#kinda playing around with the tools | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

i-cant-sing · 5 months

Text

Time Traveller Au pt 5

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. AU masterlist is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Part 6 is here!

This is kinda long so bring your snacks along.

Baldwin and a woman- kissing.

You were in your room right now, fiddling with your time machine now that you had one tool to pry it open. Just 20 minutes ago, you had witnessed Baldwin and some girl kissing, and very swiftly you, turned and left the scene before either of them could notice you. You dont need to meddle in their business- why should you?

Its not like I actually want to stay here and confront him if he really did betray his future wife.

Someone knocked quickly on your door before entering in.

"Y/n!" Baldwin beamed as he ran towards you and picked you up, spinning you around. "Princess! I missed you!" He exclaimed, putting you down and kissing your forehead. Though he still kissed you with the same intensity as ever, you didnt feel the warmth as you usually did.

"Hello." You said monotonously, it was the best you could do to keep your voice stable. Baldwin, still in a daze, cupped your face in his hands and gazed lovingly at you.

"You are a sight for sore eyes." Shut up.

You looked away as Baldwin continued to stare into your soul. "So... how was your trip? Tell me all about it!" He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you further to him.

"It was fine." You replied, looking at the collar of his shirt. You refuse to look up into his eyes, lest you lose control of your temper. "Just fine? What about your family? Did you find them?" His voice held genuine concern.

You hummed, still not looking up. "I have found some clues, but I will need to go there again to find more."

Baldwin pouted. "Again? No. Being away from you for just 1 week already felt like a lifetime!" Oh I bet. Thats why you couldnt stop yourself from kissing some whor-

"I need to go, Baldwin. Its important for me to find them." You said with the same serious tone, and it didnt go unnoticed by him this time.

He tilted your chin up to meet his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" You tried to pull away, but his arms held you firmly. His eyes studied you again, and he wasn't convinced.

"Princess, tell me whats bothering you." You. You are bothering me.

As much as you wanted to say that, you didnt. Cheater or not, he still is the king.

Finally, you gave him a small smile. "I'm sorry, I'm just- tired from the travelling." He sighed in relief, using the back of his hand to caress the side of your face. "Oh, I bet you are darling. Why dont you take a nap now and I'll come fetch you for dinner?"

Baldwin threw you a feast on your return. Even though you had no appetite, you still joined him because you cant completely ignore him without raising suspicion. So, for now, you'll bide your time. You'll play the fool.

It just didnt make any sense. Why- why was he trying so hard to be affectionate with you? Why he wanted to marry you when he was interested in someone else? And before anyone says that maybe he's not that into her- um, back in this era, when everyone was conservative, even Baldwin was religious, he wouldn't just kiss any girl out of wedlock unless he was absolutely sure he was going to marry her.

"Y/n?" You looked up from your plate at Sibylla. Baldwin had invited his sister and Guy to celebrate your return. "Tell us, how was Egypt?"

You could feel Baldwin's eyes on you, but you didnt look his way. "It was good. Salauddin was a very good host, he had arranged for me to see the pyramids."

"Ah, how kind of Salauddin. I'll be sure to write him a letter and send him some gifts. What do you think, princess?" Baldwin offered, but you only gave a small hum and barely spared a glance his way before continuing to talk with Sibylla.

"My king, I do not think it would be wise to do that. The Muslims are our enemies-" Guy interjected but Baldwin shot him down with a look. Baldwin didnt even have to glare at Guy to intimidate him.

"I have brought some souvenirs for you. They're in my room- I'll show them to you later." You smiled at Sibylla who beamed back.

Dinner was mostly uneventful, or until dessert was served and Guy began choking on blueberry. "Guy!" Sibylla cried out as her husband began thrashing about from the lack of air. The servants tried to help him, slapping his back and all, but really what could they do.

Serves him right for trying to eat and start a propaganda against Muslims again. But alas, you needed Guy alive if you wanted to bring the downfall of Baldwin and Jerusalem, just as history had it.

So you walked over and pushed everyone away before performing Heimlich manoeuvre. It took a few minutes but the blueberry finally dislodged itself from his wind pipe and out.

"Oh! Guy-!" Sibylla rubbed his back as he coughed while a servant passed him some water. She smiled at you gratefully. "You saved him, Y/n! Thank you! You really are an angel!" Guy finally recovering from his coughing fit, pushed Sibylla's hands away and glared at you.

"She did not save me- I was not dying-!" He argued, but before Baldwin could defend you, you replied nonchalantly.

"I agree. You werent dying. This was just God's way of telling you to shut up sometimes. Hallelujah!" Baldwin had to cover up his laugh as everyone in the room automatically said "Hallelujah", not giving Guy a chance to retaliate.

Baldwin's eyes sparkled with amusement as he found you smirking.

You're a clever one.

Baldwin came to fetch you for breakfast the next day. He came to your room last night, just minutes after Sibylla had left, but one of your maids informed him that you had already went to sleep. Slightly odd, as the king would always wish you good night before you slept, but he suppose you were tuckered out from your long journey.

However, he was dumbfounded when he saw all your maids standing outside your room, whispering amongst each other.

"What is going on? Why are you not with the princess?" Baldwin asked, quickly waving them off as they bowed.

"Your majesty, the princess- um she has started her bloody flux."

"Her WHAT?!"

"Her monthly cycle." Oh. Periods. Baldwin sighed. He thought some terrible accident had occurred.

Then again, periods in medieval times were not a good news either. Sure, they did indicate fertility and all, but woman were still shamed about it, especially religiously. Some people believed that cramps and bleeding were a punishment for Eve's original sin. Others even believed that since one is bleeding for such a long time, then that person is "sick" and could transfer this "disease" to those in contact or even near mensturating women. A small minority even thought that this monthly flow was some sort of sorcery or curse that could ruin entire crop fields. Add on to that the lack of sanitary pads/tampons and no ibuprofen, and you get what would be a terrible time for women.

"Please inform the princess that I'm here-"

The maids shared a look. "Your majesty, it is not advisable to be near the princess when she is sick-"

"Inform the princess. Now." The maid's heart almost dropped at his tone, before following his order. Moments later, she returned looking even more nervous than before.

"Y-your majesty, the princess insists that she will see you herself when she is feeling better, for now she would like to rest." Baldwin frowned. Just how unwell were you? Are you- are you really that unwell or do you just not want to see him?

No. You wouldnt avoid him like this. He hasnt done anything wrong.

Baldwin looked at the maids again, who were waiting with bated breath. "Bring herbal medicines for the princess. Ensure the best care for her. Every need must be met." The consequences of not following his order didnt need to be voiced.

You returned back to tinkering with your time machine when you heard his retreating steps. Were you on your period? Yes. Were you so sick that you did not want to even look at Baldwin? No, but then again, your cramps hit worse on day 2 and your ibuprofen was burned away with your clothes.

Then again, PMS-ing or "working on your time machine" wasnt the real reason you refused to meet Baldwin. It did contribute to it, but deep down you knew you were still bothered by the fact that he kissed that woman.

You dropped your time machine on the bed exasperatedly. Clearly, you werent going to be able to focus on this as long as you didnt confront your feelings about the kissing. So, you became your own unpaid therapist.

First of all, was it really cheating? It was just a kiss- nope. You shook your head, deciding. It so was cheating! Especially considering the time period and how conservative everyone was.

Alright. Next question- was it intentional? You closed your eyes, trying to come up with excuses. Maybe he was drunk? No. Baldwin never gets that drunk, and even drunk, you highly doubt he's one to go for day time drinking. Perhaps that lady initiated the kiss? Yeah, thats possible. She kissed him, but- your lips pulled into a scowl as you recalled the sight. He didnt push her back for a good few seconds. Of course, you didnt stick around for long to see if he did, but still, Baldwin should've pushed her back. Maybe he had his back turned and she caught him by surprise- you sighed. No way. Baldwin's reflexes were too fast, to the point you think he probably has a sixth sense. He wouldn't have been caught off guard, or even let anyone get this close to him.

You rolled your eyes. Intentional or not, at the end of the day, the fact is that Baldwin didnt immediately push her away and smack her down on the ground.

On to the next query- who the hell was that lady? Because nobody would just go up to the king and kiss him, especially when said king made sure to announce his engagement to the entire world. So, she planned it. Yes, no one would dare to do that unless they knew they could get away with it. So maybe she's someone Baldwin knows. Personally. Maybe a childhood friend? An old bethrothed? Or his favourite whore because Baldwin isnt as innocent as he seems and decided to have a bachelor party while you were away?

And finally, the burning question- why did it bother me who he was locking lips with? You crossed your arms against your chest defensively. Why did it bother me so deeply? Was I jealou- You scoffed. No. Definitely not. Okay, maybe I am a little jealous. And who wouldn't be? Anyone in my shoes would understand. Perhaps I enjoyed his attention, its human nature. Normal psychology... yeah. Even if I wasn't going to return his affections ever, even if I never intended to marry Baldwin, of course I would still expect him to be loyal, He didn't know I was going to leave him! He shouldn't be kissing other women! He should've stayed loyal, stayed true to me, his fiancee!

You exhaled sharply, brows furrowing the more you thought about his betrayal. It was understandable for me to be pissed. Why? Because of Baldwin and his stupid lovey dovey words and his disgusting forehead kisses and his dumb big blue eyes that made me believe him.

And even if he didnt actually love you, you thought that at the very least- he liked you, especially when you had literally saved his fucking life.

Your nostrils flared. "Jerk." You whispered to yourself.

A knock came on your door.

It was one of the maids, bringing in something on a tray.

"His Majesty has sent some herbal medicines for you." You were a little surprised at the gesture, not because Baldwin did it. Ugh. No, you were surprised because in medieval times, people often withheld herbal medicines or anything that would relieve period pain purely because many believed that this pain was the punishment of Eve's original sin for all womankind. So- considering Jerusalem's religous history, you were surprised at the gesture.

"I have also brought in more cloth rags for you. Would you like me to help you change-" "No!" You said abruptly, heat rising to your cheek. Yes, you were using linen rags because you didnt have any pads with you. Of course, earlier you had futuristic gadgets and medicines to deal with this situation, but with all of them burned to ashes, you had no choice.

"Oh. My apologies princess. I thought you'd like some privacy so I excused protocol, but I can have your ladies in waiting come and assist you-" "Please stop talking." You begged. "Its... fine. I can do it myself. Please leave the rags in my cupboard. And um-" You fiddled with your hands, trying to gather the words to voice your next request.

The sweet old lady smiled kindly at you. "Yes, princess?"

You looked down, cheeks flushing. "Can you... get me some more soap? And um, thicker rags?"

"Soap? Oh, I'll have the bath prepared right away-"

"No, not body soap. Soap for... washing my clothes." The maid nodded understandingly. "You can give me your stained clothes, princess. I'll wash them myself."

"Im sorry-" She waved you off. "No worries. I should've asked. Its just- woman here usually dont have heavy flows. I'll arrange more rags. If you dont mind me asking, how long does your flow last?"

"Sev-" You were going to say seven days but then realised the more days you added, the less you'll have to see Baldwin, or anyone else really and that will buy you more time to work on your machine. "Ten, sometimes twelve days."

The kind lady's eyes bulged a little. "I-! My apologies, princess! I- I was just caught off guard. Its um- well, its just girls here get shorter flows. The longest I heard was 5 days." Of course, in medieval times, menstrual cycles were shorter due to poor diet and more frequent child bearing.

"10 to 12 days... princess, I apologise for asking this, but have you considered that you might be bleeding excessively because of a disease? Shall I fetch a physician?" She asked with concern.

You shook your head. "No. I have always gotten them this long and I had myself checked by a physician. She said its normal, especially where I'm from." The maid nodded, satisfied that you're not bleeding to death.

Baldwin was in his study, working on some official documents when your maid knocked on his door.

"Your Majesty." She bowed gracefully as Baldwin smiled at her, standing from his seat to walk up to her, embracing her in a warm hug.

"Lady Margaret, how are you?" Lady Margaret used to be his royal nanny for a long while and took care of him even when he had contracted leprosy. She was practically a mother figure to him, especially when his own mother died. When Baldwin became engaged to you, he had asked her to be your senior lady in waiting, which will be her official title once you are wed to him. For now, she is your head maid. Baldwin trusted her the most with you. She had a comforting presence, and he was sure that while she took care of you, you would also find comfort in her the same way he used to.

"I'm good, your majesty." She smiled softly. "I just served the princess lunch."

"Hm, and how is the princess now?" The concern in his voice warmed her heart.

"The princess is well now. She's resting at the moment, though I feel a little concerned."

His heart skipped a beat. "Why?"

"Princess Y/n told me about her cycle time." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "It seems that she will suffer through this- diseased period longer than most others."

"How long?"

"Ten or twelve days." His eyes went saucer wide. From what he's heard, the normal duration is often 2 or 3 days, maybe 5 for some. But this?

"Summon the physici-" "I offered, your majesty. But she insists that she already had herself checked and that this is her normal cycle." Lady Margaret informed him, before continuing on to ease his worries. "She seems very knowledgeable about her body, and she is handling it pretty well for now."

"For now?" She nodded. "Of course, only time can tell if the pain increases in its intensity. All we can do is offer our help and pray that this bloody flux passes smoothly and swiftly."

Baldwin pondered over her words for a moment, his brows still furrowed slightly before he finally spoke again. "Please summon the royal physician. I would like to talk to him." He ordered before leaving his study to go to the royal library.

The next day, as expected your cramps hit. You had no plans to move an inch today, tossing and turning as you clutched your abdomen, eyes screwed shut in pain.

Somebody knocked on your door. Its likely one of the maids, probably to bring you food or something.

"What?" You called out, pulling the covers over your head. You're in no mood to interact with anyone. You heard the door open and footsteps entering. You exhaled, barely suppressing the painful groan. "Please can you go right now and get me some of the herbal medicines you had given me yesterday- and no, no food. I'm too nauseous."

You heard the person clear their throat, making you frown. Why haven't they left? Oh, please this better be not some "royal protocol" shit where they withhold the drugs from you.

You whipped the blanket off you, eyes still closed as you raged off. "Unless you want me to continue to feel like I have a iron poker stuck up in my spine while my soul leaves me from my feet, you will get me those herb-" you stopped as you opened your eyes to see-

"Baldwin?" He stood there with worry spread across his face.

"Is it... really that bad?" He asks in a low volume, as if afraid that noise would hurt you. In his hands, he held a tray that had a bowl. Walking up to your side, he set the tray on your side table, and thats when you saw the bowl of soup on it.

"Why are you- you're not supposed to be in here." You informed him. "I'm sick-"

"I know." Baldwin began sitting down on your bed, making you scoot back to give him space. He scanned your face briefly, making note of the tired eyes. He raised his hand to touch your forhead, but you turned your face away, making him halt. Why... were you avoiding his touch?

"Princess?" He called you, but you didnt turn to look at him opting to answer by keeping your eyes fixed on your fingers fiddling with the covers. "I'm not well- you shouldnt be near me, or you'll risk getting sick-"

"I'll take the risk." He announced as his hand found its way to your forehead first, and then caressed your cheek. "You took the risk for me too, remember?"

I did. You stared at him. And for what, you prick?

Taking your silence as a sign, Baldwin picked up the bowl of soup and brought the spoon up to your lips.

"I'm not hungry."

"I know, but this will help with the pain and nausea. I promise." He gently nudged the spoon against your lips again, and you parted your lips as the aroma of rosemary and oregano hit your nose.

The soup tasted good and you wouldn't admit it out loud, but it did warm your soul as it slid down your throat. It was earthy and creamy, and just what your cramping body needed.

"Its nice, hm?" He asked, smiling as you gave him a single nod. "I had the kitchen make it with my own recipe."

"Your recipe?"

"Well, I told them about what ingredients to add, ones that would be beneficial for your body and soothe some of your ache. They had to tweak it a bit to make it palatable." Baldwin explained. "And how did you know what ingredients to add?" You interrogated. Did he make it for his lover? Or stole the recipe from her?

"Oh, I just researched it." "Researched?" He nodded, feeding you another spoon. "I read some books."

You couldn't help but scoff. "So what? You're an expert on periods now?"

He chuckled, shaking his head as he scooped up some more soup to feed you. "Of course not! I cant be an expert by spending after only researching for a day. Sure, I summoned the royal physicians to educate me more on the topic but I dont think he knows much."

He spent a whole day... reading about periods? You turned your gaze away from him, choosing to focus on the wall behind him instead. "That's obvious. Just how much could a man know about the female body?"

Baldwin's eyes twinkled. "Exactly my thoughts, princess." He fed you another spoon. "That's why I'm having a royal body of physicians solely focused on studying the female body and affect of medicine built. It will consist of the best physicians, both men and women, from around the world study and work on the diseases concerning the female body. I'll fund it personally."

"What? Why?"

He looked at you dumbfounded. "Obviously for the same reason you said. Currently not much is known about a woman's body, so why not? I don't want you to be suffering again because of my lack of knowledge. I truly do feel helpless when I see you in pain." He confessed sadly.

Liar.

He set the empty bowl to the side before taking your right hand in both of his. "Please, let me know how can I help you? My love, my beautiful princess, it hurts me to see you in this torment." Baldwin said as he kissed the back of your hand gently.

You stared at his face, at those blue eyes of his. How can he- how can he lie with such conviction?

You pulled your hand away from him, looking away (which now that you think about- why am I avoiding his eyes? I didnt do anything wrong!).

"I wish to be alone, Baldwin."

In your peripheral vision, you could see the way his face dropped, and though you should've felt delighted, you felt rather awful- as if you had hurt a child.

It only made things worse when he whispered. "But... why?"

