#he’d have taken her help if he hadn’t had an audience

[stabby-apologist]

The way Bella asks Voldemort “My Lord, are you hurt?” in the Forbidden Forest 🥺

[just-jordie-things]

you know you got me in your pocket - okkotsu yuuta

word count: 13k warnings: light swearing.  reader has a cursed technique that has to do with healing but i don’t explain it bc i’m lazy. summary: the path from friends to lovers may take time but it is a simple, true love they share more info: ultimate friends to lovers fic this IS the template a/n: loosely based on this fanart i found on pinterest and also the song always forever by cults bcuz i love that song its so friends to lovers coded ___

[ you and me, always, forever ]

Unlike most cases of friends who harbor crushes for each other but never seemed to figure it out, (y/n) had taken a liking to Yuuta the day they met.  She’d known right away that there was something about him that drew her to him like a magnet, something adorably mysterious, strangely alluring, and completely thrilling.

Seeing him on campus wasn’t a surprise.  Gojo had told her about his recruitment, and upon giving her further detail she’d lovingly told him it was more of a kidnapping.  He’d laughed.  And since then nothing had really changed.  She continued her studies with Shoko in the infirmary, only occasionally seeing the Six Eyes when he needed a new audience to bother, and in fact, she’d almost forgotten the news of a new student her age.

It’s not like there were many instances where she could be reminded.  She didn’t see the other students at Jujutsu Tech often, since they spent their time training to be sorcerers, while her cursed technique was more equipped for the behind the scenes of jujutsu society.  

So when she feels a heavy presence of cursed energy looming through the front gates, the hair on the back of her neck stands up, and she’s unusually drawn out of her studies to scan the area for the source of the prickle traveling down her spine.

If she didn’t know better, she might have just assumed it was just Gojo.  But it only takes a split second for her to identify this as someone else entirely.  She’s not sure if her shiver is due to fear or intrigue, but either way she just has to learn more, doesn’t she? 

And so you could imagine her surprise when she finally catches the sight of the sorcerer carrying all of this cursed energy, dragging along the main path on his way to the main building.  She can’t recall his name right away, but she assumes he’s the new kid that Gojo had told her about a week or so prior.

She’s far enough away that she doesn’t get a good look at him, but she can see enough from where she sits amongst the trees.  He’s not at all what she had been expecting.

He didn’t look like the piece of shit egotistical douchebag that she had assumed he’d be when Gojo had told her about him.

And if she couldn’t feel the cursed energy radiating off of him even from this far away, she might’ve thought he was a non-sorcerer altogether.

His shoulders sagged like gravity was heavier on him than most people.  He moved slowly.  His sneakers scraped along the pavement.  His hands were fiddling with each other anxiously, fingers catching and pulling and twisting over and over.

Perhaps she was letting her curiosity make her naive, but any fear she might have felt when he first entered the courtyard dissipated as she tracked his awkward movements towards the school.  Awkward.  It was the perfect way to describe her first impression of him.

He hadn’t seemed to notice her during her assessment of him.  And this was proven when their paths did properly cross.

It had happened late one evening, shortly after Yuuta’s initial admittance to Jujutsu Tech.  It only took one text from Shoko for her to be out of bed, in her uniform, and on her way to the infirmary.  Apparently, Yuuta was also racing around campus, for whatever reason, and that’s how he (almost literally) ran into her.

“Oh!” 

His greeting was just as awkward as her first impression of him.  She can’t help but laugh a little bit.  He’s clearly flustered, his eyes wide and his mouth not making any proper words, and the large knife in his hand looks severely out of place.

But he must see her look straight at it while he’s trying to figure out how to politely ask who the hell she was because he’s never seen her before- because suddenly he remembers how to speak.

“This isn’t mine!” 

He doesn’t mean to shriek, but he feels like he should explain why he’s running around at night with a knife.  It doesn’t dawn on him at all that she’s used to people casually carrying weapons around, and this little knife isn’t even close to being a concern for her.

Nonetheless, she goes along with it.  She should be rushing to the infirmary, but something keeps her put before him.

“Oh?” She tries not to laugh as she takes in his heavy wince.  “While I find your courage outstanding, I’m not sure this is the place you want to go stealing people’s knives,” She’s only teasing, but it does nothing to relieve the panic on his face.  “You know, cause people around here don’t need knives to kill you,” 

Yuuta swallows, and (y/n) finally gives him a break and shakes her head as she laughs to herself.

He expresses his anxiousness in small shuffles of his feet, and he tries to laugh along but the sound is strained and nervous.  If she knew him better and understood him, she likes to think she’d tell him to lighten up, but that feels like a bold step, so she tries to ease his anxiety with more subtlety.

“You didn’t spook me with that knife,” She clarifies.  “I’d be more scared of all that cursed energy you’ve got, if anything” 

“O-oh” 

“But I’m not,” She tells him, matter-of-factly.

He gives her a look like he’s not sure if he should believe her.  With the way the other students had reacted when they first met, he’s surprised she doesn’t have him in a chokehold right now.  Instead, she stands before him without a defensive stance, and she gives him a small smile.

“But… what are you doing out this late?” She can’t help but have curiosity about what he was doing there in the first place.  “Aren’t you all going out on an assignment first thing in the morning?”

Normally, she didn’t listen much when Gojo rambled on about his teachings.  However yesterday’s lessons with Shoko had been few and far between, so when her old friend stopped by for entertainment, she boredly listened along while he bragged about taking his class on a group outing.  She supposed that little piece of information became useful for small talk now.

“Yeah, well,” Yuuta sighed, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously.  “I was supposed to return this earlier, but I forgot, and now I…” 

His words trail off, along with his eyes as he turns to stare at the floor out of embarrassment.

“I got lost” 

“It’s Maki’s, isn’t it?” She asks knowingly, even though she’s not familiar with this knife.

Yuuta nods.

“I’ll show you the way” She says, gesturing for him to follow her, and walking off before he could really comprehend what she was offering.  His sneakers squeak on the linoleum floor as he rushes after her a few seconds delayed.

He takes a minute or two before he finds the courage to say something.

“Thank you,” He settles, peeking over at her from the corner of his eye.  “I’m Yuuta, by the way” 

She turns to give him a beam as she replies, “I know,”

It has a lump forming in his throat, his chest filling with something warm and akin to bashfulness.  He’d never seen her before, and he was certain he would have remembered if they’d met, especially since she was so pretty, but she appeared to be his age too, and he wondered why she hadn’t been around for any classes, or training sessions.

“I’m (y/n)” She introduces herself after a beat passes.  Yuuta wants to say something more, but he doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything at all.

He fidgets with the knife as he follows her through the corridors.  It’s a large building, and the longer they walk, the more he’s grateful he hadn’t gotten more lost than he had.  It takes a few minutes until she finally stops at a door, and slides it open.  Yuuta recognized it as soon as it’s contents were revealed.

Every inch of the walls were filled with weapons.  Racks with blades and staffs of all shapes and sizes, shelves of an assortment of more alternative weapons, he’d been in here when Gojo had given him a speedy tour on his first day.  Although now that he’s not being rushed from room to room, his gaze travels around the small space, taking in every deadly tool here.

“You’ll get used to it” (y/n) speaks, and he’s drawn out of his reverie when she plucks the knife from his hands to put it back in it’s proper place.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to any of this” He mumbles back, eyes caught on a rather daunting gun propped up among other things.

Nunchucks and knives were one thing.  He was pretty sure that was an AK-47.  He’d only ever seen those in movies.

(y/n) chuckles softly, amused by how out of place he seemed.  For a guy with more cursed energy than he knew what to do with, she found it interesting how juvenile he came across.

Not that it was a bad thing.  It was sort of… refreshing, if she thought about it.

“You will,” She assured him kindly.  “It’ll feel weird for a while, but, yaknow.  Eventually everyone settles in, right?” 

He tears his eyes away from the machine gun to see that she’s giving him a small smile, and he doesn’t know her very well, or at all, but he can tell that she’s being genuine.

“I guess”

He doesn’t know what else to say.

“Well, I have to get going to a lesson,” She explains, jerking her thumb back towards the door.  “You good to get back to your dorm? I probably wouldn’t get in trouble if I explained I was just helping the new kid” 

Yuuta nods, the movement awkward, and shaky.

“Yeah, I’m good, I think” He doesn’t sound so sure, but (y/n) assumes the best way for him to learn his way around is to get lost just a little.

“Alright, I’ll see ya around then,” She gives him a wave as she ducks out of the small armory.  “Good luck with your assignment tomorrow!”

Her voice carries as she jogs through the corridors to quickly get to where Shoko was waiting, leaving Yuuta to linger, a bit dumbfounded and bewildered by the whole interaction.

He supposed he’d gotten her name, but he still had no clue who she was.  He’d have to make a better effort to reach out next time their paths crossed.  She was the first person here to give him a semi-warm welcome, after all.

When (y/n) arrived at the infirmary with a brighter-than-usual smile and the remnants of a blush on her cheeks, Shoko eyed her curiously, but didn’t outwardly call her out on the strange demeanor.

[ say you’ll stay, never be severed ]

The next time Yuuta does see (y/n), he’s sitting alone at a picnic table in the courtyard with only the company of his lunch bag.  He sees her walking out of the building with a bag on her shoulder.  She’s clearly on a mission, but he finds himself calling out to her and waving his hand anyways.

He assumes she’ll give him a polite nod and keep heading on her way, but she stops in her tracks to turn his way, waving back, before she’s actually walking over to him.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but Yuuta panics a bit.  He had yet to form any solid enough friendships with the other students in his year, hence the lunching alone out here, and he had a worry that soon she would also see him as a loner and an outsider, and she’d avoid him too.

But as she approaches the wooden table, she gives him a smile so friendly he could never believe it was forced.

“Hey,” Even her voice sounds kind.  “You eating alone?” 

“Uh-” Yuuta glances around as if looking for an excuse, but the bento box in front of him and lack of any other person around is evidence enough.  “Yeah” He replies sheepishly.

Here it comes, Yuuta braces himself, the beginning of her thinking he’s a loner.  He shouldn’t have even held onto that scrap of hope when she’d walked this way, but here he was, holding his breath.

“Want company?”

His head turns back to her, assessing if she really meant it, and seeing that small smile still curled on her lips, he gives her a short nod.

“Yeah,” He answers.  “Yeah, that’d be… nice” 

Her small smile turns into a grin as she sits on the bench across from him, setting her bag on the table.

“How are you settling in?” She asks him kindly, and he gives a weak shrug of his shoulders.

“I guess… as well as I can,” He says honestly, and she nods back in understanding.  He pushes past the urge to sit in silence where he knows he can’t say the wrong thing, and continue talking to her.  She’s nice, he tells himself.  She’s nice, and I want to make friends here.  I want to be happy here.  “I think everyone’s a little afraid of me, to be honest,” He admits.  “Or they’re annoyed with how behind all of them that I am” 

“Maki can be a little stand-offish,” (y/n) thinks aloud.  “And Inumaki is hard to get to know at first.  But he’s a really nice guy once you do get to know him.  Just don’t be nervous when he’s silent.  He’s a goofball,” 

Yuuta takes her advice to heart, hoping that she could give him all the keys to friendship he’d been lacking.  He nods earnestly.

“And so is Panda,” She continued.  “But it’s been awhile since there’s been someone new around here.  That doesn’t really happen for us” 

“Really?” He asks, and she nods.

“Yeah.  Most of these people have known each other since they were young.  Or at least are aware of each other’s clan politics” 

“I see” Yuuta mumbles, feeling yet again like an outsider.  (y/n) can tell this information doesn’t sit well with him.

“I think it’s nice,” She says boldly, and truthfully.  He stares at her like she just said something ridiculous.  “When the only people you get to see every day are people you’ve known your whole life, it can be sorta lonely,” She admits with a small chuckle.  “It’ll be nice to get to know someone new,” 

She leans over the table a bit, setting her elbows down so she can rest her head in her hands.

“If that’s not too forward” She says with a bashful smile.

Yuuta blinks once, twice, before shaking his head with certainty.

“It’s not” He says, fast.

“Good,” (y/n’s) beam brightens.  “Want to have lunch with me again tomorrow?” 

He nods again, his nerves starting to melt away, letting him smile back at her.

“Will you be in class tomorrow?” He asks hopefully.  Maybe now he’ll finally have someone he can sit with, even if he’s still too shy to strike up a conversation, at least he won’t feel so alone all the time.

“Oh,” (y/n’s) lips quickly fall to a frown.  “I’m actually not one of Gojo’s students,” She tells him, and it makes her sad to see him deflate so fast.  “I’m training in the infirmary, with Shoko.  Have you met her?” 

Yuuta shakes his head.

“I don’t think so” 

“Well I’ll introduce you sometime,” She tells him.  “But I don’t have a decent enough cursed technique to be a sorcerer, so I’m studying under her in order to go more into the… background things” She explains.

“I see,” Yuuta tries not to let his disappointment show, so as not to make her feel bad.  He focuses instead on getting to know her better.  “So you’re working in, like, the medical field then?”

(y/n) nods her head from side to side.

“Something like that,” She chuckles.  “It’s mostly watching Shoko use her technique to heal injuries after rougher assignments.  I don’t get to use mine too much, but I’m starting to learn how to heal myself, so that’s a start, I suppose” 

“That’s cool!” 

(y/n’s) eyes blink wide in surprise.

“You can heal yourself?”

“I mean, I healed a papercut once” She laughs bashfully.  In comparison to Shoko’s reverse cursed technique, doing a shoddy job at patching up a small slice on her finger seemed like a joke.  But Yuuta grins like he’s never heard anything more interesting.

“You’re lucky,” He tells her, and she raises a brow at him, wondering if this was all some elaborate prank where he’d wind up laughing in her face at how weak she was compared to everyone else, compared to him.  “That’s a really useful ability.  That’s not background at all.  It’s helpful” 

As she processes the kind words, (y/n) wonders if this is why she’d felt drawn to him when they met a few nights ago.  Underneath the shy exterior Yuuta displayed was nothing but kindness, and warmth.  She could feel it in her cheeks, and in her chest.  Her heart even stuttered a little.

“I mean, I barely have a handle on it,” She admits.  “I don’t think I’ve been all that helpful to anyone” 

“But you’re learning, right?” Yuuta shrugs a shoulder in understanding.  “I guess that’s sorta how I feel, too,” He realized, dropping his gaze to his forgotten lunch as he thought about it.  “I just want to be…”

He trails off, but (y/n) waits with eager anticipation for him to continue his thought.

“Useful”

His voice is quiet, and his expression is unsure as he looks back up at her.  Suddenly feeling like that was far too pathetic of a thing to say to someone that he’d like to become friends with.  But before he can backtrack and supply a better word, like strong or courageous, she’s grinning.

Her face nearly splits in two as her beam stretches from ear to ear, all teeth and twinkling eyes to match.  A small laugh escapes her before she starts to nod passionately.

“That’s exactly how it feels,” She agrees, filling him with relief so strong it’s visible in the way his shoulders relax.  (y/n) notices, but doesn’t say anything.  Something warm and fuzzy nestles in her chest, and she has a good feeling about this new friendship blossoming.

Truth was, (y/n) got along fine with the other students here, but they’d only cross paths on occasion and she couldn’t say that she was necessarily close to any of them, simply on good terms enough to catch up in brief passing with one another.  The disconnect between her studies and the rest of the sorcerers-in-training around here was a trench of a gap, and if she was honest with herself, it could prove to be a little lonely.

Shoko was a great teacher, she was kind and involved, but she was still a teacher.  Gojo was… about the same, with just a bit more peskiness to him when it came to involving himself.  But it was all in good nature, he knew that she was a bit isolated here.

But then Yuuta came along.  And even just this short interaction had her glowing with excitement at finally forming a connection with someone.  He probably thought she was just being pleasant since he was the new kid and he’d been eating lunch alone, but it couldn’t be further from the truth.  She had a genuine interest in him that had started innocently enough, but she had a feeling it would only blossom into something more.

“I think that we’re going to be-” 

She’s about to voice this thought, about to tell him that she knows in her heart that they’ll make excellent friends, but her timing was just a tad too slow, and she was interrupted by her phone ringing.

With the intention of silencing it and ignoring the call for now, she gives him an apologetic look before pulling it out of her pocket, only to huff when she realizes it’s not a call she can just silence.

“Sorry,” She frowns.  “It’s Shoko, I should take this, she’s probably got something for me back at the lab” 

“It’s alright,” Yuuta smiles as he shakes his head in understanding.  “I get it” 

“Thanks,” (y/n) grabs her bag as she jumps up from the table, disappointed to cut their time short, but excited to see what Shoko would have in store for her today.  Before she can race off, she pauses, one hand gripping the strap of her bag and the other occupied with the phone that’s still ringing.  “Lunch tomorrow though, right?” She double checks.

The pink that dusts Yuuta’s cheeks is undeniable, and it makes a smile bloom on her face, too.

“Right” He says with a shy nod while he rubs his clammy hands over his knees.

“Alright,” (y/n) nods back, and she’d like to think she’s smooth, but she’s blushing just the same.  “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Okkotsu” 

She takes off before she can see his face turn from pink to red, his enthusiasm for having plans with a friend- a cute friend- shining in the heat of his cheeks.  

He spends the rest of his lunch period trying to think of things to talk to her about tomorrow, questions to ask, stories to share.  He racked his brain for fifteen minutes before going to class, where he then gets a little lost in space as he wonders about it some more.

[ you know you got me in your pocket, you don’t just have to wait around ]

When (y/n) feels that lingering fuzziness in her chest turn into something more, it was shortly after she’d spent the better half of an hour telling Shoko that her friendship with Okkotsu Yuuta was just that.  Friendship.

“If you say so,” The woman shrugged a shoulder as she pulled the gloves off of her hands, getting ready to wrap up the day.  “Just sayin’.  You talk about him a lot” 

(y/n) gave her a look, blindly tossing her own latex gloves into the trash.

“He’s my friend, I like talking about him,” She explains with nonchalance, even though her heart stuttered in her chest a little bit, as it did every time she mentioned him.  “And I’m also a boring person.  There’s not much to talk about”

“That’s not true, but whatever” Shoko brushes off the lame excuse, and (y/n) rejoices inwardly that the topic can be dropped before Yuuta actually shows up in a few minutes.  

Like most days, they had plans to meet up for lunch, except today they’ll be spending it with the rest of the first years.  After a couple of months, Yuuta finally felt like he belonged here, and had made decent friendships with his peers.  This morning he had texted her to ask if it was alright if they joined them.

[yuuta] : panda offered us seats at the lunch table with inumaki and maki too. do you want to have lunch with them? 

[yuuta] : ok if not!! just wanted to extend the invitation !!

It had made (y/n) smile when that second text popped up so quickly on her phone after she’d opened the first right away.  She could practically see him back pedaling just in case she wasn’t comfortable with a larger group for lunch.  Of course she was, she’d typed back an agreement with a little smiley face within a few seconds of reading the texts, but it was sweet that he’d stick to their usual plan of just the two of them.

Don’t get her wrong, (y/n) had grown to really cherish the time the two of them spent together.  She got to know Yuuta very well during their lunch breaks, and during a few hangouts after lessons and training, too.  She was happy to see how much he opened up once you got to know him, and she loved learning more about him every day.  He was kind, and funny in that nervous sort of way, and he picked up on things quickly.  

The couple of times (y/n) had spent her breaks from the infirmary on the bleachers to watch him train with the other first years, she’d seen a drastic change in his abilities with each session.  It wasn’t often that she was able to slip away long enough to get all the way to the bleachers, watch for a bit while having a snack or catching up on some reading, and then get back to the infirmary before Shoko called her out on trying to ditch her lessons.  Still, she was always impressed with how fast of a learner Yuuta was.  Whether it was with cursed energy or with a bamboo staff to practice wielding a proper katana, he seemed to be comfortable with learning how to fight.

In fact the last time she’d watched him, he looked so natural she could have assumed he’d grown up in jujutsu society just like the rest of them.

When he does make an appearance at the infirmary, Shoko notices him outside the door first.  With a smirk, she nods her head to get (y/n’s) attention.

“Your friend is here,” She says with a teasing lilt in her voice, despite her face remaining as stoic as usual.  

(y/n) gives her a look before turning around to see him waiting politely outside.  When their eyes catch, she gives him a smile and waves at him to come in.

“Picking you up for lunch, hm?” Shoko hums.  “What a little gentleman”

(y/n) shoots her another look, this time as if to say be nice when Yuuta walks in.  He’s still wearing his sheath, but the awkward smile and nervous fiddling of his hands makes a sword on his back look out of place.  For some reason, (y/n) has always found his simple juxtapositions adorable.

Despite having met Shoko before, a few times, actually, Yuuta always gets anxious around her.  It was probably her quietly peculiar aura, something (y/n) had grown used to after so much time spent with her, but in comparison to Yuuta’s teacher who’d never learned to revel in peaceful silence, it could be intimidating.

He gave her a small wave and nod in greeting.  Shoko smirked back at him before turning to (y/n).

“You two get back before too long, alright? No funny business” 

Yuuta visibly paled, his mouth opening to make an explanation that wasn’t coming to mind and left him standing there gaping.  (y/n) rolled her eyes as she grabbed her bag, hoisting the strap over her shoulder as she waved Shoko off.

“Bye Shoko” She said with a half-playful glare, before grabbing Yuuta by the sleeve and dragging him right back out the door before he even got the chance to say hello.

It’s not until they’re out in the hall that he finds his voice.

He tugs at his collar to relieve some of the heat from his neck.

“How were lessons today?” He settles for the safe topic of conversation.  Predictably, (y/n) lets out a small laugh.  She always seemed amused when he was uncomfortable.  He had yet to understand why.

“Good,” She’s kind to him today, not teasing him for his flustering.  At least not beyond that little smirk that makes her eyes glint when she looks at him.  “You?”

He nods his head from side to side.

“Maki kicked my ass,” He said sheepishly.  “But I did get a hit today” He said in a quieter voice, but there was still a hint of pride in his voice.  (y/n) beamed at him.  She understood this was a meaningful accomplishment.

“That’s awesome!” She cheered for him.  “You’ll knock her down next time for sure,” 

He thinks she could be messing with him, but when he looks over at her, her beam is nothing but genuine.  He laughs quietly, not as sure as she was, but appreciative of the sentiment nonetheless.

“Just make sure to invite me next time you spar,” (y/n) continues.  “I want to be there for the big day” 

Sometimes, she has a way of speaking that makes Yuuta wonder why she doesn’t really hang out with anyone but him.  She wasn’t exactly a soft person, he supposed it was this line of work they shared, but there was something inherently friendly about her.  He’d noticed it the first time they’d met, of course, and ever since he couldn’t ignore it if he tried.  For whatever reason, she seemed not only to care about him, but she actually believed in him, too.  More and more, Yuuta began to wonder why.

Inumaki, Panda, and Maki are already at a table with their lunches before them when Yuuta and (y/n) arrive.  Panda notices them first, grinning and waving a paw for them to join.

“(y/n)! Long time no see!” His voice holds pure joy upon her arrival, “How’s the infirmary?” 

“Oh, you know,” (y/n) smiles as she shrugs her shoulders.  “Blood.  Bones.  Repeat.  I can’t complain” 

Panda and Toge are sitting on one side of the table, Maki on the other, and (y/n) happily sits beside her.  Yuuta follows shortly.

“Yuuta told me next time, he’s going to knock your ass out,” She says boldly.  Maki raises a brow, her chopsticks stilling over her dish.  “You’ll let me come watch, yeah?” 

Maki’s eyes shift to Yuuta, a glare behind them that has him straightening in his seat.  Maki smirks at his discomfort, and when she turns back to (y/n), she grins ear to ear.

“I do love an audience,” She agrees, her smirk stretching into a grin at the idea.  She looks back to Yuuta, who’s focused intently on his rice.  “You two have been gettin’ real chummy, huh?”

(y/n) simpered at the comment.  Yuuta tucked his chin against his collar in hopes that they wouldn’t notice the way his face bloomed with heat.

“Tuna, tuna” Inuamki giggles as his elbow bumps into Panda’s arm, and he too begins to chuckle as they watch the pair’s reactions to Maki’s simple observation.

“(y/n’s)- uh- she’s-” 

“Yuuta’s a great friend” (y/n) speaks before Yuuta’s stammering can be laughed at any further.

