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dianawinchester03 · 1 day

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Haircut

Series Masterlist

Summary: Dean has been getting backlash from John to cut his hair because it’s not “professional/manly” to have long hair. Y/N voiced her opinions on liking his long hair and how Dean shouldn’t listen to John’s ass. Let’s see how she reacts to Dean following his fathers orders.

Y/N and Sam 19 years old, Dean is 23 years old (Sam is away at college)

BASED ON:

The Old Testament Series.

Genesis Primis: A Supernatural Rewrite (Dean Winchester x Reader) by @dianawinchester03

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Havenwood, Georgia

•December 2002

As night falls over the small town of Havenwood, Georgia, Y/N was lounging on her bed in her room of the safehouse, flipping through her playboy magazine, a small smile on her face as she hears soft footsteps approach her room door.

A gentle knock sounds at her door. “Hey Princess, you awake?” the deep, familiar voice of Dean calls quietly from the other side of her room. “It’s open!” Y/N called out, still flipping through her magazine as she laid on her stomach.

The door slowly opened, revealing Dean as he walked inside and closed the door behind him. He smiled, his eyes lighting up as he saw her on the bed, her legs resting in the air, lazily flipping through her magazine. He walked over to the bed and plopped down onto it beside her, gently taking the magazine out of her hands and tossing it to the floor.

“What the-“ Y/N exclaimed when Dean took her magazine away from her. The clear look of despair on his face as he ran a hand through his dark blonde locks. “What’s wrong, charming?” She asked concerned, tilting her head. Dean sighed, laying beside her on the bed, his arms splayed out. "Nothin'," he grumbled, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Bullshit, you don’t just come into my room unless you want me to cover for you so you can hook up with some chick or unless you got something on your mind. Now spill, asshat” She pointed out the obvious, pressing on his clear frustration as she pushed herself up to lean against the bed frame.

Dean snorted, turning his head to look at her. "Can't a guy just want to spend time with his favorite girl?" he asked, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. Y/N gave him a tired and unimpressed look at his statement, not buying it one second. “Talk.” She said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Dean grumbled under his breath, knowing there was no way he was getting out of this one. He caved in, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Fine," he muttered. "It's just...dad wants me to cut my hair. Says the long hair isn’t ‘manly’ enough” Dean groaned, sprawling his arms out on the bed.

Y/N almost shot up from the bed at his statement, she wasn’t gonna admit it, but she fucking loved the long hair on Dean, and the thought of John making him cut it pissed her off. “He said WHAT?!” She exclaimed, absolutely bewildered.

"Yeah, I know," Dean grumbled, rolling his eyes. "It's stupid, right? I mean, I like my hair the way it is, but dad..." he trailed off, frustrated. “Fuck, John” Y/N’s firm tone cut him off, “You’re a grown man, Dean. You don’t need to listen to his ass 24/7” She stated, pointing her finger at him firmly before crossing her arms over her chest, leaning back into the bedframe

Dean chuckled, shaking his head, amused by her little outburst. "I know, I know," he agreed, propping himself up on his elbows on his side to face her. "But you know how he and your dad are. They expect us to do what they say, no questions asked." Y/N rolled her eyes again, “Yeah, I know. Which is why you shouldn’t do it” She stated as if it’s obvious.

"Easier said than done, princess," Dean muttered, running a hand through his hair. "You know how stubborn dad is. Once he's set on something, it's almost impossible to change his mind."

“It’s YOUR hair, charming. If you wanna keep it, then keep it dude. I’m kinda digging the boyband look” She teased, nudging him slightly. Dean chuckled, a hint of a blush staining his cheeks at her comment. "Boyband, huh?" he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "You think I look like a member of NSYNC or something?"

“Nahhh. I’m getting a more Nick Carter vibe” She retorted, playfully ruffling his locks. Dean swatted her hand away, a mock glare on his face. "You did not just say I look like Nick Carter," he huffed, but an amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I'll have you know, I look way better than that hack" he said, running a hand through his hair again, trying to maintain his feigned annoyance with her as he tried to fix the mess she made of his locks. Y/N gasped dramatically, “You take that back!” She smacked his arm.

“That man is a national treasure, you’re lucky to even be breathing the same air as him” She pointed a firm finger at Dean. Dean chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, I take it back," he said, grinning at her feigned outrage. "Nick Carter is a national treasure, and I am not fit to be in his presence."

Y/N grinned, patting his head playfully, “Good boy” She taunted, leaning back against the bed-frame to get more comfortable. “Are you really gonna do it though?” Her tone fell more serious. Dean sighed, his playful mood from a moment ago evaporating. "I don’t know,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair again. “I mean, I don’t really want to cut it, but Dad’s been on my ass about it for weeks now.”

"He keeps saying it’s unprofessional and that it’s not how a hunter should look," he continued, his frustration returning. "But I just don’t see the big deal, you know? A long-ass mullet hasn’t stopped me from ganking monsters and kicking some major ass."

Y/N pumped her fist in the air. “Amen, brother. You’re preaching to the choir” Dean chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Yeah, I figured you'd be on my side," he said, giving her a grin. "You've never been one to follow the rules anyway."

“That’s exactly why I’m on house arrest and dad left your ass to babysit me” Y/N snorted, shaking her head. She and her father got into yet another argument recently about his asshole tendencies, so he ‘grounded’ her and left her in Georgia with Dean to babysit. As if a 19-year old girl needed a babysitter. The thought made her roll her eyes.

"Hey, I'll have you know I am a great babysitter," Dean said with a smirk, playfully knocking on the top of her head. "I make sure you're well fed, protected, and entertained, all while dealing with your dumbass."

This earned Dean a smack to the back of his head by Y/N, along with a harsh glare. "Hey, hey! I was joking!" Dean protested, rubbing the back of his head where she smacked him. He smirked at her glare, knowing she wasn't nearly as upset with him as she wanted him to believe.

“Whatever” She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Now get out” She shoved him off the bed using her hip. “I wanna watch Fast and Furious” Dean let out a groan of protest as he rolled off the bed and onto the floor with a thud. "The Fast and Furious?” he said, sounding incredulous. "Again? Isn't this like the third time you've rewatched that movie this week?"

“Shut up, Paul Walker is worth it. And you know you love it” Y/N rolled her eyes, picking up the remote to her DVR set on her nightstand. "Yeah, yeah," Dean grumbled, picking himself up off the floor and sitting on the edge of the bed. "I swear, if I have to hear you fangirl over Paul Walker again I might puke."

She raised her foot again to kick him off the bed, “Out!” She demanded, tossing a pillow at him. Dean stumbled back slightly, barely dodging the pillow being tossed at him. "Alright, alright, I'm going," he said, holding up his hands in surrender. He stood up, making his way towards the door but not before shooting her a smirk over his shoulder. "But for the record, I think Vin Diesel is way cooler."

That statement earned Dean another pillow being hauled at his head, along with Y/N pointing firmly at the door. Dean quickly ducked to avoid the pillow, a laugh escaping his lips. "Alright, I'm going, I'm going." He chuckled, walking out of the room, but not before sticking his tongue out at her playfully.

When Dean closed the door, Y/N found herself sinking into her bed, blushing profusely. As Dean closed the door behind him, he leaned against it for a moment, a small smile still on his face. He shook his head rapidly when he realized he was blushing a bit, blinking frantically before catching himself. Striding over to his room.

____________________________________________

It was now a few days later, John and F/N are still yet to return from their hunt. The house was running low on supplies, so using their emergency fraud cards, Dean went to the grocery to get some stuff for Y/N to make dinner.

As Dean pulled up to the house, he saw Y/N sitting on the front porch, smoking a cigarette. He parked the Impala and climbed out, bags of groceries in his hand, making his way up to the house. He braced himself for the inevitable reaction she was going to have to his new haircut.

She seemed to be lost in her own mind as she took a drag from her cigarette, the headphones to her Walkman tucked into her ears, the sound of Nickelback blasting through the headphone, her eyes closed as she banged her head along to the beat.

Dean chuckled at the sight of her as he approached the house, setting the bags of groceries down on the porch beside her. He then reached down, gently pulling the headphones from her ears, a smirk plastered on his face.

Y/N's eyes snapped open at the sudden absence of her music, her eyes widening in surprise as she saw Dean standing in front of her with bags of groceries. Her jaw dropped and her cigarette fell from her fingers as she took in the sight of his new haircut. He was now sporting a shorter, more neat look, a drastic change from the longer, boy band look he had previously.

Dean snickered at her reaction, his smirk widening as he took in the look on her face. "Surprise," he said, gesturing to his new haircut. He leaned against the banister, waiting for her to say something, anything.

Y/N shot up from her seat, quickly stepping on the cigarette bud with the heel of her slippers before smacking Dean. “You dumbass!” She exclaimed, grabbing the elder Winchester by his face, pulling it down to her level to examine his head.

"What the hell?" Dean exclaimed, stumbling back as Y/N suddenly shot up from her seat and began smacking him. He winced as she grabbed his face, her grip surprisingly firm as she pulled his face down to hers.

"Hey, watch the hair!" He protested, but his protests fell on deaf ears as Y/N began to examine his new haircut closely. “You barely have any more me to watch!” Y/N shot back, still holding a squirming Dean’s head between her hands. “You trusted some rando with your mane?! I should throttle you” She scoffed, finally letting go of his head.

Dean could’ve sworn he saw tears welling up in her eyes. "Hey, it's just hair," Dean said with a shrug, running a hand through his freshly-cut locks. "It'll grow back." He chuckled, trying to mask the disappointment he felt at her reaction to his new haircut. Although, he kind of knew how much she loved his long hair.

“You look amazing either way, Dean” Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “But- the boy band look” She whined lightly with a bit of a pout. Dean chuckled, shaking his head as he saw the pout on her face. "Ah, come on, don't give me that look,” he said, gently poking her in the forehead. “I promise, it’ll grow back” He said with a small smile.

Y/N swatted his hand away playfully, shooting him a glare with no real heat behind it. “You’re lucky I don’t hate it” She scoffed, picking a few of the groceries from the porch. “Oh, so you’re saying you don’t hate it?” Dean teased, grabbing the rest of the groceries before following her into the house, a smirk on his face.

“That means you kinda like it?” Placing a hand on his forehead and pretending to swoon. Y/N snorted, rolling her eyes as they placed the groceries down on the counter. “Not hating and liking something is a very broad line” She retorted.

"But it still falls under the category of you not completely hating my new haircut," Dean pointed out with a smirk as he started to put away the groceries. "So technically, this still means you like it." Y/N mocked his words in a high pitched tone before asking, “What do you want for dinner?”

Dean chuckled at her mockery of his words, chucking a roll of paper towels at her, before answering her question. which she easily dodged. "I don't know. I picked up some stuff to make tacos."

She smiled, knowing that he loved the way she made tacos. She made them perfectly every time, just how he liked them. “And let me guess? Pie?” She mused with a knowing grin.

Dean smirked back at her, grabbing a pot from the cupboard. “Of course. Pie’s my true love.” He joked, but there was a hint of truth to his words. He did love his pie almost as much as he loved the woman standing in front of him.

Y/N chuckled and rolled her eyes at his response. "I knew that would be your answer. You're so predictable." She teased, opening up the fridge and grabbing the ingredients for their dinner. "Hey, hey, I'm not predictable," Dean protested, feigning indignation.

"I'll have you know I'm a man of mystery" He said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter. Y/N snorted as she took out a pack of ground beef from the fridge. “Dean, the only thing mysterious about you is how the hell do your socks smell so nasty?” She cackled, tossing her head back.

“Don’t knock the funk, babe.” Dean protested, holding a hand over his heart as if she had offended him. “And it’s called manly pheromones. Women dig it.” Y/N grimaced at him, pressing a hand to her chest “As a woman, from Planet Actual Woman. We don’t” She whispered the last part, flashing him a sly wink.

Dean let out a mock gasp of shock. "You don't?" He asked incredulously, putting on a wounded expression. “Then how do you explain all the times you’ve stolen my shirts?” Y/N’s eyes widened, she quickly reached for the pack of new paper towels, tossing it at him.

“Nice aim, sweetheart," Dean chuckled, easily dodging the paper towels again. Y/N just shot him a middle finger aimed in his direction, mumbling something about ‘lacing his tacos with laxatives’.

When she turned away from him, her cheeks were burning red at the fact that he caught her red handed. But she quickly schooled the act, so he didn’t notice.

Author's Note: This one has been in my drafts for a few days now and I’m finally letting it see light lol.

Hope everyone likes it!!

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2 @zigzoggy

@hey-its-zoe-blog @modiddys-blog

Xoxo

#dean winchester #supernatural #spn #sam winchester #dean and sam #sam and dean #supernatural fandom #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #Genesis Primis #The Old Testament Series #the beginning of their downfall

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sonotpattismith · 2 days

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My Lost, Fearless Leader.

(Yuta Okkotsu x Reader)

As the men masqueraded, I hoped you’d return with your feet on the ground, tell me all that you’d learned, because love’s never lost once perspective is earned.

word count: 9k

warnings: angst, me never making it easy for poor Yuta

a/n: inspired by Peter by Taylor Swift. Lowkey a self-insert as I too am a therapist, tee hee. I hope y’all enjoy it, I absolutely love writing for Yuta even though I make him suffer every time 🥹🫶🏻

masterlist.

Dear Okkotsu,

I know you only landed last week, but you left me with so many questions when you said goodbye. At the risk of sounding too forward, I thought for a moment that you would kiss me before you left. You had a look in your eye, one I’d never seen before, and I even thought I saw you square your shoulders like you were about to charge into battle.

Inumaki offered to give me your number when I asked about you, but I feared too quick of a response if I were to text you. After all, I love to torture myself. Somehow a letter felt safer, more disconnected. Still, I hope you have the time to write back to me while you’re out there growing as you so desperately wanted to.

You still have me in your corner here in Tokyo.

With kind regards,

L/N.

Dear L/N,

I hope this letter gets to you soon, though I know it has some way to go— I don’t want to leave you waiting again. I wondered if I should just text you, but you’re right, maybe this is best for wimps like me who were too scared to kiss the girl they like before traveling oceans away. There’s more courage in me hiding behind a pen than I ever had standing in front of you.

No matter how badly I wanted to show you how I felt, I didn’t feel worthy enough when I looked at that scar on your face— one I should have been able to prevent. There’s so much for me to learn about this world, and Gojo-Sensei says Kenya is where I need to be. I trust him implicitly, and I only hope here I’ll be able to grow into someone worthy of coming back to all of you at Jujutsu High. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, but I hope to become someone worthy enough to indulge myself in you as well.

I hope you can find it in you to wait for me all the way in your corner of Tokyo.

Respectfully,

Okkotsu.

Dear Okkotsu,

You were right, your letter did travel far, and after two weeks, I feared I may not ever hear back from you.

What happened with Geto Suguru wasn’t your fault, and, if I remember correctly, you were the one that saved all of us that night. It breaks my heart that you feel you don’t have a place here with us. I never thought you needed to prove yourself, and if that’s the only reason you went thousands of miles away— then you should board the next flight back over.

If I had known it was the scar on my face that stopped you, I would have covered it just for you. No one else around here is willing to take the blame for me when I break one of Maki’s spears— that alone should earn you a spot right beside me over here. Speaking of, I hope the bump on your forehead has gone down.

Luckily for the both of us, patience is my best virtue, but I do hope you don’t make me wait terribly long. You don’t have to be the strongest.

Holding my breath,

Y/N.

Dear L/N,

Maybe eventually I’ll work up the courage to call you, but our weeks of waiting in between will just have to do for now.

I think you’re beautiful— regardless of your scar, and I hope I didn’t send the wrong message when I said it’s what stopped me. I only meant that it reminded me of the kind of guy that deserves your attention, one that has brought about more good than he has bad in his life.

I’ve hurt so many people, and it wouldn’t be right of me not to try to make up for the wrongs I’ve caused. It’s only been a month, but Miguel has taught me so much, and I’ve seen so many wonderful things. I’m not sure if you’re interested, but I’m sending you some pictures of all my favorite parts.

I hope Maki has been merciful to you, and, yes, my bump is gone. Still, the little scar there reminds me of you each time I see it. So, I suppose I should thank her.

We’ve been talking so much about me, but I want to hear how you’re doing back in your corner of the world. How have your classes been going? I almost miss hearing everyone arguing with Gojo-Sensei every morning.

I don’t want to be the strongest, but I want to be strong enough to be worthy of you. The last thing I want is to keep you waiting too long, but however long it takes for me to be able to make a mark on those who have shown such faith in me.

Thinking of you,

Okkotsu.

Dear Yuta,

Surely that’s not you in that picture beside the giraffe? It’s only been two months— what are they feeding you over there? I had to do a triple take. You look well, Okkotsu.

I’m starting to wonder if it’s really you behind that ink. You were never so bold when you were here. Do you have a ghostwriter? I have my doubts, but I still hope all those thoughtful words really are coming from you.

I can see how hard you’ve been working, and I hope you’re beginning to find in yourself the pride I and all us here at home have always had in you. I don’t think anyone blames you for the unfairness that’s clung to you thus far, and no one expects you to make up for any of it— at least I know I don’t. If you really insist on doing so though, maybe you can start by giving me a call every once and a while? I’m sure you're busy, but I’d love to hear your voice again.

Classes have been going well. We’re almost going into our second year now, and everyone still talks so fondly of you. We wish you were here to start the year with us. I certainly miss having someone who was equally as clueless when it came to this world— it felt like you were the last shred of normalcy I was hanging onto. It’s okay though, I suppose I have some growing to do too.

Also, you don’t need to be so formal with me, I think you’ve earned the first name basis. Unless of course, you need to build up the courage for that, too.

I only felt it was fair to send some pictures of all of us here as well— though they’re nowhere near as badass as your safari photos. Please keep sending them— I’ll cherish the ones I have here for now though.

Still waiting for you,

Y/N.

Three months following Yuta’s departure from Tokyo, you first received an actual call from him. You had just turned in for the night, muscles aching from the mission you and Maki had just returned from only an hour or two prior. Truthfully, you were having a difficult time with the added responsibility that was accompanying your new year at Jujutsu High.

Last year, at the very least, you had Yuta there who seemed on a fairly level playing field with you. Still, he held more of a determination to move forward in his life as a sorcerer than you did. After your encounter with Geto Suguru that had left you partially blinded in your right eye, it was difficult for you to find that gusto you had when you first arrived.

The deep lulls of slumber had just begun to penetrate your exhausted mind, and you could swear a more pleasant dream was just beyond your reach. When your phone began vibrating underneath your still cool pillow, your brows furrowed at the intrusion. The sound caused an electric-like jolt in your body that had you shooting up as if someone had just pulled the fire alarm. Calming your racing heart, you reached down to snatch the device up. Your eyes squinted to adjust to the blue light emitting from the screen, and you saw a number you didn’t recognize. Under the caller location though, it indicated that it was coming from Kenya.

