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just-jordie-things · 9 months

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you know you got me in your pocket - okkotsu yuuta

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

[ you and me, always, forever ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh!”

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

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

“This isn’t mine!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“O-oh”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I got lost”

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

Yuuta nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess”

He doesn’t know what else to say.

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

Yuuta nods, the movement awkward, and shaky.

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

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

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

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

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

[ say you’ll stay, never be severed ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want company?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” He asks, and she nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not” He says, fast.

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

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

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

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

Yuuta shakes his head.

“I don’t think so”

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

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

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

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

“That’s cool!”

(y/n’s) eyes blink wide in surprise.

“You can heal yourself?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Useful”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think that we’re going to be-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods his head from side to side.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(y/n’s)- uh- she’s-”

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

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

“Ikura” Toge mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was” She affirms.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” He concurred.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I- I have to-”

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

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

“After lessons works” (y/n) agrees.

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

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

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

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

[ just come here and we can settle down ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ditching lessons?”

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

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

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

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

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

“So he told you about Africa, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

Her throat burns. Was that tears?

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

“I know”

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

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

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

“I don’t even know what to-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Positive” (y/n) replies.

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

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

Eventually, they have to talk about Africa.

It comes up the morning Yuuta leaves.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The time difference is-”

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

He returns the affection.

“Okay” He murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ you and me, always, forever ]

Yuuta had some mixed feelings about going to Africa.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ you and me, always, forever ]

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

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

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

“Where’s (y/n)?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bad different?”

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

She shakes her head at him in a small motion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too” He manages to murmur back.

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

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

[ you and me, always, forever ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

Toge giggles into his collar.

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

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

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

“Salmon!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Salmon” Toge scoffs.

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

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

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

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

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

Maki glares at the both of them before snarling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So it’s true!?” He asks excitedly.

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

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

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

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

“You love me too?” He whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, sorry” (y/n) said sheepishly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

xoxo ~ jordie

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vendetta-ari · 2 months

Note

Your fav anon is backkkkk! Hey Love! May I request a Vox (and you can include Lucifer too) x Artist (f!) reader headcannons? As I’ve said before, take your time! ♡ ♡

UGHH OH MY FUCKIN GOD IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME THIS LONG TO GET TO YOUR ASK BRO ILYSM ANON TYSM FOR YOU PATIENCE UR FRFR MY FAV ANON ♡♡♡

anyways, here Luci + Vox x artist reader

Lucifer

~ Lucifer and you always create and paint things together, he loves your creativity and he adores your art

~ You and Luci exchange ducks on special days, like valentine's day, Christmas, and birthdays.

~ You always exchange art tips with each other, bother being artists and your own unique ways.

~ Many times you have painted Lucifer's ducks for him when he's feeling down.

~ You two took a picture on your anniversary and you printed it out and painted it, he hangs it up on his wall and he always says its “The best thing I've ever, ever owned my dear!” he always gets all cheery and smiles when he sees it

~ You paint lucifers nails for him, last time you made a lil duck design on them

~ People can always tell when you two have been hanging out because the two of you are all giggly and smiling covered in paint

~ You painted a mural in his room, an apple using both his and your favorite colors

~ you give all your art pieces to Luci, you tried to sell one of them and the poor guy almost cried

~ he's basically drowning in your paintings and all your artwork, he doesn't mind at all though. although he is running out of space…

~ whatever he'll just expand his room to fit more of your work.

~ you have forced Lucifer to let you do makeup on him, he wasn't too happy but you laughed your ass off at his annoyance and makeup covered face

~ He cant stay mad at you for too long though, when your mad at luci you'll grab one of his ducks and paint them a different color completely and rub paint off some off his other ducks

~ when you finally calm down you repaint all for them with him though, as an apology.

~ the two of you often take walks through the rings of hell for inspiration

~ surprisingly, the screams of everyone being tortured is great to get those creative juices flowing

Vox

☆ Now let's be for real here guys, Vox can't draw for shit, so him being with an artist reader is kinda cute and unique and funny

☆ But you on the other hand, “your art is beautiful! n’ it should be hung up in a museum or something like that doll, I seriously dunno how you do it”

☆ During certain shows where they need sets, props, or anything related to that, you'll be the one painting them being the first to volunteer you totally didn't draw a dick kn one of the sets and embarrass him on live television pft- noo psh- hah why would you ever do such a thing? it must've been val!

☆ You couldn't keep your laughter when Vox drew that picture of Alastor when be was throwing his hissy fit on live television

☆ you redraw a picture of Alastor for Vox to tear up crumble and kick around as a stress reliever

☆ Vox realized that you drew a picture of Alastor, didn't matter what it was for you still drew him, just then he got angry again and demanded that you draw a picture of him

☆ just one more thing to stroke his ego I suppose

☆ You and velvette are besties, she often steals you away from Vox so you two can draw up outfits

☆ and he totally doesn't ever never get mad at her because of that

☆ You often draw in a red and blue journal Vox gave you as a gift once, it was in a whim but you still love it dearly

☆ you draw pictures of him and you together with little hearts around them, but vox doesn't need to know that

☆ but one time he did look through your journal, out of curiosity. trying to hide the blush that spread across his face, he grabbed a pen and wrote little messages on a few of your doodles "Didn't know she was that obsessed with me" he mumbled under his breath while flipping through the pages

☆ “We're gonna recreate this photo tomorrow, meet me at my office in 4:00 dollface” -Vox

☆ when you noticed the note you almost lost your mind fangirling over this TV man

☆So you did as you were told and met him at his office, getting there a little bit early

☆ And just like that he picked you up and carried you bridal style to his chair, kissing you softly all over, with you giggling and blushing, creating your drawing perfectly.

-xoxo, Ari

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #fluff #romantic #hazbin hotel romantic #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer #lucifer morningstar

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gloryofroses19 · 1 month

Text

Because the Night

The atmosphere in the pub was already in full swing by the time Major Bucky Egan led his group to the table Tommy saved for them.

“Jesus, it’s like those paratroopers never seen a woman before.” Curt wiped his uniform jacket, “They took one look at [y/n] and it was like Niagra Falls.”

Taking the seat Bucky held out for her, [y/n] thanked him as she sat.

“I think Ol’ Faithful Geyser at Yosemite might be a better choice Curt.” Buck replied taking a seat across from Bucky.

“Yeah, yeah whatever cowboy.” Looking at the expectant faces of Bucky and Buck, Curt sighed “Yes, Bucky I wouldn’t mind getting the drinks. Why thank you Buck, I am the kindest man in this bar.”

Ignoring Curt and Buck, Bucky leaned in closer to [y/n] watching the paratrooper across the bar tense. “So, who is he?”

Major Bucky Egan was not shocked that men looked at [y/n]. She was not only one of the few women around, but she was as pretty as a picture. And she knew it, hell it was on the reasons Bucky liked her. Her beauty caught his eye but her self assured nature drew him in. So while he didn’t love the looks men gave her in general, the look of recognition and remorse in this paratrooper in particular sent air raid sirens through his mind.

Twisting her earring with a sigh, [y/n] met Bucky’s inquisitive gaze. “My ex.”

Raising his eyebrows as if to ask for confirmation of what he just heard, [y/n] nodded to the brunette. From across the table Major Buck Clevens sat up straight as he watched the growing opposing demeanor of the pair. One that spoke of apathy while the other spoke of interest in the topic.

“Who we fightin’?” Dropping the drinks on the table, Curt rejoined the trio, “Bucky’s got that rabble rouser look on his face.”

“The ginger at 12 o’clock doing a shitty job at secretly surveying [y/n].” Buck drawled watching Bucky attempt to catch the ginger’s eye. Major Gale Clevens knew John Egan well enough to know when he was looking for a fight. Gale had seen John protective over his friends and his men, so he could only imagine what he would be like over his unofficial girl.

“No shit? Want me to fuck him up for you?” Turning around in his seat, Curt assessed the paratrooper and his friends. “There’s only four of them, we can easily take ‘em.”

[y/n] leaned back in her chair contemplating the situation she found herself in. Before she had walked into the bar, her biggest concern was how she was going to keep Bucky from serenading her tonight. But walking in and seeing her ex’s face and John’s reaction threw that concern right out of the window.

“While that is sweet of you Curt, no. It’s been two years, I’m long over him and if anyone should be scared, it should be him. I’m not the one who cheated.” Since their breakup, she hadn't put much thought into her ex or dating. And it certainly wasn’t because she was still in love with him. Rather the war broke out and she joined the WAC leaving her with little time or interest to date. Or that had been the case until Major John Egan swaggered his way onto Thorpe Abbotts base.

“That fucker… makes me wanna punch him more now.”

“If it makes you feel better Curt, I broke his nose when I found him cheating.”

“Atta girl.” Buck chuckled while sipping his ginger beer. He expected nothing less from the spitfire who stole his best friend’s heart.

“Didn’t you say you were getting harassing letters from an ex?” The arm that had been carelessly thrown over the back of her chair suddenly wrapped around [y/n]’s shoulder pulling closer to John.

“I was exaggerating, John. It was just a letter!” Placing her hand over his, [y/n] squeezed his hand in a silent plea. “Please don’t do anything stupid...” Looking for Buck for support, [y/n] was however, met with the profile of the blonde major.

Bucky chuckled as he watched [y/n]’s attempt to deter him. While he and Gale Clevens may have been opposites, Buck was a true friend. And true friends let other friends knock out the guy bothering his girl. “Won’t be considered anything stupid if it comes to you, sweetheart.”

Between the protective glint in his eyes and baritone voice, [y/n]’s heart began hammering in her chest. Grounding herself in the contrast of his rough hands against her softer ones, she was reminded of who Major John Egan was. “Look if he comes this way then you can be my knight in shining armor but right now can we just go back to flirting and listening to Curt rewrite a story about how amazing his flying is?”

Curt put hands up in defense. “Hey, I am amazing at flying and I don’t rewrite stories, I just…embellish them.”

Hooking an arm around Curt’s neck, Buck tapped a fist against Curt’s chest. “Oh embellish, what a big word for you Curt.”

Deciding that it had been far too long since he had her attention all to himself, John Egan tucked an escaped curl behind her ear before leaning in to whisper. “…So you are flirting with me, Lieutenant? Keep that up and someone might think you like me.”

The warmth of his body and the smell of his aftershave left her all but lightheaded. They had unofficially officially been an item since his second day at the base. When she decided to share her umbrella and laughter with the handsome hapless Major who lost the battle and a shoe to the English mud.

“Oh the horror Bucky…”

“Oh, calling me Bucky, you must really want me to do this for you.” Caressing her the inside of her wrist, John considered if tonight would be the night he could kiss her like he always wanted to. As a promise for it their last first kiss because the night belongs to lovers like them.