Still avoiding his eyes, you replied. "I- I adjust better to this- this state when I'm alone. I just need to rest, that's all. Some peace and quiet." You convinced yourself that you only explained to him just to get him to leave.

Had you looked at him, you would've seen the sorrow on his face.

"O-of course, princess. As you wish."

He left.

The next 3 days were uneventful for you, mostly because you didnt leave your room and- Baldwin didnt return to disturb you.

Which is good. You though to yourself, because it finally gave you enough time to not only work on your time machine but also work on your plan to right the timeline as it should be.

Which is why, today you had decided to leave your room. Of course it helped that Lady Margaret had brought in cotton for you to make a DIY sanitary napkin.

"Where did you get this?" You don't recall cotton being grown easily in cooler climates.

Lady Margaret smiled as she made your bed. "His Majesty had it imported from Sicily."

Your eyes went wide. "How? Sicily is- thats far away!" She chuckled at you shock. "Yes, but I think this sicilian cotton had made its way to Egypt, and perhaps His Majesty acquired it from Sultan Salauddin."

You looked at the large amount of cotton packed into bags in your room. "He bought this much?" Lady Margaret followed your gaze to the pile sitting in the corner, and mistook your surprise for disappointment.

"No, dont worry princess. King Baldwin had bought bales of cotton! They're stored away for future use." Your jaw dropped.

Bales? Baldwin ordered BALES OF COTTON?! You gasped internally. If he had THAT much cotton imported from Egypt, Salauddin surely would've asked for the reason because he would suspect that Baldwin is planning to use it for military strategy or attack. But you know Baldwin, his dumbass would've spilled to Salauddin, his off field bestie who he confides in about everything, about your periods.

You want to crawl into a hole in ground and die. Right now.

But... you fucked up history, so dying of embarrassment will have to wait.

"Lady Margaret, I need some fresh air so I'll be either taking a walk in the garden or you'll find me in the royal library ." You said, adjusting your clothes in front of the mirror. "Please make sure that neither my maids nor my knights are to follow me. I- I need some time to breathe or I will lose my mind if I feel anyone breathe down my neck about some royal protocol. I'll be back before lunch." You left before she could protest, though you doubt she will when she saw how agitated you were.

You had walked towards the west hall where you were hoping to find that big headed buffoon-

You heard his obnoxious laughter before you saw him.

Guy was standing in the middle of the hall, looking ugly as hell as he smirked at some poor maid struggling to break free from his grasp.

"Oh come on, you wench, give me a kiss-"

"Guy, let her go." Startling him, the maid took the chance and ran off. Guy turned around, glaring when he saw you. "What do you want?" He grumbled, running a hand through his hair frustratedly, looking back to see if the maid was still there or not.

"Quit it." You scolded him, before walking towards an empty room, nodding at him to get in. He grinned as you strode in. "Ah, so you're jealous? Well dont you worry darling, I can give you a kiss to-"

"I would rather burn myself alive and be crucifed than even be rumoured that you dared to touch me with your disgusting paws." You remarked, walking away from him to create distance between you two. "I have a proposal for you that would interest you."

Guy grumbling, sat down on a chair and looked at you expectantly.

"I have a plan to make you king." His eyes went wide.

"I- I- what?!" He stood up. "I dont want- this is treason!" He yelled, pulling out his sword and aiming at you. You stood steadfast, unaffected. "And this isnt? If you kill me, who do you think will end up in the dungeons?" You sighed. "Put it away, Guy, before you embarrass yourself any further."

You began explaining your plan. "You and I both know you were just waiting for Baldwin to roll over and die when he had leprosy. I know you want to be king, and... I can help you with that."

He stared at you, trying to figure out if this is a trap. "I... I deserve to be king. I was promised the throne. Thats why I married Sibylla!" He complained. Honestly, what the fuck does Sibylla see in this piece of cow dung?

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you continued. "I agree, thats why we should make an alliance-"

He scoffed. "An alliance? With you?" He said with such disgust, you didnt know whether it was because it was you were a woman, or because you were- well, you. "Why would I need you?"

"Because Guy... you're too dumb to pull this off on your own. No offense." He was offended, so you continued before he could start talking shit again. "Guy, if you become a little open minded for just a few minutes and hear me out, you'll find my proposal very useful." And by some miracle, he stayed quiet and let you present your plan.

When you were finally done explaining, he looked pretty convinced. But of course, he would rather stab himself than admit that outloud.

"Your plan... can work, but it'll take an awful lot of time." He said.

You leaned against the wall, and crossed your arms. "Good things comes to those who wait."

"I still think we should do it my way." You rolled your eyes at his insistence. "Guy, do you know how stupid it sounds when you suggest that we lock Baldwin in a room full of lepers? He cant get leprosy again."

"Well, why not?!"

"Because I cured him." He scowled at your answer. "What about measles? Or yellow fever-"

"Baldwin cant get sick. Ever." Well, technically he could get sick but its highly unlikely because the medicinal vial he drank when you gave him your water had all the vaccines in it, so Baldwin's immunity is pretty invincible right now. You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Look, if we follow my plan, then Baldwin will die a hero, no one will suspect you of anything, and you still get to be king!"

He seemed to contemplate for a moment before narrowing his eyes at you. "And what do you get out of it?"

"Freedom." Guy scoffed. "You want freedom over being Queen of Jerusalem, the Holy Land? Do you think I'm stupid?!"

"Those are two different questions. But yes, to both." You smirked as he got mad. "Okay fine. I'm doing this for... revenge."

"Revenge?" You nodded. "I love someone else, and Baldwin doesnt love me either. He only wants me because of my "healing abilities." You lied, but this is the only way to convince Guy. "So what do you say? Are we in an understanding?" You asked him.

Guy smirked, nodding.

You were on your way towards your chambers when you saw her again.

Her. The woman who kissed Baldwin.

The raven haired lady was leaving her room and hadnt noticed you standing at the end of the corridor. She pulled her hood up, looking around hastily before leaving towards the East wing of the castle.

Where Baldwin resided.

You had no reason to, but before you could stop yourself, you were entering her room.

Might as well check the place where Baldwin's been hiding his lover all this time.

It was an average sized room, nowhere near as lavish as your or Baldwin's was, but still better than what some of his royal guests would get. You walked towards her bed, sitting down as a sharp cramp hit you.

You groaned, holding your stomach as you buckled over and thats when you caught sight of a small box under the bed. You pulled it out and took of the lid. It contained letters. Many letters from different people, but mostly from Baldwin.

You looked at the dates- they've been in contact for years.

Your finger traced over her name.

"Charlotte." Huh. Sounds a lot like harlot-

You shook your head. You cant stay here for too long, dont want "Charlotte" walking in on you snooping. Since these letters were arranged according to dates, you picked a couple on the bottom, to read later and see what Baldwin has been upto after announcing his engagement.

Pocketing them in your dress, you turned to leave, opening the door only to come face-to-face with her.

She was startled, before looking confused as to who you were.

Of course, she doesnt know you. While you were trying to come up with an excuse, Charlotte's eyes fell on the huge diamond ring on your finger, and she let out a small gasp of realisation and immediately dropped into a graceful courtesy.

"Your Majesty! I'm sorry I didn't recognise you before!" Alright, maybe the ball can be in your court.

You flicked your wrist to signal her to rise. "That's quite alright..."

"Charlotte." She replied. You hummed. "Right. I apologise, I didnt know this was your room. I was just trying to find the library."

"Oh thats on the other side of the castle, in the North wing!" She said cheerfully, your eyes falling on that dimpled smile of hers.

"Hm, you seem to know a lot about the castle." You remarked, a little bitterly.

But perhaps Charlotte didnt catch on. "Oh yes! I spent a lot of time here as a child. My father used to work for the late king." She explained. You continued to study her face, that fair complexion, blemish free skin, rosy cheeks, and hazel eyes adorned with luscious lashes.

"Ah, so you must be close with King Baldwin." You finally said, and you didnt fail to catch the momentary shock in her eyes before she composed herself.

Busted.

"I- hahaha, um, no. We used to play sometimes when we were young, but then the late king passed away, and King Baldwin had to take up new duties." She chuckled nervously.

You sighed dramatically. "Pity. You seem like a lovely gal." Charlotte's eyes widened slightly. "Heavy is the head that wears the crown, I guess." You mumbled as you moved past her.

"Y-your Majesty!" She called out from behind you. You looked at her nervous face as she bit her lip, trying to come up with the words.

"Yes?"

"I- I need your help." She gulped. "King Baldwin-"

"Y/N!" You whipped your head around to find Baldwin at the other end of the hall, marching over towards you two. His pace was fast and... somewhat angry.

He came to a halt, taking your face in his hands before kissing your forehead hard. "I've been looking for you everywhere, princess!" He hugged you, pulling your head into his chest. "You had me so worried!"

While your head was shoved against his chest, you managed to catch a glimpse of Charlotte looking at Baldwin with desperation, and tears welling up in her eyes. After a little struggle, you finally managed to push yourself away from Baldwin, but he immediately took ahold of your arms, not letting you get away from him. Or-

pulling you away from Charlotte.

The lady continued to look at Baldwin with those barely suppressed anguish, but he refused to spare her a glance. Instead, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and began pushing you in the opposite direction.

"Come on, princess. You need to be in bed resting." He said to you, still not acknowledging her.

"Your Majesty, I need to talk-" Charlotte called out.

"We'll talk later, Lady Charlotte."Baldwin continued to pull you along with him. "Your Majesty-"

"I said- later." He finally looked over his shoulder, and you were astonished to see the mean glare he cast her.

Charlotte finally bowed her head in submission.

As you both reached your room, Baldwin seemed to finally return to his usual self. "Oh princess, I just felt like my heart dropped when I was informed you werent in your room! You know the physicians have been emphasising bed rest-"

"What just happened back there, Baldwin?" You cut off his rambling.

"What was what, dear?"

"Baldwin." Your tone turned dead serious. "Why did you pull me away from her? What was Charlotte going to tell me?"

He looked into your eyes, and you could see the gears turning in his head. "Do not lie to me, Baldwin." You warned.

His gaze turned sharp. "I just didnt want you to listen to anything she had to say." He sat on your bed, leaning forward as he clasped his hands. "She's... not in the right state of mind."

Ah. So she's "crazy".

"Why is she not in the right mind? And why is she here then?" You demanded answers.

Baldwin sighed, rubbing his temples. "You should not be burdened with that. I am... handling it." He got up, taking your hands in his. "Just trust me, princess. I am doing this to protect you."

Fuck. That.

You wanted to backhand him so bad, but you also did not want your head chopped off. Seriously though... the nerve men have. To not only frame Charlotte as being "off her meds" but also basically admit to cheating because he's doing this to "protect you", what kind of bullshit is that?

But alas, your time machine was still not fixed and if the most

"pious" man could be cheating on you with a smile plastered on his face, you didnt think any other man of this era would fair any better.

So you played the fool.

"Of course I trust you, Baldwin." You let him kiss your hairline sweetly, though you felt anything but.

It didn't surprise you the next day when you tried to look for Lady Charlotte, only to be told that she left the day before, in the dead of the night.

Baldwin couldnt be looking anymore guilty than he is at the moments. Seriously, kicking out your lover the day your fiancee finds out about her existence?

You scoffed. He can do whatever the hell he wants, you're going to be leaving for Egypt soon anyways.

Returning to your room, you decided to read the letters that you had stole from Charlotte's room yesterday.

The 4 letters you had managed to take, all were from Baldwin detailing that he would "help her" and "cares for her still", etc. However, the last letter, the latest one, dated to almost 10 days ago, the same time you were away in Egypt, told Charlotte that he had been cured of leprosy, and would be soon able to get her the "cure" too. But this letter, it was signed off as "King Baldwin IV" and not "Baldwin" as in other letters.

All the previous letters, all of them were months old, or at the very least, they were all written before he announced his engagement. Which meant that for more than a month now, Baldwin hadnt written to her, kind of surprising, since he wrote to her- according to the dates, at least every two weeks. So why hadnt he wrote to her after deciding to marry you? He never mentioned you to her before-

You looked up in realisation. Did... did Baldwin plan to use you as a universal "cure"? You exhaled sharply in disbelief. No, no way. Baldwin doesnt actually believe in all that religious mumbo jumbo about you being an "angel sent by God who has magic healing powers". But-

Your heart sank. Of course, he does. Thats why he's making that "royal body of physicians", the best from around the world, to study you. He never wanted to study the female body to help your period cramps! He's gonna use you as a fucking lab rat to make himself and his people invincible! He wants you to cure them all!

What happens- what happens when he realises that I cant cure anyone? What's he going to do to me?

Your throat ran dry at the silent answer. You've read about medieval torture. They're brutal.

You heard footsteps coming towards your room, so you quickly his your letters and tried to look normal again.

"Princess?" Baldwin knocked before entering, not waiting for your permission. He beamed as he looked at you, walking upto you to kiss your cheek, but frowned immediately. "Princess, you're sweating. Are you okay?"

You wiped the cold sweat quickly. Nodding at him, you changed the subject. "Where are you going?" You asked, looking at his clothes.

"Oh! I'm going hunting! Its been a while, and I read somewhere that bone marrow is very nutritious for the body, so I'm going to hunt some animals for you." He explained ecstatically before grinning at you as he leaned down to your level. "But since its been so long since I last went hunting, I decided I needed some good luck. So... princess, will you bless me with some luck?"

"W-what?" You stammered out at the proximity. He turned his cheek, glancing at you expectantly. Oh, he cant be serious.

"Do you want your king, your soon-to-be husband to die?" He teased, but at the same time, you knew he wouldnt leave until you did what he wanted.

Swallowing thickly, you leaned in slowly and gave him a quick peck on his cheek, right where his dimple appeared when you did. Immediately, he turned face back to you and grabbed your head to steady and planted a wet kiss on your forehead.

"My luckiest charm!" He chuckled, pinching your nose as your flushed. "I'll be back before dinner!" He said on his way out.

3 hours later, you had finally decided to leave. You cant wait until another week and who knows if Baldwin will even let you leave then? What if he figures out that there is no family in Egypt for you and decides to lock you away in the dungeons to be experimented on?

Ironic how you as a scientist will now be a guinea pig for medieval era "scientists".

You had sneaked out of your room without anyone noticing, a feat in itself since the place is crawling with knights and servants.

But of course, Baldwin would've made sure there was at least one person tailing your every move.

"Princess Y/n?" The knight commander of your security detail called out. What were the odds of him leaving his post at the front of the castle, to walk in on you mounting a horse in the stables at the back of this castle? "Where are you going? His Majesty told me that you would be resting in your room today."

You blinked at him, trying to come up with an excuse. "I- I-"

He looked at you with even more concern, however that would start turning into suspicion soon if you don't answer him soon.

"Chapel!" You blurted out. "I- I am going to the royal chapel... to uh- isolate myself."

"Isolate?"

"Y-yes, because of my- um flow. I do not want to risk his majesty or- anyone getting sick because of me." The knight commander seemed satisfied with your explanation. He nodded, signalling a couple of other knights his way. "Very well, princess. Let these knights accompany you to the chapel, and they will keep guard while you isolate yourself inside."

You know he wouldnt let you go without knights, so you dont argue. Besides, the royal chapel is huge. You're sure you can sneak out of there unnoticed by these knights.

At the chapel, you waited until it was dark and the last of the church staff had taken their leave. You had found a small window to squeeze through, but just then, one of the knights knocked on the door of your chapel.

You didnt answer at first, hoping that they'd think you were asleep and dont disturb you again. However, they knocked again, this time with more persistence.

Grumbling, you returned to your bed and messed up your hair, pretending like you just woke up.

"Yes?"

The knight barged in, looking spooked. "A-apologies for waking you up, princess but-! But his majesty-!" You got up from your bed, brows furrowing.

"His Majesty has been injured during the hunt!" He stammered out.

Your eyes widened. Baldwin got injured? The knight began ushering you out of the chapel. "We must return to palace now! Its not safe!"

"What? Why?" You stopped him from helping you mount your horse. He looked at the other knights who were all on high alert as they kept looking around.

"The king was shot by an arrow!"

You were now back at the castle, against your will, so running away will have to wait. You were going to go to your room, but the knight commander ushered you towards Baldwin's.

"Why am I going there?" You asked as he escorted you.

"The king is injured." He replied. "So? Fetch the physicians."

"I did." He stopped to look at you. "But His Majesty has refused them from helping. He asked for you specially."

Oh no. Is he- is he going to make you "heal" him again? But you dont have any of your medicinal potions anymore. So when he realises you cant heal him-

You stood in front of his door.

Will he kill me?

You entered the room, spotting him lying on the bed bare chested, with an arrow stuck in his left shoulder blade.

Baldwin's eyes were closed, but his brows were furrowed in pain, sweat glistening from his entire body.

As you walked near, you spotted the bandages and ointments left by the physicians.

"B-Baldwin?" Your voice was so small, heart thumping against your chest as his eyes fluttered open weakly.

"P-princess?" He sounded so frail. Somehow, despite the state he was in, he managed to smile. "You came?"

You nodded. "You asked for me."

"I did. Only you can heal me from this. Only you can save me from death."

Save him?

You had him sit up to inspect the wound. "I-" Your eyes narrowed at the wound, and then at his face.

"Baldwin." He hummed weakly in response. Gritting your teeth, you ripped out the arrow from his shoulder, making him gasp in pain. "What did you do that for?!"

You waved the arrow in his face. "This hadnt penetrated through your shoulder! It wasnt even in that deep!" You threw the arrow to your side. "You werent dying! You're not even close to dying!"

He pouted, rubbing his shoulder where a small hole was. "So? It still hurt. Just bandage me-"

"Why didnt you have the physicians do it for you?!"

"Why would I when I have you? Come on, nurse me back to health, princess." He sighed when you glared at him. "Okay fine. I only called for you because well- you've been very distant with me."

