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m1ckeyb3rry · 3 months

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Pomegranate Ink: XXXII

Series Synopsis: Unable to heal but willing to fight, with a fiancé in Kyoto and a last name that looms over everything you do, you accept an offer to study at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. What you did not know was that your salvation and your ruination alike would soon join you at the school, neatly wrapped in the form of a boy followed by death.

Chapter Synopsis: The final confrontation against Sukuna.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.2k

Content Warnings: angst, misogyny, naoya zenin, forbidden relationships, canon-typical violence, character death, original characters included

A/N: man idek at this point…call it sibling bonding or wtvr

“You’re sure you have to do this?” you said, holding onto the end of Gojo’s shirt and walking alongside him, following him to the door. He had already said farewell to the others; you were the only one left, the only one who refused to let go. It was typically like that, though — you were closer to him than the others were by virtue of knowing him throughout your childhood, even before coming to the school.

“The only other option is to allow Sukuna to keep Megumi,” Gojo said. “And to terrorize society at his leisure. We both know that that’s not something we can live with. I do have to do this, whether or not you want me to.”

“Speaking of which, do you think Megumi can still be saved?” you said. “Or is it too late? Must we let go of him already?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I will…I will try my best to bring him back, but in the process of defeating Sukuna, I might have to harm him a bit, so I can’t guarantee it. It’s an impossible position we’re in, since Sukuna and Megumi are one and the same, but we want to save one as much as we want to kill the other.”

“That’s what I’m here for, though,” you said grimly. “You can beat him up as much as you need to. I’ll heal him up and he’ll be back to his normal self with no issues. By this time next week, he’ll be sighing all passive-aggressively all over the place, and it’ll be like he never left.”

“It makes me feel better to know that’s the case,” he said. “Relying on you leaves less of a bitter taste in my mouth than relying on others. And while we’re on the subject, you have what I gave you yesterday, right?”

“Yes, of course, but like you said, I don’t think they’ll come in much handy for me anymore,” you said. He shrugged.

“You never know. Maybe you’ll decide you want them, for some reason,” he said. “Just keep them safe. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how precious they are.”

“I already promised I would! Besides, even if they weren’t like that, I would’ve taken care of them all the same. Anything from you is precious to me,” you said. He mimed gagging.

“That was horribly cheesy, by the way,” he said, ruffling your hair as he often did when his hands were free and his mind was busy but he wanted to show his affection for you in some way. “But I appreciate the sentiment, I guess.”

“I know you feel the same, you dumb egret, so there’s no need for the tough act,” you said.

“Egret? Calling me that is a little far out of the realm of plausibility,” he said. “I don’t look anything like one.”

“Hm, I don’t know. I think it’s perfectly apt as a description,” you said. He considered this before shrugging.

“We can discuss the semantics later. For now, come here,” he said, opening his arms. You embraced him in the way you always did, and it felt the way it always did, too, warm and comfortable and solid despite how cold his extremities were and how lean his body was.

“You never used to hug me so much,” you said, trying to pretend like nothing was wrong or happening, that this was just an ordinary farewell, as if you were only going back home for the weekend or something. “This is a recent development. What gives?”

“Blame it on old age,” he said.

“You aren’t even thirty yet,” you said. “That’s hardly considered ‘old age’ in any sense of the concept.”

“It’s older than you are,” he shot back. “But fine. For luck, then?”

“For luck,” you agreed. “I’ll see you later, Gojo.”

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he said, and then you were alone in the doorway, gazing at the empty space where he had once been and wishing for only the briefest moment that he was not so selfless, that he had instead chosen to abandon the world and everyone to stay with you and be your teacher forever.

Everyone was waiting for you back in the room where Mei Mei had connected her crow vision technique to a bunch of TVs, letting you all watch the confrontation between Gojo and Sukuna in real-time and adjust your responses accordingly. After all, there were so many variables at play that without that, it would be impossible for anyone to know what to do next. It was the whole reason that Gojo had called her in the first place — well, that, and because of her little brother Ui Ui, who was on the whole even more useful than she was.

You made a beeline for the couch where Yuta and Maki were, settling in between them, surprising just about no one. Wrapping your arms around Yuta’s bicep, you lay your cheek against it, knocking your knees against his as you sat, for he would serve as your support now more than ever.

“He’s gone,” you said when it became obvious everyone was waiting for you to speak. “Left for Shinjuku. They should get started soon.”

“I wish he would’ve let us come help him,” Hakari said. “Don’t interrupt me, Y/N! I know that he works better alone, so we would actually drag him down, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad about it.”

“Actually, I was just going to say that it’s a pleasant surprise to see you concerned about someone other than yourself,” you said. “I’m really proud, Hakari. It seems like you’ve grown a lot in the past month.”

“Oh, shut up,” he said. You rolled your eyes but found you were too stressed to actually engage in any meaningful arguments with him. Anyways, it was as you always said: arguing with Hakari only made a person dumber, and now was not the time for that sort of thing.

“There he is,” Maki said, pointing at the screens where Gojo could now be seen, as cocky as ever, made more arrogant by the way he was towering over Sukuna, who was after all in the body of a first year student.

“Wow,” Hakari said. “Fushiguro is such a little shrimp! That boy needs a growth spurt immediately.”

Wordlessly, Yuta handed you a pillow, already knowing what you wanted to do. Accepting it gratefully, you chucked it at Hakari, smiling slightly when it smacked into his stomach, prompting a groan from him but then a blissful silence afterwards. Kirara did briefly glare at you, the closest thing to retaliation you got, but since you didn’t care much about that, it was a positive outcome overall.

“He’s not that short,” Itadori defended, though considering he was shorter than Megumi, there was definitely some bias coloring his words. “Besides, anyone would look tiny next to Gojo, except for maybe Todo.”

“That’s true,” Hakari allowed. “Yeah, I’ll apologize to Fushiguro next time we meet. Plus, all of us are like that in our first years. The rest of his family members that I’ve seen are pretty tall, so I’m sure he’ll be like that once he grows up.”

After that, you all mostly were silent, only occasionally remarking on events as they happened. Sukuna and Gojo moved at a pace almost too fast to comprehend, and it seemed their minds worked at that kind of speed, as well. The things they were doing were unfathomable to sorcerers like the rest of you, every new move drawing gasps from everyone watching, mostly due to the sheer gall they required and the way they were completely redefining sorcery as you knew it. There was no doubt in any of your minds: this was truly a clash of the two strongest sorcerers in all of history, and despite Gojo’s confidence, there was no certain victor. It could happen in any way. The scales could tip in either’s favor at any moment, and it was likely that you wouldn’t even realize until the balance was so unequal that nothing could be done to restore it.

“So that’s Mahoraga,” Kusakabe said at one point. It had definitely come as a surprise that the generally self-interested teacher had decided to stay and fight alongside the others instead of running like Noritoshi and Elakshi had, but for some reason, even though he wasn’t particularly strong, his presence comforted you. Like Ieri and Gojo, he had once been an authority figure in your life, someone who could be counted upon to know the answers to your questions, so now that the scenario was so confusing, having him there made it feel like there was a chance that order could at some point be restored. Furthermore, due to his expertise and experience as a teacher, he was able to explain what was happening to everyone in a way that you could understand, which was invaluable.

According to Kusakabe, Mahoraga was the pinnacle of the Ten Shadows technique that was engraved on Megumi’s body. It was a massive, hulking being that was an amalgamation between man and snake, with its body vaguely humanoid but its head distinctly serpentine. It was inescapably eerie and uncanny, and you shuddered, pressing even closer to Yuta at the sight of it. He did not react, eyes trained on the screens, tracking every slight movement that Gojo and Sukuna made even before they made them.

“He can do it, can’t he?” Itadori said, voice small. “He can defeat Sukuna before Mahoraga adapts, right?”

Nobody responded, because of course none of you knew what the outcome would be. In such a close match, even a breath taken at the wrong time could be fatal for either party, so there was no way of knowing who would come out on top. Especially now that Mahoraga had been added into the mix, with his potential to cut through even the Limitless via adaptation…who could be sure? Who could still say with full confidence that Gojo would win, besides Gojo himself? Because you knew he would, could hear his haughty voice in your mind even now: I will win.

“Has he forgotten about Fushiguro?” Hana said. She was right: you had never seen Megumi’s body in a worse condition, but Gojo seemed to pay it no mind, adding to the cuts and bruises blooming on the boy’s fair skin at will, even taunting him as he went along, though naturally it was not Megumi he was insulting but Sukuna himself, Sukuna and his reliance on Megumi’s technique and the shikigami he could summon. What kind of King of Curses can’t even go against his enemy without the help of a little boy? Come on, give me a break!

“It’s fine,” Kashimo said. “I hope he has — it’s more interesting that way. He should’ve forgotten him from the start!”

“No way!” Itadori said. “You don’t even know him, so you can just be quiet, okay? Seriously! Who even invited you here?”

“Of course, he’s doing his best to save Megumi, but he can’t afford to hold back, not when Sukuna won’t do the same,” you said as Kashimo shrugged, obviously unbothered by Itadori’s words. “We’ll lose both of them if he does that. At this point, he has to rely on instinct, so he can’t give any consideration to Megumi anymore, not until it’s safe enough. Faltering is as good as surrendering, so he just can’t.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that,” Itadori said. “It makes sense, but it feels unfair. Fushiguro didn’t do anything! He doesn’t deserve this. It should be my body out there. It would be alright if I was the one that Gojo had to kill, but why him?”

“Have a little more trust in Gojo,” Yuta said evenly. “He always has a plan. It’ll be alright. Megumi’s important to him, so he wouldn’t leave things up to fate or chance. If he didn’t think that he could save him, then he would’ve said something; conversely, since he’s said he’ll do his best, he honestly will. You know he’s like that.”

As the only remaining special grade sorcerer — alongside Gojo, of course — Yuta’s words carried a certain weight to them, and indeed as soon as he spoke, there was a collective release of the tension gathered in the room. He was as right as always; Gojo wouldn’t just charge into things blindly. He was much too calculated to just disregard something so important in the heat of the moment like that, and especially not when Megumi’s life was up in the air. Megumi, who was probably the only other person he cared for as much as he did you. You were worrying because you could only see the results of the clash, not the thought process behind every move, but when had any of you ever truly been able to follow Gojo’s thought process in the first place?

At one point, when it looked like Gojo might lose, Yuta stood up. Takaba, a comedian-turned-sorcerer that had come with Itadori and allied himself with everyone else for some reason, did the same, and both of them headed towards the door. Nobody else took notice, completely fascinated by the unlikely comeback Gojo was in the process of making, but because you had been all but laying atop Yuta, you were immediately alerted to his departure.

“Where are you going?” you said, following after him, a suspicion growing in you that he was leaving to join the fight against Sukuna. Takaba glanced between the two of you before gulping and then waving, mouthing something at Yuta and then ducking out. You cocked your head at him before deciding that he was a comedian and therefore must be prone to doing such strange things.

“It’s something that I discussed with Gojo,” Yuta said. “Just last night. While everyone is focused on him and Sukuna, I’m going to take on Kenjaku. It’s the perfect moment to strike; no one will see it coming, especially not Kenjaku himself. Everyone thinks I’m the next in line if Gojo should fall, but in truth, I’ll be there, ready to kill that blight.”

“By yourself?” you said, numbness washing over you as your mind worked through what he was saying. He was going to go fight Kenjaku. It was even worse than going to help Gojo against Sukuna, because at least then, he’d have aid. But this — this was an endeavor he was undertaking all alone. He was going somewhere where no one could help him. Not Gojo. Not Maki. Not you. Nobody would be there for him.