“I’ll call you whatever you want as long as you don’t start a bar brawl.” [y/n] supplied in response watching the smile light up across his face, knowing she had opened a can of worms. But she couldn’t say she regretted it; Bucky Egan was the sun and she basked under his warmth.

“Oh, with a request like that how can I say no?… for now.” Sharing in her laughter, John placed a lingering kiss on her cheek.

Sipping his whiskey, John turned back to the group and sought counsel on his new dilemma. “What do you think boys, handsome, the way to go? No, maybe I should go with pretty boy? No, too soft. Mhmm, how about my darling future husband? Now that has a nice ring to it!”

A/N: I apparently have a thing for hand holding... I appreciate any and all feedback!

#john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #john egan x female reader #major john egan x reader #mota x reader #mota fanfic #john egan imagine #masters of the air imagine #john egan fanfiction

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bcyhoods · 2 months

Note

LOVEFOOL 💌 — ‘honey, i’m home’ with stevie please. no pressure at all and take ur time or feel free to skip it, idm at all. and congratulations again ml, ily xx

drew babyyyyy, i love u and i’m saur sorry this took so long!! i may have went overboard | 1.6k fem!reader

warnings: alcohol + one drunk steeb + undressing + shit ending

Robin is the first to insist that his party days are well behind him. It was supposed to be a lighthearted toast in some random corner of a vaguely familiar backyard. Keg King Steve has fallen from grace! Here’s to a sign of maturity!

The sentiment, much to Steve’s chagrin, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and it rivals whatever’s in his cup.

“So Harrington’s a lightweight, big deal! I still think you’re just as charming.” With a heavy hand and a tipsy grin, Eddie reassuringly slaps across Steve’s shoulders. The sheer force of it has his entire body jerking forward and his drink jumping over the plastic rim. It spills over his fingers, grossly sticking to his skin and foaming at the edge of his sleeve.

He’s not quite sure why it even affects his ego so much, but it’s feeling bruised and battered. Like something sour and unforgiving crept into his chest and delivered a hefty blow to his Pride.

It has him sputtering as he lamely pushes away the metal-head, “I can still—I mean, I'm not…a lightweight.”

Robin is usually pretty good at spotting his unease when she’s sober, but the cheap beer seems to make her hypersensitive to his changing mood. She shakes her head fervently and harshly swallows. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of!” She starts, “I’m just saying, you know…you’re not who you were in high school! Which is good! It’s a good thing. It’s just, like, your tolerance decreases as you get older and less athletic, everybody knows that. So it’s perfectly normal.”

He knows that she means well. It’s obvious in the way she attempts to soothingly rub his arm, the way she smiles at him as best she can. But he’s feeling like he just got all the air knocked out of lungs.

You’re not who you were in high school.

It’s loud. It echoes unkindly against his skull and penetrates the most vulnerable parts of his brain until the noise is smothered by something else. Something a lot less intelligible, almost barbaric.

The frenzied chanting over by the keg rings in his ears and grows louder with each weak breath he takes. Eddie’s trying to help now — says something about how Steve can still outsmoke half his regular customers. But his voice is static in the boy’s mind now as his attention is focused on a pair of ankles being held in the air in the midst of the growing crowd.

Just then, an old lightbulb flickers on in his head, his Pride is reanimated with a dizzying desire to prove himself. His chest increases in size, his shoulders are pushed back, his chin is held high, but the confidence doesn’t seem to reach his face. “I’m not a lightweight,” he mumbles before he’s striding across the grass and taking his place at the keg.

Steve is not a lightweight. He can certainly still hold his keg stand record. But he’s got enough alcohol in his system to fuel a garage full of cars.

It’s why he ends up hanging off your shoulders, humming some song by The Smiths, and making it entirely impossible to unlock your apartment door.

The warm skin of his forehead pushes into your cheek as he noses at the junction between your neck and your shoulder. Muscly arms are tightly wound against your middle, trapping your own arms underneath and pressing your keys into your thigh. His fluffy brown hair, uncharacteristically and boyishly disheveled, tickles the corner of your eye.

“Steve, I can’t…” You try to fight off his arms, but they only seem to tighten followed by a groan of protest from him. You huff before softly restarting, “I can’t open the door, Stevie.”

“Oh! Sorry,” he whispers. He readjusts himself so that one arm is around your back and the other lies limp at his side.

You’re finally able to unlock the door and push it open with the toe of your shoe before you’re helping Steve inside the darkness of your shared loft. As soon as he feels your hands leave his body, he frowns and slouches against the wall, mumbling something that you can’t quite make out. When you close the door and turn on the lamp, he’s abruptly jumping up and taking a harsh breath.

“Honey, I’m home!” His loud voice bursts into the empty apartment and reverberates against the walls.

He tries to stifle his giggle when he sees you flinch and consequently hit his chest. You press your index finger to your lips and glare at the boy, but he only snorts at the conspicuous smile you’re trying to suppress.

“Shh, Steve—”

“Shh! My girlfriend’s sleeping. Cool it,” he interjects lowly with his own finger wagging at you. Another snort and chuckle comes from him at his own joke before his shoulders slump again.

“Let’s go join her, then, yeah?” You coax him, gently pushing at his back so that he’s walking forward. His footsteps drag the entire journey to the bedroom until he lays eyes on the unmade bed that’s just screaming his name.

As soon as his hand reaches down to touch the mattress, his limbs turn to jelly and he gracelessly flops into the sheets. A groan of relief and exhaustion is pulled from his throat as he lets himself sink further into the pillows. Once you’ve turned on the light, you lean down to take his shoes off before you’re yanking him back up to you. He’s standing, but he’s slightly rocking back and forth on his ankles with his eyes closed.

You’re untucking his polo and pushing it up his torso, but his arms remain stuck at his sides. You sigh and pat against his chest to get him to look at you, which he does. “Steve, baby, I'm gonna need your help.”

Wordlessly, he throws his arms up and grabs at the hem of his shirt once you’ve pushed it up his arms. He flings it off and grabs at his undershirt to do the same, but freezes when he feels you unbuckle his belt. His face is burning up now as he watches you tug the leather out of the belt loops and reach for the button of his jeans.

“Woah, take me t’dinner first.”

A lazy smirk and glassy eyes are pointed your way and a laugh is pushed from your mouth before you can stop it. Every ounce of smugness is gone within a second and all he can do is stare at you with a big smile.

“If you behave, we’ll go to dinner tomorrow. Benny’s ‘cause they have your favorite burgers.”

He doesn’t even register what you say because he’s too focused on your laugh. The way your chest rumbles and the way these cute little wrinkles start to form by the corners of your eyes. Even when you dip your head away or cover your mouth to hide from him. The sound itself is enough to have him smiling, but you just look so pretty when you’re laughing, he’s practically starstruck.

When he comes to, you’re tapping at his calves to step out of his jeans. As soon as you’re upright again, he points out, “I’m making you laugh. Am I funny?”

“Oh, yeah,” you say it like it’s obvious, “This is supposed to be a secret, but…you make me laugh a lot actually.” The admission prompts a happy puff of air from him as he sits back down on the bed. He’s looking up at you with wide eyes.

“Good. I like when you laugh. When you’re laughing at me.”

You tug at his tank top to signal for him to lift his arms, and he happily obliges.

Scars run across his abdomen and glisten with each movement he makes. When he feels your fingertips gently kiss at the edges of the marred skin, a sobering feeling of vulnerability washes over him. A feeling that he’d tried so hard to get rid of tonight, hoping to drown it with a wave of something, anything else. And you seemed to bring it right back without even trying. Only it doesn’t feel suffocating like it did earlier. It feels safe.

“You’re so good t’me…” His voice is much softer now. He leans into your touch, shivering as you drag your hands up to his face, but his eyes are unmoving as they gaze into your own. “I love you.”

You beam down at him and push his wild hair back to leave a kiss on his forehead. “I love you, too, Steve.” And though you’ve said it a million times before, always teeming with warmth and fondness, his brows still pinch together.

“Really? You love me? You’re not lyin’?”

Your expression mimics his. But you only get closer to him, reassuring him, “‘Course I love you.”

“But…even though I get like this? Even though I can’t—hicc—though I’m not Steve from high school?” He grimaces. The words from earlier in the night faintly resurface in the back of his mind and he’s feeling bitter all over again. But as quickly as they came, you’re just as quick to snap him out of it.

“Mhm, I love every version of you. I love you, now.” You drop a kiss to his cheek. “I love drunk Steve.” A kiss to his other cheek. “And tomorrow, I’m gonna love hungover Steve.” A small peck on his lips.

His eyes are slow to open when you pull away, and he reaches for your hips like he’s going to fall over. But he doesn’t. He gives you a gooey smile and juts his chin forward in a silent request for you to kiss him again. Even though he still has the faint taste of liquor lingering in his breath, you do it anyway.

“That’s good. Because I’m definitely gonna be that guy tomorrow.”

#this is a little rambly i apologize #ᝰ cece’s scribbles #stranger things #stranger things blurb #stranger things fic #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #stranger things fluff #steve stranger things #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #✸ 100 celebration!

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riseofamoonycake · 4 months

Note

Hi hellos- like hear me out on this.

Anubis loves his s/o (whether they be a human or a god, HE DOES NOT CARE) so much like not even someone who can disguse themselves (COUGH LOKI COUGH) can fool him cause doggo knows them so much especially on how they give him the cuddles, pets and etc he likes (Pretty sure this doggo of a god knows s/o's scent as well BUT THATS FOR ANOTHER ASK)

So imagine: Loki being the lil mischevious shit he his decided to try and prank on Anubis by disgusing as his S/O (who is currently doing smth important). Cue the egyptian doggo saw the imposter s/o and pounce on them excitedly until he sense something was off, Loki/imposter s/o tried to feign innocence asking if there was something wrong but Anubis started snarling and barking yelling angrily at the imposter s/o. Then his real s/o walks in and sees this and was confused as hell but Anubis quickly gets off the imposter and hugs them while sobbing in a childish manner cause he thought they got replaced (They were gone for an hour cause of a meeting)

AND.... That's it. Ending is up to you or the readers as I ran out

I just wanna share this after reading your writing about Anubis fjjahfhs (I am now Anubis trash as well. Good doggo energy is best doggo)

If It’s Not You, Not Anyone

💝Pairing: Anubis x Gn!reader

💝Warnings: suggestive

💝

No matter what may happen, what stratagem you employ and how intelligent you are: Anubis could recognize your steps, heartbeats, smell, even the rhythm of your breathing, among thousands of people and miles away, and without even concentrating. He has spent too much time at your side and at your feet, courting you, playing with you, laughing and teasing you in every possible way imaginable, that he has not become so attached to you, his tender, gentle and calm lover, that he doesn’t know how to live without them. No one smiles with the same sweetness and tranquility as you, and at the same time knows how to put a stop to the chaos when it becomes too much, becoming even severe; no one caresses with the same warmth and abandons themself to his cuddles, even when these are too intense and become scratches; and no one moans and screams as much as you do when his tongue explores you, only to be followed by expert fangs with which marking you.