Your nostril flared. "And whose fault is that?" You gritted out before turning to leave.

"Wait, princess-" He called out from behind. You werent going to listen to another word- another lie! Twisting the handle, you opened the door, only for it to be slammed shut by hand coming over you.

"Princess~" Baldwin turned you around, pushing you against the door as he locked it. "You arent going anywhere until we clear this out."

You pushed him away. "I dont want to clear it out." Baldwin's brows rose at your harsh tone. You turned around to leave again but Baldwin grabbed your wrist, tugging you to his chest.

"Y/n." His eyes pierced through you. "Why are you acting like this?"

You didnt answer. "Let me go, Baldwin." "No. Answer me-" "Let me go, Baldwin." "Princess, youre being unfair to me. What did I do to deserve such harshness from the one person I love the most-"

"You kissed Charlotte."

The color drained from his face, and the shock of being caught made him release your wrist. "Did Charlotte tell you this?"

Before either of you could react, you slapped him. Baldwin stared at you in shock, holding his cheek. You just slapped a king- the king of the HOLY LAND, but you honestly couldnt bring yourself to care about the conseuquences of your actions.

You backed away from him as tears pooled into your eyes. "You arent even denying it. You kissed her."

"Charlotte kissed me-"

"But you didnt push her back!" You screamed, tears finally flowing free. "I saw it- I fucking saw it, Baldwin!"

"Y/n listen to me-"

"If you loved Charlotte, if you planned on getting back with her, why did you propose to me?! I never wanted to marry you, Baldwin, so why did you lead me on?!"

"Thats not true! Just listen-"

"As if fooling around my back wasnt enough, you let her stay inside the castle even after I had returned! I mean I get you didnt think you would ever get to do it due to leprosy, but how desperate did you have to be to bed her while I was still in the castle?!"

"ENOUGH!" He roared, face red from rage. "You will calm down right now, or I will make you calm down!"

You looked at him betrayed and hurt, as Baldwin closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his his nose, taking deep breaths to collect himself.

"You've accused me of something. I deserve to explain myself." He stated.

"Charlotte and I were engaged when we were just children. Her father used to work for my father, as a knight. When he was on his deathbed due to getting wounded gravely when he saved my father, he made me promise that I would always take care of Charlotte." He paused before continuing. "When I found out I had leprosy, I broke off our engagement and when she came of age, I found her a suitable noble to marry. Eventually, they had a son. Her husband... he eventually lost all of his land and money in a gamble. So I tried to help Charlotte financially over the years, because I was the one who found her this man. She didnt deserve to be married to such man."

He recalled the events. "One day, Charlotte wrote to me that her husband had fallen sick. Terribly so. He kept on coughing and coughing until he began hacking up blood. My physicians told me that he had pthisis as the Greeks call it, or "consumption."

You remember studying about medival diseases- one of which was "consumption". Or in modern day- "Tuberculosis."

"I tried to help out, but there was no cure. The man died a slow and painful death. Charlotte loved her husband, despite all his faults, so his death did take a toll on her mentally. I continued to support her, but there was only so much I could do as a leper king. Things seemed to be going well until last year, when her son fell sick. The physicians said he was suffering with consumption as well, but it was still in the early stages so they had hope they could treat it. They took his son with them to the infirmary in Byzantine, where the best possible care would be provided for him. I made sure of it." He sighed. "But the odds were not in his favour. I got a letter from the head physician that Charlotte's son would not survive the winter. Charlotte was there with her son, day and night, she'd never leave his side. The physicians told her about her son's life expectancy. As expected, she was devastated, but at least now she could prepare herself and spend the rest of his days together."

"Then I announced our engagement, and I didnt write to Charlotte because I didnt think it would be appropriate to share this news with her at such a pivotal time. However, news must've reached her about my leprosy being cured and before I knew it, she was here. You were still in Egypt when Charlotte came, and she wanted to meet you. At first I thought it was because she wanted to congratulate you, but I found out that it was because she-" Baldwin shook his head, before looking right at you. "She thought you could cure her son."

"What? Why would she-" Of course, everyone thinks youre made of magic because of Baldwin.

"That's not the worst part. Charlotte's son was already dead before she had even reached Jerusalem. The physician informed me of his death, and that he had warned Charlotte of it too, but she still came here instead of being with her son."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "She came here because you asked her to-"

"I didnt! Why would I do that? Especially when you werent even here to help her?" Baldwin took a deep breath before continuing on. "When I informed her of her son's death- She lost it. She lost herself. I just- I promised to take care of her, Y/n."

"So you kissed her? To make her fall in love with you? Was that the plan?"

"I didnt kiss her, she kissed me!" Baldwin gritted out. "Even after her son's death, she wanted to meet you so that you could bring her son back to life. No matter how much I explained that it isnt possible to bring him back, she wouldnt listen. I told her that you're not some sort of witch that cast a spell to cure me-"

"So why did she kiss you?" You cut him off.

Baldwin licked his lips. "Charlotte knew the story of how you cured me. She figured that if she cant get you, then she can have me help her. In her head, she thought that since I drank your water that had your saliva, I had your essence- your healing abilities in me. So, she kissed me."

He could see the realisation dawning on you. Charlotte kissed him to get your "healing power"?

"I didnt push her back- because I was surprised. And then I pitied her. I didnt know how to break it to her again that nothing can bring her son back. That she was all alone now. Because of me. I had her marry that man, who got consumption, and then his son contracted it as well. I am the reason for her losing everything!" His eyes twinkled with tears, but he didnt let one tear slip.

Wait a minute. If Baldwin knew her son was dying and didnt call her here, then-

You closed your eyes. Fucking Guy.

Of course, only he'd be the one to address the letter as "King Baldwin IV". And you already figured out why he called Charlotte.

"We can kill Baldwin by making him sick again" Guy thought that Charlotte would bring her son, or at the very least bring a series of diseases from the Byzantine infirmary to infect Baldwin with.

Fucking idiot.

Baldwin took your hands in his. "Princess, I never cheated on you. I know I should've told you about Charlotte but... I didnt want to burden you. You already are busy trying to find your family and when you returned, you were tired and then you had your flow. I just- I didnt want to pile up more stuff on you." His hand cupped your cheek tenderly. "You know that I love you. You know that my affection for you is real. Thats why it hurt you so much when saw you her kissing me, because deep down, you knew I wouldn't betray you like this."

His blue were firm as he spoke the next words with conviction.

"You are the beginning of my soul. And you are the end of it."

Tears slipped down your face as you felt him kiss your forehead before wrapping you in his arms, continuing to kiss your forehead again and again.

Finally, you wrapped your arms around him, nodding. Accepting.

Sniffling, you pulled away before tugging him to sit on the bed as you began bandaging his shoulder. Fortunately, the wound wasnt too deep, so you didnt need to introduce "sutures" to medieval era.

Baldwin smiled softly as you tied his bandage, taking your hand and pressing a kiss on top of it. "I'm all better now." You smiled sadly.

"What?" He asked you. You sniffled again. "Princess, what is it?" He pulled you to sit on his lap, tapping your chin.

"I slapped you." You reminded him.

He nodded. "I remember."

"I'm sorry." "I know." He smiled assuringly. Honestly, you were so overcome with emotion that you hadnt realised the risk you took. Baldwin could've easily had your head chopped off at the offence.

"You're not mad?" You whispered, peeking at him from your lashes. He hummed thoughtfully. "No, not mad. I am hurt by your lack of trust me in though, but I take half the blame in this as you did see someone kissing me." He grinned at you. "I do know how you can make it up to me though."

You raised a brow.

"How about... you and I..." he tipped your chin to meet his eyes as he leaned close. "... cuddle tonight?"

"You want cuddles?" You asked, lips quirking at his childishness. He nodded excitedly. "Yes. As you know, I am gravely injured, I need all the love and attention from my beloved angel~" You squealed as he pulled you down with him on the mattress, bursting into giggles as he kissed your cheeks again and again.

After 10 minutes or so of you playing with his hair as he dreamily sighed, you suddenly had a question.

"Baldwin?" He hummed. "How did you get an arrow in your shoulder? You went hunting animals with knights."

Baldwin, with his eyes still closed, replied. "If I tell you, you'll get mad."

You tugged at his hair, making him open one eye. "Baldwin~" You warned.

"Fine, fine, I'll tell you." He rested his head on his palm. "Well, since you were being distant to me and the knight commander told me you had housed yourself in the royal chapel under the excuse of "not wanting to make me sick", I figured I need to find a way to make you be close to me..."

Your face dropped at realisation.

"YOU SHOT YOURSELF WITH AN ARROW?!"

He shook his head in disbelief. "No, dont be silly. How would that be even possible?" You sighed in relief.

"I threatened my expert archer to shoot me with an arrow."

Sibylla burst through the door as soon as she had heard of her brother's grave injury, only to witness an odd sight:

Baldwin, with his shoulder bandaged, was doing sit-ups in front of Y/n, who was sitting on his bed, glaring at him with angry tears streaming down her face.

"Princess~ I said I'm sorryyyyy" Sibylla giggled, watching her younger sibling whine to you, but he shut up as another tear slipped down your cheek.

So, thoughts?

None of you guessed that reason for the kiss,did you? I better fucking get all the comments and asks or else I'm wreaking havoc

Part 6 is here!

#yandere king baldwin #yandere x darling #yandere baldwin #king baldwin iv #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere boyfriend #obsessive yandere #baldwin iv #king baldwin x reader

1K notes · View notes

acapelladitty · 5 months

Note

I need Cooper Howard leaving bruises and marks on a partner for reasons. Marking up his girl all pretty like~

Mornings Echo

Pairing: Cooper Howard/F!Reader

(tw for: rough handling, grinding, biting, threats of violence, skin marking, groping, filthy talk, mild nipple play, jealousy, possessive behaviour) [1.6k words]

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Crashing through the thin wooden door of the shed, a splintering noise squealed free of the old planks as Cooper kicked them shut with an aggressiveness that made your heart flutter. Random tools lined the wall opposite you, the wall to your back completely clear of debris, and a cheeky comment about his actions died in your throat as you quickly found yourself slammed against that same wall with a single fluid shove.

Stars dancing before your eyes as a surprised gasp fills the small area, your body remains stunned for a moment as Cooper stands before you, his hand still pressing harshly into your shoulder as he stares down at you with most of his features hidden by the shadows of his hat. You wrap a hand around his wrist, fingers clawing into the leather coat as you grip at him with equal aggression.

"Fucking ouch." You hiss, attempting to stamp at his foot with the ball of your own as petty revenge guides your movements. "The hell was that for?"

"Ain't sensible to tease a man like that." His eyes ablaze, the anger in Cooper's features is different to his usual rage as something much more muted yet complicated touches at the way his eyes narrow and his face tilts. "It'll get you into the kinda trouble I don't think you're ready to handle."

Tease?

A confused look furrows your brow.

Fresh off an exchange of caps for meds, you hadn't actively payed him enough attention during the transaction to tease him. All you had done was-

Oh.

Ah.

The trader, a lecherous old fuck with jerky fingers and a face that vaguely resembled rotten jelly, had shown an obvious interest in you that hadn't went unnoticed by yourself or, apparently, Cooper.

Never one to pass up the chance for a better deal, your rejections of his advances had been much less violent than you would have liked; but the resulting tolerance of the lingering touches he delivered with his disgusting hands has ensured an extra few capsules tossed in to the exchange.

So no, this wasn't anger that was pinning you to the wall.

This was jealousy.

"You're jealous." You accuse, never one to back down from the truth as his mouth visibly tightens in irritation at the words. "You didn't like me letting that filthy motherfucker think he had a chance! Damn, Cooper, didn't think it was that serious."

"You're free to do what you like and I don't pay your intentions no never mind. But what I can't abide is folks touching things that ain't theirs."

"I ain't anyone's." You reply, matching his tone and accented words with a mocking quality as your free hand shifts up to poke rudely at his chest. "So you can shove that possessive shit right up your ass until it comes pouring out of your jealous mouth."

He's on you in a flash, his quick movements catching you unaware as you squeak out your surprise once more. His mouth is hot against your own, forcing your lips open to claim his prize and steal a filthy kiss which he didn't deserve. A fact you make him more than aware of as you bite down on his lower lip with enough pressure to make him pull away, hissing violently and cursing you out as he does.

"You sure you ain't feral, darling? Biting like a rabid bitch? Better check to make sure."

His gloved hand forces itself within your shirt, accidentally ripping the top button free as it bounces along the floor to disappear under some dusty shelves. It does nothing to deter him though as his fingers drop enough to grope roughly at your left tit, pulling it free of your shirt as your feeble protests die in your throat - heated arousal making any denials difficult.

Fuck- you loved him like this. All business and action, decisive and determined. It was an attitude that had left you screaming louder than the wild dogs which roamed the abandoned wastelands.

Cowboy hat still lovingly perched atop his head, his face dips to your chest to replace his hand and blunted teeth roll across your nipple, the nub quickly peaking due to the cruel attention. His other hand still on your shoulder, both of your hands wrap around the back of his neck to pull him closer as he steals the breath from your throat.

Wordlessly panting, a low grunt escapes you as his teeth sink in to the flesh just to the side of your nipple - the skin there feeling sensitive and raw as he sucks it into his mouth, his intent to leave a livid mark in its wake clear. It's an uncomfortable sensation but hot as hell as you rub your thighs together, feeling the growing moisture there with a lightheaded frenzy making your thoughts fuzzy.

"Fuck, Cooper. You're gonna tear a chunk from me."

"A mighty fine idea. Maybe I will." He mutters into your breast before righting himself, looming to his full height once more. "I bet you'd taste just fine, all raw and bloody. Wouldn't even need to season you like all the others."

Grimacing at his cannibalistic tendencies, a facet of his personality that you didn't indulge in with quite as much enthusiasm, you glance down at the red mark on your chest - the imprint of his teeth visibly denting into the abused skin as Cooper continued.

"I'm sure I also saw that chunky son of a bitch eyeing up your neck so let's see if I can leave an impression there too."

Again moving too quickly for you to protest, Cooper presses his body into your own in such a way that you are utterly unable to move; trapped beneath his heated frame and the definite scent of leather and coppery blood which never seemed to leave him. He wasn't a jealous man typically but you were eager and more than interested in seeing how far this little game would go.

His roughened tongue licks across your pulse point, tasting the accrued sweat and grime which coats your skin and the wet sensation forces a shudder to run down your spine. He could say what he liked, but when it came to being a tease, he would always be the offending party. He seemed to delight in pushing your buttons with casual, lewd comments and finding particular ways of brushing his body against your own - regardless of who was around to witness it.

Tilting your neck to allow him easier access, he accepts the small boon with enthusiasm as his teeth join his tongue in marking up your skin. Soft kisses are interspersed with savage, quick snaps of his teeth and the dual sensations of pain and pleasure are almost enough to drive you insane as you writhe against him. Taking the hint, he pushes his knee between your legs and you instantly start to grind against his thigh - the stimulation enough to allow you to endure the rough treatment of your neck.

Your hand drops to his groin, cupping his hardened length through his trousers as he growls his appreciation into your skin.

"I think I like you when you're jealous." You taunt. "Maybe I should- fuck, Coop!" You cut off as he bites you once more, this time over the sensitive juncture where your neck meets the shoulder. "Maybe I should make you jealous more often."

"Dangerous game, sweetie." He rumbles in response, running his teeth along your earlobe. "I'm being Mr. Nice at the moment and marking up my property just a little bit, but there's always other ways to get the same results."

"Mmm, and what are you going to do, cowboy? Pulling at his head until he was facing you once more, the jealousy in his eyes is replaced by a burning arousal which you knew meant you were in for a solid ride. "Gonna rustle me up in that lasso of yours? Ride off with me in tow."

"Lasso's too nice for one as fiesty and spirited as you. Won't do shit. Any good rancher knows that a quick brand," his hand drops to your chest once more as his fingers poke at the sensitive mark he had suckled into the skin earlier, "would be best at reminding you who you belong to."

Already littered with scars and markings which showcased your journey through the wastelands better than any story could, the thought of a brand wasn't as off-putting as you might have thought and you rub as his cock with renewed vigour through his trousers as you give a contemplative hum.

"Sounds hot. Maybe if you're good and fuck me til I forgive that little shove into the wall," you lean into him and run your own teeth against his ear, "I'll even think about it, handsome."

#fallout #amazon fallout #cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #cooper howard smut #fallout smut #walton goggins

1K notes · View notes

loving-barnes · 5 months

Text

LOGAN HOWLETT - BROKEN & MENDED

A/N: A new one-shot that I tried to write. It's okay, I guess. So here you go. Also, the title sucks, but... whatever.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Featuring: Avengers, Ex!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warning: angst, fluff, implied smut?

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story has sexual scenes.

Words: 3400+

Important note: I know Wolverine is like 160cm but… I forgot about tha that so, he’s a tall MF. (They kinda fucked that up in some of the movies, so whatever.) So Hugh Jackman!Wolverine

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - BROKEN & MENDED

It felt like a dagger went through her heart. Her eyes watched her boyfriend and her best friend kissing in the kitchen. They didn’t know Y/N was there. It seemed that they didn’t care someone would be able to see them. She watched it all with her two eyes. The two people she trusted the most in the entire world broke her heart. How long was this happening? Why was this happening?

The vomit threatened to escape her throat. She was sick to her stomach from the betrayal. Shaking her head, Y/N silently walked away from the scene, heading back to the room she shared with Bucky.

When her eyes landed on the messy bed, she shared with him daily, her stomach flipped. She felt nauseous like never before. How often did he bring Natasha to bed while she was away on a mission? Her feet dragged her to the bathroom, where she ended up vomiting into the toilet.

