#and i think that memory will never be defeated

[brigitoshaughnessy]

I am literally going to answer all of these? I have no secrets.

1. what's the best advice you've ever been given?

Don’t think about which option you should choose today. Think about what regrets you’ll have in the future based on each choice.

2. what is your preferred method of non-physical self destruction?

Spiraling anxiety

3. what is your favorite way to self care?

Sitting in a dark, quiet room by myself OR taking a vacation by myself.

4. tell me about your most vivid memory, good or bad.

Ehh, I don’t know that any are more vivid. I tend to live more in the present and for the future than in the past. I don’t like to dwell, probably because most of my vivid memories are traumatic. I.e., my parents deaths, my fiancées death, my brothers death… etc.

5. if anything, what would you change about your childhood?

I would have spent more time drawing.

6. what is something that you've always wanted to do but have never been able to do?

Sky diving

7. what is your fatal flaw?

Overthinking to the point of self-defeatism. Think of Marvin in Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy.

8. what is something that gets to you that you wish wouldn't?

Criticism

9. do you cry? why or why not?

Yes. When I disappoint those close to me.

10. tell me about an insecurity you overcame.

I am a non-technical person in a technical job. I’m faking it, but no one knows.

11. tell me about your last failed friendship.

My husband (no filter) told a friend of mine that I thought he was neglecting his dog. My friend was livid that I hadn’t told him directly.

12. who do you wish you could connect with but haven't been able to connect with?

My last surviving immediate family member. We have never clicked.

13. what can make you excessively angry?

Injustice & memes that over simplify complex issues & the plebs that make the memes their life’s philosophy.

14. do you enjoy being lightheartedly teased? why or why not?

No. I’m very sensitive to criticism and having attention drawn to me. I get embarrassed very easily.

15. do you prefer to be numb or overly emotional? Why?

Numb. Excessive emotion has been negative emotion in my life experience.

16. what is a skill or talent you've completely lost or overlooked? why did that happen?

Guitar. I picked up writing fanfic again. Im a serial hobbyist.

17. what was your favorite color as a child and what is your favorite color now?

Purple… and I no longer have one.

18. what is something you can't bring yourself to get rid of?

My parents wedding rings.

19. tell me something you don't like telling the people you are close to.

That they could do better at something. I manage for work so it’s difficult to feel that I’m a manager of people personally.

20. tell me what you think others think about you.

Probably that I’m a know it all who thinks she’s too clever. But hopefully, also that I care about people, and can set aside my premonitions to be present when someone needs me.

Reblog with your answers (or just one or two) if you care to share. I love learning about all of you. :)

deep asks that get uncomfortably personal

what’s the best advice you’ve ever been given?

what is your preferred method of non-physical self destruction?

what is your favorite way to self care?

tell me about your most vivid memory, good or bad.

if anything, what would you change about your childhood?

what is something that you’ve always wanted to do but have never been able to do?

what is your fatal flaw?

what is something that gets to you that you wish wouldn’t?

do you cry? why or why not?

tell me about an insecurity you overcame.

tell me about your last failed friendship.

who do you wish you could connect with but haven’t been able to connect with?

what can make you excessively angry?

do you enjoy being lightheartedly teased? why or why not?

do you prefer to be numb or overly emotional? why?

what is a skill or talent you’ve completely lost or overlooked? why did that happen?

what was your favorite color as a child and what is your favorite color now?

what is something you can’t bring yourself to get rid of?

tell me something you don’t like telling the people you are close to.

tell me what you think others think about you.

[esamastation]

wvyld: Desmond wakes up in Angelgard — to find a guy in chains who feels Very Evil (daemons) to the Eagle Sense, but also. uhhhh. you know. it's just — the chains are going through his flesh it's. yeaah he may have to go against his intuition with this one, this is no way to treat an eldritch abomination....

Guess what I didn't write? Any of that. I did however write Desmond in FFXV. :D

-

He sleeps the deep, deep sleep of the Earth. He dreams of mountains, of ravines, of endless pressure and crushing weight. He sleeps, and dreams, and his dreams have the weight of gravity, the drag of continental plates, the churning of magma and rattling of earthquakes. They're slow dreams but they're not peaceful.

They're also never enough to distract him from the weight still resting on his shoulders. The weight he can never put down. The heat of it pounds down on him, burning him, crushing him. Weight and heat are the same, when you really think about it. Mass makes gravity makes pressure makes fire makes explosion. Gravity makes stars. Makes planets. Makes earth. It's all the same.

There's always some weight upon him. That is his task and nature, as an Astral. A shitty gig, if there ever was one.

He breathes in deep and then falls deeper into slumber. Deep into memories of other worlds and other planets and man that once was and doesn't really matter anymore. The Meteor is heavy, heavy, heavy, burning, burning, burning. He sleeps and dreams deep, deep, deep.

And then someone Sings with the Voice of Stars and drags him from Beneath - and for the first time in eons, Awakens him.

It's not a pleasant feeling, to become aware once more under all the weight of the Cosmos' Rage.

"God of the Earth I beseech you!" A small voice calls out from somewhere below. "Enter into a covenant with the Chosen King so that he may reclaim the Stone and purge the Darkness from our Star!"

It takes a moment - a stretch and press of time dilation under weight of infinite gravity - to remember what speech is. What the little voice is saying makes no sense, even then. "WHAT," he says, with the Meteor roaring like hellfire in his ear, deafening him.

There's a little human somewhere near his feet, tiny, tiny thing, blond and pale and wearing white. She reminds him of something from eons ago.

"The Time of the Prophecy is at hand!" the human says, grand and commanding and barely audible. "The Darkness Eternal threatens our Star and only the King of Light may defeat it! To do that, he will have your power - you must enter into this covenant!"

The words make no sense. "WHAT KING?" he asks. "WHAT COVENANT? WHAT DARKNESS? THERE'S ONLY THIS DAMNED THING," he shifts under the weight of the Meteor. "AND THE ASSURED DESTRUCTION SHOULD I EVER PUT IT DOWN."

The little human wavers and he realises - his voice is too loud. He's shouting at her. His quietest voice is deafening to her. Even so, she keeps shouting back. "There are worse dangers now! Even now the Darkness grows stronger - every day, it claims more of our Star's Light. Without that Light, there is no Life, without Life, there is no future! The Meteor doesn't matter now - "

"THEN WHY THE FUCK AM I STILL HOLDING IT?" he asks sarcastically, and the little human is thrown back, faltering under his power. Oops. Poor thing. "WHAT IS THIS DARKNESS YOU FEAR SO MUCH, THEN? WHAT IS SO BAD THAT YOU'VE AWOKEN ME FROM DEEP SLEEP?"

The human struggles to her feet, using her little staff to prop herself up, and faces him with a stern look on her face. "It is the Scourge of Stars!" she says and lifts her staff. "I will Show you!"

And she does. She shows him a Disease. A plague that causes transformations and shadows, that infects flora and fauna and twists them into living ash. It makes monsters they call Daemons, and it has been coming up again and again for the last two thousand years. No one knows where it came from, but people have a Prophecy about it.

The Draconian made a Prophecy about it. Apparently that's what they call that guy now. And the little human - the Oracle? The Oracle tells it to him like he's supposed to know it. Like he's already part of it.

"I DON'T KNOW YOUR PROPHECY," the Archaean - that's what they call him now, apparently - answers. "I'VE NO PART IN IT. I WAS UNDER BURDEN BEFORE YOUR STARSCOURGE EVEN APPEARED. THE DRACONIAN'S WORDS, SPOKEN EONS HENCE, HOLD NO SWAY OVER ME."

The little human falters. "But - but the Cosmogony - the Prophecy says - "

The Archaean strains under the weight of the Meteor. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT A PROPHECY IS, LITTLE ONE? IT'S SOMEONE VOLUNTEERING SOMEONE ELSE FOR A TASK THEY THEMSELVES WILL NOT DO. THAT'S ALL."

The little human shakes her head. "No, no, it has to be the Chosen King, the Draconian said - "

"IF THE DRACONIAN REALLY WANTED THIS DARKNESS GONE, HE'D DO IT HIMSELF," the Archaean says, unamused. "HE CERTAINLY HAS THE POWER. JUST LOOK AT ME." He shrugs his shoulders and the Meteor upon them, sending tremors through the earth beneath his feet. "WHO DO YOU THINK CAST THIS THING UPON ME?"

The Oracle clutches on her staff, her eyes wide. "The Draconian sent the Meteor down upon us?" she asks, horrified, and falls to her knees. "W-what? No, that's not possible. I don't - that can't be."

Well. That seems rather telling and alarming.

The little Oracle can't take this conversation for long, it seems like - his voice is too much for her, as it tends to be for most humans. There's no way around it, though. He can't do much for her. The Archaean simply cannot put down his burdens, not for a long, long time, not until the half life of the damned thing runs its course. Until then, it's just him between the Meteor and Eos - and an explosion that would rock the whole solar system, if the two ever met.

He can, however, detach a small portion of himself to act as his avatar.

-

"Well, don't you look far less tiny from this angle, huh," the Messenger says, cracking his neck and getting used to being human sized again. "Hello, Oracle."

The Oracle stares at him, wide eyed. "You - you're the Archaean?"

"Small part of him. It's a bit of a long term gig, holding up the Meteor," the Messenger says and peers up at himself, standing tall as a mountain under the Meteor. Already his larger self is going back to slumber - much easier to bear the weight like that. "Six thousand years down," the Messenger says, shooting finger guns at himself. "Six million more to go."

"Y-you -" the Oracle stammers and then goes down into a bow. "My Lord, I am your humble servant - I beseech you to listen to me, for our blight is true and dire."

"I believe you believe that, and it probably is pretty bad," the Messenger says and motions to the Meteor. "But if that thing goes down, it will destroy this whole planet. Into itty bitty space dust," he adds, just to drive the point across. "So, no. There will be no Covenant. The Archaean will not move. Not for a long, long time."

The Oracle looks at him, stricken - her lips actually quiver. "B-but I foresaw - this is meant to happen - all the writings -" she trails away, staring at him. "Is it really impossible?"

"It really is. If it was possible to put down the Meteor, the Meteor would be down, trust me, and I'd not be here," the Messenger says and shakes his head. "I'm sorry - whatever the Draconian has been telling people, the Archaean has no part in it. Our hands are tied."

The Oracle looks at him like she's going to cry. "I - all my life I've been preparing - training for this moment - I was supposed to awaken all the Artrals for Noctis - I -" she stops, drawing a hitching breath. "It's all been for naught - the Darkness will win? Our star will be destroyed?"

"Okay, okay, let's back up a bit," the Messenger says with some alarm, lifting his hands soothingly to calm her. "Why don't you tell me about this terrible fate about to befall all of us, and we'll figure it out?"

So, she tells him. Faltering and stuttering, she tells him everything she knows.

It's a lot.

-

So maybe sleeping away the eons under the Meteor's weight wasn't the smartest idea. Turns out, he's missed a lot. Like, apparently, the Fall of Solheim? Which, in the human time frame, happened eons ago, of course - six thousand years is ancient time for humans. Since then, there's been other nations, empires, kingdoms - like the one they're currently in, the Kingdom of Lucis, the one the Draconian chose. Which has since fallen into ruin, because of war.

"So," the Messenger says. "There was a Chosen One who was supposed to be the first king of Lucis, but he got sick with this Starscourge and was betrayed, so he was made the Accursed instead and the Kings of Lucis descend from his brother, the usurper. And now the current last heir to the throne is supposed to kill his many, many times grand uncle to defeat the Scourge once and for all. With Astral's power and the Crystal."

The Oracle, now sitting down on a rocky ledge looking small and sad and hopeless, nods.

The Messenger rubs at his forehead. "And that didn't clue you in to the fact that Draconian is making this shit up as he goes along?"

The Oracle's shoulders slump. "Gods are fallible, I know," she says. "But I thought the Revelation of Bahamut was true. Everyone always said it was. Even the Kings of Lucis believe in it, and they're the closest to him."

"Sounds to me like nothing is true, really," the Messenger muses. "But okay. I have a question - what, exactly, is the Crystal you keep mentioning?"

The Oracle looks up, and sort of sputters at him. "It - what - how can you not - " she chokes out. "It's the Heart of our Star - "

"The heart of a Star is mostly hydrogen and helium and thermonuclear fusion under pressure," the Messenger says and folds his arms. "I've never heard of this Crystal of yours. Is it something the Draconian made, maybe?"

"I-it was gifted to mankind so that we may know lasting prosperity -" the Oracle says before faltering and frowning at her own knees, confused. "It gives powers to the Kings of Lucis. It has protected the Kingdom for centuries, and they have protected it. I don't…"

The Messenger scratches at his neck, not sure what to tell her. It sounds like a lot of stuff the Astrals can do. The Archaean could probably whip up a magical rock too, if he wasn't under a bit of pressure at the moment. Well, he could probably still do it.

Under pressure is how gems were made.

Bit beside the point, though.

The Oracle looks up at him, actual tears in her eyes. "Everything I have been told my whole life is a lie, isn't it?" she asks as the tears spill out. "The Revelation of Bahamut is a lie. The Draconian dwells in the Crystal, it's his chamber, his fortress and for two thousand years the Kings of Lucis have bled for its upkeep."

Ouch. "Don't know what to tell you, Lady, this is all news to me," the Messenger says awkwardly. "Maybe we should set the whole… existential horror aside for a moment. Tell me more about this Accursed."

-

Six thousand years he bore the weight of the Meteor just fine. Now that he's stepped away from it, this is what he gets from it - a tension headache.

"So this guy was a healer fighting this Scourge, he was the Chosen One, supposed to be the king, the First King of Lucis, this great magical nation to be…" the Messenger says, just to clarify, while rubbing at his temple. "And then he was betrayed, usurped, and kept prisoner and tortured by the Kings of Lucis for two thousand years."

The Oracle nods slowly.

The Messenger hums in understanding. "Yeah, I kind of see where he's coming from."

The Oracle winces. "Yes, same," she admits with a sigh and then continues her increasingly depressing explanation of all the things he'd missed.

It's getting late by the time he has the full picture. Time is relative when you're Ancient Astral Being, or whatever, but as a Messenger he experiences daylight the same as your regular humans and the sun is going down below the horizon. Which apparently means the Daemons of the Star Scourge are going to come out.

"Alrighty, I want to see these Daemons and the Scourge for myself," the Messenger says, stretching his arms. "I'm guessing the radiation from the Meteor is keeping them away from here?"

"The light, yes," the Oracle says, lifting her staff. "I have the power to keep them at bay. I can also create Havens, sacred ground that will repel them."

"Neat - don't do that just yet, though, I want to see them," the Messenger says. "After that we can hopefully figure out something that won't involve the Archaean's power."

"Right," the Oracle says, taking a slow breath to steel herself, preparing to lever herself back to her feet with her staff. "I will do all I can, even - even if I cannot fulfil my original duty. I will do everything I can to cure our star."

"That's the spirit," the Messenger says and holds out a hand to her. "By the way, never caught your name."

"Lunafreya - Lunafreya Nox Fleuret," the Oracle says and takes his hand. "And you, my lord - what can I call you?"

"Not your lord, for a start," the Messenger says and pulls her up and to her feet, thinking of a name. Oh, well, why fix what's not broken. "Call me Desmond. Now, what say you we get out of here Lunafreya?"

Lunafreya nods and follows him away from the crater. Behind them the Archaean stands still, steadfastly shouldering his stellar burden, like he always did. Desmond casts him a last look, shaking his head - the last six thousand years had not been kind to him. The Meteor's radiation really brought out the Isu in him too, it looks like. Awkward.

One of these days he would stop being such a sucker about world ending disasters. One of these days.

Not today though.

-

Lol. Lmao even.

Here you can see in real time my daily word limit coming at me as I pass it somewhere in the middle of this and the writing starts getting increasingly nonsensical as it goes on. Anyway. Desmond as the Archaean, just because the white streaks on Titan made me go 👀

Also we're just ignoring Gentiana's existence here entirely. And pretty much all sense and logic.