Therefore, you would never have any possibility of hiding anything from him, even for fun; and if you know this well, there are those who are completely unaware of it.

For this reason, when today Anubis saw you enter the house that you have shared for years and immediately ran to you for the hugs and kisses that can never be missed, the god suddenly stopped, scrutinizing the figure in front of him with a suddenly pale face. and a restless shadow that immediately descends upon it; he didn’t react when you smiled at him, calling him sweetly and giving him a quick kiss on the forehead and another on the nose, nor did he reply when you tickled him under the chin and squeezed his cheeks; instead, he sniffed your hand, licked it quickly, and immediately drew back with a half-bark, baring his canines while, if possible, the claws on his hands and feet became even longer and more arched, and he assumed an attack position that would have worried even fearless warriors.

… Because, whoever that person is and whatever the reason why he or she is physically the same as you, in truth it is not you.

«… Huh? Honey, is something wrong?»

Anubis didn’t respond immediately, continuing to stare at your simulacrum with anger, fear and confusion at the same time, and after a few moments he shouted: «Who are you?»

«But… love, is everything okay? Do you not recognize me? It’s me!»

The god shook his head, baring his teeth even more at the surprised expression of the other part, then his tone of voice raised: «I’m not crazy! I could recognize my love anywhere, and you are not Y/N! Who are you? Who are you? What did you do to Y/N? Speak, or I’ll make you spit it all out in bites!» And without even waiting, the god threw himself at the figure, forcing it to flee through the rooms of the house, pursued relentlessly. «Tell me! What happened to Y/N? Why did you take Y/N form? TELL ME!»

The chaos that Anubis unleashed then and still unleashes is audible everywhere, no one within a few kilometers is immune to his screams; but luckily for the entire house and also for those who have decided to target both of you and take on your appearance, just when the worst is about to happen, the door opens and you, the real you, enter the house, disturbed by the cries of the god. «Treasure? I’m back… what’s happening?»

You don’t even have time to finish speaking before Anubis comes tumbling towards you and throws himself into your arms crying like a desperate man, hugging your waist and hiding his face inside your chest. «Y/N! BUUUUAHHHH, IT’S YOU! IT’S REALLY YOU!»

«Awwww, silly, who did you think I was?» You hug Anubis warmly and rub your nose against his forehead, then lift your face to look at him, your adorable puppy. «Can you explain to me what’s happening? Are you hurt?»

Anubis sniffs like a child, looking at you with big eyes full of adoration and relief, and then turns his head and fixes his gaze on a corner of the room, starting to growl menacingly.

You follow his eyes, and notice a figure exactly like you huddled against the wall, scared of Anubis’ reaction ― or so it seems. You remain silent for a moment, studying your lookalike, then you snort slightly, narrowing your eyes, and pat your lover’s head as you smile. «That’s why you weren’t at the meeting! Then you have to explain to your uncle the reason why you were absent, unless I have to tell him something in advance. You had a rough time… didn’t you, Loki?»

With a laugh, the body of your copy mutates and changes shape, and after a few moments in its place is the God of Deception, who floats in the air and winks in your direction, showing off his most mischievous expression and also the long tongue. «Not at all, sweet Y/N, not at all! I know Nubby would never bite me, you were just joking, weren’t you, Nubby?»

You giggle when you hear Anubis explode and bark an insult so flowery it would make anyone blush, so you stroke Anubis’ braid and scratch the back of his neck with your nails. «Oh, really, Loki? Okay, so why don’t you come closer? Feel free to stay for dinner with us⁓»

«I would, sweetie, but unlike you, I’m a very busy god, the fun never stops⁓⁓ so I think I’ll leave you to your guard dog.»

You raise an eyebrow, unbothered, and cross your arms over your chest, grinning sarcastically. «Ah-ha. Be careful not to bite your tongue while speaking, or you risk dying of your own poison. Not that seeing you writhing in agony isn’t a fun scene, right, my love?»

Loki grimaces in annoyance and mockery, then looks away. «And to think that you should be the sweet part of the couple…», he comments in a low voice, and then waves his hand and takes leave of you, «well, take care of me. Boring…»

«Good evening to you, Loki! Choose better who to deceive, next time!», you reply while waving both arms in greeting, then dedicating all your attention to Anubis, crouched at your feet and contemplating you. «And you, are you still scared?», you murmur sweetly, kneeling in front of him and welcoming him into your arms.

«Yes», Anubis replies, pressing himself against your body and hugging your neck as you lift him up and carry him to the bedroom. He gets your kisses covering his whole face, then stops you: «You don’t… you don’t want to punish Loki. Don’t you want revenge?», he asks you, peering into your soul with his big golden eyes.

You smile, then rub your nose and cheeks against his. «And waste time chasing that scoundrel when I can dedicate myself entirely to my faithful and tender Anubis? I wouldn’t say so⁓» You freeze, then the smile turns into a grin. «But, if that’s what you want, I…»

«NO! STAY HERE!» Anubis is so quick to grab you and bury his head in your lap that you can’t help but burst out laughing, so you massage his shoulders and then hug him tightly, your eyes shining with the love you feel. «Don’t worry, darling, I’m not going anywhere! There’s someone who needs my cuddles⁓», you murmur in his ear, while you feel his hands becoming bolder and clinging to your hips, and then moving down towards your inner thighs. Surely, for a few hours if not more, Loki will not be in your thoughts…

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror #snv #ror loki #snv loki #shuumatsu no valkyrie loki #record of ragnarok loki #record of ragnarok anubis #ror anubis #snv anubis #shuumatsu no valkyrie anubis

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slippinninque · 3 months

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Fontaine, Seduced

(alternatively : Fontaine Tries To Be A Gentleman But You Aint Ask Him For All'Dat)

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, Minors DNI, long fic, cursing, use of the n-word, thirsty Fontaine, ramblings, slight corruption kink, praises n' begging, P-in-V, light bondage, Slips' First Smut

A/N: So sorry for the wait! Sooo, this is in answer to the anon who asked how Fontaine would be if he was trying to hide his nasty. i really hope i did you proud! I've

He...may have a problem.

There you were, the light of his life, seated on the floor and in a nest of your own making. Blankets and pillows spread with you nestled in it's center. A skein of yarn to your left as whatever it was you were creating grew in your lap with snacks to your right.

Absolutely adorable while you watched an old western with him. Fontaine knew you were warm and soft as a cake from your shower and shea butter, he could smell your hot chocolate with every sip you took.

Your furry socked feet rubbed together in your contentedness and every so often, you'd lean back on Fontaine's legs to look up at him until he leaned down to kiss you.

He wanted to see you cry.

It was terrible, he was terrible. You've been nothing but good to him and here he was wanting to see those pretty eyes rolling. It was a problem, he knew it.

Still...

He wanted to bend and twist you, he wanted to hear how close he could get you to screaming. Fontaine wanted to bite from your neck to your ankles, he wanted to ruin your sheets. He wanted to ruin the back seats in his ride, take you on a walk and lay you down beneath the moon and hear you call for him.

Fontaine knew how pretty you'd be taking his dick down your throat and he wanted to see it first hand.

But....it was you.

He could imagine wrapping a hand around those pretty locs and tugging them down to swallow his dick, but he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to do it.

Because it was you.

What if he hurt you? What if he did something you didn't like and you didn't tell him?

What if he scared you?

The idea alone distressed him.

He wouldn't risk it. Fontaine wouldn't risk anything when it came to you.

"Tea time? I think its tea time."

Your words drew him from his thoughts, movie long forgotten as he watched you stretch. You rolled partly onto your side, humming and unaware of the chaos you were causing as your cami rode high and your nipples pebbled beneath the fabric.

"You want some tea?"

You were laid out into your back now, lost in a other stretch and Fontaine took a breath and nodded.

He was fine.

It was fine.

:::

It was not fine.

"I know it's a lot, but I made a promise." You sighed, looking over your shoulder and into the full length mirror in the back of the bedroom door. Fontaine sat only a few feet away, the polishing his sneaker in the same damn spot.

The promise was modeling a line of beautifully crafted crystal-bikini sets. Your locs were piled up carelessly as you struggled to clasp the top piece.

Fontaine has never seen anything like it, but you often ran with an artsy crowd. You often brought home strange and beautiful things to either model, store, or complete.

He really he hoped that you get to keep this one.

"You good, baby, you good. Tell what's it made of." Fontaine cleared his throat and stood, coming up behind you to take over.

"Fluorite and clear-quartz, you can see the lil' silver bells, right?" she said. "It reminds me of those flapper girls! But without the, uh, middle part, y'know? Look!"

You took a step back and twisted your hips with a soft, "Swish, swish!"

Fontaine whistled lowly. All he saw pretty titties and tasty thighs. When you turned and bent over a bit, wagging your bottom at him, he moved before thinking.

He cracked you right across the ass.

You squealed, putting your hands on your cheeks and looking at him with wide eyes.

"Ooh, shit, my bad baby!"

Fontaine's heart fell into the floorboards, regardless of giggle fit you were in. He pulled you close with one arm, pressing apologetic kisses to the top of your head while his free hand rubbed your cheeks.

What the fuck was he thinking? Okay, he's gave you a little pop every now and again but that--that was out of line.

'You fuckin' up, nigga.'

"It's okay, it's okay. Really, it was really the sound that surprised me--okay?"

Fontaine looked you in the eye, saw your glimmering eyes and the giddy smile. He kissed your cheeks, wanting to feel your blushing face.

Then he nodded.

You kissed him on the lips, then had the nerve to bat your eyes at him.

"Y'know...I do get to keep this."

:::

"--od, Big Dawg?"

Fontaine's head snapped up and saw that Big Moss was trying to pass him a blunt. He shook his head at himself, taking the blunt and then taking a pull.

Big Moss shook his head as well, "C'mon, tell me what's up."

"I'm good, 'Moss. Jus' got a lot on my mind."

"Is it about your lil' shawty or somthin'?"

He grunted. Feeling his stare, Fontaine turned to face Big Moss who's expression was expectant.

"Well? Tell ya mans what's goin' on!" On went the fan and Fontaine knew it wasn't going to be let go.

He took another hit and passed the blunt back, "She's a good girl. Ain't like the others I had, I ain't gotta tell you that. Can't treat her like normal."

"Can't treat her... normal?"

"Can't treat her normal, y'know wha' I'm sayin'?"