“Takaba is going to be with me, so I won’t be alone,” he said, though this didn’t reassure you much. Takaba, a comparatively untrained sorcerer, would likely just serve as a distraction to cloak Yuta’s arrival, so the onus was still on Yuta’s shoulders. He was the one who would have to actually do it, which meant that he essentially was going against Kenjaku on his own.

“You can’t,” you said. “Yuta, you can’t. He beat Yuki Tsukumo, who was a special grade sorcerer! Listen to me this time and leave it. Don’t go. Let someone else take care of it.”

“Who but me could go?” he said. “It’s just as you said. He beat Yuki Tsukumo, which means no one else even stands a chance. I’m the only one left who can capitalize on this moment, the only remaining special grade sorcerer — bar the obviously preoccupied Gojo — and I cannot let this opportunity go. Kenjaku is as big of a thorn in our sides as Sukuna is, and we mustn’t let him live. He’s the reason all of this has happened, Y/N. Do you think I could just sit here and wait while he continues to exist?”

“Hakari can go,” you said desperately. “Or Itadori, or Choso. Anyone else can, but just not you. I don’t want it to be you. I can’t handle it if it’s you.”

“It’ll be okay,” he said. “Takaba and I have a plan, just like Gojo does. Even when things seem like they’re going badly, please remember this: we know what we’re doing. It may look like we’re struggling, but don’t just believe what you see. We have it all figured out.”

He was putting on a brave face for you. He didn’t have things ‘figured out’ any more than Gojo did; both of them were going into things blindly, facing off against opponents shrouded in mystery and unpredictability — they were mere men, battling preternatural, ancient monsters that had never tasted defeat. But for you, Yuta was pretending to have courage. You wondered where that frightened, deer-eyed boy you had met hiding under a desk in that high school had gone? The one who had ducked behind you at every loud noise? When had it become that he was the valiant one and you were the coward?

You couldn’t send him to his own death like this, but you also knew you could not stop him. He would go. You would stay. That was what your fates would be. His place was the battlefield, as yours was the hospital ward. That was why you could not beg him any longer — for you to ask him not to fight was like him asking you not to heal. It was what he was born to do, which meant that even if his subjugation was all but assured, he would still raise his sword, would still hold it with the very pride that a victor would, so that he might die in the same way he lived: as a jujutsu sorcerer.

“What will I do?” you said. “When you are gone, what will I do?”

“Wait for me,” he said. “Until I come back, you will wait for me. That’s what you’ll do.”

Unlike him, you couldn’t be considered strong, not anymore. You couldn’t maintain your composure, so it was with a choked cry that you flew at him, holding onto him as securely as you could, trying to memorize what he felt like, what it meant to embrace him, the way his body fit against yours, the way his heart beat against your chest, the exact smell of the soap he used to shower and wash his clothes.

“How am I supposed to do that?” you said. “How am I supposed to wait for you all alone?”

“You can do it,” he said. “You’re the girl I — you’re my Y/N. You can do it.”

“Please say it, Yuta,” you said. “Before you go, please tell me that you love me.”

Those words which he had never spoken, could never speak into existence. If he was going to challenge Kenjaku, then you wanted to hear them. If he might never come back again, then you wanted him to say them aloud. If there was no more hope for you two, then what did it matter if he cursed you with his love? You would accept such a curse gladly, if that was the only bargain.

“Y/N,” he said, and you knew before he said it what his answer would be.

“Just one time,” you pleaded. “You never have to again, but just once, please tell me.”

He was silent, only clinging to you tighter, too reluctant to let go immediately. But even when he tried to pull away, you refused to let him, knowing that once he left, he likely would not come back. Your dearest Yuta, your most beloved Yuta, your kind, gentle boy…how could he stand against a sorcerer like Kenjaku and win? Why was this pointless death the most he’d ever amount to? What kind of a person was he, that it didn’t even mean anything to him, that he marched forwards in spite of it?

Well, maybe it was because of this: he had, since his youth, been followed by that very death. Rika, the Queen of Curses, her darkness had been wrapped around him since the day she had become a vengeful spirit, and so death was the one thing which had never frightened him, not when the two were so intimately acquainted that it was as if they were old friends.

Maki did not question the fact that you were alone, that Yuta had vanished, that you were obviously weeping as you sat next to her. The others gave you looks containing various degrees of sympathy, but they, too, did not say anything. You were not their main concern at the moment, and neither was Yuta. It was Gojo who you were all thinking about, all focused on, because for the first time in the fight, he had the upper hand. For the first time, one thing was obvious: he was going to win. The scales had been disbalanced in his favor. He had exorcised Mahoraga and whatever other shikigami Sukuna had summoned, so it was down to the two of them, and while Gojo was hale, Sukuna was obviously tired. It wasn’t up in the air anymore — he was really going to do it.

Her reflexes were faster. She detected patterns quicker. She was just more skeptical than the rest of you. You weren’t sure which was truly the explanation, but it remained that Maki saw it happen before anyone else did. Sukuna smirked, if a mere twitch of his lips could be considered as such, and then Maki’s hand was slapping over your eyes and the world was dark and then someone was shouting. Itadori. It was Itadori, but why was he shouting? Hadn’t Gojo won? What reason did he have, then, to shout like that?

“Don’t open your eyes,” Maki instructed you. “Y/N, whatever you do, don’t open them.”

She knew better than you. You should’ve listened, but you did not. As soon as she removed her hand, you blinked your eyes open, trying to regain your bearings, and then you looked at the screen. After that, it was you screaming, not Itadori, trying to shut your eyes and pretend like you hadn’t seen it, pretend like it had just been a bad dream or intrusive thought or something. But even in your worst nightmares, your mind had never conjured up an image like that, which meant that you must’ve seen it, that it must’ve been real. It was real. It was real. It was real.

The scene was burnt into your mind: Gojo, his body cleaved into two, his upper half bloody on the ground but his legs still upright, so fast had it all been. As you had watched, they had collapsed beside his severed torso, and the sight was so gory that you would’ve retched if you had eaten anything earlier. He was dead. He was dead. He was dead.

But you were the girl who had brought someone back to life. This was not like Tullia, who had been beyond the point of saving once Sukuna got to her. You had to snap out of it; there was still a chance, after all. If you could get a hold of yourself, then there was still a chance. Reaching out, you grabbed Maki’s hand, squeezing it, clutching the only thing you surely had left in this world. She squeezed back.

“Someone, bring me his body,” you said, your voice shaky but determined. “As soon as possible. I can bring him back.”

“Hold on,” Hakari said, surprisingly softly given his usually brash attitude. “He’s cut in half, Y/N. You can’t possibly believe you can heal that.”

“It’s fine,” you said. “I can do it. This is why I gave up fighting: so that I can heal. I’ve done it before, so I will do it again. I will bring Gojo back to life.”

Thanks to Mei Mei’s little brother’s teleportation technique, Kirara was able to quickly retrieve Gojo’s body, setting the two halves on a gurney in front of you and then stepping back so that you could get to work, arranging the pieces so that they fit together once more. Sukuna’s technique was so perfect and precise that it appeared as if they had never been split in the first place, no overlaps or gaps between the jagged edges of his flesh.

He looked like he was sleeping. If your hands weren’t sticky with his blood, if you didn’t know that he would never be this still even when asleep, then you would’ve really believed that he was just resting. But your fingers were red and Gojo was incapable of serenity, so taking a deep breath, you reached far within yourself, drawing upon every single hurt you had ever felt, every injury inflicted upon you, every harsh word and lost friend. You reached for all of it and prayed it would be enough.

“Composition,” you said, waiting for the debilitating pain to hit you, the pain of death unto life, the pain you would gladly accept if it meant saving Gojo. But there was nothing. “Composition.” Nothing. “Composition.”

Nothing. There was nothing.

“Composition.”

Nothing.

Why was his heart not beating? Why was it not working? Why could you not save him? Why couldn’t you bring him back? You were capable of it. Why weren’t his skin and bones knitting together? Why did his organs not heave back into function?

“Gojo,” you said. “Gojo. Wake up now. It’s not funny anymore. Composition.”

You weren’t healing anything, but blood was pouring from your nose, your body protesting the constant activation and subsequent cancellation of your Reverse Cursed Technique. The droplets mixed with your tears, but you ignored both, because to acknowledge them meant acknowledging something else.

“Hey,” Maki said, tugging on your hand. “Come on.”

“No,” you said. “No. No. Composition.”

You were sobbing as you continued to initiate the Reverse Cursed Technique, uncaring of the fact that everyone was watching you, uncaring of the fact that your failure was on display for them all to see, uncaring of the fact that you were acting like a small child. Composition. Composition. Composition. That was the only thing on your mind.

“It’s time to give up,” Maki said. “Y/N. You can stop now. He’s really gone. Even you can’t bring him back.”

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe. All you could do was wail, grasping onto his shirt, his shoulders, whatever you could reach as Maki tried to pull you away, gagging as you bawled, the acrid smell of blood and sweat coating your nostrils and tongue as you threw yourself over his corpse. Your nature was like that, you realized. It was the same reason you had followed him to the door: you were not a girl who knew what it meant to let go.

“Why?” you gasped out as Maki physically lifted you and dragged you off of him, his sleeves tearing off as she yanked you away without care for how obstinately you were holding onto the scraps of him you could reach. “Why? I love him, too, so why can’t I bring him back? Let me go, Maki! I can still save him!”

“Y/N.” It was Ieri who was speaking now, her soft voice as sorrowful as it was severe. “You can’t. Some people are beyond saving.”

You had chosen to heal so that you could save people, but in the end, you had saved no one. Yuta was off fighting against Kenjaku, and who knew if he would survive that? Gojo was dead. Megumi was gone. You had never done anything that mattered. In the end, Composition, just like the L/Ns, had failed you. Some people are beyond saving. But that wasn’t supposed to matter to you. You were supposed to be able to save them, anyways.

“Ui Ui,” you said, the instant Maki put you down and you were standing on your own two feet, though she conspicuously did not remove her hands from your shoulders. Your grief had condensed into a hollow pit in your stomach, one that you shoved aside for the moment, knowing you could not think about it now. Feeling around in your pocket for Gojo’s final gift to you, you straightened your shoulders and felt a sort of calm wash over you when you found it, fingers curling around the cool wood. “I need you to take me to Sukuna.”

“What do you think?” Gojo said, presenting you with a small box containing a set of red needles. You hesitantly accepted them, wondering what use he thought you would have for them. “I harassed the L/Ns into imbuing them with Dissection as they were forged — that’s why they’re red like that — and then, I personally cursed them. Not just in that half-assed way I used to curse your old ones, either. Nope, these needles have more energy than even most Grade 1 sorcerers do! If the higher ups were still around, they would probably dub them special grade cursed tools, though they’re largely impractical to utilize for anyone but you.”

“I won’t ever use them,” you said. “So you shouldn’t have gone to all of that trouble. But thank you for doing that, and for entrusting them to me, anyways.”

“Who knows?” he said. “It just makes me feel better to know you have them. That way, you’ll never be defenseless. There’ll be this small piece of me that’ll always be with you, protecting you even when my entire self can’t be there to do it.”

“You didn’t train with everyone else,” Kusakabe said. “It’s too dangerous. You absolutely cannot go. Anyways, didn’t you give up combat?”

“I thought that healing was how I could save people,” you said. “But it turns out that I can’t save anyone, regardless of what I choose. So I will do what I set out to in the start. I will fight.”

“I’ll go with her,” Maki said, nodding at you firmly. You had thought for a second that she might try to convince you to stay back, but you really shouldn’t have. She wasn’t like Yuta and Gojo, who always tried to protect you. She was the one who had first taught you to fight, after all, the one who taught you what the definition of strength itself was. She would never try to stop you, not for as long as you allowed her to stay by your side — and you would never, ever deny her that, because you could not deny yourself her presence, because there was a time when she had been the only one you could call distinctly and wholly your own.