“Must be, to make you finally come hang out with us” Panda says as he tries to quell his amused chuckling.

“Ikura” Toge mutters.

“Yeah,” Panda nods in agreement with the cursed speech user.  “We didn’t think you liked us anymore” 

Yuuta peeks over at (y/n) in his peripheral vision, but she plasters on a smile and shakes her head to disagree.

“Been busy” She says simply.  There is no follow up, no explanation or excuse.  She pops a grape into her mouth and leaves it at that.

Their lunch continues on as expected.  Catching up, teasing, swapping food.  Thirty minutes seem to pass faster than ever.  And despite enjoying himself amongst his friends, Yuuta can’t help but hyperfixate on that small, odd interaction.

It appeared as though (y/n) and the other first years had gotten along just fine.  Even mirroring old friends.  But he couldn’t help but feel like something was off, that things hadn’t always been this way, that there was a rift he hadn’t been present for.  He knows better than to question it straight away, so he matches energy and remains friendly the rest of the break.

But after telling his classmates he’ll meet up with them shortly, he lingers at the table while (y/n) packs up her things.

“That was nice” His voice feels stiff.  He clears his throat.

(y/n) looks up at him as she pulls the strap of her bag over her shoulder, a soft smile curling on her lips.

“It was” She affirms.

Yuuta shifts his weight from foot to foot as he tries to find the right thing to say next.  (y/n) watches this, and waits, patiently, for him to continue.

“I mean I… I like having lunch just… us,” He says, slowly, afraid of sounding too forward and insinuating something that could be off putting to her.  “But I’m glad you wanted to hang out with…” 

He struggled to find the right thing to say.  (y/n) tilted her head at him curiously, before providing the words for him.

“Your friends?” She suggests with a small smile.

Yuuta blinks, color spreading over his cheeks before his smile mirrors hers, and then he nods.

“Yeah,” He concurred.  

It must have been a rush of courage that compelled him to say what he did next, because as soon as he said it out loud, blood rushed up his neck and into his cheeks.

“You’re a great friend, too, by the way.  I’m glad you were here.  Or, well, are here”

She laughs, not because what he was was funny, but because she was overcome by delight by his words that she simply couldn’t contain it.  Her fingers curl tightly around her bag, her heart flutters with something sickeningly sweet in her chest.

This was that something more.  This wasn’t just silly eagerness towards a new friend.  This much more.  It was heavy.  It filled her heart until it burst and flooded her body with warmth, traveling down her spine in ticklish sparks, and ending in the tips of her fingers and toes.  It almost felt like cursed energy, the way it buzzed through her excitedly, on it’s own accord, but she knew better.

This was infatuation.  She was infatuated with Yuuta.  She had feelings for Yuuta.

“I’m glad you’re here, too, Yuuta,” She speaks with every genuine bone in her body, now reinforced with that tingling feeling that has her soft smile turning into a full blown grin.  “Really glad” She repeats softly.

He should feel embarrassed because he knows he’s blushing and he’s having a hard time holding eye contact with her, but for some reason, he doesn’t feel embarrassed at all.  Instead he smiles, bright and beautiful.

“I- I have to-” 

“You have class,” (y/n) laughs bashfully, turning away in an attempt to calm her warm cheeks and dopey grin.  “You should go before you’re late- I- I should go before I’m late” She stammers over her words, which is unlike her and more like him.

“Right, yeah,” He nods in a jerky motion as he starts to turn to leave, realizing he was going to have to run now if he wanted to make it on time.  “But I’ll- I’ll see you after? Maybe? Or do you have plans already we can just wait till tomor-” 

“After lessons works” (y/n) agrees.

“Okay- okay, yeah,” He’s still beaming, giddy with excitement now.  “After lessons” He repeats.

(y/n) giggles as she begins to make her way back towards the infirmary, in the opposite direction as him.  She gives him a small wave as she takes off, and Yuuta’s stunned in place for a moment before realizing that his tardiness was going to get him into trouble.

When (y/n) bursts through the infirmary doors with a string of excuses and pink cheeks, Shoko doesn’t say a word.  Not that she has to, her face says it all.

Yuuta is not spared in the same way.  When Gojo asks where he’s been, Panda is happy to supply what- or who- had kept him occupied.  He was teased relentlessly for the following fifteen minutes, but it didn’t bother him too much.  Sure, he was a little awkward at handling it and brushing off their assumptions.  He just hoped his classmates wouldn’t meddle and tell her about it later.

[ just come here and we can settle down ]

If Yuuta ever underestimated anything in his life, it was Gojo Satoru’s joy in meddling.

It’s a few weeks after the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.  Jujutsu High is still under reconstruction, but it’s getting somewhere.  The gardens are being replanted, the courtyard isn’t just a pile of rubbish anymore, and slowly but surely, everyone is healing.

Especially thanks to (y/n), who had mastered her cursed technique.  Just in time too, as there were a lot of people that needed help.

Maki was finally recovering after pushing herself through physical therapy at a rate faster than (y/n) had ever seen in anyone before.  She was more amazed than surprised.  She would never underestimate that young woman’s abilities.

Toge was just starting to use his voice again, despite all of his friends telling him to just keep his mouth shut even if he was speaking in onigiri ingredients.  His sore throat still made his words sound choked and raspy, but he communicated with his friends nonetheless.

There were many other sorcerers that had gotten hurt that night, but just as her friends had, they were recovering, physically and mentally, from that horrible night.

Today the sun was shining.  It was still a chilly January day, but something about the clear skies drew (y/n) to linger on the steps of the main building.  She studied them beneath her boots.  Now that they were clear of snow, it looked as though a different color of stone was selected for their redesign.  Not too different, it was still a light brown, almost like sand, but different enough that the longer she stared at them, the more she could pick out the other differences between these and the old ones.  

“Ditching lessons?” 

Her eyes drag slowly away from the stone steps to see Gojo Satoru scaling them towards her.  His long legs had him next to her in a matter of seconds.  Truthfully, Shoko had said she needed a longer smoke break than usual today- which was only unusual because ever since christmas, she’d been taking longer smoke breaks, she’d only just mentioned it today.

“Not really.  Maybe” (y/n) replied indecisively.

“I’m still a teacher you know,” Gojo laughs at her honesty.  “I could get you in trouble~” 

The grin on his face tells her that there was absolutely no bite to his bark.  He just liked to pretend to be an adult sometimes.  (y/n) gives him a half hearted smile in amusement.  His grin weakens at the way hers drops as soon as she stares down at the stairs again.

He already knows what’s on her mind.  He was a better teacher than even he gave himself credit for.

“So he told you about Africa, huh?” 

Her head shoots back up, brows furrowed in a sad expression as she frowns at him.  

Yeah, he told me about Africa, she thinks, bitterly, even the thought making her mouth go sour.  She gnaws at the inside of her cheek roughly.

“I know you’re close.  I’m sorry that it’s happening,” Gojo sighs.  He stuffs his hands into his pockets.  “Kid’s got real potential.  He might even be stronger than me,” 

Just like his grin, his smirk speaks volumes.  (y/n’s) not sure if he really believes that, but she can tell he believes in Yuuta.

“Special Grade Sorcerers aren’t what they used to be, huh?” He asks, and she’s not sure if it’s rhetorical, so she just shrugs her shoulders, and directs her gaze downwards again.

Her throat burns.  Was that tears? 

“It won’t just be Africa,” Gojo says, slowly, like he’s trying to be careful.  She’s never known him to tread lightly.  He must really worry about her feelings.  She wonders why.  “Once he’s mastered his techniques, the geezers are gonna throw him at every curse they can sniff out” 

“I know” 

Her voice is small, but it holds enough certainty for Gojo to understand that she doesn’t need to be told what Yuuta’s future has in store.

“So,” Gojo takes a different tone as he kicks the toe of his shoe into a step.  “You’re not bothered that he’s a young widow, hm?” 

(y/n’s) face contorts into something strange and confused as she looks at him again.  She could almost laugh, if she wasn’t so disturbed by her teacher prying into her personal life.  She could tell him to buzz off, but it’d make no difference.  He’d probably just pester Shoko for the details and that would be even more embarrassing.

“I don’t even know what to-” 

“He cares about you a lot too,” Gojo says before she can finish.  (y/n’s) features relax as her eyes widen a little.  He looks out into the courtyard as if something interesting was happening over there.  “But Africa will be good for him.  And he’ll be back soon enough.  I’ll try ‘n pull some strings to have him visit, or something” 

Her impulse to say something snarky and get him to move on from the topic disappears.  Instead, she gives him a small nod, before tucking her cold fingers into the pockets of her coat.

“That would be nice,” She tells him, quietly, but surely.  “Thank you” 

Gojo grins from ear to ear as he turns back to his.  She has a feeling that under the white bandages, he’s winking dramatically.

He leaves without another word, leaving (y/n) a little bewildered by the sudden exit.  But then she sees another figure ascending the steps, and suddenly the cold isn’t the only thing making her cheeks pink.

Yuuta gives her the same smile he always does when he crosses her path.  Whether in passing or when he’s meeting up with her to hang out, his lips curl into the warmest smile she’s ever seen.  Even as clouds creep across the sky and snow begins to fall, she starts to feel toasty in her hat and coat.

She lies and tells him she has a few minutes to spare even though she’s been gone from the infirmary for a good twenty minutes now.  As they take a short walk around campus, her mood lightens up.  

They don’t talk about Africa.  Only good things.  A funny meme she’d seen, how Toge will be by the infirmary later because he refuses to keep his mouth shut to heal properly.  Maybe that wasn’t so much of a good thing, but Yuuta is laughing as he tells her about the pile of bloodied tissues accumulated at Toge’s desk.  Despite the twinge of guilt for laughing at their friend’s discomfort, she can’t help it.  Yuuta’s happiness is infectious.

This must be what swooning feels like, she thinks as she stares up at him while he tells her about his day.  It’s a silly story, maybe even kind of boring, but she hangs onto every word with eager anticipation at what he would share next.  He could read her the goddamn newspaper and she’d sit there with her head in her hands and give him her undivided attention.  Yeah, this is probably swooning.

“When do you have to be back?” Yuuta cuts off his rambling about training when he realizes they’ve been walking for some time now.

“Oh,” (y/n) shrugs sheepishly.  “Probably ten minutes ago” 

His eyes widen and he stops in his tracks, and before he even speaks she knows he’s about to apologize for taking up her time, so with a small laugh she shakes her head at him before he says a thing.

“Don’t worry about it,” She says, urging him to keep walking with her.  “Shoko needed some extra time today.  I don’t mind if I’m a little late” 

“You’re sure?” He double checks, because he doesn’t like being responsible for getting her behind schedule.  Nonetheless, he catches up to her as she keeps walking along the path.

Little does he know, if he asked her to ditch the rest of the day with him, she would take him by the hand and sprint off campus.

“Positive” (y/n) replies.

They continue to walk in the snow and talk about anything but Africa.  An unspoken agreement that it could wait.

[ oh darling, it’s alarming, to think of us apart ]

Eventually, they have to talk about Africa.

It comes up the morning Yuuta leaves. 

It’s early enough in the morning that it’s still dark.  Panda had helped him load his bags into Ijichi’s car, before giving him a quick goodbye so he could go back to bed.  Maki and Toge lingered a little longer, even in their pajamas.  But at some point Maki cursed about how early it was, gave her new friend a friendly- but not light- punch to the shoulder, and returned inside.

Toge and (y/n) were equally quiet, although for their different reasons.  Eventually Yuuta couldn’t fill the silence anymore, and they were out of time to stall.

To his surprise, Toge gave him a quick hug.  Just enough to give him a kind pat on the back and an eager ‘salmon!’ certainly wishing him luck on his big assignment.  Yuuta thanked him with a grin, proud to understand what he really meant.

Then he turned to (y/n), who’d barely moved an inch since sleepily walking out here.  He’d insisted to everyone last night that they could say their goodbyes then, but she’d stood her ground that she’d see him off today.  The others agreed.

Her arms were wrapped firmly around herself, and the smile on her face was sad when his eyes met hers.  Even when she tried to brighten up, to properly display her pride in him, she just couldn’t quite do it.

Toge watched as they stared at each other for a moment, neither one of them finding anything to say.  For a minute he thought it might be awkward, and he figured he should probably leave now.  

It only took Yuuta one step forward, his arms barely outstretched, before (y/n’s) finding the energy to leap towards him, crashing into him.  Her arms are thrown around his neck as she hugs him tightly.  As she tucks her chin against his shoulder she’s willing herself not to cry, because she knows it would make him feel bad, and that wouldn’t be fair.  Yuuta’s surprise has him hesitating for a second before he’s hugging her back, hoping to hold on just as securely as she’d latched onto him.

“Text a lot,” When she’s certain her voice won’t crack, (y/n) finally speaks.  “And call, too” 

Yuuta chuckles.  His eyes close as he rests his cheek against her head.  She’s never hugged him before, but he’s decided from this one that she’s the best hugger in the world.

“The time difference is-” 

“I don’t care” She mutters, and it’s punctuated with her arms squeezing around him a little tighter.

He returns the affection.

“Okay” He murmurs.

When they have to part, she lets out a shaky breath, and plasters on the widest smile she can.  She hopes he can see the tears in her eyes.  He does.

He gives her and Toge a wave before finally opening the door to the backseat.  He doesn’t say goodbye.  Instead he settles for, “See you later” 

(y/n) manages a little wave back.  It’s not until the car pulls away and is out of sight before a tear falls.  She’s quick to wipe it away.

Her and the cursed speech user walk back towards the main building together.  He gives her a sympathetic look.  She gives him a weak smile.

“Yeah, I know,” She sighs, drying her eyes once more and taking a deep breath in the hopes of not crying again.

He smiles back, but unlike hers, it’s bright, and cheeky.  He draws a heart in the air with his fingers.  She wants to roll her eyes, but she lets out a watery laugh at the action, and she knows her face is heating up with evidence of the truth.

“Something like that” She mumbles.  They don’t say anything else before parting ways to go back to their rooms.

By the time she collapses back in bed, she’s too awake to think about sleeping a little longer before her lesson with Shoko.  Pulling out her phone for a source of entertainment, she finds she already has a notification at this ungodly hour.

[yuuta] : try not to miss me too much :) i’ll be back before you know it

Tucking the blankets up to her chin, (y/n) settles into bed with a small smile.  Yuuta wasn’t often cheeky.  And when he was, it was always followed by a nervous laugh and bright pink cheeks.  Behind the shield of his phone he clearly has a leap in confidence.  She even laughs a little as she types back her response.

[ you and me, always, forever ]

Yuuta had some mixed feelings about going to Africa.

On the one hand, he was ecstatic.  He had finally climbed the ranks in this new life that he thinks could make everything make sense.  He felt a new sense of responsibility along with his new sense of self, and he knows that this debut of his in Africa was the next big step forwards.  He’d prove himself, he’d push himself, and he’d come home stronger than before.  He’d make his friends, and his teachers, proud of taking a chance on him.

On the other hand, his new purpose, this new sense of self that he was still discovering, felt so much more worth exploring when she was there too.  Yuuta wasn’t as naive as some may make him out to be.  He knew what love felt like.  He recognized that the ticklish feeling in his chest when she laughed, he was familiar with the buzz in his fingertips when she walked too close and her hand brushed over his.  He knows when he’s lying awake at night and she’s the one who crosses his mind that it’s no coincidence.

Yuuta knows that his heart holds much more than platonic regards for one (y/n) (y/l/n).  He knows that he adores her.  He knows that his heart longs for her in a way that couldn’t possibly be platonic.  The fact that they’ll have to be apart for some time makes him sad.  It makes him lonely.

Even now, after seeing her twenty minutes ago when they said their goodbyes, he already missed her.  He couldn’t help but text her right away, the desperation for keeping in contact pumping through him like ice, making him feel wide awake even at five in the morning.  The thought of losing touch over the next few months of him being away makes him sweat.  

He’d have to make sure to keep in touch, he makes a mental plan to always text her first thing in the morning, and last thing before he goes to sleep.  That way, even if he got busy throughout his day, he’d always have the time for her.  He wanted her to know that he’d always make the time for her.

Yuuta’s heart is racing, the adrenaline a toxic mix of excitement and anxiety.  Had he eaten a proper meal this morning he might’ve thrown up.

Just as he’s contemplating rolling down the window for some fresh air, his phone pings.

[(y/n/n)]: i take it you miss me already, yuuta?

It’s a silly little emoji, but he swears she’s sent him her heart in digital form and it leaps right from the screen and into his open palms.  He's smiling at the screen and responding with a reaction image he’d snagged from Toge just a few days ago.

[ you and me, always, forever ]

Gojo follows through on his promise.  Yuuta comes back to Jujutsu Tech for a small break after two months in Africa.

He gets to campus earlier than expected, surprising his classmates in the middle of a lesson.  Luckily today the lesson was rating the different flavors of kikufuku from a new shop Gojo had found, so he hadn’t interrupted anything too pressing.

It’s shortly after his early arrival that he asks the question that his friends think they should have placed money on him asking.  Maki mutters something to Toge about how she would’ve won had they done so.

“Where’s (y/n)?” 

While he stares at them with a dumbfounded expression, his friends laugh.  Loud cackling that’s intended to make him feel embarrassed, but he’s more confused than anything.  Even Gojo joins in once he’s not distracted by his leftover treats and Panda merrily tells their teacher that Yuuta’s already sick of them.

“That’s not it!” The poor boy puts his hands up in mock defense as he jumps to explain himself.  “I just want to tell her I’m back-” 

“She’s in the infirmary, genius” Maki crosses her arms, but her displeased attitude crumbles when a smirk tugs on her lips.  Yuuta forces a smile, but it’s awkward.  His nervous energy begins to shine through his excitement about returning home.

It’s not long after this that he’s delivering a string of excuses before darting out of the classroom and running to the infirmary.  Was it a little embarrassing to race towards her like this? Yeah, but there was barely anyone on campus right now anyways, so no one had to know just how eager he was to see her again.

Even though every bone in his body was practically vibrating by the time he made it there.

He peers through the small windows on the heavy doors outside the hospital classroom, making sure it was safe to enter before he barged in.  As soon as he looks inside he sees Shoko leaning against the cabinets.  (y/n) was standing in front of her, her back to the door, but she was easily recognizable to him.  Before he can knock to make himself known, Shoko catches him in her line of sight, and gives him an uncharacteristically wide grin.

In fact it’s so unusual on her face, that (y/n) perks up in the midst of whatever conversation they were having, curious to see what could've caught her interest so much.

Okkotsu Yuuta was not at all what she might have expected.

He gets to watch her light up in real time.  He hears her excitedly squealing from the other side of the door.  And somehow, even though it’s been a whole two months since he’s seen her, the ten seconds it takes for her to fly through the doors and into his arms seems to take too long.

She crashes into him so hard he stumbles to balance his footing.  She’s laughing and bouncing and rambling on, ‘I’m so happy you’re here! You’re early! I would’ve helped you with your things! Have you settled in? Have you eaten? Should we go get some food? I’ll order food! And we can stay in!’ She’s talking so fast that he catches about half of what she’s saying.  He only chuckles, not having the heart to tell her he can barely understand her.

Her arms squeeze tight around his neck before she finally lets him go.  With twinkling eyes and a smile so wide it must be sore on her cheeks, Yuuta’s slowly melting heart completely dissolves.

“Your hair’s different” She tilts her head at him while she admires the way his slightly longer hair is styled around his face.  She lets her curiosity get the best of her, reaching a hand out to gently push a strand away from his forehead.  

Yuuta hadn’t really given any thought to his hair.  He can’t remember when exactly it had gotten too long, when he’d parted it differently so it wasn’t a hindrance, but now he’s second guessing the change in style as if that change had been a conscious choice.

“Bad different?” 

There’s a small giggle in the back of her throat that she can’t help when his brows furrow at her.  He’s so cute, she thinks her heart could melt right here.

She shakes her head at him in a small motion.

“No,” She assured him.  “Good different” 

A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, a proud little smile, like he’d gotten her to admit her deepest, most well kept secret.

“Good different?” He repeats, his voice dripping with mirth.

She rolls her eyes and crinkles her nose, but there’s no hiding the warmth in her cheeks and the way her dimples show when she smiles, even when she ducks her head from him.

“Shut up, Yuuta,” She pushes his shoulder but just as quickly grabs him by the elbow.  “Now come on! The day’s almost over already and we have so much we need to catch up on!” 

She forgets her bag in the infirmary as they wander campus together for a while, making pitstops to get him unpacked for his short visit and to snack up before they make their simple plans for the evening.  Conversation never ceases, even when she’s trying to place a takeout order over the phone, she finds herself remembering various little stories and jokes that she’d tucked away in her memory to share with him.  

There’s been a change in him.  It wasn’t just the training that treated him well with lean muscle, it wasn’t just the haircut, or the way he’d learned to wield his katana like it was an extension of him.  It was confidence.  It was happiness.  He didn’t stutter over his words nearly as often.  When he spoke he was sure of the things he said.  He would still blush when she got close enough or whispered something exceptionally sweet to him, but he was better at holding eye contact, and grew quite comfortable with reciprocating the small affections.  Maybe that was just it, he was finally comfortable here, and with himself.

Time flies faster than it had when they were apart.  The afternoon turns to evening which turns to the middle of the night.  They’re still sitting on the common room couch, side by side, lost in their own little world as a forgotten movie plays in the background.  Some of it had been watched when they’d eaten, but the takeout boxes on the coffee table are empty now.  Yuuta’s yawning and (y/n’s) eyelids are heavy as she tries to keep her attention on him while he tells a story, his voice getting lower and his words coming out slower the later it gets.  It’s not until he’s slumping into the uncomfortable cushions of the old couch that they even think to check the time.

When they do decide they’ve been up for too long, they make their way sneakily back to their rooms, hoping to remain as silent as possible.  But anyone who was up at this hour would hear their hushed laughter and aggressive shushing.  Yuuta bids her goodnight with the promise of taking everyone out for breakfast in the morning, but before he drops her off at her door, they share one more embrace.

She means to keep it quick, she really does.  She knows he’s tired, and maybe a little annoyed with all of the affection today, but she was so happy to have him back that she couldn’t help but want to keep him close forever.

Yuuta doesn’t seem annoyed in the slightest.  He hugs her back tightly, and makes no move to let her go anytime soon, so she doesn’t, either.  They stand that way at her door for an unknown amount of time, each waiting for the other to pull away first.

It takes some time, but eventually she shuffles out of his hold and gives him a bashful little smile followed by, “I’m really glad you’re home, Yuuta” 

The tension lays itself on thick, making sure to smother Yuuta until the back of his neck feels hot and his heart beats so hard in his chest he’s certain she’s going to notice and tease him for it.

“Me too” He manages to murmur back.  

He’s lucky he’s able to return her sweet ‘goodnight!’ too, because his throat is tightening on itself and he thinks he could start choking just standing there.

When he drags himself back to his own room and his heart calms down- just a little bit- Yuuta decides he’s going to have to do something about that tension before it kills him.

[ you and me, always, forever ]

“This is getting ridiculous,” Maki declares before kicking open the classroom door.  Her two friends follow in behind her.  “It’s actually going to make me sick.  I think we should just say something already” 

“Don’t kick doors down Maki” Panda sighs, but his warning goes ignored.

“Salmon,” Toge shrugs his shoulders, raising his hands to be palms up, as though indicating what else is there to do?

“Well for starters, we get the idiots to talk to each other,” Maki states, picking up the notebook off her usual desk.  

It was the whole reason they came back to class so late in the day, seeing as this particular notebook had the notes from their lesson earlier.  It was important she made the trip back for it before they started their study session.  She did take the better notes of the three of them.

“Apparently all their time together isn’t getting anywhere,” She huffs.  “I swear, all he does is talk about her.  He’s bound to have something good enough to confess already, right?” 

Toge giggles into his collar.

“Ease up a bit, they’ll come around to it when they’re ready, won’t they?” Panda tries to be the voice of reason.  

There’s a pause for silence.  And then Toge and Maki are cackling so hard they have to hold their stomachs to relieve the twisting knots of their muscles.

“It’s been months!” Maki hollers through her mania.

“Salmon!” 