A beat of silence. Then Big Moss' eyes widened in understanding,

"Oh! can't trea--yeah, a'ight, I see, I see."

Fontaine sighed and told Big Moss about losing himself when you were trying on the bikini-set, how bad he felt.

"Did she feel bad?"

"What?"

"I know you heard me, nigga. Like, did she cry or cuss yo' ass out? Get up and leave? anythin'?"

Fontaine didn't have to think hard to recall your smile, the breathy way you laughed, "...No. She wasn't mad. I was the one most fucked up by it."

Smacking his lips, the Big Moss put a hand on Fontaine's shoulder,

"Lemme tell you somethin', this yo' first Good Girl--ain't it? I'll tell you somethin' about 'em. The sweetest little faces be hiding the nastiest shit, cuz."

Fontaine scoffed, unbelieving. He recalled your inexperience at the beginning of your relationship. You were nervous but you did make up for it in unlimited enthusiasm...

"Hmn."

Big Moss continued, "I'm telling you, man! She's probably shy 'bout some shit and just need a lil encouragement from her man. Trust me on this, Big Dawg. I've seen how ya'll are--"

His free hand went up innocently at the look Fontaine gave him,

"All I'm sayin' is that ya'll rock with each other. Work with her, man. It'll all be cool in the end, ya dig me? Whatch it be something small, I'm tellin' you!"

Fontaine thought about it.

Then he nodded. Big Moss nodded back, handing over the blunt and not bothering to hide his grin.

:::

Fontaine had a plan.

He was thinking about it every since he left Big Moss, their talk still echoing through his head.

'Take it slow if you that worried, Big Dawg.'

'Moss was right. Fontaine took it slow made sure to be careful when dealing with you, and it's gotten him nothing but sweetness and warmth back.

He went to your place without even thinking and you welcomed him in with an excited smile. That smile grew nearly manic when you saw the take out in hands.

He took in your plushy romper and slippers as he followed you into the den. That winter weight that you've been commenting about was nothing but God and Fontaine knew to be grateful.

"Damn girl, whatchu been up too?" He rose a brow at the whirlwind of yarn and notebooks.

"Ah, just trying to keep hands busy!" you said with an embarrassed little laugh. You hurried to make space for him on the couch, moving your next to the floor after tossing down a few blankets.

You went onto your hands and knees, spreading out all the corners and pulling a few seating cushions closer. Fontaine followed the lines of you, right to the lil' bit of booty that was peeking out.

"You gonna be sittin' away from me?" Fontaine mumbled, eyes stuck to your ass.

"I'll come closer." You promised with a coy smile, then told him to get comfortable. You asked if he needed anything as you both settled down.

Fontaine nearly purred at your care of him, reminded of how good he had it with you.

He just had to go slow. Get used to checking himself, making sure he wasn't doing too much. Fontaine would contain himself.

A soft touch brought him outside of his head.

"Whatchu doin' down there, pretty?"

Your hands slid up his jean clad thighs and aimed those bright eyes at him. You still laid your cheek on his knee, still rubbing as you blink slowly at him without saying a word.

Fontaine's tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He wasn't prepared for this. All he could do was nod and you gave him a candied smile as you pulled down his zipper. He groaned inwardly, bracing himself as the lust for nearly boiled over.

He was trying to be a good.

Your soft hands found his dick already half hard. Fontaine shifted to make more room for you, utterly enthralled by the way you licked your lips and wriggled closer.

A few pumps were all he needed and without preamble, you slipped his dick right to the back of your throat.

His ears rang and he finally released the remote he's been clutching, arms going out to span the back of the couch. What the fuck was this?

Your head went in small bobs, never letting the head of Fontaine's dick from the back of your throat. Your tongue was wet and wonderful. Nearly serpentine as you jerked the base of him, pulling back and giving his tip saccharine kisses.

He breathed heavily, hips jerking only once before he remembered himself. You hummed disappointedly and pulled back, looking at him with a small frown

" 'Taine, you need to relax." You still stroked his length, "Are you not into oral, we don't have too--

"Naw, that ain't it," Fontaine interjected quickly,

You rewarded him with another wet kiss to his tip, "Then why aren't you putting this where it belongs?"

He blinked as your words rang through his ears, the sweetest faces...

"You always go stiff as a board when I'm down here, never let me stay as long as I want." you sniffed and rubbed your lips against his dick.

His voice was faint, "I ain't want you to think you had to."

"I'd love to, Fontaine, that's the thing. More than often, preferably." You sighed, "I love that you're careful with me, but have you ever...wanted to...not be?"

Fontaine's hands balled where they were still up on the back of the couch.

You made the face when you were going to be really patient with him about something. Your gave his dick another kiss, soft as silk.

"Would you still be into me if I wasn't acting sweet all the time?"

He never understood whiplash until this very moment, but Fontaine focused when he saw the furrow in your brow.

"I don't care how you act, you're gonna still be mine at the end of the day." Fontaine was certain there was nothing that you could go through that he wouldn't be there to stand with you.

"Exactly. You ain't gotta be on your best behavior. You have me and all I want is you. How ever you are. I'm yours."

You laid it out so easy for him, the right words strung together to settle perfectly in his mind. Your words, your words...

Fontaine sat up, his focus zeroing in on you. Your back straightened as you continued.

"So what if I want to act...like-um..."

He sat up, "What? You wanna act up, pretty girl?"

The way you rubbed your thighs together in anticipation ignited him. You were a delicious little morsel on your knees trying to ask if you could swallow his dick again.

The sweetest fuckin' faces...

Fontaine reached out and cupped your cheek, his thumb running across your lips. Your brown eyes were nearly black with a craving similar to Fontaine's.

He gently wagged your face, "Tell me what you want, baby."

"Everything."

He chuckled lowly at your whining and leaned in close enough to brush your noses together.

"You know what you askin' me?"

"You said you'd give me anything I need, didn't you? I need you, Fontaine."

Your voice carried off into a gasp, Fontaine had reached behind you and gathered your locs up into a gentle hold before tugging. With your head drawn back, Fontaine had the pleasure of seeing your pink tongue sweeping across your lips.

"You look hungry, pretty girl."

Your answer was a breathy little moan. Fontaine groaned as he leaned in to claim your lips, his reason slipping into the back seat of his mind.

:::

Arms tied behind your back, you could only rock and whine in Fontaine's lap as he pinched and plucked your tender nipples. One hand pulling the satin scarf that he used to bind your hands. It kept you taut and nearly immobile, enough for him to move you as he pleased.

And move you he did. Sometimes releasing your hands to grip at your waist, leaning up to kiss you or lying back and watching you.

The most nasty things flowed from his delectable lips and he definitely wasn't shy about giving your ass a few swats now.

Fontaine has been wringing orgasms out of you like honey from it's comb. The longer it went on, the more it felt like you were being devoured.

On your knees, away from the couch and up against the wall, folded up in recliner, now back on the couch.

Fontaine has never treated you this way. It was sublime. Gone was his careful touches and tender passion. Fontaine fucked you with a single minded determination, content to relish your ecstasy.

"This is what you wanted, pretty thing? Am I givin' you what you need now?"

You nodded, exhaling sharply as he ground into your sweet spot. Tears sprang to the corner of your eyes at the sweet-hurt of being overwhelmed. You needed more to fall over the line, but you didn't want it to end.

You made desperate noises as he backed off enough to leave you on the edge, "Ye-Yes! Yes, 'Taine-- please, please--!"

He kneaded your ass, rough as he moved you on his dick. The pressure had you releasing a sound you didn't know you could make.

Fontaine's echoing moan shadowed a grin, "That's it, tell me who I am. Tell me who's this pussy's for."

"Yo-You, Fontaine, you..." You babbled, "It's yours, it's yours!"

"And it feels good?"

"Mmn, yesss..."

"Is it too much?"

You shook your head. Fontaine's brow lifted and pace sharpened, ripping a keening gasp from you.

He purred as your eyes rolled back and sat up to meet you chest to chest, using one of his hands to squish your cheeks together.

"Use your words, beautiful. Is. It. Too much?" He husked against your lips, pace frustratingly slowing once again.

Your answer was to bite his bottom lip with the best growl you could muster.

Fontaine muttered something you couldn't hear and then he was leaning back, putting his hands on your thighs and driving up into you in earnest.

It felt like running through fire, seeing ever color at once, knowing the name of every star. All through it, Fontaine continued muttering to himself, no longer concerned with holding you steady.

"Mnh, look at that face. Finally gettin' what you wanted. Acting like like I ain't gonna give you what you ask for--that you can't tell me?"

"It wasn't like that." You whimpered at his hands on you again, reaching down to spread you around him. You gasped and lost balance swaying forward to press your forehead into his shoulder. When Fontaine slowed his pace again, you distantly hoped you'd be awake if he ever decided to cum.

"Don't worry," Fontaine's voice was gravel, "Imma teach you good. We'll find out how much you can take, hm? Together."

You were trembling and your brain was probably slush by now, but you've seen the appeal of being greedy.

Fontaine could still give you more, you still wanted more. Together, you could tear down the fences that kept you from each other's pleasure.

You leaned back enough to mash your lips to his, drinking down his pleased moan.

You didn't care how long it took, you wanted this man to tear you apart and piece you back together.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

PHEW

thank you for reading! this took literally too long and it still feels rushed, but I really wanted to challenge myself! Please let me know what you think, any tips would be greatly appreciated as well!

taglist: @megamindsecretlair @thadelightfulone @mag1calenchantr3ss @cocoeffects @wide-nose-and-wonderful @8ttached @thadelightfulone @hobiesmain @thickeeparker @longpause-awkwardsmile @ms-angiealsina @educatorsareslutstoo @mysterychick93

(let me know if you want to be tagged!! 💕💜🌟)

#fontaine x black reader #fontaine x reader #they cloned tyrone #fontaine fic #please let me know what you think #fontaine x black!fem!reader #fontaine x black!reader #fontaine #Fontaine x you #fontaine smut #they cloned tyrone fanfic #john boyega fanfiction #they cloned tyrone fanfiction #fontaine x blackfemreader #Fontaine x black!fem! reader

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necronatural · 7 months

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Project Moon Discourse Part Whatever: Statement 2

Project Moon's company twitter has released a statement on their perspective.

In summary, the Youth Union who has been rallying a lot of people has been protesting about Vellmori's "unfair dismissal" (firing over previous statements). Project Moon points out that they have not fired her yet, and the YU do not have concrete proof of what happened (AKA why you have to say "alleged" when commenting on crimes yet to be tried). Youth Union discusses the private circumstances and apologizes for repeating accusations as fact.

Kim Jihoon posits here that this was a political conspiracy by the Youth Union to boost their position (they were a very very small group before all this), which the Project Moon User Association must a part of. He posts the draft the Youth Union drew up if PM complied, without the union rep's permission as evidence. OK man.