Shinjuku was nothing more than a mess of rubble and rocks strewn about at this point. Sukuna had shifted into his true form, and if you had had the time, then thinking about what that meant for Megumi would have driven you to tears anew. Yet it was like this: you could no longer think about Megumi. Not now, when he was beyond saving. Not now, when Gojo was dead. Not now, when you and Maki were about to make your own stand against the creature which had stolen so much from everyone you both loved.

“What now?” Maki said. “Do you have a plan?”

“Sort of. You have to stay back,” you said. “I’m pretty sure he still won’t do anything to me, but he doesn’t have the same misgivings about killing you, so only come if it seems like I really am about to die.”

“What if I’m not fast enough?” she said.

“You will be,” you said. “There’s not a soul alive that’s faster than you, but anyways, it won’t come to that, so don’t engage him in battle until I’ve made my move and sufficiently weakened him. Once I’ve done that, you can come help me.”

Sukuna noticed you almost immediately, and then he was batting away Itadori and the others, his entire inhuman body’s hatred concentrated solely on you, as it always was, as it always would be. You thought in the back of your mind that you should’ve felt afraid at that moment, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be anything but resigned. This was an inevitable eventuality. Perhaps you had delayed it by choosing to heal, but in the end, there was no surprise that it was you two. The King of Curses. The girl named after the woman who sealed him. In truth, the ending of this story had been written a long time ago.

“Y/N L/N,” he said, his tone the same as always, seething and loveless and loathing. Maybe this was how your name should always be said. Y/N L/N, the horrible girl who fought when she should’ve healed and healed when she should’ve fought, the one who could not help a single person she cared about. Maybe Sukuna had it right after all.

“Sukuna,” you said. “You killed Gojo.”

He laughed. “Yes, I did.”

“And Tullia,” you added.

“Correct,” he said.

“And — and Megumi,” you said, half-hoping he would refute this. But he dashed your hopes as soon as they blossomed, humming in agreement.

“Indeed, that is the case,” he said. “All of those people are gone. You loved each and every one of them, and now they are all dead at my hand. I killed them, and it brought me the greatest pleasure and most immense joy to do so.”

“Why?” you said. “Why am I still alive when they’re not? Why do you torture me like this? What have I ever done to you?”

“Nothing,” he said. “You have never done anything. But I need you for my own purposes, and I despise you for that reason. I despise you because you, insignificant and irritating as you are, are so important to me.”

“How?” you said. “I don’t understand it. What can I even do for you? I’m not Megumi. I don’t have a technique that will allow you to defeat some great foe, and you don’t need a body from me anymore, not now that you have regained your true form. So why do you want me?”

“You don’t have to understand,” he said. “My reasons are mine alone. I don’t owe an explanation to a bitch of a girl who’s closer to being vermin than anything.

He would never tell you, you realized. You would never get to know what he desired from you, because in his eyes, you would never be his equal. Not like Gojo was. You weren’t powerful like the others, either, so you couldn’t demand he speak; thus, you had to make peace with the uncertainty and continue onwards. Because even though there wasn’t much you could do at this point, not anymore, you no longer despaired. You just used the only thing you had left, something which had been there for you from the start and was now there for you in the end.

It was the same as the first time, all of the way back on that balcony during the party which Gojo had rescued you from. Then, just as now, an inappropriate giddiness had filled you as you finally did what your blood had always sang for. For the last time, you made that figurative leap, knowing that you would invariably crash but cherishing the instant of free-fall that came before the impact, the one which you always had longed for so greatly in your youth.

“Dissection,” you said, the word falling from your lips so easily, so familiarly, hanging in the air for a moment as you activated your cursed technique for the first time since Shibuya.

Sukuna cackled at you. “Foolish girl! Do you really think that that’s enough to face me, when even the infamous Limitless technique of the Gojo clan was not? Use your ridiculous, pointless technique all you want, for it’ll do you no good. After all, how does it matter that you can see my weaknesses when I have none?”

He wasn’t incorrect, in one sense. There were no spots illuminated by Dissection on his body. He truly seemed to be invulnerable, but you knew better. You saw what he could not, because Dissection was your technique. You didn’t have to be the strongest to win this fight. You just had to be strong enough to do what you had to.

“You’re wrong,” you said.

“You presume to say that?” he said. “You are the one who’s wrong, Y/N L/N. There’s not a point on my body that you could strike to kill me.”

“You’re right,” you said, raising one of Gojo’s needles, admiring the peculiar crimson shade of the metal as the setting sun hit them. Sukuna’s eyes widened as he figured out that you had caught on, that you had finally perceived why he would not, could not kill you, and then he was crying out in alarm, extending his four arms towards you, but it was all in vain. He would not reach you in time. No one ever could. “There’s not. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have any faults. Actually, you do have one, and this time, unlike every other, that’s enough.”

“Stop!” he shouted, activating his technique, though he was much too late to do anything but watch you with the horror of a person who was finally, after a thousand years, staring defeat in the face.

“You have taken everything from me,” you said. “So in exchange, I’ll do the same. I will no longer live for you, Sukuna.”

And with that, you drove the needle into the soft white glow centered over his singular weakness: your own heart.

#yuuta x reader #yuuta x y/n #yuuta x you #reader insert #canon au #pomegranate ink #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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httpiastri · 1 month

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hehe so ever since you talked about college au!pepe i’ve been… doing a lot little thinking (maybe like everyday since) so im gonna give you something to read bc YOU MADE ME THINK ABOUT IT 🫵 now you have to deal with me. hopefully this gives you some inspoooo and a lil smth to think about bc i had way too much fun just thinking ab it LOLL

FIRST OFF ure so right with sebas, chris and pepe being college besties!!! like i think instead of living in dorms, they’d definitely share an apartment together jdbdjfjdjf i tried thinking about who gets to choose the furniture and decos in said apartment but i feel like they’d be giggling at everything they see at ikea, and they’d bicker about whose choices are better so apartment decor shopping takes wayyyy longer than necessary with these 3 and in the end they probs made a google form of their choices (like couches, lamps, dining table…), make their families vote and just buy whatever the families’ top picks are 😭

and somehow, pepe SCREAMS insane pining to me. hear me out… this man is career focused. not interested in anything besides his studies, he lowkey struck me as someone who would want to be a little bit more stable on his feet before he thinks about a relationship? especially with his newfound freedom of moving away from home to live with his best friends too. sure, the thought of having a girlfriend in college doesn’t puts him off or anything but it’s not something he actively seeks either ??? it’s nice and all but he thinks spending his time studying, hanging out with sebas and chris and his other friends, and going back home to visit his family during breaks is just as nice, if not, even nicer. sebas, even more so than chris, thinks pepe should loosen up a bit and would actively TRY to set up pepe on dates after dates with the single girls in his major for like the first semester and eventually gives up because pepe would either 1. cancel on them last minute bc he “forgot he has a presentation tmrw” (he does not!) or 2. could not care less!!! the girlies in sebas major–who fell victim to his date arrangements with pepe–would glare at sebas the day after (bc of wtvr pepe did) and every time he’s like 🥲 guys? 🥲 what did i do? 🥲

that leads me back to the main point: pepe is acquaintance to friends to ??? to lovers coded. LIKEE i can only imagine him getting together and potentially entertain the idea of a relationship with someone he KNOWS. reader (or yn?!) would be friends with sebas or chris because they have classes together, or maybe yn are friends w their girlfriends bc girl power 🥺🤘🏻 and then yn became friends w sebas and chris too so now she has no choice but be dragged everywhere to their hangouts and everything bc they love her!!! (or maybe bonus reader and pepe has like 1 or 2 class together but he never noticed until now) and pepe is a little bit confused every time bc like ? why do you keep bringing this random girl to our hangouts ?? eventually he came around and just accepts that reader will be everywhere he is now bc his friends would not leave you out of a hangout plan. idk how yet but when reader and pepe’s relationship shifted friends-ish to ??? zone he’s a bit like… okay that’s weird. he doesn’t know what it is but he doesn’t like how he feels when he’s around reader anymore like how he did go from tolerating your presence to thinking about every small interactions you guys have ??? like he’s literally losing sleep over it. why does he wish for his fingers to brush yours for longer than necessary when you passed him that bag of chips ?? why is he upset because you asked mark that sits 3rd row from the front for lecture notes, like he’s literally right there, top student of the class ?? why did he offer you his hoodie when you guys’ friends are playing volleyball on a basketball court (don’t ask why and how) one tuesday night in the park nearby just because you shivered a bit ?? i can think of more but i think this is way too long already so i’ll stop here for now JDHDJFJF

up for debate but sebas looks like a kinesiology major, and pepe and chris had def make jokes about it more than necessary 😭😭 imagine sebas is like “guys, i can’t hang out my assignment is due today” and pepe is like “what? you have a curling biceps due at 11:59?” and they’d die of laughter bc. teenage boys. everything is funnier than it really is :D

- 🎀

darling. oh my GOD. this is so!!!! 😭 "now you have to deal with me" oh there's nothing id rather do 🤭

okay first off YES them sharing an apartment is so on point. istg their families would end up getting so tired of their bad taste etc that one day sebas's and pepe's sisters (ive looked all over to find info abt chris's family situation but can't find anything anywhere 😶 so if he too has sisters then they too would be there) just appear at their door for an "intervention!!!" to make sure it all looks at least a little decent...

and yn being friends with chris's and sebas's girlfriends is so 🥺😭

correct me if im wrong but i have a feeling pepe would be interested in something along the lines of maths/physics/science because i think i remember reading somewhere that he liked that when he went to school? he seems like a smart boy to me. like i feel like he would be naturally good at everything he does in school and he could've chosen anything for his major, but he wanted a bit of a challenge so he picked something most ppl would find hard. and yes like you said, career-focused and not rlly interested in much other than his studies (like he strikes me as someone who would actually enjoy studying? esp when he has to work a bit to solve something) so he definitely enjoys that part of the college life.

also he would be a bit of a popular boy (though not the type to be overly boasty about it, more like "what? me? why??"). handsome, friendly, sweet, smart.... and everyone knows he's single, it's kinda common knowledge. so when sebas goes to people and tries to set them up with pepe saying like "oh he would adore you, you're SO his type!!" they get all happy and excited because "pepe!?! im his type??!!". but then they get stood up and eventually that becomes a whole thing lol, everyone knows that he's just a little emotionally unavailable...

and maybe pepe even went through a relationship that ended a bit badly so that contributes to his "i don’t need that drama in my life, i'd rather just study and chill with my friends" 🤷‍♀️

but about his feelings for the reader.... pepe really really didn't see it coming. he's so clueless about what happened and why his feelings changed all of a sudden. why can't he focus on his studies like he used to? why does the thought of her smile cross his mind even when he's solving equations? why is he up until 4am just thinking about her the night before a super important exam?

and suddenly, it's much more likely that he agrees to hangout with the boys (instead of saying that he really has to study like he does way too often) because maybe their girlfriends will come along and maybe they'll have brought you along aswell.

and he starts doing these little things that he can't even figure out himself why he's doing them. like when he knows you're running late for a lecture you share that's always pretty much full, he puts his bag on the seat next to him to make it seem like it's occupied, so that when you make it to class, that seat just happens to be the only free seat in the entire lecture hall... or how he just happens to have a few of those granola bars you love from the campus coffee shop (he totally doesn't keep them in his bag because he knows you don't like having breakfast before your 8:30am thursday lectures and you're usually starving by the time your shared lab class starts).....

i mean ofc it doesn't take long for you to crush on him as well. in a moment of unusual stupidity (there may have been some alcohol involved), you accidentally confess this crush to the girlfriends.... and of course they tell their boyfriends, and it doesn't take long before all of them begin plotting about how to get you together. sebas wants to tell pepe instantly, but chris stops him like "no no no, we have to think this through. this can't be like one of your usual setups, this needs to be properly planned". so they start canceling plans in the last seconds but not telling you or pepe so the two of you end up alone, etc. etc. and you think they're all so obvious that you just wanna crawl under a rock and cry – but pepe is so so oblivious and has no idea. he really thinks it's all coincidences 😭

––

okay this is getting too long already but i just wanna share one other thought i had 🥲 this is ofc further down the story but one night you're all out partying at some classmate's apartment, and you drink a little much... and pepe agrees to take you home, but you're way too drunk to even remember what dorm you live in. so instead, he takes you back to the boys' apartment since it's also, conveniently enough, closer to the party. when he walks you down the hall, he's got an arm draped around your waist and you're clinging onto his shirt to even stand up straight... and when you finally get in, pepe gets some makeup wipes from sebas's room and cleans you up 🥺 and then he finds you an oversized shirt and some pajama shorts for you to sleep in. and after he's tucked you into his bed and he's about to leave, your hand reaches for the hem of his shirt.