Sitting up with a gasp, you gaped down at the device, uncertain excitement bubbling in your stomach and up your chest. Without a second thought, you swiped to answer the call. Amidst your anticipation of who you thought might be on the other line, you forgot to greet the caller.

“Um… uh- hello?”

A smile spread across your cheeks at the sound of his timid voice.

“A call from Kenya,” You began teasingly, your voice still hoarse from sleep. “I wonder who it could be.”

There was an abrupt shuffling on the other line, and you could already picture him pacing around whatever space he was currently occupying.

“You got me!” Yuta quipped nervously, quickly checking the time on his phone upon hearing the sleepy tone that laced your voice. It wasn’t too late over in Tokyo, and he figured if he didn’t call you now while he still had the nerve to do it, he never would. Okkotsu had determined during his time in Kenya that his confidence somehow peaked right after a successful mission. Naturally, this was when he calculated it would be the best time to call you with the lowest possibility of making a stuttering fool of himself. “Di-Did I wake you? I can call back another-”

“After you took three months to gather all that courage up?” You joked with a fond smile, reaching down to toy with the corner of your pillow. Despite the fact that he couldn’t see you, you shook your head. “I think I can stay up for a few minutes.”

He was grateful, so eternally grateful that you couldn’t see the way the blood rushed up his neck and into his face. Pressing a cool hand against his cheek as if it would make the heat die down, he forced himself to sit on the edge of his bed, bottom lip caught between his teeth. It had been too long already since he last spoke, and the silence on the call was becoming overbearing as he thought of anything to say.

“You there, Yuta?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m, uh-- still here.” The boy chuckled pathetically, pounding his balled up fist against his thigh, willing himself to quit being such a loser. Shooting up to begin his short trek around his room once again, he took a deep breath. “I-I wanted to thank you. You know, for writing to me the past few months. I think they’ve been kind of motivating me, actually.”

“Yeah?” You smiled, lying back down on your pillow to stare stupidly up at the ceiling of your dorm. In hearing that shy voice that you had been missing for so long, you had forgotten about the aching, abused muscles that had been assaulting you just minutes prior. In its place was the rushing endorphins of your child-like crush on the boy on the other line. “So, when you come back strong enough to beat Sensei’s ass, I can take partial credit, right?”

His soft laugh filled your once silent room, inciting the overwhelming butterflies in your stomach to erupt in a fluttering haze.

“It’ll all be you.” Yuta joked halfheartedly, rubbing the back of his neck in relief that he’d gotten past the awkward silence unscathed. He flopped back down onto his bed and looked out the window at the slowly setting sun. “Uh… speaking of Sensei, how is everything over there? The exchange event is coming up soon, right?”

This made your smile slowly wane.

“Yeah, it’s next month. There was some drama with the first years, but everyone else seems to be pretty excited.”

“Everyone else? It sounds like you’re not including yourself in there.”

You sighed gently. Yuta was always so determined about growing as a sorcerer, so these types of events were always right up his alley. Not to mention the manner in which he absolutely wiped out the sister school at last year’s event. It actually caused a bit of second-hand embarrassment to watch the whole ordeal play out— no matter how quickly it concluded. After the atrocities of the past few months though, you couldn’t find it within yourself to be excited for the goodwill event.

It wasn’t that long ago that you watched all your friends meet near death at the hands of Suguru Geto, and you weren’t too far behind. They had all seemingly moved on from it all so fast— all of them except for Yuta Okkotsu. It seemed that all it had done was given him more ammunition to spark his journey of self discovery. You wished it had had the same effect on you. In truth though, all it sparked was a fear that your life, along with your friends, was constantly at the mercy of a crueler fate than most your age would be subjected to.

It felt wrong. Yuta shouldn’t have felt the need to bear the weight of you and your friends’ injuries all on his own. He shouldn’t have needed to go off to search for some unknown answer to all the insecurities his grueling life had thrust upon him. Still, it was so important to him. You could see the way it gave him purpose, a will to keep going despite all that he’d been through. It wasn’t his fault, but you always wished you could have found that same purpose within slaying curses and putting your life on the line.

A soft call of your name on the other line pulled you from your self-depricating thoughts. Shaking your head, you attempted to lighten the mood.

“Last name again? So formal. I thought we were past that, Okkotsu.”

“Oh-- right, sorry.” He stammered out before trying your first name out on his lips. It was delicate in the way it rolled off his tongue, sending warmth straight through your chest. Recalling your sudden silence once his nerves subsided, his lips pulled pensively into a thin line. “Um, have you been doing okay? You know, since…”

Brows rising just a hair, you were shocked at how easily he read through your sudden change in tone. Your lip quivered into a slight frown. A deep breath was suddenly pushing down that biting urge you had to tear up.

“Yeah, I’ve been okay. Just… wish you were still here is all.” You confessed into the dark, lonely dorm room. “I think you were the only one who understood how overwhelming this all was.”

Yuta felt his chest constrict at your earnest confession. Part of him felt guilty for not being there, but he knew deep down that he was doing the right thing by building himself up before he allowed himself to come back— especially to you. Still, the boy knew where you were coming from. It wasn’t easy being the newcomer in a world where your peers had a fifteen year head start on.

The two of you understood each other—empathized with one another. You both strived to make sure the other was doing okay; whether that be sneaking out late at night to practice with one another in hopes you both wouldn’t make fools of yourselves in training the next day, or just being someone that the other could glance knowingly at when one of your classmates mentioned something it seemed that everyone else was privy to, except you two.

“I’m getting stronger everyday.” Yuta offered earnestly, a soft, empathetic smile playing on his lips— the kind you could just hear through his gentle tone. “And I know you are too. We’re gonna kick some major butt one day, y’know?”

The boy was relieved when your glittering laugh filled his speakers, and he found himself laughing along with you. A comfortable silence blanketed over you two, and for a moment it felt as though you were laying right beside him, your gentle breaths lighting a fire within his soul. The courage that he thought he had lost upon hearing your voice for the first time in months was slowly flooding back to him, and he began pensively rolling his bottom lip between his fingers.

“Hey,” Okkotsu called out feebly, resting his hand down on his chest and feeling his heart pounding against his fingers. Reaching down to your discarded letter beside him, he picked up the picture you’d sent along with it. It was of all the second years, and he wondered with a smile if you had Gojo-Sensei take it for you all, and, if so, how much he complained about not being included.

You stood in the middle of Inumaki and Maki, Panda standing proudly and towering behind you. His thumb reached out to graze softly over your face. In the photo, one of your hands was teasingly covering your right eye, and he blushed as he remembered your earlier conversation about that scar. You hummed in acknowledgment on the other line. “Did you mean it? You know… when you said you’d wait for me?”

“Did you mean it when you said you were gonna come back for me?” You countered quickly.

Yuta exhaled nervously, the churning in his chest making him feel as though he might pass out. Staring back at your smiling face in the photo, he nodded breathlessly.

“Of course, I meant it. I meant every word.”

“Then so did I.”

Yuta Okkotsu’s reassuring promise helped ground you in your studies of jujutsu for a while longer, but you could still feel the aching insistence in the back of your mind that told you this wasn’t where you were meant to be. Your friendship with the sorcerer continued to grow even over the thousands of miles that separated you.

He’d call you whenever he had the chance to, and you’d text him about updates on what all his friends had been up to without him. Although both Inumaki and Maki kept up with him regularly, he allowed you to retell stories he’d more often than not already heard from them.

He could tell that you were struggling to find and hold your place as a sorcerer. You always listened enthusiastically when he’d tell you about the new techniques he was learning or the missions he’d been sent on, nodding along on the other line and hanging onto every word he said. Still, when he’d await to hear the progress of your training or how your latest mission had gone, you didn’t have the same enthusiasm in your tone.

It had been almost a year since he’d been gone. The two of you had never implicitly discussed the nature of your relationship, but your lingering promise to each other seemed to be enough to keep your hearts locked safely away for the other’s return. As the months dragged on though, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was worth staying in the world of jujutsu that seemed to so expertly traumatize you and your peers.

You insisted on video calling him for once, eager to once again put a face to the voice that had been filling your every night for the past few months. Maybe, you thought to yourself, if you saw those warm, inviting eyes again paired with that timid smile, you’d find it in you to hold out just a bit longer.

“Ca-Can you see me?” Yuta’s ever anxious voice filled your quiet room once again. The palm of his hand briefly covered the camera before it was moved away, and it appeared as though he had propped you up on a dresser of some sort. He stepped back, hunching over so his face was still in the frame, staring hesitantly into the screen.

A brief exhale of disbelief left you at the sight of him. He had changed so much over the past year; from the inches he’d sprouted up, to the new broadness of his lean shoulders, right down to his more maturely parted hair as it swayed in his face.

His features appeared sharper than when you’d last seen him, a testament to how much he’d grown physically as well as mentally. The dark circles you remember being everpresent under his long, midnight-blue eyes seemed even more pronounced now, and you wondered just how hard this Miguel character had been working him. Despite his apparent lack of sleep though, he grinned cheerfully upon seeing your face.

Forgoing your previous concern, an ecstatic smile of your own lit up your face as you took him in. You had always thought he had a sort of innocent, gentle cuteness to him, but time and knowledge seemed to have morphed those characteristics into the sharp, hauntingly striking ghost of the boy you once knew presented before you. For the first time since knowing him, you thought you felt more nervous than he did at the moment.

“Wow! You look--” He paused, a slight flush filling his face, and suddenly he was that timid boy again, staring down at you with the false promise of a kiss. Your heart melted at the sight. Yuta was still looking nervously back at you, mouth hanging open as if his mind was running faster than his tongue could process. You raised your brows expectantly at him, hiding your amused smile. “Uh—pretty! You— you look really pretty.”

A soft blush fell across your cheeks.

“Thanks, Yuta.” You laughed softly, eyes fluttering across his face admiringly. “You look like you’ve… grown.”

“Oh, me?” He laughed skittishly, hand coming up to rustle through his jet black locks. His brows were furrowed slightly as he looked down at his own appearance as if he was only just now noticing the growth spurt he’d had in the past year. “Yeah! I guess—”

“Is that blood on your shirt?” You suddenly noticed, leaning forward so your squinting eyes could get a better look at the dark matter that clung to his white top. His eyes shot up to meet yours, and in an instant, his fumbling hands were working to unbutton his uniform shirt. It was no use though, the white t-shirt underneath was also stained through.

“Sorry, I just got back from a mission.” He admitted dejectedly, grabbing the phone and sitting on the floor, resting his back against the bed behind him. “I would’ve showered, but I didn’t want to keep you up too late.”

You sat back against your headboard tentatively. It was incredible to you how he was never phased by the violence and bloodshed that shrouded this lifestyle. There were so many nights that you lay awake, eyes unblinking as you tried to forget the horrors you’d witnessed just long enough to get some sleep.

“How do you do it, Yu?” You asked timidly.

Yuta took in the way your wide eyes glimmered with the threat of unspilled tears. There it was again— that underlying fear in your tone and demeanor that told him that something wasn’t quite right, and it hadn’t been right since you came so close to death.

“What do you mean, love?” He wasn’t sure where that term of endearment came from, maybe from the concern that had been pooling in him for months and had now suddenly burst upon seeing that broken look in your eyes. Either way, it was too late to take it back now.

“Act like everything’s normal when you come home covered in blood and guts and watch people die— watch your friends—”

“I’m doing this for my friends.” His response had a defensive edge to it, but his wide eyes were gentle, taking in your vulnerable state carefully. “And for the people I’ve had to watch die. Bad things will happen whether I’m a part of them or not. How can I sit back and do nothing when that’s all I’ve done my entire life?”

You suddenly felt small in your corner of the world. He was selfless, fearless, purposeful in his mission as a sorcerer, and you couldn’t fault him for it. Moreso, you faulted yourself for lacking that same drive.

“I just– sometimes I feel like this isn’t for me. I’m not like you, Yuta. I don’t think I’m strong enough for this. I’m not strong enough for this.”

Yuta continued to insist upon believing in your growth, just as you had believed in his. His persistence in your strength of character only served to break your heart more. You knew the deeper his faith in you ran, the more crushing his disappointment would be when you inevitably let him down.

In the weeks following your dismayed conversation with him, you weren’t answering his calls as often, afraid he would be on the other line hoping to hear of your growth and the things you’d overcome— but you had none to show for. You usually texted him with false excuses that you were on a mission, or that you were simply too tired to talk that night. No matter how hard you tried to pride yourself in your little victories, your faith in your abilities as a sorcerer was waning quickly before your eyes.

He had always said that he was the one undeserving of his place in this world— of his place beside you. The stronger he grew though, the more you only noticed the opposite.

It was a month after your phone call that you received a small package from Kenya, recognizing the stamp immediately as one of the various animal themed ones Yuta seemed to keep stockpiled just for you. Chewing at your bottom lip, a sense of guilt washed over you, knowing you hadn’t been keeping up with him as much as you once did. Despite this, he continued to try, desperate to get through to you somehow before you slipped from between his fingers all together.

Ripping open the orange, padded envelope, you overturned the contents onto your bed. The wooden beads of a bracelet clacked softly against one another as they fell upon the comforter, a letter landing gently atop it. You ran your fingers along the thin bracelet, thinking maybe if you concentrated long enough, you’d be able to feel the warmth of his fingers lingering from when he’d carefully placed it into the envelope for you. You picked up the accompanying letter.

Dear Y/N,

It seems like they’ve been keeping you really busy over there in your corner of the world! I had so much I wanted to tell you, but I thought maybe it’d be best to put it all into a letter so you could read it at a time that’s best for you.

Gojo-Sensei says that I’ll probably be coming back soon, maybe in the next couple of months even. If all goes well, I hope to be joining everyone for our final year. It’d be nice to all be together again. It’d be nice to actually see you again.

You don’t have to tell me everything, but I know you’ve been going through a hard time recently, and I’m sorry I’m not there to help you. You were wrong the other night on the phone— you are stronger than you think. This life isn’t easy, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re not fit for it just because it hurts you right now.

When I felt I had no strength left in me to keep going, it was you who lent me some of yours until I could stand again. I’m sending it back to you now, so please use it to keep moving forward until I can lend you some of mine. Please, keep waiting for me.

The beads on the bracelet I sent you represent all the things I wish for you. The red represent bravery and strength, the kind I know you have in you still. Until you find them though, let these be a reminder. The yellow are for growth, and until you can see it coming your way, let these motivate you.

I got one just like it for myself, so I can be reminded everyday of the things I love about you. I’ll keep it on me always, and I hope as you’re waiting that you’ll do the same.

Still yours,

Yuta.

Tears were streaming freely down your cheeks and staining the precious letter before you. With wobbling lips, you bit back a quiet sob as you carefully slipped the thin bracelet onto your wrist. Strength. Bravery. Growth. They were all pillars that seemed so far away from you, but Yuta was convinced you held them just within your grasp. If anything, the beads would serve as a reminder that someone important was counting on you, and you’d rather suffer the uphill battle than disappoint him.

The next morning, you woke early to speak with Gojo. He was lounging lazily in his large, plush chair, laptop sat carelessly on his lap when you came in. As if expecting you all along, he looked up from his bored typing to offer a sly smile— the type that told you he was always steps ahead of you.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Gojo greeted, closing his laptop and setting it haphazardly on his desk. Leaning back, he laced his fingers casually in his lap, jutting his chin toward the seat in front of him.

Hesitantly, you sat down. Your posture was rigid as you stared back at his half-covered face. Although your sensei had never given you a reason to fear him, you couldn’t help but feel anxious at the thought of how he might react to your request.

“I… I don’t know how to say this.”

He stayed silent, allowing you to collect your thoughts. The small smile tugging at his lips said he already knew what was plaguing your mind. Fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist, you were reminded of the importance that you stand your ground here.

“I’m not sure I’m cut out for being a sorcerer.” It was out there, and it hung heavily in the air around you. Looking down at your twiddling fingers, you felt that familiar lump building in your throat. Your sensei was silent before you. Glancing up at him through tear soaked eyes, you shrugged your shoulders in defeat. “I’m not like the others. I can’t bounce back like they do. It scares me; the death, the fighting, the loss— it terrifies me, Gojo. I can’t do it anymore. I-I just—”

“You’ve been struggling for a while now, haven’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question— an observation he’d been holding onto for some time. The older man wasn’t oblivious, he could see when his students were beginning to slip away; physically and mentally.

“How did you know?” You briefly wondered if Yuta had mentioned something to him during their regular check in calls, but you doubted it.

Standing abruptly from his chair, he strolled leisurely around the room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“You remind me of someone, is all.” Gojo’s cryptic message left more questions than answers. Though you had grown used to his dodgy answers and coded messages, now was really not the time. Before you could express your annoyance, he continued. “You’re not stuck, you know.”

Your mouth hung open as you stared at him in disbelief. Standing up to face him as he stared out the window, your mind was racing at the possibilities.

“You mean— I could leave? Just like that?”

“Just like that. I’d talk to the higher ups today for you if that’s really what you want.” Still, the edge in his tone indicated that he wasn’t about to let you off that easily. As if sensing your apprehension, he tilted his head playfully toward you, a fond smile on his face. “I’ve seen what this gig can do to people. I don’t need to see you fall victim to it too.”

“I mean— I…” You were stumbling over your words. For the past few years, you were sure that your future was set for you— one you were apprehensive about living, but one that was secure nonetheless. Where would you go from here?

Gojo hummed pensively— invitingly. God, how you wished he would just spit out what he clearly wanted so desperately to say. Of course, he always wanted his students to come to their own conclusions, set their own fates.

“The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.” The sensei announced dramatically, taking another lap around the room. You shivered at the mention of that night. He leaned toward you with a raised brow. “That’s when this all started, am I right? You almost died, if I remember correctly.”

“I would have if it hadn’t been for—”

“Yuta Okkotsu.” He cut you off, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips, and for a moment you thought you saw his head tilt down as if to look at the bracelet you were currently rolling between your fingers. Nodding softly, he continued. “Still, you cut it pretty close. Must have been traumatizing. Partially lost your sight, almost lost your friends, your life.”

You nodded silently, unsure of where he was going with this long winded rant. Of course, him giving you a simple out was just too easy for Gojo-Sensei’s ‘everything is a life lesson’ style of teaching.

“Tell you what, why don’t I set up a meeting for you to meet with a counselor? Someone who specializes in all our creepy-crawly problems?”

“Like… like therapy?” You questioned with furrowed brows. A therapist for sorcerers? You didn’t even know such a thing existed. Still, the prospect sparked a certain hope in your chest, one that the six eyes saw instantly. He didn’t bother to conceal his victorious smile.

“Yup. Nice, comfy couch and everything.” He advertised as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. His long fingers began typing purposefully against the screen before he looked up at you again. “Of course, she’s kind of running a one-man show, so her schedule is pretty tight. I can pull a few strings for you though.” His words rang in your mind with a faint echo. That suggestive, underlying tone in his voice, it was beginning to seep through, and your gut was telling you his suggestion was a lot more calculated than you would ever give him credit for. “That kind of work is in high demand, you know— what with all the new curses popping up since Itadori came along.”