Y/N stayed on the bathroom floor for another hour, thinking about her next steps. There was no point in crying over spilt milk. Bucky had decided to find peace in other girl’s arms. He had decided to break Y/N’s heart.

Sighing, she slowly got up, washed her face and rinsed her mouth. And then it hit her. How many people knew about this affair? Of course, Steve knew. He had to. He was Bucky’s best friend. Hell, even Sam had to know something.

She fished out a phone from her jeans and texted Tony. He, of all people, would be able to understand her. Once he agreed to see her, she washed her mouth one more time and left for the lab. As expected, Tony was tinkering on one of his suits. There was a big cup of cold coffee on the table that he didn’t drink.

“What’s up, Y/L/N,” Tony asked when he noticed Y/N in the lab. He immediately noticed her body language. Something was off. “What’s going on?”

She sat in an office chair, eyes scanning all the tools scattered around the place. “I need you to do something for me - no questions asked.”

His eyes captured hers, frowning. “Oh no, you can’t pull that card on me. What’s going on? What happened?”

No wonder Y/N wanted a ‘no questions asked’. A few months ago, Tony called Y/N to get him from a club. He was drunk, covered in vomit and upset about something. Y/N didn’t question it. She drove him to the tower, got him to bed, and they never spoke about it again.

Y/N took a deep breath, her lips quivering. She wanted to scream, cry and throw a tantrum like a child. Her heart was breaking some more. “I’m resigning.”

“What?!” Tony jumped on his feet. That statement woke him up. “What do you mean, Y/N? Does Barnes know about that? Are you two planning something? Are you pregnant?”

She shook her head. Damn, that last question got her even more. When did she start to feel the want to have kids with him? “He doesn’t know anything. I need you to accept my resignation and let me silently leave as soon as possible,” she said. “Please.”

Tony wasn’t a fool. He could see the pain in her eyes, how her lips trembled and how she tried to hold it together. Tony was able to put two and two together. Something happened between them - it was over. “Shit,” he shook his head in disbelief. “Holy shit.”

“Please, Tony,” she raised a hand into the air. “I have to do this. If he can’t come clean, I can leave without a word. Two can play this game.”

“But,” he closed the distance and put his hands on the woman’s shoulders. “You can’t leave the Avengers. You are like the little sister I never had. I can kick Barnes’s ass again if you’d like. Say the word and I will detach that damn arm from him.”

Y/N chuckled. It was hard to hold it together and not cry in front of Tony. “We can stay in touch, Stark. Please, don’t make me stay. My heart is broken, shattered into a million pieces. I won’t be able to look them in the eyes-”

“Them?” he interrupted her. “Who’s the woman?”

A tear finally escaped Y/N’s eye. “Natasha,” she whispered.

Tony’s fists clenched. He wanted to curse out loud and throw something into a wall. “I’m sorry,” was all he said to her. “I’m sorry things went to shit like this. Holy fuck, Natasha and Barnes? What the fuck?”

As the dam broke, Tony caught her in his tight embrace and let Y/N cry it out. He wouldn’t do it for anyone but her. As Tony said, Y/N was like his little sister whom he needed to protect. He pushed her away a little to look into her eyes. The pain in them was breaking Tony’s heart.

“Is there anything you need to take?” he asked. “Any photos or personal belongings?”

Y/N thought about it. All the photos she had were with Bucky, Natasha or the team. She didn’t have any family outside the Avengers. Everything she owned had been provided for her.

“No,” she said.

Tony sighed, nodding. “Alright.” He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and took out a wallet. He gave her a black card. “Take it.”

“What? Tony, no, I can’t,” she shook her head.

“Shut up, Y/N,” he frowned at her. “Take the damn card. I have twenty more. Get yourself a hotel, buy new clothes or a car - whatever the fuck you want. Text me from a new number once you settled down. I want to stay in contact with you even when you are on the other side of the world.”

“Oh, Tony.”

“I’ll let you know how the pandemonium went once they realise you are gone,” he chuckled at that thought. “Are you sure about this, Y/N?” he had to ask.

“I don’t owe Bucky anything - not even a stupid explanation. He decided to cheat behind my back with my best friend. God knows how long this has been going on for. I wouldn’t be surprised if Steve and Sam knew about this. I don’t trust any of them anymore, Tony. I was hurt many times before. This is a new level of pain I’ve never felt before. I thought he was it, you know? And look how it ended.”

“I want to say I understand. However, I don’t,” said Tony. “I’ll miss you, kid.”

. . .

Bucky had a phone pressed to his ear. He was walking around the lounge room like a lion in a cage. He cursed under his nose and redialed Y/N’s number. Steve, Sam and Tony walked into the lounge room, chatting. “Has anyone seen Y/N?” Bucky asked them. “I can’t get hold of her.”

“Have you checked your room?” Sam asked and sat on the couch. He put his feet up on the coffee table. “Or she’s with Natasha.”

“I’ve asked Nat. She hasn’t seen her the whole day,” said Bucky, frowning. He tried to call her again. “She’s not responding to texts. Where the hell is she? Did she go on a solo mission?”

“I don’t know anything about it,” Steve shrugged.

Tony crossed arms over his chest. “She left,” he announced.

All eyes turned to him. “What?” Steve asked. “What do you mean by that? Did Fury give her a solo mission?”

“She left,” Tony repeated sternly. Bucky approached the man, confused. “Barnes, come on, let’s not play this game. You think the woman wouldn’t notice?”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Stark?” Bucky spat. “Fuck, Stark, talk. Where the hell is Y/N?”

“Y/N found out about you and Natasha.” Tony’s fists clenched. He wanted to punch Barnes into his face. “How the fuck could you do that to her, Barnes? You didn’t have the balls to tell her the truth, to talk to her. And now, because you betrayed her, she left the tower - the team.”

Steve turned to Bucky, shocked by that revelation. “You and Natasha?” he gasped. “When?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know, Rogers,” Tony scoffed.

“Shit,” Sam commented. “What the fuck, dude?”

Bucky didn’t know what to say first. “When she’ll be back?”

Tony had to laugh. “You think she’s coming back? Come on, Barnes. You broke her heart. You cheated on her with her best friend. She’s never coming back. She left because of you. Also,” he turned to the Captain and the Falcon. “She thinks you two know about the affair.”

Sam jumped up on his feet, visibly pissed. “Whoa,” he glared at Barnes. “I don’t know anything about Barnes fucking Romanoff. What the fuck, Bucky? How could you do that to the best woman you could have ever had?”

“Sam, it’s not that simple-”

“The fuck it is,” Sam yelled at him. “I can’t believe you did that,” he said. “I’m so angry at you.”

“Sam. I… It’s…”

“Go fuck yourself, Barnes,” he punched Bucky into his shoulder and left the lounge room.

Bucky sighed, defeated. When he looked up at Steve, he could see the disappointment in his eyes.

Tony had to chuckle. “This is what happens when you think with your dick and not with your head and heart. This is your own doing.”

. . .

A FEW YEARS LATER

It was a big day. Tony Stark threw a massive engagement party for him and Pepper. He finally had the guts to ask the woman of his dreams to marry her.

He invited over a hundred people. He wanted to celebrate his beautiful fianceé, their love and happiness. Or in other words, another reason why to throw a party. Also, this was the perfect opportunity to see Y/N again.

It was almost two years since she left the team. No one knew anything about her except Tony and Pepper. They kept in touch with her the whole time. The couple knew about her new life, new role and more importantly new love. And now, they invited her to celebrate their engagement. Her new man was also invited.

It was supposed to be a big dinner with music and drinks. Everyone was there - the whole Avengers team, some SHIELD agents and even politicians who had a good relationship with the happy couple. And yet, Tony waited for his favourite person to arrive.

He was standing by the bar, nursing a drink. Tony’s eyes wandered around the place, trying to glimpse Y/N in the crowd. The dinner was about to start, and she still wasn’t there. A hand appeared on his shoulder, striking it lovingly. “Don’t worry. She’ll be here soon,” Pepper said to his ear. “She promised to come.”

He was ready to comment on it when his eyes noticed Y/N walk through the entrance, all dressed up and with a smile plastered over her face. A tall, muscular man stood behind her, helping her with her coat. Tony smiled, glad that Y/N had arrived with her new boyfriend. Tony liked that guy a lot. Same humour, both liked the taste of whisky and they dated amazing women.

“See, she’s here,” said Pepper with a smile. She raised a hand, waving to the couple.

“Are you sure about this?” Y/N heard her boyfriend’s voice close to her ear. “You don’t have to do anythin’ that makes you uncomfortable, baby.”

She turned to him, fixing his black suit. The way Logan was staring at her made her knees weak. His eyes were hungry, she was sure of it. When he saw the dress on her, he had to hold himself back. “I know, Lo’. I’m happy you’ve decided to come with me and be my plus one. Tony likes you a lot, to be honest,” she giggled. “Also, I’m done with my past and am focused on my present, with you.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Come on, Y/N. Your friends are waiting. Nervous?”

“A little bit,” she had to admit.

Logan held her hand proudly. He tried to intimidate people with his glare. Y/N was surprised when she found him dressed in a fancy suit. Yes, it was all black - like he wanted. But damn, he looked sexy.

Together, they walked to Tony and Pepper, greeting them. Y/N hugged them both, while Logan shook hands with Tony and nodded towards Pepper.

“Congratulations, you two,” Y/N said with a smile. “You are finally doing it. I’m so proud of you, Tony. You are growing up,” she teased him.

“How are you holding up?” Pepper asked gently. “How are the kids?” her eyes moved to Logan.

“It’s not easy to teach young mutants,” Logan replied. “They can be a handful, ya know? But they love Y/N.”

Y/N wrapped an arm around Logan’s waist, smiling. “They like all of us. All of them are grateful to have a place to live and feel safe. And, to answer your question, I’m doing good. Am I nervous? Yes. Am I happy? Also yes.”

“I can’t believe you became a teacher in a mutant school,” Tony shook his head in disbelief. “Is it cool that you two are together?” he pointed between the couple. “Isn’t there any strict policy that you cannot date an old man?” he joked.

Logan glared at him. “Hilarious, Stark.”

“Come on, Wolverine. I am just messing around. But seriously, no policy?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “No, nothing like that. Thank god.”

“Last time, it bit you in the ass,” Tony glared at Y/N.

She sighed. “I know, but why make these policies? I know in the end it can hurt the team, but… “ she shook her head, not finishing.

“Out of curiosity, what would you do if you weren’t allowed to date?” Pepper asked.

Logan and Y/N looked at each other. There was a brief silence. “I’d take her to Canada,” he said after some thinking. “We’d buy ourselves a place, somewhere in the mountains.” He could see how her eyes lit up when he mentioned living far away. “Unfortunately, we had decided to stay and teach young mutants. Who knows what will bring us the future.”

Y/N wanted to press a kiss to his lips. But she knew Logan wasn’t fond of PDA. Her mouth opened to tell him how much she loved him.

“Y/N?”

Y/N took a deep breath through her nose. Slowly, she turned to the voice, finding Steve standing behind the couple, surprised to see her. “Hi,” she said cheerfully.

“Wow, you look amazing. I’m glad to see you again,” he nodded, smiling. His eyes moved to the man beside her. Steve observed him - he was tall muscular and a bit scary. He stretched his arm. “I’m Steve Rogers,” he introduced himself.

Logan grabbed his hand, shaking it. “Logan,” he said firmly.

When their hands disconnected, both men turned their eyes on Y/N. “I see you are doing well,” Steve said to Y/N. “It’s been… what, two years?”

“Something like that,” she shrugged. Her eyes moved to Logan. “I’ll quickly go to the bathroom before dinner. I’ll be right back.” Instantly, Logan leaned in and he pressed a kiss to her cheek. Y/N couldn’t believe her boyfriend was affectionate in public. They would leave the PDA behind closed doors. It was sweet.

Y/N walked through the crowd of people, heading to the ladies' room. No one paid her any attention. She registered some celebrities and politicians. Everyone was here for Tonny and Pepper. Y/N opened the door, walked in with a gentle smile and was met with Natasha. The smile was instantly gone. The woman was staring at her reflection in the mirror, fixing her make-up when her eyes landed on Y/N.

Y/N’s eyes widened. Her breath got stuck. As much as she told herself she was ready for this, she wasn’t. “Hi,” she said neutrally and quickly locked herself inside a toilet room.

She heard the entrance door open and closed a few times. Y/N hoped Natasha left. Unfortunately, after she was done and left the toilet, Natasha was leaning against the counter, waiting.

“Hi,” Natasha greeted her, whispering. Her eyes followed Y/N’s every moment. “H-how have you been?”

Y/N sighed. She started to wash her hands. “Do we have to talk?” she asked emotionless.

“Yes, we do. I haven’t seen you in two years. I missed you,” said Natasha.

“You are kidding, right?” Y/N glared at her through the mirror. “How can you say this after what happened? How can you stand there and say those words when you had a thing with my then-boyfriend?” She turned off the water and wiped her hands with paper towels. “I promised myself I would enjoy this evening, celebrate Tony’s engagement and then leave. I guess things never turn out how we want.”

After she was done, Y/N left the bathroom. She was visibly upset. All she wanted was to hide in Logan’s arms, have a meal and leave. How could she believe she’d be able to come here? Why was she still this hurt when she had a wonderful man by her side? Did she…? No. The only thing left was the hurt. Her heart belonged to Logan now. She loved him more than she ever loved anyone.

“Y/N,” Natasha followed her out. “Please, let’s talk. You need to listen to me.”

“I don’t have to do shit, Romanoff.” Fate wasn’t kind to Y/N. When she walked outside, she was met with the one person she hoped to avoid the most. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” she cursed.

Bucky stood before her in a tux. His hair was short, face shaved and smooth. Those blue eyes were wide open as he stared at his ex-girlfriend all dressed up. “Oh my god,” he gasped. “Y/N, you are here.”

“Obviously,” she sighed. “I am Tony’s good friend,” she said. She wanted to walk away from the. Unfortunately, he gently grabbed her by her forearm, stopping her. “Let me go, Barnes.”

“Please, we need to talk. Only for a minute.”

Y/N yanked her arm out of his grip. “There is nothing to talk about. I don’t want to talk to any of you,” her eyes went from him to Natasha and back.

“Yes, there is,” he frowned. “You left without a word.”

She frowned at him. “So? You slept with my best friend behind my back. You cheated on me and didn’t have the balls to be honest with me.” Y/N fixed her dress and straightened her back. “I found you two making out in the damn kitchen. So, no, there is nothing to talk about. I came here to celebrate Tony and Pepper.”

Natasha sighed, upset about it all. Bucky shook his head. “You left, Y/N. For fuck’s sake you left without a word,” he raised his voice.

“That’s all you care about?” she asked. “Barnes, you broke my heart. Do you think I’d stay here after what happened? Do you think I’d be happy to see you two together? Wake up. Both of you.” Y/N turned to Natasha, to see her upset face.

A hand appeared on her shoulder, stroking it gently. Y/N released a deep breath she didn’t know she was holding and calmed down. She smelled Logan’s cologne he used for tonight. “You okay, baby?” he asked, eyes shooting daggers at the supersoldier and the spy.

Y/N strengthened her back. “Logan, meet James Barnes and Natasha Romanoff,” she introduced them. She didn’t need to define who they were and what they did to her. Logan already knew. “They don’t seem to understand that I don’t want to talk to them.”

Logan chuckled. “He seems like a guy who doesn’t understand a lot of things,” his eyes darkened. He was not fond of the man standing before him.

“Excuse me?” Bucky frowned.

“Oh, get a life, bub,” Logan scoffed. “The lady said she doesn’t want to talk to ya. So I suggest you leave her the fuck alone.”

With that, Logan grabbed her hand and walked with her away from the pair. He pulled her hand to his lips, kissing its top. “You okay, sweetheart?”

She nodded. “You know what? Let’s have some food, you know, do a little damage and then leave. I want to be alone with you tonight, sir. We have a hotel room that Tony provided us,” she winked at him.

“That dress needs to go as soon as possible,” Logan purred to her ear. “One hour and then we are gone, princess.”

#Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett x female reader #Wolverine x reader #Wolverine x female reader #Logan Howlett fanfiction #Marvel fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

yuwuta · 7 months

Text

YUUTA OKKOTSU’S DECLASSIFIED JUJUTSU TECH SURVIVAL GUIDE (AN APPETITE HAUNTING THE HEART)

❝i know this tastes too good to be healthy. the more it melts, the sweeter it gets, so take my heart out because i need all of you.

*this is yuuta okkotsu’s fool-reviewed plan for navigating all things curses, sorcery, and love.

pairings. okkotsu/reader

content, warnings. canon-adjacent, reader has a cursed technique, friends to lovers, smut (uhh... no triggers i think? other than implied virginity loss on yuuta’s part), mentions of violence/curses, possessive/intrusive thoughts... he starts of kinda sweet and weird and then just gets... weirder and worse lol, so mostly yuuta being... yuuta <2

notes. jujustu tech is a college not a highschool, yes i brought naruto in this, i believe in sasuke slander only from a place of pure love, real sasuke ridicule will not be accepted xoxo

word count. 12k i told you i could yap about him all day

playing. candy/baekhyun, untouched/the veronicas, cream soda/exo, lacy/olivia rodrigo, pure honey/beyoncé

#1 — Do NOT touch Maki Zenin’s tools (but if you do, the cute girl who hangs around Inumaki might help to patch you up).

Yuuta hadn’t meant to piss off Maki. He was trying to be helpful, but Yuuta learned the hard way today: do not touch Maki’s cursed tools, at all, for any reason whatsoever. He intended to hand it back to her, but she was prompt in assuming that was part of an attack, snatching it from under his grasp and giving him a jab on the wrist with the dull end of the stick. If the beatdown he’d endured during training put Yuuta on his deathbed, then that hit was the final nail in the coffin.

