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baepsays · 3 months ago

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High School Oblivion ⸻ Gojo Satoru x reader

description ᯓ★ while going through his high school yearbook when helping his mother clean out their storage, Gojo's hands get stuck on a page with a picture of this one particular person. he cannot help but reminisce about the past as now a 30 year old and wonder how things could have turned out if everything went down differently.

cw ᯓ★ fluff, sfw, implicated angst, really mild angst, enemies to friends, one sided love, pining, academic rivals, lowkey bully Gojo, teasing and name calling—nothing really extreme, high school au, frenemies really, usage of fem oriented pronouns, reader is depicted as a fem presenting person, reader is depicted shorter than Gojo, written basically from Gojo's pov, time skips, nosebleed, sorry but use of y/n l/n i know that can be cringy but whatever.

𐙚 Playlist I used while writing this.

Satoru is a good son. In fact, he's kind, diligent, genuine, obedient, and- "Stop trying to slack off and get back to work." Well, his mother might disagree.

"You cannot be asking me to help you and also boss me around mom." Satoru says with a signature pout. Having Gojo Satoru as your son and raising him, doesn't really immunize a person to his pouts. Or maybe his mother is biased because he looks exactly like his father when he's trying to sway her as well and he pulls out what seems to be a Gojo family weapon. But naturally she has her own defenses.

"I'm only making you do this because you left all this behind yourself Sato, why didn't you take some of this or clean it when you moved out?"

"Wow just because I am a grown adult I cannot believe my own mother is treating me like one. Wow, what has the world come to." Satoru exclaimed like the drama queen he is.

"Stop being dramatic and help me properly you know I can't lift up all these boxes you have essentially filled with garbage. Clean out these last 3 boxes piled up in categories of what you need and what to throw out, I'll go check on your father."

It seems his whining doesn't always work on his mother the way it does on his father. Oh well. Though this has been such a nostalgic Sunday, being back in his childhood home, well second one, the neighborhood he grew up in for the better part of his teenage and young adulthood, getting forced into helping out his mother, and the smell of his father's cooking on a weekend. Time might as well revert back.

While cleaning out one of the, what seems never ending, boxes of childhood belongings— Gojo Satoru stumbles upon something he hasn't seen in probably 12 years. His high school yearbook.

It is a natural thing to go into the realm of nostalgia when stumbling upon things like this. Flipping through the pages he really grasps how much he has already forgotten. I mean that is given, it's been 12 years since he graduated. It takes him 12 months to find his lost socks.

Looking through the pictures he realizes how much everything has changed. The length of Suguru's hair has changed, as well as Shoko's. Nanami has gotten more chiseled or tired; he cannot say exactly, Utahime finally has a decent haircut. And look at him! Oh how naive he was, look at those big blue eyes with nothing behind them, covered by those obnoxious pairs of shades. Maybe some things haven't changed, never mind. He's probably never letting go of his obnoxious collection of shades.

As he flips through the pages his fingers get stuck on a particular page. And the memories just come flooding in without any effort.

[BACK IN HIGH SCHOOL, fifteen years ago]

Gojo Satoru saw you for the first time at the school gates on his first day during first year, at a new high school.

He was not very fond of the idea of going to school in a new city, away from the place he grew up in, unfamiliar people, and joining in the middle of the year when everyone has already somewhat settled down, it unnerved him. Unfortunately, throwing a fit about staying in a house his parents already sold and made all the arrangements to move to another place, couldn't help him much.

Some random kid showing up in the middle of the year is just a recipe to be bullied, or at least be prone to such jabs. He had decided prior to his first day, that he would go in with a stone cold face and be brave through this. Or, plan B.

While he was heavily contemplating standing in front of the main gate, the last bell already rang, he was officially late for his first day. Well he arrived a lot earlier, then somehow everyone passed by him and the final bell rang and he just stood there. And he was thinking about making a run for it, that was the plan B, taking a train back to Tokyo, and from there on he will figure it out. His parents will definitely know, find him, maybe this ordeal will finally make them understand how serious he was about not settling in here, even if that came at the cost of being grounded for life.

Satoru almost turned around to walk away from his new high school, his new city— his new home essentially— that is when a breeze of air gushed past him. When he looked forward, past the gates of the school, there was a fluff of hair, in the said school's uniform with a bag in her hands; dangling and teetering to fall on the ground, a key chain bouncing by one of the zippers— cute little orange cat, bouncing on her bag. She was running with all her might to make it, unlike him. That is all he saw of her, but he smelled much more. The lingering smell of her perfume, or soap or just- whatever it may be.

Lemons? Bergamot maybe. Distinctly citrus, not the sour kind, or the room freshener kind— a sweet smell of ripe citrus in the summer sun, kind of citrus. And flowers, peonies to be exact, that was very apparent.

Satoru, to this day, has never smelled that kind of tantalizing fragrance. To this day, he still remembers exactly how he stood there dumb; eyes wide open, mouth agape, and nothing but citrus with peonies haunting his chemoreceptors.

That day he tried to run after you, to put a name and face to the fragrance that in an instant hypnotized him, and to return that orange cat. Unfortunately, the teetering little cat keychain did fall off your bag, and when he ran after you to return it, he couldn't catch up to your haste. And since that day he didn't see you until a whole month passed.

That month he met his lifelong circle of friends, his best of friends. But it wasn't easy for neither of the sides to become acquainted, he was in a broody depressed rage about shifting and had already made up his mind that ‘well everyone must hate me’ — teenagers. Anyway, the first day he sat beside Geto Suguru he barked at Suguru for no reason, poor suguru was just being friendly and kind. So yes that broke into a little kerfuffle, got a lot of scolding from their homeroom teacher, Mr. Yaga. Later Suguru still dragged Satoru with him to eat lunch with his friends.

This is important to the story because, nostalgia and well, Satoru realized you were literally in the class next door, because of Shoko.

One day, when Suguru and him were irritating Kento, with a giggly Haibara, it took him only 2 weeks to drop his ‘you don't understand mom’ & ‘i am above you people’ act.

don't get it wrong, he still thinks he's better than most people, which isn't entirely wrong but god is it annoying. And that is exactly how you felt about Gojo Satoru upon your first impression of him.

On that fateful day you went to look for Shoko, and found her, as usual at the school basketball court with her friends, with an addition of white fluff. You had heard of Gojo Satoru a lot at that point, the girls in your class went to gather out of their class to check him out, from what you heard he picked a fight with Suguru that day. Off the get go you did not think much of him, probably some pretty face with connections and money to spare by getting into unnecessary trouble.

Satoru didn't see you entering the basketball court that day, but he smelled you. In the past month there had been few instances where his nostrils would be randomly engulfed by that citrusy peony smell, and he would halt in his pace to whip his head around to find the source. But alas, by the time he would turn around, you'd be nowhere to be found, and your perfume would slowly fade out.

And here you were, in all your physical tangible glory, for a second Satoru was taken aback seeing you there—somewhere somehow, before your fragrance could reach him, something about you struck him right in his throat. Maybe it was his subconscious, but he halted right where he was, mid match with Kento and Suguru. When was the ball snatched away from him, or when your bergamot and peonies perfume took over his senses; neither could be pinpointed. All he knew was that— it was you.

It was the girl with messed up collars and messy hair. Who smells divine. And the orange cat keychain!— Which has been sitting on his desk for a month. Satoru couldn't care less about Suguru egging him on about making a basket, nor did he see Kento slowly retire to the audience benches with Haibara— he stood there, staring at you, giving back Shoko some notebook; not important. He needed to go up to you. He needed to introduce himself! He couldn't let you slip away now.

So right before you told Shoko you'd be taking your leave, he rushed over there, and haphazardly blurted out— “you smell.”

“Excuse me!?” you looked at him flabbergasted.

“Satoru, why are you trying to pick a fight?” Shoko had to intervene. Because what a horrible way to introduce two of your friends to each other.

“Listen Gojo, I do not know what your problem is, but I'd advise you to keep yourself and your opinions to yourself.” You warned him before storming out of the basketball court with furrowed eyebrows and red ears.

“Damn dude, do you even know her? Why would you even say that?” Suguru was honestly very entertained by this exchange that day, as he was thoroughly entertained by you two's interactions throughout high school.

Satoru didn't mean to start off on such a contemptuous note with you, he didn't really mean it. I mean- he did mean what he said, it's just his phrasing was poor. He has always been reprimanded about this problem by his mother since he was a kid, his father did find it extremely funny. At times, he too found his poor choice of vocabulary funny, unfortunately it wasn't one of those circumstances.

Later he had explained this to Shoko, telling Suguru anything was useless, he was too preoccupied with reenacting his failed attempt at making a good first impression on you. He then only revealed why he has been looking for the girl who smells like bergamot and peonies—which he didn't use as a descriptor of you, that much detail and all of them are on his neck about being a little obsessed creep. He didn't go into any details, he just told them he met you on his first day, at the school gates and you were late, also about how you dropped your keychain. After all that is why he ran after you that day to find you and give it back to you, but unfortunately he got blind sighted by your perfume, right? Well that is what he is willing to tell others and himself. At least he knew your name now.

And surprisingly you also knew him? Did you also see him at the gates that day? Or did you see him in the hallways? Or with Shoko? Or-Why was he so concerned anyway? All he needed was to return the keychain and get over this whole thing, you didn't seem like a very easygoing person. But maybe that had to do with his poor sentence structuring.

Next time Satoru saw you, you were in your class. It was before the morning bell rang, he showed up at the door by the end of your classroom, to seem more inconspicuous. He was looking around to find you in the midst of the flock of girls gathered around him to enquire about his sudden visit, so much for being inconspicuous. Fortunately, he saw you soon enough at the front of the classroom in a seat by the windows — “Y/N!”

and everyone turned to stare at you, ‘great’—wasn't exactly what you were feeling. When you walked up to Satoru, you couldn't help but narrow your eyes at the guy. “Did not think we were on a first name basis.”

“Listen, I think we got off on the wrong foot, i-” Gojo tried to explain.

“I think we got off on exactly the right foot, I mean who just gets all up into someone's face and calls them smelly?” Your voice was already going up quite a bit.

“No, listen, that was a misunderstanding. I mean I did mean what I said, but-” he tried to, horribly, explain himself.

“Seriously, your audacity is immense, not only did you call me smelly, but now you're showing up to my class to pick a fight!?” you definitely lost some cool at that point. Everyone who wasn't already congregated, also gathered around, inside the classroom and outside in the hallway.

“First of all, will you stop cutting me off? I am trying to explain the situation here!” And now Satoru was also losing it.

“Explain? Explain what? Explain how you are above everything and literal incarnation of God or something? Oh did my lowly perfume perhaps irritate your nose hair?” The sarcasm clearly entailed what kind of image you have already built in your head about him. Perhaps it was from all sorts of exaggerated rumours about him. Though you didn't seem like one to fall for such petty rumours, like how he was an undercover actor or prince. But he was sure what kind of a person you thought this guy was—an arrogant asshole.

“Do you even know me?” said Satoru, now starting to become really irritated by your—in his opinion—unnecessary attitude. The last month has been hard enough as is. It took him time to settle down and not let people’s stares or baseless rumors get to him—some of them might have been funny if he was being honest. It was the friends he made in his first week who held him back from getting into more fights than he already did, and had his back against all the whispers.

“Do you know me well enough to shout my first name in front of my entire class!?” Well Satoru didn't have a comeback to that. “Exactly. So why don't you keep yourself and your arrogance out of my sight.” You grimaced.

“Arrogance? Oh please shortcake. You sure have a lot of words to spout with that height of yours.” Now he was just being petty.

“Oh because being a streetlight is so gratifying!”

“At least I don't cut people off mid sentence then talk shit!” and he has completely lost his cool.

“Oh don't put on pretence! Like you are some saint!? For who? The girls who flock you like some shiny stone?”

“Oh don't be salty just because I didn't give you some attention shortcake.” He was trying to get under your skin. He's now losing sight of his actual motive.

“Yes, because I am dying to be acknowledged by your highness, and how my smell is bothering his expensive nose!”

“Listen. That was entirely a misunderstanding, and you're not even trying to hear me out. You are the one picking a fight!”

“Oh I am sorry, I just can't stand pretentious people.” you stab your last quip with a glare, stabbing right through his chest, all while maintaining perfect eye contact.

“You know what. Nevermind shortcake, this was a waste of time.”

“I didn't even ask for your presence in the first place.” Your eyes deadpanned, remained trained on him, bored yet bothered. Both of your faces mere inches away, when did it get there? No idea. He was cranking his head down to glare back into your eyes, losing all motivation to return your keychain. And before he could come up with any further retort, the bell rang. Thankfully.

Word of this interaction spread through the entire school like wildfire.

A few things were instantly established in the passing months since Satoru’s arrival—he was going to be popular, he is good at almost everything, and that he got along with almost everyone; even the people he did not have a good rapport with at the beginning, now he seemingly got along with them perfectly.

But, there was one person who could not stand him. And that person happened to be you. And everyone was aware of this. The students, respective and common friends, the teachers, heck even the principal knew.

Yet in the next 6 months since Satoru joined the school, he found himself crossing paths with you quite often. First he really did just avoid you; he gave up on giving back the keychain, that he did out of pettiness. He really did want to return it, but unless and until you dropped your attitude he was not letting the cat chain go, but he did take good care of it— it sat nicely on his desk, gave it a little bed made out of a soft napkin he got from his mom. Once in a while he would dust it and give it pats, and also speak to it. Yeah, after dinners when he would be studying he would speak to that little guy. He was feeling real friendly with it, which made him feel more bad for it, because at the end of the day it belonged to you.

In the instances where Satoru and you would run into each other; you could be laughing out loud and having a fun time and then, you would see him across the hallway and your face would morph into a scowl. It irked him, in a good way, it made him feel excited that he had such a sway on you. Even if he was convinced it was not that one single—incorrectly interpreted—comment about your perfume, which made you have such a poor opinion of him; there has to have been a deeper reason. From what he has gathered, you are the highest scoring student in the entire year, the teachers have a very good opinion of you, and you are helpful towards your peers— a straight A’s student, and their sophomore student body council secretary, a real model student. Even though you would mostly keep to yourself, you were still pretty well known by others.

Yet when you saw him, you would lose your cool. In fact from what he heard, the biggest takeaway from the fight you two had was that, ‘woah she can be like that?’, because people apparently had never seen you speak over a certain decibel. That stroked his ego. Made him feel sort of special, got him all giddy.

He was yet to realize the gravity of those feelings. The impact of the rush he felt when he smelled your sweet and citrusy fragrance when you passed by him, speeding up to lose sight of him faster. And he would always be left behind, to stand still, taking it all in.

His little teasing remarks, pranks, and fight initiators started soon after the fight you two had that day; started small really. Calling you shortcake constantly, interrupting you when you would go to their class to make some announcement on behalf of the student body. Trying to get better grades than you. Going over to the student body room, using his class president Kento as an excuse, to annoy you. Stealing your spectacles on days you would not put in contacts, trying it on and copying your mannerisms. His personal favorite was to snatch away any books, notebooks, or papers in your hands; to then hold it over his head. The whole thing about you jumping to try and get it out of his hands—which was an impossible task for you—gave him the opportunity to smell your scent much better.

During one of such instances, where he was holding one of the student council papers over his head, prolonging your work, he got a whiff of your shampoo. It smelled like fruits, strawberries and more citrus—it smelled like orange this time. This was fatal. The notes of bergamot and peonies were threatening his sanity as is, and now there were strawberries. He got so trancened by your presence that when his hand lowered involuntarily, you took the chance to grab onto his shoulder, to use him as a support to reach for your papers—he stood there looking into your squinting eyes as you retrieved the papers from his hand, until you walked off muttering curses at him.

And he just stood staring at your back. His eyes lingered on you long enough to see you turn back and throw a glare at him as you made a turn to disappear from his line of sight.

This went on, the teasing and squabbling, the name callings, use of the words shortcake and streetlight became significantly more frequent in your respective lexicons. Satoru loved using his pretty privileges to get the girls in your class to do his bidding, and had them sending you off somewhere without mentioning his name, the naive enchanted girls would abide with no questions asked. And when you would show up, he would throw a fake snake at you, or jumpscare you—though this was a more rare occurrence than his regular teasing, just so you would not get too used to this sort of pranks that it would lose its effect on you.

To him the idea of you was like this puzzling question nagging and straining on his mind, much like your physical self. But you got him excited and riled up. Also a little annoyed at the fact that you do not think of him worthy enough to spare any time. Which is why he came up with these mischievous ideas to elicit reactions out of you.

Nothing was more satisfying than to see you break under his little ventriloquism.

The dynamics took a slight turn when you two became second year students.

On the fateful morning of the day when the results for first year’s finals came out—you found yourself standing dumbfounded, looking at your full name on the bulletin board, in second place.

You came in second.

Which is big! An amazing achievement. But it didn't feel like it. Especially when your name was displayed second to Gojo Satoru. He outdid you, he really did. Getting better grades than you in random tests and what not was one thing, then outranking you and ruining your plan for a perfect streak—was another thing. The horror and embarrassment of standing in front of the huge display of the grades, surrounded by everyone, having your failures announced in broad daylight, hearing everyone whisper about you—had you standing there like a cold unmoving statue.

So when Satoru got around to finally stroll in with ease, way after the results were announced, to come up to stand directly behind you—because as always the first person his eyes wander to find in a crowd is—you. He couldn't figure out why you glared at him differently, there was this underlying somber and a tilting glaze in your eyes. It was as if any moment you were going to break down into tears and his presence was anything but welcomed.

Praise his tongue, because thankfully that day it held itself back. Thankfully his senses caught on to what was happening. Coming in first or second or last did not matter much to him, because what mattered most to him was to simply get under your skin, essentially the very reason why he ended up on the top of the list—but you did not find this funny or amusing. And it wasn't your usual annoyance and dismay of his antics, he really felt like he had done something to actually hurt you.

And which in return hurt him tenfold. Knowingly or unknowingly, Gojo Satoru bled himself a wound that he didn't know how to stitch close.