“I mean, how much more of this can you guys take?” She doesn’t give them the time to answer her question.  “I can’t stand listening to him ramble on and on about her.  Did you know the one phone call I got, he talked about her the whole time?” 

“You’ve mentioned” Panda mumbles, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head.

“Tuna tuna” Toge agreed, before making a crude motion with his hands that had Maki bursting into laughter again.

Maki rolls her eyes, before grabbing her missing notebook from her desk and stuffing it into her backpack.  She’d been holding back on intervening on these two for months now.  At first, she didn’t care enough.  If (y/n) and Yuuta wanted to dance around each other like children with crushes then that was their business.  But now the romantic tension was so thick it choked her up to be in a room with them.  The lingering stares, the flirty giggles, the blushing- gah- she couldn’t stand it.

Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t hate love, and she didn’t hate either of them for being in love.  She hated wimps.  And these two were being the wimpiest people she’s ever seen for not fessing up already.

Also, wasn’t she just being a good friend for getting two dumbasses in love to admit they’re in love with each other? She did want them to be together after all, they were good for each other.

“I think it’s sweet that he loves her so much!” Panda argues.  “I don’t mind listening to it.  (y/n’s) really nice.  They deserve each other” 

“Oh, yeah, they deserve each other,” Maki agrees but her tone drips with something hostile.  “No shit, do you not see how much she stares at him?” 

Toge’s snickering gets louder.  It wasn’t often there was gossip among the small group, there wasn’t exactly time for it.  But this was rather entertaining, and watching two of his friends trip over themselves with how hard they’d been crushing on each other had been the cherry on top.

“Well, yeah,” Panda finally lets out a small laugh.  “Actually, the other day I was talking to her, and I don’t think she heard a word I said,” He chuckles as he recalls the way her eyes glazed over and a dopey little smile took over her face.  “I don’t know how he hasn’t noticed it” 

“Salmon” Toge scoffs.

“Yeah, he’s more oblivious than she is” Maki agrees.

“But I don’t think we should do anything about it” Panda tries to reason.

“They’re never going to make a move if we don’t say something,” Maki huffs.  “Can’t they just get it over with already? How hard is a confession anyways?” 

“Like you’ve ever confessed to anyone” Panda throws back at her with a proud grin.

Toge makes a sound of delight to see the gossiping turning into something much more interesting.

Maki glares at the both of them before snarling.

“That’s it!” She declares, throwing her bag over her shoulder.  “I’m going to go tell them right now.  Whoever I find first is going to hear great news today!” 

“Maki don’t!” Panda hollers, marching after her out the door.  “It’s not our place! That’s an invasion of privacy!” 

Toge’s enthusiastic babbling of rice ball ingredients follows them out into the hall, eager to see where this was going to go.

The classroom door slides shut behind him, and the sounds of their heavy, quick footsteps drones on until they’re too far to be heard.  It’s not until the room is completely silent that a small exhale of relief is heard, under the large desk that Gojo pretended to use during his lessons.

“I think we’re in the clear” Yuuta whispers, once he’s absolutely certain that no one is left in the room.

He drops his hand from over (y/n’s) mouth, where she’s been gnawing on her bottom lip for the last six minutes in fear that their classmates were going to notice them hiding under there.

“Really?” She asks in a teasing tone of voice.  “Because it sounds like they’re looking for us” 

Yuuta huffs in defeat, a look on his face that completely contrasts her own.  (y/n’s) brightened, grinning from ear to ear and giggling under her breath.  

They’re squished into the small space so when she giggles he can feel her breath fanning over his neck, and even though he wants to grab her by the shoulders and make her come back to reality- which is that their friends are on a rampage right now to get them to confess to each other, something they’d just done minutes before they’d stormed into this very classroom- but he can’t.  He takes one look at her, with her starry eyes and cute smile and he accepts whatever fate has in store for him.

(y/n) had surprised him here, happily announcing she wrapped up her lessons early so that they could spend the afternoon together.  He only had a few days left until he’d be shipped off to Africa again, so she’d worked diligently today to be sure she could give him every spare minute of her free time.  Somehow they’d wound up in the classroom alone.  

One minute Yuuta’s going on about how excited he was to hang out with her and the next thing he knows he’s accidentally letting it slip that he’d like to have her all to himself all the time.  He realized instantly that he’d said something a little too romantically charged because suddenly she’s staring up at him with those damn wide eyes and a smile full of secrets.

He must’ve said something right though, because one thing led to another and she had an iron grip on his collar while her strawberry gloss smeared all over his mouth.

(y/n) smirks now as she reaches her thumb up to his lips now, wiping away a subtle speck of pink glitter that had been left behind there.  Her face heats up as she recalls how carried away she’d gotten just minutes ago.  Until their friends showed up and nearly caught them in the act.  

Had Maki kicked down that door just a minute earlier, they surely would’ve been caught in their scrambling.  More specifically, they would’ve caught the awkward way Yuuta had lifted (y/n) off the desk he’d just set her on, only to hustle them both under the desk, the only half-decent hiding place in this whole room.

“You’re kidding,” She’d mumbled when he drew his knees to his chest and beckoned her to duck under with him.  She crowds into the space, but not without scolding him.  “They’re definitely going to-” He covers her mouth with his large palm, effectively quieting her, just as the door slams open.

Now she knows they should be scrambling out of here, before they were eventually caught- again- but she stays put in the tiny space where their legs are sore and cramped together.

“So you talk about me to all your friends, hm?” She muses, leaning in impossibly closer to give him her best shit eating grin.  It easily has Yuuta blushing from his neck to his ears as he turns his head to relieve himself from the heavy eye contact.

“Yeah yeah,” He mumbles, tugging at his collar in an attempt to soothe the heat.  Just as the embarrassment settles in, he whips his head back to meet her stare with a wild look in his eye that actually catches her off guard.  “But you’ve been staring at me!” He says.

She opens her mouth to defend herself, but the proof had been hollering in this very room just moments ago during Maki’s fit.  Panda had happily supplied the damn evidence.

So she shuts her mouth, and now Yuuta’s beaming at her with victorious pride.  

“So it’s true!?” He asks excitedly.

“You already know that, jerk,” She rolls her eyes at him, but it’s filled with affection.  “You’re the one who’s in love with me!” She says with a jab to his chest.

Yuuta catches her hand with his before she can pull it away, making her pleased little grin fall to something softer.  He’s able to watch in real time as her eyelashes flutter when her glance darts down to his lips, and when she looks up at him again, it’s with color in her cheeks and a sweetness in her gaze that has him turning to putty.

What was meant to be a half-hearted jest based on something Panda had said that she wasn’t exactly meant to hear now hangs in the air between them so heavy it feels like gravity grows in strength.  Her heart is pounding in her chest.  Her hand feels hot in his.  And now she sits with baited breath and wide eyes as she waits for him to say something.

Yuuta’s smiling, his free hand coming up to the nape of her neck, sweeping her hair away before pulling her closer.  She tilts her head towards him, but he stops just before their lips could graze over one another.

“You love me too?” He whispers.

He phrases it like a question, but he already knows it to be true.  He just wants to hear her say it.

Her lips quirk into a sweet smile as her eyes flicker between his, lashes heavy, pupils blown wide in her irises.  She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and the thought of getting to love her and be loved by her has his heart racing so fast he’s almost forgetting that he’s asked her a question because all he wants is to kiss her.

“Of course I do,” She murmurs, her soft lips ghosting over his, eager to feel them against hers again.  “Think I’ve always loved you, Yuuta,” She adds in a quieter voice.  A carefully protected deep adoration in her heart, now bestowed upon his.  “Think it’s always been you and me” She hums softly, taken away by the warmth in her chest and the butterflies in her tummy.

She could sit here and whisper sweet things to him for hours, maybe even forever.

His thumb strokes under her jaw in a gentle motion, caressing the junction at her jawline and neck.  He looks radiant, smiling down at her like nothing’s ever made him so happy.  This spurs her into wanting to say more sweet things, but before she gets the chance, he’s slanting his lips over hers.

She melts into him in every sense of the word.  Her free hand reaches for his shoulder, before sliding around his neck so she could lean into him further.  The small space they’re still hiding in only shrinks as she tries to get closer to him.  Both pairs of their legs are too long to keep bent under the desk, so she sticks one leg out, accidentally kicking the chair in front of them but she pays it no mind.  She just focuses on getting closer to him, hooking her other leg underneath herself to give her better leverage and a tiny bit more space to scoot closer.

Her hands are on his collar again as soon as he grabs her by the hips.  He gives them a gentle squeeze and she giggles softly into his mouth, breaking their kiss for only a moment.  They share wide smiles and lovesick eyes before leaning into each other again and sealing their lips in a heated and much more passionate kiss.

They don’t think at all about the noise of the chair clattering across the floor or the distinct sound of their giggling as they get swept away with one another.  In fact they completely forget that they’re only in this position because they’d been trying to keep hidden.  Both too consumed with memorizing the feeling of each other’s lips.  

It’s a sweet moment, really, the first time young lovers get to explore the way the other kisses.  Gently, with timid, inexperienced brushes.  Or hungrily, with eager, heated desire.  Taking their time was a luxury they’d thought they could finally afford.

But this time when the door opens it’s with stealth.  It slides in silence, and the steps that creep in are also with slow precision, so as not to make even a creak in the floorboards.

All that can be seen by the three intruders are the three legs jutting out from under the desk.  A familiar pair of Converse and one familiar Mary Jane with a heart shaped buckle kicking gently about on the floorboards, rocking with delight.

The hushed sound of lips smacking only ceased when there was a giggle, one of them or both of them, murmuring between kisses and giggles like a pair of school children.

There’s a few things that are audible, murmurs of ‘I love you so much’ or ‘you’re so pretty’ repeated between them like mantras.  This continues for a minute until one of the three takes a heavier step than he means to with his paw, and the room goes completely silent- save for the lewd ‘smack!’ of a pair of lips seizing upon hearing the tell-tale sign of a lurker.

Maki and Toge glare back at Panda, who sheepishly grins and shrugs his shoulders.

(y/n) and Yuuta stare at each other in horrified shock.  They don’t get the chance to come up with a plan of attack before someone is on top of the desk with a squeak of sneakers.  And then Toge is bending over the surface, staring wide eyes at the two in a rather compromising position- (y/n’s) leg is thrown over Yuuta’s lap and being kept there by a firm hand, her hands are still balled up in his unbuttoned collar, their lips are thoroughly swollen she’s effectively transferred most of her lip gloss onto his mouth, and chin and neck- there’s nothing innocent about them.  Toge stares between them both before he lets out a whistle, giggling as he hops off the desk again.

Yuuta winces as he quickly releases his grip on (y/n’s) leg so they can both scramble out from under the desk and up to their feet.  It’s ungraceful, uncoordinated as they awkwardly untangle to clamber upwards.  Yuuta hits his head on the hard oak loud enough that they both wince, (y/n) quickly inspecting the instant bump that forms at the occiput of his skull.

“No way!” Maki breaks the tension first, her jaw hanging open as she grins in amusement at having caught the two of them here.  “You were hiding out in here the whole time!?”

“Tuna!” Toge shoves his finger in their direction in accusation.

“Kissing!” Panda gasps, his paws over his face.

“Why didn’t you just say something,” Maki huffed.  “Walked around for ten minutes for no reason.  Waste of my time” She grumbles as she crosses her arms.

“Uh, sorry” (y/n) said sheepishly.

“Yeah, sorry,” Yuuta pipes up.  “It was just… uh… awkward” 

“You’re awkward!” Maki barks back with a dismissive wave of her hand.  “Jeez, glad you got it over with finally” She bids them her blessing with rough words before spinning around and leaving the room without saying anything else.

Panda gives them a bright smile and nod of his head, his own friendly way of telling them he was happy for them.

“Hope you’re happy” He tells them out of the kindness of his soul before excusing himself as well.

“Salmon!” Toge agrees with a grin and friendly wave before also leaving.

All the lurking around they’d done, only to give them space as soon as they caught what they needed to.

The remaining pair turned to each other, gaping mouths turning into shy smiles as they slowly burst into laughter together.  What was supposed to be a slow introduction of new feelings to explore had now been on display to pretty much everyone they knew.  Shyness began to wash away as there was no more use for it.  Yuuta reaches for his hand and (y/n’s) fingers intertwined with his as though they’d familiarized themselves there before.  She smiles as he uses her hand to pull her closer to him, until the toes of her shoes barely bump into his.

They don’t say anything, they don’t need to.  (y/n) knows what he means when he cradles her face in his palm and smiles down at her.  He knows what she means when her nose crinkles and her free hand reaches to hold onto his collar once more.  Their ‘i love yous’ had almost always been silent, and they would forever understand it in its unspoken form.

__

this is for @staygoldsquatchling02​ for being excited about my rotting brain full of yuuta fluff a/n: y’all i got soo carried away with this-

xoxo ~ jordie

[daisymbin]

secrets to a furball! - moon junhui

warnings: none!

pairings: moon junhui x reader

genre: a tipsy moon junhui &....a cat

wc: 1k

drunken confessions series

check out my masterlist!

a rowdy night evolved into a night of peaceful quiet as you half carry a very tipsy jun back to your apartment where he’d insisted on coming just to see your cat. “i swear, i just need to say hi to him,” he’d grumbled with a pout as you’d guided him gently inside.

your cat perked up as you settled jun on the couch, its tail flicking lazily as it watched him with mild curiosity. “stay put,” you said softly, trying not to laugh at how adorably determined jun looked. “i’m grabbing you some water and painkillers.”

he nodded, his gaze already focused on your cat with a warm, tipsy smile. you were only gone a few moments, but when you came back to the living room, you stopped just short of the doorway, his familiar murmuring voice reaching your ears. and this time, the words he was saying in mandarin sent a spark of surprise through you.

ever since he’d learned you had a gotten a kitten, jun had taken to talking to the little fluffball in mandarin, laughingly explaining that it was never too early for anyone to learn a second language; even if that someone was a cat. he’d joke about how one day, your cat would probably start meowing back in perfect chinese.

and so, with minghao’s help, you’d secretly been learning mandarin too. you’d told yourself it was just so you could understand what jun was saying to your cat; those playful, soft words that were spoken just for the two of them. but over time, you realized just how much you’d wanted to understand him, not just in language, but in every way possible.

"你知道我有多喜欢她吗?" ("do you know how much i like her?") he asked, his tone barely above a whisper, like he was confessing to your cat something he’d kept hidden from the rest of the world.

your heart skipped a beat. you hadn’t expected anything serious & certainly not this.

your cat blinked, uninterested, but jun continued, undeterred. "我每次看到她," he murmured, "我心真的跳得很快” ("every time I look at her, my heart beats so fast.")

you stilled, holding your breath as he sighed, his words full of a longing he’d never shared with you. it was like he’d poured every ounce of his heart into the drunken confession to this tiny, unimpressed audience of one.

“我喜欢她 喜欢到快要疯了,” ("i like her so much i’m going crazy.") he mumbled, his tone lighthearted but with a hint of something sadder under it, almost like he was trying to laugh off his own confession, whispering it to your cat as if it was some silly secret.

you swallowed, trying to keep your expression neutral as you stepped back into the room and set the water down in front of him. “talking to my cat again?” you asked, slipping into a teasing tone to hide the way your heart was racing.

jun jumped slightly, turning to you with wide eyes and a sheepish laugh. “oh, yeah, just…practicing mandarin with him,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy grin.

“you’re so dedicated,” you replied, smiling as you took a seat beside him. “my cat is very lucky to have you as his teacher.”

jun laughed softly, rubbing his eyes like he was trying to shake off his own embarrassment. “well, he’s a good listener,” he joked, glancing away as if trying to hide his own vulnerability. “doesn’t judge me… or my silly, terrible secrets.”

"oh?” you murmured, tilting your head. “and what kind of secrets would you be telling him?"

he stiffened, his fingers stilling mid-scratch on the cat’s head. "just… silly…terrible…things. nothing important." he repeated, not letting up.

but the way he avoided your gaze, the way his hand trembled just slightly, told you otherwise.

“you know, jun,” you said softly, your gaze fixed on him, “sometimes it’s easier to tell a friend than a cat.”

his gaze flickered to yours, a hint of hope mingling with the apprehension in his eyes. he swallowed, his throat bobbing as he seemed to consider it, his usual playful confidence nowhere to be found.

“i just…” he trailed off, his voice so quiet it was almost lost in the room’s stillness. “i guess I'm just scared.”

“if I tell you a secret, will you tell me yourself what you told my cat?”

“that depends on if your secret holds the same value as mine,” he laughed, “what if you tell me a silly secret like….you just farted or something?”

it's always so easy with jun, laughing like this at midnight, “no i didnt just fart you dork! my secret is that....i've been learning mandarin from minghao for the past 8 months....& that i also heard what you said to my cat.”

he froze, the color draining from his face as realization dawned. his mouth opened slightly before closing again, his gaze shifting as he processed your words. slowly, he met your eyes, the unspoken confession hanging between you.

“you heard all of that?” he whispered, his face a mix of shock and something else, something deeper.

“i did,” you said softly, leaning closer. “& if you asked me, I don't think your secret is silly or terrible at all.”

jun blinked, a slow smile breaking through his shock as he processed your words, the last of his shyness melted away. “you really think so?” he asked as he reached for your hand, his fingers warm and tentative as they curled around yours. “if your secret is silly & terrible, then mine is too.”

[thatoneyanderewriter]

Deception

pairing: yandere!coriolanus snow x everdeen!reader

summary: it’s the things we love the most that destroy us.

warnings: yandere behavior, stalking, implied murder, violence, delusion, possessive!snow(as in VERY possessive) unhealthy relationships, superiority complex, narcissistic tendencies.

a/n: I love Lucy gray okay? but she didn’t exist in this! Just for the plot btw. also more yandere tbosas characters to come!

Coriolanus liked to think that he was always on top. Snows were, after all, very prominent. That was what was keeping him going in life. His name.

This mentorship would be the key to his future. He had already decided he wanted to be the President of Panem, another way for him to gain control.

He first notices you at the reaping. Not physically. But it’s programmed live, so everyone could see. You stood out. Maybe not on purpose, but to him you did.

“District 12 Girl is Y/N Everdeen.”

The Mayor looked smug. You look over to a smug redhead. He wondered what past you shared with her. And you stood tall and confident. You kept your expression the same as you walk.

The redhead screamed, as the mayor called for help. That was revenge. But you didn’t do anything else, as you stood, the Mayor slapped you so hard you were off of your knees.

But you made no reaction as you stood back up, giving the mayor a warm smile as he was taken away. This was your opportunity, sure. You went over to the mic simply said,”Thank you, hope you enjoyed the show!”

Stepping back, You bowed, and added,”I hope you’ll enjoy my show just as much as I do!” You acted as if the audience was cheering, but it was silence.

The Peacekeepers shove you inside as Jessup is announced as the District 12 Male. You shake hands and that’s one of the last moments of the reaping he sees of you.

To be honest, receiving District 12 was a slap to the face. It was the small, joke district. It was clear Dean Highbottom had something against him, giving it to him on purpose.

In fairness, Coriolanus had made fun of him with friends behind his back, but still. It wasn’t fair. His petty resentment shouldn’t intertwine with his work.

But, you had some sort of gift. One he’d use to his advantage when it came to winning the games. And clearly, people liked you.

“I’ll have to admit, Coriolanus, you’ve gotten lucky, His fellow classmate, Hilarius teased. “I have, He replied proudly, having placed his plate next to Clemensia, He spots pie and immediately goes after it.

He hadn’t had Apple Pie in quite some time. The thought of it made his stomach growl. When all of a sudden, Dean Highbottom placed a bogger slice on his plate.”Oh, take a big one. Growing boy like you can handle it.”

Coriolanus grins at him. Thank you, sir. I can always find room for pie.” The Dean responds, “Yes, pleasures are never hard to accommodate, No one would know better than I.”

He never liked Dean Highbottom. He probably only had his position due to his fame of creating the hunger games.

The conversation sent chills down Coriolanus’ spine when Dean Highbottom spoke the words,”Look at you, in your makeshift shirt and your too-tight shoes, trying to hold it together. Strutting around the Capitol, when I doubt the Snows have a pot to piss in. Even with a prize, it would be a stretch, and you don’t yet have one, do you? What then, I wonder, would happen to you? What then?”

The next morning, Coriolanus stood at the Train Station. After hearing about the arrival of the tributes, he felt it was best to see you personally. A start that most hadn’t jumped to.

This made him feel more confident. And in his hand was a white rose, one from his grandmother’s garden. It was Tigris who suggested bringing a gift. And his cousin was never wrong, most of the time at least.

The train was a bit late but when you arrived, didn’t run per se, but rushed over to you, rose in hand. “Welcome to the Capitol, He greeted you.

You look up at him.”You shouldn’t be here, well, you don’t look like you do.” “I probably shouldn’t, He admits. You laugh a little, but aren’t scared. You don’t trust him right away of course.

“So then, What’s a Capitol boy like you doing around here? You ask, eyeing his clothing. “I’m your mentor, He said.”And I wanted to know you without the Capitol.”

“Hm, a rebel, You teased, taking the rose from him.”Does everyone have a mentor?” “Yes, but the others are waiting I suppose, He winked.

Coriolanus was intrigued. You were a bit more bold and confident than he expected. But the reaping showed a little bit of that.

“What does my mentor do besides bringing roses? You joke. “I do my best to take care of you, He said.”Coriolanus Snow.”

“I’m sure, if you’re my mentor, you know my name, but I like yours, You compliment.”And good luck, by the way. A lot of people don’t like me. Might try to kill you too.”

It was a clear joke, but Coriolanus was still puzzled. How could anyone hate you? You weren’t dangerous by any means, and the confidence you had became attractive to him, almost.

You expect to go on by yourself, but Coriolanus joins beside you, being shoved into the platform. He did so much for you, and maybe you should’ve done more. Then, you saved his life. Out of oath and a sense of guilt. And the fact you wanted to help people, not do the opposite.

Eventually, The games ended. And while Coriolanus was certainly relieved. Dean Highbottom found out about his little favor to help you win.

He just had to see you one last time. To say that he had grown infatuated was an understatement. You just were very charming, and sweet. Naive, even. Maybe not from your eyes, but his? Definitely.

“Are you okay? You ask.”You seemed urgent when you asked to meet up.” It was secret, just like your relationship.

“They’re punishing me, He said.”I don’t know if I’ll see you again. I cheated to help you win.” “I would’ve done the same, Coryo, You remind him.”Besides, I owe you. What’s your punishment?”

He could either lie, or tell you the truth. See, he always felt like you needed to be saved by him. He was superior, in a way. Of course he loved you, but he wanted to protect you too.

“I’m going to be a Peacekeeper for 20 years, He admits.”Protocol, but at least I won’t suffer humiliation.”

You chuckle.”I know, Coryo. I’d rather suffer humiliation than be a Peacekeeper. Will I see you again?” He replied,”I don’t know.”

But when you kiss him, it feel incredible. You loved him so. And from your eyes, he loved you too, yet it didn’t change your confidence and boldness.

He was well aware that you would’ve stood up for what’s right. You were an Everdeen. A family of that, according to you.

But truthfully, he insisted on district 12. “Well, they’re sending me back too, Coryo, You tell him.”Might pick up on more jobs to survive.”

He kissed you roughly one last time. Even though he was sure he’d see you again. Maybe without your knowledge.

When you came home, you did as you said. You picked up on more jobs. And when he first was there began following you, more like stalking you, but he was protective of you, his girl, he’d say to himself.

He didn’t want anyone else to have you. And he knew his silly infatuation became an Obsession. But this wasn’t new. Not in the slightest.

You began singing a little at the Hob, alongside the Covey, a group of musicians. You didn’t sing too much, he notices.

But when you did sing, you sang beautifully. You always sang what you felt. And he admired it. One night, however, you noticed him. But made a small reaction, turning back to the song.

When you ended, you rushed over.”Coryo. Didn’t expect to see you here.” “Surprised? He teased. “A little, You admit.”But, I knew you would. It wasn’t too much of a surprise. Nice buzz cut.”

He laughed, your fingers brushing over his shaved head. He’d miss his curls, but they’d return. “Where’s Sejanus? You ask.

You find him within the crowd, and start up a conversation. However, the night ends with you and Coriolanus, like how he wanted.