It's 2 a.m. I'm tired.

[sugarplumkneecaps]

Memories (Shadow x Reader)

Pairing: Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader (gender neutral) → Can be read as platonic or romantic Word Count: 3.4k T/W: loss, mentions of death (previous to story) Summary: It's New Year's Eve and life has been quite peaceful for the last few months following Dr. Eggman's defeat (again). You work up the courage to invite Shadow over, but he seems to be a bit distracted...

SQUEEE- the marker squealed as another day was crossed off the paper calendar hung on the wall in the hallway. The end of the year had come much sooner than Shadow expected. It felt as though most of his days blurred together, the mundane routine turning his concept of time on its head. At one point in his life, he had longed for the same sense of normalcy that Rouge had mentioned long ago. But this? This was torturous. He replaced the cap of the pen and hung it back up with the calendar before moving into the kitchen of his apartment with a great deal of reluctance. He had yet to go grocery shopping, making his usual routine of finding breakfast somewhat more adventurous than he had the energy for this morning.

Rouge had urged for him to rent the apartment and get his current job following their efforts to put a stop to Robotnik’s world ending plans. “I think you are long overdue for a taste of normal life Shadow,” Rouge had cooed at him.

He scoffed at the memory, taking in the view of his living space as he exited the kitchen with a sad bagel topped with cream cheese (making a mental note to stop by the corner store to grab something to fill him up a bit). His apartment wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t anything grand either. His living room could fit a single, plush couch across from a TV, record player, and his plant. The walls were lined with records that were regularly rotated out every week. He had direct access to his small breakfast nook and kitchen due to the open layout, which he enjoyed. It allowed for him to sit and enjoy his music as he ate or cooked. The hallway led to his room, office, and bathroom, all neat and tidy in their own respective manners. It was comfortable for him, mostly due to never expecting any real company over.

The size of it also meant that rent was cheap, which was good as all of his paycheck from the cafe only had to go towards every day living expenses (at the behest of a certain bat, once again, advising him to save his payout from their more intensive work). Shadow couldn’t deny the merit of her words; the higher paying work had slowed down significantly. Preventing world domination for the upteenth time seemed to discourage others from another attempt too soon.

Shadow finished his breakfast and headed toward the front door, slipping on his shoes before starting his commute to work which was only a short walk from his place. He let out a long sigh as he locked the front door behind him, nearly running into you as he turned toward the stairwell.

“Oh! Uh- Sorry, Shadow. I didn’t see you there,” you stuttered, embarrassment dripping from each word. You had been neighbors for a few months now, excited and yet intimidated by the proximity you had with him. It was simply chance that you two had even met in the first place, what with Infinite sparing you and the events that followed; you had somehow become an integral part of Sonic and his cohorts’ plan to bring Dr. Eggman to a halt. But the fact that Shadow not only worked with you at the local cafe but had also moved in next door to you so soon after felt too good to be true.

“All good. See you at work,” his voice somewhat hushed and low before he continued on his way. Burying his hands in his pockets, his steps covered an impressive distance in only a few minutes, Shadow’s mind wandering. He had also taken note of you - your impressive feats to aid them in their world saving efforts all the way down to your also somewhat mundane ritualistic activities. You both worked behind the counter at the cafe; him focusing more on brewing orders while you handled customers. He was always curious how you managed it with a smile on your face most days; the idea of switching spots with you was enough to make him shudder, shaking his head in effort to rid himself of the idea.

“Oh Shadow, people aren’t all bad!” Maria’s voice echoed. Shadow stopped dead in his tracks, the sudden flashback startling him. Why would he remember that now, of all times and places?

You weren’t too far behind Shadow, but you swore he glided to work effortlessly even without his air shoes. It wasn’t until he paused that you were able to catch up with him, letting out a small chuckle as you bumped shoulders with him lightly. This seemed to pull him out of his daze.

“C’mon, spacey, we don’t want to be late. I still owe you a breakfast sandwich for yesterday!”

“Wait- what? What are you talking about?”

You turned to look at the dark hedgehog, a smile creeping on your lips, “you saved me from that older gentleman, remember? He was making all sorts of comments-“

Shadow let out a “tch-“ sound before furrowing his eyebrows further, “Oh. You don’t owe me anything for that. You seemed uncomfortable.” His pace picked up a bit, causing you to need to start into a light jog to keep pace with him.

“I mean- yeah. He was being a bit creepy.” You huffed out a breath, once again embarrassed only this time by how winded keeping up with Shadow made you. “Hey, could you slow down a bit? We aren’t running that late or anything.”

Shadow eyed you from the side, smirking slightly before slowing his pace, “well, lucky for you, we’re here.” He motioned toward the building in front of you both, windows lining the outside to reveal the dark seating area of the cafe. You let out an exaggerated huff in an effort to make light of your winded state before digging in your bag for the keys to the front door. After wrestling with the key for a moment, you were able to unlock the building and begin setting up to open.

“Hey Shadow, I’ve been meaning to ask, how do you like your coffee?”

Shadow paused for a moment while he removed the chairs from atop their respective tables, pushing them in and moving on to the next methodically, “black, which I’m sure you probably could’ve guessed.”

“Ah- right. My bad. That does seem too fitting to not be obvious, huh?” you laughed shyly, starting the brew and selecting a breakfast sandwich to heat up for your counterpart. Man, you’re really going 3 for 3 this morning, huh? Your head hung low before rolling your shoulders back. This is your last chance to invite him, don’t screw it up!

The oven chimed as an indicator that Shadow’s sandwich was done, encouraging you to work up a bit of courage to not only present the seemingly unnecessary gesture but to also address him. You plated the sandwich and placed it on the table Shadow had just cleared off.

“Your breakfast, my good sir!” you bowed dramatically, getting a strained chuckle in response from Shadow. Clearing your throat, you figured now was as good a time as any, “I wanted to ask you something.”

Shadow sat in the chair in front of the sandwich, thankful that he wouldn’t have to resort to the corner store option, “hmm?”

You waited a moment to see if his gaze would meet yours, only to realize after a few bites in that your gesture maybe wasn’t as unwanted as he made it seem. “Well, see, I am going to be having a few people over later tonight to celebrate New Years. Rouge, Silver, maybe a few others, and uhm-“ you gulped, your mouth dry as your original, short invitation started to take a turn for the worse. “And... you? If you’d like to come?” Your ears drooped a tiny bit, your body subconsciously preparing for the inevitable rejection you were sure you would face.

Much to your surprise though, Shadow paused his chewing to look at you, “Yeah. I could stop by.” He continued to eat, completely unfazed by your shock at his response.

“Really?? That’s great! I mean- that’s, uhm, yeah! The party starts at 8PM!”

Shadow said nothing, which you took in stride, practically twirling as you went to grab him a coffee.

The work day somehow dragged on and yet also was over before either of you knew it. Shadow was appreciative of the routine of brewing the coffee, cleaning the machine, collecting dishware, and starting over as it allowed him to shut his brain off. It seemed to be determined to pull the rug out from under him today considering his flashback earlier. Memories of Maria weren’t unwelcome by any means, but Shadow recognized his emotional responses to them weren’t necessarily appropriate at work. He could have contemplated the reason behind their resurgence, but he simply chalked it up to his recent living situation changes, unwilling to dig deeper than that. Although, he might not have been too far off.

Rouge wasn’t the only one Shadow had heard speak of normalcy longingly; Maria’s illness was better managed whilst in the care of her grandfather, but that didn’t mean she got to experience much of a normal childhood as other kids her age did. She was at the mercy of her grandfather’s schedule and her small living quarters. “I know it seems silly,” she would say softly, “but sometimes I miss going to school. I miss riding the bus. I miss running through flower fields and my parents yelling for me when the street lights came on.” These concepts had meant very little to Shadow at the time, but as life had settled around him, he couldn’t help but wish he could show Maria that he was trying to live each day with her in mind.

The New Year creeping up on him was maybe too much of a reminder that he hadn’t done that great of a job to really appreciate the peace he had recently found. All he could hope for is that the party tonight would not be something he would regret agreeing to. I’ll make a promise to Maria that I will do better in the coming year.

You stared at your reflection for far too long. Clothes were strewn about your bed, all rejected options for tonight’s celebration. “You don’t need to overdo it!” you said to yourself, gripping the jeans in your hands. “Just wear the stupid jeans and find a comfy sweater. This isn’t meant to be some crazy thing.”

A knock on your door indicated that you didn’t have time to continue to bemoan over your lackluster wardrobe any longer. Throwing on the clothes in hand and quickly fluffing your hair, you made your way to the front door to greet your first guest. To your surprise, Shadow greeted you with a bottle of champaign.

“Hope this is okay,” he said, looking you over subtly. He was dressed in a pair of dark slacks, a turtleneck sweater, and a nice blazer. You could feel the dread set in once again before mentally shaking yourself out of it, “yes! This is fine! Thank you, you really didn’t have to bring anything.” You welcomed him inside and placed the champaign on the kitchen counter before turning to pull refreshments from the pantry and fridge.

Shadow stood next to the door as he watched you move about your apartment, removing his blazer and placing it in the crook of his arm. Your own apartment wasn’t much different than his, the layout the same, but flipped. It seemed much more suitable to host guests than his own, he noted, as he moved across the living room to where you were at in the kitchen. He hung his blazer along the back of one of the dining room chairs before holding his hands out to you. By this point, you were struggling to move the punch bowl, having filled it prematurely and realizing you would have to move the full thing to its proper place. Shadow’s outstretched arms took you by surprise but you did not refuse the help. You gingerly placed the bowl into Shadow’s arms, “thanks- uhm, you can set it on the bar counter next to the cups.”

He nodded and placed the bowl with ease, something you were quite jealous of. His otherworldly strength was quite useful while you two worked together, as he did a majority of the heavy lifting when food shipments arrived. Of course the simple task of moving the punch bowl would be easy for him. You laughed at yourself quietly at the thought and quickly turned away to continue setup.

It did not take long for the other fantastic mobians to join you both, the space of your apartment quickly filling with sounds of chatter and laughter. As the festivities kicked off, you began to notice that Shadow wasn’t really interacting with anyone (except for Rouge every now and again when she would seek him out). You had made a mental note to check in with him, but were quickly swept away to host.

You had never quite pulled something like this off, and the constant interaction was quickly draining your own social battery. Chaos, if I’m feeling this way I can only imagine how Shadow is doing. The thought prompted a quick scan of the apartment, but Shadow was nowhere to be seen. Your brows creased with concern, hoping he hadn’t left without saying anything. However, your search would need to wait as you felt an intense need to step outside for a bit of fresh air. You checked in with Tails, asking for him to keep an eye on things while you stepped out, to which he smiled at you and told you not to worry.

One of your favorite parts about this apartment was access to a private balcony. It wasn’t anything impressive but it made for a nice getaway when you needed it. You pulled on the door, struggling as it stuck to the doorway before prying it open and prompting Shadow to turn around to face you.

“Oh- sorry! I didn’t mean to, uhm-“ you gulped, startled by his presence. Why was talking to him always so nerve-wracking? “I just needed some fresh air.”

You watched as Shadow shifted over to allow some space to join him, “be my guest.”

Struggling again to close the door behind you, you moved next to him to rest your arms on the railing. Your eyes gravitated toward the sky, catching sporadic flashes of light from fireworks far off in the distance. The cool night air was a refreshing contrast from the sudden stuffiness in your small apartment and almost immediately your body relaxed. It was only at that point that you were able to take a deep breath and really released the subconscious tension you held in your shoulders since everyone arrived.

“Quite the turnout, huh?” you offered, shifting your gaze to Shadow.

He stood unmoving, his eyes now fixated on the sky above him. The stars lit up their dark backdrop, competing only with the bursts of fireworks every now and again. Shadow hadn’t seen the night sky like this in what felt like a lifetime. He had his own balcony but rarely ever used it, having forgotten it was there for the most part. In his solitude, he had very little reason to occupy the space.

The silence between you two and his unbroken focus on the sky brought you to look up again. This moment was not unwelcome nor awkward like you feared it might be. You felt a wave of comfort wash over you as you listened to the muffled sounds of your friends indoors alongside the chirping of crickets and popping of fireworks.

Shadow finally acknowledged his lack of a response to you, shifting slightly and clearing his throat, “I wonder if Maria had gotten to experience a New Years like this.” Taken aback by this vulnerability, you turned to Shadow again.

Maria. That was a familiar name in regards to the dark hedgehog. You knew she was the only friend he had before he was captured by GUN, having suffered a horrendous fate at the organization’s hand. You contemplated if she was the reason for his more prominent standoffish behavior tonight.

“This place reminds you of her, doesn’t it?” The words came out as hardly anything more than whisper, your effort to come across as tender shining through.

You watched as Shadow winced, moving his hands to interlock his fingers. “Not just this place.” He took a deep breath, as if calculating how much he wanted to divulge to you. “Everything and everywhere does...”

His voice was low and barely audible in comparison to the world around you. Shadow had been carrying the weight of Maria’s death with him through life, a feeling you could only imagine. His ears drooped slightly as his gaze shifted downward to his hands. He studied their shape, taking note of his inhibitor rings and the creases along his fingers, trying to remember what Maria’s felt like. With another small breath, he continued, “memories of her are in everything.”

To say you were stunned would be the understatement of the century. You took in the scene of Shadow, arms resting on the railing in front of him, the fingers of one of his hands tracing the other, his demeanor sad and sincere. You placed your hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. His eyes lifted to meet your own, his gaze years away as tears pooled and fell along his cheek. You smiled at him, pulling him gently toward you.

He hesitated at first before accepting your embrace. You held each other there for a moment, searching for the right words to say in response to his. Everything seemed to come up short, in your mind, sounding way too cheesy and cliche to truly convey your desire to comfort Shadow. Against your better judgment, you pulled away to look at him.

“I think... that’s how you help keep their memory alive. You carry them with you in some capacity. You associate certain things in life to them, and you cherish those things more than you would have otherwise.”

You paused, searching his expression in an effort to ensure you weren’t overstepping. He stared back at you, his usual scowl nowhere to be seen, his expression softer than you had seen before.

“Maybe it also helps us live life to the fullest and not take things for granted.”

He nodded slowly, your words sinking in as he stepped out of your arms to look at the sky again.

“She would have wanted me to enjoy life,” he said thoughtfully. Shadow took a deep breath before looking at you once again, a timid smile playing on his lips. “Thank you.”

You returned his smile in kind, imprinting this moment to memory for you to cherish always. After a brief pause, you offered your hand to him, “what do you say we go back in?”

He looked down at your hand and nodded, wiping the tears from his face and giving the night sky another glance. Shadow would have to remember to spruce up his own balcony to enjoy the stars.

Your fingers intertwined with his as you started to head back inside; the backdoor being of no issue for Shadow (of course) to pull open and close shut with ease. He let go of your hand after giving it a light squeeze and moved through the group to find Rouge of his own accord, smiling back at you. Sonic approached you, taking note of the interaction, “wow, never thought that guy could actually smile! You sure we don’t have a SUPER faker among us?”

Your elbow jabbed into Sonic’s arm playfully as you laughed and shook your head.

As midnight approached, you all gathered around the TV in the living room and counted down the New Year. Shadow closed his eyes, allowing Rouge to shake him as she joined the others in celebrating. His eyes opened and rested their gaze on you, watching as you cheered alongside everyone. It was then that he decided; he was going to make sure he did everything he could to appreciate his newfound friends and peaceful existence, just the way he hoped Maria would have wanted him to.

[rosenclaws]

Would You Fall In Love with Me Again || Worst!Logan x Reader

Would you fall in love with me again If you knew all I've done? The things I cannot change Would you love me all the same? I know that you've been waiting, waiting for love

warnings: angsty af, happy ending, sad logan.

wc: 1.5k

a/n: I heard this song and immediately pictured Logan so this fic was cooked up! I hope y'all like it <3 I'd recommend listening to the song while reading or before or after! Its a great musical btw

Logan holds the small piece of paper in his hands. It's been crumpled and flattened countless times. He turns it over in his hands, the faded black in is just bright enough to read. He glances down at it again. Written on it is an address. Laura's words playing over and over in his head.