He didn't know what exactly hurt more, the fact you ran away from there that day after he arrived, without a single word. Or the fact that you've been completely ignoring his existence since that day. It has been really painful for him, because everytime he would get a glimpse of you or a whiff of you—you'd disappear from his sphere, as soon as humanly possible. He made every effort to try to speak to you. The rejoice he felt about being assigned to the same classroom as you this year, was starting to wear off. Especially when you made it explicitly clear through your actions that you had no intention of speaking to him or acknowledging his existence, more than ever. If you were helping out class president Nanami Kento with distributing papers, you would hand over his papers as nonchalantly as possible. In one of such several instances, he gave up on giving you space to get back to your usual self, and grabbed your wrist to explain himself.

“L/n, listen, i am really sorry alright. I don't know how it happened. I swear I did not mean to hurt you like that, I swear! I was just-” he blabbed on without making much sense, whispering as discreetly as possible. Even though the entire school was aware you two were not on even speaking terms anymore. He did not want to put you in a position where everyone made a spectacle out of you.

“I have better things to do, Gojo.” as always you would cut him off, without even sparing him as much as even a glare, then yank your wrist out of his grasp to go on your merry way.

He really did whatever he could, following you around like a kicked puppy, leaving notes on your desk, which was fortunately assigned right before his own desk—he was not sure if it made things a little easier for him, or a hundred times harder. It stung to find those notes crumbled up and sitting on his own desk later. Stung to sit behind you, when you refused to spare a glare or two his way, even some sharp remarks, or curses directed at him. The smell of sweet citrus and peonies did not help. The teachers would call him out more often than not for being distracted in class. Poor guy was really going through it.

The nail in his coffin was, when it had already been three weeks since the new year started. Three weeks and three days of you completely ignoring his pathetic attempts at saying sorry to you. On the fourth day of the fourth week, he found you in the teacher's lounge, speaking to one of your subject teachers;

“Goodness L/n. The year just started and you are already slacking off? Forgetting to submit the student council work on time, then forgetting your class assignments!? Is there something going on? No surprise Gojo surpassed you, do you understand the gravity of that? That careless guy outranked you. And you are making no efforts to rectify that! If things go on like this, next year you might come second from last.” he really crossed a line there.

If it was in Satoru’s capacity, he would’ve probably gone in and punched the man straight square in the jaw. He never really liked him to begin with. It was not about the fact he called Satoru careless, or the fact he always finds the flaws in Satoru—it was entirely about how he treated you. And it was not just in this instance, the guy has always been harsh and judgemental towards you, from what he heard it started since one day you corrected his mistake during class. And he was known to be not tolerant of anyone being better than him, especially students.

Satoru almost broke into the room, when his eyes locked with yours. You stood in front of the guy with your hands tightly gripped by your side, facing the door. Your already glossy eyes started to almost overflow with tears when your gaze fell on him, your body was slightly trembling. How you managed to blink away those tears, is beyond him. In the brief moment where you looked at him and looked away to control your emotions, making an effort to not break down into tears in front of the room full of teachers, the teacher who was scolding you, and your homeroom teacher Mr. Yaga who was giving you pitiful glaces—he knew interrupting will only make things worse for you.

More than anyone, you did not want to cry in front of Satoru. And Satoru was cognizant of that fact better than maybe even yourself.

So, he did the most sensible thing he could in that moment, for once, he simply stood outside with his back to the wall outside of the teacher’s room, and did not dare to look inside. And he just waited while remaining unnoticeable. Waiting for you to come out, he did not care for the looks thrown his way by the students roaming in the hallways, as long as they did not spare a glance towards you and try to snoop. What did he even want to say to you when you came out of there? He had no idea, and he knew he was the last person you would want to see right now, but for him you are the first person he wants to see everyday after he wakes up—so he could not just let you be on your own in this condition. Because he knew better than anyone, you were not one to wear your heart on your sleeves.

Satoru essentially blended in there, to the point you did not even notice him standing there when you left the room in a hurry, and headed the opposite way from your class. Recess was already over, that guy kept you in there for the entire recess period. ‘Goodness did you even eat?’ was something that crossed his mind among various spiteful and angry words he was muttering under his breath directed towards that teacher.

You were never one to miss a class, cutting classes without any valid reason was out of the question. But honestly if you tried to go in the class right now, he would have probably dragged you somewhere else himself. So he did the next best thing—followed you from a distance to wherever you were going. No one is going to care or notice if you two were gone at the same time, right? Well at least he could make up some excuse and take all the blame himself. He was not exactly known for his attendance record anyway, the sole reason why he made sure not to miss school was because you barely ever skipped school.

That is how he found you in the school yard at the back, near the flower patch the students planted, against the big Momiji tree. Where you are found most times during free periods, reading whatever book you may be reading at the moment. This time you were just crying, well it is not that he could see you, but he could tell. You were sitting with your knees to your chest, face buried in your hands, your entire figure was clearly trembling even from afar. Soft sobs jabbed his ears as he got closer and made his chest hurt. He slowly walked up to the tree trying not to scare you.

“Stop lurking like a creep.” You said with your head still down.

“Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you.” He said softly, and went to take a seat beside you, unsure if you were going to run away from him again.

You laid your legs flat on the grass and rested your back against the tree when he made his way over to you. When you looked up at him, eyes bloodshot red, glassy with tears, and more tears running down your cheeks, pooling at your chin— with your lips slightly jutted out and eyebrows bunched up in a frown, he just fell on his knees in front of you. Happerhazadly pulled out his handkerchief, and offered to take it.

“Is this funny to you?” you said with a frown. He knew you were upset but he couldn't help but think, and mindlessly said it out loud—

“Cute.”

“Ah so this is cute to you!? You are finding my misery and embarrassment cute. You seriously-” he cuts you off mid sentence.

“Will you ever actually let me speak!?” He takes a second and continues “Goodness shortcake, I meant you are cute. The tongue you've got on you, could wound thousands of soldiers and that brain of yours could beat Usain Bolt in a race.” He let out a short chuckle as he shook his head slightly and wiped your face with his handkerchief.

He gingerly wiped away the tears falling down your cheeks and chin, and the accumulated tears in the corners of your eyes. With utmost gentle touch he cleaned you up, which was characteristically contradictory.

You looked away from him without any retort. Too occupied with the fact he called you cute, to even notice that little gesture. So you further leaned back onto the tree as if it'll engulf you and make you not sit here with him and confront this heavy air hanging between you two. But also, who is stopping you from getting up and walking away?

Things have always been odd when Gojo Satoru was involved. Somehow after everything, time and time again you found yourself breaking down all your walls to let this guy have a peek at your most authentic self—someone who is envious, easily irritable, not the patient and tolerating soft-spoken girl everyone knows. And it irks you. It claws at your skin that he has been nothing but himself since day one; even before entering the gates of the school, he didn't think of the consequences but just turned his back to it and almost walked away. Yet you were rushing to make it on time, to not have any smear on your perfect record. Even if you were late only because you were up studying until late for the midterms looming over, you could not excuse one slip up.

Why didn't he run the opposite direction of the school but instead chased after you?—you couldn't pinpoint the answer. Everything about him just simply made your head scramble, enough so you didn't even realize you lost your beloved cat keychain until later during lunch. Even when you searched around everywhere, traced back your steps, and looked for it on the route back home; it was nowhere to be found. You cried yourself to sleep that night thinking how you lost the keychain, which had a cat who looked exactly like the cat you once loved and cherished. It was unfortunate enough to have lost him at such a young age, but the key chain helped to have his presence as if guiding you through obstacles.

And without him, things have been a mess. The only explanation you could rationalize was that Gojo Satoru was the one to blame for everything. If he hadn't turned back and ran in after you, you would've been more receptive to your keychain dropping instead of this giant guy running behind you, and wouldn't have lost it. If only he didn't become friends with Shoko and the others you wouldn't have to possibly interact with him. And then he wouldn't know of your existence and try to make it his mission to have your life fall apart.

“I'm sorry.”

What surprising words even for him. There have been very few people in his life he has ever genuinely apologized to. He could count them all on all his fingers, but he never expected to be where he was currently.

“I am sorry for saying that you smell, which I did not mean in the way it came off, I am just really bad with my words. I meant you smell really nice.” His face was completely serious and there was no trace of mockery or jest.

“I just- not to be a creep, I saw you on my first day here. At the school gates.” His eyes softened and his body started to fidget. He almost seemed—nervous?

“I almost ran back to Tokyo that day. I wasn't really, well to put it simply, happy about the whole moving thing. And if you hadn't rushed past me that day, I probably would've gone with my plan.” He throws an easy smile in your direction. “If you hadn't dropped this—” He digs around his pockets and encloses something in his fist.

“Maybe it would have been much harder for me and my parents to start off here. I am almost glad you dropped this little guy that day.” When he opened his fist, in the space between you two, there rested your lost keychain with the cat who reminded you of your dead pet cat.

Upon the sight of your beloved cat (keychain), your mouth opened a little with an audible gasp. Your hand went up timidly to touch it on his palm, actively sending shivers down his spine at the brush of your fingertips. All he could focus his eyes on was your hand, not even daring to look up at your face, afraid of the state of his own face.

He was sure the heat he felt rushing up to his cheeks and ears, must have evidently turned his pale skin into a blushing mess. If only he was not so preoccupied with his own emotions, he would have noticed the first speck of tear forming yet again in the corners of your eyes, before it could even fall down. Which he only felt when he saw the droplets of water that landed on the palm of his hand, effectively making him snap his head back up to look at your weeping face.

If he asked you then why were you crying? You would have probably just cried harder. So you were thankful that he did not ask.

He did not bother to ask any questions but simply took you in his arms, burying your face in his chest, actively soaking his shirt in the shivering winds of spring—letting you cry about nothing and everything, in the arms of the guy who has been the source of your annoyance since the day he arrived.

“You make no sense to me” your sobs became muffled through the fabric of his shirt and sweater vest.

“That is a weird way of thanking someone for returning the keychain which you clearly care a lot about.” he let out a soft giggle, trying to put you at ease. You pulled away from him, much to his dismay, looking only at the keychain he returned in the palm of your hands.

“Well you did take over my rank, and eavesdropped on me getting humiliated.” if it was in his power, he would kiss away that frown and pout.

With that one passing thought, Gojo Satoru had the first epiphany of his life that day. The answer to the inclination he felt towards hogging away all your attention.

“Satoru?” He finally heard from the haze of realization and panic that suddenly hit him. What was he supposed to do now? How was he going to ever face you with these confusing feelings?

“Are you alright?” you seemed genuinely concerned for him. Which melted him. Again, if only he was not so preoccupied with the mess in his head and chest, he would have realized much earlier you just called him by his first name. For the first time ever.

“Did you just call me by my first name?” he asked in genuine awe. While you shied away from him a little, which he found more endearing—this is an entirely biased perspective.

“Also! I really did not mean to outdo you! I swear! I didn't even try that hard, and I was sure you were going to do way better than me. Believe me it was just a fluke.” he blabbered on in a frenzy. “Wow, way to show off Gojo.” you said playfully with an eye roll and half smile, just impressed by the lack of imperious tone in his voice.

“No, I swear! Also i mean you have been looking really exhausted these days, maybe that is why, or else how can i ever beat you? I don't know, maybe because I am new. So they were like—’let’s give him this so he does not go around picking fights again’. Also come on you just called me Satoru what happened! No take backs.” you let out a big laugh at his silly rambling. “Goodness. Alright Satoru.”

And he's all smiles with the sound of his own heart beating in his ears.

“I will be taking back my spot from you. Keep it warm until then.” With those final words you stood up and walked away, the hand you used to give him a final pat on his shoulder—dragged off his shoulder with each step enlarging the distance between you two. The agonizingly lingering heat that it left behind, surely left a mark on his skin. It burnt, or perhaps shocked him—he was unclear which was worse.

One thing was clear as he watched you walk back into the building—he is in deep waters. And unfortunately he doesn't know how to swim.

It is truly beyond current Satoru, how teen Satoru's thought processes worked. Because how do you come to the conclusion that ‘i need to do everything in my power other than confront these feelings eating away at me.’

So after the confrontational and very heartfelt conversation with you, Satoru felt more powerless than ever at the mercy of the feelings you provoked within him. His head would feel light, chest would feel heavy, feet would go numb, and every moment he would get a whiff of your scent he could feel a threatening nosebleed.

Actually once during PE you sat beside him after running, sweaty and out of breath. You had simply leaned over him to grab the water bottle by his side—and his nose started bleeding. Until then he never believed in the whole thing about getting a nosebleed because of being overwhelmed, he genuinely believed one needs to be punched real hard in the face or hit something face first with good impact to get a nosebleed.

And now he stands corrected.

He wasn't sure whether it was the citrus, peonies, or the new found smell of your musk and natural odor which triggered the whole thing. Or maybe it was the worry you showed, scrambling to stop the blood dripping down his nose with your sweat soaked towel, tilting his head back with your hands and shouting for your PE teacher to come and help him—if only you knew all of it helped less and less.

The whole thing made him realize that he needs to get a grip!

And how did he execute that— by confiding in his friends? Making an effort to confess to you? No. He decided that it would be a brilliant idea to accept every confession he got and date as many girls as he could—to forget you, of course.

In his defense, he liked what you two got going right now. He gradually grew really close to you; started with simple conversations and jokes to then a fully established friendship. At least he liked the thought of being your friend.

He liked when you’d lean back in your chair to whisper little jokes to him, how the teacher completely fumbled that sentence. Or when you would give him candies, because you always carried some with you, or when you would come to him first before going to anyone else if you did not understand a lesson.

He particularly liked when you would share a rambling synopsis of the books you were currently reading or recently finished, it did not matter how little he cared about the books itself. Mr. ‘could not stop yapping for the love of god’, went completely silent when he stood before you. He loved when you would bring him your latest creation in the kitchen, because you were trying to learn how to cook and it did not matter to him how salty or half cooked and fully burnt the food would be. It was the effort you put into asking him about his favorites and tried making it. Like the effort he put into not letting you get a clue about how much of a digimon guy he was, because he would rather hear you talk about pokemons to him for hours. Did not matter that he thought digimon was superior.

Satoru might have been a popular guy since he joined; being extremely good looking, witty, academically gifted, part of the basketball team and having friends who were equally well known worked in his favor of being probably the most sought after guy in school. But that never made him a ‘player’, as one would assume. Often he would return the gifts he would get or politely decline confessions. So to everyone's surprise when he accepted the first confession, rumors went around—’maybe he was waiting for her to confess this entire time?’ Well, the rumors steered a different direction when she broke up with him within a week, and the next girl also broke up with him within a similar span of time. And when this pattern repeated for the rest of the year, people started labeling him as a cliche popular guy.

Around his sixteenth relationship, you happened to see him getting slapped real hard by the girl he was going out with at the time. They were talking behind the gardening shed, close to the Momiji tree you loved oh so dearly. All that shouting and cursing she did before slapping him, reached your ears, and as a diligent member of the student’s council you could not ignore it. The slap was echoing. She really left a mark on his cheeks, others have slapped him before for being so apathetic about everything, to get a one last satisfactory reaction out of him. But they have all failed at that. But this girl slapped him harder than anyone else had before her— while calling him a piece of shit for leading her on and wasting her time. So he got broken up with again. And he did not seem even a little bothered by this, his face only started contorting in a panic when his eyes landed on you standing the opposite way from the route his ex took to storm off.

Which ended up making him run away from you, a new occurrence for both of you. And this time you had to be the one to chase after him. You found him in the stairwells, where you silently just sat beside him. This must be what they call deja vu.

“So. long day huh?” you dragged each word awkwardly.

“You don’t have to do this Y/n.” he said without even looking at you, just looking down at his hands intertwined with each other, on his lap.

“Unfortunately for you, I want to. We are friends aren’t we?” you asked him expectantly.

And Satoru only ever wished to be your friend. He liked being friends with you. If you called him your friend the day he went to your class to return that keychain he would have been ecstatic, but right now? Being called your friend felt like yet another hit to his heart. He wants to leap out of the bounds of friendship and hold you, tell you how much he loves you. “Yes we are.” Those three words felt like gravel ripping his own skin.

“Then just hear me out won’t you?” and how can he say no to you looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes, and smiling lips. You can ask him for anything and he would not dare to deny. So naturally he nodded a yes wordlessly.

“You don’t seem like yourself these past few months. I am worried about you— we are all worried.” he stared at you as you took a pause to continue, assessing whether or not he was getting pissed off. “I know how much it sucks to hear that you have changed or something like that. But I do not mean it like that—you have been more distant, and just- well, you seem off.”

“You do know that you can tell me anything right? Is there anything bothering you? Are some kids bullying you? Tell me their names, I will take care of them.” you said with squinted eyes and a raised fist like you were ready to beat up some kids for him. And the sheer idea of that image tickled a laugh out of him.

“Sure you will shortcake.” he said in a fit of laughter. And you have never been more glad to hear him call you by that nickname. It has grown on you, similarly as he has grown on you.

“I am fine, at least now that I am sure about something, I am fine.” he said with a sigh, like something heavy lifted off his shoulders. “You sure right?” you enquired again just for confirmation.

“Yesssss, now stop furrowing your eyebrows, you are bound to get wrinkles before you are even thirty.” he was helpless to the smile that grew on his face, “wow way to thank the person who just cheered you up.”

“Stop trying to copy me shortcake.” he bumped his head slightly on yours, causing you to gasp and bump your forehead to his—some sort of retaliation if you will. Cannot let him get away with the last word, can you? “Don’t bump your big head with mine! What if I catch your dummy disease!?” you said with your forehead still on his forehead. Faces mere inches away from one another.

“Uh huh? And what are you gonna do about it?” Satoru has no idea where this was coming from or where this was going. But having you in such close proximity was definitely messing with his head.

“I will-” you cut yourself off, staring back into his eyes, unable to continue whatever you were trying to say—something about his eyes, the shades of blue, lapis and cerulean, making you incapable of continuing. It is as if there dwelled an ocean in his eyes, and unfortunately you never took your swimming lessons seriously. “What are you going to do, shortcake?”