Gojo was continuing to drop hints, but you had already heard him loud and clear. This was something he thought you could do— somewhere he knew you would fit within this hectic world. As a teacher, it was his job to train the up and coming sorcerers for the perils that lay ahead of them. In the same prospect though, he had also become incredibly adept at discovering their potential and nudging them toward it— even if it wasn’t as gently as he thought.

The following week you met with the therapist Gojo had supposedly pulled so many strings to get you in to see. She had a small office just minutes away from the school, and you wondered why she wasn’t on campus. She hadn’t suggested it to you first, though she was well aware of what Gojo was trying to do when he set up this meeting.

So, amidst your explanation of everything you had been experiencing since that night, you dropped in questions. How did she know this was the right path for her— how closely did she work with Jujutsu High— how did she get where she was?

By the gentle and encouraging manner in which she answered all of your questions, you had a gut feeling once again that Gojo had already been three steps ahead of you. You were set to transfer out of Jujutsu High the following week.

Your sensei funded your education through an outside university, who’s higher ups had connections with the school. Kaori, the god-sent sorcerer counselor who’d seemingly fallen from the heavens right when you needed her, was more than happy to take you under her wing as well. In truth, she was relieved to have some help around the office given the influx of referrals she’d been receiving recently.

Everything had been falling into place, yet there was still one last loose end you had yet to tie up from your life as a sorcerer. You looked down at the box of letters you’d kept over the past year or so from Yuta.

Following his last letter, and how determined he seemed to be that you would make it as a sorcerer— you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that you had given up. After everything he’d done to grow himself into the man he was now, a fearless and loyal sword to his friends and the innocent— and you had given up. In the end, despite his insistence that it was him not worthy enough to stick around, you realized it had been you all along.

You weren’t worthy of Yuta Okkotsu.

Your trembling finger hovered over his contact, but you couldn’t do it. Clicking your phone off, you stared up at the ceiling of your now empty dorm room and allowed the hot tears to burn your cheeks, dripping down your neck and into the hem of your shirt. He was still finishing up his training, growing into a man he could be proud of, experiencing the things that made him feel alive. It would be selfish of you to drop this on him now.

Setting down the box on your desk, you pulled out a spare sheet of paper and sat down to draft your last prose to Yuta Okkotsu.

Dear Yuta,

By the time you’re reading this, I’m sure you will have already heard about my departure from Jujutsu High. I wanted to call you and tell you everything that’s been on my mind, to give you a proper goodbye, but I didn’t want to interrupt your progress overseas.

I wanted to thank you for the kindness you’ve shown me over the years. I’ll cherish each bit of it as long as I live. You kept me holding on through my lowest points, even if it wasn’t the life of sorcery that I was holding onto.

I know I’m cowardly, but I just couldn’t look you in the eyes and tell you that I had given up. You’ve worked so hard and sacrificed so much to hold your place here, and I suppose a part of me feels foolish for giving mine up so easily.

Your passion for undoing the wrongs in this world is so beautiful, and although I couldn’t share it with you, it only ever made me love you more. Please never take it for granted. Continue to fight to hold your place here, because you hold more power than you could ever come to know. I can feel it, even when you’re not here.

I’m sorry that I couldn’t wait for you.

Forever yours,

Y/N

When Yuta Okkotsu arrived back at Jujutsu High three months later, he had already been sitting on the news of your departure for two weeks. His friends thought it best to at least prepare him for when he returned, but he figured so much when you stopped responding to his calls and messages. No amount of preparation could have stopped the hole from opening up in his chest upon reading the letter you’d left in his dorm room. It sat neatly on his untouched pillow— a ghost that haunted him the second he stepped in.

He tried with fervor to be excited for his return, smiling along half heartedly when his friends shoved a party hat on his head and insisted upon celebrating all the birthdays they’d missed. Those haunting blue eyes only stared lifelessly at the cake before him, his soul still sat on the edge of his bed where he’d read your letter.

Forever yours.

Yuta wondered if those simple two words meant the door was open for him to swing in and come find you as he so ardently promised he would. Gojo-Sensei said you were happy though— working toward your place in the world. It was one he no longer felt he had a place in— not when his life consisted so wholly of the very things you were running from.

Months passed, and the both of you tried so desperately to move on. Despite being content in the roots your lives had sprouted, there was always a missing piece that stopped the both of you from blossoming. You always held your breath in hopes he’d come back to you like he said he would, and he always hoped you were still waiting for him despite his insistence that you were happier without him. The both of you were only kids when you’d carelessly thrown out such a vow, after all.

Gojo felt whole-heartedly confident in his whim to have Kaori train you. There was a spark in you, one that wanted to heal those that this world had so carelessly wounded, even if that meant you having to heal yourself first. In the end, it was the right decision, and he prided himself in the fact that there was a happy medium to keep your talents within the jujutsu world still while also fulfilling your purpose. There was a missing piece of the puzzle that lingered ever present though, and that was the infuriating case of you and Yuta Okkotsu.

It was getting depressing— watching the boy mope around pretending to not have the very obvious chip on his shoulder all the damn time. Your old sensei still kept up with you and your progress often, seeing as the school worked closely with Kaori to refer in need sorcerers on a regular basis.

Each time he’d pop in for a visit or called unexpectedly, you’d always ask how everyone back at the school was doing. Sure, you really did hope your old friends were doing okay, but you were really holding your breath for when he’d mention Yuta. Gojo always spoke of him so highly, and you couldn’t help but smile fondly each time, thinking of how proud you were at how much he’d accomplished— just as he said he would. Still, the six eyes never missed that morose glimmer in your eye as you’d nod along to his stories.

“Have you ever tried sleeping at night, or are those dark circles just a part of you now?”

Yuta was snapped from his stupor when his sensei dropped unceremoniously beside him as he looked on at his friends ahead of him. As if having just been reminded of his perpetual exhaustion, he reached up subconsciously to rub at those aforementioned dark eyes.

“Oh, haha,” Yuta’s halfhearted attempt at a laugh only served to drive Gojo’s purpose right home. “Yeah, guess my sleep schedule never really adjusted back to normal, huh?”

“You aren’t performing like you should be, Okkotsu.”

He gaped exasperatedly at his sensei, blinking a few times as if maybe he just hadn’t heard him correctly. Frankly, he had been kicking ass lately, and everyone around him knew it too. Still, if Gojo-Sensei was telling him he was falling behind, it was seemingly the only opinion that mattered. Even if it wore him down till only his skeleton remained, he would keep getting better until he could prove himself to the man who took a chance on him.

Already picking up on the look of determination on the boy’s face, Gojo put out a solemn ‘slow your roll’ hand in front of him. Sighing in amusement, the sensei thought the boy would crush a semi-truck between his hands if it’d make him grow— meant he could prove himself.

“Your mind isn’t here. Hasn’t been since you got back. I can tell, you know.”

Okkotsu’s shoulders slumped dejectedly. No matter how much he worked to train physically, to learn to control his cursed energy and techniques, there was always that one lingering barrier that seemed to keep him from reaching his potential. Of course, he knew he had been more distracted since your departure, but he figured— hoped— it would pass eventually. He thought maybe if he ignored it long enough, pushed down that frenzy to rip his hair out by the roots and bellow out every frustration he’d held in for allowing you to slip away, each day as the urge melted away into dreams of you at night that woke him with a crater in his chest— maybe eventually it would fade just as you did.

“Try to get some rest, clear your mind. Do what you gotta do.” Gojo emphasized, leaning down to tower over his apprehensive prodigy with a knowing smile. His covered eyes flicked down to where Yuta’s fingers were rolling the beads of his colorful bracelet pensively. He hummed in amusement. “You know, I know someone who has that same bracelet.”

His student perked up ever so subtly upon hearing this. The prying man quickly moved to grasp his wrist and inspect the bracelet closer. It made Yuta feel exposed, wanting to crawl under his covers and not come out again if it meant no one else would lay their eyes on the one connection he still had to you. Gulping thickly, he snatched his wrist back, covering the wooden jewelry protectively under his other hand.

“Oh, you know her, don’t you?” Satoru feigned remembrance, snapping his fingers dramatically. “She used to go here.”

The stunned boy stammered out your name in question. It still felt so natural, so effortless rolling off of his tongue despite the prolonged period that had passed since he’d uttered those syllables.

“Yeah! Saw it on her just last week.”

All the blood seemed to drain from Yuta Okkotsu’s face. His wide, haunting eyes suddenly transfixed hazily on the smiling man before him in a manner that would have been terrifying had it been directed at a stranger. You still wore the bracelet he got you? The prospect had his mind spinning, and his stomach churning anxiously. The poor guy looked as though he would short circuit at any moment; brows twitching into a deep furrow, the corners of his lips fluttering in uncertainty. He blinked a few times before looking up at his sensei with a new sense of determination clouding his eyes.

“Where did you say she went?”

Bingo!

The clock’s ticking mocked you menacing as you raced to finish your assessment notes within the hour. Kaori was always merciful with you, understanding that you were still learning and would likely take more time with things, but you couldn’t help but urge yourself to do better.

It had been almost a year that you had been studying while working alongside the counselor, and you had blossomed in a way you never thought would have been possible. Granted, you weren’t able to do any of what you had lovingly labeled as ‘the fun stuff’ yet, you had adjusted surprisingly well to the countless intake assessments and documentation your mentor had entrusted you with. Of course, it wasn’t the same as having a second counselor there with her, but anything helped ease the weight of her overwhelming caseload. She knew it was good experience for you too.

Despite her hectic schedule, Kaori still found time to meet with you often to check in regarding the struggles that brought you to her in the first place, insisting it would be a crucial step in your training as well. Slowly but surely, you were beginning to rebuild that confidence in yourself and your own purpose in this monstrous world. It felt cathartic, being a part of the process of healing for those torn down by the very things that hurt you so long ago as well. It was meaningful— fulfilling.

You wondered if this was how Yuta felt when he was out there, helping people as well, just in his own way. A sharp pang struck you each time your mind wandered too far though, and you were always quick to reel it back in.

Your bottom lip was caught ruthlessly between your teeth, and it seemed the clacking of your keyboard was fighting against the ticking of the clock for dominance. A small spark of defeat struck you as you heard the door of the office creak open. Looking up at the time, your brows furrowed in confusion. You were sure that you had already completed the last intake Kaori had scheduled for you today. Scrambling into the drawer beside you to pull out a new form, you hoped you would at least look somewhat prepared whenever the unexpected patient came to your desk.

“Hi, there!” You called out from your tucked away cubicle, fumbling to save the document you were working on. “I’m back here, you can come on in.”

Slow footsteps approached closer and closer before pausing in front of your desk. Pushing the hair from your eyes, you looked up with a warm, inviting smile.

Oh.

The smile on your face slowly faded as Yuta Okkotsu towered over your desk. It wasn’t the version of him you once knew; this one was taller, more refined, more calculated with the manner in which he held himself. His wide, midnight-blue eyes regarded you carefully, but his face revealed nothing. Your mouth opened and closed pathetically, your mind desperately trying to catch up with the way your day had suddenly progressed. Stepping forward, he calmly sank down into the chair in front of you, hands gripping the arms casually.

“Yu—”

“I heard you offer counseling for sorcerers, right?” He was suddenly smiling sweetly at you, but there was a controlled glint in his eyes— holding him back. Not allowing you to respond, he continued. “Well, I have some things to get off my chest, so it’s lucky I found you, huh?”

You sank back into your chair, allowing the papers in your hands to slip from your fingers and swoosh softly onto the desk. Nodding gently, you urged him to go on, anxiety balling up in the pit of your stomach. He launched off on a long-winded story, one you already knew like the back of your hand— you lived it, after all. Your already knowing the climax didn’t stop the furious blush that overtook you as he recalled the letter he’d found in his dorm upon his arrival back to Tokyo.

“She always had this sweet way of signing off all her letters to me.” Yuta recounted with a soft smile, eyes glimmering as they looked back at you. Yours, on the other hand, were holding back the dam of tears that had been building up for countless months. As the first tear slipped down your cheek, you saw his resolve start to crumble, gaze chasing the drop as it raced down your skin. His bottom lip trembled. “She signed that last one— she signed it off ‘forever yours’, but I never saw her again.”

“Yuta—”

“Why didn’t you just tell me you weren’t happy?” He finally snapped, his own tears swimming in his eyes. Bracing his hands on the desk, he leaned forward desperately. “I would’ve understood, I would’ve—”

“I tried! I tried to tell you, but you were so sure that I was going to get through it. How was I supposed to look you in the eyes after you gave up so much of your life to train to be better? How was I supposed to tell you I was giving up?”

“You promised me!” His cry rang out in the quiet office, shoving his chair back to stand over you once again. You heard Kaori’s office door open abruptly, likely startled by the perceived altercation. Despite his dominating presence and lingering stance, you couldn’t find it in you to be intimidated by him. You shook your head softly toward your mentor, letting her know you were fine. As the door hesitantly shut once again, Yuta was sinking closer to you despairingly. “I would’ve come back for you— I wouldn’t have cared where I had to look, okay? I wouldn’t have cared that you left everything— but you weren’t supposed to leave me.”

His wounded tone finally caught up to you, and you let your head fall down onto your crumpled hands as you cried. Yuta sighed softly, almost regretting his stinging confession. Quickly looping around the desk, he settled down on his knees in front of you and turned you to face him.

“I’m sorry, Yuta.” You cried, falling into him as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you from your chair. He was stronger than you last remembered him being, but his touch was just as delicate. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Hey, it’s okay. We’re here now, right?” He assured gently, pulling you away from his chest so he could look at you with a smile, tears still clinging to his lashes. His cool hand ran down from your shoulder to your wrist, and he traced the bracelet that hadn’t come off your wrist since you received it. A soft flush covered his cheeks. “You kept it, huh?”

“You kept yours, too.” You laughed breathlessly, wiping at your cheeks with one hand and grasping his bracelet with the other.

“I told you, I always meant everything I said to you. I still do.” His words almost made you break down again, but you worried if you started boo-hoo crying again that Kaori might just burst through the door with more determination than she had last time.

So instead, you took a moment to glance over his matured face, shaking your head in amusement upon seeing those familiar dark circles still hanging under his eyes. Your heart clenched as your eyes ran across the small scar that Maki left on his forehead. When you met his gaze once again, it gave you pause. Yuta had that look in his eyes— the same one he had all those years ago before he left for Kenya. The rapid patter of your heart could be felt in your throat.

Despite your nerves, your lips twitched up into a knowing smile. You reached up tentatively to place a hand over your right eye, covering the scar that had stopped him all those years ago. He pursed his lips at this action and shook his head. In an instant, his long fingers were wrapping around your wrist to pull your hand away from your face.

“Don’t.” Yuta said simply before leaning down to capture your lips in his, more assuredly than his sixteen year old self ever could have dared to, but just as sweetly as the boy who promised to come back to you would have.

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perfectsunlight · 3 days

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[25] TRENDING

warnings: arguments, major angst, public pressure, panic attack

"why did you have to make it a big deal?” ivory groaned as jennie dragged her through the crowd, frustration boiling over. she yanked her arm out of her mother’s grip, glaring at her. “it was just one night! one drink!”

jennie spun around, her eyes blazing with a mix of anger and desperation. “one drink? is that what you think this is about? ivory, there were cameras! people were recording! do you have any idea what could happen if that video gets out?”

ivory crossed her arms, defiant. “i can deal with my own issues, you don’t need to control everything around me.” the younger girl protested, still clearly visibly upset.

“i’m not trying to control you,” jennie replied, her voice strained and pointed, “i’m trying to protect you! this isn’t just about you having a good time. do you know what it’s like to have your every move scrutinized? how one wrong step can ruin you? i lived through it, it destroyed me, and i’m not going to let that happen to you!”

“i’m not you!” ivory shot back, her voice rising. even in the dark, jennie could see the emotions painted on her daughter’s face. “i’m not going to make the same mistakes you did. you didn’t even raise me!”

jennie froze at her words, the accusation knocking the wind out of her lungs. her breath caught in her throat, but she quickly masked the hurt with a sharp inhale. she kept her composure, but her eyes flickered with an emotion jane hadn’t seen before—something raw, something deeply buried that her daughter had just unwittingly unearthed.

and truth be told, ivory regretted saying those words the moment they left her mouth.

“i tried,” jennie finally responded, her voice quieter now, laced with a trembling vulnerability. “i did everything i could to make sure you didn’t have to grow up thinking you weren’t loved. i did what i could.”

the younger idol clenched her fists, her own anger mixing with guilt, but she couldn’t back down. “you don’t get to use that as an excuse every time you screw up! you weren’t there when i needed you. you were always off somewhere—on tour, in another country, doing fucking photoshoots—while grandma raised me.”

her maternal heart twisted painfully at jane’s words. she knew there was truth in them, but hearing it out loud from her daughter felt unbearable. her voice faltered, but she tried to steady it. “you think i didn’t want to be there? you think it didn’t kill me every time i had to leave you behind? i did it all for you, ivory.”

“yeah, well, i didn’t ask for that!” ivory shouted, her frustration spilling over. “i didn’t ask for you to sacrifice everything for me. i just wanted you! not the fame, not the money, not the gifts—just my mom.”

jennie’s jaw tightened, her emotions swirling just beneath the surface. she wanted to argue back, to defend herself, but she couldn’t. the truth was, there were times when she’d chosen her career over being present, and she knew she couldn’t change the past.

but it still hurt her knowing how much she had failed as a mother.

“we can discuss this later.” jennie’s voice was firm, her words cutting through the noise around them as she reached for her daughter’s arm, pulling her closer. the chaos of the club, the loud music, and the flashing lights all faded into the background as her focus narrowed to one thing: getting ivory out of there before things got worse.

her eyes scanned the crowd around them, trying to find that camera from earlier. but ivory quickly pulled away, her eyes flashing with anger. “no! i’m not leaving just because you say so.” her voice was defiant, sharp with the kind of stubbornness that jennie recognized all too well.

it was like looking into a mirror of her younger self.

“you will leave. now. let’s go.” the older kim hissed in an icy tone, already getting near the end of her rope. “if that video gets around—”

“let them!” ivory snapped, cutting her mother off. “i don’t care what people think! and i could care less about your reputation.”

finally, her mother felt her frustration boil over at her daughter's dismissive attitude. “you think this is about my reputation?” she demanded, her voice rising in the crowded club, drawing unwanted attention. “this is about you, ivory! about your future! do you have any idea how damaging this could be?”

jane crossed her arms defiantly, her expression a mix of anger and stubbornness. “just because you couldn’t handle it doesn’t mean i can’t!” the words flew out of her mouth before she could think them through, fueled by a rush of adrenaline and resentment.

“really? you want to live your life? like this?” jennie gestured around them at the throng of partygoers, the flashing lights, and the chaos that felt so far removed from what she envisioned for her daughter. “you think this is living?”

but jane was done listening. she pulled away, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd for a way to escape. “i’m not going anywhere with you. you always think you know what’s best, but you don’t. you’re just scared, and you’re trying to make me scared too.”

jennie noticed a few heads turning toward them, whispers circulating through the crowd. people had started to gather, a few phones in hand, potentially recording their fight. panic surged through jennie, urging her to act.