Find her. She would want to see you.

Would you? Would you want to see him? He's not the same man that you knew. He's not your man. He's not the hero you remember. He's just a broken, tired, old man. He's a coward.

Laura gave him your address shortly after he came to his world. But he never went. He was afraid. This tiny slip of paper would keep him up at night. If the nightmares didn't get to him first than this stupid, little paper did. He debated on throwing it away.

You didn't need him. You were better off without him. But was he? You were his better half. Always had been. Just one look, a meeting. Closure. So he set off to find you one last time.

Each foot step weighs heavy as he marches to your front door. A small cabin tucked away from the the busy town only a few miles away. This is his handiwork. Logan always promised you that he'd build you a house one day, when you two were done with all the X-Men bullshit.

He had already written out the plans back before...before he lost you. Initials are carved into one of the wood boards. His fingers running over the letters, tracing them as his mind floods with memories of you.

He raises his fist and knocks at your door. His ears straining to hear you move behind the wooden door. Though if you didn't answer he couldn't blame you. He's the ghost of the man you once loved standing on your doorstep. He waits and waits and nothing.

His shoulders sag in defeat. What was he thinking? This was stupid. He takes the paper and crumbles it up in his hands, throwing it as far as he could into the woods.

"Pretty sure that's littering." He freezes at the sound of your voice. He knows it's you. He doesn't need to see your face, this voice had been haunting his nightmares for years.

"Logan?" He nearly falls to his knees. His name sounds so sweet coming from your lips. He hasn't heard it in so long. Ever so slowly he turns around, a part of him afraid this is another dream.

"Is it really you?" You're holding a grocery bag, dressed up for the cold weather. He's frozen as you walk up to him. Your eyes shine with tears as your hand reaches out for him.

"Please tell me its you." Your hand cups his face.

Thumb lightly brushing over his face. He looks different. He looks tired. So much pain behind those gorgeous eyes. He melts into your touch. He clenches his fists at his side as he leans his head into your hand.

"My love, how I've missed you." Logan opens his eyes to see the wedding band sitting on your finger. He never got the chance to give that to you.

"Sweetheart...I'm not the same man." He wishes he was. God he wishes he could sweep you up in his arms. Runaway and live in this cabin for all eternity. You smile softly. Your hand leaves his face and he visibly sinks.

"Come inside yeah?" Without thinking he takes the grocery bag out of your hands and follows you inside. There's not much inside.

"Laura told me about you, she sent letters when she came back." You explain as you reach into the fridge and pull out a beer, his favorite.

"I buy a new pack every week, in case you ever showed up." You smile when you talk but Logan can only focus on the bottle in front of him. The guilt eating him alive.

"I'm so sorry." He chokes out.

"For what?" You ask. He looks at you in disbelief, how could you be so forgiving, so welcoming.

"I'm not your husband. I-I'm not the man you fell in love with." He places the beer on the counter. If he closes his eyes he can picture you and him in this little cabin. Be the family you both always wanted. But he's not yours.

"I know you aren't. I'm not a fool Logan. But..." He's not your husband, he's different. He's not a replacement for the man you once loved but your love for Logan was stronger than anything you've ever felt.

"Would you fall in love with me again? You don't know what I've done. I'm not worthy of the love you gave to him." A tear slips down Logan's face.

He sinks to the ground, on his knees. Silently begging to be loved by you once again. The shame of his past chains him to the ground, he can't even look at you.

"What did you do my love?" You cup his face and tilt his head up.

"I lost you, I lost everyone. I can still smell your blood, I can still hear your voice calling to me. But I walked away." He grabs onto your wrists and holds onto them desperately.

"I walked away from you." You wipe away a tear that falls down his cheeks. His normally stoic face crumbles into a mess of despair and loneliness.

"I needed to numb myself. I started drinking, I started killing. I left a trail of blood in my wake." He expects you to cower away from him. To be disgusted with what he's done.

"Once I started, I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. I was so angry, so buried in my grief that the only thing I could feel was rage." The grip on your wrists is firm and tight. Not to the point of pain but he's locked around your hands. Please don't leave him again, please.

"Forgive me." You drop his face and it hangs low, ashamed of what he's revealed to you. You've been waiting for him, all this time only to come and disappoint you.

"If you think that's true, that you're not the same man I feel in love with. Then leave."

"W-What?" He's taken aback.

"You want me to leave?"

"I don't want you to leave but you keep saying you're not the same man. So if you truly believe that, than leave." Logan is stunned to silence.

"No." He says without thinking. He's spent every night missing you, thinking of you. You're here in front of him, it's not the same you but he still loves you. He will always love you.

"I can't leave you, I just found you again I...I won't." He stands up and takes your hand.

"This wedding band, I bought it after out first date. I knew, that I was in love with you but I was so scared to lose you." Tears fall down your face as he presses your hand against his face.

"I ended up losing you anyways."

"He told me that story when he proposed." You say softly. He may be from another universe but he will always be the love of your life.

"You asked if I'd fall for you again, how could I not?" He presses his forehead to yours, noses knocking together as you get to take in the man before you.

"I will always love you. I don't care how you got here, where you're from or what you've done. " You close your eyes as Logan wraps you up in his arms. Holding you close as he whispers apologies.

"No matter how long its been, you're mine." You kiss Logan fiercely, tasting the man who you've longed to hold in your arms again.

He's equally as desperate to feel you. His hands squeezing your sides gently as he walks you back until you hit the wall. Your hands run through his hair, the feeling of your wedding band in his hair only eggs him on.

Silently he thanks the universe for bringing him to you, for your forgiving, loving nature. He would have begged on his knees for a chance like this. He growls when you tug on his hair. His hand slipping up your shirt just to feel your skin. When you finally part he refuses to stay too far.

"Tell me Logan, how long as it been." Your heart aches to think of the pain he's been through. The life he's had to live without anyone to calm his self loathing thoughts.

"I can't even remember." He sounds so tired as he buries his face in your neck.

"It's okay, I'm here now."

"I love you." He whispers, a sense of relief washing over him as he utters the words he thought he'd never get to say again.

You had been waiting for him to come home and you would have waited until the day you too your last breath. He's worth it, all that waiting was worth it for you to call Logan yours.

"I love you too Logan, forever."

[clarkeyhill]

Not the same | George Clarke

Angst.

Since George's social media had grown you never had time for eachother, his demeanour changed and he just wasn't the same George you met that night in Soho. Creating an ultimatum.

The words hung between us like a fragile thread, threatening to snap.

“I love you,” I said softly, my voice breaking as the tears welled up in my eyes. “But you’re not the person I fell in love with.”

George’s face was a mixture of confusion and pain, his brows furrowing as he tried to process my words. He looked like he wanted to say something, to argue or deny it, but instead, he just stood there, silent.

We were in the living room of the apartment we’d once made ours—a place filled with memories of quiet mornings, shared laughter, and whispered confessions. Now, it felt like a shell, the echoes of those moments haunting us like ghosts.

“What…what does that mean?” he finally asked, his voice hoarse.

I wiped my eyes, trying to steady myself. “It means…we’ve changed. You’ve changed. And maybe I have, too.”

His jaw clenched. “So, what? You’re just giving up on us?”

“No,” I said quickly, almost pleading. “I’m not giving up. I’ve been holding on, George. For so long, I’ve been holding on, hoping things would go back to the way they were. But they haven’t. And I don’t think they will.”

He stepped closer, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for mine. “We can fix this,” he said, his tone desperate. “Whatever it is, we can fix it. Just tell me what you need.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that we could patch up the cracks, that the pieces of us would fit back together. But deep down, I knew the truth.

“It’s not something you can fix,” I whispered. “You’re not the same person you were when we met. And…I don’t know if I am, either.”

George let go of my hands, stepping back as if my words had physically pushed him. “So that’s it?” he said bitterly. “I’m not ‘good enough’ for you anymore?”

“No, that’s not it!” I said, my voice rising. “This isn’t about being ‘good enough.’ It’s about us. About how we’ve grown into people who don’t…fit anymore.”

His eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, I saw the person he’d become—the one who snapped more often, who shut me out when I tried to reach him, who had let the weight of the world crush the lightness we once shared.

But beneath the anger was something deeper: heartbreak.

“You don’t even see it, do you?” he said quietly. “How hard I’ve been trying? How much I’ve been fighting to keep us together?”

My chest tightened. “I see it,” I said. “And I’ve been trying, too. But love isn’t enough if we’re not the same people who built this relationship in the first place.”

Silence settled over us, heavy and suffocating.

George ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he admitted. “I love you. I’ll always love you. But if you’re telling me I’m not the man you fell in love with, then maybe you’re not the person I thought you were, either.”

The words hit me like a slap, but I couldn’t deny the truth in them. We had both changed, in ways that had pulled us apart instead of bringing us closer.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

George nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Yeah,” he said, his voice cracking. “Me too.”

I watched as he turned and walked away, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing in the emptiness of the room.

I sat down on the couch, my heart aching with the weight of what we’d lost. I still loved him. I probably always would. But love alone hadn’t been enough to keep us together.

And as the hours passed, I realized that letting go of someone you still love might be the hardest thing in the world—but sometimes, it’s the only choice you have.

[mahojelly92]

Beneath It All

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: Kind of a selfish fic bc I had some family issues a while back. Here's some Schlatt bf comfort. Reader is gender neutral. Hope you enjoy!

Content warning: family issues and verbal fighting

The shouts of your family echoed in your ears, pounding in your head and tearing into you. You stand helplessly in the middle of the living room, shoulders scrunched up towards your ears and teeth mashed together as your dad lays into you. It's not like you did anything wrong. A simple miscommunication turned into a screaming match between your relatives. Add alcohol into the mix and the issue only increased ten fold. Everyone is blaming each other, talking over one another like pigs at a feeding trough. Their words cut into you, raising the hair on the back of your neck and making your stomach churn.

Your knees lock as you stand there frozen, unable to think straight as the screams just keep coming. Your dad didn't even let you get a word in. Tears ran down your cheeks like a fountain and your face was on fire. You were so sick of this. Would it ever end?

Your mind drifts to your boyfriend in the other room, sleeping away as you're stuck in here caught up in all this. He had gone to bed long before the room grew tense, long before the alcohol had its effect. That couldn't be helped now because the volume of your dad's cries and complaints only grew louder with each passing second you stayed quiet.

Will you ever get to sleep now? There was no point. The last time your dad started something like this, the memory of his crazy eyes haunted you until the sun came up.

Suddenly, you hear a booming voice come from the bedroom behind you.

“Hey!” You flinch and whip your head around. The room goes silent. Schlatt stands in the doorway of your bedroom, hands on hips and hair disheveled, his face contorted into a scowl. He's wearing his plaid pajama pants and a loose black t-shirt.

“What the hell is going on? It's fucking two in the morning.” You glance back at Jay, relieved by his presence, a calming contrast to the lingering tension in the air.

He knew what your family was like. You had warned him time and time again that they were too much to handle, even for you, but he insisted on meeting them like any good boyfriend would. You told him stories of your asshole dad to try and ween him off the idea, but that only pushed him further. And now you're two years down the line with the same old family problems as before, except now you had an outlet, an escape from everything.

Schlatt ducks his head under the doorframe and calmly walks over to you, pressing a gentle hand on the small of your back. He darts his eyes around the room, taking in your dad's stiff demeanor as he pulls you closer to him. Your dad stutters as Jay's eyes pierce into his, making your dad's head fall in defeat. He could almost chuckle at the way they were all standing there. The cowards. He knew he intimidated them in that moment, putting them in their place -- only if it was for just a second. Good, to hell with them.

“We're going to bed.” He says sternly, sleepyness and anger taking over his words.

Tears sting your eyes as he walks you out of the living room and into the bedroom. He keeps a firm hand on you, never letting go until the door clicks behind you. Jay's grip on the door handle tightens as another string of screams howl from the other side. They never give up, do they? You tense again, your shoulders shaking violently as you hug yourself.

“Baby…” Jay coos softly and looks back at you, his eyes softening as you bite down on your lip, feeling the blood vessels curdle between your teeth. His eyes are etched with worry, feeling helpless as he watches your small frame crumble before him.

“I just want it to stop.” You sob, tightening your grip at your sides and looking down at the floor.

“I know, sweetheart.” Jay unclenches the door handle and turns to hug you, wrapping his big warm arms around your back. You untangle yourself and cry into him, shaking and nuzzling your face into his chest. You hope his shirt can soak up all the tears and pain and hurt from tonight, just so you can wake up tomorrow and pretend like nothing ever happened.

If only it were that easy. This was the reality you lived in when you came home. It was a destructive cycle that never ended.

Jay strokes your hair gently as you cry. He pulls you closer to him with each sob you heave. He hums and rocks you side to side, easing your shaking shoulders slightly as he cradles you in his arms.

Eventually you exhaust yourself, pulling back and staring at Jay's face numbly. He kisses your forehead and wipes the remaining tears trickling down your cheeks. The screaming continues in the other room, except now it’s muffled from your fatigue and frustration.

Schlatt says nothing. He just gently coaxes you into the bathroom and washes your swollen eyes with a cool cloth, running it over the back of your neck, too. For the first time tonight, you breathe out heavily, letting all the pent up air in your lungs go. At least you were fortunate enough to have one person in your life who you love and trust. He stares at you in the mirror as you absent-mindedly brush your teeth. He flips your hair back from your face and tosses it gently over your shoulder, his soft touch lingering on your neck. A small smile plays at his lips as he admires the beautiful woman in the mirror. All you can see is a shell of your former self, a hallow version of the girl you once were.

He kisses your temple slowly, gingerly, lovingly -- until you feel just a little lighter. You put down your toothbrush and turn your head up to his, giving him a weak smile.

This was all that you knew, all that you'd endured for so long. You were worried to death that he'd leave you the second it got too much for him, but no -- he stayed. He's stayed for years, never faltering or backing away from your family's bouts of insanity.

As you hobble to bed with Jay by your side, you feel your chest swell with emotion. How lucky you were to have him, to be with him for as long as you lived.

“Jay?” you ask, mumbling against the pillow.

“Yes, doll?” he stares at you with a smile, his face inches away from yours.

“Why do you put up with all this?”

“Because I love you.” He doesn't hesitate or search for his words. He just says it.

That was enough for you to break down again. But this time, it wasn't in anger or humiliation or sadness, but in joy and gratitude.

A tender finger brushes against your cheek again as your tears flow freely.

“What's the matter, baby?” Jay hums, his warm breath fanning over your face.

You shake your head, your emotions too great to bear. All you can do is crack a small smile, gaze into his eyes and say it back.

“I love you too.”

That night, you drift into a deep sleep in Schlatt's arms, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothing you. As you rest, your dreams are filled not with the pain and uncertainty of your family, but with the promise of a loving future with Schlatt.

[lvrstrsh]

the way this song is so fitting for the three arcane ships (caitvi, jayvik, timebomb) omg?? maybe not so much caitvi but during their breakup era yes a little bit.

"you're the best thing to ever happen to me but also the worst thing to ever happen to me. on that day when i met you, maybe i would rather that it never happened to me" is SOOOOOO JAYVIK CODED I'M ACTUALLY GONNA JUMP OUT A FUCKING WINDOW JAHHSWQO. viktor saved jayce from killing himself, helped him achieve his life's goal to channel magic. alternatively, jayce helped viktor to be more than just an assistant, gave him purpose and did with hextech what viktor always wanted to do: help people. HOWEVER, them meeting ultimately led to their deaths (actually erm i refuse to believe they're dead and prefer to believe they're in some higher form of existence giving each other cosmic backshots 💜). them meeting helped bring hextech to the world which, as it happens, was the beginning of the end. the formation of the hexcore, viktor turning into robotic jesus, starting the cult, the formation of the anomaly that sent jayce to the ruined dimension (poor guy also lost his mind) so although jayce was able to fulfill his life's dream, it also was the thing that ruined him. if they never met, this all could've been avoided, which is easily seen in the dimension ekko & heimerdinger were sent to. they were best friends, equals in the sense of intellect and generally just two halves of one whole (saw someone on insta relate them to the sin��x + cos ²x = 1 formula and gen crashed the fuck out) hence, the best and worst thing to ever happen to each other.