...By the way, he also sent an official legal notice to the Project Moon User Association with that same info.

The PMUA says hey man! We do talk to the Youth Union, but we're actually a completely different group who has not declared jackshit as fact and have been conscientious in our speech. Fuck you! And posted the letter (legal threat) PM sent publicly along with their reply. (Jihoon references this in the statement above).

Read here. The letter is the pdf at the top of the doc.

It's through this response that we learn that the reason the Youth Union was cowed was because Vellmori resigned.

The PMUA notes: hey, isn't it extremely fucking suspicious that you publicly stated that due to breaking company rules with years old tweets (this isn't legal btw) and Vellmori's most recent statement was that you told her that she's getting her papers in a week (legal but asshole shit btw)? And yet when you're catching heat about the ludicrously illegal unjust firing, you reveal you've been hiding her resignation? Unrelated, why did you post an unfinished draft statement predicated on a round table that never occurred? Why are you threatening us for libel we never posted?

AKA they fucking ate him for dinner.

Kim Jihoon is being cooked alive over his notes app malding & pointed translated repost of his original statement. Everyone and their dog can see his sole deflection only really applies to the Youth Union, who fucked up publicly a while ago, while the PMUA is spotless in their conduct. The fact they have not done anything but ask the Youth Union for info - which they used responsibly thus far - renders literally every complaint Kim Jihoon is making totally worthless. And they made sure he fucking knew it. Meanwhile, the folks who originally kicked off harassment and boycotts (DCInside) remains uncommented on, enraging people even further.

By the way, you may be wondering why Kim Jihoon is suddenly so frenzied in his attacks. The thing is, PMUA just successfully met their fundraising goal! And wouldn't you know it, the money they raised is for applying to file a class action lawsuit over PM's mismanagement.

Stay tuned for more on Crossy News Network. I am too nosy to possibly stop reporting on this

#project moon #limbus company #my jaw hit the floor reading LCUA tear them apart ill be real.

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residenthughes · 11 months

Text

once bitten, twice shy

pairing: leon kennedy x gender neutral reader

word count: 3.8k (yippee!)

tags/warnings: college/university au, fluff, mentions of vomit/sick and alcohol

summary: house parties can be a strange place. they can be even stranger when you're about to throw up and have to argue to use the bathroom with a certain blue eyed, blonde haired boy too.

notes: my baby! so glad to have finished this! <3 i started writing this pretty much after my last fic (which received so much love, thank you so so much 💗) and finally came together after i went out myself, hehe. have deadlines/exams coming up soon so i'm not particularly sure how much i'll be posting on here until mid june, so mayhaps consider this a gift for not posting then? 🥹 haha, love u all and hope u enjoy!

You enjoyed a good night out once in a while. Your friends and yourself dressed to the nines as you dance the night away with liquor tainted lips and all the freedom in the palm of your hand. It was a great escape from the pressures of endless coursework and constant group meetings. You enjoyed a good house party, too. However, you hadn’t had much luck with those ones. Despite the smaller crowd it drew, the handful of new faces had you anxiously gulping away at your alcohol, ultimately leading to cringe-worthy videos your friends would show you the next day. Based on this, you should have known better - should have politely declined when your friends suggested attending her classmates’ house party and spent the night maybe regretting it. In spite of the myriad of reasons, the past week had been dreadful beyond words and it was an opportunity to wear your latest going out outfit. It was near impossible to say no.

So, here you are. Having the time of your life with friends, dancing under blue flickering lights and letting the night take you away. Well - that’s what you were doing. What you are doing now is desperately trying to find the toilet - your stomach was already uneasy due to the nerves of meeting new people at the party, so you’re sure the sugary drinks added to the alcohol in your system didn’t help either. You felt queasy and an urgent need to relieve yourself, still to no avail. The downstairs bathroom was occupied, so with the sickly feeling travelling up your system, you barge through the mob of people littering the hallways, hand over your mouth in a futile attempt to keep whatever was coming up down.

At the end of the upstairs hallway, your friend’s classmate explained there was an additional bathroom. You’ve never been more relieved to see anything more in your life. Without knowing it, you’re making a mad dash for it, bumping shoulders and mumbling a thousand sorrys. You’re a sight for sore eyes, you know you are, but with the pressing urge to not have witnesses to your untimely projectile vomiting, you really couldn’t give a damn.

You’re so happy to have found the bathroom, even if it may have also been occupied that your eyes miss another figure aiming for the room too. It’s only when your hand reaches for the doorknob that it’s shielded by another hand. Large and comforting. Your eyes search for the source.

Amidst the darkness that permeates the hallways, the blue mood lights provide glimpses into the mystery of the shadowy figure with gentle hands. His face, ivory in colour, is all slopes, features sharp and striking. His cerulean blue eyes framed by the length of his long eyelashes and dirty blond hair makes your heart stutter messily in your chest. For a split second, there is nothing you can do but stare in awe, the tall tales of infatuation spinning your head dizzy.

“Shit, did you wanna go first?” His voice sounds like a siren, sweet and melodic all at once.

With the countless thoughts zooming through your brain, you’re certain any words that would filter through your lips would be nothing except incoherent mumbles. You settle for a nod.

“Uh, hate to break it to you sweetheart, but I needa go too.” His hand is still over yours and if not for the terrible rumble in your stomach, it would have been swept off your feet, along with the sickeningly sweet pet name he gives you.

“Maybe try downstairs? I’m sure it’ll be free soon.” This is the first time you’ve spoken during your brief conversation. The quick raise of the handsome stranger’s eyebrows encourages sheepishness to gnaw at your skin, the pink hues of your cheeks deepening.

“Ocupado, ‘m afraid.” he grins with a sliver of teeth, facial expression moulding into the awkwardness that starts to circle itself around the two of you.

Your hand turns the doorknob faintly and you catch the desperation that flashes in his eyes at your actions. If you weren’t about to soil your new top with stomach acid, you would’ve let him go first, bashful as ever as you hoped you would find him later on in the night whilst hoping he’d spare you another glance. Nevertheless, that was not the case.

“I’m sorry but,” you gulp, trying to keep whatever was coming up back down. “I really, really, really need to go, so…”

He’s stubborn. Stubborn as an ass apparently, because his hand still remains on yours. “Of course, but equally, I need to go as well. Surely, there’s like a sink or something I can go in. I’m really desperate.”

You can’t help as you wrinkle your nose, your patience wearing thin. You literally have to be sick. Why is this not being addressed? “Can’t you just pee outside? Guys do that all the time, don’t they?”

“I’m not an animal, you know.” the handsome stranger argues, and your eye twitches.

How did you end up arguing with a good-looking guy outside a bathroom at a house party?

“I’m not being funny, but if you don’t move, I will throw up all over you.”

“I’ve been meaning to go for an hour now. Can’t we make some sort of compromise?”

You were at your wits end. “As if, you fucking masochist! I’m going first!”

And you do, barging into the blindingly white room with all your might and making a beeline for the toilet. A heavy sigh sounds behind you as you heave into the toilet, bracing yourself for the ugly sight that’ll swim before you.

You hear a zip being undone and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “Surely, you’re not…?”

“I told you I needed to go.” the voice comes from the shower beside you. The world spins. House parties fucking suck.

You opt to fully exit your bitter discussion, focusing on ugly turns in your stomach. Your hair circles your face and you curse yourself for not having tied it up beforehand because obviously, it was going to–

It flows out of you. Swiftly and without much difficulty. You lunge forwards into the toilet bowl as the vomit empties out of you whilst the shower runs briefly, followed by the sink.

You just wanna go home.

“Hey,” the call for your attention is docile, the boy’s voice more sympathetic now. “You got a hair tie on ya?”

At this point, you’re on your knees, throwing up your early dinner in front of a boy you bad mouthed because you both wanted to use the bathroom at the same time. There’s no point in being shy now. You want all the help you can get.

You manage to shimmy the hair tie off your wrist and hand it towards his vague direction. For how unacquainted you two are, you move in great harmony as the boy grabs the hair tie and captures all your hair with ease whilst you busy yourself with other pressing issues.

When he’s finished, hair away from your face and in a low ponytail, the warmth of his hand settles against your back. The tears brimming in your eyes fall into the toilet bowl, body still before slow caresses have you melting into the palm of his hand.

“I…I know one of the guys that lives here,” he volunteers, tone unsure. “I’m sure he won’t mind you using one of his spare toothbrushes underneath the sink.”

You only manage back a groan, the icky feeling of humiliation creeping up on you as you continue to exhale into the toilet bowl.

“I’ll be back.”

And the man who peed in the shower leaves. Ok, that was rude of you, he did just help you when you were vomiting in spite of not knowing you. You should have more compassion for him, instead of lashing out at him out of embarrassment. When he gets back, you should thank him for all his help and hope to never see him again. You didn’t think you could live comfortably with yourself if you ever saw him again.

The faint thumps of typical party hits hammer beyond the bathroom, pouring in briefly when the man comes back into the room. By this point, your stomach has settled and you’ve flushed the toilet, yet your head still remains somewhat in the toilet because you couldn’t bear to come face-to-face with the guilt wrapped up in the form of a handsome, kind stranger.

“He said it’s cool, just open the new pack in the grey caddy.” You hear joints crack besides you before there’s a pat on your back. The comfort it brings is enough for you to swallow your pride. “Also, there’s some water next to you. Figured you wouldn’t want to go looking for it.”

Regardless of the ever growing shame that wants to drown you into a sad shell of yourself, your heart swells. The unprompted kindness offered from the stranger is refreshing, you wish you could tell him how grateful you are for him without your shame keeping your head in the toilet bowl.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, wincing at the cringing sensations that course through your body. “Sorry for calling you a masochist earlier.”

He huffs out a bout of laughter and your heart feels lighter. “In all fairness, I was pretty crazy for holding it for that long, so I don’t blame you.”

You hated how you’d have to avoid this man after you two left this room. He was sweet, polite and made you laugh. Why did you have to meet under such ugly conditions?

“Thank you,” you exhale, feeling your heart bloom with the warmth he radiates. “Really.”

“No prob,” he lifts his hand off your back and suddenly, you’re cold again. “I’ll leave you to it. If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen. If not, probably fucking it up on the dancefloor.”

You mumble another thank you after the laughter that leaves your lips, the blue-eyed stranger exiting and leaving you to clean yourself up as ponder on his kindness for a little longer than necessary.

You manage to sneak past the kitchen without bumping into the kind stranger. If you weren’t embarrassed before, the embarrassment catches up with you now. Outside, where the cool October wind blows, you’re perched on a step of the back porch, curled into yourself as you breathe in and breathe out. Things could have been a lot worse. You could have thrown up all yourself, delirious and none the wiser as nasty spirited individuals videoed the spectacle, not intervening even once. You could have been in a worse state in front of the stranger, vomit embedded in your hair as you wailed to call your friends or to go home. It could have been so much worse, yet here you are, rocking away as you will yourself not to cry.