"please don't sleep on the couch... it's not good for your back, you'll be complaining about back pains all week" (bonus points if you've already stayed over before for some reason and he let you sleep in his bed while he slept on the couch, and now you're all "you complained so much last time")

and he says "no it's fine, really-" but you bat your eyes at him and go "please? for me?" and he eventually gives in, changes into another shirt and a pair of sweatpants and gets in next to you. from there on, it's just a blur for you both... neither of you can recall how you ended up on his chest... or how his hand made its way to the small of your back, holding you against him.....

but it's especially funny because when sebas and chris come home, not only do they think it's strange that pepe's shoes are by the door ("did he come back already? her dorm is a bit away, he can't be back already can he?") – the sight of your heels a few feet away makes them freak. especially when they don't see pepe sleeping on the couch as they'd expected when having you over. and, as the nosy boys they are, they can't help but peek into pepe's room and sure enough, there you two are... cuddled up like you're something more than just a friend of a friend.....

and when you wake up the following morning, you're a little freaked because !! what are we doing !!!! but then you feel pepe start to wake underneath you and you pretend to sleep again because you can't both be awake now; then you would know you both know about this sleeping position and you'd be forced to talk about it. it's much easier if you can both just pretend like it never happened. pepe smoothly gets out of bed, making his way into the kitchen to make some coffee, but he's startled when he finds chris and sebas already in there, watching him with intrigued eyes. pepe goes like "....good morning?" acting subtle and everything, but the boys just can't hold back from the teasing. "we thought you'd bring her back to her own place?" "was that too hard of a task, huh?" & so on....

and you end up texting chris's girlfriend and beg her to bring you some clothes from your dorm, because... the skimpy/flashy outfit you wore to the party yesterday to impress pepe is not something you want to wear out in public at 1pm on a random sunday.... but wearing pepe's clothes all the way back to your dorm doesn't feel like a much better solution either 😵‍💫

—

edit: DID I NOT COMMENT ON SEBAS BEING A KINESIOLOGY MAJOR ??? wait it’s 1am so my thoughts aren’t clear rn so i can’t write a lot (about to literally fall asleep) but omg you’re SO right. pepe and chris are not letting a single day pass without making fun of him for it 😭

#trying to work out how the two of them would like eventually actually end up together...#hmmmm #pls your ideas are so 🤯 youre so smart #i love love loved this ask !!! probs my fave ask ive ever received #i love you so much #please dont hold back if you have any other ideas 🥺🥺 you'd be doing me such a favor if you shared shfkhdj #💘💘💘#re-reading this i realize that i switched between “you” and “her” sooo much when talking about yn lmaooo #college!pepe #asks!#anon!#bow anon!#🎀!#pepe marti

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cybrpwup · 1 year

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ᴏʙʟɪᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ || ɢʀᴜɴᴋ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

grunk x f!reader !

Warnings: none Summary: Grunk and Y/n are the only ones oblivious of their feelings. (You are Isaac younger sister to wtvr hence why you’re living at the house) requested?; yes !

Y/n crawled from where she had been sitting to perch on Carl's lap. He rested one hand on her hip and the other cupped her cheek as they both leaned forward to kiss each other. It felt oddly surreal.

Grunk was the first to pull away, pressing his lips together. He was looking at her as if studying her expression to see how she felt about it.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.”

y/n couldn’t help but giggle slightly at his words before she caught his lips in hers once again.

She could feel Grunk’s fingers beginning to curl into the flesh of her hips as he held her there, kissing her for every second he couldn’t before now.

"Breakfast!!"

It took a moment for Grunk to remember where he had fallen asleep; he was in the guest bedroom of the group chats house, the morning after last to leave vc 3 where he’d been dared to fly out and was now spending the weekend.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, taking a seat on the couch; where most meals were had. Only a couple of the other guys were up even though it was almost the afternoon.

"Good morning, Jack." Y/n greeted the boy as she placed a plate in front of him. He ruffled his hair and gave a smile back.

Tanner appeared in the stairwell, "I am starving.”

“I’m gonna bring these up to Nick and Blake since they’re obviously not going to be getting up anytime soon, your plates right there." The female huffed as she carried 2 plates up the stairs, Grunks eyes on her the whole time.

Suddenly she was standing in front of the brunette, waving a hand in his face, “Are you here with me?” She laughed as he snapped back to reality.

“Hi. Yeah, hello.”

“You’re on the remote, silly goose.” She pointed to the remote that was tucked under his leg; he inched over letting an apology slip past his lips.

She plopped down into the spot he’d just moved from, their shoulders touching. A comfortable silence broke out between the two as they ate and focused on the tv. “I’m glad you’re here, we need to hangout more,” Y/n finally spoke, her eyes never leaving the tv. Maybe because she was really into the show or she simply couldn’t say it while looking at him.

y/n would be the first to admit. Grunk wasn't as bad as she thought he would be when they first met. On the contrary, he was way better than she anticipated. He could be weird and goofy sometimes, but things were always fun with him.

There were obvious feelings for each other, the group was constantly teasing him for the way he got all excited when y/n came around.

They were currently lying on the front porch after Y/n had suggested to get away from the chaotic house. It was getting dark, a couple stars already speckled the sky as the two of them babbled on about anything they could think of.

"Do you know what that star is called?" Grunk asked, his hand pointing up at the sky.

A small huff of laughter passed her lips, "Huh? How would I know?" She questioned, looking up at the star.

"Dunno. You seem like the kind of girl who would know." He shrugged, glancing over at her for a quick moment.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

A calm silence settled between the two as they continued to stare up at the sky. She could tell Grunk wanted to say something to her; god, she could almost hear his thoughts beside him. She turned her head to look at him, perhaps initiating another conversation to pull him out of his, evidently, troubling thoughts. However, she found that he was already looking at her; she felt her face heat up at the intense look on his face.

She let out a small laugh and hit his chest lightly, "What?"

He hesitated for a moment as if he didn't know if he wanted to say what he was thinking, "I keep dreaming about you- us." He finally blurted

y/n felt her heart pick up at his words and her cheeks flush, "Really? What happens?" She asks, curious as to what mischief he could get into in his head.

He ran his fingers through his hair and licked his lips, letting out a laugh as he recalls his dream, "Usually it starts off with us uh kissing," He replied, sitting up and turning his body to face her, only for her to do the same.

"Oh?" She lifted an eyebrow, a wave of insecurity washed over her as she messed with her hair.

He couldn't help the nervous smile that broke out at her reaction, not hesitating to ask her, "Can I show you?"

Butterflies erupted in her stomach, wondering if he was joking with her, "I uh- yeah sure. yea." She cringed at the way she stuttered, but didn't have long to think about it as Grunk leant in and caught her lips on his own.

It was always exciting to kiss someone new. The first shy touches of yet to be claimed lips, leading to soft sighs and deepening feelings. The feather light touch on her lips made her feel warm and safe as he pulled her into his lap.

"I've been wanting to do that for so long." Grunk spoke once they both needed to come up for air.

y/n couldn’t help but giggle slightly at his words before she caught his lips in hers once again. She could feel Grunks fingers beginning to curl into the flesh of her hips as he held her there, kissing her for every second he couldn’t before now. "Then what happens?" she spoke, rubbing her thumb over his bottom lip, eyes flickering from his lips to his eyes.

Grunk rolled his eyes at the question, letting out a nervous laugh and rolled her onto her back, hands entwined and giggling like the pair of lovesick teenagers that they were. Neither of them wasted anytime, attaching their lips to one another picking up where they left off.

Why hadn't she done this with him sooner?

They were so lost in each others touch that they never heard the front door creak open, “alright, that’s enough.” Isaac nudged the two with his foot; his overprotective brother coming out, “your door is staying open for the rest of the weekend. Come inside.” He swiftly went back inside with a chuckle, calling to the others, “guess who’s making out on the front porch?”

Grunk flopped down beside her, chests heaving and loud breaths and giggles coming from them both.

none of them wanted to speak and ruin the moment and they sat like that for a while. Ultimately it was Grunk who spoke first, “I knew I would love kissing you, but this was…”

“Even better than the dream?”

“Yes.”

Y/n let out a hearty laugh as Grunk reached across and pulled her into his arms.

#grunk x reader #grunkkk #the group chat #the group chat x reader #the groupchat #the group chat podcast #isaacwhy x reader #grunk

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mrcurystape · 2 years

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random things steve does while crushing on you !

✧･ﾟ: feature. steve harrington x reader [gn]

✧･ﾟ: cw. fluff ; lowercase, bestfriend!steve, mutual pinning, no confession just lots of pining again... uhh lmk if i made mistakes wtvr

✧･ﾟ: note. can you guess what my favorite trope is? anyways here it is with steve!!!

back to m.list :p

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

imagine steve harrington being your best friend who has the biggest crush on you. but he tries his best to be so subtle about it and fails.

imagine when you hug steve, you can feel him relax under your touch and melt into the hug. he’ll try not to at first, but the longer you embrace him the more he melts. he becomes putty in your hands, but you won’t tell him that you know that. nor will you tell him that you can feel him squeezing you when hugging you, almost like he’s trying to search deeper for comfort within you.

or eating with steve in his car, something he’d never allow with anyone else. because you’re so special to him you get special privileges… at least you’re not messy, unlike dustin. but when you get crumbs stuck to your cheek or lips imagine steve reaching out and swiping it away with his thumb while you’re talking. and steve gets so lost in the sight of your plush lips that his thumb just kind of lingers, slowly stroking from your cheek to your bottom lip. by now the words have been caught in your throat, distracted by steve’s focused look on you.

a simple “steve…” will bring him back and steve will quickly pull away and apologize and ask you to go on. you do, but the airy fluttering feeling in your chest doesn’t leave.

pet names being used between you two as a joke a few times but now they’ve become a staple of your friendship. mostly by you. calling steve ‘love’ and watching him briefly smile and try to cover it up with a cough before answering.

laying your head in steve’s lap while he rests his hand on your shoulder, absentmindedly rubbing against your arm while watching a really bad slasher film with you. cuddling like this was the norm between you two. steve hears you yawn once and he already knows to reach over for a blanket and pull it over you. he also is ready for you to protest, saying you want to stay up a bit longer. for him mostly, your excuse is always “i want to talk to you more!”

steve’s go-to response is “i’ll be here in the morning, dove”. you’d mumble an “okay” sleepily before laying back down and falling asleep in his lap. steve turns off the movie and sits in silence. he admires you for a minute or two, taking in your pretty features before eventually joining you and falling asleep.

when you both wake up an hour or two later you’re quick to apologize for falling asleep on him. steve tells you he doesn’t mind, he’s used to it. besides that, it’s barely mentioned again. until it happens again anyway.

steve makes the effort to memorize all your favorite things too. when he sees something he knows you’d like, whether it's food, jewelry, or any kind of trinket, he’s quick to get it. he’d nonchalantly pass it over to you mid-conversation. always pairing it up with a, “saw this and thought about you.” you have a shelf dedicated to all the gifts he gives you at this point. each of them treasured and cherished in secret.

steve likes his hair, everyone knows that. but few know that he likes it when it’s played with, you’re one of the few. on occasion you like to rake your fingers through his extremely soft hair; not oblivious to the sigh he lets out and the look of contentment on his face. his speech slows down and he focuses on the feeling of your nails lightly scratching his scalp. as soon as your hand leaves him, neither of you acknowledges it.

holding hands with steve is a normal occurrence. interlocking hands with him is common, it’s usually you who initiates it and he’s quick to follow, giving your hand a quick squeeze while walking down the street.

steve would also bring your hand up close while holding it and take a glance at your nails.