His ever growing possessiveness for you was showing a little, his grip on your hand was strong. You didn’t care, though. Not at first. You might not see him again. Or rarely.

Your judgement was clouded by the feeling of Love. A feeling many experience at your age. “Y/N, A voice said drunkenly.

You turn, annoyance in your tone.”What? I know exactly why you’re here.” Your former lover, well, truthfully, a one-sided crush at that. He just thought you were lovers.

He'd believe Mayfair over you, on a lie. that was it for you. “Come on, I miss what we had! He whines. “As if it was anything special, You scoffed.”See, if you hadn’t believed that redhead, it would’ve been just fine. She tried to kill me!”

Coriolanus wouldn’t admit it, at least to you, but he was fuming. His jaw clenched, and obvious signs of frustration. You soothe him, or try to. “Coryo, he’s an idiot, You say, assuringly.

“Ah, your new victim? Your former friend said jokingly, but anger in his voice.”She’s just using you, like with me.”

And that seemed to be it. You could only watch as his fists landed on his face. Stumbling back, he groans.”What the-“ Coriolanus wasn’t done. Now relying on his anger, jealousy, and bloodlust. He punched his jaw, so badly that by the time he was done, which was after a few times, his knuckles were bleeding, and blood landed on him.

Clearly, he was good as dead. This was a side you hadn’t seen before. But nonetheless, You couldn’t react. “Coryo… You could only say. And as he looks up, he hugs you, a bit more passionately than usual.

“You were never here. Go. I can handle it.”

You decide on listening. He wasn’t even really suggesting, but rather ordering. And you didn’t want to stay a moment longer.

Truthfully, He felt a sense of power, and control when he was punching him. You were his, not your former friend’s. He had to make sure of that.

It was a swift process, he had killed before, technically having no other choice but still, he was worried you wouldn’t forgive him. Or tell someone. That would ruin his future.

Of course, it didn’t mean he regretted doing so. He loved the feeling he got. The violence itself he enjoyed. And the way he spoke of you, it was justified. He shouldn’t have talked to you like that.

“Coryo, are you alright?”

Hearing your voice, his head spins. Your voice was like a bell to him. “I’m fine, are you? He hurt you? Coriolanus asked in response.

You shake your head.”He’s done this before. He may have hurt me once, but not again.” It was stupid, in your eyes. It wasn’t like he was a lover of yours, just your best friend. You thought he’d choose you over Mayfair, who clearly had her eyes on him.

Which wouldn’t be a problem, if she wasn’t a bitch. “As long as I’m here, Nobody will hurt you, Coriolanus assured you. You smile.”I know. And that’s why I love you, Coryo. Always there for me. I owe you big time.”

You owed him, and he’d never let you forget that. You belonged to him, and nobody else. You better remember that.

[cassatelle]

Day 5 of @bucktommypositivityweek: outsider perspective 1128 words Rating: General Audience Tags: Fluff, Soft, Coming Out, Referenced/Implied Homophobia

The sound of the doorbell jingling broke the quiet of the nearly empty restaurant. Debbie glanced up from her spot behind the counter; it was him again.

It was hard to believe it had been two years since he first stumbled in, looking like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. She remembered that night clearly. The clock was nearing closing time, and Debbie had been lingering by the counter, dreading the inevitable task of throwing away the uneaten food she’d so carefully prepared. The place had been too quiet, too empty, and her heart had been just as hollow. He really missed his husband on the days like this.

Then, he’d walked in, all exhausted, asking if it was too late to order, mumbling about not having the energy to cook. His words had been tentative, almost apologetic, as if he was expecting to be turned away. Debbie had told him it was no problem at all. Though the truth was, she hadn’t even closed yet because there hadn’t been enough customers to justify it. She’d packed his order with trembling hands, filling the container with a far larger portion than he’d asked for. 

Since then, he’d become a regular, showing up almost everyday—some days at the weirdest time, late in the evening or early in the morning— with occasional absences for a few days of the week. He’d always arrived with a smile, though the tiredness still clung to him like a shadow. He’d ask her how she was, how business was going. One evening, she unconsciously referred herself as Tía. Then, on a whim, she started to call him Sobrino. To her delight, he kept coming, as if he didn’t mind the name she threw. She took it as a consent.

It wasn’t until he showed up in his firefighter uniform, soot-streaked and weary, that she finally understood why he skipped those few days. He’d explained it with a tired smile, mentioning his overnight shifts. And from then on, she’d made a habit of giving him even bigger portions, claiming it was her way of thanking him for his service. In truth, she simply liked him—liked the way he brought a bit of life into her otherwise boring routine. Sometimes, she’d keep the shop open until midnight or flip the close/open sign a few hours before she was supposed to, just in case he had another late or early finish and needed a warm meal to end his day.

He always came alone, ordering one portion with the same polite smile. She’d tease him sometimes, asking him to bring his girlfriend, promising to throw in an extra shrimp. He’d only smiled in response, never giving much away.

But lately, there has been a change. His tired face had started to light up more, his eyes brighter than she’d ever seen them, his steps lighter. She’d caught him laughing at his phone once, and another time, he walked in wearing a new scent. Then, one evening, he started ordering two portions, or began asking her to add or exclude certain ingredients. And that's how she knew he had a girlfriend.

Tonight, as she prepared his order, she couldn’t help but mention it. “You seem really happy these days, pequeño,” she said, her hands moving with practiced ease as she assembled his meal.

He chuckled. “Yeah, things have been good, Tía. How’s the restaurant today?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Eh, my story can wait. So, who’s this lucky woman, hm?”

His reaction was not what she expected. Instead of the shy smile or fidgeting she’d imagined, he seemed taken aback, face unreadable for a moment. Debbie almost apologized, thinking she’d overstepped, but then he smiled, a little weakly. “Uh, it’s a man, actually. I have a boyfriend. Not that he’s lucky to be dating me or anything, but yeah… a boyfriend.” He looked at her cautiously, guiltily. “Is that… okay… Tía?” he added, it took her a moment to realize why.

For a brief second Debbie could see the hurt on his eyes. She wondered what could have happened to turn the brave, cheerful boy she knew into a frightened, cornered mouse. Whatever it was, she felt bad for bringing that memory back.

She blinked, collecting herself quickly. “Ay, of course! Men, women, no different. Love is love, no?”

His usual big, crinkly-eyed smile returned, and with it, the warmth she’d come to expect.

“So that’s why you so happy? Must be nice having a boyfriend, eh?” she teased lightly.

He let out a laugh, a genuine sound that made her smile in return. “Yeah, it is, honestly. I haven’t been dating for so long and it’s... it’s really great. He's really great.”

Debbie gave him a big smile. “You should keep him, then.”

“I’m planning to,” his whole face softened, glowed.

Debbie handed him the food and gently patted the back of his hand. “Tonight’s on me, as a celebration. And I’m serious—it’s fine, I’ve had enough customers today,” she quickly added, seeing the protest forming on his lips. “I’m happy for you, mijo.”

“Thank you, Tía.” He paused, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You should get a boyfriend too.”

She clicked her tongue, playful. “My husband’s ghost will come to me if I dare to find another man.”

The day finally came. He walked in as usual, but this time hand-in-hand with a tall, handsome blonde man.

Before she could greet them, the blonde man flashed a grin and spoke up, “Hola, Tía, me llamo Buck. Uh... or, Evan. Well, Tommy calls me Evan, you can call me whatever you like.” but before Debbie could respond, he continued, “Did I say it wrong, Tía? My friend told me that. Please, tell me if that’s wrong and I will kick his ass.”

Debbie burst into laughter. “That’s really good. And mo kicking ass, please.” She then turned her gaze to him—the regular, Tommy, apparently. Funny how she learned his name from his boyfriend instead, after two years exchanging conversation. “So this is the one making you so smiley, eh?” She gave him a teasing look.

Tommy simply smiled, cheeks a little pink. 

But Buck, clearly enjoying the moment, wasn’t going to let it slide. “Aww, do I? Do I make you so smiley, Tommy?”

Tommy grinned, titling his head slightly before admitting, “You do.”

Debbie, not wanting to interrupt but knowing they came for the food, clapped her hands together. “Bueno, can I take your order now? You two can continue your lovey-dovey over the seat there.”

They both chuckled. “Sorry, Tía. And yes, the usual please.”

“One spicy, one not spicy?”

“Perfect,” Tommy confirmed with a nod. Then, he raised an eyebrow playfully, “And please don’t forget our extra shrimp.”

[ozzgin]

Baki Characters x Yandere! Reader Headcanons (I)

The roles have flipped! Featuring Baki Hanma, Yuujirou Hanma, Kaiou Retsu, Pickle.

[Baki Masterlist]

Baki Hanma

You pace around your room, furiously biting your nails. You heard the girls at school teasing Kozue about confessing her feelings for Baki already and her laughing it off. The nerve, the audacity! As if you’d ever allow such nonsense to unfold. With your gaze fixated into the mirror, you notice the damage you’ve done to your fingers.

You’ve been Baki’s best friend for the longest time, and you’ve been to every underground fight to support him. You understand his quest for revenge and do your best to motivate him everyday. You scoff again at the little conversation you’ve unwillingly witnessed. To talk about feelings when you don’t even know the person fully. It’s fine, you don’t mind. Should you take care of her? No, she’s a neighbor. Too obvious. You don’t mind, anyways. You stare at the cooking knives before closing the kitchen drawer with a loud thud. You just have to confess first.

Baki is just really excited and surprised to have a girlfriend, especially if it’s you. He’s always found you attractive, but he wouldn’t risk ruining the perfect friendship you have. And now you’ve just taken all of his worries away, in the most unexpected turn. You hug him and you can feel your shoulders droop, as if a massive weight has just been lifted. You can finally rest.

Yuujirou is the first one to congratulate his son for finding himself a proper woman. He’d been wondering if Baki was too much of an idiot, since he hadn’t asked you out already. You have to hold the young boy back, whispering soft words to calm him down under the Ogre’s resounding laugh. Though you can’t help the grin that’s creeping on your face. Damn right. No one else will love him as much as you do. You’ll make sure of it.

In the Underground Arena, everything is permitted and there are no rules. This stands true outside the ring, so it’s not uncommon for fighters to try for a rematch out of the audience’s eyes. Baki has always been a bit disappointed by his rare ambushers. He would’ve liked a spontaneous fight every now and then. Unfortunately, you have your girlfriend duties. You can’t let scoundrels potentially mess with his training. Baki might be honorable enough to only rely on his fists and strength, but you’re not. And based on your count, you’d say you’re pretty creative when it comes to weaponry.

Hanayama has witnessed your ruthlessness first hand (and had to help with the body disposal), so every now and then he’ll pat Baki on the shoulder and remind him to be thankful for his woman and never upset her. Baki always responds with a clueless laugh. Of course he’s grateful for his darling (Y/N). He couldn’t ask for a sweeter girlfriend, and he finds it downright adorable how you stare down his opponents. He’ll tell you to be careful, because the men here can be very dangerous. Your reassuring smile makes his heart melt.

Yuujirou Hanma

Not another crazy bitch; He’s already had to deal with Emi Akezawa. This would most likely cross Yuujirou’s mind if he actually knew about your unhealthy crush, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know of your walls plastered with his photos, or the videos you’ve taken of his fights in order to memorize the smallest details in his technique. What he sees is your distracted, indifferent expression whenever you happen to cross paths in the underground arena.

In fact, he might even be slightly annoyed by your complete lack of interest. You seem to praise all the other fighters after their win, yet your compliments fail to reach the strongest of them all. He wouldn’t mind, of course, if he knew you’re just terrified of him (as most people are), but he can tell you lack any kind of nervousness towards him. What’s up with you?

In a moment of anger he faces you and is about to deliver his signature devastating blow, against the gasps of protest from the passerby. His eyes widen in shock after realizing, however, that you easily dodged it. He didn’t expect you to be this good of a fighter. And you aren’t, really. He’s just predictable. Maybe not to the average person out there, but you could guess with your eyes closed what his next move is going to be. Depending on his mood, the person he’s facing, his facial expression, the slight tilt of the foot onto the pavement, the smallest contraction of his deltoid muscle that indicates the arm about to swing. You doubt you could win against the Ogre, but you certainly know his fighting style better that anyone else.

Once you start dating, Yuujirou becomes completely infatuated with you. The fact that you know him so well can only mean you’ve been watching him, and that pleases him greatly. Though he’s maybe a little embarrassed to admit he was this concerned about you noticing him.

You mainly show your affection through acts of service. Yuujirou most definitely doesn’t need you to protect him, but if small fry approach him you’d rather spare him the boring attempts to a challenge. You’ll stand in front of him and announce that weaklings need to get past you first and no one should dare to waste your man’s time otherwise. Yuujirou is very amused by this and his ego skyrockets. If the opponent is someone you can’t handle, he’ll gently move you out of the way and thank you. “It’s alright, I haven’t worked out in a while. This should only take a moment.”

Sometimes he may catch a glimpse of your unhinged jealousy whenever another woman approaches him and he’ll instantly be turned on by your bloodlust. He could have anyone else in the world, but why settle for just anyone when there’s you?

Kaiou Retsu

You’ve been mesmerized by the martial artist ever since you’ve witnessed his fights in the Underground Tournament. After he lost to Baki, you couldn’t help but wait for him at the exit and express your deepest admiration with a bow to the ground. Retsu was speechless but equally grateful for your kind words. A renewed sense of pride erupted from his chest, knowing he’s won someone’s appreciation for Chinese Kenpo.

Right…well, why not? You don’t mind starting off as his biggest supporter. You’re good at gathering information. To Retsu’s excitement, you always meet him with a brand new question about a particular technique or historical fact check. He’s eager to tell you all about his past and time spent at the temple. He’s so lost in his stories that he doesn’t notice your dark orbs that remain still in his direction, unperturbed by any movement or blinking.

Retsu’s obliviousness is a running joke among the fighters. Katsumi finds great enjoyment placing bets on whether the Kenpo master will ever notice that the woman that’s always by his side might be in love with him. You laugh along, not minding the humor. Where’s the hurry? You like his innocence, among many other things. It’s not like you have to worry about competition. You’re rather confident you can get rid of anything that might serve as an obstacle.

Some days are harder than others, however, when it comes to hiding your feelings. Despite your repeated protests, Retsu insisted on fighting this recently revived prehistoric man. You felt yourself spiraling the moment you heard the wet gnawing sound of his lower limb detaching. Pickle had begun dragging him into the halls to continue his feeding routine. Your ears began to ring and before you could ponder the situation, you found yourself between the same walls. Pickle could only stare in amazement at your wild, rabid expression as you sank your teeth into his arm. For a brief moment he felt like he was gazing at his own reflection, the same ferocious eyes filled with nothing but instinct to act.

Retsu awakes groggily and spots you sitting stiff at the end of his bed. Your face looks slightly smudged, but he’s still too dazed to tell. You fumble with the bloodied cloth in your lap and ask if he’s feeling better. He’s ashamed of his broken promise, confessing to you he might’ve not been prepared to die. Poor, honest Retsu. No matter his intended outcome, you would’ve never allowed it. You might be selfish for it, but your love for him comes before any kind of battle honor. You weave his long, silk hair through your fingers. Your teeth are still sore and you chuckle lightly. He really brings out the worst in you.

You hoped you wouldn’t encounter Pickle again, but here you are in the empty audience seating, standing between Hanayama and Retsu and looking down towards the young Hanma. Pickle seems to study your form with a curious smirk. “Why is he looking at you like that? Did something happen during my… I hope you weren’t-“ Retsu’s voice is choked by growing panic as he recalls the TV reporter. “It’s nothing like that, Retsu-san. He’s teasing me.” You shyly hold onto his hand and he flinches at the sudden touch. What was this smug creature hinting at? Some sort of unspoken acknowledgement perhaps, from one predator to another.

Pickle

You don’t watch TV and you don’t care for the news. And yet it just so happened that at the time you were mindlessly browsing through channels, you landed on the latest announcement concerning the prehistoric human. Your watched as the poor reporter trashed around for help before the live was interrupted. You felt your eyes tearing up; you had forgotten to blink.

You can’t focus on anything else. It can’t be random coincidence, just some mere stochastic chance that you were made aware of this ancient individual. You dare to dream of the possible meanings and implications. Perhaps the best answer will be offered upon meeting the man himself, and you happen to have the right friends for it.

When Baki mentions to you, entertained, that a bunch of men managed to sneak into Pickle’s enclosure, you can feel your jaw clenching and your teeth grating under the sudden pressure. You were supposed to meet him first. They don’t deserve it. You impatiently begin planning your own forced entry, if needed.

Pickle lowers himself over Retsu’s unconscious body, ready to devour him, but his ears pick up the rapid approach of another human. Could it be a new challenger? He quickly turns his head and locks his eyes with yours. You’re panting and gasping, trying to refill your lungs with oxygen after sprinting all the way to the arena. You almost got tricked once again into missing your fateful encounter, given the secrecy of this fight. No matter, you’re here now. A wide smile of pure adoration forms on your face. Pickle is taken aback, unsure of how to read your expression.

The Jurassic man is spellbound by the little human that’s now following him around. You easily communicate with the other humans and even though he can’t return the same speech, you seem to know what he wants or needs. The strange smelling chloroform clouds that would make him very sleepy have now vanished, together with the men holding the equally strange tools always pointed at him. He doesn’t know what you’ve done, but he’s very grateful to have a little peace. You’re his bridge to this modern, confusing world.

They can’t decide what’s scarier between Pickle and (Y/N) in their overly protective anger. Pickle himself couldn’t be more delighted. He finds it incredibly cute that despite your size, you always jump to his help. Sometimes he’ll even pretend to be confused just to see your determined face as you do the task for him. He wonders if other people also have their own (Y/N) at home, though he suspects he’s the only lucky one.

[idontknowreallywhy]

Shine

This little scene arose out of a discussion with @edutainer2022 about a headcanon we share re the boys’ Mom and this lovely fic.

Fluff, with the tiniest glimmer of sad (only just because I love her but she’s no longer with them).

Featuring tiny feral toddler Scotty and a very much besotted husband 💙🤍💕

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

The speaker paused, her eyes twinkling as they always did when she knew the punchline and couldn’t wait to tell it. She completed the joke to an appreciative roar of laughter, a smattering of applause and one enthusiastic whoop.

Jeff wasn’t convinced that more than 50% of the room could actually have entirely got it… niche was an understatement. She’d had to explain several recent controversies from the world of experimental astrophysics to him last night before he appreciated that that particular part of the twelfth rewrite of her speech was actually funny on three different levels… but it didn’t matter.

You didn’t have to be married to this woman to know she could read out a grocery list and carry the adoring audience along with her. There was a reason it was the keynote after all.

She’d been so nervous. Same as she was before every paper she’d presented in all the time he’d known her. She’d agonised over the content of every class she’d given, no matter how small. He’d watched her pace the floor for a fortnight, glaring at her tablet in between bouts of frantic typing and clutching at her increasingly wild hair as she growled “WHY ME?” at the ceiling.

“Because you’re brilliant and they love you.”

This had become Jeff’s habitual refrain as he multitasked to perfection - simultaneously reassuring his wife while retrieving their tiny son from the top of the bookcase, the window ledge or, on one notable occasion which thankfully she still knew nothing of - inside the fridge.

She’d huff, never believing him. And yet, as he presumed was the case every time, as soon as she started speaking she relaxed.

And she shone.

Dr Lucille Tracy hadn’t taken the guest lectureship with much thought to the actual ‘lecturing’ part of it at all. That was just the quid pro quo. The offer of a close collaboration with those at the cutting edge of her field, the unparalleled opportunity to continue her research with the help of the brightest young minds - it should have been a no-brainer.

In the ordinary circumstances of their life, however, it would have been far too much alongside the remote but demanding day job at NASA, the all-day-and-most-of-the-night job raising a toddler whirlwind and the exhausting 24/7 secret mission of growing his sibling.

Jeff melted a little more as the love of his life shifted her stance behind the lecturn and ran a hand absently over the rapidly increasing bump. Alright, so they were probably long past the covert stage of that one now… she complained she was heavy and slow but was overtly glowing with life.

Again, Jeff thanked the stars she loved so much (and which she absolutely refused to countenance having any impact on their luck whatsoever don’t be ridiculous, Jefferson) that he’d had a well-timed hiatus in missions necessitated by the development and testing of the longer range craft that would hopefully carry him on the next one. He’d taken some rather belated paternity leave and insisted she take up the offer. And here they were.

And she was good at it. Very good.

Jeff had done public speaking training both at college and for work and he knew every trick in the book. But there were things that couldn’t be taught. Some things weren’t tricks after all.

He got the respect, sometimes a little awe from the younger ones. People followed Jeff because they respected him, because he spoke persuasively and, well, because he told them to. They hung on Lucy’s every word because her natural warmth and playfulness drew them in and the fact she seemed somehow to care deeply for each of them meant they stayed. That what she said was brilliant was almost secondary. The fact they happened to be learning from the best was a by-product. People just wanted to be near her.

It was the very reason he’d walked straight past his usual table in the NASA cafeteria that day, and found himself sat amongst a group of strangers listening to her tell some story about a cat in the observatory… or possibly it was a raccoon… he forgot the details but it didn’t matter. He was caught in her orbit and hadn’t regretted it for a second.

Despite the fact this wasn’t even a lecture, only a welcoming speech and that frankly they’d listen to and love any old thing she could come up with - Lucy redrafted and redrafted right up to the last minute, searching for the perfection she felt she owed them. Jeff, more of a rock up and wing it kind of guy, was occasionally exasperated but couldn’t ever convince her it was good enough to leave well alone.

He’d finally persuaded her to grab a couple of hours sleep when Scott had scaled his patently falsely marketed ‘unclimbable toddler gate’ and leaped into bed between the two of them. The kid even wriggled in his sleep. Jeff supposed they should be thankful the tiny flailing elbow hadn’t given her a black eye for her big day.

Their son squealed and bounced excitedly in his Dada’s arms and pointed up at Mommy’s face smiling down at them from the enormous screen and then at the smaller 3D figure on the stage. Jeff knew he shouldn’t really have brought him, but both sets of grandparents had been unavailable and Lee had looked frankly terrified at the prospect of solo responsibility for preventing young ‘Steve’ from leaping off high objects. There were some things you just didn’t inflict on your wingman. He redirected the little guy’s kicking feet from the poor chap in the next seat and helped them find the ground but kept a firm grip on his shoulders

“I know, Scotty, she’s wonderful isn’t she?” He murmured. “But we have to be quiet so everyone can hear her ok?”

The little boy nodded seriously and stood, jiggling quietly between Jeff’s knees, his rapt attention on the screen, his little fists opening and closing by his sides.

Jeff had lost the thread of the speech for a moment, he already knew it so well he hadn’t really been listening to the words as much as the cadence of her voice.

Clearly everyone else had though, as a sudden swell of chattering indicated they were following her instruction to spend five minutes discussing some particular point with their neighbour. It was a cunning ploy to give her chance to take a breath, a swig of water and to check through her mostly abandoned notes to ensure she hadn’t missed anything important.

Jeff bent to help Scott retrieve the multitude of brightly coloured plastic aircraft scattered across the floor in front of them before they became a trip hazard. At least their seats at the far end of the front row meant there was plenty of room for a little chaos.

An elderly gentleman tapped him on the shoulder, a look of expectation on his face and Jeff raced to remember what the prompt had actually been about. He failed, but scrabbled to introduce himself anyway, basking a little in the spark of recognition at the surname and the fact that in this crowd it was his connection to Her that merited it, rather than the minor NASA-specific fame that was attached to anyone who’d spent serious time on Alfie.

He smiled encouragingly as his neighbour launched into an excitable tirade about gamma ray bursts and wondered how far through the five minute break they were. Maybe he should take the opportunity to sneak one of Scotty’s snacks out of the small bag stashed under his chair. As soon as there was a decent gap in this chap’s monologue he’d apologise and…

The atmosphere suddenly changed as the hundreds of conversations shifted in tone from academic to amused with a heavy smattering of “awwwww!” The garrulous gamma enthusiast stopped and looked up and Jeff seized his moment, grabbing a cereal bar with his left hand and reaching for his son with the other.

The right hand closed on air.

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh he had messed up so very, very badly.