"why does hearing your name hurt me when it hides right there in the vicinity? what kind of emotion, is it hatred or pure sweetness when i hear your name?" we all know ekko and powder were childhood friends. due to a series of unfortunate events, powder was taken under silco's care — the same person who was the cause of vander's and benzo's death (who were like father figures to ekko). powder became jinx and was working for silco, who was using shimmer to exploit his own people. as ekko grew up, all he did was work to defeat the purpose jinx was working for. imagine how much it must hurt for him to know someone who meant sm to him is doing all this to his people. her name brings bitterness, but also the sweet press of memories of simpler times. then, obviously, ekko was sent to the other dimension. saw that other dimension have everything he ever wanted (except vi ☹️). powder was still HIS powder. his life was playing out just the way he wanted. however it wasn't REAL. he got a glimpse of what could've been. in that dimension ekko and powder grew up to fall in love. imagine coming from your reality where you're enemies, and the being sent to this one where you're lovers. but you can't stay, no matter how happy it makes you. he got a taste of the sweetness that could've been. then he had to go BACK to his reality, where he saw the same girl he could've fallen in love with try to kill herself. and, afterwards, when you've basically saved the world, you're left all alone and are led to believe she's dead (uhm which she's not trust 🙏)

i don't think i have to explain the 'worst of all blessings, the best of all curses' verse in relation to both the ships because AHHHHHWJWJWJWIWIWIWJSIQIQJWIIWIWSIJQIDBCIAOJW

alright guys anyways thank u for coming to my ted talk 😁

[pompomchihuahua]

So, I've seen a Twitter thread making the rounds about Yuichirou being in the right for not trusting Amane which you can read here. Overall, I think it nicely covered why Yuichirou was so "mean" to her: a strange woman shows up at their home trying to recruit two vulnerable 11-year-old boys who just lost their parents. She starts talking about demons and them being descended from swordsmen and being able to save people and in Muichirou's hopeful little heart it strikes a chord.

But Yuichirou says that he's certain she's just going to use them, that she's plotting something, which, from a story telling perspective, is an interesting seed to plant in the viewers mind.

What I mainly want to focus on in this thread is Kagaya Ubuyashiki, as he is the one who ultimately sends Amane to recruit the Tokitou twins (though, yes, she is complicit in the recruitment of child soldiers. The average age of soldiers in 1912 Japan was 17-20 not 11).

Putting aside that he ends up recruiting Muichirou anyway after he's made almost impossibly more vulnerable (just lost his last remaining family, critically injured, just lost his memories and also, once again, an 11 year old CHILD being coerced by an adult into fighting mythical monsters) Kagaya has a way of appearing to the Hashira at their most vulnerable moments to recruit them (aside from Rengoku who was basically born and raised into the role which is a whole other can of worms).

Another thing I'd like to point out is the cruelty and impracticality of final selection, something that is exemplified perfectly with Sabito. How many slayers with the potential to do something great's lives were wasted in final selection? Considering the sheer amount that goes in and how few come out and the lack of any kind of age limit, I'm going to guess quite a few. Why exactly is the system set up like this?

They essentially set up a demon buffet featuring children as the main course. Did they know about the demon growing out of control on the final selection grounds? Most likely, and if not that's highly irresponsible to not at least monitor your supposed testing grounds.

Why not have them fight against other, higher-level slayers? If they fail the test, they'd be sent back into training or dismissed entirely instead of just... killed. And Ubuyashiki seems fine with this! And I'm truly curious- he mentions memorizing the names of every slayer that dies in the line of duty, but does that include the dozens of people that don't even get to become official slayers because they die in the very baffling final selection meat grinder?

I'm getting off track.

What I mean is that Ubuyashiki is shown to have questionable moral decision-making when it comes to the pursuit of defeating Muzan: it seems his goal is to kill Muzan at all costs.

Later, Muzan says this: "That schemer! Like a viper, his rage and hatred toward me... was coiling inside his pitch-black heart!"

As the viewer we're, of course, meant to take this with a grain of salt. We know Ubuyashiki didn't have a "pitch-black heart," but I think there's a grain of truth to be found in Ubuyashiki harboring rage and hatred toward Muzan.

We know the reason the Ubuyashiki clan started to hunt Muzan in the first place was to save themselves from the curse (and along the way I think they genuinely believed it was for the greater good as well).

But I think it sets Ubuyashiki up as the perfect morally ambiguous foil to Muzan. Yes, he is supposed to represent humanity, but what is more human than the endless moral struggle between the greater good and what's right for the individual? Ubuyashiki points out that in the thousands of years of Muzan's existence, the corps has never been wiped out but this is because the corps inherently preys on those who are at their most vulnerable. It is built on the back of tragedy.

Everything down to even just their life span is meant to be equal but opposite from Muzan's immortality to the Ubuyashiki's ephemeral life spans. Even their clothing choice, with Muzan picking darker colors and Ubuyashiki clad in white. Muzan is beautiful and unmarred while Kagaya is consumed by the curse of their bloodline yet their appearance is described as "twin-like" in the Kimetsu extras. Yet they are also equal, once again returning to their supposedly identical features, they both have a tendency to appear to those that serve them at their most vulnerable.

This is not a "Kagaya is evil" post at the end of the day. This is a "Kagaya is not a morally pure character and that's a good thing" post. And, I think, had the author had more time, they would have explored this fully. We all know the ending was a tad bit rushed due to the author having a family emergency and I will never blame them for that, but just looking at the story they built even on that time crunch I can only imagine they narrative they could have built given unlimited time.

I feel like they could have explored Kagaya's character more which they set up as being Muzan's equal but opposite: equally scheming but thankfully on humanity's side. He had empathy for the children, yes, but he still, at the end of the day, used people at their most vulnerable to do what he couldn't on his own.

And I didn't even get to START on the implications of his magical "voice" and foresight powers, but this post is already so long that I'm gonna end it here.

TLDR: Ubuyashiki is so much more complex than your stock "Greater good" character. He's Muzan's equal but opposite force, conniving but empathetic, morally ambiguous. Had the author had more time, I feel this would have been explored in more depth.

[caoimhe-from-hoenn]

Weird Pokemon Name of the Day: Yosemite Sam the Passimian

[iamfuckingsorry]

"Do you know where we are going next?" I asked ART.

Y'know what, I think maybe I don't need any more Murderbot books. I think maybe ending things here is fucking perfect and as much as I love Wells's writing I'm genuinely not sure it can get better for me.

Like, so much of the books are about MB learning how to be a person, about becoming okay with being a complete individual with everything it entails. The first thing it does once it's actually allowed to decide on its own is it runs away from it all (admittedly to go on a mission to confirm some things about its past, because it genuinely just wants to be *good*). It shoves all its emotions away as much as it's able to. Then shit happens, and it makes its first friends, makes decisions based on these friendships, goes through a lot of emotionally intense situations...

And we get to this point here. MB having zero doubts about going with ART says a lot about its relationship with ART, but it also says a lot about its relationship with its humans - it knows that wherever it goes, when it comes back, the humans will still be there. Its humans actively acknowledge its struggles with being a now-free SecUnit and MB is willing to entertain the discussions to an extent and share information about its deeply personal experiences. Hell, System Collapse ends with MB admitting it might be somewhat broken, but that's okay as long as it can keep doing its job, and agreeing to basically do counselling - this is the guy what would rewatch its favourite TV show again and again in order to avoid acknowledging it even had Emotions a couple books back.

Reading this, I know that MB will be okay. It has hopes and goals and genuinely believes in itself and it has an amazing support system that its willing to lean on for the first time in its life. I'm convinced it'll go on to do great things with ART. And that's really the only thing I need to know.

[retributory]

i'm going to say something that a lot of american trans people online might not like to hear and that is that some of you are so addicted to being scared and miserable that you refuse to take any steps to make your life better. fear-mongering bullshit aside, whether or not there is a nebulous future where you "can't" transition doesn't even matter at all. it is easier than ever to transition; you can go online right the hell now and buy some fucking hormones. hell, you can synthesize your own with enough know-how! thats not to say everything is all peaches and cream but it comes to a point where you have to take your life into your own hands. a government body will never be able to stop you from taking scissors to your hair, from stuffing your bras or packing your briefs, from asserting your name, from voice training, so on and so forth . . . there are millions of trans people before you that stuck it out through worse, and there will be millions of trans people after you that will stick it out through whatever bullshit comes their way. there are many, many people out there who have a very vested interest in convincing you that you are not the owner of your own body and that you cannot take control of your life. you are, and you can

[pinkpruneclodwolf]

*comes back from the grave to grip your shoulders* FGO/TWST but its Adeuce who are the equivalent of gudao/gudako amd Yuu is the equivalent of a lostbelt king (me thinking like a mix or castoria and morgan), and the three of them meeting in NRC again.

-ray

Raynon PLEASE

THE ANGST??? IS THAT WHAT U WANT??? SUFFERING??? PAIN????

Oh but can you IMAGINE the Lostbelt being a crude recreation of what Yuu longs for? Can you imagine Grim being forced to evolve so that he can guard Yuu because at the end of the day Yuu and Grim are nothing without one another.

Yuu who tries so hard to appease the vestiges of humanity that play up the traits of the Seven Dorms and their family, where they blend and mix and you cannot discern their faces.

The amalgam of comfort and grating unfamiliarity. The hollow feeling that you are where you've always wanted to be and yet you cannot settle because in the end the experiences that you've gone through has forever changed you.

Adeuce having to face off against the crude versions of themselves based off the recollection of Yuu.

They didn't want to reunite like this. Not like this.

[phantom-dc]

Bruce sighed.

He never thought he would die like this. When he started out as Batman he was certain he would meet his end fighting the criminal underworld of Gotham. When he got older and life got stranger, he believed he would die fighting off a threat like Joker or Deathstroke, maybe even Darkseid. Being used as a human sacrifice to the King of the Infinite Realms was not on that list, let alone being a willing sacrifice.

Unfortunately, it had been necessary. An asteroid was on collision course with Earth. The asteroid had a colony of sapient alien life on it, so destroying it was not an option. As the League grew desperate, Constantine revealed a similar incident had happened a few years ago. The King of the Infinite Realms had, along with his subjects, turned the Earth intangible and both the Earth and the Asteroid had survived. Constantine isn’t sure why or how, but there are signs an extremely powerful ghost had merged realities and in the process erased the memories of this event from the entire population of Earth! The only reason Constantine knows about it is because a Demon with time-based powers told him during one of their poker games. Summoning this King was risky, as they had no idea what the King would want in return, but this entity seemed like their best bet. Now Bruce thinks they had been wrong.

Superman pulled Bruce out of his thoughts:

“Bruce, are you sure you want to go through with this? If we work together, we might be able to-”

Bruce cut him off:

“No, Clark. You heard Constantine. If we do not hold up our end of the deal, the Ghost King could simply make his ally, this “Clockwork”, reverse time to before the planet was saved. The Earth and the asteroid will still be destroyed, killing everyone on both. This is the only way.”

Clark looked dejected. He knew his friend was right. The King had turned the entire Earth intangible with one hand! He knew the League couldn’t defeat this foe, not without help. Any being that could help them would demand even more bloodshed in exchange, though. One human life in exchange of saving the entire planet had been a steal, according to the Justice League Dark. Clark looked at Bruce:

“Are you going to put on your cowl? This will be the only chance you have to tell the other Leaguers who you are.”

Bruce looked at his cowl. He had taken of his suit, so that his family had something to bury. But to reveal his identity to anyone other than Clark....

“I will keep it on. Even if I die here, I cannot risk anyone finding out my identity and using it to get to my family. I hope the League understands.”

Bruce is pulled into a hug. As Clark holds him as close as he can without breaking bones Bruce cannot help being filled with regret. He wanted more time with his family and, dare he say, friends. This was not how things were supposed to go. Clark pulls away and seems to want to say something:

“Bruce, I just want you to know, I-”

“WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON, B?”

Suddenly Nightwing enters the room, along with the entire Bat-family. Even Alfred and Oracle, donning masks, are there. They looked confused and scared, which made sense. They had all been summoned to the Watchtower, and when they had seen non-field members there as well they knew something was very wrong. Robin stepped forward, demanding an explanation:

“Father, what is happening? Why did you ask for us here? Explain yourself this instant!”

Red Robin looked ready to fight, staff in hand and in a low stance:

Where is the danger? Who is the enemy? Do you have intel for us? ARE YOU BEING MIND CONTROLLED?

Spoiler yanked at Red Robin’s cowl, pulling him out of his paranoid spiral:

“Easy, Captain Paranoid! Let him speak!”

Red Hood was clearly agitated. It was never a good sign if he was asked to the Watchtower:

“The fuck is going on, old man? Are you dying or something? That’s my stick, not yours!”

Bruce steeled his nerves. This was not going to be an easy conversation. How does one tell their family they are going to die and there is nothing to be done about it? Things had been going well for them, too. Dick and he hadn’t fought as often anymore, Jason had not called him names when he patrolled Crime ally last week, Tim hadn’t done anything that could be considered villainous (that he knew of) and Damian had not stabbed any goons for a month. Truly things had been good. Bruce knew this would mess it all up. He feared Jason would start killing again, or Damian would take out his grief on the criminals or Tim would… Well he had no idea. Last time Bruce disappeared Tim blew up so many LoA bases (he still wasn’t sure whether there had been people inside or not), so it was anyone’s gue-

“Sir, could you please elaborate on why we are here? I’m assuming it has something to do with the reason for this dreadful cold, and perhaps your lack of a shirt?”

Bruce sighed. Alfred always knew how to get through to him. With a heavy heart he told them everything. He would sacrifice himself for the survival of both planets. There was nothing to be done about that, and he asked them to please accept his decision. Naturally everyone was outraged. Amidst the chaos, Orphan asked a question:

“Why you?”

Bruce explained that, according to Constantine, the King had asked for a single sacrifice in return: “To feast on a non-magic, non-meta mortal human that will not resist being consumed.” It had pointed specifically at Batman, making sure they all knew which one it wanted. There had been no time to negotiate the prize, so he had accepted. After that it had left immediately for Earth, turning it intangible so the asteroid flew through harmlessly and fulfilling its end of the deal. Orphan seemed to think for a bit, before speaking up again:

“We’ll miss you.”

She hugged Batman. The others, realizing there was nothing they could do, at least not before facing the King, joined in as well. Bruce told them how proud he was of everyone. That they were strong and brilliant, and to please protect each other and Gotham in his stead. He thanked Alfred and Oracle for their help over the years and to please continue to support the others with the same strength they used to help him. After a moment they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Wonder Woman had entered the room. With a saddened expression, and a dented doorhandle that showed her tension, she had come to collect her friend.:

“Batman. It’s time.”

Bruce nodded at her. Thanking her, he tried to leave with her, but was stopped by Alfred. After a quick hug, Alfed offered Bruce a cookie from the plate he had brought along:

“Every man deserves a final meal. I’m sorry this was all I have to offer.”

Taking a grateful bite, Bruce allowed himself to indulge in the taste of home.

“Thank you, Alfred. This means more to me then you realize.”

Steeling himself once more, Batman and the others followed Wonder Woman to the main room. It was the largest room in the Watchtower, several stories high with observation platforms, security screens showing cities all over the planet and a teleportation platform. As they approached the room, Batman was surprised by the cold that radiated form the entrance. Opening the door the source of all the cold and grief became visible to the group. Signal had to shield his eyes:

“What the hell!?!”