“new color? who picked it?”

“robin. like it?”

“it suits you”

“you always say that….”

“most colors suit you”

“most?” you raised your brow, giving him a playful glare. steve stifles a laugh, “haven't seen you with green yet”

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

rbs always appreciated!!

#steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington headcanons #stranger things headcanons #stranger things fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington x black!reader #stranger things x black!reader

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3den-555 · 2 months

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🍓 things about simon !!

hi!! no one asked, but this is what you'll get.

he's skittish js naturally, thanks to his family and line of work, ig he js can't wrap his head around the fact that everything is okay. one time he almost knocked me in my shit bc i crept up on him.

massive hand-holder

he can't fall asleep for shit. none of that ”aww i can sleep only when you're here.” bullshit. even with me there he can't sleep. he's grown accustomed to not sleeping for prolonged periods of time, and will often be awake, just lying and looking up at the ceiling while i sleep beside him.

^^^ sometimes he'll go out and wander through the house, going to eat something, watch tv, do paperwork or whatever he does or just sit. but he won't leave or go out on a walk (he did that once and came back to me freaking out bc i thought something happened. he's learned his lesson.)

he doesn't like talking ab his feelings, really. sometimes he'll like complain ab stuff and you get the general gist of things, but he never like vents to you.

he won't brag about me, per say, but he'll make a point to be like "this is my GIRLFRIEND." when introducing me and like pat my waist.

he leaves little sticky notes with little silly things written on them like "miss you" or "have a good day" but he gets all flustered when i mention it later 💀💀

^^^ like "your note was cute." and he'll say sm like "yeah, sure." and then not look at me

he writes in all caps.

he doesn't give too many pet names, maybe cutting it off at like 'love' bc he's fucking british 🤷‍♀️

this man cannot draw for shit. at all.

he's scared to have kids, like he's afraid he'll be js as shitty as his dad was.

(he's yelled at me once and only once. he wanted to die when i flinched after he yelled, immediately shutting the fuck up and just stared at me for a while with a sorta like broken expression. he apologized later, though.

HE SNORTS WHEN HE LAUGHS SHAHSHSAHA

TW!!! (sorta sexual!!!) it took bro forever to actually sleep with me, not that i was like waiting (i was terrified), but he said he js preferred being casual n wtvr

bro cannot go grocery shopping on his own. he either won't buy the right stuff, or like forgets to buy half of it. i literally asked him for one thing, it was like vanilla yogurt and he came back with everything but that.

he has nightmares a lot. he won't tell me what they're about, but he has them. they used to be more frequent, but i think they've gotten better. or he's js rlly good at hiding them

he was TERRIFIED to meet my family. he said that he didn't want to embarrass himself bc he knew he would. (he did)

...

ummm, so that's sorta it? let me know if you want anymore of these for anyone else or more for simon!!

#reality shift #reality shifting #shifters #shifting #shifting realities #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #look at me go guys

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raamitsu · 2 years

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honestly saying... I still have neither thoughts nor expectation on hanma's role [other than him being the most claimed second time leaper] cuz that famous theory is still just a theory for now and this statement might get thrown away if the next chapter(s)' reveal will be focused on him. it's not like I am impatient wtvr but idk how long we have to endure the wait because ngl it was pretty convincing but somehow it was way too easy at the same time? idk maybe that just me - but that won't hurt so much if you insist to keep believing the theory. choices are not mine to make anyway. besides, what has been a real deal is that we only have a little bit of information about him, and instead of answers, more questions were arisen ; "does he even have a backstory? does wakui have any plan for his role? who is he? is he truly takemichi's rival and the actual mastermind behind all these mess?" etc.

as for haru, I guess we're getting closer to the truth? I mean there might be a possibility if we go by the recent chapter, but with the way this series is being handled, it seems like wakui is still trying to extend this series even longer - adding more suspension in a few chapters left. at this point, we wouldn't know right now if we've reached closer to the end of it or that we still got plenty of time to scream, cry, sad, and so on for our beloved characters. it's frighteningly unpredictable.

#tokyo revengers #tr #tokrev #tokyorev #hanma #haruchiyo #tr spoilers #just some half past 3 AM thoughts #tokyo manji kai #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers spoilers

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suirence · 2 years

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genshin hcs cuz im bored af

toxic dating headcanons of a few genshin men

Kaeya- manipulative, would manipulate you into doing things on his part or to get him what he wants. would prob use your connections/relations to guilt trip you into doing so

Childe- possessive, not the hot wtvr kind. his would skyrocket, it'll be tapdancing over the line between yandere-ish and possessive. he hates it if you don't focus on him, especially when he's right beside you. +points if you're talking to a guy

Ayato- not rlly toxic, but he would sometimes put his own feelings over the situation, you would be having a bad day and so would he, he would ignore you and focus on his own mood before yours

Zhongli- this man won't be able to move on from his past relationship, nor would he exert too much feelings into your current one with him, he's afraid of getting too attached just for you to leave him later on, to the point he'd neglect you

Albedo- he doesn't fully understand how human emotions rlly works, one second he'd be comforting you, and then he'd start getting annoyed cuz you won't stop sulking or smth. he didn't know being in a relationship would distract him this much, but he tries his best to do actions based on the situation, he only truly learned patience from taking care of klee and... you

#genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin impact #kaeya #childe #tartaglia #zhongli #albedo #kamisatoayato #ayato

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luckydrifts · 21 days

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「 ₊ ☆ﾟ roseanne park, she/her, cis woman 」 incoming text: omg hv u met julie hwang of the nariza bois yet ? they’re one of the crew’s import models n actually goes by lucky. the twenty three y/o is typically seen hanging arnd 12welve. allegedly they’re frm miami n hv been w/ the crew for one year. wtvr. just watch out for them, k ? ttyl !

i. statistics

birth name: heejin hwang.

nickname(s): julie, jules, jinny.

alias: lucky.

orientation: bisexual.

date of birth: january 16th, 1984.

age: twenty three.

hometown: miami, florida.

occupation: import model.

affiliation: nariza bois.

ii. headcanons

the second child, has one big brother ( harvey hwang ) n one lil sister. she's big on family n friends n will do literally anything for them. loyal to a fault, but once someone breaks her trust, she won't hesitate to cut them off from her life. she doesn't forget n forgive !

definitely peaked in hs. very regina george coded where she's one of the popular girls - the type that you couldn't help but admire even if you hate her guts or sum. she's not a mean girl per se, but she does have the tendency to be pretentious n manipulate people to her advantage sometimes. anything she wants, she's gonna get.

has been tagging along with harvey abt three years ago so she's been around for a bit, usually just hanging around track - one. watching the race got her intrigued like wow, these people are so cool … i wanna be just like them fr. she constantly pestered harvey to let her join the crew n finally got in a year ago ! she's currently an import model for nariza bois, but she's very much interested to become a racer one day.

goes by lucky, which is inspired by britney spears' song lucky n also because she believes she's quite the lucky charm ;~) it's the confidence that matters, right ?

has only recently bought her car ! ok idk shit abt cars but i imagine hers would be something like suki's bc obvi it's pink n it's something julie would drive in for sure. she can drive all right, but definitely needs a lot more practice to race </3 i'm sorry @ nariza bois racers bc she will bother yall to teach her at some point, deal with it !

has i'm only here for a Good Time, not a long time kinda vibes. she's usually pretty chill unless you give her a reason not to, then she will be Petty n won't hesitate to ruin someone's life if she has to. girlie can definitely hold some grudges, don't test her.

julie is literally regina in that one scene where she just stands in the middle of the chaos going around her as she watches shit goes down with everyone else - she loves the drama, just as long as she's not in it.

iii. wanted connections

i'm open to all kind of plots with julie because she's easy to get along with but also easy to butt heads with. also extra points if there's some angst or drama involved xx

a girl squad akin to the plastics maybe ? they are her bitches n she will literally ride n die for them.

that one racer she's got her eyes on when she first came to the track. safe to say they were the reason she wanted to become a racer besides harvey n this could either end up with them being friends or exes on bad terms bc we love to see the drama ! either way she couldn't hate them even if she wants to lmao.

someone who dislikes her for whatever reason but she's like ??? totally unbothered abt it but also purposely shows up around them just to get on their nerves sometimes.

a fellow import model that she sees as a rival ? even better if they race or knows how to drift JHFGHJ.

regulars at 12welve. maybe they get along, maybe they don’t, but they see each other around quite often.

somebody she bothers with every time she needs a ride. kinda like her personal driver … except they're not n it's just something that she calls them but hey, if they're not then why do they keep on giving her a ride ?

literally anything n everything i'll just take whatever <3

#fast.intro #🍒⠀ ⠀ 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐆 ⠀ ⠀ ›› ⠀ ⠀ abt.#the way i took 4ever to do this intro n its still Garbage yikes

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jamzandbamz · 2 years

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😂 omg I remember that haha idk why but that podcast with him was very good on unfiltered. Tbh it’s be very hard for me to decode what Jeff is besides white because his facial features are very pretty in almost a girly way but he’s also got a kind of rugged look to him. I remember on Chris Destafanno or wtvr the comedian Jeff had on the podcast lol he pointed out that Jeff looks very peculiar lol and he does. But I’m a good way of course

I was wondering like, "did he mean for that to slip out?" when he asked lol but he is a multicultural #menase lmao

(for any carification: his graffiti tag was menace spelled menase but he changed it bc...well...ya know lol)

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zoyalais-moved · 3 years

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Going Back the Way We’ve Come

World: modern au, lawyers au

Ship: Zoyalai

Word Count: 7785

AO3

Zoya set her briefcase on her desk, taking a moment to remove her coat and glance at the paperwork that’s been left there by her secretary, Genya, before speaking.

"The sign outside says Zoya Nazyalensky, so unless you’re my long lost twin, I suggest you leave," she said, investigating a folder that had been tossed onto her desk. Zoya picked it up, paging through it for a moment.

"Would you really let a long lost twin into your office, Nazyalensky?" Lantsov’s irritatingly smooth voice responded. Zoya lowered the folder enough to glare at him.

"No, but if you were, I would have liked to see you in my office. Gauge the competition."

Lantsov’s brows went up in easy surprise, but he made no move to leave, one leg thrown over the other, as if more comfortable here on her couch than anywhere else. And now she was left wondering why Genya let him into her office at all, when she was usually so careful about who goes in and out. Perhaps she thought Zoya might have grown tolerant of her insufferable co-worker.

Saints, was she wrong.