Reluctantly lifting his eyes to the only raised object in the room he was just in time to see the curly-haired Houdini complete his speed-toddle across the huge stage and leap into the arms of his crouching Mommy, who looked up and raised a mildly exasperated eyebrow in the direction of his guilt-ridden but helpless father.

He went to stand and approach the front of stage to retrieve his wayward offspring but she shook her head ever so slightly and stood up, hefting Scott a little higher so that his little legs straddled her swollen belly and turned back to the podium.

“I’d like to introduce you all, in person, to my most devoted research assistant. Some of you may remember him from such video conferences as “the one where the laptop learned to fly”, or “the one with the high pitched screaming” and not forgetting my personal favourite “the one with the minor explosion”… say hello to the nice astrophysicists, Scotty.”

There was more laughter, applause and a few more enthusiastic whoops. One of those might have been Jeff.

Scott, who had been making a grab for the microphone looked up at the sudden cacophony and blinked rapidly in the lights. He caught sight of his Dada and waved manically and Jeff couldn’t do anything other than wave back. His wife, free hand resting on the top of the podium, caught his eye and the soft little crinkles at the corners reassured him she wasn’t at all cross and the subtle little three-finger wave in his direction told him how glad she was he was there.

Lucy lifted her gaze to the rest of the audience and cleared her throat.

“Anyway… back to pulsars.”

The captivated crowd immediately silenced as she leapt again into the detail of the research group’s recent discoveries. She showed the way, they followed.

She carried them all with her.

Filled with pride, Jeff drifted to the sound of her voice and luxuriated in the invisible warmth she radiated, strong enough to bathe every soul in the room.

***

The assembled delegates laughed again and applauded and the speaker grinned. The noise died down slowly and he waited for absolute silence, eyes twinkling in the way they always had when he knew the punchline and couldn’t wait to share it. Of course, half the audience were TI employees and knew precisely what the CEO was unveiling - many of them had been working on it for months after all. And yet there wasn’t a metaphorical buttock in the auditorium that wasn’t perched on the edge of its metaphorical seat. It was just the way of things - he showed the way, they followed.

He carried them all with him.

“Anyway… back to that little announcement I promised you.”

There were a few whoops (one might have been Jeff).

The keynote speaker looked up and caught his father’s eye, the soft little crinkles at the corners revealing how delighted he was to see him there. Scott raised three fingers from the edge of the lectern in a subtle salute before continuing.

Filled with pride, Jeff drifted to the sound of his voice and luxuriated in the invisible warmth his son radiated, strong enough to bathe every soul in the room.

And she shone.

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

[heaven-s-black-box]

Definitely a Date- Lyney x Neuvillette's child!Reader

Return to File

Recovery date: April 18th, 2024

Description: Hello 👋, I just wanted to say I loved the Neuvillette story and I would like to see a continuation where the relationship with Lyney and the reader was explored, but if it's not to much to ask I'd also like some more context with the relationship between Neuvillette and the readers mother.

Notes: This work was recovered in conjunction with @crystalkat6747, we thank her for her contribution. This was fun, and ended up being super long. I clearly have favorites, lol.

Part: 1 2 3 4

Word count: 2 699

Back to directory

"I’m going out with Lyney today,” Y/n said before taking another bite of their croissant. “We might leave the city.”

“Very well, I won’t wait for you at dinner time.” Neuvillette stopped spreading the jam on his bread. “And if you could, ask him to stop climbing up to your window. He’s going to get arrested one of these times.”

Y/n inhaled sharply and began choking on their food. They grabbed their tea cup and chugged the drink before coughing some more. Neuvillette watched them carefully, pushing his chair back in case he needed to help.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m-” they coughed some more, “I’m fine,” they wheezed. “I didn’t think you knew about that,” they muttered, pouring themself more tea.

“I had my suspicions, but that was how he came looking for you the other day.”

Y/n cringed a bit at the mention of the other day. It had been three days since they and their siblings had scared their father shitless, and a day since the twins had gone back to Liyue where they were currently running a small legal business. In that time Y/n had stayed close to their father and been helping around the Palais Mermonia; whether it was their way of making up for scaring him or them trying to comfort themself was uncertain.

“On a different topic, I’ve been giving your question some thought.” Y/n’s brows furrowed in confusion. “About why your mother and I are no longer together.”

“Oh.”

“I believe it was as I said before, my duty as your father is to protect you, and your mother did not believe we could do that here. She’d always taken the prophecy seriously, and as the water level began to rise she became more anxious about what might happen. However, I refused to abandon my duties here and while she could not make you leave with her– at least you would have somewhere outside of Fontain you could go.”

“I’m guessing there was more to it?”

A small smile pulled at Neuvillette’s lips. “Yes, but it doesn’t concern you.”

Y/n leaned their chin on their palm and watched their father as he flipped to the next page of the Steambird. His eyes were solemn in a way akin to how they looked after a trial. They’d always known that he hadn’t liked the idea of the divorce, but they’d also gotten the feeling it was partly because he blamed himself. After their mother had left Fontain, he’d made it a point to spend his lunch break with them and take them to see shows they expressed interest in as though he were trying to make up for his previous absence caused by work.

In fact, they’d been in the audience together when Lyney and Lynette had debuted in the Opera Epiclese.

“So, when-”

A knock echoed through the house and Y/n rushed to the front door, Neuvillette close behind.

“Hey,” Y/n breathed out.

“Good morning, Y/n.” Neuvillette heard Lyney say just before he turned the corner. To his surprise, the magician was not in his usual clothes. Instead he was dressed in black slacks and a red dress shirt, sans his usual hat. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, let me just-ah!”

Y/n turned around to find their father standing at the end of the hallway.

“Enjoy your day.”

“Mhm,” Y/n nodded.

Lyney held out his arm for Y/n to take, and they waved goodbye to their father before stepping outside and linking their arm with his. Neuvillette watched them walk down the street, arm in arm, before closing the door to finish his morning routine.

“Nice outfit,” Y/n hummed, leaning into the magician’s side.

“Thank you, you look good too.”

They walked past shops with windows full of mechanical toys and fancy jewelry, occasionally stopping to talk about the items on sale. Y/n shared the story of  a new line of accessories they came across, and how the melusine who was sourcing the material had gifted them one of the first watches made. Lyney smiled as they went on about how pretty the watches circuitry was, which ended with them asking about Freminet’s recent inventions.

Lyney was more than happy to share about Pers’ latest upgrade as they headed towards Cafe Lutece. 

“What are we doing here?” Y/n wondered aloud as Lyney led them up to the counter.

“Grabbing snacks.”

Y/n shrugged, and ordered a batch of conch madeleines. When they turned back from getting their mora out, they found the exact change already on the counter. They turned to Lyney who grinned and pulled them away to a table where they could wait.

“I could have paid for myself.”

“It’s no problem, I like treating you when we go out.”

Y/n let out a fond sigh as a white box was set on the table. The young adults thanked the shop owner before Lyney took the lead once again, dragging Y/n to the aquabus station.

They boarded the Navia line and found themselves reminiscing about the recent flooding of the nation at the mention of their friend. The melusine went on with her speech, occasionally catching the interest of the two as she pointed out animals nearby. Y/n let their head rest against Lyney’s shoulder, unable to see the way the tips of his ears turned red.

In the sky, the sun shone brightly– unobstructed by clouds.

“You know…” Lyney started once they’d separated from the rest of the aquabus riders on their way towards the Opera Epiclese, “when we uncovered the whole scheme behind my first show here, I had nightmares for a week straight that you’d been the one drawn.”

He squeezed their hand but didn’t look at them. His eyes were trained forward as they turned away from the rainbow roses lining the path to look at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the frown adorning their lips.

“What brought that up?”

Lyney’s eyes flickered to their before he looked away again and started steering them towards the Icewind Suite installation.

“I figured you’d be home the other day, and when Monsieur Neuviellette barged into your room and you weren’t there…” He trailed off. “I’m not saying you have to tell someone everytime you go out,” he backtracked frantically when he caught Y/n looking away. “It was just, so unlike you to disappear like that.”

“Sorry. For scaring you guys, I mean.”

The two fell silent as they took a seat along the edge of the installation. Lyney set the box of treats between them and Y/n leaned back on their hands to watch the dancing machines.

“Oh, one, I’m supposed to tell you to stop climbing up to my window before you get arrested. Apparently the other day wasn’t the first time father’s caught you.” Lyney nearly choked on a blubber profiterole as his face turned nearly the same color as his vision, making Y/n laugh. “Secondly, why did you come looking for me the other day?”

Lyney stumbled over his words for a minute, still stuck in a coughing fit as he regretted not bringing anything to drink.

“I-” he coughed a bit more, “I wanted to tell you that Lynette and I got a show in Sumeru.”

“Really?” Y/n gasped, clapping their hands together. “That’s amazing, when is it?”

“A few months out, but Lynette and I have to visit the venue sometime next month to make sure everything will work.”

“That sounds fun.”

Y/n took a bite of one of the madeleines, turning back to the sweeping dance. Lyney propped his elbows up on his knees and leaned against his palms, watching them.

They looked over at him from the corner of their eye before inclining their head in confusion.

“What?”

“I want you to come with us.”

“For the show?” Y/n asked around another mouthful of madeleine. They shielded their mouth with their hand before swallowing. “Obviously, if you need me backstage.”

“No, well yes, but I mean next month. I want you to help us make a unique trick for our first international show.” Y/n stopped mid bite as Lyney continued. “I know right now you just come and go as you please, and that’s fine if you want to keep working at the Palais Mermonia, but I want to offer you a proper position in our show.”

Y/n sat up straight and stared at their half eaten madeleine for a moment before popping it into their mouth. 

“I’ll think about it,” they said after they finished it.

The answer seemed to satisfy Lyney as the magician smiled and turned to watch the dancing mechanisms. Across from them, the sun began to droop low enough that it washed out the show– its light glancing off the shiny metal and into the audience's eyes. They took this, and the completed sweets, as a sign that it was time to move on.

Lyney once again took the lead, looping his arm around Y/n’s and leading them back to the aquabus station.

Once back in the main court, he dragged them off to hotel debord where they had dinner before he once again dragged them off without an explanation.

“Alright, I wasn’t going to ask, but what’s all this about?” Y/n laughed as the magician dragged them through the court.

Streetlight had already turned on as the sun was hidden behind the high walls of the court. Lyney was no longer holding their arm but had a tight hold on their hand as they raced through the city.

“I haven’t seen you in four days, need to make up for lost time,” he laughed.

Lyney dragged them all the way out of the city before he slowed down again so they could walk side by side. He gently swung their hands back and forth, smiling as they ran their fingers over some of the calluses on his. They followed a practiced path down to the beach as the sun cast a golden glow over the landscape.

Y/n stopped suddenly when they hit the sand, causing Lyney to be yanked back, and took a deep breath. Lyney found himself smiling at this as he took off his shoes and socks.

A gentle tap at their knee lowered Y/n’s gaze to their feet Where Lyney was kneeling.

“What are you doing?” They asked, feeling their face heat up.

The magician grinned and carefully raised one of their feet to his knee where he began to take off their shoe.

“Taking your shoes off.” They yelped and grabbed his shoulders to balance themself as he removed the shoe and sock. “Other one.”

“I can definitely do that myself,” they laughed awkwardly.

“But I’m trying to spoil you,” he hummed as he set their other, now bare, foot down. He wrapped his arms around their legs and rested his chin against their abdomen. “Now how about a swim?”

“Are you trying to get me in my underwear?” They laughed, trying to ignore the heat spreading across their face and down their neck.

Y/n was so preoccupied with their own embarrassment that they missed the red tint that had also begun to cover Lyney’s face.

“If it makes you feel better I can strip first.”

“Ah, you’re serious.”

The realization stunned them, their thoughts running a mile a minute as they wondered if this had been a date in the first place. Not that they minded, but they couldn’t recall Lyney calling it a-

“AH!” they shrieked as Lyney wrapped an arm under their knees and the other around their back.

“Or we could just do this,” he laughed.

They shrieked and flailed as the deceptively strong magician picked them up and carried them over to the soft waves, then tossed them in. Y/n spluttered as they surfaced, wiping the water from their eyes just in time to watch Lyney jump in after them.

The wave hit them in the face, causing them to inhale water and start choking again.

“Are you okay,” he laughed, standing next to them in the water.

He wrapped an arm around them, patting their back as their head hung between them.

“You jerk,” they wheezed. “Now our clothes are wet.”

They sighed and kicked off the seafloor to float on their back, and Lyney joined them. He intertwined their hands so they wouldn’t float apart, and the two lay there watching the sky darken and the stars appear.

“Lyney?”

Y/n’s voice was muffled by the water in his ears.

“Yes?”

“Was this a date?”

The magician swung his feet under him and began to tread water as they’d floated away from shore. Y/n did the same, but grabbed Lyney’s shoulders to stabilize themself leaving the two practically nose to nose.

“No, if it was a date you’d definitely know.”

“And how would I definitely know?” Y/n inclined their head.

“Well for one I would have brought you flowers when I picked you up, two I wouldn’t let you pay for anything-”

“You didn’t let me pay for anything.”

Lyney cleared his throat awkwardly. “And three I would certainly hope you’d remember me asking.”

“So your sister helps you dress up for all your outings with friends? And you always walk arm in arm and pull out their chair?”

“How did you know Lynette helped me pick this out?”

“Lyney, in all the time we’ve known each other I’ve almost exclusively seen you in your show wear. For the first month we knew each other I wasn’t sure you owned anything else, then I just found out you’re a bit of a workaholic,” Y/n chuckled and moved their hands to cup Lyney’s face.

Lyney moved his hands up to their waist.

“This isn’t a date,” he said, causing Y/n to look at him incredulously. “I was going to ask you out on a date when I brought you home,” he grumbled, making Y/n laugh.

They dropped their head to his shoulder as theirs shook with every laugh. Lyney hugged their waist as they moved closer and pulled them back to where he could at least stand.

“I-”

“Nope. I’m still going to ask you, so save your answer for then.”

Y/n pulled back with a wide smile and nodded before the two wadded back to shore.

Lyney used his vision to dry them off, and they headed back into the city– once again hand in hand.

As soon as they arrived back at Y/n’s place, they turned around with an expectant grin. Lyney had to admit that he was less nervous than he’d expected, probably because they’d already made their answer very clear.

He flicked his wrist, and a rainbow rose appeared in his hand. They giggled as they reached for it, but Lyney pulled it back slightly.

“Y/n?”

“Yes?”

“Would you do me the honor of going on a date?”

“I would love to go on a date with you, Lyney.”

Lyney didn’t let them take the rose, moving it away again as they reached for it, and instead tucked it behind their ear.

“How does dinner tomorrow night sound?”

“It sounds perfect,” they hummed as they reached up to hold the hand lingering near their face. “Goodnight, Lyney,” Y/n whispered as they pressed their lips to his cheek.

---

“So-”

Y/n yelped, nearly falling off the stool at their vanity when Lyney spoke from behind them. The magician was perched on their open window sill with one leg crossed over the other and the day’s Steambird in his hands.

“Good morning,” he grinned at them. “Anyways, maybe it was a date.”

He stepped into their room and handed them the Steambird.

There, on the front page, was a picture of them watching the Icewind Suite. Lyney was leaning towards them with his chin in his palm and a lovesick look in his eyes and Y/n was watching the dance. The headline read Magic and Justice on a date?!

“Lynette?” Y/n sighed.

“Lynette.”

[hannahbarberra162]

hOrnithology for Beginners, Epilogue

on Ao3

All the other chapters

Marco come pick me up I have science to do.