There it was, the High Ghost King of the Infinite Realms. A giant being, which had been so large they had to move to the observation platform to speak with it. Even then it towered over the heroes. It’s skin impossibly dark, with constellations spotting its tail & torso. The stars converging on its lower arms, making it look like it was wearing glowing white gloves, the same as a strange symbol on his chest that seemed important. The stars on its neck blending seamlessly with its hair, yet leaving its head completely dark aside from a few little spots on its face. The only facial feature they could make out where 2 Lazarus green eyes, focused on the new arrivals. On its hand, a ring with a skull on it that had freaked out the Lanterns. On its head a dark crown covered in patches of frost, and its own Aurora Borealis spreading from it. The room had already been partially covered in frost simply from the King’s aura. Power emanated from it, which had caused several members that had been dead and revived before to kneel on reflex, which was frightening even if they managed to get up on their own again.

Martian Manhunter had tried to peek in the Kings mind, hoping to find a way to convince the King to spare Batman, but he had been unsuccessful. As soon as he tried his knees buckled, and he had been pushed out. Ever since the Ghost King had radiated frustration. Now, as Batman entered wearing only his cowl and some spare pants, that frustration seemed to spike dangerously. Was the King upset he had been left to wait for his offer?

"What the fuck is this? I didn’t ask for a striptease, especially from some old Frootloop!”

“Constantine, what’s wrong? What is it saying?”

Batman was worried. He had not expected more anger from the being when presented with the offering. Looking at Constantine, he saw the magician frantically looking through the pages of his books, desperately looking for a translation.

“Hang on, mate. I’m doing my best here! Ehrm… no, that’s not right… Something about mating? Maybe he likes you, Bats. He also said something about “the absence of clothing” so…

Suddenly he is cut off by a strange sound coming from the Ghost King. It makes a strange motion with its body and its giant maw opens, as more of those sounds escape. It reminds Robin of Alfred the Cat when he has a hairball. However, there is more sound in the Watchtower now. The Red Hood is clutching his stomach as he is doubling down in laughter.

“HAHAHAHA!!! WHAT? HOW THE FUCK DID YOU TRANSLATE THAT BADLY? HOLY SHIT!”

The Ghost King stops making the noises, and it’s eyes snap to Red Hood. It moves it’s head closer to him, casually passing it through the barrier Constantine had put up. Constantine’s swears in surprise, but the King seems not to care as it “speaks” to Red Hood:

"Oh, thank the Acients! Someone who understands Ghost Speak! Can you PLEASE help me and translate for us? This trench coat guy is terrible, and somehow twists everything I say in the worst way!"

Red Hood relaxed, looking up at the Ghost King’s giant head.:

“Sure man, no problem. I’m pretty sure he is using like 3 different dictionaries to get this far. I saw him first translate Ghost to Pixie, Pixie to Gnome and Gnome to Demon before telling us in English! So, what’s up?”

Batman was stunned. The Ghost King actually face palmed. What the heck was going on?

"Of course he is. That explains why it sounds like he is putting this through Google Translate 4 times! These guys summoned me to save the Earth, which, totally cool. Happy to help! But a summons makes it official, which means I need to get an offering. I can’t leave without it or I face a mountain of paperwork from some stupid bureaucratic eyeballs for not following proper procedure. But I can always ask something simple and get it over with. No biggie, right? WRONG.”

Red Hood actually grabs a chair to sit on. Not even in a somewhat respectful way, he is sitting on it backwards, casually leaning on it.

“Oh, boy. How badly did they fuck up? Gotta be big since Batman over there is ready to be eaten?”

The King glares at Constantine, who puts up his bravest “time to out-bollock a Eldritch Demon” face. The King is not impressed:

"Man, I asked, and I quote: “I’d like to eat a regular human meal that doesn’t fight back, like that guy would eat!” I wanted it to be clear I didn’t want blood, or corpses or virgins or any of the other horrible things stupid cults try to give me! I just wanted a burger or something! But then Mr. triple dictionary over there somehow turns that into: ‘’I wish to feast on a non-magic, non-meta mortal human that will not resist being consumed, and it must be that one.” I’ll admit I was pointing at one of the non-supers, but that didn’t mean I wanted to eat him! I just wanted to make sure it was normal food, something that doesn’t fight back!”

Red Hood looked confused, asking if the King’s food usually fights back. The King rolls it’s eyes:

"In life, I lived with mad scientist parents who treated lab safety as a suggestion at best and a chore for teens at worst. Put enough samples in the fridge and you get a whole new type of Thanksgiving trauma. Dang, I’m getting even more hungry. I’d love some turkey right now. Could you get them to bring me some food? That way I can have my sacrifice and leave…”

Red Hood stands up. He asks if the King can wait a few more minutes, claiming that after all that frustration he deserved something better. Getting a nod from the Ghost King, the Red Hood suddenly shouted over the platform railing towards the waiting Leaguers:

“FLASH! Get your squad up here, and bring pen & paper! I got a job for y’all!”

Zooming up every member of the Flash family gets a list of things to get and a warning not to tell the Bats what’s on it, or Red Hood will shoot them in the knees. Looking at the lists, they quickly caught on what was going on and promised they wouldn’t tell. This was way too funny! Red Hood does a fake bow to the King, clearly amusing himself.

“Don’t worry, your Hungry-ness! Your sacrifice is being prepared! Anything else we can assist you with?”

The Ghost King seems to tilt its head in amusement. Whatever Hood was doing, it was working, which honestly was the only reason nobody had tackled him to the floor.

"Actually, if you could get that Frootloop to put on a shirt that would be great. He is shivering and honestly, I’m worried he’s going to poke someone’s eye out with a nipple. Why is he shirtless anyway? Please tell me he wasn’t actually trying to seduce me or something, he’s old enough to be my dad! Gross!”

This caused Red Hood to again double over in laughter. Everyone was confused, what could possibly be so funny in this situation? Constantine had frantically tried translating during their conversation, but it had gone too fast for him. He gave up when the King mentioned eyeballs and seduction, accepting he wouldn’t get anywhere like this. Batman however couldn’t resist his need to know everything anymore.

“Hood, report! How are you communicating with the entity?”

Red Hood turns to Batman, walks past him and towards Alfred, grabbing one of the cookies he had brought with him. As he walks back and hands it to the Ghost King, he starts to explain:

“Honestly, not sure. It feels instinctive, like a second mother-tongue. Pretty sure it’s some sort of “dead-guy-language” you learn when you die. Speaking off: Turns out Constantine is a VERY unreliable translator. Spooky here is actually pretty chill! He used you as an example to make sure we knew what he wanted, not to demand you as a sacrifice. He is in fact pretty ticked that you guys tried to feed B to him. Speaking of: Batman? Put a shirt on, for fucks sake. You look like you’re going to freeze your tits off.”

This earned a round of giggles from Green Lantern & Green Arrow. Now that the tension had left the room, other Leaguers also smiled in relief. Besides, it’s always fun to see Batman being the butt of a joke. Sure enough, Batman let out a frustrated sound, that got the rest of the Bats to join in on the fun. They understood that their dad in fact felt rather silly right now, which meant that they had more to gossip about soon. Constantine now was wondering what Hood was up to:

“Mate, I did my best! Sorry for not being fluent in every language in existence. What the hell did you send the Flash to get? The bloke is a scientist and denies magic when it’s right in front of ‘im! What could they possibly get that I couldn’t-”

At that moment, the Flashes zoom out of the Zeta tubes and zoom across the observation deck. After a few moments of red and yellow blurs, the deck is covered with tables filled front to back with food! Picking up a receipt that fell to the floor, Batman realizes this is take-out from all over the world. Seeing a puddle of Lazarus water grow on the floor, he looks up. The Ghost King is actually drooling! Red Hood steps aside and gestures to the feast:

“Welp! There is your sacrifice! One. And I also quote: “regular human meal that doesn’t fight back, like “that guy” would eat!” Well, more of a feast then a meal, but I’m sure a big guy like you can finish it, and you can always take home the rest I guess. Bon Appetit!”

Opening his giant maw, the Ghost King digs in. Well, as much as he can. He actually looks kind of silly eating everything with a tiny fork. Still, judging from the purring sound emanating through the Watchtower it’s to the Kings liking.

"DUDE, THIS IS SO GOOD? I need to know these restaurants! You want a bite for helping me out? You saved me SOOO much annoying paperwork, I was about to bail!”

Picking up a plate of karaage, Red Hood took of his helmet revealing a second mask underneath and dug in as well:

“Don’t mind if I do, this smells fantastic! Oh shit, you should try this stuff, it’s great!”

Red Hood being allowed to partake in the offering so casually caused Constantine to do a double take. He realizes he seriously misjudged this entity. Still, that didn’t explain the horrific stories about him. He would need to do some digging into that, maybe with Hood as a translator. For now he takes a swig of his drink. The world was saved, no one died or lost their Soul and he didn’t make any new enemies he thinks. Plus, Batman felt like an idiot, and that always made the Brit smile.

All in all a good day!

[oblako]

pain and suffering (finally caught up with noragami)

[tender-rosiey]

desire — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: me? not sticking to the poll? no wayyy 😙 I AM SORRY I COULDNT RESIST HEIAN!SUKUNA X CONCUBINE!READER next up will be the dad one (I hope) <3

the servants jump in fear as they hear yet another loud crash thunder through the hallway. some of them even latch onto the pillars near them, fearing that the shaking ground would crumble right under their feet.

“uraume, another one!” they hear their lord’s voice shout venomously.

they realize that if the collapsing ground doesn’t kill them then there is a possibility that sukuna might do it himself.

for some reason, this morning, sukuna has been in a terrible mood. with the first ray of sunlight, he had slammed the door of the chambers open.

with an ever-permanent scowl, he scanned the hall filled with concubines and servants.

his chest was heaving slowly; his breath almost scalding hot as he breathed out. he looked at uraume and says, “I need five people sent to the vacant room this instant.”

with no other word, he turned and exited the hall, closing the door with a bang.

the servants were wide-eyed, and they frantically looked at each other.

some of them started weeping, scared out of their minds that they might be chosen. others were considering the option of fleeing because what can they do so uraume doesn’t choose them for whatever massacre sukuna was planning?

uraume exhaled lightly, “you have heard lord sukuna,” they stared at the myriad of quivering servants, emotionless, “stand in line.”

and so it was.

now, on the other side of the door is sukuna crushing the skull of yet another servant. he breathes heavily, fury flowed through his veins.

he stares at the pool of blood on the ground, the splatters of it on the walls, and the splashes of it on the ceiling. his jaw tightens as he thinks of the reason of why all of this happened.

yesterday was the first night he had ever spent with you.

of course, that entailed bedding you—the norm for your position—but what had sukuna in a turmoil was the conversations, the words exchanged, and soft touches you had given him before anything.

he had seen you in the estate on occasion, acknowledging you as one of the better looking concubines, but it was only yesterday that he actually interacted with you.

from the moment you entered his room to the moment you left, it was all like none other.

he had never entertained the idea of making conversations with his concubines as they only had one purpose—to serve him. on days when he was in a good mood, he would tease, speak lowly, anything to get a reaction.

all of that was to fuel his own pleasure, since he hated stagnancy.

to your luck, though, yesterday, he felt very pleased—whispers of it being caused by defeating yet another considerably strong opponent. so, he talked to you.

“so, what’s your name?” he asked, small smirk playing on his face, when you were first brought into the room. pretty little thing you were seated in front of him, eyes not knowing where to look and trying to keep in mind all the instructions uraume told you.

he expected you to be meek, bordering on shy.

however, despite maintaining humility as you were told, you spoke your name with pride, and for the first time since you entered, you looked him in the eyes.

he should’ve had you killed for that little act; however, he noted that you immediately averted your eyes after it. perhaps, it’s your way of screaming ‘remember me’, a way to engrave yourself into his memory even for a millisecond.

it had sukuna smiling smugly before commenting, “you’re quite bold…and peculiar,” he rested his chin on his palm, “did they not inform you to not look me in the eyes unless you’re told to?”

you straightened your shoulders and spoke carefully, “I was, but I was taught by my parents to be prideful of who I am.”

“and pride is a good thing for servant to display in front of their king?”

your eyebrows furrowed, and you pursed your lips, mumbling, “no—but I was born like this, my lord, so I apologize.”

he chuckled, hand holding your face and moving it with ease, “I should have you decapitated for that attitude.”

your eyes drifted to the window, but the nail that sunk lightly into your cheek snapped you back to reality. sukuna scowled, “look at me when I speak to you.”

“didn’t you say that I am not to do that, my lord?” you asked, looking him straight in the eyes.

“I changed my mind,” he grined devilishly, “you complaining?”

“I could never.”

he leaned closer to you and whispers, “smart girl.”

and so, the night went as he took you for himself. what surprised him in the whole ordeal is that he found himself being just a tad bit gentler when tears prickle at the corner of your eye.

he actually spoke to you through it, but what resonated with him the most is what happened after.

you slowly gathered your robes with all the strength you can muster. however, sukuna called out from his position on the bed, “did I order you to leave?”

you blinked in confusion and spluttered, “b-but uraume said that you don’t like—”

“and my orders are above uraume’s: you are to stay until I tell you to leave.”

you clutched your belongings to your chest. you felt your heart squeeze in a bit of fear and excitement. you have been caught off guard by him more than once already.

you had come in expecting a ruthless and painful night, but it was surprisingly pleasant.

the little talk before it was also easier on your heart than you had assumed. you thought that he wouldn’t even bother talking to you and would just take you like an animal as you have heard the concubines bellow and wail.

so when a thumb was wiping away your tears and a hand was holding your waist with a light touch, you wondered whether the man you were with was truly the king of curses, the man that everybody was screaming and thrashing about.

though, you felt that it might be a test of some sort—something to make you lower your guard before he can do what he truly wanted.

so, with that in mind, you spoke up, “but my lord, I can’t possibly stay in your own chambers; that would be disrespecting you.”

he grunted, a frown making its way to his face, “I decide what’s disrespectful and what isn’t, so you better make your way here, before you regret it,” his eyes flashed with a threat, “I don’t have the time to deal or put up with your every objection.”

instantly, you scurried to the bed where he is comfortably laying down while propping body up on his elbow.

you stood just by the bed and asked, “where would you like me to—”

his hand held your forearm and pulled you right beside him, so you’re laying by his side and still looking up at him. he smirked down at you, “you ask too many questions.”

you didn’t know what to do with your hands. they gripped your kimono while you murmured, “sorry.”

he sighed and with a roll of his eyes, he hummed, “you will stay with me until midnight; you are to entertain me until then.”

you looked at him in shock then you looked at the window. your mouth hung open before you snapped your head back to him, “but the sun has only just set.”

with a raise of his eyebrows and a small smirk, he inquired, “you planning on disobeying me?”

“never!”