Well, no one found the answer to that question, as the bell rang and made the both of you flinch away from one another. In a moment of awkwardness about whatever that inexplicable tension was, you both did the most expected thing— laughed it off and headed towards the classroom.

Rest of the year passed with Satoru coming to terms with his feelings for you, hyping himself up to confess to you, and spending time with you. And somehow the both of you ended up getting the exact grades at the end of the year, ending up on the first rank together—something that was bound to happen when you are studying together, giggling in class together, eating together, feeding the cats who took a nap behind the school, together. Even when he was more of a dog guy.

And, Satoru really liked the idea of being together with you.

When senior year rolled around and he was determined to make you his by the time you guys graduated high school. Which is easier said than done.

Especially when he is not making any efforts other than just moving his pupils frantically between your lips and eyes, as you go on and on about the student body president’s new dumb mandate. His mind is probably looking at you with heart eyes, lying on its stomach, kicking its feet. Because it keeps repeating,

‘everyday baby, please say you're mine.’

It is a little embarrassing when he has to hide behind the bookshelves when you turn to look his way, because he would be piercing his longing gaze in the back of your head. Why did he not go up to the seat you were occupying at the library? Strike up an easy conversation; and have you offer him a seat with a smile, or get annoyed at him for talking too much and too loud in the library—he does not have the answer himself. All he knew while peeking at you from between the books in a nearby shelf, that his heart was palpitating like it may burst out of his chest any moment, and have the librarian come scold and shush it.

Walking by the hallways near your favorite Momiji tree, to catch a glimpse of you under it, by skipping on practice was the usual at this point. His teammates and coach have given up. Does not mean he doesn’t have to face consequences for these acts of stupidity. Especially on the off chance you visit one of his matches and he goes full statue in the middle of running up to the basket, then as he gains his composure back, he goes full throttle on his opponents. To show off his shots and dribbles during the match. The team and the coach let it pass sometimes, only because it guarantees that they will win the match. But they always make sure to lecture him about abandoning them to push past the hoard of people congratulating him, to only get to you. With groans of collective clamour going, “just confess already.”

Satoru, to this day, still wishes it was that easy. It is not that he never tried.

First time he tried to confess, you two were simply sitting in class, at your desks. Your chair was turned around, so you could sit facing him. He had stayed behind with you after classes ended, to help you with council work. But the yellow, orange and pink hues of the setting sun on your face, was leaving his usual talkative demeanor to be tongue tied. And when you leaned forward on the desk to snap your fingers in face to hopefully get him out of the trance where he was drowning—in those milliseconds between you moving off your seat, looming over him, and looking straight into his eyes; he almost blurted it all out. If only it was not for Kento to walk into the class and enquire about the progress you made on the work, he would have laid it all out for you.

That was not the only time he was teetering over the edge. One time you dragged him to the garden behind school during PE to feed the cats who take naps around there. He actually blurted out “I am in love.”

Which naturally had you snap your head in his direction, your surprise also had the cat lying in your lap surprised, that it also looked in his direction. So he backpedaled, defending his words by rephrasing them, “No! I mean, I am loving this. As in, like, not having to do PE class!” you laughed it off, joking that his poor choices of words and phrasing will definitely get him in deep trouble one day.

There had been so many instances he just almost verbalized his feelings, almost found that serenity in having you know the reason behind the ache in his chest, and the foggy fuzz clouding his judgment around you. But he only wishes he actually followed through with his emotions. Often he found his emotions to be stuck in a battle between his tongue and brain.

After many such (failed) attempts, he finally decided to just lay it all out after the graduation ceremony. As he could not burden you with his feelings when he spent the entirety of the year dilly dallying so much that the finals and entrance exams were near enough to have students lose sleep.

Sometimes in his dreams, Satoru still dreams about the day of his high school graduation ceremony. He dreams of the very events that took place that day, and different possibilities.

He woke up much earlier than usual that morning. He did not want to be late at any cost. Not because he wanted to be there to hear the principal give the same old speech she gives every year or hear the student body president, Kamo Noritoshi, give out yet another speech, he has had enough of his boring speeches as well. He really just wanted to hear your valedictorian speech.

He was glad he did not earn the highest GPA in his year— no, it was not because he did not want to give some stupid speech, though it was part of the reason. He was beyond happy for you, instead of gloating over his own GPA which made him come in second to you, he was more thrilled over you beating him to the first spot. He was so happy that day he literally hugged you so tight, your inner organs almost spilled out from the looks of it, going as far as to lift you up in the air and making a whole show out of it. Honestly from afar it would be confusing to conclude who exactly did better, though anyone who has lingered their eyes a bit too long on Gojo Satoru knew better, which was practically the entire school, it was not surprising to see him act as such. It was rather surprising he did not tie ranks with you, considering his capacity to ace anything and everything, especially academics. But it was ordinary to see him celebrate your wins much more loudly than everyone combined.

When you asked him the question how he did not get a higher GPA than you, later over celebratory ice cream with your friend groups. He just shrugged it off and simply told you that, “Eh. I just goofed around and had a fun senior year, considering these are the most memorable years of one’s life.” with a smug smile stretched across his face, accompanied by his raised shoulders.

“Sure, it was totally not because you were feeling too lazy.” at this point you were all too familiar with Gojo’s pattern. And unlike in the past, you found it more fun to banter with his silliness than getting angry at his conceit. It was still annoying, but not as annoying as it used to be.

“Tch. Tch. Shortcake, you just do not get the concept of fun as well as you get the concept of natural selection. ”

Despite his claims he knew why he did not surpass you, well not because he granted you that position out of pity or his obvious feelings towards you. He respected you too much to one day have you find out your achievements were not well earned, it would eat him up otherwise. Though the reason still was you, or perhaps it was his pathetic attempts at winning you over and expanding the definition of your relationship with him.

Anyway, currently he was sitting unsteady in the back of his father’s car, stuck in a jam, not giving ear to either of his parents reassuring him from the front that they will get there in time. But unfortunately for the Gojos, their son was not the patient kind.

Which is exactly why they didn't object much other than a few shouts when Satoru ran out of the car, with his gown and graduation hat tucked under his armpits. Thankfully they were not stuck too far from the school, but Satoru was unfortunately late for his own graduation ceremony. When he ran inside the auditorium, the hall full of parents, students, teachers, and peers alike, were staring him down— maybe for rudely interrupting the principal's speech, or for looking drop dead gorgeous while sweating buckets; it was unclear.

He silently walked up to where his class was standing and took his place in the empty space left behind for him. The principal resumed with a cough, continuing whatever faux inspirational speech she may have been talking about. His eyes roamed around frantically to land on yours, staring back at him, scrunching and raising your eyebrows in a comical way. While pointing at your watch, silently reprimanding him for his tardiness, all Satoru could do was smile and shrug like a helpless kicked puppy. But as if that has ever worked on you, so you rolled your eyes at him with the shake of your head and mouthed at him to focus on the speech.

After that very boring speech, and handing out the certificates, followed by another boring speech by Kamo Noritoshi, it was finally time for your speech.

When you stood waiting in the left wing of the stage for your cue, he could clearly see you nervously playing with your hands. Fortunately his intense stares had you looking in his direction, so he waved his hand a little to get your focus, and just wished you a silent ‘goodluck, you got this!’ through exaggerated mouth movements.

Was it cute? Or weird? Either way, it made you smile and ease up, and that's all that matters to him. He was probably the one cheering the loudest for you among everyone in there, your parents or friends or anyone, couldn't have dared to match his voice echoing through walls, to the point the teachers had to shut him up by the very end of your speech. Because he kept clapping or whistling really loud in between every pause.

“At the end of the day, these years we've spent here will always stick with us. For better or for worse, and all I want, is to thank those people who made it bearable through all of it. And I hope you all have a future filled with achievements, celebrated alongside those people around you, who make it bearable. Thank you very much.”

Satoru did not cheer the loudest this time around, his silence was drowned out by the loud cheers or the flying caps around him. He was too busy standing there, a hostage to your teary eyes, and a smiling face coming down the stage.

After a few very busy hours of hugs and pictures with family and friends, and some supportive words as well as teasing lectures from the teachers; Satoru went off to find you surrounded by few people.

“Hey!” he came behind you and spoke in a breathy whisper in your right ear.

“Ah! Satoru! Oh my goodness I've been looking for you!” You slapped his arm lightly as he tried to say,

“Listen, I-” “I need to speak to you. Come with me. Sorry, will you excuse us?” You dragged him by his left hand, tangled with your own right hand. It is not that he has never held hands, he's done plenty more than that, but your hands meant more. And he hopes you heard his heart beating through his hands, as you held onto it and dragged him to a random empty hallway.

“I suppose this works, I was gonna drag you away myself.” He lets out a little chuckle as he settles opposite you, facing you, “I wanted to-”

“I am moving away.”

“What?”

“I am moving out of the country. I, um, applied to this university abroad and they accepted me. It was not confirmed until last week, I've told almost everyone but.” You take a pause and stare down at his blank face, rid off the little shy smile and blush adorning him just a second ago, before continuing, “But, I just did not- I mean, I could not just figure out how I was going to tell you.”

Satoru lets out a dry chuckle. “What's so hard about that? Come on shortcake. It's just me.”

“I, I know. I mean-” this time he interjects.

“Are you happy?”

You blink twice and answer, “More than I thought I would be.”

‘Then that's enough for me.’ Is what Satoru meant to say then, instead he said something different.

“I am really happy for you Y/n. Will miss you shortcake.” He cracks a genuine smile, despite the storm waiting to unleash in his chest through the waterworks of his eyes, regardless he was still happy in your happiness.

When you leaped into his arms with a tight grip on his back, mumbling a choked up “I'll actually miss you more dummy.”

“Nope can’t let you have this one too.” with a chuckle he patted your head as you cried in his arms for the second time since you have known him, once was one too many times for you but here you are. Perhaps this was the last time, he thought.

“Also, I want you to have this.” you handed him a keychain, similar to yours, but instead of an orange little cat, there was a white cat attached to it. “When I saw it, it reminded me of you.” You placed the little guy on his palm, and he closed his fist around it with every intention of cherishing it for eternity.

“I’ll see you soon right?” You asked him, as you looked up at him with tear stains on your cheek, matching the stain on his shirt, and he just nodded with a tight grip around the keychain. Maybe he was too scared to verbally give you any promises, otherwise he would start breaking down much harder than you. But one thing he was sure about,

“You'll do great shortcake, you always have.”

‘As I will always love you.’

On days as such, filled with nostalgia. Or on nights spent staring at his ceiling, wide awake, clock ticking closer and closer to the next day— he thinks of you. He thinks about the different possibilities and the most regrettable moments of his life, and thinks, what if?

What if he had chosen a different line of work instead of taking over for his father? What if he went to that pop up shop before they sold out of their limited edition creps? Or what if he chose to go to that school reunion five years ago with Suguru and everyone else. Would he have met you?

What if he had told you he loved you that day? What if he did not wallow in his own self pity and made a better effort at reaching out to you when you suddenly stopped contacting him during second year of University? What if he swallowed down the resentment over your silence and flew across the globe to you? Would not have been the first time he did that. It was the automated voice telling him that the number he dialed does not exist anymore, and the complete refusal from mutual friends to let him know about your whereabouts—that irked him. What did he do so wrong for you to even remove the little pleasure he enjoyed from having you at the very least as a friend.

Maybe if he asked you selfishly to not move away altogether, things would have been different. But how could he, when he never had any concrete dreams of his own other than pursuing in his father's footsteps, to now take over for him. The way your eyes always shined bright with aspirations, and the amount of hard work you put into achieving them, made him try for himself.

Then how could he have been selfish with the one person whom he selflessly gave away his heart to?

“Sato! Come eat! Finish that later!” his mother shouted from inside, breaking the trance of reminiscence. “Yesss mom!” he shouted back to let her know.

And when he set to go inside, he felt something heavy on his legs. While cleaning the boxes, Satoru had gone to sit on the edge of the patio, with his legs hanging from his edge. The height was long enough to have him lose his sight about where his legs were below the knees to his feet comfortably touching the ground.

When he crouched down to look at what was weighing him down, he found a white fluffy cat; clearly well taken care of, lying comfortably, belly up, on top of both of his feet. Set of blue hued pupils peeking out of his blinking eyes. And a smug smile of contentment on his face, either satisfied with his nap or from annoying Satoru. As cute of a look alike this cat may have been to the one on the keychain you gave him—which he still uses everyday to hold all his important keyes—Satoru could tell that this cat was one big menace.

“Meowwww” the feline wailed, when Satoru moved his feet off the ground to take a proper look at the creature. The cat in search of his confiscated comfort, crawled up his legs, up to his lap and made himself comfortable.

Satoru leans back to rest his weight on both of his palms, placed on either side of his torso. He lets out a dry huff “Huh. aren’t you one spoiled little guy?”

“Meow.” the cat quips as if agreeing with Satoru, his eyes were closed, trying to get back his lost sleep.

“And what is your name?” Satoru asked the cat and felt foolish that very next instance. Instead of waiting for the cat’s response—because that will obviously not answer his question—he goes to check the yellow collar adorned on the cat’s neck to check for a nametag.

“ICHIGO!” a loud familiar voice cried behind the hedges that protected the view into his parent’s front yard.

Upon hearing the call, the cat’s ears sprung up and went back, going alert. In a blink of an eye the cat ran off of his lap, out of their main gate— in what seemed like mere seconds. And his parent’s house is pretty huge, the patio to the front gate takes well over thirty seconds to get to when you are in a hurry.

So Satoru ran behind the cat, well after it was gone from his sight, worrying it might run into something or hurt himself. But just as he stepped out of the gate, he saw the cat cuddled up in a person’s arms, who was crouched down in relief, obstructing the view to their face. Though the shade of the hair is much familiar to him just as the voice, but the length now shorter than how he remembers it to be. But that same citrus and peony scent remained, infiltrating his olfactory sense before his eyes could fathom the figure in front of him. Or maybe he did not want to believe the reality of the situation to begin with.

“Never do that again! Do you know how scared I was? Why would you run after a butterfly like that!? I am never letting you off your leash again!” You held the cat out, away from your embrace, finally standing straight. Dangling him in the air by his arms, like some sort of punishment.

“Meowww” the cat whined in a pitiful tone, moving his claws in a way as if asking to be held closer again.

“No Ichi. No amount of whining is getting you out of this mister!” while reprimanding the cat, you forgot to acknowledge the person standing upfront.

“Y/n?”

You look up to see who called you out in the middle of scolding your cat. To only see another ball of familiar white fluffy hair, and cerulean eyes, the ones you’ve once loathed with your entire being, and dreamed of countless nights. Standing a few inches taller than what his previously already behemoth height during teen years used to be.

“Satoru?”

Both of you stood there confused and mesmerized by one another’s presence, to have run into each other under such coincidental circumstances, how fateful. With a more confused Ichigo looking back and forth between you two, now standing on his own four legs on the ground. Probably trying to solve the mystery of the heavy silence and air hanging between you two. From the looks of the mirrored shock, and open mouthed gasps that left your respective mouths—seems like this unanticipated meeting was long overdue.

The beauty of fate truly lies in such oblivious encounters. And those who sneak into your life just as unexpectedly, as they fade out wordlessly.

FIND OUT MORE ABOUT HS!SATORU

TO FIND MORE OF MY WORKS CLICK HERE.

tag list: @madamechrissy @cuntphoric @moonlitwitchdaisy @rriwyu @naomigojo @aishi-toru @cuntyji @arcanarix @fuwagojo @lover-lyn @buckysm @wwwritererm @indiewritesxoxo @fushitoru @gojosoups @arcanarix @moonchhu @shouiow @user25384959574 @dxmnsaera @emyyy007 @ineedbetterhobbies0809 @littlemisswitch67

a/n: the above used images are from Pinterest, the Gojo one is from the s2 ending and the other two images, i could not find any exact sources so if you know where they are from please kindly let me know. the dividers are by— @/aquazero, @/kodaswrld @/cafekitsune & @/oldgifs4coding, respectively.

thank you to the pookies for beta reading this <3 really my longest work yet. yes it is a bit cliche but oh well. took a lottt of time to finish, first it was finals, then mental and physical health was at all time low, then literally burnt my hand. the part of the valedictorian speech the reader gave, was part of my own speech i gave at my graduation as the head girl, so if you found it shit i better not hear about it.

named her cat Ichigo, because well he calls her shortcake, and ichigo means strawberry. so strawberry and shortcake :3c

happy to have him out ^^ i hope you had fun reading this!! i have a few drabbles and such related to this i plan on releasing. still not sure if i plan to expand their ending :3c ahhh this was not going to be an open ending, but here we areeee

anywayyyy hope your enjoyed your stay ^^ make sure to share your thoughts in the ask box and comments.

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ratsoh-writes · 12 hours ago

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Next up on the lineup is……

11: Gears (nomadtale sans)

He may be tiny, but he certainly has a big personality! Gears is a confident and rather vain monster. He's like a chihuahua who sure can bark, but at the first sign of real trouble, he feels no shame in running lol. In his defense though, he is quite brittle. The monsters from his au aren't known for being strong. Gears is incredibly creative. Expressing his imagination in the tools he creates is his greatest passion! And he demands praise each time he does! If you're into being a hype man, he's the perfect friend for you.

Age: 49

Birthday: May 3

Height: 4'6

(living)Family: compass, copper

Best Friend(s): quill peaches rancher

Dislikes: pitch

Hobbies: urban exploring, art hopping, videogames, playing dating sims, hiking, gardening, whittling and leather crafts

Favorite Food: stuffed mushrooms!

Favorite Flower: buttercups

Favorite Color: emerald green

Preferred Music: folk and indie

Special ability: His soul recovers from damage at a much faster rate than normal monsters as long as he's eating properly. As a nomad au monster, this means he has a shorter recovery time in between creating each enchanted tool.

Job: Gears is a worker at his father's garden shop. However, the majority of his income comes from selling the enchanted tools he creates. Gears rarely takes commissions preferring to let his own imagination be his muse when he's making his art.