You blame it on the emotional turmoil that’s plagued your week. Your academic and interpersonal affairs bore a burden like never before, pushing you beyond your means countless times this week and eventually, as you self soothe in solitude, you succumb to their will. Your friends are worried sick, searching every inch of the unfathomably large house to find you. You shoot them a text, notifying them of your safety and the privacy you seek. With dozens of texts that express reassurance, you let out a sigh before the music playing inside is too good for you to ignore.

Call it foolish, but it’s the nostalgic sounds of 00s’ dance that help you pick up the pieces. Assist in the carefree attitude you adopt that leads you right back inside, finding your friends and changing the course of the night.

If only you knew your carefree attitude would have you right where you once were. Face to face with the handsome stranger, the ends of an empty beer bottle pointed towards you two as bystanders ooh and ahh.

“Get in there, Leon!” a friend - you assume - hollers, slurring his words as he lazily drapes against Leon’s rigid frame.

You two exchange a look, eyes seeking any kind of communication that would hint at what the future held.

Your hand is given a squeeze and suddenly one of your friend’s whispers into your ear. “He’s cute, go for it.”

You crimson. At her words and at the fact that your next encounter with Leon has come so soon. Relentless is the sensation of dread and cringe as it sinks into your bones and buries you into the ground. All eyes are on you and you want nothing more but cringe? Disappear? Run away? There’s so much going on in your head right now.

A hand is outreached. It’s as if a lifeforce beyond yours comes down to save you, extending their hand to sail you away to safety. Alias, it is nothing but a figment of your imagination as you peer up, eyes sparkling as Leon’s tall figure towers over yours. For a second, you can’t read his facial expression, can’t comprehend the logistics of your predicament. However, when the edge of his lips curl upwards, pleasant and mellow in nature, there’s a sense of relief that starts to wash over you.

“Ready if you are.”

He has a way with words. He must have. Otherwise you wouldn’t have felt so comforted on that bathroom floor, otherwise you wouldn’t be in some confined closet, little to no light with the same person you threw up in front of.

“Well,” he starts off after a minute or two of silence. “This is…”

“Awkward.”

A cough is followed by silence. Then laughter.

Out of all the people at this party, the universe had to fabricate yet another meeting with Leon. The guy who you basically cussed out in order to use the bathroom. The same man that after washing his hands, held your hair up for you and soothed your sickness with a gentle back rub. There is nothing more you want to do right now than crawl out of your skin.

“You feeling a bit better now?” Leon’s voice is hushed when he talks to you, gentle and filled with unexpected care.

Despite the awkwardness of your situation, you can’t help disregarding such lame state of feeling as you lean into his kindness. “Yeah, I had a bit more water and was outside for a bit, so I’m pretty much sober now.”

Your fingernails dig into the flesh of your palm. A nervous tic. “Thank you. And, sorry.”

Leon appears to relax into the flow of conversation, moving his body to lean against the wall of the compact closet you find yourselves in. As he shuffles, notes of smoky vanilla waft in the air, Leon’s cologne finding its way to you. The smile you hide behind a closed fist is all kinds of bashful, body drawn to the intoxicating nature of the fragrance.

“I wasn’t terribly nice to you either, so think of it as making amends,” his hand extends forwards, bridging the gap between the two of you. “Truce?”

Amusement tugs at the ends of your lips, humoured by the hints of unseriousness that seems to be a recurring theme in your story. Going from badmouthing one another to being shoved into a tiny closet for Seven Minutes in Heaven and forced to call truce. It’s the kind of bizarre story that hangs in the air after a night out, disgustingly hungover in bed as your friends jam into someone’s room and recall the night’s events.

“Truce.”

You shake on it, pulling away when the flutter of your heart tickles your chest.

Through the dim sliver of marmalade orange light that peeks through the bottom gap of the door, you catch glimpses of Leon. The sharp slants of his jaw, the heavy flutter of his eyelashes, the sheepishness of his smile - all lopsided and accompanied the hues of strawberry jam red. He’s trying his best and it’s endearing. As is he. Charming and caring, a little silly yet undeniably sweet. Perhaps your perspective on him is a bit skewed due to the remnants of alcohol that float in your system, but if you happened across the same dirty blond, blue eyed boy on campus, you know your heart would still beat the same.

“Three minutes!” Someone yells beyond the door, prompting an uptake in your breath.

Never too forward, Leon draws closer to you, hands to himself as he suggests, “We could just head back out, if you’d like. I’m sure they’re not gonna be too up their asses about it.”

You don’t miss a beat. “I don’t want to.”

You’re both caught off guard. Your eyes widened and Leon’s eyebrow raised. It’s as if you’ve been exposed, barenaked for all the world to see your secrets. In itself, your response isn’t the strangest. Anyone would assume after calling truce, your allocated time meant to be spent together could foster the beginnings of a friendship, a friendly conversation. Even so, Leon and yourself were getting ahead of yourselves - reading in between the lines, sifting for something that was there.

“I mean,” the wardrobe is suddenly indescribably small, the surface of your cheeks warming as your eyes dart all over the place. What is going on here? “We could always just talk or…”

“Or what?”

Leon’s being mean. He knows he is. But, he can’t help himself. Jumping the gun, clawing at any and every opportunity to be close to you. Leon spotted your figure earlier during the course of the night, eyes capturing the shimmer in your eyes and bounce of your hair as you happily twirled your friends around on the dancefloor. You were simply magnetic, doused in dazzle and delight as your glittery makeup highlighted your timeless beauty. Leon would’ve approached you, winning you over with his charm and foolish dance moves - but he needed a drink. A drink which became two, two which became three and ultimately he broke the seal, landing him on a collision course with you outside the bathroom.

This isn’t how he imagined meeting you.

Nevertheless, you were together and despite the not-so-great circumstances presented, Leon made the best of it. Helping you and being the gentleman he is. And even if you never saw each other again, he would still remember you for all the shimmer in your eyes and just how infectious your smile was.

Now, under more favourable conditions, he doesn’t want his time with you to end. You’re just as captivating up close, if not more. Timid yet so sweet. Leon gets lost in you - lost in the details of your hair, your voice, your eyes. He wonders if the longer he prolongs your conversation, the sooner you’ll see his attraction towards you. Hopes you’ll reciprocate, hopes you’ll see it too.

“I don’t know.” You settle for, casting your eyes away from Leon as you twiddle your thumbs.

You want to be close with Leon, maybe kiss him if you could. But, you just don’t know. He’s seen you at your worst, sick in the toilet without a thought behind your eyes. You’re still embarrassed - even if Leon makes good work of fending that off. And perhaps because of that, along with other complexities, you want to be close with him.

If only he’d let you.

There’s a huff of frustration before something knocks your shoe. You look, examining Leon’s tired Converse shoe that nestles against your own pair of shoes. Your heart stills.

“I saw you earlier,” he starts, standing tall as he inches closer towards you. His pools of blue know only the sight of your lips, pink in hue and supple with lipgloss. He briefly looks away for his own good. “You looked really good on the dance floor.”

The gravity of your current reality settles in quick. Leon’s with you. Initiating everything and bringing this whole charade to a close. Your instinct is to wrestle with the reasons why, question his intentions and ultimately, take a step back. But, you’re exhausted. You’ve done enough mental gymnastics to last you a lifetime. You know you want this, so why can’t you have it? The answer is clear now. You take the plunge, hands grasping onto his backarm as you test the waters. “You think so?”

You’re gazing into each other’s eyes now, nowhere to run or hide. Leon hums in response yet still searches for something in your eyes - a glimmer of hope, confirmation to proceed and gets it in the form of you leaning into him with the bat of your eyelashes. His arms circle your waist, hesitant at first but solid in their place on the small of your back. You’re already seeing stars.

“Leon?” your voice is barely above a whisper, forehead pressed against Leon’s as you grow impatient.

He hums in reply. “Can we? Can we-”

“Can we kiss?” he says this, lips brushing up against yours. You grip his broad shoulder extra hard incase you buckle at the knees.

“Please,” you only manage to get out before your lips connect.

Leon shows you just how much he wants this, how much he wants you in his kisses. Gentle yet firm in his desire, his lips envelope yours in a way that sets your heart ablaze. Your brain short circuits, the sparks soaring between the two of you insatiable as you melt into each other. Your hand falls to brace yourself against Leon’s chest, the accelerated patter of his heart vibrating against your palm. You can’t help the smile that blends into your kiss, opening an invitation for Leon’s tongue that glides against the flesh of your bottom lip.

“Time’s up!”

His teeth plunge into your bottom lip lightly. You separate with a whine.

There’s a moment before the door opens, time where your eyes scan over Leon to gather all your thoughts and take him in. His pupils are full blown, his arctic blue irises submerged in the dilation of his pupils, lips plump with need and breath laboured. He looks far away, as if he is immersed in a dream that’s too good to be true and judging by the smile that graces his face, you’re sure you look the same.

“Need a mint?” Leon’s all jokes, smile giddy and besotted.

You roll your eyes in response, playfully jabbing his hard bicep with a closed fist. “Says the one who stuck his tongue down my throat.”

“Guilty as charged,” he holds his hands up in surrender, eyes giving you their undivided attention. “Wouldn’t mind doing that again though.”

He punctuates his point with circling his arm around your waist, drawing you in close before placing a delicate kiss against the flushed skin of your cheeks. It’s shameful how much you like this guy already.

“You’re disgusting.”

The door opens and you leave the closet happier than you ever were before.