“then get to it.”

and you did, gathering all the stories, anecdotes, poems, and songs you can think of to fill the time. during your hours with him, you find out that sukuna is a man of interest in literature.

and there were multiple times where you would talk about a story, assuming that he doesn’t know it only for him to continue the telling of the story himself.

during your hours with him, you saw that he is not completely disregarding of people around him. you saw that he acknowledges those who are truly strong. you saw that he wants to make a world that is whipped to satisfy his own desires.

his rampages are not completely based off of bloodlust.

during your hours with him, you felt content in a way you never thought you could experience with him of all people.

but, during his hours with you, sukuna has never felt so conflicted yet so satisfied. satisfaction should be something good for him, as he only does what he pleases.

if your company is what pleases him then your company shall be what he gets, right?

but why your company? why are you different? why is his pleasuring dependent on you and your talking and not the death that he could bring you?

he was confused and annoyed, yet he was content at the same time. he was so caught up in you that midnight had fallen to him suddenly. he only noticed when the moon’s light hits your face, and your face has never been clearer—even under the sun.

he noted each and every delicate feature, and he frowned because why is he doing it? what does he get from it? he needed time for himself to think this through.

he needed to know why does he feel this way and only from a night spent with you?

surely, you had done something.

so, he silently raised his hand, and you paused right away. your hands settled on your lap, and your smile slowly turned into a thin line, one that’s nervous as you await his next order. he looked up at you, eyes burning.

he then commanded you sternly, “leave.”

you nodded, wasting no time in gathering your things and scurrying out of the chambers but without a small and hesitant, “good night, my lord.”

sukuna’s eyes widened a fraction as he looked up at the door closing behind you. he groaned, throwing his back. he figured that he could just think about it in the morning when he wakes up, but the thing is

he doesn’t wake up

because he doesn’t sleep.

thoughts flooded with images of you, your voice, and your touch to the point that no slumber was he granted. it drove him insane. he is the king of curses; he shouldn’t be tied to a thought of one person, a mere concubine at that.

he racked his brain for the cause of it, but he couldn’t think of any. since the moment you came in till the moment you went out, he had kept his eyes on you.

he thought it was to make sure that you don’t do anything foolish, but he doesn’t know when did his eyes follow you just for you.

so, with anger swirling in his gut, he got up and did what he can to quench his anger, and that’s how everything got this point:

him standing in the middle of the—formerly vacant—room that is now filled with flesh and painted with blood and you who is treading through the gardens with a blissful smile.

your thoughts wander to the night before as you reminisce every soft touch and every little praise you were granted, and it lifts your mood even more.

unaware of the chaos that happened in your absence, you entered the hall where half of the people have disappeared.

your eyebrows furrow, and you look at the weeping ladies, “where are the rest?”

hiccups are all you hear, and eyeshot eyes are what you see. their sobs are unseizing even as they look you in the eye. you hear light footsteps behind you, so you turn and see uraume standing at the door.

they look you in the eye, “are you y/n?”

you nod slowly, and they hum, “lord sukuna has requested for your presence.”

you light up considerably while the other concubines shake in fear as their eyes dart to you. one of them jumps out of her place and latches at you, “no! no! don’t go! he will—”

“silence!” uraume snaps.

the lady holding onto you quickly lets go and crawls back to hide behind the others.

she grips tightly onto the shoulder of the woman in front of her, tears streaming down her face as she is faced with uraume’s sneer.

uraume looks up at you and affirmed, “go.”

after a while, you finally find yourself face to face with the entrance of sukuna’s chamber.

you take a deep breath, and you carefully push the door and speak up softly, “my lord, you called for me?”

you feel a hand roughly clutch your arm and snatches you inside. you are then slammed against the wall. you let out a yelp as pain shoots up your spine.

you squeeze your eyes shut, afraid of the sight that you will see.

and even though you can’t see his eyes, you can feel the heat from his glare. the venom dripping from his voice doesn’t help as he sneers, “what have you done?”

you force your eyes open slowly, and you stutter, “w-what?”

a hand flies to your throat and is wrapped securely around it. you choke out a small, “my lord!”

his grip tightens, and you feel tears form in your eyes and flow down your face.

more than ever, you feel the fear that his looming figure sends through everybody else, you feel the fire of his red eyes scorch your skin, and you feel the aura that everybody talked about.

an overwhelming evil.

“I don’t understand what game you’re playing, but you better stop it this instance,” he threatens, and you let out a sob.

“what game, my lord? I don’t understand!” you manage to choke out.

your hear him let out a breath before he says lowly, “I have told you that desires and pleasures are fluctuating, right?”

fearing for your life, you nod desperately. you feel his grip loosen, and he leans down to rest his forehead on your own.

with furrowed brows and a deep scowl, his eyes bore into your own as he holds your face up with his other hand, “then why do I still desire you?”

you blink owlishly at him then speak cautiously, “didn’t you say that you take what you desire?”

he raises an eyebrow, urging you to continue. slowly and hesitantly, you raise your hand to cup his face.

you look him up in the eyes, and you find them following your every moment. “then what’s wrong with,” you hesitate, “with taking this one?”

you look innocent as you look up at him, but to him, your words are nothing but.

with a low chuckle, he pulls your face closer to his own, “temptress,” and he seals your lips with his.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis @hearts4itoshi @sleepyxxhead @dunixxd @sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08 @spacebaby1 @arabellatreaty @viscade @washeduphasbeen @janbannan @sugurubabe @enidths @aly4khq

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will send yuuta after you

[nadvs]

wish you’d ask me (one-shot)

pairing zach maclaren x female reader

summary you and your friend zach are on your way to a weekend retreat when suddenly, you wake up in the hospital with a concussion. zach is relieved you’re okay, until he realizes that you’re under the impression that he’s your boyfriend.

tags plot-flip of ‘the other zoey’ where reader loses her memory. college setting. friends to lovers. mutual pining. mentioned song is ‘red love’ by dream ivory (zach gives indie soft boy yfm). angst and fluff. no smut. hugs to my zach girlies @juniebugg & @nemesyaaa <3 divider credit.

» masterlist

››› friday

“Uh oh,” you mumble.

“What is it?” Zach asks. His gaze is fixed ahead, the snowy road a stretch of glittering white under the afternoon sun. You bring your phone up closer to your face.

“Chase just texted the group,” you explain. “Apparently, the furnace broke.”

“Uh oh,” he echoes.

“Exactly,” you say with a defeated laugh. “What now? Do we cancel? We can’t be out there all weekend with no heat.”

Zach checks the time on his dashboard to see you have thirty minutes left of the drive to the cabin you rented with your friends. The four of them are already there, waiting for you two.

“Nevermind,” you say. “Esha texted. The only thing broken is Chase’s sense of humor. I’m this close to throwing him outside and locking the door.”

You hold up your hand in a pinching motion.

“And she used this emoji,” you explain with a giggle.

Zach’s eyes drift to you, an endeared smile pulling on his lips.

“Appreciate the demonstration,” he says.

He reaches a red light and forces himself not to stare at you. He’s afraid that one day, his feelings for you will refuse to stay stuck in his heart and he’ll just blurt them out.

The past hour in the car with you has been a dream. Really, any time he spends with you is a dream. You’re usually all together as a group, so he cherishes the rare moments he gets to be alone with you.

He knows admitting his feelings to you comes with the risk of losing your friendship and fracturing the bond you both have in the group. But sometimes, it’s like keeping them in actually physically hurts.

“What’s your favorite emoji?” you ask. “No, wait.” You think back to the texts you’ve exchanged over the many months you’ve been friends. “I already know. It’s the guy running. Your version of saying on my way.”

“It’s efficient,” he replies with a shrug.

“Okay, so, what’s your second favorite emoji?” you say.

Zach laughs heartily and says, “You never run out of questions.”

“Do you mean that in a ‘you’re so much fun’ way,” you ask, “or in a ‘I’m too nice to say it, but shut up’ way?”

“Please don’t shut up,” he says in a rush. “You’re keeping me entertained.”

“It’s the least I can do after you stayed back for me.”

You were the only person in your friend group who had a class you couldn’t miss today. Zach offered to leave for the cabin with you, saying he had an important essay he wanted to finish this morning anyway, while everyone else drove up last night.

He had already finished that essay two days ago.

“It was no problem,” he replies. He means it. Nothing is too difficult for him if it’s for you.

“I’ll still pay you back,” you say. You stifle a yawn, fighting off the fatigue that’s been melting into you for the past hour. “What can I get you? What do you want most in the world?”

Zach chews on his bottom lip, pretending to think, when really, what he wants most in the world is sitting in his passenger seat, the prettiest and kindest girl he’s ever known, her gaze burning into him in his peripheral vision.

“A life-changing cup of hot cocoa,” he replies.

“Big ask, but you got it,” you agree with a laugh. “You can enjoy it in your grandpa pj’s.”

Zach smirks. A few nights ago, on a group video call, you amusedly pointed out the plaid button-up he was wearing in bed.

“They’re comfortable,” he counters.

“They’re still pajamas an old man would wear,” you tease. Your phone buzzes in your lap. “It’s Chase. Esha ruined my prank. Scaring us that we’ll freeze? What kind of prank is that?”

“He’s ridiculous,” Zach laughs.

The six of you met back when you were put together for a group project. You all got along so well that you started hanging out outside of class. Zach has grown to deeply care for everyone in the group. You, especially.

“I’ve been playing my music this whole ride,” you realize. “It’s only fair that you get to choose the songs for the last stretch.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures. “You’re a good dj.”

“For once in your life, stop being so nice and just play what you want,” you tease. “Since your phone is the GPS, we can keep using mine. Do you have any public playlists?”

He scratches his cheek, nerves filling his chest.

“You’ll make fun of me,” he says.

“Zachary,” you gasp. “When have I ever made fun of you?”

“Like, a minute ago.”

“Other than that.”

“Five minutes ago?”

You laugh again and Zach swears it’s the nicest sound he’s ever heard. Nicer than any song either of you could put on.

“My music is either workout stuff or just… sappy,” he admits.

“I’d expect nothing less,” you respond with a chuckle. “No pressure, but I promise, I won’t judge.”

He breathes a laugh and tells you his username, praying he can keep a straight face if the songs he listens to when he’s thinking about you play.

You tap on the playlist he titled ‘Relaxing’ and sink back in your seat as you gaze out the window. The glass is a little fogged, the world looking like it was dusted with powdered sugar.

The gentle guitar spills out of the speakers as your eyes travel over snow-covered peaks of evergreens that line the road.

Your heart pulls once you hear the song’s first lines, curious if Zach relates to them.

I’m the type of guy, trying not to fight

Not so perfect but I always try to bring the light

He’s easygoing and optimistic – that much is true. But not so perfect? If you had the chance, you’d tell him how perfect he is, over and over again.

Your eyes slowly flutter shut, lulled by the melody. You tell yourself not to daydream about the man sitting next to you when you’re certain he doesn’t feel the same way you do, but it’s easier said than done.

You can’t help it. The longer you’re Zach’s friend, the more you have to yearn for. You’re convinced he has the purest heart you’ve ever known.

But through the conversations you’ve had with your friends about your love lives, you’ve learned that Zach is a romantic, never nervous to pursue a girl he likes. And if he liked you, you’re sure he’d have told you by now.

When you swore Esha and Maggie to secrecy regarding your crush on him, they were confident he feels the same way. You still aren’t.

I don’t wanna feel insecure about a thing

But she makes me feel like I don’t even know what’s happening

Pull me closer and it’s like I forget what was wrong

The thought of pulling Zach closer, of making his insecurities and problems go away makes your stomach twist with warmth.

And then, you’re lying in bed with him, cocooned in a fluffy duvet, your hand on his cheek as you gaze at him. Your heart is full, the air buzzing with love. He worryingly asks you if you slept enough. You nod and he tells you how beautiful you are and you press your lips on his.

Sudden stillness stirs you awake. You meet his sweet blue eyes.

Oh. You fell asleep. And you had a dream about Zach so tender that your heart is still racing, your lips tingling from the kisses he never even gave you.

“Did we make it?” you murmur, tumbling back into reality, grounding yourself in the fact that you’re in a parked car, not a cozy bed.

“Not yet,” Zach says. “I wanted to make a quick stop. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You look through the windshield to see a convenience store sign, the bottom skirted in translucent icicles.

“It’s okay,” you stutter, unbuckling your seatbelt. “It’ll be good to stretch my legs.”

Cold air pricks your cheeks when you step out of the car. Even though Zach has no idea what your subconscious just threw you into, it’s embarrassing to be around him after such an romantic dream.

You round the car and approach the front door, which Zach is holding open for you. In your daze, you realize you forgot your wallet.

“My wallet,” you say in a hush, turning back.

“I’ll cover it,” Zach offers.

But you’re already scurrying to the car. And then, you lose your balance.

.❅❅❅.

The weight in Zach’s stomach is catastrophically heavy.

You’ve been in a confused daze since your fall. And he’s worried sick.

He stands next to you as you sit in bed, blinking slowly. Since he helped pick you up off the icy concrete and drove you to the nearest hospital, you’ve been slowly coming to your senses.

The doctor comes in and asks a few questions. You get the first few right – your full name, your date of birth, your major, your address. All said confidently, even through the fog blocking your mind.

That’s a relief.

But then, you’re not sure what day of the week it is. You can’t tell her what you had for breakfast. And, most confusing of all, when the doctor asks if you know who he is, you say, “Zach. My boyfriend.”

He swallows hard, the word fluttering in his mind. Boyfriend?

The doctor runs a few tests, checking your coordination and reflexes, then offers a sympathetic grimace.

“You have a mild concussion. You’re not showing any serious signs I’m concerned about, but we should do a CT scan just in case.” The doctor looks to Zach. “Can you come with me to help book it?”

He nods, giving you one more worried glance before he trails the doctor out of the room.

After he tucks the appointment card in his wallet, he listens to the doctor’s instructions. Rest. Hydrate. Reduce stress. No screens. Come back if symptoms worsen.

“What if she’s remembering things wrong?” Zach asks. “I… uh, I’m not her boyfriend. We’re just friends.”

“Her memory will likely come back to her in pieces,” the doctor reassures. “It’s normal that things are jumbled. She’ll be fragile for a bit.”

“What do I do? Is it best for her healing if I play along?”

“The less stress on her brain, the better,” she says. “You can calmly tell her what she has wrong or let her believe the minor, harmless things until she’s herself again. I’m sure she’ll be better soon and you won’t even have to correct her.”

Zach’s chest strains in anxiety, worried that he’ll mess something up. The last thing he wants to do is impede your healing by stressing you out.

When he comes back into the room, your eyes light up in a way they never have for him before. He tries not to let it get to him.

“Hey,” you say lazily, gazing at him with adoration. “Is it booked? Can we go now? We’re so late.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” he says softly. “You’re injured.”

You giggle, stretching your arm out. Hesitatingly, Zach steps closer, letting you warmly hold his hand atop the thin blanket. He feels guilty for enjoying it.

“Did you tell them what happened?” you ask.

“Yeah, I – uh, I…” He begins to stammer as you gently run your fingers over his knuckles. “I should update them, actually.”

He pulls away abruptly, taking his phone out, brows furrowed. A simple touch from you is overwhelming enough, let alone when you’re only doing it because you’re concussed and confused.

You watch him text, his expression tense. He’s always like this, so worried about you. You think back to a few days ago, when he was concerned you didn’t get enough sleep as you lazed in bed together.

“Relax,” you say gently. “She said it was mild, right?”

“Yeah.” Zach keeps his eyes on the screen, unsure of how to tell your friends you’re under the impression you’re dating. “You just need to take it easy. You’ll be back to normal soon.”

.❅❅❅.

You catch up on the group texts you missed after your fall when you settle in Zach’s car. You’re reading the last message, which is Esha saying something about seeing you soon when Zach turns on the engine.

You can’t quite make out the words. Then you realize Zach’s been trying to talk to you.

“What?” you say.

“You shouldn’t look at a screen,” he says gently.

“Right.” You lower your phone. “I can barely read right now anyway.”

“Can you put your seatbelt on?”

“Yes.” You turn, the motion suddenly making you dizzy. Your eyes pinch shut and you hold your head with a pained sigh.

Zach has never been more upset at himself. He’s supposed to be taking care of you. The doctor called you fragile. He’s already messing up.

“Sorry,” he says. “Just relax, okay? I’ll take care of it.”

He leans over, pulling your seatbelt into the buckle. You keep your eyes shut, feeling his forehead brush against your cheek, enjoying the warm, rich fragrance that’s so Zach.

You might not remember everything, but you remember how much you love the way he smells.

“Thanks, baby,” you murmur and plant a kiss on his temple.

Zach’s stomach goes wild with butterflies. Heavy guilt sets in again. He can’t go on like this. It feels wrong to play along.

He pulls back and you look at him past heavy lids.

“We should talk,” he says, “about our friendship.”

He has no idea how to navigate this conversation. The doctor said to correct you calmly. There’s nothing calm about the way his heart is pounding right now.

“We haven’t told them, have we?” you ask. “I can’t remember ever acting like a couple around them. Is that what you mean?”

You think he’s talking about your friendships with the group waiting at the cabin.

This might be the best way to do this.

He’ll let you believe that you’re keeping your relationship under wraps. He’ll avoid any opportunity to be alone with you until your mind is straight again. And eventually, it’ll come to you that you and him aren’t actually together.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “We have to act like we’re just friends in front of them.”

“Why’d we decide to do that again?” you ask.

Zach nervously taps his knee.

“Malek had a really bad breakup,” he explains. “We didn’t want to rub it in his face.”

“Oh, yeah,” you say. The memory comes to you, choppy but clear enough. “Dumped via text. Poor guy.”