“please, valentine, let’s just go,” jennie pleaded, her voice lowering in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “we can talk about this later. just come with me—”

“no!” ivory shouted again, her voice ringing out against the booming music. “i don’t care what you say. i’m staying, and you can’t force me to leave. maybe i’ll stay right here and let them all see what a bad mother you are!”

the weight of her words felt like a slap, and jennie closed her eyes for a brief moment, willing herself to stay calm. jennie knew she was a bad mother, it was something she had come to accept years ago. hearing it from her own daughter didn’t make it hurt any less, though.

“honey, you’re not thinking clearly. we can’t have this fight here, not like this. please.”

but her daughter shook her head vehemently, a sense of defiance boiling over as she threw her arms up in frustration. maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the years of pent up emotions finally boiling through the surface. either way, the angry soul in front of jennie looked nothing like her daughter.

and for the first time in 18 years, jennie felt as if she was looking in a mirror. except it wasn’t her own reflection, it was his.

“i wish i was never your daughter.” ivory spat, her voice loud enough to make heads turn. the crowd around them murmured, and jennie felt a knot form in her stomach. “so stop acting like my mom because we both know you don’t deserve that title.”

time seemed to freeze as ivory’s declaration reverberated in jennie’s ears, the world around them fading into the background. for a moment, all jennie could see was the hurt radiating from her daughter, and for the first time, she recognized the echo of her own past mistakes in ivory’s anger.

“you don’t mean it.” her mother immediately replied, eyes steeled and hardened against any more words her daughter would throw at her face. but ivory’s face twisted with raw emotion, and her voice was firm. her chest rose and fell harshly, clearly still worked up with emotion. before she brushed past her mother, snapping one final time at her before disappearing into the crowd.

“leave. me. alone.”

—

the video went viral in less than 24 hours. media outlets spread and circulated rumors and interpretations of it in every country and every language. everyone was asking the same thing: is jennie kim a mother?

jennie’s heart raced as her management team formed a protective barrier around her, pushing her toward the gate amidst the chaos. reporters shouted questions from all directions, their cameras flashing like strobe lights.

“jennie! is it true you have a daughter?” one reporter yelled, shoving a microphone in her face. “can you confirm the fight from last night?” another pressed, the crowd surging closer. “where is ivory?” a voice cut through the noise, and jennie felt her stomach drop. the constant barrage of questions felt like an insurmountable weight, pressing down on her while she fought to keep her composure.

jennie could feel panic setting in quickly as she tried to keep moving forward. she could see the gate ahead, but the closer she got, the more overwhelming the situation became. her team urged her on, their voices calm yet insistent, “keep moving, jennie. just keep walking.”

but her thoughts were racing in a different direction. where was ivory? the panic clawed at her insides as she scanned the crowd, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of her daughter’s familiar figure. each face in the throng blurred together, and the noise grew deafening.

“miss kim, please! can you comment on the video?”

“is it true you’re estranged from your daughter?”

“jennie, do your members know about any of this?”

she felt like she was suffocating, each question a reminder of the distance that had grown between her and ivory. “i can’t—i have to go back!” she managed to shout, but her management was relentless, practically pushing her through the throng as the gate loomed closer.

“no! we’re almost there,” one of her managers urged, keeping his hand firmly on her back. but with every step, the weight of worry grew heavier, anchoring her down. she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was abandoning her daughter, leaving her behind in a city that felt so foreign and chaotic.

“come on, just a few more steps!” another voice chimed in, but all she could think about was how she hadn’t been there for ivory when it mattered most.

they finally reached the gate, and as her team ushered her through the boarding process, she felt a swell of frustration. she wanted to turn back, to break free and search for ivory. but as they pushed her into the plane, she realized she was trapped—both physically and emotionally.

the flight attendants closed the door behind her, and as she settled into her seat, jennie buried her face in her hands, a wave of despair crashing over her. she felt completely helpless, torn between the world’s scrutiny and her desperate need to find her daughter.

however, what jennie kim didn’t know was that ivory had taken an earlier flight right after leaving her mother in the club. and what the older idol also didn’t know was the mob waiting to crucify her daughter once she touched down in seoul.

—

ivory stood frozen, panic rising like a tide as the crowd surged forward. shouts and jeers rained down, and it felt as if the world had conspired against her. “holy shit,” the teenager muttered under her breath, pulling her cap below her eyes even further. it looked like a light show with how many cameras were going off.

“form a wall!” one of her managers shouted, urgency lacing their voice. they quickly moved to surround her, creating a protective barrier against the hostile crowd. the team linked arms, shielding ivory from the hateful words and agitated crowd that sought to tear her down.

“back off! give her space!” another manager yelled, pushing back against the onslaught of reporters and fans. the team worked in unison, their presence a solid wall that blocked the chaos, but jane could still hear the shouts cutting through the air.

“why are you hiding behind your mother’s fame?” someone yelled, and it pierced through the clamor, sinking into ivory's chest like a dagger. “fucking brat, you don’t deserve jennie as a mother!”

with her heart racing and breath coming in jagged gasps, ivory felt the walls of her makeshift fortress closing in around her. the air felt heavy, and the shouting, combined with the crushing pressure of the crowd, sent her spiraling further into panic. the team’s efforts to protect her felt futile against the overwhelming tide of animosity.

“i can’t breathe,” she thought to herself, struggling against the tightness in her chest. she dug her nails into her palms, trying to steady herself as her management continued to shout for order. but their voices faded into a blur, the crowd's noise morphing into a deafening roar.

a few objects went flying over her head, thankfully missing her as the management team tightened their formation, creating a more impenetrable barrier around her. ivory’s heart raced as she felt the tension in the air escalate, the crowd growing more volatile with each passing moment. the sound of her own heartbeat pounded in her ears, drowning out everything else.

“i can’t do this,” she thought again, feeling utterly lost. the noise felt like it was suffocating her, each shout morphing into a mocking echo of her own insecurities. “why did i do that?”

as the objects continued to sail over her head, she flinched at the sound of something glass shattering nearby. the world felt chaotic and terrifying, and in that moment, the isolation of her panic attack set in. it was as if a spotlight was focused solely on her, and every eye in the crowd bore witness to her unraveling.

“stay with us, ivory! you’re okay!” one of her managers urged, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder, grounding her in reality. their presence was a lifeline, but the overwhelming emotions were threatening to pull her under again.

she wanted to scream, to lash out and throw things back at the reporters and people who tried to harm her. instead, she forced herself to breathe, to take in small gasps of air that felt sharp and painful against her chest. “just breathe, just breathe,” she repeated in her mind, willing herself to find some semblance of calm.

but the crowd wasn’t done. “is jennie your mother? are you ashamed of her?” came another shout, and ivory’s heart sank further. she felt the weight of that question, an accusation that cut deeper than any object thrown her way.

did they think she was ashamed? did they think she wanted this?

tears streamed down her cheeks as she wrestled with the conflicting emotions inside her. it wasn’t shame she felt, but anger at how everything had spiraled out of control. she was overwhelmed, and she wanted nothing more than to disappear.

and whether or not she wanted to admit it or not, part of her even wanted her mother.

“listen to me, ivory! focus on my voice!” another manager shouted, pushing through the chaos to keep her attention. the urgency in their tone cut through her panic, grounding her even more. “there’s the door right there. the car is already out front!”

the brunette nodded, though the tears continued to flow as they began to guide her toward the exit. the crowd was still shouting, a cacophony of harsh words and intrusive questions. she felt a wave of shame wash over her, but she forced herself to keep moving, her management creating a protective wall around her as they rushed toward the car.

as soon as they reached the vehicle, her body sagged against the cool metal of the door, and she let out a shaky breath. the moment they closed the door behind her, the noise from the outside world faded to a muffled echo, leaving only the sound of her own ragged breathing.

but the reprieve was short-lived. as soon as the car pulled away, the floodgates opened. the panic that had held her captive in the airport spilled over, and ivory broke down, sobs wracking her body. the emotional turmoil she had bottled up exploded in a torrent of grief, regret, and frustration.

and a few short hours later, once jennie touched down in korea, she felt a different type of anger and pain watching the videos of her daughter’s arrival. the phone shook in her hand, her free one holding her pant leg in a vice-like grip. with knuckles of ivory, she immediately called her company while waiting to be let off the plane. the dial tone rang for a few seconds before the other line picked up.

"sue them all. every single one of them."

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CLOSED.

#jennie kim #blackpink #lesserafim #angst #kpop angst #original series #jisoo kim #roseanne park #lalisa manoban #kim chaewon #ivory #perfectsunlight

132 notes · View notes

writingmeraki · 3 hours

Text

unsaid, unkept, ugly emotions [ i ]

⤷ ( f1 scenarios ! )

❝ in which, the uglier side of feeling too much getting more messier than it already is for both parties involved.

(or in which for different reasons, it just seems you aren't meant to be.)

feat. charles leclerc, carlos sainz, lando norris, oscar piastri. genre : angst, no comfort. ( for now ) warnings : cussing, messy, contemplation, arguments, miserable people, miscommunication, everyone gets hurt, a lot of unspoken feelings, like emphasis on that you may get annoyed.

pt 2 will include max, daniel, lewis and george !

[ w.c : 3.1k ]

CHARLES LECLERC.

He was off limits.

From the moment you knew your best friend, Alisa, had a crush on him, he was not supposed to ever be in your radar of romantic boundaries as per the rules of being a best friend.

Seeing her going crazy for a boy like him at first really made you question if there was something wrong with you because you just couldn’t quite see it.

Sure he quite literally looked like a prince and had a very fitting accent.

Sure he had adorable dimples that made him look less intimidating than you thought he initially was.

Eyes so green you think you could spot an entire forest in them and they twinkled ever so brightly when the sun hit them.

Sure he was also the frat president as well as the captain of the soccer team making you wonder how he was able to still balance getting great grades.

Well. There was a slight possibility you could see what others saw.

Maybe even more when the time you tried to play wingman for Alisa at a party where you lost her because apparently she was looking for him but said guy turned up right beside you as you were contemplating on what would least likely not kill your liver if you had it resulting in having conversations about cars ( you don’t even know ) and him trying to convince (gaslight) you into Formula One being one of the greatest sports of all time.

You didn’t get convinced but for the time it felt right to agree to what he said if it meant those adorable dimples would show up when you did.

You were so screwed.

Another thing Charles Leclerc had was a great memory, because he seemed to remember you when he saw you walking down the hallway with Alisa as he smiled so widely at you in greeting.

“Haha yeah hey! um…This is Alisa by the way! Alisa, Charles.” You had to nudge her to snap out of her daze and she extended her hand in greeting as he politely shook her hand.

“That reminds me, I forgot to ask you last night but uh can I have your-”

“Oh would you look at that! We’re getting late for class! I’m so sorry Charles, we’ll have to leave!”

That moment you think you were so going to hell when you saw how quickly his smile fell and how his sparkly eyes dimmed down because it felt like you committed a sin then and there. You think you saved yourself from committing a sin but it didn’t feel less dreadful as you grabbed her hand and rushed as quickly as you could.

In the opposite direction of where your class was.

“WHAT WAS THAT-”

“Listen- when you were looking for him last night- I swear I don’t know how but he was right where I ended up sitting and he-well, we talked I suppose-?”

Her eyes widened at your words and you raised your hands in surrender,

“I promise I didn’t even know when he showed up, I tried to message you and even find you but you seemed gone until the moment we were leaving.”

“Plus the reason I didn’t tell you last night was I was tired! I was here trying to play wingman while the person in love was seemingly gone-”

She sighed and nodded at you, “You don’t have to explain, I know he’s not your type, you made that clear a lot of times actually it’s kinda hilarious.” She giggled as she recalled the countless times you chastised her for daydreaming about him. But now, you couldn’t stop the stupid tinge of bitterness in your heart.

Right. Not my type.

Suddenly her eyes widened as an idea struck her, “That’s it! He was gonna ask for your number right? You can try and set me up then!”

“I well- I don’t know-”

“Please! You know how I have been trying to get to know him even.”

You didn’t want to say it then but you thought about how trying meant actually doing something rather than just gazing from afar. At least become friends with him was the words you told her countless times but she paid no heed, retorting how it was not that easy.

But it was easy because what’s the worst that could happen? Him having a partner? So it wasn’t the end of the world, others existed!

Too bad you were easy to persuade, questionably easy because all it took were her doe eyes pleading at you to agree.

“Fine- I’ll try- but no promises.”

As she hugged you and squealed words of gratefulness to you, you couldn’t quite put a finger on it then but,

You didn’t understand why it felt a part of you couldn’t seem to share the same happiness, conceivably a lingering dread there that knew something was surely going to go wrong.

CARLOS SAINZ.

Everytime Carlos Sainz had the ever so unfortunate ( according to him ) time to exist in the same room as you, it seemed like an impending doom for him.

His heart felt weird, his stomach dropped, his throat parched.

He hated it.

He was an individual who knew what they wanted in life. Never unsure nor second guessing, always able to classify their emotions in proper ways. Systematic is the right word. Able to know what exactly he wants to do in his career, how to behave with his friends, when to be serious and when to have ‘fun’.

So what happens when you completely throw him off the rocks with your mere existence?

He hates you. That’s how he tags the emotions he feels when he sees you and what does hatred sprout? Indifference.

Too many questions asked but it’s what Carlos declares.

Though, he thinks the first mistake is to think he’d be able to avoid you considering the fact that you were his best friend/roommate’s good friend. Meaning you spent around twenty to twenty two hours at their place (Yes he counted) and he absolutely hated it.

He hated how your giggles would ring out in the entire apartment when Charles said a half-assed joke, it literally made his chest feel uneasy. He hated how your eyes would always twinkle when you would be talking to Charles, it made his stomach drop and sigh in disbelief.

Was Charles that oblivious to how much you liked him?

Now this was a question that made Carlos almost throw up. Odd.

“You know if you don’t make a move, he won’t even know right? I know you think he’s one of the smartest but in the romance field, I think even fucking Max beats him at that!”

Or perhaps Carlos was just very oblivious to how much you liked him.

You shook your head at Charles’ words as you both walked up to his apartment, the butterflies in your stomach already churning at the thought that Carlos was likely home.

“And also it’s getting concerning how much time you spend in my apartment for the sake of him, like at this point just move in you creep—HEY!Ow!— that hurt you ass!”

“It’s not that easy,he’s – he’s Carlos–for God’s sake!”

“That’s exactly why it’s easy! It’s Carlos! Be direct with him. I’ve known him for years and trust me, he won’t know until you spit it out to him!”

Maybe…maybe he was right. Afterall he had been friends with Carlos before even knowing you.

“What if he doesn’t even feel the same–”

“Be serious. He literally looks like a lovesick fool when you’re over–”

“Maybe he’s just sick of me coming over.”

Charles stopped walking and you didn’t even realize until you were a few steps ahead. Pausing when you finally saw he wasn’t beside you.

His expression was like he was close to ripping out his hair from frustration while also being flabbergasted. It was kinda hilarious and you had to gulp to prevent laughing because you were sure he might just kill you.

“Okay! Okay, fine– I'll listen to you– maybe not confess today! But I'll ask if we can hangout or something,happy?”

“Very.”

You rolled your eyes at his words as you both began climbing up the stairs, telling him to shush with his teasing as the tips of your ears began to feel warm and the blood rushed to your cheeks with every scenario you imagined.

Maybe if you thought that the upcoming scenario would ever occur. it would have hurt less.

As you waited for him to pull out his keys, you could feel your nerves igniting through your skin and your stomach churning. But before he could insert the key, the door opened.

You wouldn’t have questioned anything, if it weren’t for the obvious messy hair, hickey marks trailing down her exposed neck and of course, the star of your daydreams right behind her, standing with a surprised face.

It was obvious what had occurred, the confirmation lying in the bruises on his neck.

“Woah–uh.” Charles stuttered awkwardly, and you could feel his sympathy as he glanced at you. You couldn’t think of anything else other than how…right you were and how wrong Charles was.

You didn’t know who she was but it wasn’t her fault. Or anyone’s. Maybe yours. So as a weird tension simmered through the air, you looked away from them and just turned to Charles.

And for the first time in his life probably, he was lost. Carlos Sainz was lost because why did he just feel like he committed a crime when he wasn’t even yours anyways?

He hated the way you looked away, not missing the hurt that flashed across your eyes as you realized what he probably was doing.

You didn’t even notice she’d already left, smiling at Carlos and signing him to call her back, again. Probably not the first time, you thought.

“Uh- I’ll go now, It’s getting late for me anyways,”

You really tried to stop your voice from cracking, the lump in your throat making you want to choke and die then and there. So you just looked at Charles, purposefully ignoring the way he looked at you in sympathy.

His stare seemed to burn into your side profile. The words on the tip of his tongue, but what? It all felt like a lot but nothing at the same time. Carlos didn’t know what to say.

Nodding goodbye to Charles and glancing at Carlos, offering a tight lipped smile as you waved, and then without saying anything you turned around.

Charles frowned. His best friend couldn’t own up to his feelings for you and just when you were about to take a step forward, he somehow ended up fucking it up completely.

What a mess.

“Come on, we need to talk.”

Charles said seriously, putting an arm over Carlos’ shoulders, albeit a little forcefully which caused the other boy to almost stumble over.

It seemed it was now up to him now to sort out this mess and hopefully it doesn’t get worse from here

LANDO NORRIS.

Lando and you were fire and water. Milk and lemons. Politicians and caring for the country’s people- Okay too far perhaps and enough of these metaphors of incompatibility to get a point.

You were sworn enemies. Despised each other in the true forms of hate. You hated him so much for the emotions he rose in you that you couldn’t stand him ruining another poor innocent soul with his devious eyes and cunning smile.

Which was exactly what he was doing with the girl wrapped around his left arm, additionally whispering probably lame jokes that made her giggle as though they were the funniest thing on earth.

Lana Carter was her name, you knew her as a cheerleader due to seeing her during your games and also being somewhat acquainted because as a captain, it was apparently in your duty to know everyone, especially those involved in the sports sector of your university.

You wish you could cross off knowing Lando but alas, him being the captain of the basketball team and the apparent star as well didn’t help in your case.

“I smell something burning and oh! Would you look at that! It’s an ugly green color too!” Alexa said as she smirked at you, pretending to take a sip of her drink when you directed your glare at her.

“Fuck. You.”

“You wish-”

“Oh! Hey cap!” A voice said before you could retort to Alexa you turned to see Oscar smiling at you in greeting. You knew him, of course you knew all of Lando’s little friend group. You frowned at him eyeing him in suspicion. He was Lando’s best friend after all.

“Why the frown?” Alexa snorted as he asked you,his attention going to your best friend before she pointed at him and it was as if he understood and nodded.

“Ohhh, I see what’s the matter now.”

“Someone’s” Coughing very fakely, he added, “Jealous.”