"So, what is it you want?" she asked, dropping the folder onto her desk and making a mental note to remind Genya not to accept cases without her explicit approval.

"Just the pleasure of being greeted with your scowl at 7 am" he cocked his head at her, a grin spreading over his face. "That’s the one!"

Zoya rolled her eyes, "you’re here to waste my time then? Lantsov, some of us have actual work to attend to."

He snorted, "the Sobol case? Please, if you needed time to solve that one you wouldn’t be at this firm."

Zoya crossed her arms, leaning back against her desk so he could feel the full force of her glare, "how do you know about that one?"

She’d only just gone through the file herself, and Lantsov can’t have arrived more than five minutes ago.

He glanced at his watch once before standing up and straightening the jacket of his suit, that ever-present grin still on his face, "because I’m the one who rejected it."

Great. Now she was getting Lantsov’s reject cases? This would not do at all.

"And you came to boast about a much better one, I take it?" she tried not to sound too resentful.

"There’s always something to boast about—in this case, the pool going about which of us will make senior partner."

This caught Zoya’s attention, and she straightened, her eyes going wide. She had suspected for some time that a senior partner would be chosen soon. She hadn't expected to have any competition, though. But it seemed he’d only come to drop a bomb and see how she responded to it, because his hazel eyes swept her with a calculated look, turned almost amused.

Zoya had wanted this position ever since she’d come to the firm—because it meant she wasn’t a replaceable part in the firm. It confirmed that she was the greatest. Nikolai Lantsov would not be the one to take that from her.

"how do you even hear about these things?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I have my ways," Lantsov said with a shrug, glancing again at his watch again before starting towards the door. She had wanted him gone since he'd appeared but now she wanted to smack him for leaving without giving her more details.

He paused at the door, turning to give her another self-assured grin, his words punctuated with a wink, "It’ll be a pleasure to beat you again, Nazyalensky."

His head disappeared seconds before the briefcase hit the office door.

Here’s how Zoya remembers it.

She had just been hired as an associate to the firm, fresh out of law school—first in her year, naturally. Juris had been her mentor, had been the one to shape her into who she was now, the greatest lawyer in the country.

That is, until the young attorney from the Lantsov firm was the opposing counsel during her very first case—and her first loss.

The one thing Juris was sure to remind Zoya of was this: never underestimate your opponent.

But once she’d discovered that her first case would be against Nikolai Lantsov, ivy league graduate, and spoiled rich boy working for his dad, Zoya hadn’t let the possibility of loss even cross her mind.

Which had been her first mistake.

Her second, the one she would spend so long regretting, was thinking that justice was ever served in the courtroom.

Her client had been innocent, which somehow hurt even more than Zoya’s pride when the evidence started stacking up against her. But Nikolai Lantsov had arrived ten minutes late and wooed both judge and jury to his favor even before he began presenting his evidence.

Which had also been the first time Zoya had witnessed his shift. It was the moment those sparkly eyes turned from arrogant to clever. He had called on his witnesses. And then on her’s. And then on her client. And then he’d grilled each of them until he twisted a new, elaborate story into their view.

And by the time it was Zoya’s turn to defend her client, their minds had been made. She had lost before she had the chance to even begin.

To make matters worse, once the gavel had banged, sentencing her client to eight years in prison, Nikolai Lantsov had strolled up to stand beside a struck Zoya, eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Am I your first?" he almost sounded excited, "You never forget your first."

He would have been right, even if she had never had the misfortune of seeing him again. But three months later, a new attorney had transferred to their firm, and the second Zoya had met those hazel eyes again, she knew she would spend every moment of her life making up for that loss.

"Why was this on my desk?"

Zoya dropped the stack of folders onto Genya’s desk, right on top of her phone, which was open on a video call to what appeared to be a mess of brown hair with glasses just visible underneath. David.

Genya sighed dramatically, fluttering her lashes at Zoya prettily, "I know you aren’t the smart one around, Zo, but use context clues."

"No, why are there eight cases I know even you could win on my desk, Genya." she replied, folding her arms and glaring at the red-head, who was now busy digging out her phone from beneath the piles of paper. Then something occurred to Zoya, "wait, is this because of the pool? Are you trying to up my wins with kiddy cases so I’ll get it?"

Genya dropped her phone, eyes going wide, "you know about that?"

"About the pool? Of course, I do, Lantsov told me."

"He… he just told you?" Genya’s penciled brows drew together in either shock or surprise, or some mix of the two.

Zoya quirked a brow, "don’t change the topic, Safin. Get me some real cases and stop letting Lantsov into my office."

Genya blinked twice before plastering on a smile, "of course, Your Highness."

Zoya didn’t miss the few choice words muttered to David as she walked away.

The only issue Zoya had with clients was that they were a nuisance.

But then so was half of humanity, and at least these paid her for her wasted time.

In this case, though, she just wished they would arrive at the set time. Zoya had been waiting at the cafe for nearly an hour, a now-empty cup of coffee in hand. She clicked her phone on to check the time. An hour and ten minutes.

Maybe I’ll just put him out of his misery and let him join his dead wife, she considered. Zoya thought she would make an excellent criminal—she, at least, would never get caught.

"Shall we order?"

Zoya’s gaze snapped up and met a pair of hazel eyes. The Saints had chosen hell for her today, she knew, as he settled in the chair across from her.

"Lantsov, disappear, I’m working," she said, picking up her phone and making a good show of being very, very busy. She could feel his calculating gaze on her but refused to acknowledge it. She texted Genya.

Z: who’s winning?

G: me, at any given point.

G: but if you mean the pool, it’s even.

Z: hm. who’s your money on?

G: technically both ;)

Z: I’m your boss, Safin

G: wtvr. give Nikolai a kiss for me ( ˘ ³˘)♥

Zoya rolled her eyes. Genya could be nearly as insufferable as Lantsov on some days. Lantsov, who currently had his head propped up on his hands, pouting in her direction. Zoya huffed—did he even realize how messy he looked then? His golden hair looked like he’d run a hand through it a dozen or so times that morning, and he was in a blue short-sleeve button-down and jeans. It occurred to Zoya that she’d never actually seen Nikolai outside of work. Never in anything less than a twelve hundred dollar suit. He looked good.

"Who’s making the great Zoya Nazyalensky blush?" came his teasing voice, intruding on her thoughts. Was it her imagination or was there an edge to even his casual tone?

She shook her head, setting aside her phone and forcing all thoughts of messy golden hair out of her head.

"None of your business," she snapped, "and you need to leave before my client shows up."

"Why’s that?" he asked, cocking his head to the side like a lost puppy.

"Because I need plausible deniability when I strangle him for being this late."

He surprised her with a hearty laugh. Then he was sitting upright, leaning across the table as if to whisper a grave secret, "well isn’t it great that you could have me as your defense attorney?"

Zoya almost smiled, but the words tugged at something in her memory, making something in her chest tighten. "Who else would defend a guilty person with such conviction?"

Nikolai looked taken aback, a flash of hurt crossing his features, but Zoya had already stood up, making up her mind to leave and grabbing her briefcase.

"I have things to do," she said, not glancing at him as she plucked her phone from the table and turned to leave. She knew without looking back that he hadn’t moved long after she’d left him.

Back at the firm, Zoya made everyone aware of her presence with the rhythmic clicking of her heels. Mainly Genya, as she stopped in front of her desk, located just beside Zoya’s enclosed office, and dropped a few forms in front of her.

"Fill those out for me, and call back Antonov- since he didn’t bother to show up today, I’ll be working late. Which means you’ll be working late. And find me some coffee before I end up on trial for murdering someone in this building."

Genya glanced at the forms in front of her, toying with a strand of hair, "oh, he called and rescheduled for tomorrow. Said he had some business to attend to."

Zoya had reached her office door and paused in front of it, turning to glare fully at Genya, "and you didn’t think to mention that?"

She shrugged innocently, "slipped my mind."

"Two coffees, Safin." she managed to grind out, "and quit telling Lantsov where to find me."

She ignored Genya’s protest, marching into her office with even more anger on her mind than there was before. Zoya tossed aside her belongings, slumping onto the couch across her desk.

She had less than two weeks to prove herself worthy to become senior partner, or Nikolai Lantsov would become her boss. Somehow even losing to him hadn’t felt as horrible as the idea of working for him. Worse than that, she knew he was a good attorney. She’d attended dozens of his court cases, hidden in the back rows, as well as spoken to old clients. And he had already had that position at his old firm, the same one he’d left to work here instead only three years prior.

Zoya wanted to believe she was the only one for the role, but Lantsov was a competition like nothing she'd dealt with before. The single person she couldn’t decide how to feel about until today.

You never forget your first.

Saints, he was right.

By the time the words on her screen began to blur together, it was past midnight, and Zoya was still inside her office, still trying to scrape together a good defense for a client that couldn't even provide decent evidence. She sighed, tearing off her glasses and rubbing at her tired eyes.

Saints, when had she last slept a full night?

Coffee. I need coffee.

There was probably some at the cafeteria, she considered, ready to call out for Genya. But through the glass walls of her office, she could see the dark corridor, and Genya's empty seat. She'd forgotten that she'd sent Safin home early.

Zoya sighed, forcing her legs to stand. She slipped on an extra pair of sneakers she kept in her office rather than her heels. It was far too late for that, and besides, no one would be around to hear her.

The cafeteria was just down the hall to the left, and Zoya was almost never there. She preferred having her food in her office, or going out to eat. And Genya provided everything else. She really deserves a raise , Zoya considered, making her way down the dark hall.

The lights were dim and Zoya didn't bother turning them on, making out the vague shape of the cabinets and a refrigerator, the coffee machine was located just beside the old microwave that had been there since she'd first come to the firm. Someone must have made coffee hours ago, the machine was half full and the glass was cool to the touch. Zoya sighed, feeling for a mug and pouring it inside, too tired to make more.

She sipped at her cold coffee, which did little to prevent her eyes from dragging downward, her mind from straying.

Right now, she needed to find at least two witnesses that would be willing to account for her client. Only, Antonov had not exactly been well-liked, and his pitiful relationship with his wife seemed to be common knowledge. While hate can't by any means be considered proof of his guilt in her murder, it certainly made for good motive.

Especially if somebody needed him out of the scene .

A sudden crash sounded, almost making Zoya drop her mug, heart pounding in her chest. She frowned, setting it down and slowly walking closer to the source. But the halls were empty, and what little she could see was just a bunch of abandoned cubicles where the associates worked. The only other office on this floor was…

She crossed the hall, turning right just as another crash sounded, this time shattering into a million little pieces.

With Nikolai Lantsov standing over them.

Zoya watched for a moment as he pressed his hands together around his nose, shut his eyes tight.

Saints .

His office was a mess. His normally disorganized desk had been sweeped clear, all the junk he kept there now littering the floor around him. Papers and files, an open briefcase, a broken vase all around him. She watched him run a hand through his hair in frustration, his shoulders heaving with nearly palpable rage.

And she'd forgotten glass walls worked both ways.

He froze when he first caught sight of her, but Zoya must've had on a similarly shocked expression as well. For a second neither of them moved, and then she crossed the hall to his office and opened the door, not sure what she was doing there, but certain that he should not be left alone right now.

The mess was far worse up close, and Nikolai Lantsov seemed to be the worst of it. His normally perfect attire was torn, his shirt wrinkled and the buttons only half done. His tie seemed to have suffered the fit of anger, now left abandoned on the ground. And the source of the first crash appeared to be his shoe, since only one currently covered his foot, the other lost somewhere in the mess.

He swallowed, his throat bobbing, "I thought everyone had left."

Zoya raised both brows at him, "so you thought you'd ransack your own office? Just for sport?"