#resident evil 4 remake #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 fanfic #resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy imagine #re4r #re2 remake #re2 leon #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil fluff #leon s kennedy imagine #my fics

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tinystepsforward · 1 month

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i've still been keeping tabs on what's happening at automattic. a couple of things i've observed:

toni schneider (who is a man btw), the interim ceo, has been quite open with staff in ways that mean they generally seem relieved to have him leading the company for now. i've heard people speak optimistically about him from all parts of the spectrum (by which i mean: staff who are trans tumblr users right through to staff who are "anti-woke" or whatever and were absolutely intolerable to work with as a trans person), which seems like... a good sign? maybe.

this relative transparency includes things like weekly updates from an executive level, as well as openly saying that he did have to directly speak to matt and encourage him to, you know, stop posting.

matt is back to his usual milquetoast blogging, and replied to someone on mastodon about the AI issue saying he'd comment on it when he's back in may, so whatever toni said to him seems to have worked for him keeping out of it for now.

people have no idea what it's gonna look like when matt's back.

the best case scenario is that schneider manages to create a significant enough boost in morale and productivity that "it'd be nice if we just kept him" becomes a sentiment that isn't held just by the rank and file. i don't know how likely that is, but there's a sense of cautious hope and of making the most of this reprieve from matt's increasingly erratic decisions no matter what.

the tumblr staff statement was approved by schneider and hr, so i am also hopeful they won't face repercussions. what they said might seem pretty mild from the outside, or carefully worded, but it's pretty clear to me and to most people who've worked at companies like this that it's a pretty bold one.

i'll quote a friend:

keep reminding the more histrionic elements out there that: 1. there really are trans people, INCLUDING TRANS WOMEN, in the fight here. 2. we don't have nearly the power they seem to think we do. 3. we're fighting anyway. was the statement we wrote enough? fuck no. does it fix everything? fuck no. but we literally called out the CEO, and got the greenlight for it from the interim CEO. i don't know where this will end, but that's not nothing.

i'm not sure automattic deserves the immense honor of having this many of its brave, dedicated trans staff put effort into trying to make it better. but it has them, and it would be wise to do its best to keep them. so many of us — even me, even now — believe in the ideals that drew us to the work automattic does, and hope that it can return to them. we will see!

other things i want to say:

the wellbeing of my friends on staff is my priority. i am interested primarily in their safety, and won't pressure them to give me goss. the ways i've spoken publicly are already pretty scary to people who might worry about retaliation against them just for being known to be my friend.

this is a regular personal blog. i'll keep updating if there's shit to update about, but i also don't work at automattic any more (thank fuck, again), have a life, and am not interested in declaring matt my specific nemesis or otherwise acting purely out of spite.

some of youse really deeply do not understand companies, the internet, generative ai, or pretty much anything else i've said. that's okay — big tech in particular is fucked up on purpose bc it benefits those in power to have it be incomprehensible! but maybe it's not a great position from which to get mad at me specifically or at staff for idk not personally assassinating matt.

got tired of blocking transphobes so i've turned anons off. i'll probably flick them back on eventually.

#tony muses #tumblr meta #<- just for my blog's tag search

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rustedhearts · 1 year

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Pretty Boy (Boxer!Steve x Librarian!fem reader)

summary: a look into the mind of our favorite brooding boxer; steve has a hard time opening up to you.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the steve collection ♡ ♡ the king of the ring ♡

warnings: mention of nightmares, trauma talk!: mention of childhood + domestic abuse, steve has some deep-rooted insecurity, angst, hurt/comfort, allusion to smut at the end + soft steve :(

a/n: told from steve’s pov! in writing his pov, I tried to mimic his voice, the writing may seem a little unsophisticated at times. Steve struggles to find words sometimes.

seattle, washington june 1990

When Libby sleeps, she looks like an angel.

Somehow, she always dozes off facing me. Her lashes flutter for a few moments, and then they still. Her lip quivers, her nose twitches, and then they stop. When she searches for me in her sleep, I let her take my hand. She never remembers in the morning, and I allow myself this moment of secrecy. A moment of affection I don't have to pretend to dislike.

And when Libby sleeps, she never has nightmares. She wakes in the morning, well-rested and bright-eyed.

She knows nothing of mine.

It was easier to hide them when we slept apart, and though I'd rather die than be apart from her even in sleep, sometimes I wish for an empty bed to kick and scream at when I wake at midnight for the fourth time this week with the sound of my father's voice in the room. It's fucking stupid, how much the fucker lives in my head. The day I walked out of his house, I swore I'd never think of him again—but I have yet to escape him.

So, when Libby wakes—and I've just spent the last few hours trying to lull myself back to sleep—I take comfort in her voice. It's ridiculous, really, how easily it soothes me.

"Good morning, Stevie," she cooed this morning, stirring in my arms and searching blindly for my head.

Her hand—small, scented of the remnants of her indescribable perfume: like vanilla but not quite, something sweet and flowery but not so much that I have to sneeze, but whatever it was made my chest feel tight every time—skated across the back of my head.

The first time she did that, brushed the hair at the back of my head down with her palm, feathered her fingers through it, I think I shivered. Nobody's ever done that. Before Libby, I never wanted anyone to touch my hair. It was something my mother never did, and now I didn't know how to bear it. But now, I never want Libby to stop. How fucking stupid is that?

So much so, that when she took her hand away, I wanted to reach out and snatch it back, place it back into my hair and let her pet me like a puppy. But I ignored the lurch in my stomach, let her use her hand to rub at her eyes and hide a yawn. Had I taken her hand back, would she have liked it? Would it have been overbearing, too possessive?

"Morning, angel."

Libby hummed—a squeaky pip of a sound—and flopped onto her back. Her hair moved with her, fanning across the pillow like a mane. This position drew her eyes back a little, made them a little wider. Every day, I find new things about her to love. And every day, I find new things I worry will be taken away.

"What's on the agenda today, handsome?" Her voice was always so soft. I'm no good at describing voices, using pretty words to compare them to shit—but Libby's voice sounded like cotton. Fluffy, soft, gentle.

I brought my hand to her face, pressing it against her cheek. I noticed that every time I do that, hold her face and caress it, she softened a little. Her eyes got this little twinkle, like she was seeing a kitten in a storefront.

"Same shit. Training, maybe a late lunch if Big doesn't ride my ass." I hated to admit it. I hated telling her that she was stuck with me all day again, though she swore she doesn't mind it.

But I always saw the way she crumbled a little.

"Oh, okay," she chirped, and a smile came to her face a moment later.

Before I could say anything else, she slipped from my arms. Freed of the crisp confines of the white hotel sheets, she padded toward the bathroom in nothing but her silky nightgown. It was the same one she used to wear back home—orange, covered in flowers, lace around the straps and along her breasts.

It reminded me of days spent rotting in my apartment: hovering behind her while she flipped pancakes on the stove, lounging on the sofa while she flittered and spun around the room listening to Donna Summer on my record player, watching each other's eyes in the afternoon light when we were just waking up. Now, the straps were wearing thin and the lace was starting to tear, but if I bought her a new one, it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't remind me of home.

"Do you think," Libby mumbled around her toothbrush, words sudsing with white foam, "we'll have time to see the Pike Place Market?"

I knew the answer. I knew we wouldn't. But Libby spat toothpaste into the sink and rinsed her mouth with minty wash, and she pulled her hair away from her face to rub cream across her cheeks; she readied herself for a day she'd spend confined in a sweaty, musty gym, reading a book she'd read dozens of times before. She did so much for me. I felt like I didn't do enough for her.

"Yeah. Yeah, baby, we can try," I told her.

The radiant smile I received in response made the lie worth it.

♡ ♡

At least not everything was a lie.

We had time for lunch: a small bistro just down the street from the gym. Training was rough today—Big had been on my ass like fly on shit ever since the incident in Boston. I was training harder, longer, at a frequency that I knew upset Libby. By the afternoon, all the glowing brightness to her face had disappeared, and morphed into something bitter and drawn.

Ketchup splattered with every smack of her French fry in the glob on her plate, and I huffed as speckles appeared on my hand again.

“Libby.” It always came out of my mouth a little too harsh. I never meant to yell when I did.

Libby huffed, dropping the french fry into the ketchup. She reached for her Pepsi, sipping from the striped straw with glossy lips. I watched them close around the end of it and immediately missed the feel of them against me, though I’d just kissed her on the way here. When she set the glass down, I took her hand and brought it to my mouth. Her chin dropped to her other palm, elbow thunking on the table.

A sharp sigh left me before I could stop it, our intertwined hands resting beside the plates. “What’s wrong now?”

Libby’s eyes moved from the window to her picked-at plate. “Nothing.”

‘Nothing’ always meant ‘everything.’ Libby was a notorious pouter—something I usually adored about her. Until she pouted in retaliation for the fact that I couldn’t read her mind. I much preferred the pout that came from too little attention, or when she wanted something without asking for it—that pout was soft an old d doe-eyed, usually followed by a sweet kiss to the cheek. This pout was sour and came followed by huffing and eye rolling.

“Libby,” I sighed, crumpling my napkin in my fist and tossing it onto the table.

Her arms crossed, and the predictable eye roll followed suit. I scowled at the sight of it. Libby, usually sickeningly sweet, had an attitude on her that I dreaded the appearance of.

My fist landed on the table with a noisy bang, rattling the cutlery and causing Libby to flinch. A part of me shriveled when she did that. My chest tightened like a compressed air bag. An apology collected on the tip of my tongue. But would an apology make me look like weak? You lack conviction, Steven. No one’s going to take you seriously, pretty boy. You look like a little pussy. There was my father’s voice again, ringing in my head. I ran my hand through the front of my hair to mess it up. Pretty boy, pretty boy, pretty boy.

“Fuck,” shot from my mouth before I could swallow it, “just…I can’t read your damn mind, Libby.”

I didn't want her to be upset. I didn't want her to pout and roll her eyes and be sour all day—I wanted to see her smile and giggle and blush at the way I teased her. I wanted to have a nice day.

"It's nothing, Steve," she sighed, pulling away from the table to rest back against her side of the booth.

Libby looked off toward the window to her left, and an image of our first date suddenly flashed in my mind. The glimmering sheen of grease on every slice of pizza, the low jazz on the jukebox, the stench of beer on her pretty dress, the way her lips tasted under the streetlight on the way home—like Libby. There was no other way to describe it. She had a taste of her own—like fresh bakery and the sugary coating on a sour gummy worm, but also like artificial strawberry and Coca Cola. I never got tired of that taste in my mouth.

She was upset with me, but later, she wouldn’t be. She always got upset with me, but she always forgave me. At the end of the day, we loved each other. Wasn’t that enough?

I plucked her hand up again when it touched the table, bringing it to my mouth. My lips grazed her knuckles, thumb pressing into the ring on her middle finger that she wore every day. It was old and needed to be cleaned, but it reminded her of home. Like the silk nightgown she wore to bed, it was a piece of home she wasn’t ready to trade in for something new.

“Come on, let’s go to that…that market place.”

Libby’s head whipped from the window, eyes wide as they settled on me. I could see the bitter resolve melting like sugar in water—delight overwhelmed her face. “Really?”

Big and Mikey would frantically call the hotel in search of me, and when they’d find me later, I’d get another lecture about how important this fight was for my career, how I couldn’t ‘fuck around’ anymore. Have some responsibility, pretty boy. You gonna be somebody’s bitch your whole life? Fuckin' pussy. Pretty boy, pretty boy, pretty boy.

“Yeah, angel. Grab your stuff, come on.”

♡ ♡

The 'market' reeked of fish.

But Libby walked around, paper cup of gelato in hand, licking spoonfuls as she wandered from stands of fish to tables of beaded jewelry, eagerly soaking in the chaotic sounds and scents of the market. My sunglasses did little to combat the thumping in my temples, but I did my best to grit my teeth and endure the overwhelming stimulations. I knew when she found the corner of leather-bound books and handmade bookmarks that we'd be there a while.