Shutting your eyes, you looked at him with a glare enough to make him shut up on his own but still you added,

“Say that again and I’ll-”

“Already giving death threats huh? Maybe you should really go check up on that stick up your ass.” Of fucking course, now is when he decided to show up.

As though his eyes had not been searching for you the moment he stepped in the party. As though he hadn’t noticed you the moment you did. As though it wasn’t just an elaborate plan to rile you up.

You looked at him and fuck. Fuck he made you so angry with how fucking good he looked despite the conditions of the party. His messy hair and bright eyes being lit up by the colourful lights and even though the lighting was horrible, he somehow looked…so fine and of course the darn smirk on his face.

“Norris. How nice of you to show up! Just the person I was waiting for!” Your sarcasm could be sensed by those around, Alexa’s attempt at hiding her snort and Oscar’s brows raised not going unnoticed. They looked at each other briefly and a knowing look was exchanged.

Here we go again.

“Aw you were waiting for me darling? Hope I wasn’t too late, just got a little busy you see?”

“Clearly.” You said before thinking, the scowl on your face was visible and the smugness on his face only grew larger.

“Not fond of me with someone else?” You didn’t even notice how both Oscar and Alexa had left, seemingly only Lando and you, in the midst of drunk teenagers and perhaps lovesick ones, perhaps loners.

He got closer, closer that made you clench your hands that hung on your sides, leaning down.

“Not fond of me with anyone but you?”

It was as though his voice put you in a trance, or maybe it was how his warm breath tickled your neck. And for the first time in a while you thought of what he said, deeper than you would have ever.

You weren’t sure if you liked the answer. Or what it exactly implied too.

“Stay in your limits Norris. Don’t fucking- don’t play this shit with me.” You pushed him away as harshly as you could, even if it felt like your hands burned when you thought of what you did. Purposefully ignoring the look in his eyes. Visible hurt and a frown on his face, you turned around, having enough.

“Don’t come after me. Stay with Lana or whoever, I don’t fucking care.” You don’t know why you said the last sentence. You also don’t want to know why it felt bitter saying it.

With that, you began to walk out, gulping the fresh air that was much needed after being in that suffocating place, suffocating feelings.

As you shut your eyes, you gulped thinking of what you were doing. Why were you so pissed off?

And maybe you realized, you needed to check on the line that was drawn between Lando and you. Perhaps it’s become too blurry to distinguish it from hatred and love.

OSCAR PIASTRI.

Oscar glowed like the moon solely rose up to soak in his light, like the stars twinkled off his radiance.

Maybe,you just got too close to the sun, enchanted with its brightness, to not realize just how much it could burn you.

He was your sun.

No actually the sun, stars, moon whatever celestial body existed perhaps dimmed down compared to him.

You think it messed you up completely when you kissed him in that truth or dare game surrounded by your mutual friends. You think about the stolen kisses, never more, just kisses in between the times you’d pass by in the hallways, pulling him in a cramped space and leaving with flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

Simply put, you were addicted to him. To the way he made you feel. To the way he made you tingle when he kissed you so gently.

You didn’t want to address the elephant in the room. Or in this case,

What were you two?

Lando asked when you were sitting down in the same circle, just like the first time you’d kissed each other, with the same people.

You hesitated and then said, uncharacteristically enthusiasm lacing your voice,

“Friends of course! Don't be ridiculous Lan.”

You didn’t like that word, and it seemed he didn’t either as he looked away, gulping in distaste and a scoff on his face that was usually unnatural for the sunshine like a boy.

Seemingly going unnoticed by you but Lando who asked the question noticed and glanced back at you to see if you noticed. He sighed when he saw you not looking at Oscar but raised an eyebrow as he saw you in a dilemma.

Right. Friends. Friends who kiss. But still friends…friends?

You tried convincing yourself the rest of that day that adding a label would ruin things. It always does. You should enjoy it while you can, right? It was all in fun?

So why did you feel terribly down when Oscar refused to talk to you for the rest of the day?

“Os?” You asked gently and he sighed exhaustingly as he looked at you,

“Please, please don’t…don’t call me that.”

The look of hurt on your face made him hate himself more because why would anyone like to hurt someone they loved?

Before you opened your mouth to speak, he continued,

“I don't think I can do this anymore, this…whatever this is. I am…sorry.”

And without a chance to ask more questions or give any answers, he turned around and walked away.

This was your fault. You hurt him because you couldn’t admit it to yourself that you…that you loved him.

You loved him more than the universe, you loved him since the day you saw him. You were just scared you'll lose him like the way you lose all your loved ones. You were scared of risks. You were…a coward.

And now it seemed, it was too late to do anything about it.

a/n : if you have read this before somewhere, it's my own work of svt ( 1 and 2 ) which i have re-written to fit these boys <3 i just thought they would also fit them too and well...let me know what you think ^^

the rest will be uploaded too because i think i will be writing a new one for the others as i don't know if they would fit into the written ones :") pls let me know what you thought of this!!! ( also i cannot make oscar evil or the heartbreaker i just cantt </3 and i know the irony of charles being a soccer captain and well how he plays lmfaoo i just let it be for shits and giggles <3)

i am opening reqs for f1 and taglist for this so let me know if you want to be added cause I do have a lot more planned !

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

feedback is always appreciated 💌 ! links : main navi ! | f1 masterlist ! | info !

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earthtoharlow · 1 day

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Don’t Like The Lights

Sequel to Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights first to understand

Series Masterlist

16. March 14th

It was late and Maryse was exhausted, lying in bed next to Jack. She shifted under the covers and looked over at him before sighing, seeing him sleeping peacefully. The twins had been particularly active that night, kicking and moving making it hard to get in a comfortable position. At this point she was going to sign them up at Mockingbird Valley as soon as they were born.

She rubbed her belly, feeling another kick, but this time something was different. A sharp pain shot through her abdomen, taking her breath away. At first, she thought it was just the babies being active again, but as the pain grew stronger, she realized this wasn’t just kicking..

Maryse reached for Jack, who was still snoring next to her. “Babe…Jack…I think it’s happening,” she said as she started shaking him awake.

Jack sat up immediately, now wide awake. “What? You aren’t due for another few weeks!”

Tears welled up in her eyes as the pain intensified. “I know…it’s too early.” She whispered loudly, starting to panic. “It’s too soon, they’re not ready!”

Jack quickly got out of the bed, throwing on sweat sweatpants and a hoodie. Reaching for the hospital bag they had prepared weeks ago. “Hey, it’s okay. Let’s just get you to the hospital.”

Tears rolled down Maryse’s cheeks as she shook her head. “But what if something goes wrong? I’m not ready, I’m—”

“We got this,” Jack interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re strong, and our babies are going to be just fine. You’ve been carrying them for months, and they’re ready to meet us.”

She nodded weakly, still scared, but his words settled some of the fear bubbling inside her. “Okay,” she whispered, letting him help her toward the car.

With a reassuring squeeze of her hand, Jack said, “Let’s go meet our babies.”

As they sped through the dark streets, the hospital still a few miles away, Jack kept one hand on the wheel and the other resting gently on Maryse’s thigh. She was gripping her belly, her breathing controlled but strained as another contraction came and went. The tension in the car was intense and Jack wanted to lighten it up.

With a slight grin, he glanced over at her, his voice playful. “You know… if we time this right, they’ll probably end up being born the day after me.” His birthday was a few short hours ago as it was now past midnight.

Maryse, between deep breaths, shot him a tired but amused look. “You seriously think you’re that lucky?”

He chuckled, turning his attention back to the road for a second before looking at her again. “Hey, I’m just saying… twins love a grand entrance. They want their own day but close enough to remind everyone who their dad is.”

Her eyes fluttered shut as she braced through another contraction, and for a moment, he thought maybe his light-hearted joke wasn’t working. But as the pain lessened, she turned to him with a small smirk. “Let’s just hope they’re not as dramatic as their dad.”

He laughed softly, the sound a brief comfort in the intensity of the moment. “I don’t know about that. If they’ve got even half of your fire, we’re in for it.”

When they finally arrived, the doctors confirmed that she was indeed in labor but only three centimeters dilated. “You’ve got some hours to go,” the nurse with a sympathetic smile, helping her adjust the bed for comfort.

As Maryse tried to focus on her breathing, Jack sat beside her, tapping his fingers on the bedside table. At first, it was a soft rhythm, something to distract himself from the nerves, but it soon became obvious he was making a beat out of the rhythm of her breathing.

Maryse clenched her jaw, exhaling sharply. “If you don’t stop tapping,” she said through gritted teeth, “I’m going to get really mad.”

Jack froze mid-tap, eyes wide, then sheepishly pulled his hand away from the table. “Sorry, just trying to help,” he muttered, a crooked grin forming.

She shot him a look but then sighed, leaning back into her pillows. “Maybe help by not turning my labor into a mixtape.”

“Noted,” he said, settling back, a little quieter but still grinning.

In between contractions, Maryse looked up at Jack with a weak smile. “I’m hungry,” she whispered, her voice laced with exhaustion. “Can you get me something?”

Jack, eager to help, nodded quickly. “I got you,” he said, rushing out of the room.

A few minutes later, he returned, his arms overflowing with snacks—chips, candy, granola bars, a banana, even a couple of drinks. “I, uh… I wasn’t sure what you could have, so I just grabbed everything,” he admitted sheepishly, holding up the pile.

Maryse blinked at the assortment, then gave a small laugh despite the situation. “I can’t eat half of that, but I appreciate the effort.”

“Which one can you eat?” Jack asked, looking a little lost.

She pointed to the banana and granola bar. “Those will do. Thanks, baby.”

He handed them over, still looking concerned. “I’ll eat the rest,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood, but his eyes stayed glued to her, watching her every move with worry as she nibbled at the food between breaths.

“You should probably call your parents… and mine,” she said, in between bites

Jack hesitated, not wanting to leave her side for even a second, but nodded. “Okay, I’ll call them. But I’m not going far.”

Maryse squeezed his hand, appreciating his presence. “I know. Just… tell them it’s happening.”

Before Jack walked out the room Maryse stopped him. “Hey, babe?”

Jack turned around, “I love you, and so happy to be on this journey with you.”

She could see him getting emotional, Jack walked back and pressed a long kiss to her forehead, and then to her lips. “I love you more.”

“Yuck.” Maryse says with a grin before pushing him away. “Now, go call our parents and Urban so you can relax a bit.”

He kissed her forehead softly before stepping aside, pulling out his phone. “Hey, Mrs, Monet” he began quietly, trying to keep his voice calm, though the excitement and worry were palpable. “Sorry, Margot… It’s time. We’re at the hospital… yeah, for real this time.”

As he made the calls, Maryse breathed deeply, bracing herself for the next contraction. Knowing their families would be there soon brought her a bit of comfort. Even though things were happening faster than expected, she felt better with Jack by her side and their loved ones on the way.

Jack came back into the room after stepping out to make the call, his face slightly flushed from rushing back to her side. He took a seat next to Maryse, gently lifting her hand again.

“I just got off the phone with your parents,” he said, his voice calm. “They’re taking the next flight out from New York, but they probably won’t make it before the babies are born.”

Maryse let out a soft sigh, her face showing a mix of disappointment and anxiety. “I was hoping they’d be here in time.”

“I know, baby, but my mom and dad are on their way. They’ll be here soon,” he reassured her, squeezing her hand. “My mom’s gonna bring all the calm energy you need.”

She forced a smile through the pain, “Good. I need that right now.”

Jack leaned in and kissed her temple, his thumb gently rubbing her palm. “You’re doing amazing. Just a little longer, and we’ll have them here.”

She nodded, trying to focus on his words instead of the contractions. “You’re staying with me the whole time, right?”

“Of course. I’m not leaving your side,” he promised, his eyes steady on hers.

Maryse smiled and gave him a tired look, wincing as another contraction rolled through.

“Hey, Urban just got here. He’s in the waiting room.”

“Good. Maybe he can take some of your nervous energy because it’s making me nervous too.”

Jack chuckled, trying to play it cool but knowing she could read him better than anyone. “I’m not that nervous.”

She raised an eyebrow and let out a small huff, “Babe, I can see you tapping your foot like you’re working on a beat, again!”

He looked down, noticing his foot bouncing anxiously, and sheepishly smiled. “Alright, maybe I’m a little worked up.”

“Go tell him to come in here,” Maryse added, squeezing his hand, “Maybe he can calm you down.”

Jack nodded, standing up. “I’ll bring him in,” he said, giving her hand one last reassuring squeeze before heading out to get his friend.

When Maryse saw Urban walk in, holding his film camera with a mischievous grin, she narrowed her eyes at him. “You really brought a camera in here?”

Urban shrugged, still grinning. “Gotta document the moment, right?”

She let out a low groan as another contraction hit, her face scrunching up in pain. “I’m in way too much pain to yell at you right now… but trust me, I’ll make up for it later.”

Urban chuckled, holding up the camera defensively. “Hey, I’m just capturing memories.”

“I better appreciate these photos when this is all over,” she muttered, shifting uncomfortably as the pain intensified. “Because I swear, if I look like a mess in them, you’re gonna regret it.”

Jack chuckled, rubbing her back. “You’ll look amazing—“

Maryse gave him a tired side-eye. “Whatever.” But deep down, she knew she’d treasure the moments Urban was capturing.

Just as another wave of pain hit, Jack’s parents finally arrived. Maggie swept into the room, her eyes immediately going to Maryse, taking in her exhaustion. She wasted no time.

“You two,” she pointed at Jack and Urban, “go get some coffee. I can tell you’ve been getting on her nerves.”

Jack blinked in disbelief. “I haven’t! I’ve been—”

Maryse shot him a look, eyebrow raised. He fell silent, his argument dying before it began.

Maggie gave him a knowing smile. “Mmhmm. Go on. We’ll keep her company for a bit.”

Urban snickered, nudging Jack as they reluctantly headed for the door. “Told you she’d notice.”

Jack grumbled, glancing back at Maryse as she waved him off, already more relaxed with his mom by her side. “Yeah, yeah. We won’t be long,” he muttered, trying to salvage a little pride.

Maryse just smirked, leaning into his mom’s comforting presence as they left the room.

Maggie turned to Maryse with a gentle smile. “How are you doing, sweetheart? Feeling okay? I really hope he’s not driving you too crazy in here.”

She let out a tired chuckle, her body relaxing a bit now that the room was quieter. “Honestly, he’s been doing great. He’s just… really nervous, and it’s kind of rubbing off on me. But he’s been sweet.”

She nodded, her eyes soft with understanding. “He gets that way when he cares a lot. I’m so happy for you two. This is such an exciting time.”

Maryse smiled, her eyes tearing up a little. “Thanks… I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

His mom leaned over, squeezing her hand. “You’re going to be amazing parents. Both of you.”

That reassurance settled something in Maryse, the warmth of it wrapping around her like a blanket.

A few minutes later, Jack popped his head back into the room, grinning like a kid caught sneaking candy. “Can I come back in now? I miss you,” he said, eyes soft as they landed on Maryse.

She rolled her eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “You’re so cheesy,” she muttered, but the warmth in her voice gave her away. No matter how much she pretended to be annoyed, that sweetness was exactly what she needed right now.

His mom laughed, patting his shoulder as she passed him on her way out. “Alright, you two, I’ll let you have your moment.”

Jack quickly walked over to her bedside, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I can’t help it,” he said softly. “I love you.”

Maryse rolled her eyes again, but this time, she smiled wide. “Ew. You really do.”

Before he could respond, her face scrunched in discomfort. She gripped Jack’s hand tightly, her voice shaking. “Get the doctor or nurse, please,” she urged, barely able to keep her breath steady.

Jack’s eyes widened with concern as he quickly stood up, rushing to the door and calling for help. A nurse hurried in within moments, checking Maryse over before nodding. “It’s time. You’re ready to push.”

Panic mixed with excitement flashed across Jack’s face as the room suddenly buzzed with activity. The nurses quickly started prepping everything while another handed him a set of scrubs. “We need to get you into these now,” she instructed.

Jack fumbled with the clothes, his hands shaking as he tried to put them on. He glanced back at Maryse, who was focused on breathing through the pain. He could tell she was terrified, but there was no time to dwell on that now. He had to be there for her.

“You got this, baby,” he called out, though his own nerves were showing. He finally got dressed and rushed back to her side, ready to hold her hand through what was about to happen.

Maryse gave him a tired but determined look. “You better be right here the whole time,” she said between breaths.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, squeezing her hand as the doctor arrived.

The doctor stood at the foot of the bed, ready for the arrival of their twins. “Alright, Mrs. Harlow, it’s time to push. Give me a big one,” the doctor said, voice calm yet firm.

Maryse didn’t even register being called “Mrs. Harlow,” too focused on the overwhelming pressure and pain. Her entire body trembled as she braced herself, gripping Jack’s hand so tightly that he winced, but he didn’t dare complain.

“You’re doing amazing, babe,” Jack encouraged, his voice soft but steady. “Just breathe. I’m right here. You’ve got this.”

With a final push, their son was born. His tiny cry pierced the air almost immediately, bringing both of them to tears. “It’s a boy!” the doctor announced, but before they could fully process it, the doctor encouraged her to push again. “One more, you’re doing great!”

But before she could catch her breath, the next contraction hit, signaling it was time for their second baby. “You’re almost there,” Jack reassured her. “One more. You can do this.”

She bore down, pushing with all her strength. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and the room seemed to fade around her, everything focusing on the task at hand. She groaned with the effort, her face contorting in pain, but she didn’t stop. The sound of the doctor’s calm instructions blended with Jack’s reassuring words, both keeping her going.

Jack leaned in, kissing the side of her forehead, his heart racing as much as hers. “Just a little more, baby, you’re almost done.”

Maryse screamed as she gave one last push, The doctor held her up, but the room fell into an eerie silence—she didn't cry

Her heart dropped. She looked over at Jack, panic in her eyes, and she squeezed his hand even tighter. “Why isn’t she crying? What’s wrong?”

Jack’s face paled, his eyes glued to their baby. “Come on, baby girl,” he whispered under his breath, his voice trembling. “Come on.”

The seconds felt like hours. The nurses quickly began rubbing her back, gently stimulating her, and finally, after what felt like an eternity, the sweetest sound filled the room—a tiny, soft cry.

Both Maryse and Jack let out a breath they didn’t realize they were holding, tears streaming down their faces. “She’s okay,” the doctor reassured them, “Sometimes it just takes them a minute.”

Jack’s legs almost gave out from the relief as he leaned over to kiss Maryse's forehead. “She’s okay,” he whispered, voice cracking. “They’re both okay.”

Once the nurses had cleaned the babies, they gently placed one in each of their arms. Maryse cradled the first twin, their son, while Jack held their daughter, his face lit with awe. The room was quieter now, the cries subsiding into soft coos, and the nurses hovered nearby, curious as they asked the question.

“So, what are their names?” one nurse asked, a smile on her face.