The crack! sound of his bones made everyone pause their sparring, and Gojo winced the loudest, “Ouch! That one had to hurt, kid!” It was also Gojo who gathered everyone to stand around and look down at him clutching his wrist in pain, before making the executive decision to appoint you as Yuuta’s caretaker.

“This is definitely something you can handle!” he cheered, patting the top of your head, “Take our dearest Yuuta to the infirmary and patch him up, please and thank you! With the way Maki’s been kicking him into the ground, those cuts are sure to get infected sooner rather than later. The two of you can join us for dinner when you’re finished!”

Yuuta tried to refute, on the grounds of “No—no! I—ouch—this really isn’t worth using any kind of cursed energy over!” Which was quickly met with a mischievous raised eyebrow from his teacher, “Oh? Are you insinuating that my precious student doesn’t have the skill to fix a simple fracture?” That prompted Yuuta to spill a flurry of apologies, none of which were coherent, and ended up with him trailing behind you sheepishly to the infirmary with a broken wrist, several bleeding wounds, and probably early heart failure.

Now, Yuuta sits with his feet dangling off of the edge of the examination chair, shivering from the chilliness of the room, and all of his nerve endings rattling at the realization that this is the first time that he’s been alone in a room with you since you’ve met. He winces, first at the sting of disinfectant into his wound, and then internally—mostly out of embarrassment—because his outward reaction made you pause your actions to question if he’s okay.

Okay is relative, he thinks. In the grand scheme of things, he’s okay. Concerning his current injuries, he’ll be okay eventually. Concerning this… whatever this is he feels for you… maybe not so okay.

“Sorry,” he stutters, too loud for the atmosphere and proximity of your bodies to each other, and, so, he winces again, cheeks staining red to match his embarrassment, as if he or you needed any confirmation of it. He doesn’t mean to be a difficult patient, but he has an adversity surrounding hospitals and medical care, and that alcohol really does burn, and you’re really close to his face, and—and you giggle a little, but Yuuta hears a chorus, instead; warm, spring-like, with violins and a piano and cellos strumming in perfect harmony, and the buzz of bees and butterfly wings flapping the melody.

“You apologize a lot,” you tell him, a kind smile on your lips. You step forward, just a bit, as you peel off the band-aid adhesive and gently press it over the bridge of Yuuta’s nose. It’s Hello Kitty themed. It makes him want to scream.

“Yeah, uh—sorry about that!” Yuuta apologizes, once again too loudly. He scratches at the back of his neck with his left hand, and his eyes go wide after a few beats, “No, wait—I didn’t mean to apologize again. I just... I, uh... thank you. That’s what I wanted to say. For helping me, you have my sincerest thank you.”

Yuuta dips his head to bow, and when he raises it again, you’re blinking at him owlishly, and he thinks he’s really done it now. You must think he’s a freak, if you didn’t already. He thinks you’re gonna tell him off for being pathetic and a weakling, but instead you laugh again—that precious sound that pauses Yuuta’s world for the better.

“You’re awfully formal. There’s no need for that, or to thank me. We’re friends, afterall,” you reassure him, “Even if Gojo did force you to be my practice dummy.”

It’s his turn to reassure you, his uninjured hand moving from his neck to shake frantically in front of him, “It’s completely okay,” he does his best to give you a smile as warm as the one you give him. It probably doesn’t work, but he tries anyway—he’s always been an awkward smiler, too wide-mouthed and toothy, “You can do whatever you want to me, I trust you.”

Your face seems almost solemn at his declaration, and the panic instantly kicks in again. Yuuta scrambles when his words play back in his head, “I’m sorry, was that weird? I meant that I trust your judgment. You can, uh, fix me up however you best see fit—or just leave it! I’m sure it’ll heal on—”

“You’re awfully self-sacrificing, too,” you cut him off with a laugh, your usual warm nature clicking back. Yuuta shrugs, feeble; you smile wider, “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I keep staring, and I’m sorry to have made you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all! You don’t... make me uncomfortable, I mean. You could never,” Yuuta rushes, curling back into himself after his outburst, “You... it always feels really nice when you’re around. I can’t explain it, but everything is calmer.”

Your eyes flutter across his face, before you turn away from him, “I can tell it makes you nervous—I can hear the changes in your heartbeat,” you tell him, opening the cabinet to return the alcohol to its rightful place. You must also be able to hear his thoughts, chiming in just as Yuuta continues to wonder if his heartbeat is really that loud, “It’s part of my technique. I don’t mean to intrude on your heart.”

Is it an intrusion if Yuuta left room for you? If he wanted you to be there? Was it crazy to think that he’d give you his heart to hold and trust you to take care of it, even though you’d only met a few months ago? Maybe it would be easier if he let you squeeze tight enough to put him out of his misery already.

Luckily, you keep talking before he can say something stupid like that out-loud again.

“It’s just that... you remind me of somebody that I used to know. You’re kind like him, and you both share a well-intentioned recklessness, too. I see so much of him in you that it’s hard not to stare sometimes,” you admit, turning back to face him, and gingerly taking his wrist between your hands. When your hands start to glow, Yuuta can feel it—your reversed cursed technique is warm on the surface, but chilly underneath, like a heated blanket on top of perfectly cool sheets.

“I don’t mean to say that you’re just a replacement,” you continue, slowly rotating your hands over his injury. It stings a little, then soothes, “I’m just still in awe of how nice it feels being around you. It feels strangely—”

“Familiar,” Yuuta interjects, “I understand. You feel that way, too. I think... that’s what I meant before.” He understands your words perfectly because you remind him of someone precious to him, too; someone he used to and still loves alot. “You—it makes me happy, that’s why I seem so nervous.”

It seems as though you understand him, too. His heart sings, and you can probably hear it, but Yuuta doesn’t quite mind so much now. What he feels for you is consuming, maybe concerning, but knowing that you know what it’s like to love like him brings him an odd sense of comfort. Maybe he should be jealous that you’ve had someone to love that much before, but he’s not exactly in a position to talk. What matters is that you can hear him and feel him—his heart and his love and his sad and his happy, and it doesn’t push you away.

It makes him want to burst. He owes you a thank you for putting something so precious in his life. He owes you an apology, for ever doubting that you couldn’t handle his symptoms. He should have realized that you can handle his love.

“You feel really warm, too,” he blushes, scratching at the back of his neck with his free hand, “And, uh, not just because you’re holding my hand.”

The twinkle in your eyes turns into confusion, then surprise when you look down to see that the hand below his wrist had moved to rest underneath his palm instead. His wrist was well healed by now, and you’d been, effectively, massaging his skin and muscles with your technique for the latter duration of your conversation without realizing it.

Yuuta couldn’t tell when it went from healing to hand holding, but he’s not complaining—and he doesn’t think he could have stopped it either. Another quality to your technique that he couldn’t understand was how your energy felt sticky, flowed like honey; how it managed to run into broken crevices and bruised dents with a mind of its own. Even if he’d wanted to pull his hand away—and he didn’t, he absolutely did not—he wouldn’t have gotten far from you. He never wanted to be.

“You already have calluses on your palm,” you note, dispelling your healing energy, holding onto Yuuta’s hand only by want now, “You train hard. You’ll catch up to Maki and Toge, quickly, but not if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Yuuta almost chokes when you rotate your wrist so that your fingers are aligned. Your hand is so much softer than his, warmer than his, and maybe he’s idealistic, but your fingers seem to slot perfectly between his when you curl them.

“I’m not always going to be around to fix you up,” you warn him, “So don’t go around pissing Maki off too much, alright?”

Yuuta can feel the heat from your body flow through him. From his palm, up his arm, down into his chest, and everywhere else. It doesn’t feel real. You’re holding his hand, you’re smiling at him, you’re right there and you’re so bright and beautiful, so Yuuta doesn’t know why his thoughts are so gray and dangerous; you wouldn’t hurt him, and he doesn’t want to hurt you, so why can’t he stop thinking about keeping you like this—of stitching your hands together forever to keep you by his side, or letting this heat consume and burn you both.

Yuuta shakes his head to wiggle those thoughts away, but to you it seems like he’s saying no to staying off of Maki’s radar. When he realizes it, he nods too reverently to make up for it; surely looking like an idiot, and then to top it off, he squeaks, “I—yes, ma’am!”

Another foolish outburst on his end, perhaps, but it makes you giggle, fills the room with springtime for a moment, so to Yuuta, it was worth it. “Good,” you nod, release his hand and beckon him off of the chair, “Come on, we should go eat before Panda takes all the good sides for himself.”

Yuuta follows you back to the dorms with his stomach already full of love, love, love. He loves you, and you can hear, and see, and feel exactly what you do to him, and you don’t run. Yuuta thinks maybe you should, even though he doesn’t want you to. Surely you know what he did to Rika when he loved her.

Rika seems to like you, actually, if the humming of her voice in his head as he takes his seat at the table next to you is any indication. He can vaguely make out some of her words as you pass him the dumplings—warm, kind, loyal. He agrees. Pretty, too. No disagreement there.

In such a short amount of time, you’ve shifted Yuuta’s ethos for life. He wanted to die to be with the person he loved before, and never quite understood why Rika would stop him, why she would want him to suffer in this life alone; but maybe this is what Rika was always trying to tell him; that his love was not lost and buried with her, but flowing towards you, his heart, a beacon for you to locate.

You’d mentioned that he reminded you of someone you knew before, that you couldn’t see anymore. Yuuta doesn’t know what happened to your person before he came along; he can only hope that you’ll allow him and his heart to be a vessel for your love someday, too. He won’t disappoint you. He won’t let you let go of him.

It shouldn’t be hard. You already have his heart in your hands.

#2 — Gojo is more than a teacher. He is also the school event planner, once ranked Diamond in Overwatch, and is the only person blacklisted from any and all kitchens on campus. He also gives pretty good (sometimes questionable?) advice. His eyes are kind of scary.

You’re there when he and Toge are nearly decimated by the Grade 1 curse in the abandoned market. He still doesn’t understand much about sorcery at this point, so seeing people like you and Toge in action is awe-inspiring to say the least. Yuuta knows that Toge is nothing short of amazing, but he can’t help but to be drawn into you, you, you—your energy, your fighting style, the seemingly never-ending applications of your technique. Cursed energy in and of itself is still a foreign concept to him, so perhaps it’s that seeing you use the reverse of it so effortlessly is even more novel to him.

He can hear Rika strumming in the back of his mind, an indistinct itch and hum that sounds vaguely like laughter at his self-justification. He chooses to ignore her.

After, while he’s still buzzing with the tingly warm sensation of your technique after you’d patched him up, Gojo finds him, and Yuuta, unable to keep up a façade, pours all his anxious, worried, inquisitive feelings about his mission on the table.

“The way that (_____) can heal wounds... is that something I can learn?” Yuuta questions his teacher, eyes tired but genuine and earnest.

And Gojo, all knowing and absolutely singing at the implications, smiles so wide he’s certain his newest student could see the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, even through the dark tint of his glasses. “Maybe.”

He goes on, leaning back into the old loveseat, one leg crossed over his other knee, “You’ll probably be able to learn to heal yourself with reversed cursed technique, but using it to heal others is difficult and rare. Shoko and (_____) are the only people I know who can do it.”

“Is… did she get to learn it because she’s a Grade 1?” He remembers Maki explaining the ranking system for Jujutsu sorcerers. You and Toge were ranked the highest in the class, and amongst the other Kyoto students; it would make sense that you two have learned more applications of your techniques due to your higher placements.

Gojo chuckles, much to Yuuta’s confusion. “That’s not quite how it works—and if it were, then you’d already know because you’re a Special Grade. You don’t unlock new lessons as you move up, you move up because of how well you’ve learned to control and apply your own cursed technique.”

Right. That makes sense. Except Yuuta knows that his classification of Special Grade is a bit of a cheat because he can’t control or apply his cursed energy half as well as any of his classmates. He has Rika to thank for his immediate promotion, not himself or his own skills.

“In any case, if you do learn it, you’ll never be able to execute it like her, that’s for certain. Reversed cursed technique is complicated to learn and nearly impossible to teach. It’s one of those things you truly have to figure out for yourself when the timing is right—I only got it when I was on the brink of death. It’s 100% effective on the person doing it, but only 50% effective when applied to other people by the user,” Gojo says, “Except for (_____). She was born with reversed cursed energy, which is why she has an almost 100% output on herself and others, so she’s extra special. ”

Yuuta frowns. He never expected to do anything half as well as you, but knowing there’s only half a chance that he could, literally, only ever meet you half-way is frustrating. You can save him time and time and time again, as you already have, and all he can do is be a wound for you to stitch back together.

It must be difficult for you. A similar thought had crossed his mind when he first met Shoko-san, feeling bad for her having to carry the burden of healing others, knowing that she could never receive the same treatment in return. It’s worse for you, though, to be an angel amongst the men on this Earth—it’s not fair that you can give so much to help, and nobody can do the same for you. Yuuta wants to give something to you, he wants to devote himself to you, so at the very least, you have that. If he can’t give you anything else, he can give you himself.

Gojo laughs at Yuuta’s silence, kicking his legs up on the coffee table. “That’s hard for you to hear, huh? Ha! You truly are a lover, not a fighter, Yuuta.”

Yuuta blinks at him. “I, uh... thank you?” He says, even though he’s not so certain that those two things are discernable.

“Right now, the best thing for you to do is focus on controlling Rika and your cursed energy. That way, (_____) can also focus on fighting, and not healing, when you’re on missions together. The stronger you are, the less she’ll have to clean up after you,” Gojo advises.

He puts his feet back on the floor and uses the leverage to lean over, a bit too close for Yuuta’s comfort. “The only thing you can do for her is to learn to help yourself.”

Yuuta’s eyes go wide. He wants to—he wants to help you, wants to help himself, wants to help others, too. There’s a selfish twang for a moment, the thought of not needing you anymore tugging at his heart, but Rika reminds him that he’ll still want you.

Then an even scarier thought crosses his mind. “What happens if I don’t learn to control this? What happens if I curse her instead?”

Yuuta trembles at the thought, breathing and heartbeat erratic, his sensei moving back a bit. Rika is there again, reassuring him that he never hurt her, that his love never hurts, that the only person he’s ever truly harmed is himself by isolation of his own feelings. Trust her, Rika demands, she can handle this.

You can. Can you? You have, so far. You don’t run, you don’t push, you give, and give, and give to him; Rika was kind and playful and took and took and took Yuuta’s loneliness and sickness in stride and he still cursed her, seemingly for all eternity. He wants to love and be loved, but not if it means hurting you—isn’t it bad enough that he’s already inept at healing your wounds? Why should he risk giving you more?

“Yuuta,” Gojo calls him out of his thoughts, “I’m disappointed.”

That truly breaks Yuuta’s cyclical monologue. “I—disappointed?”

Gojo ticks his tongue, shakes his head and points a finger in accusation, “You should know your fellow classmates better by now. (_____) is not that weak or scared,” he chastises, “You’re so worried about cursing her that you haven’t realized that she is the only person so far to have effectively used her curse on you.”

Yuuta pauses, eyes wet with the awful realization that Gojo was right. You have already cursed him; your technique has already gotten past the barrier of his curse. You’ve cursed him. He never stopped to think that it was possible, worried only about himself. How selfish—he shares Gojo’s disappointment in himself.

He’s spent so much time loathing his jealous mind and decaying heart that he hasn’t opened his eyes to see you that you’ve found him. You can poison anything he does, and make the antidote with equal ease; how stupidly naive of Yuuta to think that he could be the one to diagnose or treat you better than you could him, or yourself.

“I’m sorry, sensei,” Yuuta dips his head, and also spares you an internal apology, “I understand better, now.”

“Is that so?” Gojo muses, leaning back into the sofa. His eyes scan Yuuta’s when his head is raised again, that knowing grin creeping back up on his lips. “Well, if you still want to know more about reversed curse technique, or want help learning it, it’s not an entirely lost cause. I’m definitely not the person for this lesson, but, you know who is?”

Yuuta feels a sense of whiplash from the change in Gojo’s demeanor. Confusion clouds his mind again, and he shrugs, “Um... Shoko-sensei?”

Gojo makes a loud buzzer noise, complete with crossing his arms in front of his chest in a big ‘X.’ Yuuta frowns again. Is that where Toge learned to do that?

“Wrong! I’m talking about (_____), obviously!” Gojo claps his hands together, before lowering his glasses to wiggle his eyebrows, “Tutoring is a textbook way to get some alone time, kiddo. You want to spend more time with her outside of class and missions, right?”

“I want to spend all my time with her,” Yuuta confesses, mindlessly. And foolishly, he soon realizes, when he sees that Gojo’s grin has tripled; and he’s quick to flash his hands to correct himself, “No—not like that—not in a creepy way! I just... I want to get to know her better, like you said.”

Yuuta’s awkward chuckles fill the space, and he can feel his insides burning from his cheeks all the way down to his hands. Would he ever be able to think coherently or tactfully when it came to you?

“So, uh... I... it’s okay if I ask her about this stuff, too?”

“Some sorcerers don’t like talking about their cursed techniques. But (_____) might not mind. You won’t know until you try.”

Yuuta nods shallowly. Try. He can do that—if not for himself, then for you; he can try for you. All you need from him is to accept your course of treatment; to love you is to let you curse him, completely.

“I’m a firm believer that all’s fair in love and war,” Gojo stands, stretching into Yuuta’s space to ruffle his hair. He leans down further, giving him a glimpse of his glowing eyes before sparing him a wink, “So, be a little greedy, and give it your best shot.”