I hope you enjoyed the ending! I almost included some smut but it didn't feel right with the pacing of the story.

~~~

Nine More Months Later

Marco POV

Marco watched you survey the deck of the Moby Dick, trying to determine if you were suitably impressed. You were hard to read but the tiny lift in your eyebrows signaled to him your approval. His Phoenix had been driving him absolutely crazy over the past week, wanting to prepare his room and get the ship to pristine condition to ensure you liked it. He’d felt compelled to primp and preen in front of the mirror, the Phoenix wanted to look its best for the returning Ornithologist. Despite trying to keep himself even keel, Marco had snapped at his siblings all week. They taunted him relentlessly, which he deserved. But the Phoenix was riding him hard, wanting everything to be perfect for it’s mate…er, date.

You were coming on board with Etta and they were bringing you across the Grand Line to an uninhabited island. Since their time on your island, Etta had become interested in etymology, specifically related to beetles. She’d maintained a correspondence with Ace, and had let him know the two of you wouldn’t be at your island for a while. Ace told Marco, and the two of them asked Pops if they could ferry the two of you where you needed to go. Pops had agreed easily with a twinkle in his eye. You had a great reputation with the crew already and Marco knew there was a betting pool on whether you’d shoot him again, with most betting that you did. 

Marco was hoping for the best, but realistically he didn’t know if anything physical would happen between the two of you. After he’d taken you flying, you’d looked up at him with a wistful gaze and angled your face towards his own. But at the last moment you’d frowned and thrust your hand between the two of you for a handshake. He’d taken it with grace but the Phoenix was sad. He’d tried to calm the bird within him, but it had its heart set on you. The conference had further endeared you to the Phoenix, it felt that you’d found an audience to adore it.  

After the conference, Marco had given you a snail in case the World Government or Marines gave you trouble due to your paper about him. That way you’d be able to call him for help if you were targeted as an  ally to the Whitebeard Pirates. They hadn’t, but you’d called him a few times to ask follow up questions about specific facets of the Phoenix you were curious about. That had turned into periodic calls and frequent letters between the two of you. You wrote mostly about birds you’d seen and sent some drawings as well. You started including little bits of personal information as well as the months went on. His brothers always knew when he got a new letter - he was snappish and almost hostile until he read the newest piece of news you’d sent him. He saved all your letters in his office, hidden at the bottom of his desk drawer. Marco knew it was silly, but he didn’t want anyone else to see the letters or drawings you’d sent. He could probably recite them all by heart from how many times he’d read them.

So when he finally saw you aboard the ship, he’d had to stop himself from bursting into a deluge of flames. The man knew he had to keep his cool, things weren’t as easy as the Phoenix thought they were. You took stock of the ship, putting your things down for a few moments. Marco noted your blow gun was still strapped to your thigh, he didn’t blame you. Etta had run ahead to Ace, the Logia user swinging her in a circle with loud kisses. He set her down and was whispering into her ear, making her giggle. They scurried off, presumably to Ace’s cabin, as soon as politely possible. You rolled your eyes at the pair, crossing your arms over your chest. Alright, show time.

Your POV

Being on the Moby Dick was more fun than you’d like to admit. The ship was huge, you’d never been on anything remotely as big before. You walked up to Whitebeard, introduced yourself and thanked him for taking you to your research outpost. 

“My pleasure, child,” said the World’s Strongest Man. “Was it you who poisoned my son?” 

“Depends which one,” you replied, shrugging. “I only poisoned Marco, Ace poisoned himself.” You weren’t cowed by his presence or ashamed of your actions, and you saw no reason to pretend to be. 

“GURAHAHAHAHA, a woman with spirit, I can see why my son likes you. Enjoy your time aboard the ship child.”

“Thank you, sir.” You blushed and moseyed off, knowing you’d been dismissed. You took out your binoculars, sea birds were something you had interest in but rarely got to see. You were hoping to see a New World Albatross to check it off your list. You’d become somewhat of a celebrity in the birding world, if such a thing existed. Your paper on the Phoenix, which had included 10 pages of diagrams and figures, was an overnight success in the scientific community. The information had made its way to the World Government, but they weren’t very interested in your calculations of the density of Marco’s bones. You knew there were some grumblings that you had slept with Marco to get the information, but you didn’t care. Let people think what they wanted, even if it wasn’t true. You were on your way with Etta to an island that had beetles only found on the small, sandy location. Since there were unique beetles, there were also unique birds, and you were hoping for an extended study on new colonies that had developed there. 

It wasn’t an easy choice to be friends with Etta again. After the pirates had left you didn’t talk to her for almost a month. You were so upset by her betrayal, you promised yourself you wouldn’t ever speak to her again. She tried to come by a few times but you didn’t open the door to her. Eventually, you did decide to reach out, just because you wanted some closure. It was an emotional conversation between the two of you, with both of you crying by the end of it. You listened to her and understood why she did what she did, but the reasons didn’t make it hurt less. The conversation ended on okay terms, but you weren’t sure the friendship would be rekindled. 

Etta had ended up becoming very interested in beetles after meeting Ace. She spent months learning and researching and had pursued higher studies. She sought you out every so often for clarification and it had slowly brought you back together. It took a lot of work between the two of you to get to where you could spend time together. Things weren’t the same as they were before, but they were mending and you had enough respect for her scientific enthusiasm to spend time on an island together. With the time you’d be spending as scientists together, you were feeling hopeful that the two of you might be friends again.

Your research was how the two of you ended up on the Moby Dick. You’d wanted to pay for passage on a merchant vessel to your scientific venture, but Etta had asked Ace in one of her letters. Ace said they were heading the same way, it wouldn’t be out of their way to pick you up and drop you off. If you were going to be traveling with pirates, you might as well travel with the strongest of them all. You’d have no trouble with shifty merchants or other pirates along the way, that was for sure. So you’d accepted and found yourself on Whitebeard’s ship, once again with Marco The Phoenix.

“So, how has business been going yoi?” Marco asked. Even after your article had been published, you continued to write letters back and forth with Marco. At first it was purely business, sending him the article and thanking him for coming to your lecture. But it had turned into a friendship of sorts, like pen pals. Ok, it was more than friendship. As the months went on and you exchanged more letters, you became more attached to the bird. Your day brightened immensely when you got one of his letters and you read them over and over again. You’d shared personal details and drawings with Marco in your correspondence as he shared more of himself. You’d told him how you hadn’t gone back to the restaurant, instead starting your own business of drawing caricatures of tourists. You made quite a bit of money, more than you’d ever made waitressing. Your pictures were often insulting but people loved them and bought them as souvenirs. You were known for making portraits of people looking like birds - either ones they selected or ones you thought they looked like.

“Really well, actually. I was finally able to buy a better dehydrator, which I’ve been wanting for a long time.” You still loved pineapple and had dehydrated crates worth for your trip into the wilderness. You hoped Marco didn’t dig into it before you got to your destination.

“Good, good.” Marco seemed to be having some hesitation, like he was holding himself back. You didn’t remember Marco being awkward, he had always been smooth before. Well, whatever. There were literally a thousand other people on board to entertain yourself with, even if they were pirates. Maybe you’d find that really good looking guy from the first time you’d met.

“Where can I drop my stuff?” you said, tapping your pack with your toe.

“Oh, you can put it in my room for now,” Marco replied, picking it up for you. 

“A little presumptuous, don’t you think?” You weren’t exactly sure what you and Marco would be up to tonight, but you didn’t want to assume anything. A tiny part of you hoped something did, but you also liked giving Marco shit. You’d be on the ship for a few weeks, the island wasn’t close to where you were located. There would be plenty of time for things to develop between you and Marco, if they did at all.

“How rude! Dart him again!” cheered a man you recognized from the restaurant. He still had that pompadour, that was his normal look? You rolled your eyes.

“Eh, not right now. But if you want to see someone poisoned, you can try it out,” you replied. He paled and you laughed. Marco led you to the stairs, taking you down to put your things in his room. You peeked in while he set them down on an overstuffed chair. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it was neat and orderly, with a few mementos from his travels. His desk was a little less organized, with papers scattered all over the surface. And in the back corner, a framed picture you remembered vividly. Busting in, you grabbed it off his desk.

“I can’t believe you kept this!” you said, looking over the drawing. It was the sketch you’d made of him as a bird - before you’d known he was the Phoenix. The figure you’d drawn was much smaller and cuter than his actual bird form, but you stood by it still. Marco plucked it from you, almost like he was embarrassed. 

“I like it yoi,” was all he said, putting it back on his desk. He adjusted it so it sat just so on his desk, like things had to be in a certain order. “Let’s go back on deck, I’m sure the party will be getting started soon.”

“Party?”

~

And indeed, there was a party in your honor. Well, you couldn’t be sure it was in your honor, it seemed like these pirates needed little reason to party. Still, it was the largest party you’d ever been invited to. You hung around Marco, and later Etta and Ace once they resurfaced from whatever they were doing. You were chit chatting with the crew members, surprising yourself for being so casual with pirates. They had been asking you about your business venture outside of your scientific curiosities.

“But why insulting drawings?” asked the World’s Prettiest Man Izou, still dressed in Wano inspired clothing. Now why couldn’t he have been the Phoenix? You would have forgiven him much sooner. 

“People pay more for insulting caricatures,” you said, shrugging. “People seem to like it when I rip on them, I don’t know why.” You’d brought sketching supplies naturally, but didn’t want to waste them on stupid drawings of pirates. “I can draw some for you guys if you have pencils.” 

~

“GURAHAHAHAHA, an excellent likeness!” You’d given the Captain a drawing of himself with a crescent beard that echoed the way his mustache looked. He was White beard, but you didn’t want to draw anything too insulting. It would be no fun if you were stomped to death before you’d even made it to your destination. You’d been drawing the pirates all evening, to their intense amusement. You’d drawn Haruta as a Tontatta, Namur as a mermaid, Kingdew as a bumblebee, and Fossa smiling, among others. They loved seeing the finished product and multiple beers had been ejected through noses after you’d shown the final results. 

“Draw more! Just one more!” cheered Thatch. He’d been especially taken with the drawings after you’d drawn one of him as a loaf of bread. 

“No, no. I’m done for now with you lot,” you said, handing the clipboard back to Thatch. The crowd booed you.

“Enough yoi. She said she’s done,” Marco said, in a tone that held no room for arguing. He was radiating little wisps of fire, like he was ready to defend your honor. The crowd was still booing but was dispersing. Marco had been hanging out near you all night, almost like he was nervous to leave you alone. He was good company though, and you enjoyed talking with him in person rather than over the mail. “Would you like me to show you to the guest room?” Marco asked. You were tired of being at the party, but not that tired. You didn’t like playing games, you just did what you thought felt right. Besides, you weren’t stupid, you knew the Moby Dick hadn’t been going in the direction of a random unnamed scientific outpost. 

You hummed in response. “I’m not tired just yet, I’d rather complete some research. There’s one component I’m still missing,” you said cryptically. 

Marco raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What component yoi?”

“The effects of endorphin release upon the Phoenix,” you deadpanned. You thought you heard the start of a bird song but Marco cleared his throat instead. He leaned against the railing of the deck on one forearm, bringing his face closer to yours.

Marco laughed lightly. “Oh? And will your findings be published?” Marco asked, leaning over and caging you against the railing with his body.

“No, this is more for personal education,” you replied with a smirk, tilting your head towards his.

“Well, we must satisfy your curiosity yoi. What kind of endorphin release did you have in mind? Meditation? Exercise? Eating spicy food?” 

“Something like that,” you replied. You grabbed the front of his open shirt and pulled his face to yours, kissing him deeply. Marco kissed you back, leaning you back against the railing of the deck. You distantly heard cheers from the crew, but couldn’t be bothered to care. Besides, you didn’t have enough darts to shoot them all. 

Marco POV

If the skinny dipping didn’t do it, and the poison didn’t do it, this would certainly be Marco’s end. Marco the man was fine with kissing on the deck in front of the crew, they all did it from time to time. The Phoenix, however, was ready for heads to roll. It didn’t want any potential rivals seeing your romance, it wanted your mate DATE safely within Marco’s room before anything happened. Marco had already been riding a thin line all night. He knew he had no business telling you what to do and who to interact with, but there was no calming the Phoenix. It wanted you all to itself, away from all his siblings. The whole night his hand was itching to throw you over his shoulder and take you below deck. He’d nearly done it when Thatch had made you laugh at some stupid joke, but had held himself back at the last moment. Now he wasn’t sure he could. The whoops coming from the deck had his eye twitching. 

“Would you like to continue this experiment elsewhere?” Marco whispered into your ear. You shivered at the feeling of his stubble on your cheek.

“In your nest?” you whispered back mischievously. Marco nipped your ear as a reply. This time, he did throw you over his shoulder, causing you to laugh. He stalked off towards the stairs, causing even more whooping from his brothers. Marco knew they’d tease him at a later time, but he wasn’t thinking about that. At that moment, all he cared about was hearing your laughter, feeling you in his arms, and knowing that he’d have a few weeks to spend with you on the Moby. And he could always come visit you at your outpost, one of the benefits of having wings. Phoenix and man were united, excited for the future with their favorite birdwatcher. 

[hb-writes]

Hide and Seek

Summary: 1923 in the Little Lady Blinderverse. When Clara hides herself away at a charity event, Isiah is tasked with finding her and bringing her back to the party.

Characters: Isiah Jesus & Clara Shelby (OC)

Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist

Comfy-vember 2024 Masterlist

—

Clara and her book were hiding, something she had taken to doing with a certain regularity at these charity events. The people who attended were always far too posh, and while Clara felt pretty in the clothes Grace picked out for her, she didn’t feel a bit like herself while wearing them. 

The clothes also made her feel like a little kid, all variations of something she would have loved to wear years ago. Back when she didn’t care about looking like a baby, or being treated like one, but Clara was halfway to an adult as far as she was concerned, and she didn’t need any childish frills to help her with looking young.

Clara managed that on her own because she had yet to experience the growth spurt that had Finn towering over her and she still had the very same face she’d had since she was practically a toddler, or at least that’s the way it seemed. Everyone was always commenting on how young she looked, surprised to learn she was an adolescent.

“Your brother is looking for you.” 

She glanced up at Isiah. Clara knew he was talking about Tommy. None of the others bothered, preoccupied with the food and the alcohol and the opulence, but because Grace was likely thinking about presentation, and whispering about Clara’s notable absence in Tommy’s ear, Clara assumed he’d sent Isiah to pull her out of hiding so she could mingle. 

Clara tired easily of such interactions, reminded by the guests of the posh girls who attended her school, and worse yet, Clara was sick of being told she looked like such a beautiful mix of her mother and her father. 

She hadn’t heard it yet tonight, but Clara assumed it was just a matter of time. 

She had Tommy’s eyes, but with Grace’s fair hair. Quick witted and sweet with a proper set of manners on her. That’s what some well-intentioned guest always pointed out. 

There was a tune when it hadn’t bothered Clara that people assumed Tommy was her father. A time when a part of her liked it, in a way, because he was the closest she had ever really had to one, but it only bothered her now. 

“Tell him to come find me himself, then.” 

Isiah snorted as he sat down beside her on the steps.

“Can’t imagine that will go over well.”

Clara shrugged, It had been a while since she had properly cared how things went over where Tommy was concerned, but Clara still held a modicum of concern because they were in a public place and she had no interest in being chastised with an audience. That would really get people thinking she was a child, Tommy and Grace’s at that. 

“I want to go home,” she finally offered, cooperative as Isiah pulled the book from her hands and started skimming through the pages.

“Just you and this book, eh?” 

Clara shrugged. “You could come if you want.” 

Isiah snorted again, not because he didn’t want it, but because it was an unlikely outcome.

“Or you could just leave me here and tell him you couldn’t find me.” 

“I tell him that and your brothers’ll have half of Birmingham out looking for you.”

And once they found her, Clara would have an earful off of him. 

“Come on, Clara,” Isiah said, squeezing her knee before he stood, stepping away. “It won’t be so bad.” 

“Isiah?

“What is it, love?”

“Can I have my book?” Clara said, holding her hand out for him to return it. 

“If I give you this book, you’ll never leave that step.” Isiah shook his head as he pocketed it within his jacket. “Come with me now and you can have it later.” 

Clara took Isiah’s outstretched hand, allowing him to help her up, the momentum of his tug pulling her into his chest. Clara stayed there a minute, letting Isiah hold her against him. 

“And you and Finn’ll come out to Warwickshire this weekend?” 

“Sure, love.” He shrugged. “Why not.” 

“Great,” Clara said as she extracted herself from Isiah's arms, the book safely in her grasp as she pulled away and returned to her spot on the stoop. "You can tell Tommy I'll be out once I finish this chapter."

Clara was unsurprised when Isiah chose not to go relay the message to her brother, but instead to sit back down beside her, allowing Clara to continue reading her book in peace as the posh party continued down the hall.

—

Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist

Comfy-vember 2024 Masterlist

[eriexplosion]

ND Tech Week Day 2 - Comfort Person

Rating: General Audience Word Count: 601 Summary: When Tech has a nightmare, Hunter helps just by existing. For @neurodivergent-tech-week

Before Tech had known anything else, he’d known Hunter.

Hunter had been all he cared to know. Wrecker had yet to be decanted, taking two extra months to develop enough that his young body could support his own musculature, and Crosshair, undersized as he was in the tube, had taken even longer. In those earliest, fogged memories that even his enhanced mind had trouble fully materializing, he could see the cold laboratories. Endless tests of his abilities. Needles too big for tiny veins. Hunter had been the only thing that hadn’t in some way hurt.

It had been such a short period of time that they were alone together, CT-9901 and CT-9902 rather than Hunter and Tech, but only knowing that they would be returned to each other afterwards had gotten Tech through those early tests. Perhaps that was why even now, grown and far from the laboratories that now lay on Kamino’s ocean floor, difficult nights still drove him directly to Hunter’s side.

This time had been a nightmare, every second saved in cruel clarity by a brain that couldn’t seem to forget anything, his greatest strength turned against him. It had begun as a memory. Omega slipping from her perch in the ipsium mine. Calling out to him for help. Vanishing into the darkness with a scream. He’d jumped in after her, but in the nightmare he’d crawled from the water alone, searching, desperate, the minutes dragging out until he finally spotted blonde hair in the water, and an unmoving body-

Tech collapsed gracelessly to the floor beside Hunter’s rack, armor feeling heavy despite all the pieces they’d removed in recent months. He leaned his head back against the edge of the rack, letting it dig into the strap of his goggles rather than his scalp. It was the only concession to comfort he bothered with.

Listening for Hunter’s breathing, slow and steady in sleep, Tech forced his own to synchronize. Every time his mind tried to flip back to avenues not worth considering - Omega was safe, asleep in her room, alive - he forced it back to maintaining that rhythm instead. Slow breath in. Short huff out.

If he weren’t fighting against his own memory, he might have noticed when the breathing pattern he was so studiously matching stuttered out of the even rhythm of sleep. But his own mind was the only one that could challenge him, and it could even make him miss the obvious, it seemed, because when a hand found his head and scratched sleepily through his hair, it was enough to make him jolt in surprise.

“Tech?” Hunter barely sounded conscious.

Still, Tech leaned his head back into the touch like it was an instinctual thing, and Hunter took his silence as permission to continue. Those scratching fingers moved through his hair until Hunter could run a finger along Tech’s hairline, from forehead back. Some of the tension slipped away, like water running down his neck.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

Hunter always asked, even though the answer was always the same, and he’d always accepted the answer when it was given. One of many things Tech appreciated about him. Silence grew between them, one of comfortable companionship rather than awkwardness, and Hunter continued his careful touch.

For a moment, the nightmare’s hold slipped away. Everything did, from the hard metal floor he sat on to Wrecker’s snores traveling down from the top rack. There was only the two of them, as they’d once been. CT-9901 and CT-9902, the only two things in the world, together.

Tech finally let his eyes close again.

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me Final🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - get some tissues..

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 24

In time, it became evident that he was letting his health go. His behavior at times was deliberately self-destructive. On a few occasions he’d say, “I’ll never make it much beyond forty.” We’ve all made such statements, but with Matt the thought was deep-seated and chronic. Mary Lou had died at forty-two and, like Mary Lou, he wanted to go before his father, sensing that he himself couldn’t bear another loss.

From time to time, I’d hear that he had checked into the hospital. Concerned, I’d call, asking, “Are you all right?”

“Sure,” he’d say, laughing a little to show me it was all a big joke. “I just need a little rest, Sattnin.” Then I realized he’d gone to the hospital for the same reason he had during his Army days. It was his way of taking a little rest; he needed to get out of Graceland and away from all the pressures.

By 1976 everyone was becoming alarmed over his mental state as well as his physical appearance. His face was bloated, his body unnaturally heavy. The more people tried to talk to him about this, the more insistent he became that everything was all right.

The Colonel was even concerned about Matt’s actions while onstage. Matt started forgetting lyrics and resorting to sheet music. He was acting erratic by ignoring the audience and playing to the band. A few shows were canceled and no one could predict whether or not he’d appear onstage.

In the absence of any significant professional challenge, Matt created his own real-life dramas. His fascination with guns was now an obsession. He became paranoid over death threats, and from his association with the Boston local police, he had access to lists of local drug pushers. He felt he personally should get them off the streets. Phoning me late one evening, he said, “y/nn, you have anyone you want taken care of? Strictly top secret.”

The style, grace, and pride that for the past eight years had been the hallmark of a Sturniolo live performance now bordered on self-parody. Frustrated with the lack of challenge of each passing show, Matt resorted to sheer flamboyance, symbolized by his costumes, each more elaborate than the one before, loaded with an overabundance of fake stones, studs, and fringes. There were voluminous capes and cumbersome belts to match. He was performing in garb that added thirty-five pounds to his weight. It was as if he were determined to upstage himself instead of relying on his raw talent.

There were times in his final year that he would be criticized on how he related to his audience. Some people observed that he joked around with his band too much and left his songs unfinished. Once Matt even complained from the stage about “bad management” at the hotel, citing a certain employee at the Hilton who was being fired. The following day Colonel William asked Matt to stick to his own business—entertaining—and let the hotel handle its help. James tended to take Matt’s side on this as on every issue, but the Colonel had a right to be concerned.

One of the guys actually told Matt he was beginning to look more like a Liberace act in the hope that Matt would take the hint and come to his senses and rely on just his talent. But from the beginning Matt had insisted: “I just want to read positive reviews. I don’t want to hear any negativity.” As a teenager he’d been shielded by Mary Lou from criticism. When she’d filled her albums and scrapbooks, she’d used only the favorable clippings. If he hadn’t been so sheltered, he might have had a better perspective on his career. At least he’d have been aware of what was being written about him and possibly used some of the comments constructively.

No matter what he did, his fans still cheered him on. They were faithful to him through good performances and bad, and eventually their love was the only real gratification he received. They endorsed everything he did. Maybe as long as he was getting their cheers, he thought he was doing fine. But in fact Colonel William was right when he told Matt that he’d better get himself straightened out or his whole career would go down the drain.

His personal life was not helping the situation. He was seeing Ginger Alden, who was twenty years his junior, and the difference in their ages was becoming more and more of a problem. He’d say, “I’m tired of raising kids. I don’t have the patience to go through it all over again.” There were conflicts—many. Ginger did not like touring, one-night stands. She was close to her family and didn’t want to leave them. Matt tried bringing half her family with them, but that only created other problems. “She spends more time with her sister and mother than she does with me,” he complained.

In discussing his dilemma, I asked, “Do you think you can really live with just one woman?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Now more than ever. I know I’ve done some stupid things, but the stupidest was not realizing what I had until I lost it. I want my family back.”

I wondered if there was some way we could make it work. “Maybe it was just too early in life for us, Sattnin,” I said. “Maybe one day there will be a time for us.”

“Yeah,” Matt laughed. “When I’m seventy and you’re sixty. We’ll both be so old we’ll look really silly, racing around in golf carts.”

In April 1977 Matt fell ill and had to cancel his tour and return home to Graceland. Charlotte and I were there visiting Dodger. He called me up to his room. He did not look himself; his face and body were bloated. He was wearing pajamas, which he seemed to prefer these days when at home. He held Cheiro’s Book of Numbers and told me there was something he wanted me to read. His curiosity for answers had not abated. He was still searching for his purpose in life, still feeling he had not found his calling. If he had found a cause to espouse, whether a drugless society or world peace, he would have had the role he sought in life. His generosity was evidence of this part of his nature—his legendary penchant for giving, even to the countless people he didn’t know.

But he never found a crusade to pull him out of his cloistered world, a discipline strong enough to counter his escape into drugs. That night he read to me, searching for answers, just as he had done the year before and the year before that and the years before that.

It was August 16, 1977, overcast and dreary, not a typical Southern California day. When I walked outside, there was a stillness, an unnatural calm in the air that I have not experienced since. I almost went back into the house, unable to shake my uneasiness. I had a meeting that morning and by noon I was racing to meet my sister Michelle. On my way into Hollywood I noticed the atmosphere had not changed. It still seemed unusually silent and depressing and it had begun to drizzle. As I drove down Melrose Avenue, I saw Michelle standing on the corner, a look of concern on her face. “y/nn, I just got a call from Dad,” she said as I pulled up. “Nate’s been trying to reach you. It’s something about Matt in the hospital.” Nate Doe was Matt’s road manager and right-hand man. I froze. If he was trying to reach me, something must be terribly wrong. I told Michelle to take her car and quickly follow me home. the hospital all year; there were times when he wasn’t even sick that he’d check in for a rest, to get away from pressures, or just out of boredom. It had never been anything too serious.

I thought about our daughter, Charlotte, who was visiting Matt at Graceland and was supposed to come home that very day. Oh God, I prayed. Please let everything be all right. Don’t let anything happen, please, dear God.

I ran every red light and nearly hit a dozen cars. At last, I reached home, and as I swerved down the driveway, I could hear the phone ringing from inside the house. Please don’t hang up, I prayed, jumping out of the car and running toward the door. “I’m coming,” I yelled. I tried to get my key in the lock, but my hand wouldn’t stop shaking. Finally I got into the house, grabbed the receiver, and yelled, “Hello, hello?”

All I could hear was the hum of a longdistance line, then a stricken, faint voice, “y/nn. It’s Nate.”

“What’s happened, Nate?”

“It’s Matt.”

“Oh, my God. Don’t tell me.”

“y/nn, he’s dead.”

“Nate, don’t tell me that. Please!”

“We’ve lost him.”

“No. NO!” I begged him to take back his words. Instead, he was silent. “We’ve lost him—” His voice broke and we both began to cry. “Nate, where’s Charlotte?” I asked.

“She’s okay. She’s with Grandma.”

“Thank God. Nate, send a plane for me, please. And hurry. I want to come home.”

As I hung up, Michelle and Mother, who had just arrived, embraced me and we cried in each other’s arms. Within minutes the phone rang again. For a moment I hoped for a miracle; they were calling me back to tell me that Matt was still alive, that it was all right, that it had all been a bad dream.

But there were no miracles. “Mommy, Mommy,” Charlotte was saying. “Something’s happened to Daddy.” “I know, Baby,” I whispered. “I’ll be there soon. I’m waiting for the plane now.”

“Everybody’s crying, Mommy.”

I felt helpless. What could I say to her? I couldn’t even find words to comfort myself. I feared what she would be hearing. She didn’t yet know that he had died. All I kept saying over and over was, “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Try to stay in Grandma’s room, away from everyone.” In the background I could hear a grief-stricken James moaning in agony. “My son’s gone. Dear God, I’ve lost my son.”

Fortunately a child’s innocence provides its own protection. Death was not yet a reality to her. She said she’d go out and play with Laura, her friend.

I hung up and walked around in a daze, still numb with shock. The news hit the media instantly. My phones did not stop ringing, with friends trying to cope with the shock, members of the family grasping for explanations, and the press demanding statements. I locked myself in the bedroom and left instructions that I would not speak to anyone, that I wanted to be alone. In fact, I wanted to die. Love is very deceiving. Though we were divorced, Matt was still an essential part of my life. Over the last years we’d become good friends, admitting the mistakes we’d made in the past and just beginning to laugh at our shortcomings. I could not face the reality that I would never see him alive again. He had always been there for me. I depended on him, just as he depended on me. We had a bond: We’d become closer and had more understanding and patience for each other than in our married life. We had even talked of one day  . . . And now he was gone. I remembered our last phone conversation, just a few days before. His mood had been good as he talked about the twelve-day tour he was about to begin. He even laughed when he told me that, as usual, the Colonel had papered the first city they were scheduled to hit with his posters and that his records were being played constantly in advance of his arrival.

“Good old Colonel,” Matt had said. “We’ve come a long way. He’s still puttin’ out that same old stuff. It’s a wonder people are still buying it.”

I loved hearing Matt laugh, something he had been doing less and less. Just days before that last call, I’d heard that his spirits were down and he was contemplating breaking up with Ginger Alden, his girlfriend. I knew him well enough to realize that this was not an easy move for him to make. If only I’d known that would be the last time I’d talk to him, I’d have said so much more: things I wanted to say and never had, things I’d held inside me for so many years because the timing was always wrong.

He had been a part of my life for eighteen years. When we met, I had just turned fourteen. The first six months I spent with him were filled with tenderness and affection. Blinded by love, I saw none of his faults or weaknesses. He was to become the passion of my life.

He taught me everything: how to dress, how to walk, how to apply makeup and wear my hair, how to behave, how to return love his way. Over the years he became my father, husband, and very nearly God. Now he was gone and I felt more alone and afraid than ever in my life.

The hours went by slowly before Matt’s private plane, the Charlotte Grace, arrived. Behind closed doors I sat and waited, remembering our life together—the joy, the pain, the sadness, and the triumphs—from the very first time I heard his name.

We boarded the Charlotte Grace around nine o’clock that evening, just my parents, Michelle, Jerry Schilling, Amber Doe, and a few close friends. At first, I just sat alone, in despair. Then I went to the back of the plane, to Matt’s bedroom. I lay there, unable to believe that Matt was really dead.

I remembered the jokes Matt used to make about dying. He’d say, “It’d really take something for me to leave this earth.” Yet he wore a chain around his neck that had both a cross and a Star of David on it. He would joke about it, saying he wanted to be covered in all areas, just in case.

He’d had a fear of flying, but he never showed it. Matt never showed any of his fears. He felt he had a responsibility to make everyone else feel secure. So he gave the impression he was self-assured, because he didn’t want to let any of us down.

I thought of a time when we were on a flight home from Los Angeles. There was a lot of turbulence, and the plane was shaking badly. Everyone on board was frightened. Everyone but Matt. When I looked at him, he was smiling, and then he took my hand.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re gonna make it.” Suddenly, I felt safe. There was a certainty about Matt. If he said it was going to be, then it was going to be that way.

The trip seemed endless. By the time we reached Boston, I was numb. We were ushered into a waiting limousine, to avoid the crush of photographers. Then we sped off to Graceland, where we were met by frantic, disbelieving faces: relatives and close friends, the maids—the same people who had been around us for so many years. I had spent most of my life with these people and seeing them now was devastating.

Most of Matt’s close family—James, Grandma, her daughters, Delta and Nash, and others—congregated in Grandma’s room, while his friends, and the guys who worked for him, were mostly gathered in the den. Everyone else seemed to just be walking in and out of the rooms, silent and solemn, glancing around in disbelief.

Charlotte was outside on the lawn, with a friend, riding around on the golf cart that her father had given her. At first I was amazed that she was able to play at a time like this, but when I talked to her, I realized that the full impact of what happened hadn’t hit her yet. She’d seen the paramedics rushing Matt away, and he was still at the hospital when I’d arrived, so Charlotte was confused.

“Is it true?” she asked. “Is my daddy really gone?”

Again, I was really at a loss for words. She was our child. It was difficult enough for me to believe and confront Matt’s death myself. I just didn’t know how to tell her that she would never see her daddy again.

I nodded, then took her into my arms. We hugged and then she ran out and started riding around in her golf cart again. But now I was glad she could play. I knew it was her way of avoiding reality.

The night seemed endless. Several of us sat around the dining room table talking, and it was then that I learned the circumstances of Matt’s death. I was told that Matt had played racquetball with his cousin, Billy Smith, until four o’clock that morning, while Billy’s wife, Jo, and Matt’s girlfriend, Ginger, watched them. Then they all presumably retired for the night. But as Ginger slept, Matt stayed up to read. He called down to his Aunt Delta for some ice water and said he was having a hard time sleeping.

Matt was still reading when Ginger woke up at nine o’clock that morning, and then she went back to sleep until about 1 p.m. When she awoke, Matt was not in bed. She found him lying face down on his bathroom floor.

Ginger called downstairs, and Al Strada and Nate Doe came running up. After calling the paramedics, Nate gave Matt CPR until they arrived. As the paramedics were leaving to rush Matt to the hospital, his personal physician, “Dr. Joe,” arrived and rode in the ambulance, working on Matt all the way to Baptist Memorial. There the staff tried for another half an hour to revive Matt, but it was all futile. He was pronounced dead on arrival of heart failure. James then requested an autopsy. The body was taken to the Boston Funeral Home to be prepared for viewing in Graceland the following day.

As I sat listening to the events leading up to Matt’s last hours, I became more and more disturbed. There were so many questions. Matt was seldom left alone for any length of time.

Suddenly I knew I had to be alone. I went upstairs to Matt’s private suite, where we had spent so much of our life together. The rooms were more orderly than I’d expected. Many of his personal belongings were gone; his nightstand was bare of books.

I went into his dressing room and it was as if I could sense his living presence—his own unique scent filled the room. It was an eerie sensation.

From the dining room window I could see thousands of people out on Matt Sturniolo Boulevard waiting for the hearse that would bring his body back to Graceland. His music filled the air as radio stations throughout the nation paid tribute to the King.

Soon the casket was placed in the entrance hall and opened for viewing. I sat in Grandma’s room most of that afternoon as thousands of mourners from all over the world passed by, paying their last respects. Many wept; some men and women even fainted. Others lingered at the casket, refusing to believe it was him. He was truly loved, admired, and respected.

I waited for the right moment for Lisa and me to say goodbye. It was late that evening, and Matt had already been moved to the living room where the funeral was to be held. It was quiet; everyone had left. Together we stood over him, emotional. “You look so peaceful, Sattnin, so rested. I know you’ll find happiness and all the answers there.” Then I joked, “Just don’t cause any trouble at the Pearly Gates.” Charlotte took my hand and we placed a sterling silver bracelet depicting a mother and child’s clasped hands on his right wrist. “We’ll miss you.” I knew my life would never be the same.

Colonel came to the funeral wearing his usual baseball hat, shirt, and slacks. He disguised his emotions as best he could. Matt had been like his own son. From the old school, the Colonel was considered a coldhearted businessman, but in truth he had stayed faithful and loyal to Matt, even when his career began to slip. This day he asked James to sign a contract extending his position as Matt’s manager. He was already planning ways to keep Matt’s name before the public. He acted quickly, fearful that with Matt gone, James would be too distraught to handle correctly the many proposals and propositions that would be in the offing. James signed.

At the service, Charlotte and I sat with James and his new fiancée, Sandy Miller, Dodger, Delta, Patsy, my parents, Michelle, and the rest of the family. George Hamilton was there. Julia Ernst attended with her husband, Roger Smith. Julia expressed her sympathy so sincerely I felt a genuine bond with her.

J.D. and the Stamps Quartet sang Matt’s favorite gospel songs. James had chosen the preacher, a man who hardly knew Matt and spoke mostly of his generosity. Matt would probably have laughed and told his dad, “Couldn’t you have got a comedian or something?” Matt would not have wanted us to grieve.

After the service we drove to the cemetery, Charlotte and I riding with James and Sandy. It was three miles away and for the whole three miles both sides of the street were lined with mourners, and at the cemetery there were thousands more. The pallbearers—Jerry Schilling, Nate Doe, George Klein, Steven Wright, Billy Smith, Charlie Hodge, Dr. Joe, and Gene Smith—carried the casket to the marble mausoleum where Matt was finally laid to rest. There we held a short ceremony and, one by one, walked to the coffin, kissed or touched it, and spoke a few words of farewell. Shortly after, for security reasons, he was moved to Graceland in the meditation garden, his final resting place.

Before Charlotte and I returned to L.A., James called me to his office. He was overwhelmed with grief. Did I know anything that would help him to understand why his son had died? He never fully accepted it, and I believed his pain led to his own death, just as Grandma later never recovered from James’s death.

When Charlotte and I returned home I was torn, trying to decide what was best for her. Many conflicting stories were coming out in the national publications and I knew these could have a lasting negative effect on her memory of her father. I decided to send her to summer camp. There she could be protected from radio, TV, and newspapers and could be with her many friends, including Debbie and Cindy, Nate and Amber’s children.

By the time she returned, I’d already made plans with Michelle for a long trip to Europe. Anything to get away from the constant reminders that filled the media.

Matt’s death made me much more aware of my own mortality and that of the people I loved. I realized I’d better start sharing a lot more with the people that I cared about, and every moment that I had with my child or my parents became more precious.

I learned from Matt, often—sadly—from his mistakes. I learned that having too many people around can sap your energies. I learned the price of trying to make everyone happy. Matt would bestow gifts on some, making others jealous, often creating rivalries and anxieties within the group. I learned to confront people, and to face issues—two steps Matt had avoided.

I learned to take charge of my life. Matt had been so young when he became a star that he was never able to handle the power and money that accompanied his fame. In many ways, he was a victim, destroyed by the very people who catered to his every want and need. He was a victim, too, of his image. His public wanted him to be perfect while the press mercilessly exaggerated his faults. He never had the chance to be human, to grow up to be a mature adult, to experience the world outside his artificial cocoon.

When Matt Sturniolo died, a little of our own lives was taken from each of us who knew and loved Matt Sturniolo, who shared in his music, his films, who followed his career. His passion was entertaining his friends and fans. His audience was his true love. And the love Matt and I shared was a deep and abiding one.

He was, and remains, the greatest influence in my life.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - sad endings actually kill me. i cried multiple times. thank you so much for all the love & support on this story i really enjoyed it. let me know what kind of writing you would like to see next🎀

[shyvioletcat]

ROWAELIN MONTH: DAY 10

~ Co-host/Guest Star with Chemistry ~

You might remember this fic from last year. Well, I had plans to make it a one off thing but then I couldn't help it and I got another idea. And I just want to say thank you to everyone who read the first part and loved it. It's so fun when you guys love something as much as I do. Without further delay, please enjoy Part 2 who we really and truly have to thank Rowaelin month and @rowaelinscourt for.