12: Compass (nomadtale papyrus)

Compass is an adventurer at heart, but his crippling sense of politeness holds him back from what he truly wants to do in life. If trespassing wasn't a crime, it would be over for all of you! Compass is an incredibly kind and compassionate monster, but he has no issue standing up for himself. Do not mistake his manners for weakness. Despite coming across as a rather chill guy, there's secretly a raging ball of chaotic energy just underneath the surface begging to be let free. Please please please give him a reason~

Age: 42

Birthday: February 26

Height: 5'11

(living)Family: gears copper

Best Friend(s): rancher, peaches, tinker

Dislikes: none! Compass doesn't really do enemies

Hobbies: hiking, pottery, ceramics, horseback riding, wrestling, watching video game lets plays (he fkn sucks at video games himself)

Favorite Food: fish and chips, but actual potato chips, not fries like many are thinking.

Favorite Flower: hyacinths

Favorite Color: cinnamon red/brown

Preferred Music: folk and country

Special ability: his nickname comes from his special ability. No matter where compass is, he knows which direction home is. He's never lost, only very far away lol.

Job: Compass is a manager at his father's garden shop, and the one in line to inherit it. He enjoys his job and is looking forward to adding his own twist on the shop someday. He does create enchanted items on the side, but only by request/commission. He has no passion for it.

13: Lilac Wingdings (horrorswap sans)

Without the manic energy of his younger counterpart star, lilac is forced to live life at the same pace as everyone else, a change he deeply resents. Lilac misses his old self, the healthy and confident monster. He wishes deeply he could go back to who he was before the famine and is bitter knowing that it just isn't possible. Lilac had a long recovery after the famine and is just now starting to get his life in order. He has become more at peace with his lot compared to a few years ago and is slowly on the way to getting his cheer back.

Age: 70

Birthday: March 25

Height: 6'5

(living)Family: basil star honey

Best Friend(s): Jupiter papyrus willow

Dislikes: Bruiser cash cricket

Hobbies: yoga, playing sports, jogging, drink mixing, gardening

Favorite Food: cinnamon rolls, tacos and mayonnaise

Favorite Flower: bluebells

Favorite Color: electric blue

Preferred Music: dance pop

Special ability: He doesn't get dizzy, no matter how fast he's moving or what position he's in.

Job: Lilac is currently an apprenticeship at a therapy clinic. He's looking forward to finishing his training to become a full fledged physical therapist.

14: Basil Snowtuft (horrorswap papyrus)

Basil did not survive the famine easily. After his brother's injury and the loss of his extended family, He had to step up and take care of himself and star. The result of this experience left basil silent and extremely self-sufficient. Trauma around making noise during the famine has left basil mostly mute. Only the closest of friends get to hear his voice, and he never speaks louder than a whisper. And basil really struggles with letting others care for him. He's gotten so used to handling it all, that letting some responsibilities go feels almost painful. However, despite it all, basil is still the same kind and gentle soul he was when he used to be honey. There just isn't a mean bone in his body.

Age: 54

Birthday: March 2

Height: 7'7

(living)Family: lilac star honey

Best Friend(s): willow rust noir oak

Dislikes: none! (he isn't scared of edge like honey is lol)

Hobbies: manga, romance novels, baking, GARDENING, trying new vegetarian recipes, the constant battle with that fkn deer that keeps eating his baby tomatoes

Favorite Food: cinnamon rolls and baby tomatoes *note: basil is strictly vegetarian as the scent of cooked meat is nauseating to him*

Favorite Flower: lilac

Favorite Color: mint green

Preferred Music: kpop

Special ability: He can innately understand the basic meaning behind any written language. Not the specific details, but the base context of a text comes naturally to him. Basil actually has recognized this is a magic ability, but lets honey think he's just naturally talented since it gives his little "brother" so much confidence.

Job: Basil works for a Chinese company translating comics and novels from Chinese to English, Spanish and Portuguese. He works from home and communicates through emails only. His employers have no idea he's a monster.

15: Rust wingdings (horrorfell sans)

While the famine was terrible, in a way it softened rust. In order to survive, he had to learn how to truly trust and rely on others, and the little gang of monsters he hunkered down with did not disappoint. While rust is certainly still a prickly guy, his temper will always be a part of himself, he's absolutely softer around the edges than red is. Rust is slower to snap, and quicker to show his goofy side to new friends. He still flusters easily though lol.

Age: 76

Birthday: January 10

Height: 6'4

(living)Family: noir edge red

Best Friend(s): oak basil

Dislikes: butch and all the other mafias by association

Hobbies: star trek, woodworking, fishing, arts and crafts with his kids, secretly feeding that deer that torments basil

Favorite Food: bbq ribs

Favorite Flower: iris

Favorite Color: pastel yellow

Preferred Music: country and alternative

Special ability: He has an aura that is soothing to babies and toddlers. They naturally are happier and friendlier around him. Rust doesn't try to hide this unlike red.

Job: He really embraced his nurturing side after the famine. Rust loves the company of little kids, liking their sweet and creative natures. So, he works now at a daycare. he usually takes the morning shifts.

16: Noir Wingdings (horrorfell papyrus)

Noir experienced a lot of tragedy and heartbreak in the famine, loosing many close to him. The experience humbled him in a way. While noir is still a stickler for the rules, he's much more relaxed when others mess up. Noir is a firm believer in "life's too short to not do the things he loves." he takes this motto very seriously and spends most of his days exploring new hobbies and passions. He has a sort of old soul now, and his friends and family love to tease him for acting like an old man despite still being pretty young for a monster.

Age: 53

Birthday: August 30

Height: 8'3

(living)Family: rust red edge

Best Friend(s): willow, basil

Dislikes: butch, and all the other mafias by association

Hobbies: yoga, reading (everything), oil painting, whittling, cooking, giving the neighborhood kids loose change for the vending machines at mellowmart.

Favorite Food: lasagna and red wine

Favorite Flower: red roses

Favorite Color: dark leather brown

Preferred Music: country and alternative

Special ability: He has an incredibly accurate sense of smell. He can list every ingredient in a food just by sniffing it.

Job: Noir works weekends as a yoga instructor. He also sells the paintings he makes.

17: Lord Wingdings (fellswap red sans)

Lord is snappy, gruff, strict and the absolute worst at being a "fell" monster. While he certainly is capable of violence, hes a pacifist at heart and will stall as much as he can before finally fighting. Lord is incredibly jumpy and anxious. He does his best to hide this by putting up a snippy grumpy face. With a patient enough friend, lord slowly becomes kinder. He's still a grump, but it's clear he cares deeply. He's incredibly loyal to those persistent enough to stick around.

Age: 60

Birthday: September 14

Height: 5'0

(living)Family: Mutt

Best Friend(s): wine mal

Dislikes: G

Hobbies: history in general but especially ww1 and ww2, historical fiction, gardening, weightlifting, gossiping, cleaning (no really, he enjoys this)

Favorite Food: veggie platters and carrot soup

Favorite Flower: jasmine

Favorite Color: royal blue

Preferred Music: blues

Special ability: When he touches people, he briefly feels their emotions. This is yet another reason why he dislikes touch so much. He cant turn this ability off.

Job: Lord owns and maintains a large apartment building in inner ebott city. He prides himself on keeping the units up to date and working. He's a good landlord as long as you pay on time.

18: Mutt Wingdings (fellswap red)

Mutt is aloof and disinterested in people. To him, most others are simply annoying flies he needs to bat away. However, there is a small handful of individuals he makes room for in his soul. And mutt is INCREDIBLY protective over the few he does love. Around those he doesn't care for, mutt is cold and even cruel. He seems to enjoy seeing others squirm. But for someone he actually likes, his personality does a complete 180. He is attentive, sweet, a tad mischievous and very very cuddly.

Age: 53

Birthday: November 12

Height: 6'7

(living)Family: lord

Best Friend(s): coffee

Dislikes: anyone who isn't lord and coffee. wine and mal are tolerated since lord likes them

Hobbies: rehabilitating animals, writing novels, late night walks, boxing, parkour, stargazing, starting bar fights lol

Favorite Food: veggie wraps and coffee

Favorite Flower: dahlias

Favorite Color: olive green

Preferred Music: jazz and rap

Special ability: mutt can always see the first attack in a fight before it happens. This makes him almost impossible to sneak up on.

Job: Mutt is lord's main handyman for the apartment complex if anything gets broken like plumbing and air conditioning. When he isn't doing that, he's working on his novel: a historical romance set in ww2

19: Wine Wingdings (fellswap gold sans)

Wine is classy, polite and the perfect gentleman. He's quite charismatic and many find it easy to fall for his charms. He seems so nice! Don't trust him right away though, the guy is a total snake! Wine is incredibly curious. His favorite thing in the world is unearthing his latest targets deepest darkest secrets. He is also very vindictive. If one slights him, he happily pulls the strings of others in order to ruin their life. Wine takes the protection of his loved ones with the upmost urgency, often going farther than necessary in his revenge to ensure his enemies can never even dream of touching him. When one is a true friend to wine though, he's much more forgiving, and is quite sassy, dropping a lot of his formal polite mask around them.

Age: 64

Birthday: July 11

Height: 5'6

(living)Family: Coffee

Best Friend(s): lord mal

Dislikes: ace, sans (dislikes how sans has secrets that wine desperately wants to know), mutt

Hobbies: conspiracy theories, history channel, mythology, clothes shopping and thrifting, gossip, collecting candles, blackmail and bribery, snooping

Favorite Food: KFC and champagne

Favorite Flower: white peonies

Favorite Color: gold

Preferred Music: classical

Special ability: he can sense the way a soul "stutters" when someone lies or is trying to lead him away from a topic.

Job: His on paper job is a pretty little antique shop he owns in inner ebott city. unofficially he does detective work for other gold au monsters, finding and trading secrets for money.

Coffee Wingdings (fellswap gold papyrus)

At face value, coffee seems like a sweet and shy guy. He always seems to be shrinking in on himself and speaks with a soft stutter. He plays up his bashfulness around strangers in order to be ignored or at least seen as non-threatening. But one must not forget coffee is wines brother. He is just as much of a snake as his older brother; he learned from the best after all ;). Underneath the soft looking exterior is cold and calculating soldier. Coffee is capable of much more than others realize. When someone manages to break down his walls, they see a new mischievous trickster side to coffee. He's playful at heart and just wants someone to mess with (and snuggle).

Age: 50

Birthday: March 5

Height: 6'2

(living)Family: wine

Best Friend(s): slim mutt

Dislikes: ace mutt (mutt is very much an on and off friend to coffee)

Hobbies: art art art, art in every form, painting charcoals pottery wood burning sculpting beadwork embroidery- ahem art. also open world videogames

Favorite Food: cookie dough ice-cream and pumpkin spice lattes

Favorite Flower: pink peonies

Favorite Color: peach

Preferred Music: video game and movie soundtracks

Special ability: he can use his magic to conceal his presence. He can't be smelled, heard or sensed. However, he isn't completely invisible and can be spotted if he isn't watching his surroundings.

Job: Coffee does restoration work for wines antique shop, cleaning up and fixing many of the antiques. He also does commissions in flipping furniture and the rare art commission. And occasionally he still does some assassin work for his old gold contacts if wine asks.

Hello! Remember how I said I was going to redo the lineup? Well I’ve finished page one already!

The plan is for every 1.5 weeks, I’ll post a new page of the skeletons adding their picture and info in a reblog on this same post. When it’s all done, it’ll be added on the pinned post.

Now, of course coming in first are the main 10!

1: Sans Wingdings (undertale)

Our classic lazy punny skeleton, sans is that silly nerd we all adore. He's a personable character, his easy going nature and laid back mannerisms making it easy for him to win over new friends. However getting to know this skeleton beyond surface level is much harder. Behind his playful front is a nervous and cautious monster. Sans doesn't trust easily. Sans is a scholar at heart, and if he finds something interesting enough, you'll see this skeleton shed his lazy bones and really put in some work!

Age: 65

Birthday: January 28

Height: 5'2

(living)Family: papyrus, oak, willow

Best Friend(s): alphys, pluto, lens, G

Dislikes: red, wine

Hobbies: chemistry, physics, astronomy, robotics, playing the trombone, puns and brain teasers, puzzle video games

Favorite Food: ketchup, hot dogs, monster energy drinks

Favorite Flower: echo flowers

Favorite Color: sky blue

Preferred Music: jazz and instrumentals

Special ability: he can shortcut objects to himself without having to directly go to the object. Kinda like summoning things. He has to remember and be able to visualize exactly where the object is for it to work

Job: sans is the head engineer at the core in ridgeside village. He helps maintain the machinery above ground and the core below making sure the blend of magic and nuclear energy continues to run smoothly.

2: Papyrus Wingdings (undertale)

If you ever look up the word optimist in the dictionary, you'll find papyrus' name! Papyrus is a cheerful and friendly guy, always down to help someone out, even strangers! He's a firm believer of you get what you put in, so why spread hate when you can sow kindness! While he isn't innocent, he does often find himself in trouble from being too nice to the wrong person. Papyrus is notorious for putting his own principles in front of his safety, a fact that makes his family and friends rather protective.

Age: 49

Birthday: May 22

Height: 6'5

(living)Family: sans, oak, willow

Best Friend(s): undyne, star, jupiter, lilac

Dislikes: nobody! :)

Hobbies: puzzles, fencing, morning runs, sparring, collecting hotwheels, superhero comics, making DIY projects

Favorite Food: spaghetti and garlic bread!

Favorite Flower: Sunflowers

Favorite Color: cherry red

Preferred Music: heavy metal and screamo

Special ability: He is extra sensitive to corrupted magic, causing him to easily sense curses and cursed items.

Job: Papyrus designed and owns a thriving escape room building featuring three rooms! he rotates them every other month retiring one and coming out with a new one the same day. His business has been doing very well the last few years and he's been considering opening a second location.

3: Star Wingdings (underswap sans)

Star is a living breathing ball of pure ENERGY. No really, man could bounce off the wall for hours and not even break a sweat! Star is a very cheerful personality, if a tad manipulative. He has a rather cute face resulting in often being treated much younger than the grown ass adult he is lol. After a lifetime of this, he figured he might as well take advantage of it. Star is a very intelligent and capable monster and often forgets that his limits aren't shared by others. While he is a great hype man, he can come off as pushy and bossy if one does not set firm boundaries.

Age: 60

Birthday: March 25

Height: 5'4

(living)Family: honey, basil, lilac Jeanie, cinnamon, many many other aunts/uncles/and cousins

Best Friend(s): papyrus Jupiter

Dislikes: Ace

Hobbies: running, sparring, weightlifting, volleyball, playing with the police dogs, sketching, hiking

Favorite Food: tacos, cinnamon buns and mayonnaise

Favorite Flower: bluebells

Favorite Color: mustard yellow

Preferred Music: rave and dubstep

Special ability: he doesn't get dizzy. doesn't matter how fast he's moving or what position he's in.

Job: Star is part of the royal guard in the peace guard division- aka the police force of ebott. Star is mainly put in search and rescue cases as he is rather talented at finding people. He also does a lot of patrolling though when times are slow.

4: Honey Snowtuft (underswap papyrus)

Honey is a kind and gentle soul. Not a single mean bone in his body. He's a bit of a shy guy and is quite awkward when one first meets him. However, once he relaxes around someone, honey is a chill and goofy guy with a bit of a mother hen side to him. Honey doesn't make friends easily and can be rather clingy when you get that title. He's also a huge nag to his friends, a product of having one of the most stubborn creatures alive as a brother. oh and he's a total nerd. *fun fact: the different last name is from his aunt Jeanie who raised him*

Age: 44

Birthday: March 2

Height: 6'3

(living)Family: star lilac basil Jeanie cinnamon and many many other aunts/uncles/cousins

Best Friend(s): salt

Dislikes: edge

Hobbies: Nintendo video games, Korean dramas, reading manhwas, romance novels, dungeons and dragons, baking, learning new languages

Favorite Food: cinnamon buns and mozzarella sticks

Favorite Flower: lilac

Favorite Color: brick red

Preferred Music: video game soundtracks

Special ability: He can innately understand the basic meaning behind any written language. Not the specific details, but the base context of a text comes naturally to him. He doesn't realize this is a special ability and just thinks languages come naturally to him.

Job: Honey is a freelance translator! he works from home and will translate all kinds of documents, books scripts, anything really. He knows over a dozen different languages!

5: Red Wingdings (underfell sans)

Red is a very prickly guy. He always seems to be on the defensive and will snap quickly at any perceived slight. He's had a rough life and not very many good experiences with strangers to draw from. It takes a very patient person to earn reds trust. Once you do though, you'll find a loyal deeply caring friend. Red with friends is a total goofball. He has a biting sense of humor and loves to tease. He's easily flustered and is fun to get a rise out of too. It's easy to tell when his blustering is just for show.

Age: 66

Birthday: january 10

Height: 5'4

(living)Family: edge rust noir fellby

Best Friend(s): oak

Dislikes: sans, BUTCH, literally all the other mafias by association

Hobbies: cars, taking cars apart and fixing them, watching nascar races, fishing, bar hopping, star trek movies and collectibles, playing with his pet cat

Favorite Food: burgers and barbeque

Favorite Flower: iris

Favorite Color: pastel yellow

Preferred Music: country or alternative rock

Special ability: his aura is very soothing to babies and toddlers making them naturally happy and friendly around him. It really ruins the bad boy look he's trying to go for.

Job: Red works as an electric engineer at the moment, but really he wants to work on cars full time. He's considering going back to school to get a degree.

6: Edge Wingdings (underfell papyrus)

Edge is a natural born leader. He has high expectations for himself and those under him, but he doesn't put others down for their failures. Instead, he brings them up helping them become their best versions- if they're willing to listen of course. Edge is stern and bossy around most but has a huge soft spot for the sweeties in his life. He's defenseless against a good set of puppy eyes. He's extremely protective of the people he considers "his" and is ready to go to war for them. Edge thrives in routine and rules and gets easily annoyed by those who deliberately ignore them.