#3 — Social media is the most twisted curse out there. It makes you feel so close, yet is a stark reminder of just how far you are from the person on the other end of the screen.

Yuuta has never considered himself good with technology. Even before Rika’s incident, he often felt ostracized by his peers because he didn’t have the same interest in or experience with games and cartoons. He had no reason to have a computer or a phone until enrolling at Jujutsu Tech, and there was an evident learning curve in navigating the devices. Toge often snickered watching Yuuta use his smartphone with the dexterity of a senior citizen.

He only barely set up Instagram and TikTok accounts with Toge’s help, but he doesn’t really get the idea of followers—why would people who don’t know him want to follow him? Why would he follow them? He doesn’t know many memes or jokes and even after seeing them, he doesn’t think many are all that funny, but he laughs anyway.

He doesn’t have much time to perfect his social media and meme skills, anyway. He’s dedicated to training and gaining mission experience—which pays off when Geto declares war on the school by the end of the year. Yuuta remembers how you returned his phone to him the next day, a few cracks and black, dark spots on the screen, giggling that you’d found it in the rubble, but that even your reverse cursed technique couldn’t fix its scars.

He thinks he gets the hang of it in the end—the basics of communication and the appeal behind connection with others through it—even going so far as to trade selfies with Gojo sometimes, who always seemed happy to receive them, no matter how much post-exorcism curse gunk Yuuta was covered in.

He also frequently exchanges texts with you. He much prefers to see you in person, but when you’re stuck for long hours in the ER, or away from campus on your own missions, Yuuta has grown fond of receiving your messages. He always attempts to read them in your voice and imagine your facial expressions to match those of the emojis you send. He hasn’t quite gotten the hang of those yet, doesn’t understand what Toge means when he says that not all smiley faces are created equally, so to save himself the trouble, and potential embarrassment, he’s opted to use emoticons instead. Which, if you asked him, has been working out in his favor, seeing as you call them cute.

Yuuta also uses the safety of his phone screen to implement some of Gojo’s advice; picking your brain about curses, sorcery, and healing via text message for just long enough for you to say it’s easier to explain in person to come to him and teach him in your spare time. Soon these study sessions turn into texts asking to hang out outside of class and missions and work, and Yuuta couldn’t be more elated. The screen he once scorned at seemed to be his one-way ticket to being able to talk to his favorite person constantly.

But Yuuta never thought it would become his only means of communication with you. He’s devastated when you break the news to him, over half-finished oolong tea and nervous finger-twiddling.

“You’re leaving?” He echoes, hoping he doesn’t sound too much like a heartbroken child, even though that’s exactly how he feels.

It’s quiet outside of the tea shop where you two sit, nearing seven in the evening; only the soft sounds of other customers conversing behind you two inside, distant cars on the main street, and the sound of Yuuta’s heart beating frantically.

“Not leaving leaving,” you clarify, pausing your finger twirling to place one of your hands over Yuuta’s on the table, “I’m still studying, but I’m being sent abroad for a bit.”

He should be focused on the fact that you’re touching his hand—Yuuta should be happy! Rika still cheers for you in his mind, but her voice is quieter now—but Yuuta can’t. He’s focused on everything else, spiraling about the implications of your words. You’re leaving... going away from him when things are going so well.

Yuuta was so happy when you taught him the reversed curse technique, even happier when he realized he did have the ability to heal others, knowing it also meant having the ability to help you relieve some of your burdens. That didn’t mean that he didn’t still want to give himself to you, he would if you’d have him—but now he wouldn’t have the chance.

“I haven’t told anyone else yet—Gojo only told me this morning,” you mumble, “I’m going to miss you all a lot, but we can still text every day! I don’t know how long the time difference will be, but we can FaceTime.”

It’s not lost on Yuuta that he is the first person that you’ve told about this. It’s another thing to be happy about, another little victory he never thought he’d achieve, but it’s still overpowered by the dread of you leaving him.

He blinks, placing his other hand atop yours, sandwiching them between his, “How long?” Yuuta can’t read the expression on your face, but you don’t pull your hand away. He’s glad. He didn’t think when he’d done it, but the lack of rejection feels good—your touch always feels good, reverse cursed energy or not.

“I’m… not sure—a few months at least, maybe until the end of the year,” you admit, squeezing his hand, “There are some cursed objects and scrolls they want me to help recover, and Gojo says I get to work with another Special Grade sorcerer, too.”

His hands feel so good, so warm, but everything else about Yuuta feels cold, icy with dread and fear. You’re going away for a long time, and he won’t get to see you or hear you laugh or feel your warmth while you’re gone. His sunny days are going away, and Yuuta honestly doesn’t know how many more overcast skies and rain clouds he can take.

And it’s selfish, he knows. He should be happy for you—you were chosen for this mission, for this training; you’re getting the chance to use your skills to help others, and train even further. So, why couldn’t he be happy for you? Why could he only feel a pit in his stomach about the thought of you leaving and meeting some other Special Grade who’s rightfully deserving of their title? Not only had he lost the thing that brought him to you in the first place, but you’re about to find another replacement. Sure, with or without Rika’s curse, Yuuta had become so much stronger, but what’s it worth if he couldn’t keep you by his side?

“Tsukumo is supposed to be really cool, but you’ll always be my favorite Special Grade, Yuuta,” you taunt with a smile.

Yuuta’s eyes go wide and watery with wobbly lips and flushed cheeked and sweaty palms to match. Favorite. Favorite, favorite, favorite. The word spoken in your voice rings in his head like a beautiful chime, the tones washing over him and erasing all his fear and doubt and insecurity.

You had called Yuuta your favorite. Sure, he’s still upset when he and the other first-years drop you off at the airport too weeks later, he still cries the first night you’re gone, still nearly breaks his knee trying to jump for his phone the first time that you call; but it’s okay because Yuuta is living off of the temporary high of being your favorite.

And also, because, in the end, your separation seems to have been inevitable. Not a month after everyone bids you farewell from Jujutsu Tech, Gojo tells him that he’s next on the docket to be sent abroad. He’s happy for a split second, thinking that he might get sent off to Europe where you’re still working with Tsukumo, but then Yuuta learns his true fate: studying under the tutelage of Miguel in Kenya; equal parts away from his classmates in Tokyo, and from you in Barcelona.

Whoever said distance makes the heart grow fonder was a liar and a bitch, because the favorite boy honeymoon comes to an end when Yuuta settles into his new room and makes his first call to you from Nairobi. The feeling and reality of being alone, and even further away from you finally hits him. Still, he relishes in the sound of your voice; fantasizes that when you reach for your phone to show him your new things, it’s you reaching for his hand; dreams of you laying next to him when you fall asleep on the call, and desperately wishes that he could touch you, hold you, kiss you.

He really wants to kiss you. He thinks he’s probably always wanted to kiss you, from the very moment his feelings for you started to grow; even if he couldn’t discern them at first, he knows now—Yuuta knows that he misses you like he’s never missed anyone before. The grief of losing part of Rika, and then losing his proximity to you merely weeks apart is finally catching up to him, and it’s morphing into a yearning that tugs on his heartstrings and rattles his brain.

He knows that the rate of growth of his feelings for you hasn’t been steady, but he blames you for that. You’re the reason he loves you so much, the reason he can’t sleep at night, the reason he learns how to bring Rika back—because he thinks of you, you, you, and how he lost Rika once, and he’d be a fool to lose you twice.

Yuuta thinks it’s no coincidence that your cursed technique has the ability to alter him in mind and body. You have so much ownership over him and you probably don’t even know that Yuuta has spent every single moment of his life living and breathing for you since you’ve met.

And you take his breath away yet again, when he gets to see you in Germany. Miguel is taking him to Switzerland on a classified mission, and you and Tsukumo are on your way to Austria, and by some great miracle, your layovers align. When he sees you waving to him down the long corridor in the airport, it feels like a scene straight out of his dreams. Yuuta spares no time trying to look cool or nonchalant; making a beeline to you, desperate to feel your touch after so long.

He’s breathless in those ten minutes that you’re reunited. Everything is too short, but he does his best to live in it all. He speaks a mile a minute, cramming in anything he hadn’t already revealed to you in your many late-night FaceTimes, and swallowing everything you tell him. He wants to believe that he’d made the best of what little time he had with you, but the truth is he didn’t. Because while you were smiling and hugging and telling him that you missed him, all Yuuta really wanted to do was kiss you—and if he were a smarter man, a better man, he would have.

He thinks, for a split second, that you might have wanted to kiss him too—when you rock back on your heels after saying good-bye, hesitating for just a moment, almost expectantly, before your eyes flutter away. He’ll never know, because he never asked, he never tried, he never said—only whispered, pathetically, to himself as he watches the silhouette of you and Tsukomo before you disappear for boarding, that he loves you.

He almost believes that you hear it when you turn over your shoulder after his quiet confession. Would it have been better that way—if he kissed you, or confessed in the heat of the moment—or would it be taking advantage of an otherwise beautiful moment? Yuuta will never know, and the what if tantalizes him.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens the thread of your messages. He starts typing, then stops. Backspace. Start typing. Pause. Read, re-read. Delete. Groan.

What’s the point? He can’t kiss you through the screen, and he’ll be damned if the first time he tells you that he’s in love with you is via phone call. He slumps his shoulders, and Miguel gives him a pity pat on the back. Yuuta goes to lock his phone when he sees the gray thought bubbles pop up below your last message and his entire body goes rigid in anticipation.

[received] 03:27 PM — [attachment: 1 image] — you should keep a closer eye on your things yuuta — i miss you already (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

Yuuta’s heart stops when he sees the picture of you in your seat, wearing his white uniform jacket. He doesn’t know when you snuck it away from him, but that doesn’t matter—like anything else, he would have willingly given it to you, and then some. It looks much better on you anyway, and Yuuta pinches his eyes shut for a brief moment, to swallow down the thoughts threatening to swarm his mind of you in his arms, in other clothes, in his bed.

He opens his eyes, takes a deep breath, and lets the warm, gooey feeling settle into his veins, and moves his fingers to type.

[sent] 03:38 PM — keep it, you can have anything of mine you want — i miss you more (๑′ ᴗ ‵๑)♥

You heart his messages and let him know you’re taking off soon, and putting your phone on airplane mode until you land. He’s not so confident to send a picture in return, unless you ask for it. Maybe you will, when you’re in Austria. He’ll have to work on his selfies.

He takes another once over the picture you sent, committing the idea of you in his clothes to memory. He knows the messages won’t delete themselves, but he takes a screenshot for safekeeping anyway. Maybe phones aren’t so bad, afterall.

#4 — Do not kill Itadori Yuuji. Under any circumstances. Even if some days you really feel like it. Also, sign up for a Crunchyroll subscription.

Yuuta can confidently say that his training abroad was both the most difficult and fulfilling thing he’s ever experienced. He believes that the change he’s endured is mostly good—he’s physically stronger, emotionally wiser, and overall more confident in himself and his cursed technique. One year ago, he would have been content with dying, but now he has more than enough reasons to keep living. He has people who care about him, and who would miss him if he were gone; and he’s got someone he would miss a whole bunch, too, should anything happen to them.

By miss Yuuta means that he might burn down a small town, might level a city, might flip the entire world on its axis if something were to happen to you. In his defense, he’d go to extremes for most of his friends—but for you, there’s truly nothing he wouldn’t risk.

He figured that out in his time abroad, too; came to terms with the fact that he’s selfish with his love. He loves too much, too hard, too close, and he isn’t very willing to share. He doesn’t see it as a bad thing, anymore, either—Yuuta knows now that the way he loves makes him who he is, and right now, he has the confidence to say that he likes that person, and that he loves you, undoubtedly.

So, forgive him if there’s a cloud of negative energy the size of a coach bus looming over him at the moment, because since you’ve returned to campus, Itadori Yuuji has been slobbering over you like a lovesick puppy.

Because apparently, you happen to know Itadori Yuuji—as in, since you were four and he was three, all the way up until your senior year of highschool, when you were scouted by Gojo, who, believes that you coming home from your study abroad trip would be the perfect time to reunite two best friends who hadn’t seen or heard from each other for the better part of two years—all while keeping this little reunion a secret from everybody, including you and Itadori.

A surprise, it certainly is, when the first time that Yuuta and the other second-years see you in months is on the dingy couch in the common room, under a cuddle pile of the first-years. Nobara’s arms wrapped around your left arm, body slumped against your side, Megumi’s long limbs stretching over Itadori’s torso, leaving the palm of his hand resting on your thigh. Far too close for Yuuta’s comfort. The only saving grace is that the jacket he loaned you is also spread across your lap, offering another layer between your body and his palm. And then there’s Itadori Yuuji, squished right between you and Megumi, with his head on your shoulder, his arms around your waist, and your free arm slung around his neck.

Yuuta should have been relishing in the fact that you were finally home, but all his focus is drawn to the way your position allows Itadori to cuddle right into you, to the way your arm is around his shoulder and your cheek pressed against the top of his head. You two might as well have been in your own little world, and Yuuta hates it. And, as if that’s not enough, the realization that he was not the first person to hug you or welcome you home clicks, and his anger bubbles deeper.

Next comes dread, that creeps in slowly when you and the first-years wake up, and you and Itadori go on and on and on about how surprised you were to see each other at the airport, how Itadori just assumed that when Gojo said he’d assigned them to “pick up something super special,” that he was messing with them, how you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of your precious, precious kouhai that you’d missed so dearly.

Childhood best friends brought back together through sorcery. Yuuta’s seen that one before, and he didn’t like the ending.

You and Itadori mend the gap in your friendship like two years of no contact was nothing, falling into a pattern that’s so easy and familiar, that it’s painful for Yuuta to watch. The assumption that you’d died, and the knowledge that Yuuji had actually died only served to strengthen your vows to protect each other in the name of your friendship from here on out.

Yuuta considers putting his own sword through his chest if it means you’ll swear your devotion to him. If he died, would you cry for him? Would you pray over his grave and beg for him to come back to you?—or would you find comfort in those who kept living, find solace in a friend who came back for you and can still hold you in his arms?

“Tsuna tsuna,” he hears from his left, followed by a mischievous giggle. Toge’s taunting is hardly enough to pull Yuuta out of his cloud of rage, but the blunt end of Maki’s staff is.

“Will you stop pining so damn hard?” she sneers, whipping the staff back to her side and placing a hand on her hip, “Not only is it pathetic, it’s gonna attract curses like flies to honey.”

“Why am I the only one getting hit?” He turns to his right to motion to Megumi, who seems to be brooding just as hard. Megumi respects you, but it was easy to see that he was reaching his limit on sharing his recently revived lover with someone else. Maki huffs, “Because he doesn’t have a literal cloud of darkness looming around him.”

Yuuta sighs, doing his best to reign in his feelings, but it’s pointless once he hears your laughter across the field—light and airy and sunshiney and all because of Itadori Yuuji.

What were you two talking about? If Itadori were out of the way, would you pledge yourself to Yuuta? Did he ever hold a space comparable to Itadori in your heart—would you let him?

A broken chord strikes Yuuta’s heart when he realizes that Itadori is the person you told him about last year; the person you missed so much, and you never thought you’d be able to see again; the person that Yuuta reminded you of; the person he was happy and eager to be for you. And now, in knowing Itadori, Yuuta thinks that his willingness was beautifully naive—to think that he could compare to someone like this. Itadori is light, where Yuuta is dark; he sees the best in people, where Yuuta manages to come off on the wrong foot always; he perseveres in faith and determination, where Yuuta is fueled by an anxious desire to prove, prove, prove himself to be worth something to anybody.

He can see how easy it is to love Itadori. It’s easy to cling to faith, to believe in something higher than yourself, to know that someone above can pull you up. Yuuta cannot compete where he cannot compare; he’s a shadow that engulfs you, takes you away from light, a dream that’s hard to wake up from. He could never be bright to you; his best attempt would probably drive you and him too close to the sun, martyred for love in burning flames.

Still, even in all his jealousy, Yuuta comes to the even more sobering realization that making Itadori disappear wouldn’t fix his problems. You told him he wasn’t Itadori’s replacement, but maybe that’s because he could never be him; maybe he doesn’t have to be. Yuuji could never be him, and he could never be Yuuji, but whether Yuuta likes it or not, he and Itadori are two sides of the same coin; and as such, Yuuta has, begrudgingly, grown to feel the same sense of responsibility over the younger boy that you do.

So, even though he never expected that they would both be at the mercy of your hand at the same time in this lifetime, he absolutely cannot kill Itadori Yuuji. Not only would it make you sad, but it would probably make Yuuta even sadder in the end, somehow. What a bother.

He’s about to get up—to leave, maybe go over there, he doesn’t know yet—but he stops when he hears a calm buzzing by his ear. Yuuta blinks, slowly, shoulders relaxing unconsciously, allowing the larger than normal honey-bee to land on him. He recognizes it as one of your shikigami—and even if he hadn’t, that familiar, cooling sensation that washes over him would have let him know—so, gently, he lifts a hand across his torso, allowing it to crawl onto his finger, and strum its tune.

Yuuta can feel a few more, hear them humming around him, and he closes his eyes, lets the small group of bees flutter around him and all that looming jealousy dissipates from his body.

Faintly, past the calm hum of the small swarm, Yuuta can hear the call of Yuuji’s voice, petulant, “Aw, no fair. Fushiguro, I want calming shikigami, too! Can you bring out the bunnies? Please.”

Beside him, Toge and Maki seem bemused by his newly calmed state, then amused when Megumi sighs, stands, and reluctantly pulls his hands together before a couple dozen white rabbits flood the field and hop onto Yuuji.

The buzzing grows softer, and then quiet. Briefly, Yuuta feels a bee land on his cheek, before it flies away, leaving the smell of fresh pollen in his wake, and when he blinks his eyes open again, you’re there, in front of him with a smile sweeter than anything he’s ever known.