He flashes a relieved smile. It’s reassuring that you remember something that happened a week ago.

“Right,” he says. He puts the car in drive. The sooner he gets to the cabin, the sooner he can stop putting on this act. “We should get going.”

.❅❅❅.

Your friends are quiet and reluctant to come too close when you step into the cabin.

“Guys, I’m fine,” you laugh.

“How are you feeling?” Maggie asks, wide-eyed. “Do you remember me?”

“Of course,” you say. “It’s just a headache now.”

“You should sit down,” Zach urges behind you. He puts down the bags he brought in from the car that he refused to let you carry.

“It feels like I’ve been sitting all day,” you say. “Except for the part when I fell.”

“So, we can joke about it?” Chase asks with a grin.

“No,” Zach says. “Too soon.”

You look at him over your shoulder, chuckling.

“I think Zach’s more traumatized than I am,” you say.

“What happened exactly?” Esha asks, waving you in.

You step further into the cabin, struck by the enormous living room windows. They present a stunning view of snowy hills and picturesque cottages under the setting sun.

If it weren’t for the stubborn ache pulsing in your forehead, you’d want to explore more of the cabin. But Zach’s right. You should sit down. That walk from the car was enough exercise. You’re already dizzy again.

“It’s my fault,” Zach replies. “I stopped at some random store and that’s where she fell.”

You meet his eyes, heart breaking at the pained expression on his face. You wish you weren’t putting on a farce right now, because if you could do what you wanted, you’d pull him into a hug.

“It’s not your fault I don’t know how to walk,” you joke.

“You fell in the store?” Chase asks.

“Parking lot,” you say. “To get my wallet. Even though Zach said I didn’t need to. So, technically, it’s on me.”

You can tell by the look on his face that he’s not convinced. He’s blaming himself for this entirely.

You sit down for dinner, downing the water Zach encouraged you to drink, while he catches everyone up on how to help support your healing process.

“How do you know all this?” Maggie asks. “Concussions from playing soccer?”

“I asked the doctor,” he clarifies.

When you’re sure nobody’s looking, you reassuringly squeeze his knee under the table. He tenses up under your touch.

.❅❅❅.

After dinner, you’re bundled up in a blanket on the plush living room couch as flames crackle in the stone fireplace.

Nobody has allowed you to lift a finger. Every chore, down to putting away your dinner plate, has been taken over by one of your friends encouraging you to rest.

Zach’s on the other end of the sectional, tapping his fingers against the armrest. You remember that it’s something he does when he’s nervous. Why is he nervous? And why does he have to be so far away? You’re pretending to be just friends, but simply sitting next to you wouldn’t be suspicious, would it?

You know you’re not yourself. Your thoughts are muddy and patchy, but you’re already feeling much better than you did at the hospital because another memory suddenly blooms in your mind.

“Hot cocoa,” you say. Five heads turn to look at you as you point at Zach. “I owe you hot cocoa for staying back to drive me.”

“Yeah,” Zach says, his dimpled grin making your heart skip. “Your memories are coming back.”

You nod with a bright smile. At this moment, as he gazes at you from across the room, he realizes just how much he worries about you, he thinks of the kiss you left on his skin, and he accepts that he was wrong.

He’s not falling for you – he’s already in deep, completely enamored with no hope of pulling himself out.

.❅❅❅.

After you brush your teeth, you pad downstairs to the kitchen before you head to sleep in the bedroom you’re sharing with the girls.

You’re walking back through the dimly lit house when you hear the floorboards creak under someone’s weight. Zach rounds the corner at the bottom of the staircase.

“Hi,” you say sweetly. He towers over you and your eyes drift down to the red and black flannel he’s wearing. “The famous grandpa pj’s.”

“Yeah,” he laughs, happy you remember yet another thing.

His chest twists, conflicted because he enjoys the familiar comfort of being alone with you, but is also anxious in case you still have the wrong idea about the nature of your relationship.

“Proud of me for hydrating?” you ask, holding up the cup of water you just got for yourself.

“Very proud.” He walks past you. “Sleep well.”

You’re confused. It’s unlike him. You remember enough to know he’s typically kind and talkative.

“Hey,” you say, turning to look at him. He meets your gaze, lips slightly parted, visibly tense. “What’s wrong? You don’t really blame yourself, do you? I’m fine.”

His lips curl into a frown. He’s not convinced.

“Please don’t worry,” you continue softly, stepping towards him. “You’ve been taking such good care of me. You’re the best friend a concussed girl could have.”

Friend. Does that mean you no longer think he’s your boyfriend? Have you forgotten about the whole thing entirely?

Before he can ask to be sure, he realizes you were being playful with the word, because you quickly look over your shoulder, then unexpectedly pop up on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips.

“I made sure nobody saw,” you say in an amused whisper. “Good night.”

You rush upstairs, an electric current zipping through you even though you’ve kissed him a million times before.

Zach is standing still in the hallway, heart hammering, blood running hot. He’s lost count of how many times he daydreamed about kissing you. Now, he felt your lips against his for real, and his mind and body are a jumbled mess.

There’s a chance you like him back and now feel uninhibited to offer him the affection you’ve always wanted to give him. Or you’re just confused and you’ll be horrified to learn that he let you believe you’re dating when you were dazed and vulnerable.

If your memory isn’t solid by tomorrow, he’ll have to correct it himself. And he can only hope he won’t ruin your friendship in the process.

››› saturday

You’re walking towards the kitchen, the taste of toothpaste fresh on your tongue. You’re glad you woke up with a much clearer mind. You remember more of yesterday; it’s almost a complete picture in your head.

Zach and Malek are sitting at the breakfast table, cradling mugs of coffee. Zach’s eyes dart away from yours the moment he sees you. It makes your heart sink.

“Hi,” you say to them.

“Morning,” Malek replies.

“Feeling better?” Zach asks.

“Headache’s gone,” you answer. He nods, but doesn’t look at you again.

He’s been acting weird and you’re not sure if it’s just guilt over your fall. The memory of you lying in bed with him a few days ago is so clear. What happened between then and yesterday?

You must have had a fight that you’re forgetting about. You’re sure Zach would be selfless enough to pretend that you’re on good terms while you’re concussed, but he can’t hide that he’s on edge.

“Bad sleep?” you ask, looking down at his drink. “You only drink coffee when you’re desperate.”

His eyes finally find yours again, softening when they do. It’s the early morning and he’s wearing sweats and a hoodie and his dark honey hair is a tousled mess, yet he still looks so handsome and it feels unfair to not be able to kiss him.

“You remember that, too,” he says with relief. “Anything else come up?”

“Nothing that feels important,” you admit with a shrug. Disappointment flashes over his features and you chew on your lip in saddened confusion.

Zach hates seeing the hurt on your face. He needs to have this conversation now and get it over with.

“Do you want to get some fresh air?” he asks.

“That sounds nice,” you answer.

“You’re insane,” Malek says. “It’s like the North Pole out there.”

“Exactly,” you reply with a laugh. “It makes you appreciate being inside even more.”

.❅❅❅.

You stand side-by-side on the snow-covered balcony leading out to the back of the cabin, bundled up in your coats, hats, and mittens.

“It’s so pretty out here,” you whisper, gazing out at the frozen lake hugged by patches of trees.

“It is,” Zach says. His breath comes out in a small puff of fog as he ruminates over how to tell you what he needs to tell you.

“All that ice,” you mumble, “and so many different ways to fall on it.”

He cracks a smile.

“Still too soon to joke about it,” he says.

“Even I don’t get a free pass?” you chuckle.

You reach for his hand, feeling his warmth through your mittens. Zach clears his throat and pulls out of your grasp.

“There’s something I haven’t told you,” he begins. His cheeks redden. “And please hear me out. I was doing what I thought was–”

The sound of the door sliding open interrupts him. You both look back to see Malek ambling out onto the balcony with his hands stuffed in his coat pockets.

“Maybe you guys are onto something,” he says. “We didn’t come all the way out here not to appreciate the views, right?”

He stands between you two and despite the tension, you and Zach share a smile, knowingly both irritated yet amused at your friend’s clueless intrusion.

.❅❅❅.

When you head back inside, everyone else has woken up, loudly chattering in the kitchen. You’re pulled into a conversation with Esha and Maggie while Chase asks Zach to help him with starting the fire.

It’s hard to absorb the words your friends are saying after the way you and Zach left things a few minutes ago.

“Can someone turn on some music?” Maggie eventually asks. “I left my phone upstairs.”

“Sure,” you offer.

“No screens!” Esha shouts.

“It’ll just be for a second,” you laugh. You connect to the speaker. When you realize you have an unfamiliar playlist open, you curiously scroll through the songs.

Zach comes back into the kitchen, dusting off his hands.

You tap on the first track in the playlist. A slow, gentle song buzzes from the living room.

Then, it hits you like a wave.

This song played in his car on the way here. You dozed off listening to it. You woke up from a dream.

A dream.

Zach isn’t your boyfriend. He never was.

The puzzle pieces have finally snapped together, and the picture isn’t pretty.

You stare at him, the realization harsh and unsettling. The possibility of a fight you forgot about had run through your head, but the fact that you were never even together is startling.

Zach can see it immediately, the discomfort on your face. He thought he wanted you to figure it out on your own. Now that you have, he regrets not telling you the truth right away.

“Uh, my… phone is about to die,” you stammer, stopping the song. “Be right back.”

You leave the room, and while everyone else carries on conversation, Zach’s heart is in his stomach. He messed up. Possibly irreversibly.

He trails behind you, whispering your name as you rush up the stairs. You turn to face him once you reach your bedroom, nearly breathless.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask, the embarrassment wringing out your insides.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Can you sit down? You need to take it easy.”

“Zach,” you assert. He sighs in worry.

“I was about to tell you outside, but then we got interrupted.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me right away?” you say. “I… oh, my God. I kissed you last night.”

Zach rakes his hand through his hair as you step back and exhale in disbelief.

“The doctor said I shouldn’t stress you out,” he explains. “I didn’t want to confuse you or embarrass you–”

“Too late,” you interrupt with a note of sadness.

It’s a punch to Zach’s gut seeing you so upset because of something he did. He’d actually prefer a real punch right now. At least then, he’d know the pain will fade. The guilt filling his chest feels like it’ll be there forever.

“I – I was doing what I thought was best,” he says. “She said you were fragile and it freaked me out and I promise, the last thing I want to do is upset you or mess with your healing.”

You can see that he’s in distress, but so are you. You spilled your heart out to him, you touched and kissed him while under the impression that you shared a love that wasn’t there.

“Please don’t think I’m a creep or something – I just – I honestly didn’t expect that kiss,” he admits. “I would’ve stopped it if I did.”

You have to look away. Why would he have stopped it? Because you weren’t in your right mind? Or because he wouldn’t ever want you to kiss him?

You hope he has it in him to at least admit if he feels anything for you. This is the time to do it after you embarrassed yourself so immensely. You stare down at the floor, silently praying that he’ll reassure you.

Zach’s throat tightens. Seeing you like this makes his shame so overpowering that his eyes start to burn with tears.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. He steps out of the room before you can see him cry. He doesn’t want to make this about him. He wants to give you space.

You’re left standing alone in the silence, your heart cracked right down the middle.

.❅❅❅.

Zach doesn’t let his gaze linger on you for the rest of the day. He’s terrified he’ll have to face his fear of losing you.

What’ll life look like without you? You met and then all of a sudden, you became a ray of light in his world, always able to make him smile, always on his mind. He can’t stomach making you uncomfortable. You looked so disgusted that he went along with a lie.

After dinner, you’re all sitting in the living room and helping Maggie set up a board game. That’s when Zach finally allows himself to look at you.

You’re sitting in front of the fireplace, quietly reading the instructions to yourself, lips moving with the words. Worrisome curiosity gnaws at him, eager to find out if your mind is clear again.

“Does reading still feel weird or is it okay now?” he asks you from across the room.

“Oh – yeah,” you say, caught off guard. You haven’t spoken since your fight this morning. “It’s okay now.”

“Where have you been, MacLaren?” Maggie laughs. “We established she’s back to normal like three hours ago.”

“Do we need to check your head?” Chase jokes.

Zach forces a laugh. He’s been too lost in his thoughts to absorb himself in the conversations happening around him all day. The possibility of making you uncomfortable simply by being in the same room as you is too heavy to ignore at this point.

“Maybe,” he says. “I should probably turn in.”

“What?” Malek shouts. “I was going to kick your ass at… what’s this game called again?”

“You can kick my ass later,” Zach mumbles, standing up. “Sorry, guys.”

“Lame,” Maggie sighs.

You keep your gaze on him as he leaves the room, but his eyes stay on the floor the entire time.

.❅❅❅.

You gently knock on the boys’ bedroom door, listening to your friends’ enthusiastic competition-fuelled conversations echoing from downstairs.

It’s been fifteen minutes since you started the board game and two since you purposely knocked yourself out of it. You excused yourself to take a shower, but your intention was always to come up and talk to Zach. Even though you’d left things so tense, you need to make sure of one thing.

“Yeah?” His voice on the other side of the door is muffled. You step into the dark room, the hallway light spilling in.

“It’s me,” you whisper into the dimness. “Sorry. You’re not sleeping, are you?”

“No. I can’t,” he admits. You hear a mattress creak. A light turns on with a click. Zach’s standing by a lamp, almost looking wounded.

You step inside, shutting the door behind you, nervous as you settle on the edge of one of the beds. He sits on another bed and faces you.

“I don’t think you’re a creep,” you say. “I just had to make sure you know that, okay?”

Zach lets out a shaky sigh. He purses his lips, nodding slowly, and when you see a shine pool over his eyes, you still.

“Thanks,” he breathes. “I hated the idea of you thinking I took advantage of you or something and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to be around me if you–”

“What? Zach, no. No way.”

When he quietly sniffles, you’re certain he’s holding back tears. You knew he was sensitive, but witnessing him cry over the possibility of making you uncomfortable stings. Especially since he surely felt awkward with you touching him and kissing him, and still played along for you.

He doesn’t deserve to feel like this. You shuffle over, sitting next to him on his bed.

“Listen, I was just really embarrassed,” you say, desperate to console him. “I still am, to be honest.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t have to be. You were injured.”

“Yeah, but… how would you feel if you ran around kissing me just for me to tell you I never wanted you to?”

Zach’s jaw tenses. Is that what you think? That he doesn't want to kiss you? God, he’d spend all day kissing you if you let him.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” you continue, “and I get why you went along with it. I know you were just looking out for me. Sorry that I got so upset.”

“Please don’t be sorry,” he says. “I’m the one who should apologize.”

“We’ll never agree on this,” you say with a quiet laugh. “We’re good, okay? I’m gonna go take a shower and if you’re up for it, you should go downstairs. I’ll come down after and make you that cocoa I promised.”

Zach laughs, genuine and warm, and it makes your heart feel like it’s floating.

“Cool,” he says.

“Cool,” you echo. You stand up, almost out the door when he stops you.

“Hey, can you…”

“What?” you ask.

“Just… be careful in the shower. Don’t slip.”

“I’ll be fine. Jeez, you fall on your head one time,” you quip. He laughs. And his smile doesn’t fade for a while after you leave the room.

.❅❅❅.

You’ve just washed the soap off your skin and are about to turn the water off when you’re plunged into darkness. Standing in the tub, naked, completely blind.

For a moment, you’re afraid this is a symptom of your concussion. But then you realize the power must have gone out. You feel for the tile wall, pushing the shower curtain to the side, more nervous to fall than you’d normally be.

“Hey, you okay in there?” Zach asks through the door. He’s nearly breathless. As soon as the lights went out, he raced up the stairs in worry, using his phone flashlight as a guide.

“Yeah,” you call. “Did the power go out?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Do you need any help or anything? I can get Esha or Maggie.”

You smile to yourself in the dark, not surprised that he’s being so considerate of your comfort. You feel for the robe you left on the counter and wrap yourself in its warmth, then open the door.

Zach’s standing in the hallway, phone flashlight aimed at the floor, concern etched into his face.