Age: 43

Birthday: august 30

Height: 6'5

(living)Family: red rust noir fellby

Best Friend(s): rhythm crow storm willow

Dislikes: also willow- his greatest rival

Hobbies: collecting pens, watching nascar races, debate, fencing, sparring, cooking and baking, volunteering at the animal shelter, playing with his pet cat

Favorite Food: lasagna and red wine

Favorite Flower: red roses

Favorite Color: silver

Preferred Music: country and alternative rock

Special ability: He has an incredibly accurate sense of smell. He can list every ingredient in a food just by sniffing it.

Job: Edge works as a lawyer specializing in tenant and custody cases. He takes his job VERY seriously and has an impressive winning streak

7: Mal (swapfell sans)

Think of the attitude of someone who came from the streets, now has money but still lives like they're in the street and you have mal. His personality is a strange blend of diva and punk that seems to confuse many. He loves keeping people on their toes though, so this works out perfectly for him. Mal thrives off of drama and if he can't find any, he'll create his own. One of the most dangerous things in the world is a bored mal. He is clever and playful but biting towards those he deems weak. His friendship is not for the thin skinned.

Age: 60

Birthday: july 4

Height: 5'0

(living)Family: cash

Best Friend(s): wine, lord

Dislikes: green

Hobbies: gossip, shopping, jewelry making, sketching, watercolor, plotting his enemies downfalls, playing piano, knife tricks

Favorite Food: burritos and tres leches cake

Favorite Flower: yellow carnations

Favorite Color: silver and gold

Preferred Music: rap

Special ability: if he flicks something between his pointer finger and thumb, he can flick it so hard it would become lodged in a wall. He can also crack nuts between just those two digits as well as bend metal with ease.

Job: mal owns a little hole in the wall jewelry shop in downtown ebott. He resells used jewelry as well as his own deigns and the creations of other local artists.

8: Cash (swapfell papyrus)

Say hello to chaos incarnate. Sometimes it seems like cash's only purpose in life is to cause trouble lol. He's a very mischievous character as well as creative and deeply curious. A dangerous combination indeed. Cash lives for the laughs in life. He loves bringing smiles to people's faces with his jokes and pranks, but his moral compass is a bit skewed, and he can take things too far if left to his own devices. Cash has a strong desire to be better than what he is now and will cling to people who make him feel like he's doing good. He is a recovering addict and has to take care to say far away from those who would drag him back to that life.

Age: 51

Birthday: april 13

Height: 6'1

(living)Family: mal

Best Friend(s): bruiser cricket

Dislikes: mutt

Hobbies: PRANKS, skateboarding, parkour, urban exploring, collecting concerning amounts of hot sauce, bartering

Favorite Food: pizza and scarily spicy hot sauces

Favorite Flower: thistles

Favorite Color: neon orange

Preferred Music: musicals

Special ability: he can change the shape of his "vocal cords" to mimic sounds. Cash can copy voices, machinery, animals, almost everything. He is limited by volume though.

Job: Cash is a pizza delivery guy officially, but he also has a side hustle as a financial advisor. He has no degree, but his clients usually leave happy regardless.

9: Oak Wingdings (horrortale sans)

Despite technically being the same guy as sans, oak couldn't be more different. After a head injury wiped many of his memories, as well as experiencing his au's famine, oak has come out a very changed monster. Where sans is personable and playful, oak is shy and reserved. His memory issues makes many of his old passions difficult to participate in, causing oak to find new loves in life. Oak is kind and gentle but also aloof and nervous. He cant mask his emotions the same way his younger counterpart can anymore making him an open book. On bad days he's very snappy and irritable, angry at how helpless he feels.

Age: 75

Birthday: january 28

Height: 6'2

(living)Family: willow sans papyrus

Best Friend(s): red rust basil

Dislikes: star

Hobbies: baking, animal handling, fishing, nature walks, taking care of his chickens, playing his trombone, naps

Favorite Food: sandwiches

Favorite Flower: echo flowers

Favorite Color: grass green

Preferred Music: jazz and instrumentals

Special ability: like sans, oak can summon objects to himself but struggles to use his ability as it requires him remembering where he left them. He also has a surprise second ability where he has an aura that naturally attracts animals, making then docile and friendly. Even wild animals.

Job: Oak works in the kitchen of his brother's bakery on his good days. He also supplies a good portion of the eggs that the bakery uses each day.

10: Willow Wingdings (horrortale papyrus)

Experiencing the famine and caring for his deeply injured brother in his old au changed willow from the optimist he used to be. While still a cheerful character, Willow is now cautious where papyrus is bold. And if you cross willow once, you'll never do it again. He doesn't forgive easily. Willow cares deeply and seems to have this need to mother others lol. He's at his happiest when he's helping out someone he loves. He can't stand boredom and has to always be doing something to feel stable. He's rather openly sarcastic and has a surprisingly dry sense of humor.

Age: 59

Birthday: may 22

Height: 8'0

(living)Family: oak sans papyrus

Best Friend(s): basil noir lilac edge

Dislikes: edge- the annoying little twerp thinks he's his rival

Hobbies: BAKING, cooking in general, sewing, felting, crochet, knitting, clay crafts, embroidery, any sort of crafty activity really

Favorite Food: freshly baked bread

Favorite Flower: sunflowers

Favorite Color: tan and cream

Preferred Music: screamo and heavy metal

Special ability: He is very sensitive to corrupted magic. This means he can easily sense curses, cursed objects and possessions- something he's experienced in dealing with.

Job: Willow owns a bakery that specializes in savory breads rolls sandwiches and comes with a soup of the day as well! Its very cozy, and the bakery has even won a few rewards!

#undertale imagines #undertale headcanons #worldbuilding #ratsohart #fellswap gold #fellswap red #horrorswap #horrorfell #nomadtale

42 notes · View notes

tthegoldentouch · 8 months ago

Text

Pairing: Aventurine x reader

Tw: none, he's just skittish but that's understandable. Might have grammatical mistakes but English isn't my first language so whatever. The « » words are supposed to be the avgin dialect okok that's all

"Will you teach me how to speak the Avgin dialect?"

Aventurine nearly splutters out the sip of wine he was about to drink, and you observe as his whole body subtly jerks — trying to figure out if he misheard you or not.

Blink.

And yet, the only expression he sees on your face is a little smile, a hint of curiosity and optimism in those lovely eyes of yours. For some reason, he can't find it in him to appreciate that look this time.

"And why is that?" The tone of his voice is reserved, calculated, and for a millisecond, you are reminded of your job: meetings, negotiations and transaction. The air suddenly feels thicker, and although he maintains his usual smile, there's a subtle shift that suggests it may not be as genuine as it was moments ago.

"Because I….want to understand you?" You naively respond, unaware of the warnings you're triggering in his head, unaware of the amount of bells ringing in his ears. The red alarms flashing in front of his eyes are bright, and they blind him to everything else, drowning out your silhouette until he can't make out your face as a familiar one.

All he's seeing is red, red of a warning bell, red of sunset and endings, red of blood and—

"I'm not sure why you even thought that would be a good idea" a small chuckle leaves his mouth, and he shifts a little on the couch in an attempt to regain his belongings.

"After all, I don't even speak it anymore— a dead language is not something you'd benefit from learning."

"But I am a linguist" You counter, huffing a bit. "I wouldn't think a language is “less beneficial” just because it's dead. Besides, Sigonian isn't a dead language, and neither is the Avgin dialect. You are here, and you speak it."

Blink.

"What?" Aventurine grows defensive, and he shifts in his seat again; only a little. It's not okay to let others know of your discomfort, you cannot show your weaknesses. Luckily, you don't notice, and he continues carefully.

"I don't speak it— what are you saying? How could I possibly use that language?"

He picks his sentences with caution, leaving half of it up in the air for you to interpret. He can't bring himself to finish it— he can't use it when everyone else who spoke of it is presumably dead. That would only result in another restless night of futile attempts at subduing the void in his heart. Just because he knows it, doesn't mean he likes to think of it.

Aventurine does not like to remember the fact that he's the only one left of the Avgins, even though the cosmos is merciless in its reminders.

"You do speak it!!" You insist, and look into his eyes, and his eyes almost make you forget the rest of your sentence. "—You say things under your breath. When things go south, or when your catcakes do something super adorable and you can't hold a grin on your face. I've seen you multiple times, talking to yourself in an unfamiliar language. It is your mother tongue, is it not?"

Ah.

The words that escape your lips are curling into itself, flickering through the corners of his mind. I've seen you multiple times. Multiple times. Multiple times. Talking to yourself. To yourself. To yourself.

His mother tongue.

Oh, how he wishes he could talk to someone else, how he longs to talk to another Avgin in his mother tongue— in their mother tongue.

"Do I do that?" He inquires, and you affirm, still wearing a smile. Both of you have been smiling at each other, but only one of you is clawing through the walls of their mind trying their best not to leave the room right this moment. You're not an adversary, he reminds himself. You're not an enemy.

"I can't teach you that." He stares in an unusually cold tone, sending shivers down your spine. A tone Aventurine reserves for when a business deal has gone wry, for when he needs to put on his best performance and come back at the top. Unfortunately, this means there's no room for you to argue, no negotiations, no nothing.

You realize a bit too late that you've made him uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry" Apologies keep flowing from your mouth, but Aventurine can barely hear them. All he knows is the warning bells in his ears are growing fainter, and you are once more becoming recognizable, the blur in your face diminishing by the second.

"It's okay," he laughs softly, ruffling your hair to dispel the gloom on your face.

"I don't remember much anyway- I can't teach you anything meaningful, you know? I think Tanti or any of the likes would do much better for your next research material than my native language. We have a reputation across the cosmos anyway, that language can't be intriguing to people."

"Huh?" You tilt your head in confusion, "I'm not going to write a paper on it though???"

"Then what did you want to learn it for?"

"Did you not hear me? I said I wanted to get to know you better."

The feeling of discomfort is back with that, and Aventurine finds himself trying to figure out how to come up with a valid excuse to end the conversation. If he isn't careful, you'll catch on. And if you catch on, you'll keep insisting on trying to understand him, to mend your mistakes and to avoid something similar in future. Then, he'd simply have to cut you off before you go too far. And he'd rather not cut you off and keep you by his side. Yes please, thanks.

You speak once more, but this time you avert your gaze from his eyes and focus on the soft carpet beneath your feet. "If you're not comfortable teaching me, I won't insist. I apologize if I overstepped. I want you to know that my intentions were not malicious. I simply wanted to learn your language so that we could converse in it, and I'm open to sharing my own language with you if you're interested."

Ah. You've now started to speak with more formal and eloquent words than usual, a habit Aventurine has picked up on thanks to observing you for so many years. You always do that when nervous, along with averting eye contact- and you're now anxious.

"it's okay," he reassures you again. "I know what you mean. So no need to worry, hm?"

His words seem to have given you a confidence boost, because your next words catch him off guard again.

"Also, I found your language to be quite beautiful."

"....Beautiful?"

"Yes," you gesture with your hands as you continue, "it's very melodious, you know? I'm familiar with the Sigonian language, as it was one of the languages I studied during my major. However, the Avgin dialect sounds... different. Of course, you're a very quiet mumbler—obviously— and I couldn't understand much- but I've realized that the Avgin is not only is not only significantly different from standard Sigonian, but it also has a much sweeter sound. As a linguist, it's disheartening to think that this sweetness has gone unnoticed by the world."

The initial panic has completely dissipated for Aventurine, replaced by a sadness even he can't place what for. He has half a mind to laugh, and tell you that his people were sweet too, but no one cared for that either. He wants to say of course it sounded sweeter, the standard Sigonian had always been dry and lacking the warmth, any Avgin would agree with you. And yet, he dares not let the dam loose.

Instead of voicing his thoughts, he decides to observe you, as the ringing in his ears has now completely silenced. The you in front of his eyes is meek, likely because you've assumed you overstepped and made him upset. He hates seeing that expression on you: truly, especially when you shouldn't have to feel that guilt. He knows you well enough to know you're not lying, and for a split second— he entertains the idea of sharing the sweetness of his language with you, to have someone else who can understand his tongue.

He decides it's not an entirely uncomfortable thought.

It has been a few weeks since he agreed to teach you the Avgin dialect, and he still finds it surprising that he made that decision. Everything related to the Avgins and their culture is dear to him, including his people, his family, and of course, kakavasha; he protects them with all of his being. However, for some reason, he has chosen to share this delicate and intimate part of himself with you. After all, he is the last known surviving Avgin—this is more than personal; it's his mother tongue, for goodness' sake!

You've proven yourself to be a very very dedicated student, absorbing every piece of information he imparts like a sponge. Aventurine is unsure of how to teach you, as he himself is losing touch with his language thanks to not speaking it for years. Because of you, he now thinks more in Avgin and realizes how much he thought he had forgotten but still remembered, and how much he thought he remembered but had forgotten.

But it's nice, to be greeted in his language whenever you two come across each other. You're still cheerful and sparkling as before, but now you can greet him in his language. «Hello, how's your day going!!!» You ask him each time, with that accent and broken words that makes you sound childish more than anything. But Aventurine could care less about that; he's quick to greet you back each time, adding a new word so you learn something from each interaction.

You've told him that he's much much more expressive whenever speaking Avgin, but he tries not to think about it.

"Manro means bread," Aventurine informs you, observing quietly as you eagerly jot it down in your notepad. "I quite like the feel of pen and paper," you told him once, and he still can't comprehend why that's preferable to typing on a screen instead.

"Mañro?" you repeat, and he has to conceal an affectionate smile at your accent. It's unfamiliar and odd, but not disliked. Never disliked.

"Manro." He corrects, and you get it down this time.

"So….«manro» means bread and you said…«pani» meant water? So let's say I wanna talk about my lunch….«I water with bread eat?» Is that how you say it?"

Aventurine purses his lips, trying to appear serious. "No, it's «I ate bread with water.» But what's with that meal choice? That can't be good for you."

You only huff in response, "hey— I'm still learning okay!! How do you say wine?"

"Mol"

"Mol— how about wanting to drink or taste?"

Aventurine raises an eyebrow, "Zumavel"

"Okok. So…. «I want to taste wine really bad. Might die.»"

Aventurine snickers at that, turning his gaze away to avoid receiving another punch from you. Despite the fact that you've opted for this inefficient learning method—since he can't provide proper grammar lessons—the sentences you're coming up with are hilarious.

"Not quite. It's «I want to drink wine so bad that I might die»" he corrects you again, and you let out an embarrassed laugh to write the correct structure down. You've promised him you'll figure out the grammatical structure and everything to him after all. And he can't say he's not hoping you actually will.

"How do you say eye?"

"Just like how you say in standard Sigonian"

"Ohhh….I've noticed that body part names are usually unchanged in the Avgin dialect. How about warmth?"

"We call it tato" he smiles at you, and your cheeks tint the faintest hue of pink as you look away.

"«Your eyes—»" you purse your lips, thinking hard to form the structure "«-Are warm right now. Very warm.»"

Aventurine's eyes widen, and for a moment he's speechless; unable to comprehend how and why. But you're blushing, and playing with the hem of your shirt, which means at the very least you aren't lying.

«I'm afraid you've become my heart» He says under his breath, the words escaping his mouth before he can even stop them. It tastes sweet in his tongue, memories of a time long gone resurfacing. He didn't even remember that saying, up until now. And now, he has a little more understanding of how sweet his mother tongue really is.

"What does that mean?" You ask him, and he merely smiles at that.

"Nothing. I just said thank you."

A/N : gah I'm sorry for that word vomit I can't stop thinking about it....like one been thinking for months about his language and what it might mean for him now that he's (presumably) the only avgin left. My mother tongue has PLENTY of dialects, and there are certain ones that are totally different from the standard (I don't understand some of those) so I kind of projected....and other than that I hope it wasn't too bad omg

#aventurine x reader #aventurine #honkai star rail aventurine #x reader

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satoshy12 · 1 year ago

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Vlad ends up joining the Legion of Doom.

All his fellow villains think his enemy is really a Badger.

I mean, Vlad explained that he is tiny, white-haired, aggressive, and attacks the other villains without fear! To be fair, Danny. He is behaving kind of like one.

- I mean, look at Danny vs. Massive and Taller Ghosts, and then look at this picture; it's the same.

So the whole Legion of Doom thinks all the scars and how he was beaten up were by a tiny Badger.

Well, they learned the truth as the tiny white-haired child, who kind of behaved like one, attacked the Legion of Doom... and attacked all the villains till he found Vlad. And he attacked the heroes too.

To Danny's defense:. He had no idea who those people were, but he knows Vlad!

He sent that 10,000+ box to him! It's just fair that he beat him up! He had to find Box Ghost in all those boxes in the city, like Wack a Mole!! It was Vlad way to make danny not follow him. +

And Amity Park doesn't talk about heroes or villains outside, as they have to join the JL and have no time to protect their town all the time. So Amity Park adults made sure their hero didn't find out, so no talk about the outside world." I mean, Phantom protected Amity Park on the Alien Invasion post fanboying about them, while other cities got badly destroyed!

++ Gorilla Grodd looking at all the Chaos the boy did:" Well it makes sense he is called a Badger." Atomic Skull:" IfPlasmius wants to return, he won't piss of that Badger first." Giganta:" He kind of was cute. And very strong." Giganta was kicked into a new room by the boy.

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nathanbatemanfucker · 2 months ago

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Fault Lines Ch. 3

request: wanted to know if you could write something where the reader is a ex-winter solider (just like bucky, but maybe she doesn't lose her arm) and how she struggles to accept Joaquin. An overall angst to fluff.

pairing: joaquin torres x ex super soldier!f!reader

contents: canon typical violence, illusions to abuse and torture, ptsd and other mental illness, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff if you squint!!!

wc: 1,996

an: there’s some fluff!!! some yearning!!!! it’s happeninggg!!!!!

fault lines masterlist

The inside of the jet is dimly lit, the loud hum of the engines filling the space between you, Sam, and Joaquin. The mission is set, coordinates have been punched in. All there’s left to do is wait for the doors to open.