Maryse looked up at Jack, her heart swelling. This was the moment they’d talked about, dreamed about. She shifted her gaze back down to the tiny face in her arms, brushing a finger softly across her son’s cheek.

“Noah Thomas,” she said softly, pride and emotion lacing her voice.

Jack smiled, glancing down at their daughter, who was already settling in his arms like she knew she belonged there. “And this little one is London Paige,” he added, his voice full of warmth.

The nurses beamed. “Beautiful names,” one of them said, making a note on the clipboard.

As they looked down at their children, Maryse and Jack exchanged a glance, both overwhelmed by the love and responsibility that had just entered their lives. Noah, with his tiny features that mirrored Maryse, and London, with her resemblance to Jack, made the moment feel even more surreal.

“They’re perfect,” Jack whispered, leaning in to kiss Maryse's forehead again, unable to tear his eyes away from their babies.

Maryse smiled tiredly. “Yeah, they really are.”

The nurses gently took Noah and London to the adjoining station to check their vitals, Jack turned his full attention to Maryse. He leaned closer, cupping her face in his hands, brushing his lips against her forehead, her cheeks, and finally planting soft kisses all over her face.

“I’m so happy right now,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You did amazing, babe. I can’t believe we just brought two beautiful babies into the world.”

Maryse laughed lightly, still feeling a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with tears of happiness. “You were right there with me the whole time.”

Jack nodded, his eyes shining. “And I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. You’re incredible.” He paused, watching her with a tenderness that made her heart swell.

“I can’t believe we’re parents now.”

“Right? We are really doing this,” he replied, grinning ear to ear, his voice filled with excitement.

Just then, the nurses returned with the twins, both of them sleeping peacefully in their tiny blankets. “They’re doing great!” one of the nurses announced, beaming at the new parents. “Everything looks perfect.”

Jack’s eyes lit up as they approached, and he turned back to Maryse. “Look at them,” he said, pride swelling in his chest. “We made those little miracles.”

Maryse couldn’t help but smile as she watched him fall into that instant connection with their children. “They’re our world now,” she said softly.

She leaned back against the hospital pillow, she couldn’t help but smile at Jack, who stood by the bassinet, completely mesmerized by the tiny babies they had just brought into the world. She watched him, his eyes wide and full of love, and felt a warmth spread through her chest. All the pain and stress they had just endured felt like a distant memory. Before the exhaustion pulled her under, her mind wandered back to the whirlwind of the past year.

From the dizzying heights of success with her music career to the unexpected news of her pregnancy, it had all felt like a beautiful, chaotic dream.

Their late-night talks, the way he made her laugh when she was feeling down, and the countless times he had gently reminded her of her strength—it all played like a montage in her mind. The stalker incident, the Super Bowl performance, and the challenges of preparing for two little ones felt like a lifetime ago. Yet here they were, parents of two, ready to take on whatever came next.

She glanced at Jack again, who was still transfixed by the babies, his expression a mix of awe and pride. That sight filled her with warmth, and as her eyelids grew heavier, she felt a sense of gratitude wash over her. They had fought through it all together, and now, with their family finally complete, she knew they could handle anything.

***

AN: EVERYONE SCREAMMMMMM!!! Noah & London are hereeeeee ;) a day after Jack's birthday of course poor maryse haha please let me know what you think and if you like their names 🫶

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#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow reader #jack harlow concepts #jackman harlow #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow imagine #flashing lights

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solxamber · 19 hours

Text

Antinomy - Leo Kurosagi x reader

You and Leo have been at each other's throats for the past few years. So why does it feel so wrong when he shows up at your door bruised and bloody? aka the prompt: "I didn't know where else to go"

The knock is sharp, almost a thud, one that echoes through the room like the reverberation of some bad omen. It’s well past two in the morning, and nothing good ever comes from visitors at this hour. But still, curiosity gets the better of you, and you open the door with more force than you intend.

You freeze. It’s Leo.

He’s leaning against the doorframe, disheveled, one arm clutching his side. His usual smug demeanor is nowhere to be found; instead, his face is bruised, streaks of dried blood trailing from his nose. There’s a cut above his eyebrow, barely clotted, and his shirt is torn like it’s seen better days—like he’ seen better days. It’s probably the first time you’ve ever seen him so out of sorts.

“What the hell…” You can barely get the words out as he leans more heavily on the frame, gritting his teeth.

“Look,” he rasps, voice rougher than the usual annoyingly smug tone, “I didn’t know where else to go.”

You stare, unblinking, taking in the sight of him—your infamous rival, the bane of your existence, now standing battered and barely on his feet. A barrage of thoughts rush through your mind. The first: how the hell did he end up like this? The second: why is he here?

When you don’t immediately move or speak, Leo’s mouth curls into something resembling a smirk—though it’s weaker, a shadow of his usual arrogance. “Sho’s out of town… and as much as you love hating me… we both know you don’t hate me enough to leave me out here bleeding.”

Your jaw tightens at that. The nerve. But he’s right. Damn him, he’s always right when it comes to this—knowing just how far to push before you break.

“What did you do?” you finally snap, folding your arms, though it feels more like an attempt to shield yourself from whatever storm’s about to follow him inside.

“Picked the wrong fight,” he mutters. “Didn’t turn out quite the way I expected.”

“Clearly.” You look him up and down, incredulous. “And Alan? Why didn’t you just call Alan?”

A wince flashes across his face as he tries to straighten himself. “I'm already on thin ice with him. I'd rather not hear it from him right now.”

“You expect me to help you? You do realize who you’re talking to, right?” You bite out, though a part of you already knows you’ll cave. There’s something different about Leo tonight. Gone is the usual bravado, the mocking quips and cynical remarks. In their place, you see desperation—vulnerability. He wouldn’t have come here unless he really had no other option.

“Come on,” he breathes, his voice fraying at the edges. “As much as you’d love to see me suffer, you wouldn’t let me bleed out on your doorstep.”

You hate that he’s right. And you hate that some twisted part of you does care—more than you’re willing to admit, even now. With a sigh, you step back, allowing him entry.

“Fine,” you huff, “but don’t expect me to play nice.”

“I’d never expect that from you,” he says with a pained grin as he limps inside.

You close the door behind him, trying to ignore the pounding in your chest. You’re rivals—you hate him, really—and yet, here you are, letting him into your space, into your life when he’s at his weakest. It’s irrational. It’s stupid. But it’s Leo, and you’ve never been able to figure out why you care so much about someone who’s made your life extremely inconvenient for so long.

“Sit,” you order, motioning toward the couch.

He gives you a mock salute, then collapses onto the cushions with a groan, clutching his side tighter.

“What the hell happened to you?” You grab a first-aid kit from the kitchen, already mentally preparing yourself for a long night.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Leo mumbles, though the way he winces with every breath tells a different story. “Just got a little out of hand.”

“A little?” You raise an eyebrow, kneeling down in front of him to examine the damage. His knuckles are bloodied, the cut on his eyebrow still oozing slightly. His shirt’s soaked with sweat, and you can see the bruises spreading across his ribs. He looks like he’s been through a war.

Leo watches you with an unreadable expression as you start cleaning his wounds. “What’s with the concern, hmm? Thought you’d be celebrating right about now. Finally got me on my knees, and not in the way you imagined.”

You glare at him, pushing a bit harder on the wound than necessary. He hisses but doesn’t flinch. “Shut up, Leo. You’re lucky I don’t kick you while you’re down.”

He chuckles softly, though it’s strained. “You always had a mean streak.”

“Maybe I just hate you.”

His grin falters for a moment, something almost… hurt flickering in his eyes. “Yeah, maybe.”

There’s a beat of silence, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of you. You’ve patched him up as best you can and cleaned the wounds on his knuckles but they still looked raw and painful. But the tension in the air is thick, and neither of you seems willing to break it.

“You didn’t have to come here,” you murmur, sitting back on your heels, arms crossing over your chest again. “You could’ve gone to anyone. Your fans would’ve eaten this up. Why come to me?”

Leo’s gaze shifts to the floor. For the first time since you opened the door, he looks… unsure.

“I… I didn’t want them to see me like this,” he admits quietly, his usual cocky bravado nowhere to be found. “And Sho wasn’t around. You were the only one I thought of.”

Your heart skips a beat, though you fight to keep your expression neutral. “Why?”

“Because I knew you wouldn't let me bleed out,” he says, so softly you almost don’t hear it.

And there it is. The vulnerability beneath all the layers of arrogance and wit. The part of Leo you’ve only ever caught glimpses of. You’ve always known it was there, buried deep under his ego, but seeing it now, laid bare in front of you, feels… different.

“Dumbass,” you mutter, looking away. “You picked a fight, got yourself hurt, and now you’re here expecting me to fix it.”

“I don’t expect you to fix anything,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I just didn’t know where else to go.”

You take a deep breath, trying to rein in your frustration. He’s hurt, and despite all the history between you two—the constant bickering, the rivalry that’s lasted years—this is different. He came to you when he was at his lowest, and there’s something in that which makes your chest tighten.

You sit down beside him on the couch, careful to give him space but not too much. It’s a strange feeling, having Leo so close, especially like this—broken, vulnerable, his cocky grin now replaced by something far more human.

“Why do you always do this to yourself?” The words slip out before you can stop them, not exactly what you meant to say, but the only thing that comes to mind. “You pick fights you know you can’t win and rely on Sho to bail you out. What do you think will happen if he can’t make it in time?” You gesture toward his battered state. “And when he couldn’t, you showed up at my door?” Your voice trembles as you take a shuddering breath. “Do you expect me to pick up the pieces?”

Leo glances at you out of the corner of his eye, and for a second, you think he might laugh it off, make some snide remark like he usually does. But he doesn’t. Instead, he just sighs, leaning his head back against the cushions, eyes closing.

“I don’t know,” he admits quietly, and it catches you off guard. “Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment.”

You shake your head, frustration boiling beneath the surface. “That’s not an answer, Leo. You’re reckless. You put yourself in danger just for the thrill of it, and then what? You expect people to be there to bail you out?”

“I don’t expect anyone to do anything for me,” he says, his voice sharp, but there’s an edge of defeat in it. “Not even you.”

“Then why come here?” you press, anger rising. “Why not just go home and patch yourself up like you usually do?”

He opens his eyes, turning his head to look at you. There’s something raw in his gaze, something you’ve never seen before. It’s unsettling, like he’s letting you in, showing you a part of himself that he’s always kept hidden.

“Because I knew you’d actually care,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

And there it is again, that vulnerability, the crack in his armor. It’s the one thing you never expected from him, and it’s throwing you off balance. You don’t know how to respond, don’t know how to deal with Leo when he’s like this—so exposed, so… real.

You swallow hard, looking away. “You’re an idiot, Leo.”

“Yeah,” he mutters, leaning his head back again, closing his eyes. “I know.”

Silence falls between you, thick and uncomfortable, but also strangely intimate. You can hear his breathing, slow and steady now that he’s stopped trying to act tough. His hand rests on his lap, knuckles still raw from whatever fight he got himself into. Without thinking, you reach out, gently taking his hand in yours, inspecting the damage despite just cleaning it.

He doesn’t pull away.

“You could’ve died,” you say softly, the words almost getting caught in your throat. “And for what? A stupid fight?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, and when he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost pained. “Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if I had.”

Your heart stops. You turn to him, eyes wide, but he doesn’t look back at you. He keeps his gaze fixed on the ceiling, as if he’s afraid to meet your eyes.

“Leo…” you start, but you don’t know how to finish. You’ve never heard him talk like this—so defeated, so broken. It’s like you’re seeing a completely different person, someone who’s been hiding behind that arrogant smirk for years, and it scares you.

“I’m tired,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Tired of all of it.”

You swallow hard, trying to keep your emotions in check. “Then why do you keep doing it? Why do you keep putting yourself through this?”

“Because I don’t know how to stop,” he admits, his voice trembling. “I don’t know how to be anything else.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy and suffocating. You can feel the weight of them, pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. You’ve always known that there was more to Leo than the cocky influencer he portrayed online, but you never realized just how deep his insecurities ran.

You squeeze his hand gently, hoping to offer some kind of comfort. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know. You don’t have to keep pretending like everything’s fine when it’s not.”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “And who’s going to help me? You?”

You meet his gaze, holding it this time. “Yes. Me.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The tension is thick, but there’s something else there too—something unspoken, something that’s been building between you for years. You’ve always been rivals, always been at each other’s throats, but underneath all of that, there’s been this… connection. This thing that neither of you has ever been willing to acknowledge.

Until now.

Leo’s eyes soften, his usual sharp wit dulled by exhaustion and pain. He watches you for a moment, like he’s trying to figure something out, and then, slowly, he leans in.

You don’t stop him.

His lips brush against yours, tentative at first, like he’s testing the waters, waiting for you to push him away. But you don’t. Instead, you close the distance, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s soft, but filled with years of unresolved tension.

It’s messy and imperfect, but it feels right—like this was always supposed to happen, like this was the inevitable conclusion of everything that’s ever passed between you. And for a moment, it’s just the two of you, lost in each other, everything else fading away.

When he finally pulls back, he looks at you with something like disbelief in his eyes, like he can’t quite believe what just happened.

“You…” he starts, but he doesn’t finish. He doesn’t need to.

You just nod, leaning your forehead against his. “Yeah. Me.”

And in that moment, something between you shifts. The walls that you’ve both spent years building up start to crumble, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re both just… there. Vulnerable. Real.

It’s terrifying, but it’s also liberating.

“You don’t have to keep doing this, Leo,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “You don’t have to keep fighting.”

He closes his eyes, exhaling softly. “I don’t know how to stop.”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” you say again, squeezing his hand. “I’m here.”

For a long moment, he doesn’t respond. But then, slowly, he nods and buries his face into your neck.

“Okay,” he whispers.

And for the first time in years, Leo lets his guard down.

Masterlist

#tokyo debunker x reader #leo kurosagi x reader #leo kurosagi #tokyo debunker #hurt/comfort #tdb x reader #tdb #tkdb x reader #tkdb

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fanfic-she-wrote · 3 days

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Second Chances

One of the reasons Beetlejuice is determined to get married is because he needs true love’s kiss to return him back to the man he once was. Only Lydia doesn’t return his feelings…or so he thinks.

(Beetlejuice x Lydia Deetz)

(Contains spoilers for Beetlejuice Beetlejuice ⚠️ Do not read if you haven’t seen the movie! )

Chapter 1:

It was about mid November in the small town of Winter River, Connecticut. A slight dusting of white covered the lawn of a lonely house on top of the hill, the one known to locals as “the ghost house”. Which now belonged to Lydia Deetz, who decided to keep the house after Delia’s passing. Why? She really didn’t know. She had some fond memories there of course, like the time she spent with the Maintlands before they crossed over. But she also had some equally bad memories as well…

She took a deep breath and turned over in her bed, forcing her eyes shut trying to sleep, but she couldn’t. Not after what happened a little over a couple weeks ago when she saw him again. At first she was scared,but after a while it was like her and Betelgeuse seemed to just work together. She didn’t know why, but she actually found herself missing him. How strange, she thought.

She even felt a twinge of regret for sending him away after everything he did for her. If only he didn’t try to make her marry him…again. She didn’t want him or anybody for that matter. Then again if she didn’t, why would she be lying there thinking about him? She groaned feeing confused. If only she had someone to talk to. Astrid wouldn’t understand. She had nobody now. Not her father, not Delia, Rory, not even Betelgeuse…

——————————

Lydia wasn’t the only one feeling lonely. Betelgeuse was too as he sat there behind his desk listening to the sound of the shrunken heads endlessly typing away. Things had settled back down to how they were before, the same way they’ve been for over 30 years. To be honest, he was tired of it and just as he thought he would be free, he was sent back to the netherworld again. What was he going to do now? Just wait for Lydia to need him for something again? No, he was done with her. He helped her out twice and this is what he gets. Nope. Never again!

But then why was her picture still on his desk in a brand new frame?

—————————

Unable to rest, Lydia got up, put her black bathrobe on, and slowly opened the door, peering out into the hall as she went not wanting Astrid to see what she was doing.

Quietly she crept out into the hall and made her way towards the attic. Everything in the house was dead silent except for the thoughts racing through her mind as she slowly approached the stairs.

She just had to talk to him. Even though she was a little afraid to, she knew she had to see him again. At least thank him for what he did.

Lydia paused at the bottom step, looking up she saw the attic door was shut. She swore she would never go up there again and yet here she was. Just as she was about to take the first step she heard a voice call out from behind her, making her jump.

“Mom? What are you doing?” Astrid asked, half asleep.

“Nothing. Just…checking on things.” Lydia quickly replied, folding her arms, and taking a deep breath to calm herself.

“He’s gone, mom. You don’t have to worry anymore.” Her daughter assured her. Lydia sighed. That wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear.

“What’s wrong?” The teen asked, noticing how unusual her mother was acting. Her mother was always unusual, but this was different.

“Nothings wrong, kiddo. I’m fine. Let’s just go back to bed.” Lydia said, pushing her daughter down the hall away from the attic.

“You can tell me.” Astrid insisted. Lydia shook her head.

“Astrid, it’s complicated.”

They came to a stop just outside Astrid’s bedroom door. “Is it about…Be—“ She quickly stopped herself, not wanting to say his name. “Him?” She asked.

Lydia sighed, becoming impatient. “Just go to bed. Don’t worry about it.”

“But-“

“Good night Astrid!” and with that Lydia shut the door to her daughter’s room officially ending the conversation.

Lydia took one last glance over towards the attic and went back to her room, losing her nerve. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea after all? Maybe he’s better off wherever he is without her.

“Oh Betelgeuse…” She sighed as she headed back to her room.

From the Netherworld, her voice carried down to his ears sounding like a faint whisper. “Fuck.” Betelgeuse swore to himself. Why did she have to say his name?

#what do you think?#should i continue?#beetlejuice #beetlejuice beetlejuice spoilers #spoilers #beetlejuice x lydia #fanfic

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separatist-apologist · 1 day

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We Could Call It Even

Summary: Newly made and terrified, Elain Archeron's human fiance tells her of a creature that could turn her back and keep them together and Elain will stop at nothing to make rumor a reality.

There is no force that can undo fate. No magic that can unmake a mating bond. And Lucien Vanserra isn't about to let his mate throw herself in the path of certain death on a fools hope. Lucien will be forced, instead, to watch her love another man for eighty brutal, miserable years.

While Elain Archeron will have to contend with a life she hoped to never live…and a mate she never wanted.

Thank you @shadowisles-writes for the moodboard!!

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

“Return to me quickly,” Graysen told her that morning, wrapping a wool cloak around her shoulders. “Return to me human.”

“And…” Elain’s bottom lip trembled as she swallowed her fear, “And if I don’t?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” he replied, clearly convinced this was going to work. Elain, though…she was uneasy as she set out. She left in the dead of night to cross back over into Prythian. The closer she got, the more her magic stirred in her chest, crowding against the edges of her vision.

She shoved it down. It wasn’t natural, she reminded herself. Wrong. She wasn’t faerie, she was simply a human trapped in faerie skin. Like the old stories where faerie magic could trap a child if they weren’t careful or a bargain was worded poorly. She simply needed to break the spell.