Nikolai sighed, his eyes taking in the room for the first time. " Saints ," he breathed, but made no move to pick anything up.

Zoya shrugged, turning to dust some glass off the very nice set of couches in his office and taking a seat.

"I'm not here to help you clean," she informed him.

The ghost of his usual smile twitched at his lips, "no? Then why are you here?"

Zoya paused, not quite sure how to respond. Because you're supposed to be perfect. Because if you aren't then what on earth am I?

She shrugged, "just be glad for the company, Lantsov."

He nodded, allowing it, and then chose to sit on the single couch beside her, not bothering to check for any shards before slumping into it.

She watched perfect Nikolai Lantsov, son of Alexander Lantsov, golden boy, mock trial champion, and ivy league graduate completely fall apart. And somehow she got no relief from it. Somehow, it didn't make her feel any better than before.

"So, who's winning?" She asked. His eyes snapped to her, wide and haunted. There were dark smudges under his eyes that she hadn't noticed that morning.

"What?" He managed, still looking shaken.

"Senior partner. Any news on that? I'm guessing everyone is betting on you, since you're the office favorite." She said. He looked tired. Lost. But they weren't even friends, barely co-workers that couldn't stand to be around each other. Surely he didn't want to discuss whatever this was with her .

So why did she want him to?

Realization dawned on him and a wave of something akin to guilt washed over his features.

"Oh, Nazyalensky." He muttered, shaking his head. He didn't elaborate further.

Zoya was not going to ask. They didn't ask each other these things. She didn't ask who he'd gone out with or why he'd left his father's firm. He didn't ask about where she'd come from or why she never went home in the summer. Asking wasn't their thing.

And yet. "Any particular reason you took it out on the office?"

Nikolai slumped further into his chair, his messy golden hair catching the dim light of his office, making his features seem almost ghostly. She'd never seen him like this, and it was partly scary, but also partly relieving. As though this were some revelation that he was, in fact, human.

"I won't tell you it's going to be okay, Lantsov. I'm a criminal attorney, I've seen the shit this world pulls people through. I've seen how many don't make it out. But right now, I'm here, so you can either wallow alone in your misery, or be glad of the fact that I bothered to ask to begin with."

He blinked at her with some surprise, and then huffed a laugh. "Alright then," he said, nodding to himself, "I just found out my father's going on trial. And I've been tasked to be the attorney against him."

Whatever sharp words Zoya had been preparing abandoned her in an instant. She frowned, "I wasn't aware you were a big fan of the guy."

Nikolai laughed, "no, but I'm not exactly thrilled to be the one to try and put him behind bars. Especially not if he has Vasya represent him— the man can't work his way around a car, but he's a snake in court. I'm not even sure I can win a case like this, even if my clients are the victims."

Zoya nodded, her mind trying to make connections. She'd heard of the case against the Lantsov firm, women stepping forward about sexual harassment in the workplace. She hadn't realized who it was, or how Nikolai would somehow be dragged into it.

"You're an idiot, you know." She informed him.

Nikolai blanched, looking at her with confusion. Zoya gave him a one-shouldered shrug, "you're the best attorney here, Lantsov, as much as I hate to admit it. You've beaten me , and I thought I was the best. So quit worrying about your own competence and concern yourself with how awkward Christmas is going to be from now on."

He laughed with surprise, his hazel eyes almost returning to their normal gleam.

"Nazyalensky, I-"

"No, those were not compliments. You're the best until I make senior partner or you somehow become unlucky enough to oppose me in court again, which I doubt will happen in the near future. I haven't lost a single case in the full five years I've been practicing," she caught his gaze and leaned forward so her last words were very clear. "And that record won't change."

Nikolai considered her, his eyes flicking over her face. She wasn't sure when the space between them had become so little, just that they were closer now. Just that her heart was beating faster now.

"Well," he said softly, close enough that his words brushed against her cheek, making her lashes flutter, "imagine how it feels knowing I was the only one to beat you."

She let her lips curve into a smirk, and whispered, "don’t get used to it."

Then she was standing, forcing her gaze away from him and marching out of the office. It was probably time to go home by then, but with the way her heart was beating and the heat in her cheeks, the only thing Zoya wanted to do was keep her mind off of Lantsov, and on anything else.

Witnesses were a pain in the ass. They were all so saint-forsaken weak when it came to testifying. She saw the way Nikolai dealt with them, the one time they’d had to work together for a case. He played every part they needed— flirtatious attorney, gentle soul, rich golfing guy, drinks-on-me, and somehow they all worked.

Zoya had exactly one method of dealing with people in general: scaring the shit out of them.

And that worked, too.

"That’s the court date. I will see you on that day, won’t I Mrs. Krupin? Without a subpoena order this time."

The woman bobbed her head in understanding, and Zoya tried not to roll her eyes until she had turned around fully and began walking away. She needed this case out of the way so she could sleep. Or focus on other things.

Like last night. Like Nikolai Lantsov.

She shoved aside the thought, but her steps had barely gotten her out of the park when her phone rang. Of all the people…

"Make it quick, make it short." she answered swiftly.

"That’s no way to speak to your favorite co-worker," said Nikolai on the other end, but even she could tell his humor was strained.

"Oh, sorry Alina I didn’t realize this was you,"

"Very funny," said Nikolai dryly. "Listen, would you mind meeting me real quick? I could use some advice about yesterday's dilemma."

Zoya stopped walking, figuring a taxi wasn’t worth hailing if she was just going to turn back to the firm. She sighed, "and why would I choose to help you instead of take a well-deserved nap?"

"Coffee on me?"

Zoya considered this. "And cake."

She could practically hear his smile, "and cake."

"What do you mean Friday?" Zoya nearly dropped her cup in surprise.

Nikolai winced, "I may have let this gather dust on my desk for a few weeks when I saw my father’s name on it. I had no idea what the file actually contained."

Zoya stared at him, trying to figure out how someone so well put together could also be so stupid. And have such stupidly nice hair.

"I’m going to try very hard not to strangle you right now, Lantsov." she said, shaking her head.

Nikolai pushed the plate with a slice of half-eaten chocolate cake towards her with a grin, "that’s what the cake is for."

She sighed, dipping her fork back for another bite. He was very lucky this place made the best cake.

"Okay, well give me some good news. Have you talked to anyone from the firm yet?" she asked.

Nikolai sighed, leaning back in his chair and making a good show of appearing very comfortable, and totally at ease. "I can’t do that."

Zoya froze, "you can’t what?"

"I can’t go to the office—legally, I can’t even step foot inside."

Zoya watched him, searching for signs to discredit this fact. But Nikolai was a perfect actor, she’d discovered as much on their very first trial. He could be completely terrified and still smile and crack a joke.

Not last night. Not with me.

"What about the people? Have Isaak find you their numbers, maybe if you ask them to meet you—"

"I tried that," said Nikolai, "and that led to a much bigger problem."

"Which is?" Zoya was almost afraid to ask.

"None of them want to testify. They’re willing to give anonymous statements, but that’s as far as they can be pushed." he sighed, a crease forming between his brows. "They’re scared of him, Zoya, far too scared to actually do anything. And anyone who wasn’t directly harmed by the man is too afraid of losing their jobs to say anything helpful. In every way, it’s a losing case, and it’ll be on my head."

Zoya tapped her fingers restlessly against the table, watching him.

"Why’d you leave?" she asked finally.

"What do you mean?" he asked, frowning.

"Why did you leave your father’s firm. You had a good position there, you were definitely making more money, and I know you aren’t some schoolboy desperate for independence. So, why?"

Nikolai sighed, straightening in his seat. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture she was growing to appreciate, and also take note of. He was nervous.

His hazel eyes focused on her, and there was something of a secret behind the natural gleam. "I was fired."

Whatever Zoya had been expecting, that had certainly not been it.

"What?"

"Yeah," he said, his gaze roving over the cafe around them, words dropping lower, "about a month after my case against you, something happened with one of the secretaries. With what I know now, it must have been a similar situation, but I had no clue back then. Still, something smelled off, and I had to know. I just had to."

Zoya couldn’t stop herself from leaning forward as he grew more intent, animating his words with his hands.

"My honest guess was that my dad had dropped her salary, or had bullied her out of the job—you never had the displeasure of meeting him, but it wasn’t uncommon. Only, he wouldn’t tell me, and Vasya seemed aware of whatever it was, but it was all so far under wraps the most I got out was her name. We got into it, me and my father, and I did what every reasonable attorney does when faced with matters regarding the law. I threatened to sue."

He swallowed, throat bobbing. "I never got the chance to. Not long after, I had transferred to your firm," a smile twitched at his lips, "hard to forget the last time someone really gave you a run for your money."

"In case you forgot, I lost that day," Zoya said, but it was the first time she’d recounted the memory without copious amounts of rage.

"That didn’t make you any less of a good opponent," he said, his bright eyes swearing his words were true. Zoya hoped the heat in her cheeks was from the sun.

Then something seemed to click in Nikolai’s mind, and she could practically see he cogs in his brain working, "oh, Saints,"

Zoya frowned as he rushed to stand, snatching his briefcase from the chair, a wide grin spreading over his features.

"Nikolai, what is it?"

"Two good things just happened, Zoya," he announced proudly, "the first? I figured out exactly how I’m going to win."

Zoya crossed her arms, looking him over once. She raised a brow.

"And the second?"

Nikolai gave her his most charming grin, as though he knew the words would earn him a sharp glare and wanted to revel in saying them. "You finally called me by my first name."

G: did you find her? How'd it go?

Zoya frowned as she approached Genya's desk at the same time she received a cryptic message from her secretary.

"Who am I meant to find?" She asked.

Genya glanced up from her phone long enough to frown, "what?"

"This," Zoya spun her own screen so the other woman could read it, and watched Genya's eyes go wide.

"Oh, that's not meant for you," she said. "It's something a friend and I were planning, just ignore it."

Zoya raised an unamused brow, "okay, plan it later because we need to get a court order by the end of the day, and I'm going to need you to do that for me, Gen."

"It's always 'Gen' when you need something," she said sadly, "never 'Gen, I've come to confess my undying love and devotion for you', always such a disappointment, Zoya."

Zoya looked back at her, exasperating, "you're married! "

"That's not the point."

Zoya rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile touching her lips as she entered her office. For once, there was no stack of papers awaiting her on the desk. Just a single envelope.

Zoya scanned it's contents once, releasing an exasperated sigh. The court order had apparently been sent, courtesy of Genya Safin, who hadn't bothered to mention the fact. Saints.

And it was for Friday morning, the same day as Nikolai's court date. Which meant she could either attend her own case and win, or blow it off to support him.

He doesn't need me there.

But she'd been the only one to see Nikolai's state the night she'd found him destroying his office. He would never let anyone see him crack like that. And for some reason, Zoya Nazyalensky was finding it harder and harder not to care about it.

About him.

It was nine o'clock in the morning and Zoya Nazyalensky was running in heels.

It was a task she had mastered in college, when the overload of classes she had taken overlapped in time and happened to be full campuses apart, but she had grown rusty over the years, and her toes were already screaming in pain by the time she reached the hall.

Zoya had not lost a single case since she'd gone against Nikolai Lantsov, and she wasn't going to lose one because of Nikolai Lantsov.

So when she'd strongly recommended that her client go for a change in counsel, had convinced him he'd lose the case with her as his defendant, it hadn't hurt Zoya's record nearly as much as her pride.

Her heels clicked loudly in the empty hall when she entered, the building distantly familiar to her mind, though she couldn't place it just then.

She found the door she was looking for, once again struck by a sense of deja vu that she absolutely had no time for. And then she was slipping inside as noiselessly as possible.