You sit near the back, arms crossed, your gaze fixed out the window like you can see more than just clouds and endless sky. Your mind swirls with possibilities, some short and to the point while others require a sickness you’re trying to out run. A thirst for blood you no longer let yourself verbalize.

You’re tense, even as you try not to show it. Joaquin can see it in the way your fingers drum against your bicep, the way your shoulders stay squared, like you’re bracing for a hit.

Sam watches you from across the aisle, his face schooled into something undetectable to someone that didn’t know him. But, Joaquin knows that look. It’s the one Sam gets when he’s deciding whether someone is an ally or a problem he’ll have to deal with later.

Joaquin’s been on the receiving end of that stare before. It’s not fun.

“You mind, I don’t know, telling us where we’re headed?” Sam finally asks. His voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it. He’s been patient, but that patience is wearing thin.

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you shift, finally turning your attention from the window to glance between them. If you have doubts about sharing, you don’t let them show.

“There’s a compound in those mountains I showed you,” you say. “Off-grid. Any records are by hand, there’s no digital footprint. Hydra’s been using it for years.”

Sam frowns, exchanging a look with Joaquin before turning back to you. “And you know this how?”

“You really have to ask?” You lean back, stretching out like you’re settling in for a conversation neither of them will like. “Because I’ve been there.”

Joaquin studies you carefully. He doesn’t miss the way your voice flattens or the way your jaw tenses just slightly, like the words taste bitter.

Sam looks at you with skepticism. “So, what? You escaped?”

Joaquin expects you to dodge the question. To roll your eyes, make some sarcastic comment, deflect like you have before. But you don’t.

You just hold Sam’s stare, expression indistinct, and say, “They thought they snuffed out anything in me that could oppose them. They were wrong.”

An eerie silence settles between the three of you.

Joaquin feels it in his chest, the weight of what you aren’t saying. He doesn’t ask more questions and he doesn’t have to. Whatever happened to you at that compound, it was bad enough to turn you into the person sitting in front of him now—one who doesn’t trust easily, one who’s convinced that their way is the only way.

Who would choose that life when it was so dangerous and unpredictable? So lonely?

Sam leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “You know we’re probably walking into a trap, right? They know someone is coming, they’ll be prepared.”

A small smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth; it's cruel. “Of course we are. But their version of prepared is generally…mediocre.”

Joaquin shakes his head. “And yet, you’re still willing to go back? What if that’s changed?”

Your smirk fades, and you grow defensive. “I don’t have a choice. I can do this with or without you. Regardless, it gets done.”

Joaquin studies you, watching the way your fingers tighten around your arm. He’s seen this before—different faces, different stories, but the same weight pressing down on someone’s shoulders. The same need to see something through, no matter the cost.

He glances at Sam, sees that his friend is thinking the same thing. This mission isn’t just business for you. It’s personal, making it dangerous.

Sam exhales, leaning back with a sigh. “We’ll be there in a few hours. Try to get some rest.”

You don’t comment, but Joaquin doubts you’ll actually sleep. Neither will he, not with how worried he is about you. He settles in for the long flight, keeping his eyes on you as the jet cuts through the sky.

—

The three of you know that it’s a trap the moment you touch terf. There are no birds chirping, no other detectable wildlife. There’s more snow here, but it doesn’t bother you— the weather never does. Not with what’s been done to you. Joaquin and Sam take turns fighting shivers.

The compound is too quiet, the guards too easily evaded. You lead the way, your movements sharp and precise, like you’ve memorized every inch of this place. Joaquin thinks that maybe you have.

He and Sam follow you closely, moving in tandem as you navigate through the poorly lit halls. The plan is simple: get in, secure the target, get out. But, plans never survive first contact.

With Joaquin’s specter-scanner you all find a gang of them in a control room near the back along with one of Hydra’s last remaining heads. The one you were hoping for if his attire is any indicator. It will take effort to get him with the dozen guards, weapons raised, eyes cold.

The second the three of you breach the doorway, the room erupts into utter chaos.

Gunfire cracks through the air. Joaquin moves on instinct, taking cover behind a console, returning fire as Sam pushes forward, his shield deflecting rounds with ease.

You don’t hesitate, at least not at first. No cover and no concern you bulldoze along side Sam. You’re a storm, striking fast and hard, taking down Hydra agents with ruthless precision. There are only a few left to incapacitate when it happens…

The target speaks, and you feel your muscles lock up as if under a spell. He hasn’t even said the trigger words but just the cadence of his voice is enough to bring back the sourly sick feeling of death inside you.

His voice is one you shouldn’t recognize, but do. It’s one you thought you were safe from hearing.

You completely freeze under the weight of his voice. Joaquin sees it happen, sees the fear pool in your eyes before you go still.

A Hydra agent moves in on you, taking your pause as an opportunity to raise his gun at you.

Joaquin doesn’t think, he simply moves like it’s second nature.

He throws himself toward you, tackling you out of the way as the bullet rips through the air where you were just standing. The two of you hit the ground hard, his body covering yours as another round embeds itself in the floor beside your head.

“Snap out of it,” he grits out, his voice urgent. “You’re here, you’re safe. You’re with me.”

You blink, eyes refocusing on him. You take him in; a stray hair falling into his face, the slope of his nose, the warmth of his body on yours.

“Querida. Here and now,” he urges above you.

And just like that, the moment is over. You shove him off, rolling back onto your feet.

Sam’s already taken down most of the guards, but the target is gone, slipping through a back exit. By the time you reach the door, the compound is on full lockdown. The mission is blown.

There’s no choice but to retreat.

Joaquin grabs your wrist, pulling you after him as the three of you escape into the woods, the distant sound of alarms still ringing in his ears.

—

The safe house feels smaller than it did just the day before.

Sam is outside again, pacing as he makes calls, his voice low but sharp. You and Joaquin are inside, sitting on opposite sides of the room but it feels like you’re on top of each other. The silence between you is as thick as the weight pressing on your chest.

Joaquin is watching you. He has been since he got you back on the plane.

You’re not sure what you hate more—the fact that you froze during the mission or the fact that he noticed. You can still feel the warmth of his fingertips wrapped around your wrist, feel the weight of his body on top of your when he saved you from the bullet. You hate it.

“Go ahead,” you mutter, voice flat. “Say what you want to say.”

Joaquin exhales, leaning back in his chair. “Alright. You hesitated back there, and it almost got you killed.”

Your fingers twitch. You knew it was coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier to hear. “Thanks for the recap, baby bird,” you say sourly.

“I’m serious,” Joaquin pushes. “That wasn’t just random hesitation. It was something else.”

You glare at him. “Drop it.”

“No,” he says stubbornly.

Your jaw tightens. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

Joaquin shakes his head. “I want to understand. Because you’re the one who keeps saying we don’t get it. So make me get it.”

You stand abruptly, pacing to the other side of the room. Your hands are shaking. You shove them into your pockets, willing them to stop, willing it all to stop.

Joaquin stays where he is, but his voice softens. “I saw your face when you heard him. It wasn’t shock, not on its own. You recognized the guy. Who is he?”

You turn, meeting his gaze. “I could never forget him,” you admit. “Because he made me. Made me this…this fucked up piece of machinery. Only fires right when those damn words are said and it’s not even for good. He made me a monster so sorry if I hesitated in the face of my bastardized god.”

Joaquin goes still, regretting his line of questioning. You’ve only talked this much when you’re the right mix of angry and afraid. If he could have his way, you’d never feel either ever again.

You let out a breath, forcing yourself to keep talking.

“I thought he was dead,” you say. “I thought we were going in for his second in command. But he’s still out there. And if he’s still out there, that means there’s more. That means—” your voice breaks and you stop.

Joaquin doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t push. He just waits.And for some reason, that makes it worse because you’re used to people giving orders. You’re used to expectations. No choice, no autonomy, no voice. But this—someone just listening—it’s unfamiliar. It’s terrifying.

You look away, gathering yourself once more. “I spent years turning myself into a weapon to get away from them. And tonight, for the first time, I felt like I was right back there. Like nothing I did mattered.”

Joaquin watches you for a long moment, then stands. You tense, but he doesn’t move toward you.Instead, he grabs a med kit off the table and tosses it onto the cot beside you.

You frown, confused. “What’s this for?”

“You took a hit,” he says. “Figured you’d rather patch it up yourself than let me do it.”

You glance down at your arm—sure enough, there’s a gash along your bicep, the fabric of your sleeve torn. You hadn’t even noticed.

Sitting down you open the med kit and get started taking care of yourself. As you learning, Joaquin is observant and often right— you don’t want him to do it for you. You aren’t sure you could handle someone’s gentle, caring touch.

Joaquin doesn’t leave, he just sits back down across from you, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re wrong, you know.”

You glance up. “About what?”

“About nothing you did mattering.” His voice is quiet but certain. “You made it out. You’re still fighting. That means something.”

You don’t respond right away. You’re not sure you can. Once again, Joaquin doesn’t push for an answer. He gives you space to say something or nothing.

Since escaping Hydra captivity you feel like no matter what choice you make, it might all be okay.

lmk if you’d like to be on the sfw joaquin torres taglist!

sfw joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun, @isuckatmath, @arsonhotchner, @sidkneeeee, @galaxywannabe, @retrosabers, @marchingicenotes7, @marroonwitch, @jaebugzz, @that-girl-named-alex, @bxtchboy69, @moonymeloncholymoney, @mischiefmanaged71, @something-random-idk, @dualinstinct, @alevanswrites, @articel1967, @lanoviadestiles, @zolassalgorhythm

> ch. 4

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x fem!reader #joaquin torres x f!reader #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres fanfiction #joaquin torres fic #joaquin torres imagine #captain america: bnw fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #x reader #arson writes

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softsunnyy · 2 months ago

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Jack misunderstood your closeness to one of your friends after overhearing a conversation. This led him to make decisions that hurt both of you.

it was then that your friends decided to make a plan… one that can go very well or really bad.

🚨 angst, fluff, it was supposed to be enemies to lovers, but i got distracted and ended up writing a loser and jealous Jack. Trevor is a flirty mf. Luke is a bit of an enemy. Really poor ending. No use of yn 🚨

while writing this i came up with a super smutty alternate ending, so let me know if you want that one too.

when Jack woke up that morning, he knew from the start that the day would be chaotic, as the first thing he heard was his friends' voices from the living room, along with his brothers' voices and some music in the background. Still, he mentally prepared himself, showered, dressed, and went to see them.

what he didn't expect was the scene he found.

sure, he knew you were coming; Luke told him, and even warned him to behave. But this? Since when did you become so close to his friends? Cole doesn't seem to want to leave your side, like a child clinging to its mother. And you're laughing too loudly for his liking at whatever Trevor and Alex are telling you.

what's going on? this didn't used to be like this the last time he saw you.

Quinn stood beside him, smiling amusedly, and Jack hates the way Quinn seems to know something he doesn't.

"what?" he asks, defensively, to which his brother just nudges him.

“nothing, why that face? i thought Luke told you she was coming.” He asked, in a tone that only shows how entertained he is.

"yeah, well, i didn't know i'd have to see her so close to my friends all these days too," he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

and see, it's not that Jack was a piece of shit, or a terrible friend. In fact, you two used to get along pretty well. But his problem is still fairly recent, and he was hoping to have a couple of quiet, normal days, enjoying himself with his friends, and trying to stay as far away from you as possible.

and that must sound pretty dramatic, so for some context, when Luke started telling them about his new friend, they knew right away she´s a good girl, someone who would fit in with their environment. But Luke was clear about one thing, and that was that he didn't want to see Jack flirting with her, and much less breaking her heart.

"please" he said.

and he agreed not to look at you any other way, but when he first met you, he knew it would be a difficult task because you're beautiful, and that combined with how nice you are made everything much harder for him.

and can you blame the man?

when you two talked, it was like a connection. It was easy. And then you kept talking and talking, and Jack felt like he was in heaven every time you stopped talking to everyone else to look at him, to include him in a conversation or start a new one.

and the days passed, and it felt right.

it was almost ridiculous, the way his eyes always found you, and he couldn't stop looking at you, even if you were in the most crowded place.

and the first time he made you laugh? god, he knew he wanted to do it all the time because he loved the feeling of pure happiness that came from seeing you laugh so hard at something he said.

it wasn't even about asking you out, flirting, or getting you into his bed. He wanted to talk to you all the time. He wanted you to see him as a cool guy, to feel the same way.

but that all went down the drain when he accidentally overheard a conversation you were having with his brother. You were talking to him about a boy, and you spoke with such energy and emotion that a part of him wished you were talking about him.

and he got excited, he believed there was a possibility.

but the next day he saw you, talking too much to Ethan, barely even looking at him, as if he no longer existed to you. And he felt weird, of course, but he tried to ignore it.

the thing is… this kept happening. For days, your attention was on Ethan, and the conversations between the two of you started to disappear. He could only watch from afar.

a lot of doubts began to settle in his head, obviously. Doubts that kept him awake until late at night, creating insecurities that weren't usually there before.

god, why were you looking at him?

is it his hair? is he more fun? more attractive?

what do you expect him to do?

this began to create a feeling inside him that he didn't like.

the constant fatigue, the emptiness in his stomach, the anxiety that turned into anger.

you were supposed to be looking at him, Jack.

and he wanted to do something about it. He wanted to intervene, interrupt the conversations, talk to you more often. Remind you that he's still there. But a part of him remembers Luke's words, and the conversation he overheard you two having.

is it too late? you were talking about Ethan this whole time?

he felt like an idiot, like a loser, and that's something he's never been used to. He always fights for what he wants, to be the best, to achieve everything. But now he feels like he can't do anything anymore, that he arrived too late.

that made him feel bad, angry. Not with you, but with himself, for letting Luke's words get to his head and keep him from being himself and doing what he does best. And i don't mean playing with you, but at least making his intentions clear from the start, so you don't see someone else. So you see him.

and for the first time, he gave up, decided to distance himself. Because god, it was incredibly hard to look at you and not feel the need to hold your hand, kiss you, and do whatever he wanted for so long.

every time he looks at you there's that thought, that doubt, the "what if…?", and he can't stand it.

he needs you and can't have you.

so now he's being a jerk, or at least he knows that's what everyone thinks. Including you, probably. But he prefers it this way, because he'd rather keep you away than continue hurting himself, even if it means losing everything you two had built.

now, everyone's asked. Luke, Quinn, his friends, even his parents. And he knows you're dying to know, but he just lies, shrugs, and looks away. He tries to go back to the usual Jack, but without speaking to you, and it feels so impossible.

but he prefers that to telling the truth, to telling everyone about how he feels like a loser, about how his heart and pride have been hurt by someone who may never have looked at him any differently.

he just can't do it.

it was another of your laughs that brought him out of his head. He didn't even listen to what Quinn was saying, just giving you one last look before leaving, passing by his brother and heading into the kitchen. Maybe eating something would make him feel better, or make the emptiness in his stomach go away.

although he knows it doesn't work that way. But how can he have a good time if he's not around you?

and you, oh you, you saw him immediately when he appeared in the room, feeling nervous, intimidated, and even guilty. Cole's head resting on your shoulder and his friends telling you stories that made you laugh.

you saw his expression, and you knew it was because of you, because you were even more involved in his life than before, and you wanted to run, to hide, because you didn't want him to get mad at you anymore.

and you hate it, you hate how even though you should be angry at him, and hate him for how he's made you feel, your heart still races at the sight of him, and your eyes search for him everywhere he goes. Your feet itch, wanting to walk over to him. Your fingers ache from clenching them in your palms, holding back the urge to hug him.

and it hurts, because you remember everything, because doubts return to your mind, and hope hurts and turns into a constant emptiness in your chest.

you never understood why, why he walked away, why out of nowhere he seems to hate your existence. And you tried to talk to him a thousand times, but he always manages to escape, to ignore you.

god, he can't even look at you.

and it hurts even more because you're still so in love with him, and whatever you did had you crying for nights on end, curled up in your bed while you were on the phone with Luke, asking him why.

whatever you did almost made you distance yourself from your friends because you were so upset. Everyone told you that he was in love with you, and that you'd look beautiful together, only for Jack to do this??

you even cried the night before, and you called Luke, telling him you regretted going, that you couldn't do it.

he convinced you, talked to you for almost two hours about why you should go. But all that went down the drain the second you saw him.

still, Trevor noticed, so he started telling you another story, something about how Dylan fell that morning when they were almost on their way to pick you up. That made you laugh a little, which lightened the mood a bit again.

you're grateful to have them, even with all this, because even when you got angry, they've been there for you, worrying about every detail, apologizing on Jack's behalf, trying to make you feel better, and getting closer to you so you wouldn't feel alone.

what you didn't know, though, is that they had a lot of time to talk all these weeks, trying to come to conclusions about why all this is happening, and they sort of came up with something.

now, they wanted to make a plan, and that wasn't easy, because let's be honest, we're talking about your friends, who with eleven heads don't make one, and who are looking for some… extreme solutions.

they thought about locking you two in a room, cornering Jack and forcing him to confess, intervening in very invasive ways, until they thought about... what seemed like the ideal solution.

pushing Jack to the limit.

now, what do i mean by this? well, they spent a good amount of time thinking about their theory, on how Jack probably feels rejected, or locked into the idea that you don't reciprocate his feelings, so they decided to push him to his limit, to the point where he has to confess to be at peace.

they know it's not the best option, and that besides being immature, it's also dangerous, because they know how their friend gets. But it's either that or wait for years until Jack moves on and is just a grumpy old man, without his girl and angry at all of them.

so Trevor offered to be the main enemy, because he knows he can do it, although the others also gonna collaborate, like Cole, who hasn't left your side since you entered that house, or Quinn, who will be in charge of bothering Jack every time he notices his gaze on you.

still, they have to be careful, because the idea is that you don't get suspicious, because they know that you will feel upset and embarrassed, and all the effort to make you not sad will go down the drain.

and so they spend the next few days, looking for every opportunity to be a little more affectionate, more attentive, more touchy. And you don't think anything of it at first, not too much anyway, because you think they're just trying to take care of you, since they do that every time Jack's around. But as time goes on… it starts to feel strange, a little overwhelming. Especially Trevor, who's already flirty, but now he's flirting a lot more often.

and oh Jack, he knows you're there, and he tries not to look at you, but when he hears Trevor call you, he can't help but stare, and his jaw clenches when he hears him call you pretty, or when he uses the stupid lines he's heard him use with other girls in bars in the past. And he sees the way you look at him in confusion, like you don't understand why he's flirting with you, or why he's suddenly acting like this and that makes him mad.

but he's also confused, and it gets worse with each passing day.

weren't you with Ethan? why doesn't Ethan seem affected by the way they talk to you and touch you?

what's going on?

and even though he doesn't understand, he feels furious, jealous, because he would love to be the one who makes you laugh and blush, or the one who hugs you, the one who accompanies you everywhere.

but he can't do it, so he has to hold back his urges, becoming grumpier and grumpier with each passing second. And at first, you could tell by how incredibly competitive he became with basic games, even aggressive just to win, so you could see he's better. But now? Oh, he feels like he can't even move without walking up to one of his best friends and punching them in the face.

he wants to grab you by the waist and get out of there, or kiss you, or just show them that he'd be better for you, and this spiral of thoughts is driving him crazy.

he can't even see normal conversations as normal anymore. He's obsessive, and he feels like they're flirting with you all the time.

and you? you feel more and more overwhelmed, and you don't understand what's happening, and for some reason, everyone seems to be on edge, tense, searching for something. And it seems like any minute Trevor and Jack will jump at each other's throats, or start barking at each other about something you don't know.

and it's a particular day when everything explodes, when everything seems to reach its climax.

you'd been scrolling through tiktoks all day until you came across a trend. It was innocent, funny, and you wanted to see how your friends would react to it, so you decided to try it.

you looked around until you found your first victim, Trevor.