True love wasn’t enough, though in the stories it always was. Elain found herself frustrated when she couldn’t keep the magic at bay, her knees sinking to the snow as she crossed the border into Prythian.

Her visions had always been chaotic and half-formed. Disjointed, she supposed. With her forehead pressed to the cold ground, Elain groaned, trying—and failing—to banish what now burst brightly behind her eyes.

Autumn leaves burning, smoke curling like shadow toward a darkened sky. A ruined, burnished crown clattering to white marble floors. Spring blooms bursting through the ground, the petals opening as rain cascaded from the sky. A night sky, alive with vivid lights dancing across an otherwise empty space.

Elain gasped. “I hate you,” she whispered, unclear if she was talking to herself or the powers that coursed through her. She’d clenched her jaw so tightly she tasted the coppery tang of blood and her fingers had curled into the frozen ground, causing several of her nails to break.

It was fine, she told herself, though in truth it wasn’t. Blood oozed over one of her nail beds, dripping three bright red spots over the stained, gray snow still gathered beneath a shady spot. It reminded her of gardening, a hobby she’d promised to give up once she was married. Graysen said he didn’t want a wife with dirt under her nails.

Back before the cauldron, she’d hoped to reason with him. Now, though, it seemed a fair compromise. He’d get an immortal wife that would almost certainly cause them to be shunned from society. And besides, she’d still have a say in the grounds. She could design it, plan it…just not execute her vision.

Graysen expected her to journey on foot to Night Court where she’d board a ship. No human ship would take her toward the faerie held territories, which meant Elain had to make her way back to the one place she’d hoped to never step foot again. It meant using more of the magic she hated. Feyre had once tried to show her and Nesta how to winnow. Nesta had refused the lesson outright but Elain, afraid she’d lose the last place she could stay if she refused, did the lessons.

Screwing up her face, nose wrinkled, Elain called on the well of magic bubbling in her stomach. It made her want to vomit when she felt the edges of the world press in on her, constricting her breath. It was only a moment, dumping her just on the outskirt of Velaris, but enough to elicit a soft sob from her throat.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. It was unfair.

Elain wanted to rage at the few people lumbering down the street, awake despite the glittering stars overhead. Didn’t anyone care? It was as if nothing had happened. She knew they all wanted her to just get over it. Was that what Feyre had done when she’d turned? Elain wracked her brain for the memory of how Feyre became fae, but it eluded her. Elain simply didn’t care how Feyre had handled the loss of her humanity.

Feyre had likely celebrated, Elain concluded as she marched her way down the sloping road to the harbor. She’d probably been overjoyed to shed her old skin and take up the mantle of power and beauty. It suited Feyre so well, which only angered Elain more. Where was Feyre’s grief? The years of life stripped away in favor of binding her to a man she barely knew and was so old, he’d participated in the first war against the humans?

Elain’s fingers curled to fists, feet stomping on the cobblestone. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t see the figure overing at the waters edge where stone met wood.

“Going somewhere?”

That voice clanged through her, bringing with it a veritable rising tide of emotions. Yearning. Hatred. Desire. Loathing. Elain whirled just as Lucien Vanserra, Seventh Son of Autumn, lowered the hood of his cloak. His expression was cool, arms crossed over his chest and legs spread a shoulders width apart.

She tried to shove wordlessly past him, but he used his body to block her.

“Move,” she ordered.

He didn’t.

“Turn around and go home,” he said instead, nodding his head in the direction behind her.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” she whispered, her body trembling as she faced him. The wind dragged the soft, masculine scent of him directly to her and every inhuman part of her wanted him.

Elain had never hated herself more. Shame welled up in her—this was a betrayal to her engagement, to the man she’d left behind. She wasn’t supposed to want someone else.

Lucien cocked his head, oblivious to the slant of her thoughts. Was this his poor attempt at flirting? Or worse, had he somehow known she was coming and intended to drag her off until she was so beaten down she agreed to whatever nefarious plans he had?

“Let me guess…you think you can make a bargain with a death god in exchange for your humanity?” he whispered, banishing Elain’s shame in favor of pure, undiluted fear.

“How—no—he’s not…he’s a—”

“There is no such thing as benevolence in this land, Elain,” Lucien ground out, looking as if he hated her. Perhaps he did, though that bothered her, too. He wasn’t allowed to hate her—only she could hate him.

“You don’t know everything—”

“And you don’t know anything,” he shot back, his contempt dripping from his words. “You’re a child fumbling about in the dark, content to damn us all if she can live out a fantasy—”

Elain slapped him. She hadn’t even thought about it. Her outrage had simply consumed her and she’d decided to hit him a split second before she did. Lucien staggered back a step, his fingers grazing his cheek as that golden eye held her wholly in place.

“Don’t you dare speak to me that way,” she whispered, voice trembling. “You are nobody. You have no home, your family hates you, and your friends would discard you the moment you’re no longer useful to them. Don’t presume you can stand there like an authority and speak down to me.”

Lucien’s brown cheeks went ashen at her words.

“You might be right,” he told her, drawing himself to his full height. He was tall, she realized. And fae. Unlike Feyre’s mate and his friends, with their short hair and rounded ears, Lucien looked so very faerie with that magical eye and his long, auburn hair half braided off a face that had once been handsome before he’d ruined it.

“Get out of my way—”

“I may be all the things you say, Elain, but at least I am not so spoiled, so selfish that I’d risk the lives of everyone so I might be happy.”

“Why shouldn’t I be allowed to be happy? I’ve never been given a choice—”

“You’re exercising your choice right now!” he shot back, his voice drowning hers out. “No one stopped you from hiding away with a human. One bad thing happened to you, and now you think you’re owed far more than you’ve ever given.”

“You don’t know me,” she whispered.”

“I don’t want to know you,” he replied, his own voice shaking. “Elain, from Feyre’s stories. Too spoiled and self-absorbed to care if her sister was starving, too. If she was safe, if she was happy, if she had anything comforting. She did one helpful thing once, and thinks it makes her some kind of saint.”

Elain could feel the tears gathering in her eyes. “You let Feyre die.”

“You did so first. I heard, when Tamlin came to collect her, that you hid behind your father and your sister. When a faerie general demanded I tell her Feyre’s name, I kneeled silently and let her torture me. I saved her life in the first trial. You let a faerie take her in the night. Don’t mistake us as equals, Elain.”

“We had no choice—”

“How very convenient,” he sneered. “Is that you have no choice, or you simply refuse to acknowledge your own agency?”

“This is why you remain alone, you know,” she said, wanting to hurt him as badly as he’d hurt her. She wanted to scar Lucien emotionally for daring to say the things she only ever privately thought. “And you can defend Feyre all you like, but if I went to her and showed her what you said, she would never forgive you.”

“I don’t care. Give me the ticket.” He held out his hand.

“I’ll scream.”

“Go ahead. Scream as loud as you like. Let the authorities come and take us both before Rhysand.”

Elain’s stomach bottomed out. “Please—”

“Give me the ticket.”

“You don’t understand—”

“The ticket—”

“I love him!” she cried, the tears she’d been holding back finally spilling like a dam. “Can’t you understand that? Or are you so cold you’ve never once experienced love. I will be careful how I word it, I’ll—”

“He’s a death god,” Luicen repeated, a strange, almost sad look crossing over his features before they hardened back into ice. “He’s not required to honor his bargains and you are not clever enough to beat him on your own.”

A horrible, cruel idea was forming in her head. “Come with me, then—”

“No.”

Lucien spoke the word flatly, devoid of all the hatred that had spilled from him before. Now there was simply nothing, as if his soul had left his body and all that remained was a creature that could do nothing but deny her passage.

“He could break the bond.”

“Nothing can break the bond,” Lucien informed her in that same, soulless voice. “The Mother made it, and only she could unmake it. Just as nothing can unmake you—your human form is gone, burned away by death. If you beg the death god to free you of your faerie form, there will be nothing left of you but ash.”

“How do you know?” she demanded, wanting him to yell at her again. Anything but whatever this was.

“I was there,” he whispered, shadow flickering over his russet eye. “He is a god, bound to the land as punishment for a crime lost to time. It wasn’t written down because we had no language, were still creatures running on four legs. Humans were mere thoughts, beasts more accustomed to the seas than to land. To think you could outsmart him is folly and foolishness. Turn around and go back to your home, Elain. Put this idea out of your mind.”

“I promised,” she half wailed, despair replacing her anger. “If I go back—”

Lucien cocked his head, some of that fire flickering back to life. “Yes?”

She pulled the ticket from her pocket and slammed it roughly into his chest. He didn’t move, fingers brushing hers as he took it before it fluttered between them.

“Even if he didn’t want me, I would never want you.”

His lip curled over his teeth. “How very fortunate for me.”

She knew it was a lie. Feyre had told her the men felt the mating bond far more strongly than women, and rejecting it often made them insane. It was tempting to break the bond right then and there and prove Lucien right. He’d accused her of being spoiled and selfish, caring only about herself. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Maybe she was vindictive, too.

But Elain was suddenly tired and a little afraid. Anxious, too, that Graysen was going to change his mind when she told him there was no bargain to be made. Suddenly Lucien didn’t matter. The fight had simply gone out of her, blinked out like the stars overhead. The sky, once inky black, had lightened to a pale violet. At any moment, the sun would fully break and the world would see her for what she was.

And she was terrified Lucien was right about her. Every accusation he’d made against her was true. She hadn’t cared, though she had known Feyre was allowing herself to be the martyr if she and Nesta were happy.

And she had hidden, hadn’t thought even once to suggest herself in place of Feyre. She’d just wanted that creature to leave, and if that meant Feyre had to leave with him, well, so be it. Knowing that Feyre had told him that, when Feyre had only ever told her such kind things about Lucien, brought back more of the shame from before.

“None of this would have happened if you’d stood up to your High Lord,” Elain whispered, holding his gaze. Lucien’s mouth went slack and right then, she knew she’d wounded him just as thoroughly as he’d wounded her. “I may be spoiled, but you're a coward. You did this to me. I will never forgive you for it.”

She turned, then, needing to get far, far away. Elain only dared to look over her shoulder once, but Lucien was gone. Had he ever been there? The ticket was gone from her pocket, but all that remained was the tell-tale racing of her heart. She didn’t know what to do with herself, but she knew she couldn’t stay in Prythian. Feyre would learn she’d been here, if Lucien hadn’t already raced off to tattle on her.

Elain winnowed again, dumping herself with a sob on the border between Spring and the wall. Curling her knees against her chest, fingers balled into fists and pressed against her chest, she sobbed like a wounded animal. It was unfair. Nothing was as it should be. Was it selfish to simply want? Spoiled to hope for something?

She hadn’t thrust them into poverty.

She hadn’t done anything. Lucien didn’t know anything. He was living his same life, marred only by her presence. She doubted he’d been thrilled to learn they were mates and now he was punishing her for it. Elain decided to discard his words, wiping her eyes on the edge of her sleeve.

Elain couldn’t go back that night. She needed Graysen to believe she’d at least tried. Instead, once she felt like she could walk away, Elain stumbled through the familiar woods of the village she’d once resided in for the cottage that now rotted on the very edge. The door had been replaced, propped up to keep animals out.

Elain stepped inside, shivering violently at the memories that came flooding back. She’d been happy here, somehow. No one else had been—Feyre and Nesta would rather have died than return. But Elain remembered how they used to sleep in that too-soft bed, jostling for blankets and space when it got cold.

She remembered how she’d curl up around Nesta, who seemed to radiate warmth even when she was bone thin and hungry, or how, when Feyre had gotten sick, she’d slept on her back so Feyre could rest her head against Elain’s shoulder. Her younger sister had still sucked her thumb back then, whimpering softly for their mother who’d been dead for years.

Before, in the giant estate, Nesta had been consumed by her lessons and Feyre had taken to all but living in the trees, wilder than an animal. Elain had felt so isolated, trying—and often failing—to find friends that filled the gnawing void in her chest. Those friends had vanished along with the wealth, but Feyre and Nesta had remained.

They’d been her only friends for years and Elain had clung to it, in her way. Perhaps she’d done it badly, selfishly. Perhaps it was spoiled to wish nothing had ever changed. Maybe Lucien was right about her, but that didn’t mean he understood why. He didn’t know her at all, only what he believed because she hadn’t fallen into his arms.

Maybe she was spoiled and selfish, but at least she wasn’t mean. She wasn’t bitter. Lucien could only see the ugliness but standing in that cottage, Elain could still see the beauty of it all. The hope, the joy, the love. And maybe she was simply more human than she wasn’t. Humans were all the things he’d spat at her. Was she supposed to be ashamed?

Elain sighed, making her way to that one room where the bed remained. The window was still in tact, keeping the elements away. Everything looked exactly as it had been, though somehow less bright. In her memory it was all so beautiful, but here in the early morning light, it was dull. Empty.

Ordinary.

There was nothing special about any of it. For some reason, that was the biggest disappointment of the day. Elain sat on the edge of the bed, kicking up a cloud of dust that settled in her lap like fallen stars. She decided to stay for the night before trudging back to Gray and hoping he understood why she couldn’t go.

More than anything, Elain was terrified he was going to change his mind once he realized the only life available to them was one of tragedy. She wouldn’t age—but he would. They’d likely never have kids given how difficult it was for the fae to conceive. He’d be shunned from society for his choice, forced to live as an outsider.

She almost didn’t blame him if he decided she wasn’t worth the hassle.

But to Elain, it was worth it. Even if it meant watching him grow old and die—at least they’d have the time together.

Elain ate from the rations in her little bag before curling up on the bed. It was too early to sleep, but with nothing else to do, she drifted in and out. When she couldn’t, she stared up at the ceiling and tried to banish Lucien’s voice from her head. He had no right, she decided, to say those things about her.

To her.

Night was worse—the wind howled, rattling the thin glass in the rotting wooden frame. Animals clawed at the structure before the world fell eerily silent. She supposed it was like that—the darkness was at its zenith, scaring even the wind itself. It didn’t stop her from feeling as if she was being watched.

The dawn broke, bringing with it the realization that she’d made her choice, had burned all the bridges she might one day need to return. There was nowhere to go but back home. Elain set out, bones aching from her restless sleep, mind racing with all the possibilities of what might be waiting for her.

It was nearly noon by the time she reached the fortress. The doors were opened to her immediately, and the sentry waiting just inside greeted her with a nervous smile. The staff was growing accustomed to her presence, their wariness often replaced with a pitying smile. It was better, she supposed, though Elain wasn’t certain she wanted to spend the rest of her life being pitied, either.

Graysen was up, dressed in his fine breeches and a rather nice blue and black jacket. He paused in the stone hall when he saw her, shadows half obscuring his face. “You’re back,” he exclaimed, eyes falling on her pointed ears. “You’re back early.”

“I can’t go,” she whispered, deciding she would just lie. She’d intended to tell him the truth, but fear gripped her heart. “When the captain learned, he…he said it was an ill omen to travel to a death god—”

“Not a death god,” Graysen interrupted, but Elain knew Lucien was right. Damn him all the same, but he was right.

“Yes, Gray. A death god,” she repeated gently. “He turned me away.”

“Then we’ll lie—”

“They can read minds, remember?” she said, telling yet another lie. He didn’t know it wasn't entirely true, though. Graysen’s face fell as he walked to her, skimming his fingers over her arms.

“What happened to you is an injustice. Is there no recourse, then? They’re just allowed to harm you and I have to sit here and make my peace with it?”

His concern was a balm for her wounded feelings. “I’m alive, at least.”

“That you are,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Still, there was a tightness to his features she didn’t like. He’d been too hopeful and now they were dashed, ruined and wilted.

“Are you reconsidering?”

“No,” he said without hesitation. “We will continue with the wedding.”

Elain sighed, relief replacing the heavy weight of fear. She could still have the life she wanted.

And maybe, someday, she’d find something to restore her humanity.

Lucien Vanserra be damned.

#elucien #remember- elain and lucien do not like each other #not even secretively

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merwgue · 2 days

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Why Feyre Shouldn't Have Been High Lady of the Night Court (and Why Lucien & Elain Shouldn’t Lead the Day Court Without Putting in the Work)

Alright, let’s get one thing straight: being the High Lady or High Lord of a court isn’t about looking pretty, having magical powers, or being able to swing a sword. It’s not some fantasy crown you can just plop on your head and suddenly you’re ruling a kingdom. No, being a leader is about more than just political power—it’s about knowing the people, their culture, their traditions. It’s about being part of the community, not just ruling it from a fancy chair.

And that’s where we run into a problem with Feyre. I mean, bless her heart, but let’s be real: three months in the Night Court, and boom, she’s High Lady? It’s like showing up to a new job, sitting in a few meetings, and then declaring yourself CEO. Girl, you haven’t even figured out where the coffee machine is yet!

The Night Court has centuries of history, deep-rooted traditions, festivals, and customs that Feyre couldn’t possibly know in just a few months. She was still figuring out the whole “Inner Circle” dynamic and hadn’t really gotten to know the people or the intricacies of the court’s culture. And yet, she’s handed the title of High Lady like it’s a participation trophy. Sure, she may have bonded with Rhys and the gang, but knowing a few people in power isn’t the same as understanding the heart and soul of an entire court.

Leading isn’t just about power and politics—it’s about making people feel seen and heard. It’s about knowing what makes them tick, what they value, and how they celebrate. How can you guide people if you don’t even understand what they’re all about? How do you unite a court when you don’t know what unites them? Leadership isn’t just about making decisions; it’s about connecting with the people you’re leading. And let’s be real, if you don’t know the culture, you’re going to end up making some pretty awkward blunders along the way.

Now, let’s talk about Lucien and Elain, because if they become High Lord and High Lady of the Day Court without putting in some serious time there, I’m holding them to the same standard. I love Lucien, don’t get me wrong—he’s my cutey patootie—but leading a court isn’t just about showing up and throwing your weight around. Lucien hasn’t been a part of the Day Court as an adult, and Elain… well, let’s just say her resume in court politics is a little thin.

If Lucien and Elain waltz into the Day Court and start calling the shots without first understanding the history, the culture, and the people, it’s going to be a disaster. They need to spend some serious time under Helion’s wing, learning about the traditions and festivals, understanding what makes the Day Court tick. Otherwise, they’re just going to look like tourists trying to lead a country they don’t understand. It’s like trying to host a party in a house you’ve never been in before—you’re bound to knock over a few vases and spill some drinks.

And don’t even get me started on the whole "High Lady of the Night Court" situation again. Leading isn’t just about making political decisions or winning battles. It’s about fostering a sense of community. It’s about celebrating the court’s culture and traditions, making sure people feel united. If you don’t even know what those traditions are, how can you possibly lead? Feyre got the title before she had the chance to immerse herself in the Night Court’s customs, and that’s a problem. Imagine if she accidentally trampled over centuries-old traditions because she didn’t know any better? Awkward.