“Hope they didn’t scare you,” you muse, waving a finger before the last bee hovering around you disappears, “You seemed upset, everything alright?”

He’s about to open his mouth to say something, anything, when he’s cut off by Itadori Yuuji once again, with one bunny on either shoulder, and three more cradled in his arms. “Hey, doesn’t (_____) totally remind you guys of Sakura!” 

Maki scoffs, albeit with amusement, as she points her staff at Yuuji’s hair. “If anyone bears resemblance to Sakura, it’s you, Itadori.” 

Yuuji actually makes an attempt to look at his own hair before chuckling. Yuuta flashes a look to Megumi, who looks equal parts exasperated and enchanted. Yuuta doesn’t get the reference, and when Inumaki starts making gestures about how Yuuji is like some Naruto guy and Yuuji screams about how Megumi resembles a Shikamaru, he becomes too afraid to ask. 

You seemed charmed at the end of the discussion, when everybody fundamentally agrees that you’re the Sakura of the group. Yuuta is far less charmed by these comparisons (and it has nothing to do with the fact that he didn’t get one). He doubts that this Sakura person can do what you can do, doubts that Sakura is even worthy enough to be compared to you, whoever she may be. 

And maybe Yuuta goes back to his room to watch several compilation videos about ships in Naruto later that day, but nobody has to know that. From what he’s gathered, Sakura is pretty cool, and even though Yuuji bears the most physical resemblance to her, he can see why everyone agrees that your healing abilities compare well to hers. Yuuta thinks you’re better, and he’s still holding out hope that there’s some other character equivalent for you that Itadori didn’t think of, that Yuuta can, just to prove that he knows you better. He doesn’t fight any comparisons between Gojo and Kakashi, though. That one honestly freaked him out a little.

If it turns out that you’re Sakura, then he should hope to be Sasuke, but Yuuta thinks this dude is kind of a dick. From the 47 minutes of scattered Naruto content that he’s consumed, he actually much prefers the dynamic between Sakura and Naruto, even if that does equate to Itadori Yuuji having a crush on you, at least you’re out of his league and chasing after somebody else.

Still, he thinks Sakura would be upset if Naruto actually died, or worse, if Sasuke actually killed him—never mind the fact that apparently he tried to kill her? Yuuta would never do that, but Sakura still seems to like Sasuke after all of that... in any case, Itadori Yuuji must live, and Yuuta must accept his fate as Sasuke reborn.

Though, to Yuuta’s understanding so far, Sasuke and Naruto are destined to duke it out and if only one of them has to survive, then maybe it’s not so bad to be this guy. Yuuta doesn’t know how it ends between them, but he thinks he could take on Itadori Yuuji if he had to. He won’t because he’s your friend, and Yuuta’s friend now, too, but if Itadori or the curse inside of him acts up, then Yuuta can at least rest assured he can put a stop to it. That’s not something he could have guaranteed a year ago, but now, he can.

Yuuta sighs, finally locking his phone and shoving his head under his blanket. He’s been knee deep in analyses about Sakura ships for the past two and a half hours now, and he’ll admit Sasuke is growing on him, but not much. His only saving grace seems to be that Sakura is madly, unconditionally in love with him; Yuuta wouldn’t mind having that kind of devotion from you. He turns to lay on his back, staring up at the blank ceiling and wonders: if it came down to saving only one of them, would Sakura pick Naruto or Sasuke... would you choose the boy who’s loved and looked up to you since you were kids, or the boy who sacrificed everything in hopes of gaining enough strength so that what happened to him never happens to anyone else.

Maybe they answer that in the series, Yuuta reasons. 720 episodes, at 20 minutes per episode... if he devotes about half-a-day to watching Naruto, then he can breeze through it in a little over two weeks, maybe sooner if he uses his weekends efficiently. That’s plausible, and by the end of it, Yuuta is certain that he’ll have the answers he needs—and even if it doesn’t, then at least, he’ll have one more thing to talk to you about.

In the end, Sakura picks Sasuke, Naruto marries somebody else, and Yuuta understands that the two were never opposites, but complements, and that Itadori Yuuji-shaped pit in his stomach dissipates. Still, about three weeks later at breakfast he makes the argument that if anything you’re more akin to Tsunade, minus the gambling addiction, and that gets him rave reactions from everyone, including you, who is more than happy to show him your new slug shikigami as a means of commemorating your new Naruto kin.

Believe that, Itadori.

#5 — None of this matters if you don’t kiss her. You have to kiss the girl—or she’ll get mad enough to the point where she’ll kiss you.

The following month comes your indictment into the Semi-Special Grade hall of responsibility. Yuuta vaguely recalls Gojo’s lecture on how people don’t really get promoted to Special Grade—it’s classification you’re born or cursed with, like himself, or Yuuji, or Tsukumo—but, you, of course, defy all odds and expand everything Yuuta knows. Nobody is surprised—Yuuta thinks everyone was among the similar thought that you were undoubtedly unique amongst your classmates, in a way that was different from him or Yuuji. Being born with a body that generates reversed cursed energy instead of cursed energy is deserving of Special Grade status if you asked him; he doesn’t know what pushed the higher-ups into finally acknowledging your skill, but he knows it’s well-past due. And while he’s happy you’re getting recognition for your efforts, Yuuta would never wish to saddle you with half of the shit the higher-ups put him through.

They better hope that Yuuta doesn’t find out that they’re plotting anything with you, lest they meet the end of his sword.

Part of your promotion entails a dual-degree program that will have you starting medical school next fall. Yuuta almost cries at the thought of you being sent away again, until you tell him that Gojo managed to pull a few strings this time—to fund everything and keep you in Tokyo.

And even though you’re not licensed to treat civilians yet, you’re already more than experienced with taking care of and healing your fellow sorcerers, which lends Shoko’s promotional gift to be a shiny new office, right across from hers. Yuuta is the first person you invite inside, and he brings you a photo of you, him, Maki, and Toge from last year—honestly, probably the only photo the four of you have together—to christen your desk, and a plaque with your name on it for the door, that he may or may not have fantasized about it reading with your first name and his last name on it instead.

To no surprise, your office becomes a safe haven of sorts. Yuuta would define any time or place with you as a safe haven, but there’s something special about this place. Maybe Yuuta is still leaping from this being the second time you’ve chosen him. He’s the first person to see your office, the first person to sit at your chair, your first official patient when he stubs his toe against the corner of your desk (where he left the first decorative object). Maybe it’s a little far to say that this place has him all over it as much as it does you, but Yuuta likes the sound of that.

When he comes back from gruesome missions, he’s invited to let himself in, no matter how much blood he’s covered in, and you’ll be there to take care of him. It’s not different than before—not different than even last year when he’d waddled in your shadow to the room across the hall and sat down with heart palpitations while you fixed his wrist—but something about this feels special. It holds a different weight than hanging out in your dorm or cooking together in the kitchen; this office is yours, the things you say and do to him here are confidential, the yearning for and almost-kisses you almost have are for you and him alone; within these four walls, you’re free to curse him completely.

So, he’s understandably upset when your office becomes a cozy corner for the other students as well. Maki likes to take refuge inside to study alone, Panda and Toge have been caught on more than one occasion attempting to wrap gauze around each other like zombies, Megumi uses your supplies and basic first-aid lessons to prepare small kits for him and the other first-years, hell, even Gojo has been found asleep in your office on more than one occasion. He gets why people are drawn to you like a magnet, why you’re comforting, and welcoming, and a source of warmth for them, but that doesn’t mean that Yuuta likes to share you. It’s much harder to almost-kiss you this way.

He must have pouted loud enough about it, because shortly after, instead of inviting Yuuta to your office for lunch, you ask him to meet you on the field. Not one to question you, he obeys, and soon, instead he’s met with an entirely new safe haven, sitting criss-cross inside your domain with all your shikigami slithering and fluttering and buzzing about him. A butterfly lands on his nose, and Yuuta’s nose crinkles. You lean in to let it crawl on your finger instead, and don’t lean too far back when you slowly begin to explain to him the intricacies of your domain and how it all comes together.

It’s amazing, surely. Yuuta listens as best he can, but it’s hard when there’s a halo of butterflies around you, and a symphony of bees buzzing in his ear, and a slug kissing at his hand, and a snake coiling around his body and gently massaging his muscles, and your voice sound so soft and warm, and you look so pretty and, and, and he wants to kiss you again.

He wants to kiss you really badly. He wonders if that’s part of your domain—honestly, he’d wondered if that magnetic, honey-like attraction he has to you is in any part influenced by your healing nature—wonders if the confines of your space exacerbates the flow of blood to his heart and his cheeks and his—

“Are you listening?” you question, that glowing, addictive smile on your face, “You know I can make the snake bite, the bees sting.”

God, Yuuta wants to kiss you. He wants to live in the spring garden of your love forever, and ever, and roll around in the grass and drink honey with you, and kiss you and kiss you and kiss you. You could keep him here forever, he’d be perfectly content with living his days wrapped up in your curse.

Yuuta shakes his head to snap out of his daydream, disrupting a few butterflies in the process. “I—sorry,” he apologies, “I’m listening now.”

You hum, folding your legs underneath your knees and sitting before him. Yuuta’s certain he looks slightly ridiculous, covered head to toe in animals and small insects and burning underneath your gaze—wasn’t this domain supposed to help people feel better? Is there no cure for lovesickness that you can use on him—or, at the very least, embarrassment?

“I asked you why you won’t kiss me.”

Yuuta knows that if he weren’t in your domain right now, he would have fallen to a sudden death. “I—I, um,” words, Yuuta, words; a bee lands on his cheek, he takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”

That doesn’t seem like the right answer, judging by the twist of your lips. Of course it’s not—because it’s a lie, and you know it, and you know he knows that you know it. How could he be sorry for wanting you, for spending every last waking moment breathing for you, hoping that you’ll end his laborious breaths and pour air into him yourself?

“You know, I brought you in here to make sure that you wouldn’t run or pass out on me,” you confess, reaching out your hand towards him; the tip of your finger barely grazes his cheek as you allow the bee to crawl onto you, “I worry about your heart more than I should.”

You flick your finger gently, allowing the bee to flutter freely and your eyes to focus back on Yuuta’s, “Right now, in this domain, it’s mine to control. To stop, to beat.” It’s yours outside of here, too; to fix, to break. He knows. He knows, he knows, he knows. “Why won’t you let me have it, Yuuta?”

Yuuta gasps, and despite his surprise, despite his extreme lovesickness, despite his dark desires, his heartbeat remains steady, his body remains perfectly tempered and cool, his voice resonates clearly—all because of you.

“You’ve always had it,” he confesses, “Always. From the moment I met you.”

He can’t read your expression. He’s suddenly hyper aware of the power struggle here; domain aside, you can hear everything about him, sense the slightest physiological change in him, alter any one of his bodily functions at your whim and Yuuta doesn’t know what goes on in you. Would it be wrong to confess that he likes it; that this feels like you having him, that he likes knowing you can take him?

“I thought so, maybe,” you enlighten him, “Last year with all the calls and texts,” you lean over and set free a butterfly from his shoulder, “And then in the airport,” then guiding the snake to coil around your arm and around your torso, “And then I thought maybe you’d have said something when you were jealous of Yuuji,” this time your hand touches him, a feather-light touch to his elbow, “But you didn’t, and I was beginning to wonder if I was hearing your heart beat for someone else, instead.”

Yuuta grabs at your hand erratically, “No—no. Never.”

He’s senselessly in love with you, and if it weren’t for your healing hands, Yuuta’s certain his ribs would have cracked from the pressure of his happy heart by now; but then again, maybe he should ask you to let it break—let that fracture serve as an entry point for you and yours, to prove to you that it beats for you and you alone.

“So then what is with you? You have a habit of giving girls your heart and not kissing them, or asking them out—is it always straight to marriage with you?”

It’s torture hearing that word fall from your lips. He doesn’t have time to even begin to process it. Yuuta’s eyes flicker to the smile on your lips, the slight tilt of your head. He says something he shouldn’t, “Would you be opposed to that?”

“I’d like a kiss first,” you tease, “Would you give me one?”

And how could he ever deny you anything. There, with a harmony of beautiful insects and warm sunlight, Yuuta finally, finally, takes the last move forward to kiss you. It’s everything he wants and exactly as he’d imagined—he can feel the rush in his bones, the want in his stomach, the love against his skin when you fall into him.

It’s one kiss, and another, and then Yuuta can feel your tongue against his, greedily falling into the rush of you. He’s everywhere, hands on your neck, lips on yours, body stradling yours when he carefully leans you backwards; Yuuta has you, and you have him, and he won’t let this moment go to waste. He pulls away for a moment, only a moment, to take in your kiss-swollen lips and commit this vision to memory. He’ll have to take another visual photograph outside of your domain, when your bodies are free to breathe erratically and equilibrium is broken so you and truly, truly, feel all of Yuuta’s love in earnest.

He wonders if it’s the effect of your domain that prevents his nerves from running haywire when you take off his shirt, when you let him take off your pants, when you have your hands on his chest and his on your hips. It must be. Yuuta knows for certain that otherwise, he’d be a blushing mess of fumbling limbs and stuttering words.

Still, Yuuta thinks, domain or no domain, he wouldn’t let this moment pass him. It’s not nerves when his hand brushes over your clothed clit and he hears you moan—even if it had been, that would have been the antidote to his poison. Lust, pressure, possession wash over him in excruciating waves. He wants more. He wants you.

Impatience when he adds pressure with his hand, bliss when you buck your hips to add more of your own, greedily grinding against his fingers. Yuuta kisses you again, swallows your moans and feeds you his own when slips his hand past the barrier of your underwear, and he feels your warm, wet cunt against his fingertips for the first time, and when he pushes two fingers into your heat, he thinks he could cum right then and there, from this alone.

“Yu—Yuuta, more,” you plead. Your hand on his neck, fingernails scraping into his skin that should leave a mark. They probably won’t. He’ll be sure that next time they stick.

And Yuuta, unable to deny you anything, obeys. He curls his fingers inside of you, thrusting gently at first, and then with more confidence—and warning, when he hears you snarl about not teasing. Ironic, he thinks, as he watches your lips fall open, since you’ve had him strung along since day one.

“I wanna—wanna cum with you inside,” you moan, a sound that Yuuta promises to commit to memory. Later, when his brain is working better, and the coil in his stomach isn’t so tight, and you’re not clenching around his fingers.

You’re greedy, and Yuuta’s never realized it. You suck him in and still want more, and you must know that he’ll give it to you. It should serve as a warning, you have the high-ground to take him any which way you want—for a fool, for granted, for yourself, for nobody else; so what does it say about him that it only spurs his arousal, that it makes him impossibly hard and he can feel himself leaking from the thought of it.

“I want that, too,” he reassures you, leaning down to press his forehead against yours, because you’re perfect for him, “But I want this first. Give me this first, please. Please.”

He thinks you might cry. The rational part of him knows you can regulate it, that you probably won’t; the sick part of him wants to see it, wants to know what it takes to make you lose control.

You call his name like a prayer, once, twice, and on the third time, Yuuta can feel it as much as he can hear it. He can feel the moment that your walls clench, and your eyes screw shut, and your body convulses around him. You’re beautiful, irreverent, and Yuuta thinks that being responsible for this is the greatest achievement of his life.

He wears your orgasm with pride, raking over you as you blink your eyes open to him again. You’re lucid too quickly, he really is going to have to take the time to enjoy this somewhere less controlled later, eagerly wrapping your hand around his wrist and forcing them to his mouth. Yuuta groans when he tastes you on his tongue, nothing short of euphoric, and he’s sure to taste every last drop.

You smile, and then laugh—an almost inaudibly giggle that has Yuuta smiling back reflexively. Like always, he follows your every move and succumbs to all your whims when you lean up to kiss him, and then coax off his pants and underwear, and line the tip of his dick up with your slit and pull him in, again, by the neck to bite at his ear, “Come on, Yuuta. Give it to me.”

An order, a promise, a plea—Yuuta vows to fulfill them all, determined and spell-bound when he sinks into you. He can only imagine what it feels like for you, but for him it’s warm, wet, soft, snug, sticky—like honey, like a bee drawn to sweetness. It’s good, too good, Yuuta doesn’t know how to last when you feel this good.

He can feel you everywhere, around his dick, your hands on his back, your breath on his cheek, your skin against his. He feels stuck to you, stuck in you, mind, body, and soul as one, unable to differentiate him from you, from you, from you.

“Fuck,” Yuuta stares, carefully swiping a thumb over your browbone, conscious but not in command on how deep he’s thrusting into you, “You’re so—fuck, I love you.” He wants to hear you say it back, he needs to, he has to. He can feel it again, stomach in knots, and nerves on fire, and skin sticky, and Yuuta has to know—“Please, please. Do you love me, too?”

You stutter, only from the rock of his hips into yours, reaching for his face and cradling it between healing hands, “Of course I love you, Yuuta.” His mouth opens, wobbly, and tears flow over his eyes—briefly, Yuuta thinks that it’s cruel that you’d let him cry; that you have command over every function in his body and that you’d let him cry, but he can’t bring himself to be upset. He’d probably have cried regardless, because hearing you say that you love him is a rush comparable only to burning tightness in his gut right now.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling his lips to yours when you finally let go together. Yuuta can feel you tight around him, when he cums; and an unfiltered harmony of moans and skin on skin when he lays on top of you, sinks into you. Your hands don’t leave his hair, and Yuuta finds bliss in your affection, in being in your arms, in being yours.