~~~~~

All Aelin could do was stare at her own reflection in the mirror of her dressing room vanity. She didn’t have long before she had to leave her sanctuary and face a crowd of strangers like her entire world hadn’t been rocked at its foundations. Acting was a talent she’d taken to at a very young age, the tales of her dramatics often told around the dinner table. Aelin would be fine, she’d put on one of her charismatic smiles and give her audience her all, and everything would be fine. But for now, it was only her stunned expression to keep her company. 

That was how Rowan found her however long later, silent and still as her mind was whirring with thoughts of the future. Aelin had lost track of the minutes spent doing absolutely nothing, and as Rowan appeared in the mirror she startled, a hand flying to her chest as if to stop her heart from flying out of her chest. 

“Holy gods, you scared me,” she breathed as Rowan removed his cap and kissed her on the cheek. 

“I’m sorry, love,” Rowan murmured onto her skin as he kissed her again. When he noticed she still hadn’t moved, not in the slightest, to look at him or seek out another kiss his voice changed from teasing to concern. “Are you all right?”

Aelin finally found the compulsion to move, swivelling in her makeup chair to face Rowan. It was always infinitely more pleasant when he could come to the studio without the threat of being in front of the camera. Not as exciting for her, but she was still happy to see him. When he came to visit her here Rowan had to sneak in and from the sheer amount of times he’d done he’d developed quite the skill for it. The tricky part was not drawing attention, and with years of practice he had the art of blending in down to a fine art. 

The key was appearing so much unlike his professional self that it would take more than a double take to place why he looked so familiar. So today with his scruffy hat hair, hoodie and stubble covered cheeks, he was a far cry from the suave and composed image he gave the camera.

Since Rowan’s last public performance here he’d been promoting his new album and gone on tour. Over the past eight months Aelin had hardly seen him except via a phone screen. The last time they had managed to see each other in person was when he had shows in Suria and snuck away when he should have been sleeping in to come see her. That was about six weeks ago.

“We have a situation,” Aelin had said, looking up at him and jerking her head towards the vanity. “And I think we have this room and that couch to blame.” 

Rowan’s brows furrowed then looked to where she had directed. His eyes went wide and he did a few double takes before his gaze finally settled on her. There was an open question in his eyes and Aelin just nodded. Then he let out a shaky laugh as he realised fully what this all meant, a hand rubbing his stubbled chin. 

“Well, I guess this changes things,” Rowan finally said. 

“Indeed it does,” Aelin confirmed. “We need a plan, and I think I have one.”

THREE AND A HALF MONTHS LATER…

Aelin always got butterflies waiting behind the curtain for the final call of action. The crowd was still humming with chatter and she could hear the last camera checks over her in-ear monitor. This time the butterflies were worse, enough to make her nauseous. Today’s show would be one to be remembered and it had taken a good amount of deceit and scheming to get here.

“Alright, Aelin,” a voice said into her ear. “Curtains open in five, four, three…”

Aelin took in a deep breath, the last two counts sounding in her head. Two, One.

The applause started and then the curtains opened, Aelin taking the ten steps forward to get to her mark. She smiled and waved while she made eye contact with a few people seated in the audience. There were cheers and whistles, and when it went on a little too long Aelin held up her hands to start quieting them down as the prompt screen undoubtedly displayed QUIET PLEASE. Once the audience had settled Aelin began her welcoming monologue. 

“Thank you so much,” she said, her smile stretching wide, and there were cheers again. “Now, now, as much as I would love to stand here and lap up every bit of your admiration, I don't get paid for that.” There was a healthy amount of laughter. “I get paid to put on a show and what a show do we have planned for today. They’re always special, what am I talking about? It reminds of something my father used to say, slightly inappropriate but I think—”

The strum of a guitar interrupted her and Aelin made sure she looked affronted even though she knew exactly what was going on. When the the chord turned into music she sent a confused look to the audience a millisecond before they broke out in raucous cheers. Aelin whirled around  to see Rowan strutting out, centrestage from where she had been standing moments before with the smallest of smug smiles on his face. He was looking down at his guitar and Aelin put her hands on her hips to show her displeasure. Rowan had the gall to wink at her. If he wasn’t careful he’d give the whole gig away. 

Even though it wasn’t his job, it was Fenrys who darted out from the wings and dropped a mic and stand in front of Rowan, and then he was gone again. It became a stand off, Rowan playing while he challenged her with a look that told her to get off his stage, even though it was her stage. 

He had to win for the whole ploy to work, so Aelin gave an overexaggerated and exasperated sigh, her hands falling to her sides as half turned to the audience as she said, “I guess I know when I’m not needed.”

It was hard, but Aelin withheld her own smile as she gave Rowan the limelight. He hadn’t stopped playing, the chords effortlessly coming from the instrument and he never missed a beat. Aelin found a spot by the foot of the low steps near her interview platform, right beside Fenrys who had decided not to head out of sight. He nudged her with his elbow and winked. Aelin tried not to look too pleased with herself. 

The tempo picked up and Rowan readied himself in front of the microphone. Aelin’s breath caught in her chest, it always did in the anticipation of the song beginning. It always happened when Rowan was about to sing. He closed his eyes, grounding himself to the melody and then his deep voice filled the studio.

I found a love, for me

Darling, just dive right in and follow my lead

Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet

“Sweet?” Fenrys muttered under his breath.

Aelin tried very hard not to snort and ruin Rowan’s performance. “Artistic licence. Now hush” 

'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love

Not knowing what it was.

They might not have been kids but they were young and stupid enough to mistake their mutual animosity for other feelings that were way at the other end of the spectrum. When they had admitted to their true feelings it was like Aelin’s entire world had fallen into place. Rowan was everything she wanted and she had just been too willfully ignorant to see. Thank the gods they had come to their senses. Eventually. 

I will not give you up this time

But darling, just kiss me slow

Your heart is all I own

And in your eyes, you're holding mine

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark

With you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass

Listening to our favourite song

When you said you looked a mess

I whispered underneath my breath

But you heard it

Darling, you look perfect tonight

Aelin remembered that night, Rowan had surprised her after she’d been deep cleaning her house all day. It was the first time that Rowan had seen her so dishevelled. Her cheeks had burned, he didn’t notice, just sweeping into her kitchen to make dinner. They had sat outside, eating on a blanket, and after Rowan had pulled her to her feet to dance under the night’s sky, the cooling grass beneath their feet. 

The backing curtain rose, revealing a small band to accompany Rowan and his guitar playing. The music swelled to new heights and Aelin was reminded of just how much she loved this song.

Well, I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know

She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home

I found a lover, to carry more than just my secrets

To carry love, to carry children of our own

Unconsciously Aelin’s hand drifted to her stomach. It was an unconscious gesture, but how could she not when he was singing about that. 

We are still kids, but we're so in love

Fighting against all odds

I know we'll be alright this time

Darling, just hold my hand

Be my girl, I'll be your man

I see my future in your eyes

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark

With you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass

Listening to our favourite song

When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful

I don't deserve this

Darling, you look perfect tonight

When the instrumental bridge began Rowan stopped playing, letting the backing band have their moment. Confused, Aelin sent him a questioning look with a raised eyebrow. He just pulled his guitar over his head, walked over and handed it over to Fenrys. Before Aelin could even ask aloud about whatever was going on right now Rowan had taken her hand and spun her into a dance. Fenrys’ laugh was audible and she knew they must have looked quite the sight. It was hard not to melt into his embrace, which came to her so naturally in this moment. They were still on camera, and they had images to maintain. Her the larger than life social star, he the cold and callous musician, although with this break in character Rowan’s was very quickly unravelling. Aelin knew this song by heart, he’d played it for her enough, so she knew when he had danced too long for that standard interlude, but the band covered him.

He did dance her back over to her spot by the stage before it was too obvious that he was stalling and took his guitar back. Rowan was effortlessly able to join back in, his voice impassioned as he started the final rendition of the chorus. 

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark

With you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass

Listening to our favourite song

I have faith in what I see

Now I know I have met an angel in person

And she looks perfect

I don't deserve this

By the gods he did. With everything that he had been through and what he had given to Aelin without question, he deserved every bit of happiness they had together. As her thoughts ran off the music slowed, Rowan closing out the song, strumming the last few chords himself and ending it on a truly acoustic note. 

You look perfect tonight

The applause was deafening, and Aelin joined in. Like he always did, Rowan went a little shy when accepting the adoration being rained down on him. His cheeks went a delectable shade of pink and he nodded at the crowd who just kept clapping. Aelin gave Fenrys a jab in the arm to get him moving off camera and out of the way. Knowing the camera was now on her, Aelin put on her signature teasing smirk, clapping as Rowan approached. Gods damn him, but he held out his hand like the gentleman to help her up the miniscule steps. His back was to the camera, convenient as he scowled at the towering heels she’d chosen to wear today. He would say they were a safety concern, Aelin was adamant they made her outfit.

They sat in the arms chairs, sinking into the plush cushions. Their eyes were on each other while they waited for the commotion to die down enough for the interview to start. Rowan must have made quite the impression because it took the QUIET PLEASE flashing longer than usual for the audience to follow the instruction. When they finally did Aelin grinned. 

“How dare you interrupt my monologue,” she said. 

Rowan had assumed his cool and aloof demeanour, and he just shrugged. “That song was more heartfelt than any spiel you were about to give.”

Aelin gasped. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

In fact, she’d woken him up with soft kisses that had led to more, and he’d left bed in the best mood possible. 

“Now that song,” Aelin said, drawing out each word. “It’s a love song, and from those beautifully written, heartfelt words, it feels like it might have been written about someone special.”

“If you have a question, Aelin, just ask it,” Rowan challenged. 

She lent forward, the thrill of the game exciting her. “I have many questions. First, what can you tell me about this,” Aelin waved her hand flippantly over her shoulder, where she knew a photo from Rowan’s Instagram was being shown.  “I showed this post a few months ago and I can tell you there were more than a few broken hearts in this studio.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the audience. Aelin shot a glance at the picture, admiring the large emerald set in a gold band. Rowan couldn’t have done better in picking the perfect engagement ring for her, Aelin had hated that she hadn’t been able to wear it and to show it off. The only public admittance of their relationship was this photo and because it only showed Aelin’s hand she had remained anonymous. There was just the widespread devastation that Rowan Whitethorn was officially off the market, the media sent into a tizzy because no one knew who his mystery woman was. It cost them both an exorbitant amount in NDAs but somehow they had managed to keep it all out of the public eye.

“My favourite comment is this one: WTF But you and Aelin! I shipped the two of you so hard. You’ve broken my heart,” Aelin read. “How could you break their heart like that, Rowan? Have you no compassion?”

“I don’t know how people can see the way we interact and imagine us together,” Rowan said.

“Shipping is the word you’re looking for,” Aelin explained. “You may be too old to be down with the lingo, unfortunately.”

Rowan scoffed, selling his arrogance. “I could say the same about you, I doubt kids today know what the word lingo means.”

“At least I’m not as old as you,” Aelin threw in a little bite to her words to make her anger believable. “I have that going for me amongst all my other admirable and desirable qualities.”

“If you say so.” She saw Rowan fighting his smile but he kept his composure in the end. “You just like anything that draws attention to you. Never mind how ridiculous and unfounded that attention might be.”  

“I see falling in love hasn’t done any favours to you manners,” Aelin teased.

“Maybe it’s just you, Aelin. You seem to make it your mission to make me as nasty as I can be." Rowan sounded both impatient and offended, a practised tone for him.

“What can I say, I love to ruffle your feathers. And It’s not my fault they’re so easily ruffled,” Aelin countered. “But I should at least offer my congratulations. An engagement is one thing but I’m more interested in what comes after.”

A video played on the large screen behind the two of them, the song Rowan had just sung playing again in lower quality with just him and his guitar. Aelin watched the grainy video footage, seeing him dressed in dark pants with the buttons of is white shirt rolled to his elbows, the rest of his features were blurred by the terrible quality of the camera work. His stand out feature was his voice as he sang to an unknown figure. The heads of the guests obscured the view of who that was, the only thing that was seen of her was her hands dancing above her head for a few moments. Fenrys had done a wonderful job purposefully terrible camera work.

There were some murmurs from the audience as they put together the other pieces of information the video showed them. It was more than clear what this delightful snippet was from, but Aelin began the dance anyway.

“That looks like you’re at a wedding,” she said. 

“My own, in fact,” Rowan confirmed. There were a few cheers at that, the news wasn’t new. It had been hard won but they had managed to fully control what information had gone out about the special event. “You should know, you were there.”

This time there were a few surprised gasps and muttering of what. The animosity between Aelin and Rowan was notorious, and although some tabloids tried to put a flirtatious spin on it it never seemed to stick. Their feuding held more entertainment and money. 

“I wasn’t invited directly, I came as a plus one for a very important guest.” Aelin lent back in her chair, consciously keeping her hands on the arms of it. “It was a magical affair and a wonderful night. I must say though, I think you could  have done better. You’re worth millions after all.”

Rowan’s eyebrows rose with indignant surprise. “Care to elaborate?”

“Well, the venue for starters,” Aelin said. “It felt like a prison inside, all those high walls and artificial lighting. Why were we punished for your success?”

“I’m a private man, as you well know. There’s certain things I can’t compromise on to maintain it.”

“And the colour scheme,” she made a disgusted sound. “So basic. Green and gold? Sounds like the colour scheme for a sports team.”

There was a chuckle from Rowan at that. “I didn’t know you paid attention to such things.”

“You’d be surprised at what I pay attention to,” Aelin said with a flirtatious wink. “That dress. Stunning. Couldn’t have chosen a more stunning piece of art.”

“At least you have one positive thing to say,” even though he sounded completely unimpressed. “She was stunning as ever, even though wedding planning did make her kind of a diva.”

Aelin lent a hand on her chin, a smile quirking up the side of her mouth even though she wanted to insist the contrary. “Pity about that, though I’d say your temperaments match. Or more likely she realised it was your sorry ass that she was marrying and didn’t want you to face the embarrassment of being left at the altar. I think you should thank her for that kindness.”

“Anything else that didn’t meet your expectations, your Highness?” Rowan made sure to add an edge of mocking to his voice, but Aelin could see the mirth dancing in his eyes. 

Aelin tapped her chin, sending a conspiring look to the audience as they sat on the edge of their seats waiting for her next biting quip. “The wine, I would have chosen better.” That held some truth, because Aelin hadn't exactly participated in the trying before buying. 

“You didn’t even drink any,” Rowan said, almost ruining everything by laughing. They would need to wrap this up quickly before he gave them away completely. This man couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. 

“That,” she drew the word out as a warning, “was because I heard it was so terrible I didn’t even bother with it. Now let’s get back to your lovely little song.”

“If you’d like,” Rowan added callously. 

In return Aelin sent him a wry smile. “I understand it was for your wife. A serenade for her on your wedding day.”

Rowan just nodded. There was a call of but who is she from the audience. Host and guest both pointedly ignored it. 

“The lyrics are beautiful, and obviously come from the heart. She must be a very lucky woman to have your devotion.” Then Aelin turned towards the audience. “Who knew Rowan Whitethorn could be such a softy, even his vows had me in tears.”

There was no word of a lie there. As Rowan had declared his love to her, and promised to honour and care for them as long as he lived, Aelin couldn’t keep back the tears. Her father had to pass her his pocket square so she could dab the tears away without ruining her makeup. 

“Over all, it was quite the party,” Aelin said. 

Rowan snuck her a secret smile. “It was.”

“I’d say the party really started once the bride and groom left,” Aelin mused.

“Did it just?” Rowan said in that dry way of his.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, trying not to remember too vividly how they had gone back to their room and really celebrated lest she blush on camera. “Your presence has that kind of impact.”

Rowan had to look down to hide most of his smile as he shook his head at her antics. It really was time to wrap it up before he lost all restraint and just blurted everything out because Aelin teased too hard and he bit too quickly. 

“Where is your shiny new wedding ring anyway? It just about blinded me at the reception,” Aelin said. 

This was the predetermined phrase that would uncover them at last. For nearly two years Aelin and Rowan had managed to keep their relationship private and out of the public eye. They were about to undo all their hard work, but it was about time and most definitely worth it. Bringing their relationship to light would save them from all the speculation and rumours that continuously surrounded them. Not completely, there would always be gossip of cheating and the like, but it would be nice not to hide anymore. 

Rowan shifted so that he could reach into his back pocket and then showed off his ring, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. “I took it off to play, didn’t want it getting in the way.”

Even though they had no idea what they were anticipating, the audience seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for something to happen. Rowan slipped his ring onto his finger then looked right at Aelin. 

“I’ve got yours, too,” Rowan said, this time reaching into the pocket over his heart. There was tittering from the audience, Aelin struggled to keep her face neutral. “I found them on the bathroom counter, I thought you might want them.”

The was a singular, very high pitched WHAT from someone in the audience. Rowan held out his hand to her, palm up with the emerald on full display. 

Biting her bottom lip to stop her grin was futile and Aelin only had eyes for Rowan as she said, “Thank you, but I’d left them there on purpose.”

Rowan was grinning too, his eyes darting down to her stomach. “Why?”

“Well, I couldn’t get them on,” Aelin said casually, risking a glance at her audience who looked like they were ready to explode. “My fingers were too swollen. Tends to happen when you’re pregnant.”

Absolutely pandemonium broke out. Aelin stood, watching as the audience collectively lost their mind and smoothed her hands over her dress, showing off the small bump she had hidden beneath. Everyone was on their feet, cheering and clapping, there were whistles and a few screams. She smiled, caressing her bump affectionately again. It had been difficult but they had managed to keep the pregnancy out of public knowledge. A few of the tabloids had run stories about her looking pregnant but when nothing came of it, they just gave up. Aelin had faced pregnancy allegations every other week for years, this time it wasn’t a lie. She was just too good at keeping secrets. A baby had been a surprise, to say the least, but not at all an unwelcome one. The wardrobe department had a hard time dressing her lately in an attempt to hide the pregnancy and to keep her comfortable. Even more NDAs were handed out over it.

And then Rowan stood too, off script. He swept an arm around her waist and she went willingly into his embrace. Rowan tucked her hair behind her ear and gave her a sweet smile, the kind that was just for her, his eye crinkling in the corner. When he kissed her Aelin let him, returning it fervently. It was probably too amorous for day time television but Aelin couldn’t find it in herself to care—not when Rowan whispered I love you and looked at her like that. 

Once the chaos died down Rowan had been sent off and Aelin had to focus on her real job, Getting through the rest of the show had been a feat. As soon as Rowan had left the stage Aelin pretended like nothing had happened. The next segment had been promoting various popular books, followed by video chatting a school telling them her studio was providing them with iPads. All in all, it was a fantastic show, but now that it was over she was free to return to her dressing room.