When she began to protest the appearance of my wallet and the stack of cash headed the merchant's way, I pinched her lips between my fingers and kissed the tip of her nose. Her arms found their way around my stomach, cheek pressed to my back, and as the merchant wrapped her new books and journal in paper, she just held me. Even against all the nautical stenches and earth shattering noises that amplified the pain in my head, I could've stood there all day just to feel her arms around me. When Libby hugged me, she really hugged me. With all her strength, a pressure both comforting and soothing. She made sure I knew she was there.

"I need to get this fuckin' fish smell off me," I grumbled on the way into the hotel room, kicking the door shut behind us.

Libby flopped on the neatly-made, discarding her purse to the side before scrambling to unfold the paper around her books. She'd sit and admire them for hours if she could, cooing about the 'craftsmanship' of the leather and its 'embossment,' fawning over the color they chose to stain it with. She once spent forty-five minutes in an aisle of pens to find the perfect one, and came away with a regular old black ballpoint that she claimed 'had the perfect run.'

I never understood what Libby was talking about, but fuck did I love her.

"Okay. Wanna order some room serv—"

The phone on the nightstand shrilled, and Libby rolled onto her side to pluck it from the cradle. "Hello? Oh, hi, Mom!"

I inched toward the bathroom, hand still on the doorknob. Libby took her new journal in her hand and grinned, running her fingers over the spine. Her mouth moved like a motor, gushing over the hours spent in the market. I pushed the bathroom door open and glanced over just once more in time to see her nose scrunch with a giggle. She caught my eyes in the sliver of the door before it shut and grinned.

I thought about that smile the whole time in the shower. I ached at the image of it behind my eyes. I listened as closely as I could over the patter of the water to catch every giggle that I could.

Dripping across the tiles, I ruffled a towel through my hair and avoided looking into the mirror as I approached the sink. Libby's bag of makeup sat on its side atop the marble. I fingered through the tubes and compacts until I found a familiar tube of lotion. I plucked it out, sniffed the cap, and paused. Pretty boy, pretty boy, pretty boy. One day, Libby put too much in her palms, and swiped them over mine to share the creamy mixture. The scent lingered for hours, left my hands soft and smelling like Libby. Dad would've kicked my ass for something like that. I tossed the lotion back and yanked open the door.

"Steve! We have neighbors!"

Libby skittered toward the window, running along the length of the glass to draw the drapes shut. I shrugged, bending toward the luggage to rifle through my clothes. "Free show for them."

Libby shook her head, sliding back onto the bed, lounging on her stomach. Despite her temporary irritation with me, I could see her head tipping and her eyes wandering in the corner of my eye as I pulled a t-shirt over my head and sweatpants over my hips. I shuffled toward the bed, coming to a stop with my neglected hard-on placed in front of her.

"You gotta pay the toll though," I told her, cupping my hand under her chin to give it a squeeze.

Libby giggled, shoving my hand away. "You're so gross."

I pouted. "Thought you liked my dick in your mouth, baby."

She shot to her knees on the bed, jaw dropping. "Steve." A laugh rattled my name.

I curled a finger toward me, reaching for her arm when she didn't move fast enough. "C'mere, want a kiss."

Libby's smile smoothed. "Wait, I gotta tell you something. My mom called, she said..."

She captured her lip between her teeth and dropped her eyes toward my chest. Every alarm in my head started ringing. Did someone get hurt? Did they tell her to come home? Did they tell her to leave me?

"What?"

Libby pushed up on her knees, bringing her hands to my shoulders. They rubbed and squeezed, kneading and massaging in the way they only do when she's nervous to tell me something.

"She said she bumped into your mom at the store."

My eyes couldn't move from her face, pinched with worry. She rubbed harder, trailing her hands up the sides of my neck to cup my face.

"Steve?"

My mother. Blonde hair wound up, green eyes, silver watch, the stench of red wine, the sharp snap of a pill case. She stopped calling me Steve at nine years old. Steven came with a venom spit like pills pinging across the tile of the bathroom floor. Vomit in the toilet. My mother was much heavier than I thought she’d be. She begged me not to tell dad. Her green eyes wore a purple ring for a week when he found out.

“My mother,” I echoed.

Libby nodded. The image of her in front of me blurred, like she was standing behind frosted glass. “I just…thought you’d want to know. I know you don’t…talk to them, or about them. But I just—Steve?”

Libby smelled like all the good things in life. Her hands were soft and warm and so much smaller than mine, and I always wanted them on me. But right now, it was getting hard to breathe. Her hands were strangling me. My defenses were rattled. I was twelve years old covering my ears in my closet, screaming into a baseball jersey.

I shoved at Libby's hands, tearing them away from me. She sank down to her heels again, but the image of her in my periphery became a blob when I began to pace. The room no longer smelled like all things good and Libby—it smelled like that house. That god awful fucking house in Indiana. When I felt like dying, the world always smelled like that house.

"Steve? Hey, just...talk to me, baby, please." That cottony voice tickled my ears, but it couldn't penetrate the fog.

I paused in front of the mini bar. The little bottles of liquor enticed me. My mother's poison was wine and pills. My father's was whiskey. Sober or drunk, they were always the same.

"Steve?"

When I got a little tipsy, I started to hear their words coming out of my own mouth. Don't be such a fuckin' pussy. What are you good for? Pretty boy, pretty boy, pretty boy.

I couldn't be around Libby right now. I didn't want her to see me like this. I turned to make for the door, but she was on me—scurrying from the bed and tripping over her bare feet to place her hands on my chest.

"Hey, hey, baby, please. Y-you're scaring me, I...what can I do?"

I kept my eyes above her head, on the exit in sight. One look into those eyes and I'd sink to my knees, spill all my secrets. I couldn't look weak in front of her. Pretty boy. She'd never see me as anything but some whiney little puppy, something broken to be fixed. I didn't need anyone to fix me. I didn't need anyone to help me. Pretty boy. I was doing just fine on my own. I'm not weak. I'm not weak.

"Do you want to talk about i—"

"—no."

Libby's hands felt so heavy on my chest. "Steve," she sighed, but there was an edge to it, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

I knew the moment I looked at her that whatever face I was making pierced her with hurt. Her eyes welled in the way they do only when I make her cry. I wish I didn't do that.

"I don't need your fuckin' help." I said it too mean. I always do.

My fists were buzzing with the telltale thrum of restlessness. They needed to feel impact, they needed to hit. I could only take so many before I started needing to make some myself. Getting hit didn't feel nearly as good as hitting back. In boxing, I got to do both.

"Why are you acting like this? Steve, just...talk to me, please. I'm begging you—"

Oh god. "Oh, God, Libby, what the fuck? Don't—don't do that!"

The room seemed to be shaking. The way it used to shake when Dad started hitting and I knew I could hit back, I envisioned all the ways I should hit back, but my arms were limp. The way it used to shake when I tried to clean Mom up once Dad's car left the driveway, but she screamed until I thought my ears would bleed.

"Do what? Steve, please, I'm just trying to help you—"

The image of her standing in the middle of the hotel room sliced through me, but the words were already shooting out of me. The edges of the room were already turning black. I couldn't stop the rattling in my chest.

"—well stop! I don't want your help—I don't need your help, Elizabeth."

For a while, all I heard were the huffs of my own breath. I'd never seen Libby so motionless, not even in her sleep. She twitched, her eyes roamed behind her eyelids, her feet kicked beneath the covers. Now, she did nothing but blink and breathe, and stare at me.

"I won't love half a man, Steve."

My chest moved with such force under each breath that I could see every rise and fall beneath my nose. Libby's nostrils flared. Her eyes welled with tears.

"That's what you are. Look at you, Steve—you're hiding. All this time, you've been hiding this other part of you. And I can't...I can't just...wait around forever until you figure it out on your own. You're not on your own. We're partners, Steve, you and me. But you never talk to me."

A sour taste arrived in my mouth. I hadn't thrown up since I got food poisoning in eighth grade. Right now, I was coming close. I didn't know what to say, or how to say it. How could I make this better? How could I fix it? Would she leave me now?

"You think about that," she insisted, pointing a polished finger my way.

The bathroom door slammed closed, the muffled rummage of drawers and cabinets opening following suit. The rumble of water filling the tub came after. I found the edge of the bed with slow steps, desperate for some sort of softness. The brightness of the room brought the pain back to my eyes. My own voice, screaming at an octave I now became embarrassed of, made my head feel swollen and tender. I flinched when the water sloshed on the other side of the door.

"Steve?"

The room was so quiet. I hadn't realized I'd fallen asleep. Not until I felt something soft beneath my cheek, and something small rocking my shoulder. The brightness had dimmed to a purplish light, beaconing over my feet at the end of the bed. Libby smelled freshly cleaned, like hotel soap and her face cream. Her lips left a minty imprint on my cheek.

"You okay? I can get your medicine if your head hurts—"

The pain had simmered to a dull ache. All I wanted was her in my arms. I found her in the darkness, wrapping my hand around her arm and giving it a pull until she flopped onto the other side of me. I yanked her against me like she'd been gone for years. It was selfish, I know. But all I needed was her. I hoped she understood that I was sorry.

"Just want you."

Libby pressed her nose to my throat. It felt like an icicle. "Okay."

I never understood how she could forgive me that easy. I'm still trying to forgive myself for half the shit I did to her.

"I don't like talking about them. They're...they're shit excuses for parents."

Libby rubbed her nose against my throat. I let my eyes sink closed, chin resting atop her head. "It's just me, Stevie. And no matter what you tell me, it's never gonna change how I feel about you. Alright?"

I'd never believe that. "Okay. And I'll...I'll tell you all about it, just..."

"At your own pace."

I nodded, pressing my hand to her back to bring her closer. I wasn't sure she could get any closer. "Yeah, at my own pace."

Libby latched her mouth onto my throat. A grunt stirred my cock in my pants. Her hands slid along my sides, still sporting bruises from the last match, and I fell to my back. Her weight pressed down on me, knees bookended on either side of my torso. Her hair tickled my cheeks as her mouth dampened my neck. Her ass fit perfectly in my palms, enough to squeeze and slap. She jerked against me when my hand came down in even the gentlest pat.

"Let me take care of you," tickled my throat.

I nodded, cock aching and straining against the thin cloth of my sweatpants. She knew just where to fix me—where to wrap her hand and squeeze.

"I'm sorry, angel," I gasped, stuttering around the firm glide of her hand up my shaft.

Libby kissed across my jaw. "I know. Just let me take care of you, Steve."

I could do that. I could be taken care of. In her hands, I was safe.

♡ ♡

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