"hey, Trev", he looked at you, smiling immediately and walking up to you. At the same time, another pair of eyes began to observe.

"yeah?"

"would you lend me 20 bucks?" you asked, smiling and blinking, trying to look innocent, even though you wanted to laugh, knowing your friend would question you and you wouldn't be able to hold back.

"of course," he answered immediately, which surprised you a little. He was still smiling.

"and 50?"

“whatever you ask of me.” for a moment you saw him glance behind you, but you were more focused on trying to think about what he was saying, trying to figure out if he was serious.

“wait, really?”

“sure, anything for you,” he said, which made you smile, satisfied with the answer.

it was then that you heard the backyard door slam shut, making you jump. The smile on Trevor's face grew even wider, and you began to wonder.

"what was that?" you asked, this time with a serious expression on your face.

however, you didn't stop to hear his answer and decided to follow your instincts, walking to the door and going outside.

Jack was sitting outside, staring at his hands, which were shaking a little.

he heard you and saw you out of the corner of his eye, so he decided to get up, ready to go back inside and not be in the same place as you.

that hurt you, but you weren't going to let him leave, not again, so you stood in front of the door.

he stood in front of you, staring at the floor and sighing heavily.

"please…"

“Jack, do you have a problem with me?” you asked directly, accidentally interrupting him.

the question made his stomach hurt, and you couldn't deny it, you felt like throwing up.

“should i?” he replied, trying to sound defensive, though failing miserably.

“you don't talk to me anymore, and i don't even know what i did.” You said, in a tone that showed exasperation, discontent. You need answers, and it's time for him to give them to you.

he sensed it, so he looked up. The impact was on both of you, because now all he wants to do is kneel and beg for your forgiveness, his heart nearly bursting out of his chest and his hands shaking unstoppably.

he'd never felt so out of control over his body and emotions, but just looking at you was enough to shatter his world and the mask he'd created for his broken heart.

and you? you felt like you could cry again. You'd missed seeing him so close, his voice toward you. God, you'd barely heard his voice these past few days, and you missed him so much.

“you didn't do anything” his voice was so soft and low that you were grateful to be close enough to hear him.

"bullshit, there has to be something" you said, a little more desperate "There has to be a reason for you to hate me." He shook his head, shocked and almost offended.

“i don't hate you, i've never hated you.”

“so what is it, Jack?” you asked, desperate "please... just tell me"

"i thought we were going to have something, and when i heard you talking to Luke… i thought you were talking about me" you tried to remember, but he kept talking "but i was wrong, and then you and Ethan…" he laughed without grace, looking back at the floor "i felt like an idiot”

“wait, Ethan? what are you talking about?” you were more than confused at the mention of your friend.

“you two started getting too close, you weren't even talking to me and..." you finally understood what he meant, and you had to clarify it now, so you interrupted him.

"no, Jack, this is where i stop you. I never had anything with him. I did spend more time with him, but it's because he had to get home before everyone else, so i wanted to take advantage of the time i had with my friend" You sighed, frustrated to know that this is part of why "i never, ever noticed you were feeling this way, and i´m really sorry"

there were a couple of seconds of silence, where you gave him space to process the information and think of a response. However, during the silence, you needed to let go of what you'd been holding in for so long.

"you need to know… that i was talking to Luke about you," you confessed, to which he quickly looked at you, eyes wide, his heart about to explode. "I've liked you for a while now, but i couldn't get too close because you pushed me away."

and oh, he feels like an idiot.

he looks at you carefully, trying to see if you're being honest, and your eyes confirm it.

"i'm sorry, i'm really sorry. I´m so stupid." He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it in frustration. You wanted to tell him so many things, confess so many things, but you didn't know where to start. And he feels horrible, and wants so much to go back in time and make things right.

all the things you imagined experiencing together. All the times he wanted to kiss you, or you wanted to kiss him, sit on his lap and enjoy being his.

and you couldn't stand it anymore. You needed to do something, and all you could come up with was a quick, needy response.

"i'm assuming you feel the same," you cleared your throat, suddenly feeling nervous. You were going to say something impulsive, but you need to do it, you need to ask him for what you've been wanting for so long "So why don't you kiss me? we can figure this out later."

and you didn't need to tell him twice because he immediately joined his mouth on yours in a desperate, intense kiss. His hands went to your waist, pulling you closer to his body, while your arms wrapped around his neck.

there's still things to talk about, including the scene your friends made these past few days. But now? right now, Jack just wants to kiss you until it hurts, until you beg for some distance.

because he can't believe you're his. And now that you are, he won't let you go, he won't. He gave up once, he won't do it again.

#☀️💞#softsunnyy #jack hughes #jh86 #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes angst #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes x fem!reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #jh86 x reader

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bigmoon-is-bigwife · 2 months ago

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What really endears me to TR!Sneeg is that he's arguably the most powerful person on the server but all he really wants to do is share that power with the people he cares about. He happily shares his machines and knowledge with others because he wants them to be strong too. Sneeg doesn't want to stand on this pillar of godhood alone and he wants his loved ones beside him. He wants them beside him because if they're as strong as him, then they're as safe as him. However, he also understands that few people are willing and able to grind as much as him so he shares his own power with them and asserts himself as their protector.

Sneeg takes his role of protector very seriously. He placed himself in the role initially for Ros but he has fully extended that to the rest of Yellow. Now that he has reached Nirvana I think he feels obligated to make up for being away for so long. He has started hanging around closer to the castle and watching over conversations Green Faction has with any Yellow faction member and is always ready to step in if needed. He doesn't insert himself in the conversation unless he feels it's necessary but he likes to just watch with his crossbow loaded, just in case. Sometimes he makes himself known and sometimes he doesn't but he is gradually establishing that he could be around at any time and that Green Faction should always be wary with messing with Yellow faction members.

Sneeg really leans into his reputation of being this cold and distant figure the rest of the server sees him as when he's around Green Faction. He does not like or trust them and he reminds them that he is very capable of killing them if he chooses. He does not shy away from pointing his gun at them and promising retaliation if they try anything. I've used the term "Scary Dog Privilege" before with Sneeg and it has somehow managed to become even more accurate. He allows himself to be painted as this mythic terrifying legend because he knows it'll make people hesitate to mess with him and his people. No one is ever ballsy enough to pick a fight if they know Sneeg is around.

When Pili died what really upset Sneeg was the precedent it set. Even if Pangi says it had nothing to do with factions, Sneeg does not like the idea of anyone getting comfortable with killing any Yellow faction members. He has considered killing all of Green just so they aren't a threat anymore. And Green Faction knows that Sneeg is what protects Yellow. Pangi and Lukey agree that if they can kill Sneeg then the rest of Yellow will fall easily but as long as Sneeg is around, Yellow is very protected and everyone knows it. I think Sneeg would be very proud of this.

I think it's also notable how Sneeg has never trusted Pangi at all but he knows Ros does so he tends to be a little nicer towards him compared to how he is with other Green members, even offering him advice. That is until Pangi killed Pili. After that, when Sneeg saw Pangi was looking for Ros he immediately went on the defensive and was ready to kill Pangi at any sign of threatening behavior. I think any bit of good faith Sneeg had extended towards him for Ros's sake may be out the window now but he did make an effort to try. Despite the front he puts up with potential enemies, Sneeg is incredibly soft towards the ones he protects. He's the most powerful person on the server but he will drop everything to be silly and use his god-like powers and fly people like Ros and Aimsey around. He showers his kingdom in gifts and loves to be useful in any way possible. At his core he is a protector and what is a protector if there is nothing to protect?

#i love TR!Sneeg so so so much #hes just such a guy. love characters who are so guard dog coded #like almost everything about his character hinges on his desire to see his people safe #like power means nothing if theres no one to share it with and Im obsessed with how he just gave Ros a stack of diamond blocks #and also the way from the very start he named himself Smith Daddy and asserted himself as the guy who makes everyones gear #like RAAAAAH he just wants to be useful and help his people and it drives me insane #sneegsnag #the realm smp #coyote howls

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rosenclaws · 3 months ago

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ma meilleure ennemie || Worst!Logan x Reader

summary: Logan loved, lost, fought, and killed you in his world. Now after being thrust into another universe. He finds you in a world where things worked out. How unfair.

warnings: angst, fem pronouns are used for the reader, its kinda a sad ending but like bittersweet more. talks of fighting and violence

wc: 4.2k

a/n: This is based on the song from Arcane! I would highly recommend watching the show btw its amazing and the scene this song is from is absolutely gorgeous. Anyways I hope y'all enjoy <33

Logan was really sick of all this multiverse stuff. Like seriously.

He barely remembers what happened. Wade had taken another one of this universe hopping devices from the TVA in order to complete some mission but as usual the two got into it. Shouting and fighting until Logan's claws went right into the little device. Before either of them could react it exploded. Logan felt like every atom in his body was being ripped apart and put back together. The world was spinning and he wasn’t quite sure where he was anymore.

In the blink of an eye he's not standing next to wade anymore. He in a bedroom. The light shining through the window and birds chirping outside. Logan looks down and sees that he's no longer in a bloody yellow and blue suit, but simple sweatpants and a black shirt. What the actually fuck. He catches a glimpse of himself in a mirror.

He looks different, just slightly. He had less wrinkles and the bags under his eyes were gone. His hair was a little longer too. It was uncanny as hell. It was him, he was moving his hand and touching his face but it doesn't fully feel like him. He hears laughter outside of his door.

Slowly he opens it, poking his head out to see the hallways bustling with students and teachers. He catches a glimpse of blue fur and he slams the door shut. No no no this isn't real. This is some weird fucked up nightmare dream thing. His heart starts to race as the sights and smells of this odd world start to fuck with his senses. He shuts his eyes and bangs his head against the door. Just wake up already Logan.

Wake. Up.

"You drink too much last night honey?" Logan acts before he can think.

Claws out and slamming whoever had snuck up on him into the door. Logan's eyes widen as he sees you under his arm. Confusion in your eyes as you tug at his arm.

"Fuck! Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." You push him away with your powers but Logan's gaze only hardens.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He growls. He should bury these deep in your fucking head.

"I live here?" You furrow your brows as you put your hands up.

You take a step forward but Logan takes on back. His defenses are up and he won't make the same mistake this time. You're dangerous, you're the enemy.

"Logan what's gotten into you?" You ask softly. You try again to reach out and touch him but he flinches away.

"Stay away from me." He pushes past you, shoving you into the wall as he rips the door open and runs down the hall. Ignoring the call of his name.

He wanders aimlessly around the mansion until he finds Charles office. If anyone can explain what was happening it's him.

"Ah Logan, I've been waiting for you to arrive, please sit." Hesitantly he sits down, he can't help but observe everything around him.

The last time he was here, at the mansion, was the worst day of his life. But now everyone's laughing and happy. He blinks and the memories flashes in his mind. The blood that stained the walls, the smell of burning, the screams.

"So much pain. I'm so sorry." Charles wheels over to Logan.

"Hey chuck. Been a long time." Logan grumbles. His hands dig into the chair handles, almost tearing them off the more he lets his mind spiral.

"Forgive me for prying, but your thoughts are incredibly loud." Charles pokes and prods Logan's brain. Seeing glimpses of his world and this one mashing together.

"You're not from here." Logan nods his head.

"I don't know how I got here but, I need to get back."

"Start from the beginning." Logan spills it all.

Starting with his own world. How he walked away and it led to everyone being killed. The years of grieving and killing. How he was found and kidnapped by Wade and how it led to him saving the universe. How their fight led to him being thrown into a completely new timeline. Appearing to have taken over the body of this worlds Logan. And you. How you were in his bedroom and the flurry of emotions that came with it.

In Logan's world you were a very powerful mutant with mind powers. You were kind and friendly, but rumbling deep within you was a terrifying power. Power that could level a city with only the snap of your fingers. Charles had taken you in as a child and nursed your abilities. Teaching you the importance of control. You were his prized student. But then Jean came along and Jean became everything you couldn't be. At least that's what you had always told Logan.

She took the spotlight. She got everyone's love an admiration. People weren't scared of her. Her power was graceful and strong while yours was reckless and something to fear. When Logan rolled around you were a professor. He had caught your eye from the moment he was brought in. A handsome, mysterious stranger. But as always it seemed that Jean was the one to grab his attention. Which Logan admits is true, at first. But Jean didn't want him and he respected that.

Logan met you in the middle of the night one day. Small talk turned into more as the sun came up and the two of you were still wrapped up on the couch. You understood him more than anyone and he got you. Your romance may have started slow but it grew into a pillar of Logan's life. He loved you. God he loved you so fucking much. You were his light, his love. You were never a second choice to him, but the right one. The only one that mattered.

But he got to you too late.

All that pain and doubt had been manifesting years before he got there and after one bad mission you exploded. The team had turned on you, told you that it was your fault. It was misplaced anger from everyone. Including him. A shame he carries to this day. Your powers became uncontrollable. If not for Charles and Jean together you could have leveled the entire mansion. Logan tried to console you, to bring you back to him but it was too late. You saw the fear and the hatred growing from those you once considered family.

So you left. The brotherhood got to you before Logan could and the next time he saw you was on the opposite side of battle. You had changed. He barely recognized you anymore. You were cruel and ruthless with your powers.

For years the two of you fought on opposite sides. Logan tried to fight for you. He was convinced the you that he knew was still in there but no one else believed him. They told him over and over that you were gone. That the woman he loved was no more and only a cold blooded villain remained.

You hurt his friends, you threatened the mansion, the kids who once looked up to you now shivered at your name. It hurt him to his core, but eventually he accepted it. His love wasn't enough. Nothing could bring you back. You were gone.

It all cumulated about five years after you left. The brotherhood wanted to use you to wipe out all those who opposed them. Innocent people included. Anyone who stood in their way. The X-Men were sent to stop them. It was a bloody, long, intense fight. Allies and enemies being taken down left and right until it was you and Logan left.

"Please sweetheart, I miss you." Logan begs.

"Come back home."

"That place is not my home anymore." You spit. Nothing but hatred in your eyes as you pushed Logan to the ground. Your powers keeping him from moving.

"I'm going to kill you and all your friends. Nothing is going to stand in our way. Nothing!" Your powers let him go but you grab him by the neck.

For a split second Logan thought he saw regret in your eyes. Something. Anything other than the empty soullessness from before.

Logan! Take it! He hears Jean speak in his mind.

She was nursing Scotts wounds, she could barely stand on her own. With a broken roar he digs his claws right into you. He watches as the light drains from your eyes. As the blood pours from the wounds he gave you. He holds you in his arms. Silently whispering that he loves you, that he's sorry.

Your body goes limp and when Logan can no longer hear your heartbeat he knows that you're truly gone.

Why you let go of Logan he'll never know. You had to have known what the risk was. Why would you ever give him free use of his hands, of his claws? A part of him wonders if this is what you wanted.

Your death took a heavy toll on him. He started drinking more and more. The conflicted feelings weighed heavily on him. Most would celebrate your death but he mourned you every damn day. Mourned the woman you were, the woman that you loved.

"What is she doing here?" Logan asks lowly. Memories of his version of you flashing through his head.

"Here she never lost control, never joined the brotherhood.

"What changed?"

"In this world, Jean came to me first. She was my student first and thus Jean helped me train her to control her powers. She was my star student. Never feared her powers." Logan scoffs.

Was that all it took? Was that little difference all it took to save you? If he had loved you enough could he have saved you? Or were you already too far gone by then.

"We'll work on getting you home. I'll talk to hank and get back to you. For now, just try your best to adjust." Logan is dismissed.

Now what? Maybe he should just hole himself in his room until its time to go home. Until he remembers that you're there too. Suddenly he hears kids screaming, his senses kicking into high gear as he runs outside, claws out on instinct. He sees you with a bunch of kids running around screaming. He doesn't have time to think. He just acts.

"Get away from them!" Logan yells. Making everyone stop in their tracks. He lunges at you and you use your powers to slam him to the ground.

"What the fuck is your problem! We were playing a game!" You shout.

"Kids, go back inside." You command and they slowly file inside, whispering amongst themselves.

"How was I supposed to know that?" Logan growls once you let him back up.