He doesn’t know how long you two stay like that, he doesn’t know if physical time passes in your domain, but it doesn’t matter. He’d stay here forever with you, let you use the full extent of your prowess to eat his heart out as sustenance, bleed for you to quench your thirst. He’d be everything you need and more; he’ll make sure that he’s all you want when it’s done and over.

2K notes · View notes

saltedpineapple · 9 months

Text

So JJK is over and my LMK brainrot is back , added with the fact i am playing a MOBA game and am being blessed with delicious illustrations it prompted me to make this

Now i am going to ramble about this because this is the first time in forever where i kinda pushed myself to make a FULL art piece-

I will be standing for this-

Let me tell you, i had no confidence in this and the composition was supposed to be way different, but this still happened. This took two days because i kept procrastinating , walking around my room dreading drawing the background BIG ADVICE FOR BEGINNER ARTISTS Watch speedpaints. You will learn so much by watching the process and that was this for me I have the tendency to kinda burn myself out and finish everything in a day and then never actually finishing. Tried something different for this and made a cheap silhouette of a sketch, then drew over that and used greys and whites fort the shadows. Then i think i colored everything in a base color (and i finally used a palette) and then i tried to find the lighting and shadow colours. It was weird. And what im saying is that i planned most of it instead of diving head in withour a plan. Crazy i know-

I also just learned about dpi PROPERLY and unfortunately made my piece so big that it kept stalling paint tool sai-

let me just post the progress shots

I also fucked up macaques reference and fixed it in a whim somewhere. You can see it here. I honestly wasn't planning to follow the lmk at style but that kinda happens when you're starring too much at the references.

There's still a mess and i wanted to render it a bit better ,the way i normally do but i didn't. Anyways i did enjoy the process and i actually miss them so much and i might watch LMK all over again Especially Wukong and MK

Btw this was supposed to be a moving illustration and i just didn't

I have Live2D but no

(Btw please check out my profile if you have the chance and thank you for reading this! Love you-)

#lmk art #lmk sun wukong #lmk fanart #lmk macaque #lego monkey kid fanart #lego monkie kid #lmk monkey king #lmk shadowpeach #shadowpeach #six eared macaque #lego monkie king #OK BUT I FOUND OUT HOW TO DO THE EFFECT IN THE FIRST AND I FELT LIKE A KID ON CHRISTMAS #btw im sorry i dont ever post anything for any holidays #it will be the same for the chinese new year and valentines day

2K notes · View notes

kairoot · 2 months

Text

𝑴𝑶𝑶𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 — 西村力.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: during the village’s annual moon festival, the moon shines big and bright. legend says that it reveals a person’s true emotions under its light and can rekindle lost feelings. when you move to the little romance village, it’s bustling with talk of the festival and a famous local painter. deciding to see what the gossip was about, you attend said moon festival. but what happens when you run into this unknown artist under the moon’s light?

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: niki x 𝑓．𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 : fluff , s2l, soulmates (???), folklore kinda thing.. 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 : no 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : riki is kind of a loner .. ( 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒏’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 ) : special thank you to nini ^^ @flwrstqr for proofreading for me, I love u ♡︎. pls leave reblogs, they are much appreciated !! ♡︎ WC: 3.3K

THE VILLAGE SQUARE WAS a kaleidoscope of lights, colors, and laughter. Lanterns hung from just about every surface, casting a warm, golden glow over the cobblestone streets. The air was full of sweet scents, coming from every corner of the small town.

You weaved through the large crowd, taking in all of the sights and sounds. It was beyond anything you’d ever experienced. Being a new resident to the town, you couldn’t understand what all of the excitement was about over one festival but now you felt the same way everyone else did.

Melodic strains of the village’s music played, causing people all around to dance together, not caring if they were strangers to one another. You smiled, the sight somehow bringing you joy.

After walking a few miles, an older shop catches your eye. The traditional decorations hanging outside the tiny building, with a crescent moon sketched on the wooden door. You opened it to walk in, the small bell ringing as the door moved.

You were greeted with the sharp tang of an earthy aroma of dried clay and the rich smell of more wood from the easels, frames, and shelves. The subtle hint of fresh pencil shavings, and the crisp scent of new canvases waiting to be transformed.

A few employees smiled and waved at you, their kindness making you feel welcome as you got ready to explore this new environment. The store was quiet; the only noise being a few painters conversing with one another, the low traditional music that played in the background, and pencils or paintbrushes moving against the canvases.

You walked further into the shop, wandering around the shelves to look at different tools and paintings that had been hung up on display.

You ran your hand over the wooden shelf, another crescent moon etched into the dark surface.

This town is serious about the moon, you thought.

You continued your mini journey through the aisles, amazed by some of the artistry inside of them.

But a certain painting seems to pique your interest. You let your feet guide you to the image, captivated by the delicate brushstrokes that brought the scene to life. Just as you let your fingertips graze the painting, another hand brushed against yours. Startled, you pulled your hand away at the same time as the other person’s, causing the art to fall to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologize to the stranger, before you both chuckle at the small incident. The stranger crouches to pick the canvas up from the ground, holding it with a firm grasp.

You look up, only to see a much taller male in front of you, dressed in all black with a paint splattered apron tied around his waist. His eyes sharp but filled with surprise as he stared back at you.

His beauty captivated you in a way. In a way where you couldn’t even find your words or perhaps even start a conversation.

You both stood silently until he sucked in a breath, hesitant on whether he wanted to say something.

“So, uh—, arts’ your thing, too?” He glanced at the painting in his hands and then back at you, a gentle smile making its way to his face.

“I guess I’ve found it kind of interesting lately,” you beamed, feeling a bit more at ease. “What about you?”

“Yeah, uh, this is mine actually..” He trailed off. Your eyes widened in surprise, suddenly feeling guilty for the incident that had occurred a few minutes earlier.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to knock it down, I was just curious, and—“

He looked down, chuckling, “It’s no problem. I was thinking of chunking it anyway.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “But it’s way too good for you to just throw away like that.”

He shrugged, still smiling a bit. “I don’t know.. I’m just not too fond of it.”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “Why’s that? It seems really beautiful to me.”

He looked at you with a spark of enthusiasm in his eyes. “Well, if you’re interested, you can make your own. I give mini-lessons from time to time. If you’re free, I’d be happy to show you some techniques.”

A smile crept onto your face. “I’d love that.”

“I’m Riki, by the way.” He extended his larger hand.

You shook his hand, the warm and firm grip making you feel as if you had butterflies in your stomach.

“Y/n.”

The sunlight filtered gently through the shop's windows, casting a warm, inviting glow over the art supplies and canvases. You arrived at the store a bit early, your excitement barely contained. Riki was setting up a small workspace in the back corner, his movements precise and deliberate. The room was filled with the rich scents of paint and wood, a comforting backdrop for the lesson ahead.

“Hey,” Riki greeted as you walked in, his smile making your heart flutter. “Ready for your mini-lesson?”

You nodded, trying to maintain a calm exterior but feeling a tingle of nerves. “Definitely!”

Riki’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he motioned for you to join him at the small table. “Alright, grab an apron and we’ll start with some basics. I’ll show you how to create depth and texture in your painting.”

You took one of the dark aprons off of the hook by the door and took a seat. Riki’s proximity made you acutely aware of his presence. He stood close enough that you could catch the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the earthy aroma of the paint. As he demonstrated the brushstrokes, his hand occasionally brushed against yours, sending a shy smile to your lips.

“Alright, so you want to use a light touch for the highlights,” Riki said, his voice warm and encouraging. He leaned in slightly to show you the technique up close, his face just inches from yours. The closeness made your cheeks warm, and you found it hard to focus on the painting as you became acutely aware of the soft sound of his breath and the gentle way he spoke.

“Like this,” he continued, guiding your hand with his own. His fingers were careful and steady, and you felt a gentle pressure as he helped you maneuver the brush. “The key is to layer the colors gradually, so it builds up the texture without looking too harsh.”

His hand lingered on yours for a moment longer than necessary, and you couldn’t help but glance up at him. Riki’s eyes were soft, and his smile was reassuring. “You’re doing great. Just remember to relax and let the brush do the work.”

You nodded, trying to steady your breath as you followed his instructions. The way he spoke to you, with such patience and attentiveness, made your heart race. Each time he leaned in to offer guidance, you felt a flutter of shyness but also an endearing sense of comfort.

Riki moved to the other side of the table, giving you space but still offering occasional tips and encouragement. “You’re really picking this up fast,” he said with genuine admiration, his voice carrying a note of pride. “You have a natural eye for detail..”

You blushed at his compliment, focusing on your painting with renewed determination. “Thanks. I’ve really enjoyed learning from you.”

He smiled warmly, his eyes reflecting a hint of something more than just professional interest. “I’ve enjoyed having you as my ‘student’.”

As the lesson continued, you found yourself growing more confident. Riki’s careful instruction and the way he interacted with you made the experience both educational and heartwarming. Every time he offered a correction or praised your work, it felt like a gentle nudge toward something greater.

By the end of the session, you were both smiling, the painting before you a testament to the techniques Riki had shared. “I think you’re ready for more advanced techniques next time,” he said, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. “But for now, you’ve done really great.”

You beamed, feeling a mix of accomplishment and affection for the kind-hearted teacher who had made your art journey so special. “Thank you. I can’t wait for our next lesson.”

As you packed up your things, Riki’s gaze lingered on you with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. “I’m looking forward to it too,” he said softly. “See you soon.”

You left the shop with a smile, carrying not just the knowledge of painting but also the warmth of a shared connection.

A few days later, the festival was in full swing again, but this time it was a different night. You decided to take a quiet walk to a nearby beach, not too far from the festival setup. The moon hung low in the sky, casting its silver light over the ocean waves.

You carried with you a small set of painting materials, inspired by the techniques Riki had taught you. Setting up on the sand, you began to paint the scene before you: the moonlit waves and the gentle shimmer of the water. With each brushstroke, you used the tips he had given you, trying to capture the serene beauty of the moment.

The night was quiet, save for the soft sound of the waves and the occasional distant laughter from the festival. As you worked, you felt a sense of peace and contentment, lost in the beauty of the moment.

After a while, you sensed someone approaching. Turning slightly, you saw Riki walking towards you, his eyes bright with curiosity and admiration. He stopped a few feet away, watching you paint with a soft smile on his face.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice gentle. "I didn't expect to find you here."

You smiled back, feeling a flutter of happiness at his presence. "I needed some quiet time to practice. I’ve been kind of inspired."

Riki moved closer, sitting down next to you on the sand. His proximity was comforting, and you felt a warm sense of connection as he admired your work. "You've really captured the essence of the scene," he said, his eyes scanning your painting. "It's like seeing the world through your eyes."

His compliment made your heart swell with pride. "Thanks.. I’ve been trying to use the techniques you taught me.”

“Oh, really?” He raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on his face. “My techniques?”

You chuckled lightly, nodding, “Yes, your technique.”

You continued to paint, occasionally glancing at Riki, who watched with genuine interest.

The moonlight cast a soft glow on his features, making the moment feel even more magical. After a while, Riki spoke, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.

"You know, the legend of the moon... it's said to reveal the truth about one's emotions," he began, his eyes fixed on the waves. "I've always been afraid to let the moon see mine, not after what happened before."

You looked at him with curiosity. “What happened?”

He sighed softly, looking out at the ocean. “I once let the moonlight reveal my true feelings and it led to heartbreak. It was... painful.. But that’s a story for another day..”

He turned to you, his eyes sincere and vulnerable. “Somehow, being with you, I don’t feel that fear. There’s something about tonight, and about you, that makes me believe in the magic of the moon again.”

You felt a pang of sympathy and reached out, gently placing your hand on his. “Riki, you don’t have to talk about it if you’re not comfortable.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. “Thank you. It’s just... hard to think about sometimes. The pain was so real, and it made me afraid to show my true emotions again.”

You squeezed his hand gently, offering him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. Take your time. I’m here. Though we met nights ago, I’m here.”

Riki‘s eyes softened, and he gave you a small, appreciative smile. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

The moon’s light bathed the beach in a gentle glow, illuminating the quiet understanding between you. Riki’s honesty and openness resonated deeply, and you felt a sense of connection that was both comforting and profound.

He shifted slightly, moving closer to you until your shoulders almost touched. The warmth of his body next to yours was a silent reassurance, a wordless promise of support. “You’re really something, you know that?” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you turned to look at him, finding his gaze already on you. “I could say the same about you,” you replied, feeling the intimacy of the moment deepen.

Riki’s eyes held a mixture of vulnerability and strength, a silent testament to the pain he carried and the bravery it took to admit it. He took a deep breath, his fingers brushing against yours as he spoke. “It’s just... sometimes the memories are too painful. But being here with you, it makes it a little easier to bare.”

You felt a surge of tenderness for him, your heart aching at the thought of the hurt he’d endured. “I’ll be here, whenever you’re ready.”

He nodded, his eyes glistening with unspoken emotion. “Thank you. It’s... it’s a lot, but knowing I have someone who understands means everything.”

The waves whispered their secrets to the shore, and the moon shone down, wrapping you both in its gentle embrace. The moment was filled with quiet revelations and tender support, a reminder that sometimes, the simple act of being present could be the greatest comfort of all.

As the night continued, you returned to your painting, the brush gliding smoothly across the canvas. Riki watched you with a gentle smile, his eyes filled with admiration and something more—a tenderness that was growing stronger with each passing moment.

Unbeknownst to both of you, the moonlight was beginning to take effect, subtly enhancing the emotions between you. Every glance exchanged, every soft touch, carried a deeper meaning, an unspoken promise of what could be.

You finished your painting, setting the brush down and turning to Riki. He reached out, taking your hand in his. “Come on,” he said softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Let’s take a break.”

He led you to the water’s edge, where the waves gently lapped at the shore. The cool water splashed over your feet, sending a delightful shiver up your spine. Riki laughter filled the air, infectious and free, and you couldn’t help but join in.

You ran along the shoreline, the waves chasing after you, and for a moment, all your worries melted away. Riki caught up to you, grabbing your hand and spinning you around, both of you laughing as you stumbled into the shallow waves.

The moonlight danced on the water, casting a magical glow over everything. You splashed each other, the cool water mingling with the warmth of your laughter. Riki’s hand never left yours, his grip firm yet gentle, grounding you in the moment.

At one point, he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as the waves rolled in. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you under the moon’s tender gaze. You looked up at him, your heart swelling with an emotion you couldn’t quite name but felt deeply in your soul.

“Riki,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the ocean.

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “I know,” he replied softly, his breath mingling with yours. “I feel it too.”

The moonlight seemed to intensify, casting a silver halo around you both. The moment stretched, filled with unspoken words and shared feelings. Then, with a gentle tug, Riki led you back to the shore, where you sat together, the waves gently lapping at your feet.

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth seep into you. The night was filled with love-filled glances and quiet intimacy, a perfect blend of comfort and connection. The magic of the moon had done its work, weaving a spell of closeness that would linger long after the night had ended.

You both sat in comfortable silence for a while, the rhythmic sound of the waves providing a soothing backdrop. Riki’s fingers traced gentle patterns on your hand, his touch sending a pleasant shiver through you. He seemed lost in thought, and you didn’t want to disturb the quiet peace that had settled over you both.

But then, as if needing to break the silence, he spoke again, his voice soft and filled with emotion. “You know, sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever fully heal from what happened. It’s like a part of me is still stuck in that moment.”

You turned to him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. “Healing takes time, Riki. And it’s okay to feel that way. Just remember, you don’t have to face it alone.”

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I do. Whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be here. And if you’re not ready, that’s okay too.”

Riki’s gaze softened, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours.

The intimacy of the moment deepened, the air around you thick with unspoken emotions. Riki’s fingers continued to trace gentle patterns on your hand, each touch sending a warm, tingling sensation through you. You could feel the connection between you growing stronger, the bond solidifying in a way that felt both natural and profound.

As the night wore on, the two of you shared stories, laughter, and moments of comfortable silence. You found yourself opening up to him in ways you hadn’t expected, sharing parts of yourself you usually kept hidden. Riki listened with genuine interest, his responses thoughtful and kind.

Eventually, the lure of the waves became irresistible again, and you found yourselves splashing through the shallows, once again, laughing and playing like children. Riki’s laughter was infectious, his joy a balm to your soul. You chased each other through the surf, the cool water a delightful contrast to the warmth of your growing affection.

At one point, Riki caught you around the waist, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. You laughed, the sound pure and free, your heart swelling with happiness. He set you down gently, his arms still wrapped around you as the waves hit your ankles.

The moonlight bathed you both in its gentle glow, casting a magical light over the scene. Riki’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

“Thank you for tonight,” he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. “For everything.”

You smiled, your heart full. “I should be the one thanking you. This has been... amazing.”

Riki’s eyes held a promise, a silent vow of what could be. “Let’s make a pact,” he said softly. “No more hiding. From the moon, from each other, from ourselves.”

You nodded, feeling a surge of hope and determination. “Deal.”

The night continued, filled with love-filled glances, quiet intimacy, and the gentle lapping of the waves. The magic of the moon had woven a spell of connection and understanding, one that would linger long after the festival lights had faded. As the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, you knew that this night would be a cherished memory, a moment of pure, unadulterated connection.

And as Riki‘s hand found yours once more, you knew that even if you had met only nights before, for some reason you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

✩

TAGLIST: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun @jungwonderz @enha-stars @dioll @jakesangel @cupidscourt @violetwitchmcu @haohaoshoe @randomgirl02228 @wonsdoll @powerpuffstuts @flwrstqr @elysianiki — send an ask to join.

#kairoot #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #niki enhypen #enhypen niki #nishimura riki #niki x reader #niki fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fic #enhypen ff #enhypen fanfiction #𝒮𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑒𝑑，ℳ𝑖𝑙𝑎𝑛 ⊹ ₊˚

470 notes · View notes