At the end of the day, leadership is earned, not handed out like candy at a parade. Feyre, Lucien, Elain—they all need to put in the time to really know the courts they’re leading. It’s not enough to just have power. You have to understand the people, the culture, the history. Otherwise, you’re just a figurehead with no real connection to the court. And let’s be real, nobody wants that.

So, no shade to my guy Lucien, but if he and Elain take the reins of the Day Court, they better put in some work. And Feyre? Well, maybe next time she could spend a few years learning the ropes before jumping straight to the top. It’s not like we’re in a rush or anything, right?

Ty @ae-neon for letting me take inspo of your idea💞❤️

#anti rhysand #pro tamlin #anti ic #anti feyre #anti mor #anti rhys #pro nesta #acotar #lucien #elucien #im pro lulu and ilh so what do i tag it?🥹😭#elain #day court #night court #i knoe theyd do a good job tho my babies

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clarisse0o · 7 hours

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Camp Wiegman-Part 81

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 5K

Masterlist

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Sunday, April 17th; 2:30 PM - Porto Beach.

“So, how’s it going with your in-laws?”

I’m gazing at the horizon when Alexia's question drops. We decided to have a relaxing day for this first day of vacation in Porto. Jenni is exhausted from the work at the gym, and she wanted us to start off slowly... Well, as slowly as we can, I guess. Alexia and I are soaking up the sun on our towels, while Lucy and Jenni have decided to play a game of volleyball not far from us. It’s hot today for an autumn day, so it’s the perfect opportunity. The beach isn’t crowded, but the sun has brought out a few people anyway. I get it. It’s nice to enjoy this unexpected warmth.

“Well... I had a strange conversation with my mother-in-law this morning.”

“Really? Was it at least in a good way?”

“Oh yes, yes. She straight up told me, ‘Welcome to the family, Ona,’” I mimic in a deeper voice.

Alexia bursts out laughing and props herself up on her elbows. She looks at me through her sunglasses.

“Oh wow, that’s classic. Honestly, you didn’t land the best mother-in-law... Jenni’s parents are lovely compared to her.”

“They seemed pretty nice last night, that’s true. Is it going well with them?”

“Totally, yeah. They’re adorable to me. According to them, I’m her longest relationship... I didn’t know how to take that.”

“I can imagine.”

I laugh before we lapse into a silence. I gaze at the sky where a few clouds are floating, but not enough to cover the sun. It’s strong today. I had to put on sunscreen just in case. With my fair skin, I burn quickly.

“You look like something’s bothering you.”

I sigh and turn my head in her direction. Unlike me, O seems to tan easily. I’m a bit jealous of that. I wish it would happen to me too.

“I think Lucy is hiding something from me.”

She furrows her brow.

“Go on. Why do you think that?”

“She made some vague comments last week, and she’s been acting weird since we got here.”

“Really? I don’t find her behavior different.”

“She’s tense, and I don’t know. I can tell something is bothering her.”

“And do you think there’s a particular reason?”

“I think she went through something here that she’s trying to hide... Or maybe forget. I don’t really know. She barely talked to me about her life here.”

“You sound pretty sure of yourself.”

“It’s a gut feeling. Maybe I’m wrong.”

“Well, ask her.”

“It’s more complicated than that. I don’t want to push her, you know. I feel like she thinks whatever she reveals will change everything between us.”

“That’s silly.”

“Yeah... I know, right?”

I groan and lie down on my stomach. I’m trying to alternate so I get some color on both sides. My friend quickly follows my lead, sighing at the same time.

“I don’t know what to say. Maybe there’s nothing at all. It’s just a feeling, after all.”

“Hmm.”

I’d like to believe that’s the case too. Unfortunately, I don’t think it is.

“And what about you? How did it go between Jenni and Alba? And the party we missed? Was it good?”

She laughs and nods her head. I rest my head on my arms, making sure I can still keep my eyes on her.

“Surprisingly, everything went well. Maybe our big fight wasn’t for nothing. Alba was calm.”

“That’s great!”

“Oh yes, totally. It was a bit tense during their first meeting at the party. Jenni wasn’t comfortable at all at first. Not only did she have to face Alba, but it was also the first time she saw all her students again as my girlfriend, you know?”

“It’s hard to picture her feeling uncomfortable, though.”

I tease, but Lucy reacts the same way. It must be strange for them.

“She was, I swear,” she teases back. “It was funny to see.”

“I bet. Anyway, I’m glad everything’s going well for you. So, how did it go?”

“My sister was cool. She was also a bit tense, but everything went well. They shook hands and, as the evening went on, they started talking.”

“Like, big sister talk?”

“No, no. Alba was genuinely interested in her. Like, she wanted to get to know the person I’m with, you know?”

“Wow. Cool. And our friends? How did they react when they saw Jenni?”

“Shocked,” she laughs. “They didn’t understand anything until they connected it with the school story. No one saw it coming.”

“I can imagine. And last week? Did you all stay together as planned? I think that’s what Alba wanted.”

“Yes. Misa and her helped us out with the gym. I think Alba appreciated that she had such an ambitious project. Plus, it seems like playing tough girl bonds them together. They even managed to laugh together.”

I giggle, burying my head in my arms.

“Well, that’s good then... Everything’s finally falling into place.”

“Yeah. We’ve made so much progress, you and Lucy are going to be surprised. Some furniture is already in place now. It’s totally different from when you left. Oh, and, you were right about one thing. Misa isn’t so bad after all.”

I laugh heartily. She finally understood. Her week must have been interesting. I almost regret not being there.

“I know,” I replied.

I have to admit I’m quite surprised after Alba’s outburst when he overreacted. He managed to reassess himself before the meeting. That’s good. Things are getting back to normal. It was about time.

“But still, something was missing.”

“Oh yeah? What?”

“You and Lucy, of course! I can’t wait for school to be over so she can finally spend time with them. You two were really missed at the party.”

“There are only three weeks left now. We’ll manage to hold out for what’s left.”

“Definitely.”

“Just three more weeks...”

I sigh and close my eyes, burying my head between my arms again. All’s well that ends well, finally. I feel reassured. I can go back to relaxing. However, this peace doesn’t last long. After just a few minutes of tranquility, a wet body comes to lie against mine. I gasp at the coldness it brings. When I open my eyes, I spot some brown strands mingling with my blonde hair. I have nothing to worry about when her lips come to kiss my neck.

“You’re wet,” I mumble, making my girlfriend laugh.

“Sorry, I wanted to cool off before hiding your body.”

“Hiding it, huh?” I giggle.

“Well, yes. A group of guys has been watching you a little too closely for a while now.”

“Oh really? Then it’s better to chase them away,” I tease.

“Exactly. Make some room for me.”

“You really can’t just take your towel, can you?”

I grumble, but I still move to the side to let her lie under me. I half-drop onto her with a sigh of contentment. Actually, no. It’s more comfortable this way. Lucy giggles as she wraps her arms around me.

“No, I can’t. You’re starting to get sunburned, though. Are you sure you’re from Portugal?” she laughs.

“Put some more sunscreen on me instead of teasing.”

“Anything for my princess.”

She wiggles around to grab it from our bag above our heads. Once she gets it, she spreads some in her hands before rubbing it on my back. I enjoy her little caresses as she applies the lotion.

“Thanks,” I murmur.

“It’s my pleasure.”

“So, guys, what are we doing tonight?” Ale asks.

“It’s already planned,” Jenni announces.

“Oh yeah? And what is it?” she asks curiously.

- "Well, that’s up to Lucy to ask."

- "Oh, so you’re doing things behind my back now?"

- "Nonsense. I had the idea, and Jenni approved it this morning," she defends herself.

- "And what’s this idea?"

- "Well... I thought of you. I remembered that you like football matches, and there happens to be one tonight."

- "A football match?" Alexia comments. "What a great idea! It’s been ages since I’ve seen one! Did you get the tickets?"

- "Yes, this morning..."

I smile at Lucy, who's been watching me the whole time. I can tell she’s gauging my reaction. The last time I went to a stadium was with my father.

- "That’s a great idea," I tell her.

I kiss her to accompany my words, and I can feel her relax immediately. Her arms tighten around me, and I rest my head against her chest. I smile at Alexia, who has a small smirk.

- "Well, you two look even closer than before... It was already hard to top that, but now..."

I chuckle softly, snuggling against Lucy. She’s right. I think we’ve reached a point in our relationship where there’s no turning back. If a breakup ever happened, it would be devastating.

- "Hmm... You’re right."

- "What did you do in Lisbon last week?"

- "Not much," Lucy replies. "Lots of rest, hikes, and evenings at the beach."

- "Hmm, hmm..."

Her smile grows, and I roll my eyes with a small laugh. I have a feeling she’s going to grill me when we’re alone.

- "Hey, there’s an ice cream vendor passing by. Do you want one?" Lucy offers.

It seems like I’m not the only one trying to dodge the conversation, which makes me laugh again.

- "Good idea, I’ll go with you."

- "Yeah, go ahead, run away instead of telling us what’s changed so much between you two!"

We laugh heartily at Alexia's playful shout as we walk away. I kiss Lucy, who holds me tightly with her arm around my shoulders.

- "I love you," she whispers to me while I’m still giggling.

Sunday, April 17; 9:45 PM - Stadium.

Everyone is shouting around us, Alexia being the loudest. The atmosphere is wild. I don’t remember it being this intense. Lucy had a great idea, and I’m so glad we’re here right now. She’s the best girlfriend. I never thought she’d remember such a small detail I’d told her a long time ago. It’s just a league match, but the fans are giving their all for their team.

- "I can’t believe it! How did she miss such an easy chance!?"

- "I didn’t know she liked football this much," I whisper to my girlfriend.

She laughs, watching my friend who’s now standing, fuming. She’s one of those people who hate when the home team is losing by just one goal.

- "Me neither."

- "Pff! Unbelievable," Alexia says as she sits back down beside me.

- "Sweetheart, maybe you should calm down a bit," Jenni tries to soothe her.

I can’t hold in my laughter anymore, and neither can Lucy. This scene is just too funny. It seems I’m also witnessing a very uncomfortable Jenni.

- "But seriously! Even I could do better than them!" she says, crossing her arms.

- "Oh, really?" I tease.

- "Hey, don’t laugh. I played football for a long time in high school. The only issue was that we kept changing schools."

She crosses her arms and continues sulking.

- "Oh, I didn’t mean to upset you," I giggle. "I didn’t know you played football."

- "Well, now you know. But seriously, this amateur team can’t even equalize," she continues with exaggerated gestures.

This time I burst out laughing. She’s clearly making our night.

- "We really need to think of bringing her along every time we go to a match," I say to Lucy.

- "Oh no, please don’t," Jenni begs from her other side.

The poor girl’s going to have to endure this for a while longer. Halftime eventually arrives. Lucy and Jenni had left a bit earlier to grab something to eat since we hadn’t stopped anywhere before. Alexia has finally calmed down, though she’s clearly upset that her team hasn’t managed to close the gap.

- "So, are you finally going to tell me what’s up with you and Lucy?" she asks.

- "Tell you what?"

- "Don’t play innocent," she says with a mischievous grin. "Something’s different, I can feel it."

- "There’s nothing special, I assure you," I giggle. "I think being away from school has been good for us."

- "Did you tell her about Feli? You know... what she doesn’t know yet."

- "Briefly, yes. She had a feeling, but she cut me off. I think she doesn’t want to know, and that’s fine with me."

- "So, Mapi was wrong in the end."

I chuckle and nod.

- "She doesn’t need to know. Otherwise, she’d be upset."

- "Mum’s the word, I promise," she says with a wink.

I smile sincerely at her. There are perks to being close to two friends at once. If I can’t tell one something, I can tell the other.

- "The important thing is that you were able to let it out. I’ve never seen you so relaxed. You’re at peace."

- "She’s made me feel at peace," I reply.

- "Have you been able to enjoy her company?" she asks, raising her eyebrows suggestively, making me laugh.

- "Stop," I say, blushing.

- "What? You’re not going to get shy about this now, are you?"

- "And what about you and Jenni?"

- "Oh no, no, no. This isn’t about us. Your situation is more complicated."

I roll my eyes. Well, she’s not wrong, but she doesn’t need to remind me. To make her think otherwise, I respond:

- "Well, actually, this trip has been very... fruitful. We’ve enjoyed ourselves... especially in the evenings."

- "Really?" she says, surprised.

- "Oh yes. Lucy is a goddess," I admit, blushing again as I think back to our nights together.

She laughs loudly.

- "Wow... She must have really put you in some kind of state for you to blush like that."

- "Stop, it’s not funny."

- "It’s crazy, though."

- "What is?"

- "Well, a few months ago, she hated me for getting her best friend kicked out. Now she’s dating a student, and we’re even spending time together at her place. I seriously never saw that coming."

- "I believe you."

- "I’m so glad you came to the school. It’s the best thing that could have happened to me. Not only do I have a best friend now, but you’ve completely changed my circle. Everything could have been so different without you."

I smile sincerely at her. I totally understand what she means.

- "I know exactly what you mean. If I hadn’t come here, I’d probably still be in my room, feeling sorry for myself. Or who knows, maybe I’d have left home again to go back to drugs."

- "Don’t say that. I don’t think you would’ve sunk that low."

- "You’re wrong. I think I would have. I had nothing to hold on to before. Now I have Lucy, Mapi, you, and everyone else. And let’s not even talk about my future. I never would have worked in the arts without Lucy."

- "As they say, ‘if’ changes the world. We were lucky that only good things came our way. Not everyone gets that."

- "That’s true," I sigh. "In the end, the school has every reason to exist. It really does work miracles."

Alexia laughs, nodding in agreement. Unlike me, she’s believed in this from the start, but I’m only realizing it now. It’s a good thing it exists. When you're surrounded by good people, everything changes. You lose that hatred for the world. You only see the good. That’s how I feel right now.

- "Do you already know if you’re going to meet Lucy’s family? Jenni told me they all live nearby and that she’s close to them. She thinks you’ll be meeting them soon."

- "Are you reading their minds or something?"

- "Why do you say that?" she teases.

- "When we got back from the beach to change before meeting you, her parents told us they’re organizing a big barbecue. They want me to meet everyone."

- "Really? That’s cool."

- "Yeah... I hope you’ll be invited. That way, you can support me."

- "Oh, I don’t think you need to worry."

- "You just said she’s close to them. What if they don’t like me? What do I do?"

- "Well, nothing at all," she giggles. "Lucy loves you. She’s not going to leave you over that."

- "Hmm..."

"Don’t make that face. I’m sure they’re going to love you. »

- We’ll see.

- You managed to win over her mother in just one day. I think you’ll be able to handle the rest of her family, right?

- Yeah… You’re probably right.

To be honest, her mother is quite something. Even Alexia noticed it after just one meal with her.

- Anyway, all that matters is that Lucy loves you. She’ll never let them bring you down. She doesn’t let anyone do that.

I sigh softly. Now that I think about it, she’s right. Lucy always takes my side, as long as I’m doing the right thing.

- Is she just as nervous about meeting your family? Because she’s going with you to your mother’s wedding, right?

- Yes, but I don’t think so. She hasn’t mentioned it. On the other hand, she’s more anxious about meeting my friends. Well, she already knows them, but you know… being the “commander” and all, she’s not exactly at ease.

- That’s strange, I think… I’ve been thinking since you talked to me this afternoon.

- About what?

- Well, you know, about that feeling you have regarding Lucy.

- And?

- Well, we’re in their hometown, right? What did you do the first time you went home during your first leave?

- Uh…

I frown, trying to remember. I’m not sure where she’s going with this, but I’ll play along.

- I spent time with Mapi, and we went out the next night.

- Exactly. They lived here until at least high school. Don’t you find it odd that Lucy or even Jenni never talk about their friends here? Of course, they have friends in Manchester, but they should have some here too, right?

The thought strikes me. Indeed, Lucy has never mentioned her friends. There’s Jenni, of course, but that’s it. Otherwise, she only talks about her family.

- Hasn’t Jenni ever talked to you about it either? I asked her.

- Well, no, but I’d never thought about it before. Only after what you said this afternoon.

I nod.

- It is strange, indeed...

- I’ll help you investigate if you want, but for now, we’d better change the subject. They’re coming back.

- Thanks, but it won’t be necessary. I’m sure Lucy will talk to me about it when she feels the need.

I turn to see them climbing the stairs. When they reach us, we stand up to let Jenni sit next to her girlfriend. I sit back down at the same time as Lucy, taking my drink and hot dog from her.

- Thank you, that’s sweet.

I give her a kiss, which she accepts with a smile I can feel against my lips. I appreciate that we still show affection for little things. It really expresses our feelings.

- You’re welcome.

- We almost got caught, comments Jenni. There were already a lot of people.

- It’s fine, the second half hasn’t started yet.

- Well, just barely, I point out to them.

The players are returning to the field. It’s crazy how everyone’s eyes are glued to their seats.

- Cool! Finally.

- Please, babe. Try to calm down. Our neighbors are going to lose their patience at this rate.

It’s true that we’ve had several disapproving looks between Alexia’s shouts and our laughter.

- Hmm… Anyway, I’m hungry, she says, taking a bite of her hot dog.

We eat ours while watching the second half. Alexia seems to have taken the hint because she remains much calmer during this time. Maybe it’s because the team managed to equalize as soon as they came back. It’s past eleven when the match finally ends. Everyone is in high spirits, singing along after the team’s victory. Alexia is in total euphoria.

- They fought like tigers! It was amazing.

- So, there’s no stopping her, I tease softly.

- At least she brings good vibes.

I snuggle closer to Lucy, who keeps me close against her. A huge crowd has formed to exit the stadium. It’s a good way to avoid getting lost on our way out.

- We could still go for a drink, my friend suggests.

- Oh, it’s almost midnight, her girlfriend points out. We’re all exhausted.

She looks at us for support. She really seems drained. After all, she’s been working non-stop to get the gym ready to open on time. It must be something, considering she still works another job to cover her rent.

- Well… Why not? Lucy responds. Our car is downtown anyway. Unless you’re too tired, Jenni.

- You’re abandoning me now? I thought we were supposed to stick together!

My girlfriend chuckles softly.

- Sorry, but I thought it was a good idea.

- Come on, babe, Ale pleads. You’re not going to be a party pooper, are you? Even Lucy said yes!

She sighs, running a hand over her head.

- We won’t stay long, I assure her.

- Fine, she mutters. Let’s go then. But I really don’t want to stay out late. I won’t be able to keep up all week otherwise.

- You’re amazing! I promise we won’t stay long!

She leads the way, almost skipping. Lucy laughs at Jenni’s exasperated look.

- Really, Lucy? What’s gotten into you?

- Oh come on, relax. It’s just a beer. You’ll have time to sleep tomorrow morning.

- Hmm. You’ll pay for this.

I smile as I watch them closely. I know they’re close, but I think I’m starting to understand why now… I just don’t know the reasons yet. I hope Lucy will tell me soon, otherwise I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist investigating, and I doubt she’ll appreciate that.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #ona batlle #barca femeni #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze

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