“Do we know what happened?” you ask.

Seeing you fresh out the shower feels oddly vulnerable. This is an intimate state for him to witness you in, but you’re not nervous at all, and it’s reassuring to have the hard proof that you’re not uncomfortable around him.

“I think it’s the wind,” he says. “It must have knocked a power line down.”

“Uh oh,” you reply in same way you did when Chase texted about the furnace breaking. He chuckles. At least he can find comfort in the fact that you really do remember everything.

“I’ll get dressed and meet you down there,” you say. “Thanks for checking on me.”

“Of course.”

The lights are still out when you come downstairs in your pajamas. Your friends are huddled around the fire, amber lights and gray shadows casting over their faces and on the walls. The crescent moon gleams in the cloudy sky past the massive windows.

“Were you at least at the end of your shower?” Esha asks with a defeated laugh.

“Yeah,” you say. “I was just about to get out when the room went dark. I was scared my concussion came back.”

“That’d be great timing,” Esha jokes.

“Right? While I’m naked in a tub,” you laugh, settling on the floor next to her. Zach is glad nobody’s looking at him right now, because his cheeks are burning at the mention of you being naked. “Did anyone message the owner?”

“Yeah,” Maggie says. “He’s not answering, but I don’t know what he could even do. I checked online and the whole grid is out. I think we’ll just have to wait it out.”

“Chase cursed us,” Esha says.

“How is this my fault?” he asks.

“You tempted fate with your stupid joke yesterday,” she replies. “The furnace broke. Now everything is broken. Are you happy?”

“Honestly, thrilled,” he replies. “Pretty cool to have the power to control the weather.”

You continue to chat with your friends, feeling the temperature in the cabin slowly fall. Before you know it, it’s been half an hour and the power still isn’t back on. You’re shaking from the cold.

Zach notices the way you’re curled up, arms wrapped around your legs, surely colder than everyone else since you just showered.

“We should keep the fire going,” he says. “I don’t think the power will come back on any time soon.”

“What happened to the annoying optimism we’ve grown to know and love?” Maggie asks.

“I told you guys, I traumatized him when I fell yesterday,” you say. “I broke my brain and his.”

“No offense, but I probably would’ve laughed my ass off if I saw you fall like that,” Chase jokes.

“That’s why I’m glad I was with Zach,” you retort. He smirks to himself as he builds the fire, hoping it’ll radiate more heat for you soon. “I bet when my memory was messed up, you would’ve convinced me that I owed you money or something.”

“Shit,” Chase says. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Shameless,” Esha mutters. “Guys, I think we’re going to have to sleep here in front of the fire. I bet the bedrooms are freezing.”

“Aw, it’ll be like a real sleepover,” Maggie says excitedly. “Let’s do it.”

You’re all in a fit of laughter as you bring mattresses and pillows and blankets down the stairs, already sure that this is going to be a cherished memory. What happened yesterday has given you a new perspective on life, a realization that something as simple as your memory should be appreciated.

And it’s also made your crush on Zach even deeper. He’s done nothing but look out for you, down to pretending to be your boyfriend to ease you into your healing. Now that the embarrassment has faded, you feel guilty that you were ever upset at him.

The six of you lie in front of the crackling fire, wrapped up in duvets as the wind howls outside. You’re closest to Zach, your back inches away from his chest. As you gaze at the flames, you think about the way his lips felt on yours last night.

No wonder you felt so stunned after kissing him. Your mind didn’t know it was your first kiss, but your body did. The thought that it was also your last kiss makes your stomach sink. He’s had every opportunity to tell you if he likes you. He hasn’t. You’re just a friend to him and nothing more.

“Who wants to bet on when the power’s going to be back on?” Malek asks. You hear the click of him unlocking his phone. “It’s 11:30 now. I don’t…”

He suddenly stops talking.

“Did he die? I’m too tired to turn around and check,” Esha says.

“My ex texted me,” Malek says.

“Don’t fall into the trap, man,” Chase says. “What’s done is done.”

“What’s it say?” Zach asks. He stares at you as you lie in front of him, backlit by the fire.

“She’s apologizing,” Malek says. “She wants to get back together.”

“No,” Maggie says sternly. “She dumped you over text, dude.”

You listen to your friends chat, your eyelids growing heavy. Admittedly, you’re worried you’ll dream of Zach again. Having his heart in a delusion just to wake up and realize it’s not really yours hurts too much.

You shuffle your feet to get comfortable, accidentally bumping Zach.

“Sorry,” you whisper over your shoulder. “Was that your kicking foot?”

“Yeah,” Zach replies. “You just blew my entire season.”

You giggle quietly, tightening your blanket around you. You wish you could hold on to a shred of hope that eventually, your feelings for him will fade. The sinking feeling in your gut tells you that’ll never happen.

.❅❅❅.

A harsh droning pulls you out of your sleep. Your eyes squeeze shut, then flicker open when you realize someone is snoring. Loudly.

“Who is that?” Esha whispers into the pitch dark. The fire must have died down.

“Malek,” Chase mutters. “He sounds like a fucking dragon.”

“Malek,” Esha whines. His snoring suddenly stops and you figure she must have kicked him awake.

You chuckle to yourself, gently shuffling in place. That’s when you realize you’re up against a warm, firm surface, your nose brushing against the comforting fragrance you love so much.

You’re cuddled up to Zach. You pull back an inch, your entire body tense.

“How’d I get here?” you try to joke in a whisper. “Sorry.”

“Stay,” he mumbles sleepily. He pulls you in by your hip, squeezing gently in his daze. Your heart thrums and you obey, giving into what you want most.

››› sunday

You can feel the brightness of the sun behind your eyelids. The air isn’t cold. The furnace is buzzing. The power is back on.

You gain your bearings and slowly sit up. Everyone else is still asleep. You smile in admiration as you look at your sleeping friends. You love them all so much. You turn to see Zach, his lips in a cute pout, and you accept the fact that you love him, too, in a deeper way.

Friends. You’re friends. You’ll keep telling yourself that until your heart believes it.

You quietly make your way to the kitchen, determined to cook a big breakfast for everyone. Five minutes pass before Maggie walks in with a tired smile, commenting that something smells good.

“Sit down,” you invite her. “Coffee? Tea? I’m making a thank-you breakfast.”

“What for?” she asks.

“You all took such good care of me,” you say.

“Yeah, because Zach basically threatened us to when you first got here,” she laughs. “I’ve never seen him so intense. Last night, when the power went out? He booked it upstairs to find you. He’s been so worried about you.”

“Yeah, I think he still feels responsible for me falling,” you say.

She sits up to look over the wall into the hallway to check that the coast is clear, then waves you closer. You turn off the range and sit next to her.

“I think it’s more than that,” she says.

“No,” you say with a small laugh. “No way.”

.❅❅❅.

Zach shuffles awake, exhaling deeply. He drags his hand over the blanket next to him, looking for you before he realizes that’s what he’s doing.

It felt so nice when you turned towards him in a half-asleep daze, nuzzling your head into his chest. It took him a while to fall asleep simply because of how hard his heart was drumming.

He steps over his sleeping friends. Then, he hears a hushed conversation getting louder as he heads down the hallway.

“...think so?” Maggie says.

“No,” you respond. “Okay, I wasn’t going to tell you and Esha until after we got back, but… I was so out of it at the hospital that I thought he was my boyfriend and… he actually went along with it.”

“What?” she says.

You’re talking about him. He’s about to clear his throat to announce himself and pretend like he hasn’t heard anything, but then he hears your next words.

“I know he didn’t want me acting like that with him, but he tolerated it just so I wouldn’t get freaked out when I realized my memory was messed up,” you confess. “He was so awkward about it after. Trust me. He does not like me back.”

Zach slowly steps back towards the living room and goes up the stairs, trying to absorb what he just heard, trying to make sense of the fact that you not only truly think that he doesn’t want your affection, but also that you’re genuinely disappointed about it.

Back. You don’t think he likes you back.

This might just be the happiest he’s ever felt.

.❅❅❅.

You love how pleased your friends look at the breakfast spread you’ve made for them as they trickle into the kitchen.

“It’s a good thing it was so cold overnight,” you announce. “Nothing in the fridge went bad.”

Zach is the last one to come in and your heart, the traitor, skitters when you meet his striking blue eyes. How long until you can look into those eyes and not think about how it feels to be held by him, how it feels to kiss him?

“Sleep well?” you ask to make casual conversation. He settles in the last empty chair at the table.

“Yeah. My old man pajamas are really toasty,” he says.

You nod, skin buzzing. Does he remember cuddling you in the middle of the night? By the way his eyes linger on you, you think he just might, and in this simple, small moment, you feel a pinch of hope that he feels the same way you do.

You glance up at the clock hanging above the table to see it’s just past nine, leaving less than two hours before check-out. You try to enjoy the last little bit you have with your friends before you split up to clean and leave the cabin the way you found it.

.❅❅❅.

The cabin is spotless, the cars are packed up, and you’re hugging your friends goodbye as light snowflakes gently fall from the white sky.

You’ve been giddy with anticipation at the thought of having an hour and a half drive back to campus with Zach, even though he left such a confusing knot in your chest. Despite everything, he’s still a friend you love to spend time with.

“Have a nice drive!” Chase says as he heads towards Esha’s car, raising his brows at Zach.

After breakfast, Chase had asked him to join you two on the ride home to have more space than he would have sharing a backseat with Malek, but Zach apologized and told him he’d rather not.

When Chase insisted he tell him why, Zach didn’t see any reason to keep it in any longer. He admitted to liking you and said he’d finally tell you on the way home.

“Bold,” Chase had said. “And if she doesn’t like you, too? That’ll be like, the most awkward car ride ever.”

“I’ll take the risk,” Zach replied with a smile.

.❅❅❅.

“Wow,” you say as you drive out onto the main road. “I never made you that hot cocoa, did I?”

“You didn’t,” he says, pretending to be deeply displeased.

“Will you ever forgive me?” you play along.

“I’ll need to do some reflecting first,” Zach replies. You laugh, relieved that you two are joking like old times before this past weekend through you for a loop.

“Fair,” you say. You plug your phone into his speaker system. “Let’s see if I can unlock any other memories. And don’t tell me it’s still too soon to joke about it.”

Zach chuckles, cocking his head.

“I’ll let it slide,” he says. “I woke up in a good mood.”

“You’re basically always in a good mood,” you respond.

Zach can understand why you’d think that. It’s because he’s never been in a bad mood around you. Life is bright and easy and rich when you’re around. And it’s been even richer since he overheard what you said this morning.

“We passed a waterfall while you slept on the way up here,” Zach says. “Would you want to make a stop to check out the view?”

“Yeah,” you agree, pushing away the reminder of what you’d dreamt about during that nap. “Sounds cool.”

.❅❅❅.

Crystal blue water rushes down in an endless torrent, crashing down to the surface with a dull roar. You’re in awe of how ethereal the waterfall is, white mist bubbling over the stream bordered by snowy land. The snow is still falling gently, the atmosphere cool but not cold, as if the earth is apologizing for the windstorm last night.

You and Zach stand at a height behind a railing, his car parked a few feet away on the side of the road. He purposely slowed down so your friends would drive far enough ahead to not notice you’d made a stop.

Now that he’s here, he’s painfully nervous. Worst case scenario, you’re not interested in dating him, and it’ll lead to, like Chase said, the most awkward car ride ever. He’s sure the remaining hour journey back to campus would feel like ten hours if this goes wrong.

But he’s always been optimistic and last night as he fell asleep with you in his arms, he thought back to every moment in your friendship when he had a spark of hope that he had a place in your heart like you do in his.

Over the months he’s known you, he got into the habit of trying to dull the spark, reminding himself of how much he had to lose if you didn’t return his feelings.

Deep down, he always knew he’d eventually give in; he has so much love to give you and the thought of keeping it contained when you might want it was getting harder to bear.

You could break his heart if you don’t want him, but it’d break his heart even more if you do and he doesn’t do anything about it.

“Wow,” you say in a whisper, taking a photo of the waterfall with your phone. “I shouldn’t post this, should I? Our friends might be mad that we didn't include them.”

“I think they’ll understand,” Zach replies. “I told Chase… uh…”

You lower your phone, looking up at him, unable to stifle your smirk because of how cute he looks from the way the breeze has messed up his hair. The road behind you is clear and quiet, the mid-morning sun offering mild warmth.

“You told Chase…?” you say.

Zach licks his lips, his mouth gently opening before he finds the words. He shifts to face you, eyes searching your pretty features, heart in his throat.

“I told him I wanted to be alone with you,” he says. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop this morning, I swear… but I… I do like you. Back.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You look down at the snowy concrete, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“I heard you right… right?” Zach mumbles.

“Back,” you repeat softly, finding the bravery to look back up at him. “Yeah. That’s what I said.”

A sweet, honeyed smile grows on his face. He tilts his head slightly, looking at you the exact way you’d dreamt he would. How you always wanted him to, but convinced yourself he wouldn’t.

“I didn’t tolerate you acting like we were dating,” he says. “I liked it and I felt bad for liking it because it wasn’t real.”

You mirror his smile, your heart full of love and joy and the comfort that he’s been giving you since the day you met him.

“I was just doing what I always wanted to do,” you confess. His eyes glint with endearment as he brings a hand up to gently cup your face.

“I really enjoyed being your pretend boyfriend,” Zach says, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as you look up at him through your lashes. “Can I be your real one now, though?”

You sigh softly, nodding as he stares at you in nothing short of infatuation. He leans closer by a half-inch, silently testing if you’re okay with it.

You close the distance and your lips meet with a sweet, gentle tenderness like they’ve done this before. You pull back, remembering that they have.

“Can we count that as our first kiss?” you say.

“Absolutely,” he chuckles.

››› one week later

You’re stepping out of the kitchen in Zach’s apartment, tightly gripping the tray of six mugs filled with hot cocoa.

“Whoa,” Zach says, quickly standing up from his spot on the floor when you enter the living room. “Careful.”

“Her concussion is gone, man,” Chase says. “You have the test results to prove it. She can handle carrying a tray.”

“He’s helping her because he’s a gentleman,” Esha states. “Do you know what that word means or are you committed to being a caveman forever?”

“Caveman,” he repeats with a grin.

“Don’t give him any,” Esha mutters. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

You laugh as you set the tray down on the coffee table with Zach’s help. You settle in your spot on the couch as Zach sits on the floor in front of you again, tucked in between your legs, the insides of your knees pressed against his shoulders.

“I have to say, I called it,” Maggie says as she gazes between you and Zach with a big smile on her face. “Tell everyone how I called it.”

“You called it,” you say, putting your hands on your boyfriend’s broad shoulders, gently squeezing.

Her eyes dart to Esha and you share a knowing grin. You’d had private conversations about how if you and Zach were always a little obvious, Esha and Chase are the definition of the word.

“Ow,” Malek snips, holding the steaming mug away from his face. “I burned myself.”

“It’s hot cocoa, Malek,” Chase says. “It’s literally in the name.”

“Really good, though,” Malek says, giving you a thumbs up.

“Thanks,” you laugh.

The tray is eventually littered with empty mugs and you stand to clear away the mess, your heart glowing with the feeling it always has when you’re surrounded by your friends.

You’re scrubbing a soapy sponge over a mug when you hear Zach’s voice behind you.

“You don’t have to wash anything.”

You look over your shoulder, smiling.

“It’s okay,” you say. He approaches you, hugging you from behind as you stand at the sink, surrounding you in his warmth as your friends talk a room away.

He always enjoyed moments of privacy with you, but since that day by the waterfall, every second with you is more than perfect.

“So?” you say. “Did you get your wish? Was the cocoa life-changing?”

“Ask me again what you asked on the way up to the cabin,” he murmurs. “What I want most in the world.”

“What do you want most–”

“You,” he interrupts. You laugh breathily as he kisses the side of your neck. “I just couldn’t answer honestly the first time you asked. But it was always you.”

You turn the faucet off and tilt your head back, looking up at the ceiling with a smile on your face as he leaves kisses on your neck and holds you tighter.

It was always him, too.

(the end)