Rowan was waiting for her, arm draped over the back of the couch and looking far too good. Aelin tried not to slam the door but her excitement got the better of her. Kicking off her heels she wasted no more time before climbing into Rowan’s lap, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him. His hands went to her waist, his thumbs brushing over her sides. 

When they finally broke apart Rowan said, “You could have let up a little.”

“I’m still mad about it being a shotgun wedding,” Aelin pulled back and narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t know if it was the hormones or purely the lyrics but I had to blink back the tears.”

“How is that my fault? You’ve heard that song a hundred times.” Rowan was giving her a look that only insisted that part was not his fault.

Aelin ignored it completely. “And you almost gave it away so many times, like when you told the world I wasn’t drinking.”

Rowan's deep chuckle rumbled through his chest and he urged her closer. “We were heading in a wedding direction anyway. We just needed a little bit of a push. You can’t blame me for getting a little excited over telling everyone.”

His hand rested over her stomach, right over the tiny thing that had given them much more than a little push. Finding out that they were pregnant had accelerated all the plans they had for their future. They didn’t see the point in waiting to get engaged or prolonging the time between that and a wedding. They had chosen each other, and like their vows had said, they were in this together until whatever end. Still, the joke of the shotgun wedding was too funny to let go of, and there had also been the fact she hadn’t been able to wear her engagement ring outside the house. It was beautiful and deserved to be shown off. 

The feeling of Rowan’s lips making their way up her neck drew her back to the present. “I worked it out.”

“Worked what out?” Rowan asked but wasn’t deterred by her shift in topic and kissed her jaw.

“That we most likely conceived on this very couch,” Aelin explained. “You were busy with your tour and I checked the dates and you were only in town for those few days.”

Rowan stopped kissing her to laugh. “Is this a lucky couch then?”

“Hmm, I dunno,” Aelin said, her hand slipping into his hair tugging it just the way he liked. “I certainly like to get lucky on it.”

Rowan groaned, leaning in so that scrape his teeth over the sensitive skin of her neck. “Did you lock the door?”

The words were whispered onto her skin and made Aelin shiver. All resolve lost, she melted against Rowan, sighing as his hands wandered over her body. Gods, she needed him, her blood still thrumming from all the excitement of the interview. And she could feel how much Rowan needed her, a teasing roll of her hips only intensifying the situation. 

“There’s no need,” Aelin said and Rowan pulled back enough to see his face. “To quote our dear friend Fenrys, after all that foreplay no one would even risk disturbing us right now.”

Rowan’s grin was near feral. “No more wasted time then.”

They both moved, meeting in the middle for a kiss that set every fire within them blazing. The couch it seemed, would prove to be more than useful yet again. And like Aelin had said, lessons had been learned and no one interrupted them… this time.

~~~~~

Hope you like that one! I know I certainly did

[robininthelabyrinth]

Meng Yao somehow ends up training under Baoshan Sanren

ao3

Meng Yao had long ago learned that things that seemed too good to be true often were. He wasn't sure why arriving at Lanling City and seeing the grandeur of Jinlin Tower had temporarily wiped it from his mind. 

Did you really think that you'd be welcomed with open arms? he sneered at his stupid former self. Did you think that they'd give you a chance to prove yourself just because Mother said they would? Since when was Mother right about anything?

He'd gone straight to Jinlin Tower to present his pearl and waited to be recognized. The guards had told him that he was lucky: he'd arrived a day after the (legitimate) young master's birthday, where there'd been a great big celebration, managed from start to finish by the Sect Leader’s jealous wife - he would've been thrown out on his ear for sure if he'd arrived that day. Meng Yao, whose birthday it had also been and who had only arrived a day late because he'd stopped on the side of the road to celebrate it by himself, had smiled awkwardly and said nothing. 

He'd said nothing as they talked about how wonderful things would be once he got granted the promised audience with the Sect Leader, his father, and he said nothing, too, as they turned on him, biding him up and dragging him away under the indifferent eyes of that selfsame father.

"They say that the immortal mountain is fond of abandoned children on the verge of death," the Sect Leader of Lanling Jin had remarked. “Perhaps she will find it in her heart to answer our petitions if we accompany them with a gift.”

Meng Yao said nothing. Even if they hadn’t gagged him, there wouldn’t have been any point – he had a silver tongue and eyes capable of seeing what others wanted, a knack for making himself useful and no pride in doing so, but that still required him to have a chance.

His father had never had any intention of giving him a chance.

He was taken away.

While on the road, still tied up and even collared to the carriage to ensure he didn’t try to save his wretched life by jumping off and running away, he heard the speculation of the guards, which explained a few things. It seemed that Baoshan Sanren had had a female disciple come down the mountain some time ago, Cangse Sanren, and that she had piqued Jin Guangshan’s interest. One guard had believed that Jin Guangshan was in love with her, while another scoffed and pointed out that he had all the women he could ever want; a third, quietly, suggested that their sect leader’s interest had come, most of all, from the lady’s offhand comment that she had known Yanling Daoren personally despite the centuries separating their generations.

Meng Yao thought this last, if true, was the most likely. For the man who could buy anything, what else could he want but more time to enjoy his riches? Men throughout history had longed for immortality.

Men with power, anyway. Men like Meng Yao weren’t even qualified to long to live until tomorrow.

When they arrived on whatever lonely mountaintop the Jin sect had decided was the most likely to be near Baoshan Sanren’s mountain, the guards beat him until he was on the verge of death, just as his father had ordered – breaking bones, leaving bruises – and then left him chained to a tree and shivering, with a scroll clasped in his numb hands, as they trooped back down the mountain, their task completed.

He’d hoped, briefly, that they would go too far and put him out of his misery, but he’d never had any luck. It would be the slow death of dehydration and starvation for him, or maybe some passing vicious animal looking to try out its teeth.

“Grrrrrr!”

Meng Yao blinked. That was not a vicious animal.

“Hello, there,” he said to the child that had burst through the bushes with the smile that came to his lips as naturally as breathing. Where there were people, there was hope – maybe he could convince this child to go get an adult that would be able to help him. “What are you doing here, little master?”

The child growled at him, stamping his feet.

“Oh, I see! My mistake. What are you doing here, oh proud and vicious beast?”

The child blinked, then giggled, putting his hands on his round cheeks to hide his blush. “I’m playing,” he said cheerfully. “We’re still high enough here that it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Xiao Xingchen!”

“Oops. That’s my shixiong.” Xiao Xingchen put his hands behind his back and looked guilty. “I’m not supposed to go out too far…”

Meng Yao felt a spark of amusement underneath all his pain. He’d always liked children, no matter how annoying they could sometimes be, and this was a particularly attractive child, with features that looked like they’d be beautiful one day. “It’s all right,” he said. “Beasts don’t recognize boundary lines. How were you supposed to know?”

Xiao Xingchen looked thoughtful.

“Ah, shidi, there you are!” A young man stepped through the brush. He was tall and striking in appearance, with features a little too strong to be described as classically handsome, and he was dressed all in black, with a sword at his waist that was just as black. “What are you doing this far down?”

A strange statement, to Meng Yao’s mind. He’d seen the path the guards had dragged him up – they were already virtually at the mountaintop, and this was the tallest mountain around. How much further ‘up’ could they go? A few steps, at most?

“I’m a beast!” Xiao Xingchen said excitedly, curling his fingers into claws and showing off his best growl.

“Beasts aren’t allowed to go down either,” the older man scolded, and Xiao Xingchen pouted.

“Beasts don’t recognize boundary lines,” he said righteously, then pointed at Meng Yao. “He said so!”

The young man turned to look at Meng Yao, seeming to see him for the first time.

“Did he,” he said neutrally, clearly observing Meng Yao’s poor condition and the chain and collar that connected his neck to a nearby tree like a slave. Meng Yao shrugged, or tried to. “Gongzi, what happened to you?”

“A misfortune,” Meng Yao said, and glanced down at the scroll he was still clutching at his hand like a moron. The only thing his father had given to him, and it was to be delivered through his death. Was that all a father was? “If you could see it within your heart to release me, I would be grateful.”

“Who put you here?” the young man persisted in asking. “And why?”

Meng Yao didn’t especially want to put words to it. Putting words to it would make his father’s betrayal real…but who was he deluding? The betrayal was real.

“I have a message for Baoshan Sanren, the immortal master,” he said, smiling mirthlessly and nodding at the scroll in his hand. “My father understood that she only emerges from her mountain to find abandoned children on the verge of death, and so he decided to produce one. He has enough bastards that he could afford to spare a few, you see.”

A few of the more uppity ones, his father had said. The ones that didn’t know their place.

“That’s awful!” someone said – neither Xiao Xingchen nor the young man, since that voice was that of a girl in her teens, who at some point had sidled out of the forest as well. The young man swallowed a groan as he turned to look at her, but it was too late: she was grabbing at his sleeve and looking up at him with big round eyes. “Shixiong, we can’t just let that happen! We have to tell shifu about it!”

“We can’t make that sort of decision…”

“Shixiong!” the girl and the child both chorused. “Uphold righteousness!”

The young man groaned.

“All right, all right,” he grumbled. “If he agrees, we can tell shizun, and she can decide what to do about it…maybe if we’re really lucky, she’ll take offense to the whole idea and go down herself to make things right; that’ll show whoever sent this a thing or two. But probably not. You all know that right?”

They continued to beam at him.

“Ugh, fine. First things first, though. Shimei, will you break his chain?”

“Of course!” The girl had a horsetail whip at her belt, and when she snapped it outwards it cut straight through the metal of the chain with a force far beyond any normal item. A cultivator’s tool, Meng Yao thought wistfully, but he was too old to be a proper cultivator now – the most he could do would be to try to endlessly catch up, but that assumed some cultivation sect would take him in, when even his father had so ruthlessly rejected him.

His father, who might but probably wouldn’t be apparently taught ‘a thing or two’ by this young man’s master. Pity. The idea was appealing.

“What’s your name?” Xiao Xingchen asked.

“Meng Yao. Thank you for your kindness.”

“It’s not kindness,” the young man said with a sigh. “Don’t mistake it for kindness. If you come up the mountain with us, you can only go down again once in your life, and not for very long. Do you want to come with us, or do you want to make your way down the mountain yourself?”

Meng Yao’s legs were broken. There were vicious beasts and human bandits on the way down, twists and turns and endless misfortunes, and anyway he’d already done everything his mother could possibly ask of him when he’d gone to Lanling City and been so cruelly rejected.

“I’ll come with you,” Meng Yao said, having nothing to lose. “Thank you…ah…?”

“You can call me Yanling Daoren,” the young man said, and the name was familiar – where had he heard it? If only his mind were not so fogged with pain, he’d be able to remember. “Shimei is Cangse Sanren, and the youngest is Xiao Xingchen. You’ll be our shidi, I suppose, even if it’s tricky…oh, never mind. Shizun will figure out the ages, she always does. All right, up you go.”

He scooped Meng Yao into his arms.

They were warm.

“Last chance to change your mind,” Yanling Daoren warned.

Meng Yao shook his head.

“All right, then.” He started walking. Up the mountain, as mentioned. “I suppose, in that case, all I can do is welcome you to our sect.”

Meng Yao was going to ask where they were going – there really wasn’t much more mountain to go – but then he noticed that there was, actually. There was a lot more mountain, and all sorts of buildings: residences and training grounds and libraries and the like, in a style of architecture he’d never seen before, gaudy and colorful as a feathered bird.

“Shizun will want to see you first, of course,” Yanling Daoren said. “She always wants to meet the children, even if you’re a bit older than her usual.”

“I know,” Meng Yao said softly. “Too old to cultivate, right?”

“Not at all,” Yanling Daoren said, and laughed at Meng Yao’s surprise. “Maybe with other sect’s cultivation styles you are. You’ll find that things are a bit different here, when it comes to matters of age…you’ll need to start from the beginning, like Xiao Xingchen, but that’s all right. Who doesn’t like to be young?”

[ezekiel13]

Lamplight creation story told as if it were a myth by Fo4 MacCready

(I don’t write so sorry if I’ve made any mistakes)

It’s about 1,200 words

If MacCready was honest, visiting settlements with Nora was definitely one of his least favourite parts of his role as a “friend of the General”. But he could see some joy in it- for example, killing the gunners when they came to visit.

Unfortunately, it seemed that all there was to do this time was help shore up some defences, which Nora was busy doing with some of the Settlers, while MacCready was told to “find something to help out with.”

He would admit, Jamaica Plains was quite a nice place, even if the “treasure” was just a bunch of old world trinkets. Nora had seemed pleased with them, which he supposed was worth something.

In the end, helping out came to find him. He had just been cleaning his rifle in one of the mostly fixed up houses when a group of the settler’s children appeared. There had been six of them, with one around 10 leading the others in.

One thing had led to another, and they had sat around him, before the youngest- a girl aged approximately 4, if he had to guess- had asked him a question, “Can you tell us a story?”

Why they had decided he, the hired gun, had better stories than his pre-war boss, he didn’t think he’d ever know. He’d considered saying no, but at the end of the day, he didn’t have anything better to get up to.

He sighed, and begun to tell a tale he didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget, one he’d been told since before he could even remember, “210 years ago, south of here, in the Capital of America, there was a group of children on a field trip- which was not going to a field, but rather being taken by a teacher to visit an interesting place. They had been members of a school, known as ‘Early Dawn Elementary’ and 87 children,”

One of the young boys had looked up at him, “87 children? I know,” he looked around at her friends, pointing at them to count, “I know… 5 children!”

“Hmm- schools before the bombs were a lot larger.” That seemed to satisfy her, so he continued, “The children had been taken to visit a group of caves, known as the Lamplight Caverns. They had gone with their teachers, and some of their parents. For an adventure. What they hadn’t known at the time, was that it would end up saving their lives,” he paused, looking at the children’s faces, and remembering telling this same tale so many times,

“The class had been ready to leave when the caves began to shake rapidly. The lights flashed, and went dark, causing the children to panic and scream. One of the parents volunteered to see what had occurred, believing the now dark caverns to be a danger- what he hadn’t known was that they were the only place they were able to live. He returned after a few hours, his face pale and eyes wide. Him and all of the mungos-“

He stopped, realising that his audience was staring at him, before the eldest piped up, “What is a mango?”

MacCready laughed slightly, “A mungo? They’re adults. Anyone over 16, like myself, is a mungo.”

The group nodded solemnly, as if he had imparted worldly wisdom to them.

Seeing their acknowledgment, he continued the story, “The adults had huddled together, as he told the tale of what he had seen out of the caverns. His voice had quivered, stumbling over words as he explained what happened. Washington was destroyed. There had been large mushroom clouds all over the area. It was no longer Washington D.C. It was now the Capital Wasteland, and nobody was safe.

As the days past, the mungos left, one by one, to look for supplies. However, they stopped returning, until it was only the children and their teacher, Miss Delaney left. She had stayed in the caverns with the children, but knew they couldn’t continue, as their food was running scarce. She had to make a choice- risk everything by getting supplies, or die within the caves?

She chose to leave, telling the children that she would return with food, and that it would all be okay. It had been one month since the war. She never came back.

All hope was not lost, as one brave child, Jason Grant, protected them all. He wasn’t scared like the others. He told everyone that the caves were safe- it was only outside that was bad. He wasn’t worried. He became their leader, aged 10.”

The eldest child looked horrified at that, and the others were staring wide-eyed at him. MacCready wasn’t entirely sure why, he had been Mayor aged 10 after all, but then he remembered Nora’s horrified looks when he told her his life story. 10 year old mayors seem to scare people a bit.

He shrugged, “Someone had needed to be in charge, and everyone there was afraid. Their homes were gone- but they had each other. They would survive. He had been leading a group to look for supplies throughout the caves shortly after taking charge, and the group had found some mushrooms that glowed, a bright and sickly green. He had found them food!”

MacCready hesistated, and decided to not say where it is that the mushrooms came from. Their parents would probably not be happy if he shared about the influence of the… corpses on the mushrooms.

“The children were overjoyed, and life in the caves improved. They fixed the lights to celebrate, filling the caves with Lamplight once again, and becoming ‘Little Lamplight’ a town of safety.

Two months after the Great War, a group of children ventured deep into the caverns, finding a door. The children had banged and pleaded at it for days, begging entrance to what should have been a safe haven. A mungo on the other side had told them they were dead already. Jason made a choice. They didn’t need any mungos. They would do fine as just the Lamplighters. A wall was constructed to block off the Vault, to keep them safe from the mungos who couldn’t be trusted.

Three months after the world ended, the children had conspired, and held a vote, officially claiming Jason as the Mayor, on the 26th of January. Little Lamplight was their own city. A town of children. They were independent.

Nobody knew how, but word of the town of children had grown, and over the years many people had visited- mungos turned away, and children welcomed. It wasn’t uncommon to go to patrol and find a baby outside of the caves, but they managed. The children had a few books, and taught each other what they could.

6 years after settling in Lamplight, Jason and many of the original children found themselves becoming mungos. It was Jason who decreed they couldn’t stay- no adult did. If the Lamplight ones did, who knew what they would become? They left, saying they would create ‘Big Town’ for all of the Lamplighters who left. Eventually, Jason himself returned, giving a map with Big Town on.

He told them all how perfect it was, how aging out of Lamplight was a gift, because in Big Town they saw the sun every day! They ate foods from the wild and it was a safe haven.

Every Lamplighter wanted to join Big Town, but nobody truly wanted to leave. Little Lamplight was safe. New Mayors were elected, and trade was set up with nearby groups, as the world adjusted.

Big Town, and Jason himself became myths- a tale of a world that was, and who they had became. The lamps stayed lit every day, to honour the child who had saved them- us all.”

It had felt odd, to tell their story to children not in Lamplight. The last time he had told it, it had been to Duncan, just before he had to leave.

The children were all staring at him, and looking up, he noticed Nora was too. Ah. The pair of them probably had to leave.

[mystic-writings]

i laugh like me again (she laughs like you)

PAIRING — former wilbur soot x fem!reader, wilbur soot x fem!oc

SUMMARY — wilbur’s new girlfriend is so much like you, but entirely different all at once

WARNINGS — slight angst, wilbur questioning himself, finally a fic with no dialogue !! it’s a win and a first for me !!

WORD COUNT — 1,315

SONG — almost (sweet music) - hozier

NOTES — if your name's kate i'm sorry | also finally a fic with no in-chapter breaks i don’t have to worry abt picture limits for once | takes place around the summer/fall of 2020

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There was no denying that Wilbur was happy. 

After almost a year, he was finally happy. 

Meeting Kate was what Wilbur could call a damn miracle. After your relationship ended in shambles last October, of which he won’t go into detail, mostly because it was still a painful memory, he was happy to have Kate in his life, and so were all of his friends. He’d been so downtrodden for so long, and even if he showed his fans the happier side of him, and even his friends when he’d first met them, he hadn’t been able to truly feel it until he met her. 

It was by pure happenstance, really, and he could say that he owed it all to you (he couldn’t, though, at least not out loud. Not to anyone he knew.) Because if it weren’t for you, and the months he spent wallowing until your voice, echoing in the back of his mind, telling him that painting was a good way to get your feelings out, he never would’ve gone to the University’s painting program, and he never would’ve met Kate. 

Of course, just his luck, though, when his and Kate’s relationship was just beginning, he went to Germany with some friends and got stuck there during the lockdown. When he was finally able to get home, his apartment felt too empty. So, he spent almost every waking hour either streaming or on the phone with Kate. It worked well enough, until she was able to see him in person sometime in the summer. 

From there, things just… took off. His and Kate’s relationship kept growing, he got even more popular on Twitch, he was chatting with his friends all the time, and no one knew about Kate. Well, his friends did, but his audience didn’t. A lot of his fans were recent, but a big chunk of them had been around when you were still with him. And even if he didn’t publicly say anything when you’d broken up, a lot of his fans could sense what happened. Confirming it with a new relationship announcement just felt ingenuine to him. 

So, Kate was never mentioned on stream. She knew what Wilbur did, and eventually who he and his friends were, but she never quite cared for it. In fact, despite all her smiles, Wilbur could still see that small part of her that wasn’t too supportive of what he did, even if it kept them warm and fed. And he could still remember the judgement when he revealed his work to her. And he could still remember the argument that took place when he admitted that he almost dropped out of university for it. And the flashbacks to the one he had with you. 

Because somehow, even after so long, he could still see you in everything Kate did, and he hated himself for it. Because he should be focused on making memories with her, on building a life with her, not with all the things you and him did when you were together. But it was all he could see. Sure, in the beginning of the relationship his nerves were too busy blocking his mind with anxiety and excitement, and he didn’t have time to see anything but Kate and the prospects of a new relationship, but since it subsided, he couldn’t help it.

It started little by little. At first, he had made a joke on one of the dates he had taken her on after getting back from Germany and the restrictions had allowed it, and her laughter sent his mind reeling back to 2018, when you laughed at a movie scene while wrapped up in his arms on his couch. And then, when Kate slept over for the first time and he noticed that, even if she had been dyeing it any colour she could think of once a month, her hair still fell in the same way yours did when you leaned on your arms in bed. 

Little by little, from the way you both took your tea the same, to the fact that you both hated pickles on burgers, he noticed it. Kate may have made him feel like himself again, but she was still a lot like you. It was almost like an echo. The remnants of your presence, reflected in some warbled, almost-but-not-quite tone, bouncing back to him in the form of her. 

And with every reminder, Wilbur continued to hurt. Even if it was his fault you were gone, and he was the one that decided he didn’t deserve you, every reminder left a mark on his heart in the shape of you. He truly did like Kate, and those feelings grew with every passing day, but you’d been with him for so long he couldn’t forget you. It was like he couldn’t scrub your touch from his skin, your scent from his clothes, your smile from behind his eyelids. 

Slowly, day by day, though, it seemed that Kate was taking over. Your smile would flash between images of hers, and he began to differentiate your touch from hers, but the smell of your perfume; he knew there was no getting rid of it. 

He remembered when it happened, her finding your old perfume bottle. The smell had been lingering in his closet, some of it still imprinted on the clothes he hadn’t worn in a while. Kate had pulled one of his sweaters from the depths of the closet, a sweater he remembered last being worn by you. It almost covered Kate’s sleep shorts, swallowing her whole. He remembered she had remarked about the smell, but didn’t say anything specific. She knew the gist of what happened with you, and was kind enough to not bring it up often. Still, she had begun wandering Wilbur’s room, inspecting every aspect of it that she could get her hands on. It was her way of getting to know Wilbur without really asking him anything. He remembered hearing the clinking of the various cologne bottles on his dresser, and hearing her murmur the name of your perfume. 

With a single, curious puff, the smell engulfed the room, and Wilbur had to force himself to stay in the present. To not pretend that Kate was you, that you were still in his life, and that you were about to crawl into bed with him and curl up into his arms like you always used to. 

The scent still permeates every aspect of his life. 

Every hug, every nose nestled into the crook of Kate’s neck, every time he passed by her in the kitchen. How was Wilbur meant to forget you when she provided a constant reminder for him with every waking moment?

And every time he thought something like that, the guilt came rushing back. Because to Wilbur, he had no one to blame but himself. He should’ve thrown that bottle of perfume out the moment his mind made itself up on moving on, he should’ve looked for someone entirely different to you. But had he really moved on? Was he just trying to replicate a relationship so perfect that it didn’t seem real? Or did he really like Kate, his mind trying to trick him back into being alone, into ruining something good for himself again?

Sometimes, though, he wondered if Kate could see it. The fact that, occasionally, he’d linger too long or breath too deeply during a hug. Or how sometimes, if the strike on his heart when he heard her laugh was more painful, he wouldn’t smile with as much meaning. He wondered if she saw it all, the longing, the mourning, the pain, and simply didn’t bring it up. And if she did, and didn’t say anything, he didn’t know if it was to spare him from the pain of reliving it, or to spare herself from the pain of confirming what no one wants to hear from their partner. 

No matter how much he thought about it, though, Wilbur refused to voice it. Because he was worried that some part of him was right, that he was just trying to fill the hole in his heart that was shaped like you with Kate, and all he wanted was for it to not be true. 

So, for now, he’d continue like he had been, acting like Kate didn’t remind him of you, until one day, someday, she wouldn’t feel like the echo he’s been longing to keep around.

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