The hall was fuller than most cases she'd been privy to attend—but then Alexander Lantsov wasn't most people. Zoya sat in the last row on the left, where Nikolai was visible leaning back against the table, seemingly at ease to everyone else. Only Zoya noticed his stiff soldiers and the way his gaze kept flicking back to his father.

"-is that all?" The judge was saying. Zoya realized there was someone currently giving a statement, though Nikolai's broad shoulders were positioned so she couldn't see the person themselves.

"No further questions, your honor," came a smooth voice that made her gaze snap to the right. Vasily Lantsov. He was shorter than Nikolai, and far less attractive, with paler hair and a weak chin, his suit buttons struggling against the curve of his stomach.

But he was also grinning as though he knew he had already won. Saints.

"If Mr Lantsov would like to call any other witnesses…" continued Vasily, his eyes scanning the rows of seats behind Nikolai. Most of them were men, many of which she didn't think had anything to do with Nikolai's side to begin with. She frowned. "Unless of course, there are none? I believe we were promised an abundance of evidence, plenty of victim accounts, and yet… none appear to be present."

This was the part where she expected the judge to side with Nikolai, or to at least tell off Vasily for speaking out of place. But he must have thought the same thing everyone in that room was thinking, the same thing Zoya was thinking.

Nikolai Lantsov had no other victims to call on.

Nikolai straightened, beginning to pace towards the jury, "you're absolutely right, I have brought no one else. But, your honor, I believe any evidence, if it can be tracked to the appropriate person, with a time and date stamp, would be just as honest, would it not?"

The judge considered Nikolai for a moment, the lines of his face drawing into a scowl, "how so?"

"Say, if I had accounts from every single victim, their own story and a way that connects it to them, would that be considered reasonable evidence, accepted by the court?"

He spoke like he knew the answer. Zoya tracked him with her eyes. He was watching the judge intently as the man thought of this new statement. "Yes, it can be considered reasonable."

"Objection-" began Vasily, the voice of whom was quickly turning Zoya's mood sour. No wonder Nikolai doesn't talk about him much.

"Overruled," the judge said, folding his hands over his stomach to watch the proceedings. He must have seen Nikolai in action before, just as Zoya had, because they both anticipated a performance.

"I'd like to call on the same witness, Your Honor. She has all the evidence you need with her."

Zoya frowned. No clever remarks, no finding holes in the system. Her gaze followed Nikolai back to the seat where a witness was seated. Only this time, she was in clear view, and there was no way Zoya could mistaken her for anyone else.

Not with that red hair, those amber eyes she saw every single morning.

Genya Safin raised her chin as everyone's attention settled on her. The most I got was her name.

Oh, Saints.

Genya didn't even flinch as she picked up her phone and settled it on the desk in front of her.

"Miss Safin," said Nikolai, "please recount to the jury what evidence you've gathered."

Zoya noticed the way her fingers shook slightly as she opened her phone. "As I said, I worked closely with Mr. Lantsov, but I had many friends in the workplace. I was the one people went to when they had trouble, when they needed help, or when they were looking to have a good time. I knew everyone because it was my job to know. I spoke to everyone because I had to."

She let out a shuddering breath, but when she spoke again, her voice was steady, and strong. "And I never delete a thing."

Then she set down her phone so the speaker was directed at the microphone, and began playing a recording. It seemed to be an audio message, a woman's broken voice speaking. "Genya, I know you've been through this too. I heard the stories, please, please. Tell me what to do. How do I fix this? I'm scared, Gen. Help me, please."

The recording ended, and then she played another, and another. Some of them were messages she read out, others full two-sided phone calls she'd recorded. And each of them a new voice confirming Alexander Lantsov's guilt.

And by the end of it the change in the room was clear. Vasily's face was white as a sheet, Alexander looking just as shaken as his son. The jury had various reactions from horror to anger to some with tears streaming down their faces. And Nikolai Lantsov stood ramrod straight, not daring to look left, his entire posture stiff.

"Is there anything you'd like to add before we adjourn?" Asked the judge. The words were meant for Nikolai, but he only glanced once at Genya. She nodded, and when she spoke again, her voice was loud and clear, her eyes glaring daggers at Alexander Lantsov.

"You told me once I was ruined. But I am not ruined, I am ruination." She narrowed her eyes at him. "And I hope you rot in hell for what you've done."

Zoya didn't get a chance to see Genya once the hall was cleared up, and Nikolai seemed to disappear just as quickly. It wasn't until hours later that she found the latter wandering around the park a few streets away from their firm, still dressed in that morning's suit, his countenance just as shaken as it had been earlier.

"What, no celebratory drinks for the win?" Asked Zoya as she approached him. Nikolai looked up with surprise, his features relaxing into a smile when he saw that it was her.

"The drinks part I'll admit is tempting, but I don't see much of a celebration to be had." He admitted.

"Don't tell me you're feeling guilty about this morning," she said, eyeing him warily.

Surprise crossed his features, "saints, no, I'm glad to be rid of the man. Granted, my mother won't so much as look in my direction, but…" he shook his head.

"Out with it, Lantsov," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

He sighed, "it could have been sooner. It should have. If I hadn't left the firm so quickly, if I hadn't let him force me out…"

Zoya swept him from head to toe with a sharp look, "self-pity doesn't suit you, Nikolai, so drop it."

"That's not-"

"Yes, it is. And I don't want to hear it. You did a good thing back there, you can stop dwelling on the past and start working towards something bigger. Like making senior partner."

He straightened, "what are you talking about?"

Zoya forced herself not to avert her gaze from the intense look in his eyes. "My client asked for a change in defense. I lost someone for the firm on the same day you cracked a big case, Nikolai, it doesn't take a genius to connect those dots."

Realization dawned on his face, then to her surprise, a smile spread across his lips. "Tell you what, meet me back here in two hours—and trust me, it's worth it."

For the second time in her life, Zoya Nazyalensky was waiting on Nikolai Lantsov.

He arrived fashionably late, back in something more casual, jeans and a dark collared shirt. Zoya raised a brow, "it's even more surprising when you're late now that I know you own a watch."

But he didn't wait for Zoya to make her way through the list of snarky comments she'd been preparing, a grin already on his face. It was dark out, and it was definitely getting to be too chilly for the skirt she had on.

"You make quite the sight outside of work, Nazyalensky," he said, looking her over appreciatively.

Zoya rolled her eyes, "I hope you didn't drag me out here for more of your fruitless flirting, Lantsov, because I'll just walk away now."

A smile spread over his features.

"Believe me, you don't want to just yet,"

Without warning, he reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her along with him as he turned back down the street towards…

Zoya frowned, "where are we going?"

He didn't answer until they were standing directly in front of it. The same hall they'd been at that morning, the one she'd felt was familiar. It was a plain building with steps leading up to it and large glass doors currently closed.

For reasons unbeknownst to her, Nikolai dropped her hand. Zoya tried not to be disappointed.

"Believe it or not, I have seen the city before so it'll take more than that to impress me," said Zoya with a raised brow.

His grin never faltered, "I brought you here for two reasons, Nazyalensky. Let me at least get to the first without you threatening to murder me once, will you?"

"I'll do my best," she said with a sweet smile. But she had to admit her curiosity was piqued.

"First, I figured out why you hate me."

If he didn't look so certain of his statement, Zoya might have laughed. And to her own surprise, she found that her automatic response had been to rebuke it immediately. How could I possibly hate you, you idiot.

"Did you find my secret list of reasons to hate Nikolai Lantsov?" She asked dryly.

"No," he nodded back at the building. "Recognized it, didn't you? This was where we held our first trial. The one you lost. See, I thought you were angry because you lost, but you weren't, were you?"

She swallowed, her own words echoing back to her from only a few weeks ago, who else would defend a guilty person with such conviction?

"You were angry because you thought she was innocent."

Zoya folded her arms over her chest. She had expected something ridiculous, but this had exceeded even those thoughts. Yet something in her wanted to listen. Wanted to hear what he had to say. Because maybe, just maybe, he was right.

"Which is exactly why I brought these," he announced, teaching into his pocket to retrieve a few folded papers, reaching them out to her with a pleased expression on his face. But Zoya caught the bit of nervousness in his eyes as she took the papers from him.

"I was there at the trial, Nikolai. I've seen all the evidence."

"This one's not for the court," he said, "this one's for you."

It was a list. A list of names she was surprised to find she recognized, and beside them, various amounts of money. Transactions.

"Nikolai, what is this?" She asked quietly, rereading each name with disbelief.

"Backup," he admitted, "something I never ended up using because my claim was strong enough without it. But there's the list of witnesses you called, and the amount of money they'd been paid off to give their statements for your client."

Something like relief, but far more intense, exploded in Zoya's chest. Eight years in prison, and she'd been counting them down, certain she'd made a mistake. How many pro bono cases had she taken just to make up for that loss? She'd come to serve the justice system, and had been so sure it had tricked her somehow.

"I never would have taken my client's case if I'd known he was in the wrong." Nikolai's words were quiet, his bright hazel eyes intense and honest.

Saints, they were beautiful. He was beautiful.

"And the second thing?" She managed, forcing her thoughts away from how the moon's light caught Nikolai's features at just the right angle, the way his golden hair was mussed just right. The urge she had to thread her fingers through it.

"Ah, that," he said, and now there was definitely a hint of nervousness in his voice. Maybe more than a bit. Were his ears going pink?

"Nikolai, what is it?" Zoya asked with a frown.

"I might have… lied about the senior partner competition. And the pool."

Her brows raised in surprise, "you made up a bet to make me feel better about losing?"

"No, the bet was definitely real. And the fact that Juris is searching for a senior partner is also true," Nikolai swallowed, glancing away. "But he already found one. He told me as much. You're getting it, Zoya, the position has been yours for months now, he's just waiting for the other partners to sign on before asking you."

Zoya gaped at Nikolai. Everything she had worked for ever since she'd started working at the firm had been this—the chance to become more than just a small piece in the elaborate clockwork of the workplace. She wanted more, had always wanted more. And now…

"What do you mean the bet was real?" She asked, eyeing him with distrust.

Nikolai ran a hand through his hair, a telltale sign that he was nervous. "The bet was about you and me. About how long it would take me to convince you to go out with me."

Zoya stared at him for a long moment, "why would anyone bet on that?"

Now, he looked less nervous and more… exasperated. "Come on, Nazyalensky. The entire office figured it out, I didn't think it would take the best attorney in our firm so long to catch on."

Oh. Oh.

Zoya was left too struck to speak for a moment. But this was Nikolai. Stupid, stupid Nikolai, the one who'd become her first nemesis and her competition. The same one she'd fought to win against in every single mock trial, and still debated with on every little thing.

Saints above, it was Nikolai. Always, always Nikolai.

"You idiot," she said softly.

His brows drew together in confusion, but whatever he was about to say was silenced when she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to her, catching his lips with hers.

Nikolai froze for a moment before his mind seemed to catch up with his body, and then one hand came up to cup her face, the other tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer to him, as though he were afraid she'd disappear if he just let go, his lips writing a promise onto hers.

All thoughts seemed to abandon her as they broke apart, Zoya feeling slightly dizzy from the kiss and Nikolai's expression dazed.

"Zoya…" he began, a crease appearing between his brows.

"What?" She asked in the space between their breaths.

"I owe Genya so much money," he admitted. Zoya rolled her eyes, effectively shutting him up by pulling him back to her, his lips expertly parting around hers as she linked her arms around his neck, determined to keep him close.

She knew she now owed Genya a decent some of money too, but Nikolai didn't need to know about that.

#my writing*#m:fics #sh:zoyalai #zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #grishaverse #king of scars #rule of wolves #lit:tnd #tndfic #usersana #userhannas #usersai #useramma #tuserkaelyn #zoyalai-network

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