He puts his claws away but the hostility doesn't fade. How could it? His brain is so fucked up right now, he had long accepted that you were gone and now he's thrown into a world where you aren't a villain anymore. That you're the woman he loves again but he just can't let himself trust this. He can't. What if Charles is wrong? He just...he can't do this.

"What did you think? Did you actually think I was going to hurt them?!" You ask mostly as a joke.

"Logan, you've been off since this morning." You reach your hand out but he doesn't take it. He pushes himself up. Putting up these walls that you swore you broke a long time ago.

"I think its best if you stay the hell away from me." He walks away without another word.

Leaving you utterly confused.

Logan locks himself away for the next couple days. Only coming out when he was called by Hank and Charles. He could feel your eyes on him every time. Like a sad puppy he kicked to the curb. He doesn't even look at you. He knows he can't. If he does he'll cave. The problem is that Logan knows he can't stay here. He's only setting himself up for heartbreak if he lets you in. Nothing but pain and what could have been. He just doesn't think he can mourn you anymore. He just wants to go home. To forget this ever happened.

Once again he can't sleep, deciding to walk around the mansion instead. Pictures line the walls, some that he recognizes and others he doesn't. He stops and one in particular. Jean and Scotts wedding. Scott looks happy and Jean is a beautiful bride, but that's not what catches his eye.

It's you standing right beside her. A big smile on your face. You look gorgeous. So happy and carefree.

"I remember that day," He jumps hearing your voice once again. He turns to see you standing away from him, but staring at the picture. His claws don't come out this time at least.

"Can't believe Scott even wanted you as one of his groomsmen with how much shit you give him." You say softly.

"Yeah," Logan looks over to the other side of the photo. Seeing himself dressed in a suit. Except Logan's eyes are on you.

"Charles told me. About your situation. I understand why you reacted the way you did. I'd be freaked out too." You rub your arm awkwardly.

"How much did he tell you." He asks.

"Not much. Just that you're from another timeline and you're trying to get back." Logan grunts.

"That...you've been through a lot of pain and loss." Logan's breath hitches. So Charles didn't tell you any specifics. Maybe that's for the best.

"I don't know...what we are in your world. But I want you to know that I'm here for you Logan." He clenches his fits, god how can you be so sweet to him after he almost stabbed you twice. He'll never understand.

"Thanks. I'm sorry If I scared you before." He says.

"You can never scare me." You say and Logan shuts his eyes.

You used to say that to each other. Logan was made to be a weapon and you were a ticking time bomb. Yet not once were you ever afraid of each other. Both of you looking past what others saw.

"What...what am I? To you?" You ask hesitantly.

The question's been eating you alive since you learned about this whole thing. Logan takes a deep breath. Turning to look at you and feeling his heart sink down to his feet.

"It's a long story, one you don't want to hear." He says with a sigh.

"I mean, I have time. I just. I don't want you to have to carry it all alone." You reach up and touch his arm. Logan's eyes close as he feels your fingers trail down to his hand, lacing your fingers with his. It's been so long since he's held your hand.

"Maybe another time sweetheart." Logan squeezes your hand, using all his willpower to let go of your hand.

You watch sadly as Logan walks away, disappearing back into his room without another word.

He lays on the bed staring at the ceiling nursing a glass of whiskey. It's been a week since he got here. They're close to getting him home. There's muffled music coming from the living room.

It's Storms birthday. Logan should be out there, maybe to keep up appearances but a party is the last thing he wants to be at right now. There's a knock at the door and he ignores it. Until another one, and another. Finally he just gets up to tell them to fuck off. He opens the door to see Charles.

"I said no." He mumbles. Ready to slam the door but Charles stops him.

"I'm not here for that. We should be ready to send you home within the hour. That being said. I know it's been a long time since you saw most of us. Consider saying goodbye this time." With that Charles leaves, leaving Logan stunned.

Quietly he grabs his jacket and heads to the party. Sneaking in as best as he can. Sticking to the corner of the room. He sees Storm talking to Jean and Scott. They're smiling and laughing. Jean spots Logan from across the room. Offering him a small smile.

His eyes move over to the middle of the room. They had pushed the furniture around to make room for a dance floor. He watches as He's not strong enough for this? Rogue, Kitty, and Bobby were dancing. Laughing as they take turns making up stupid dance moves. Jubilee was using her powers to create fireworks that lit up the whole room.

She catches Logan's gaze and waves happily. Seeing everyone again, seeing them happy and thriving. It made his heart ache. To know that at least in one universe, everyone is okay. No thanks to him that is.

"Logan! Come dance!" Jubilee shouts, making everyone's eyes turn to him.

"No thanks kid, I don't do that." He grumbles.

"Oh come on Logan, it's a party." She begs.

Logan sighs and pushes himself off the wall. Walking to the dance floor taking Jubilees hand and spinning her around a little bit. A small smile crossing his face.

He remembers Jubliee asking him to dance once. Back in his timeline. She was a kid. There was this school dance and she wanted to go so badly. He took her hands and she stepped on his toes. He made her swore up and down to never speak of it but he remembers it fondly.

"Mind if I cut in?" He turns to see you standing there. You're all dressed up looking so pretty. Jubliee bows out, wiggling her eyebrows making Logan roll his eyes.

"Hi." You say softly as Logan holds out his hand.

"Hi." He says.

You and Logan move in sync. Like nothing had happened as the two of you move to the music. Logan smiles as he twirls you around and dips you. He lets go of the weight on his shoulders. Letting himself just exist for once. To enjoy holding you in his arms and dancing to the music. He'll face reality when he goes back. But tonight, he'll dance.

When the music lets up he drags you outside away from the noise and the prying eyes. You walk through the garden in a nice quiet. He leans down and picks a flower from the ground, putting it behind your year.

"Pretty." You bite your lip as you tug your coat tighter.

You sit on a bench and Logan joins you. From this angle you can see how lively the mansion is tonight. The party, the lights on in the bedrooms. Its so homey. Logan smiles, a part of his heart feels like it's patching itself up. At least its not all bad in every universe right?

"You go back tonight right?" You ask and Logan nods.

"Are you happy to go back?" Logan looks over at you, grabbing your hand and squeezing it tightly.

"I uh, I don't know." The truth is he wants to stay.

God he wants to stay so badly. To live here and be happy. No worries about the world ending or being reminded of his dead friends. But...He can't stay. As badly as he wants to this isn't his life. You aren't his girlfriend.

As he was told before. All the pain he went through made him the man he is now, there are people out there who still need him. Who need the Wolverine to fight for them. You lean your head on his shoulder.

"I wish I could stop time. Just for a second." He mumbles.

His arm wrapping around your shoulder as he watches them sing happy birthday. You lift your head, staring into his eyes. What sad lonely eyes they are. He leans in, foreheads touching as he cups your face gently.

"Can we, can we just pretend like it's the first time?" He asks in a low whisper.

You nod your head as you close your eyes and let his lips touch yours. The kiss means fucking everything to Logan. His thumb brushes your cheek as he kisses you with ever ounce of love he still has deep in his heart. He knows that you aren't the same woman but fuck he just hopes you know that he's sorry that he wasn't enough. He hopes you know that he loves you.

You tug on his hair and Logan groans. His other hand resting on your back pulling you closer. He reluctantly pulls apart from you. Breathing heavily as he catches his breath. There's this silly smile on your face, one that always appeared after Logan kissed you no matter how much you tried to hide it. He missed it.

Logan. It's time.

He hears Charles in his head. His smile dropping as he realizes it's time to go. "I can go with you down to the lab." You offer as Logan stands up. He takes your hand and helps you up, leaning in to kiss your forehead gently.

"No, I should do this on my own." The truth is he knows that if you're down there he won't be able to go through that damn portal.

"Don't look so sad, You'll have your Logan back soon sweetheart." He wipes away a stray tear from your face.

"I know. It's just, hard to say goodbye." You take the flower from your hair and place it in his jacket pocket.

"Something to remember me by." You walk hand in hand back into the living room.

Logan takes one last look around the room. A strange sense of peace coming over him as everyone smiles and waves to him. It's not goodbye for them, but it is for him. But at least this time, he got to say the words. Logan lets go of your hand, sparing you one last look as he steps into the elevator. He can't bring himself to say anything. You know what he wants to say.

The elevator moves slowly as he heads down to the lab. Silently he steps out and heads towards the lab.

"Logan wait!" He freezes as he hears your voice.

"How did you-"

"The stairs. I took the stairs." You blurt out. He nods, standing there unsure of what to say.

"Can I ask you one question before you go?" You ask breathlessly. He nods. He can hear something happening in the lab, he doesn't have much time.

"In your universe, did you love me? Were we happy?" Maybe its an odd question. After all you just made out outside. But you don't know what this Logan had been through, if things were different or how different they were. You just needed to know. You always had a hunch your love was stronger than a simple timeline.

Logan takes a long look at you. Committing you to memory, so that now he can remember you like this. Smiling and happy and unafraid of who you are.

"I loved you more than anything sweetheart, I still do." With a soft smile you take one last look at Logan before returning back up the stairs. When Logan returns he'll be the man you knew before, but you don't think you'll ever forget this other Logan. Not for a long time.

"You ready Logan?" Hank asks as he hooks Logan up to a machine.

This was supposed to separate the two Logan's. He just prays it doesn't kill him. Logan closes his eyes. Similar to the feeling before he grunts as his cells seem to tear apart once again. Only this time when the pain stops he's back in his bloody suit. The other Logan is laying on the ground. Knocked out from whatever the hell Hank managed to do.

Before their very eyes an orange portal appears. They must have finally pinpointed the anomaly once the two had been separated. Before he steps through he turns around, nodding his head at Hank and then Charles.

"It was good to see you again Chuck, Thanks for everything." Logan says.

It feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest as he steps through the orange portal. In a flash he's at the TVA headquarters, standing in front of Wade.

"Peanut! There you are, oh I was worried sick." Wade jumps into his arms and Logan just drops him. Wade stands up and dusts himself off.

"We need to get you chipped or something. Maybe a bell to wear around your neck." Logan rolls his eyes and just follows the TVA agent in front of them.

"I went to a world where dogs could talk. What about you?" Wade asks as they're brought back home. Logan thinks for a moment. He sticks his hand in the pocket of his suit. His body freezing as he feels the soft petals of a flower.

"Hello? Earth to Wolvie? What having some emotional flashback to something only the readers know about?" Wade waves his hand in front of Logans face.

"I was thinking asshole." Logan shoves his hand away. Smiling as he tucks the flower deep in his pocket, deciding that he'll keep his adventure to himself for now.

"Anything you want to share with the class?" Wade asks. Logan just shakes his head.

"No, nothing worth mentioning."

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #worst!logan howlett x reader #worst logan #wolverine x reader #logan howlett angst

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nadvs · 10 months ago

Note

i have loved your work for some time now and you always outdone yourself with every new thing you write. im obsessed with the sleeping with the enemy blurbs🤍🤍

can i request rafe getting into a fight because he heard someone talking bad about reader and he goes to her dorm and she cleans him up and he doesn't confess what happened because she would mock him or something like that?

YOU’RE SO SWEET OH MY GOSH THANK YOU 😭 i loved writing the one-shot and i’m so pleasantly surprised and touched that so many readers like the au!! tysm i love this request!!

based on this fic

before he knows it, rafe’s knuckles are pulsating with a sharp ache. it all happened so fast.

he’s at a bar off campus. he’s painfully sober. his team lost at an embarrassing margin today. and then, he heard one of the guys who’s dating a girl on his team’s cheerleading squad shit-talking his best friend.

he called her an attention whore. said she purposely hikes up her skirt when she dances at games and will say yes to any guy who asks for ‘you know what’.

rafe knows the truth. this guy likely got caught looking at her by his girlfriend and is now overcompensating by saying how gross the hawks’ cheerleader is.

even though his words were bullshit, they were more than enough for rafe to start swinging. unfortunately, his victim had friends near by. they got a few punches in. then he got kicked out of the bar.

at this point, she’s the only person who can make him feel better. so, he’s knocking on her door soon after. he invited her out tonight, but she told him she’s staying in to study.

she gasps when she opens the door and sees him holding a red stained tissue up against his mouth.

“what the fuck…” she breathes. “are you okay?”

before he can answer, she pulls him in by the crook of his elbow and guides him to sit on her desk, pushing her textbooks away.

she lowers his hand, eyes worryingly searching his face.

“how much does it hurt?” she says with a wince.

“it’s not that bad,” he says. it’s true. the adrenaline hasn’t worn off yet, but he’s sure he’ll be bruised up and sore tomorrow. “but i fucked up my hand.”

she looks down at him flexing his hand. his knuckles are red and swollen. she holds his hand in hers, her skin warm and soft, and shakes her head.

“shit,” she whispers. “i’ll be right back.”

she rushes out to the bathroom and comes back with paper towels, some damp and some dry. then, she pours him some water from her mini-fridge and puts a bottle of painkillers beside him on the desk.

rafe watches her in awe as she scrambles to help. he’s not sure he’s ever had someone be this worried about him. this determined to make him feel better.

he keeps his hands on his lap as she leans forward, dabbing the damp paper against his skin.

“lay it on me,” she says quietly. “and spare no details.”

rafe already rehearsed this in the car. he hates to lie to her considering the fact that honesty is basically the cornerstone of their friendship. but repeating what that jackass at the bar said is a waste of breath. it’ll just hurt her. he can’t hurt her.

“some guy was talking shit about the game,” he fibs.

“sorry. it was a rough one tonight,” she says. “last thing you needed was that.”

he had a game at a college an hour away tonight, so she had a stream of it playing as she studied. she watches his games whenever she can.

rafe is an amazing player. she never followed or cared this much about the career of any athlete she dated. and she’s not even dating him.

“it was bullshit,” he mutters.

“it was,” she agrees. she slowly runs the dry paper towel over where she moistened his cheek. “how many times did they rebound foul? i actually lost count.”

“exactly,” he says.

“and if i’m out of line, fine,” she continues, “but what the hell was morrow doing? was he tired? he was practically handing them opportunities.”

rafe nods. he laid into eddie morrow, his team’s small forward, for his shitty defensive transitions tonight.

“he told me he had a bad sleep,” rafe scoffs.

“great excuse,” she breathes. she straightens, looking at his cleaned up face.

it gives him an opportunity to stare at her. she’s so casual about it all. how quickly she swept in to clean him up. how much she knows about the game he lives and breathes. how beautiful she is.

how could anyone say anything bad about this woman?

“you’re a little swollen but still pretty, for what it’s worth,” she says with a smile. “i just hope your hand’s okay in time for your next game.”

even if it isn’t, rafe knows that punching someone for shit-talking her was worth it.

“take one if you want,” she tells him, picking up the bottle of painkillers. “get ahead of the pain.”

he pops a painkiller and gulps down the water she poured him.

“you wanna hang out here while i study?” she asks. “my room is way more exciting than some bar.”

she’s being sarcastic, but honestly, hanging out with her does sound like more fun than going out.

“sure,” he says simply. he’s exhausted. and being here feels good.

throughout the evening, rafe lies on her bed, scrolling on his phone while she studies at her desk. every so often, they fall into easy conversation. but it’s no surprise. everything between them is so effortless.

eventually, he starts dozing off and is about to stand to leave, but she tells him he can just pass out in her bed.

as rafe falls into his slumber, smelling her on her pillow, he tiredly mumbles that he wishes he met her sooner. she turns to look at him in surprise, feeling butterflies over his words when she knows she shouldn’t feel that way about her friend. his eyes are already shut.

he falls asleep thinking about how good she smells. she continues to study thinking about how nice is to have him around.

#ask #swteblurb #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

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nonranghaes · 8 months ago

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heads up: plus size gn!reader who is also insecure! ... and also the dreaded dressing room.

vernon doesn't know how to talk to you. which... he thinks might make him a bad boyfriend sometimes. or, well, to be exact: he worries he's going to mess up when you need him the most. he knows how he should be talking to you. the two of you have discussed that in the past. but this oddly still feels new to him despite the fact it's almost been a year with you, and now he's overthinking a little too much as he sits outside the changing room in this store. he knows that this can be hard for you sometimes. and yet...

and yet he doesn't know how to tell you he thinks you're perfect no matter what you look like. as you are now, and however you'll look in the future, he loves you for you. he thinks there's sonnets in his head and in his heart, but the words get jumbled up before he can think to spin them aloud for you. so when you somberly return to him without anything, he thinks he should be saying something. anything. instead you barely look at him and go to leave the store, heading back into the mall with vernon a few steps behind as he tries to call out to you.

but when he finally catches up to pull you aside, he sees that you're fighting back tears. ah. one of those trips, then. he gets it: you've told him about this before, after all, and he knows how shit fashion sizes can be. so he just guides you somewhere quieter, and he lets you sulk as you need to, and he holds your hand.

"hey." his voice is soft, thumb tracing over your knuckles. you look up from the floor to finally meet his eyes, and he hopes his smile is enough to reassure you, even a little. "i think you're really cool."

and it's silly. but that's the way he first confessed his feelings for you: a flustered "i think you're really cool" followed by him finally asking if you wanted to go out sometime, but not as friends. you'd jokingly asked if this was his way of asking to be enemies (a defense mechanism, apparently: vernon's learned about that, too) before he said it outright that he really likes you. you smile back at him now, squeezing his hand tight.

"i think," you pause to sniffle, wiping away tears from the corners of your eyes. "i think you're really cool, too."

and it's not that three word phrase he feels in every beat of his heart when he looks at you, when he hears you laugh, when you smile at him... but it's pretty damn close right now. so he says it in a kiss to your temple instead, and hopes that you understand.

(the quiet thank you and kiss to his jaw says that you do.)

#nonranghaes.thoughts #nonranghaes.svt #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #svt imagine #seventeen x you #svt x you #seventeen fluff #seventeen drabbles #svt fluff #chwe vernon x reader #vernon x reader #vernon x you #vernon x y/n #chwe vernon fluff #chwe hansol x reader #chwe hansol fluff #vernon fluff

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sleepynoons · 4 months ago

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ooc!mydei x afab!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: oral (giving) + deepthroating, god kink + religious themes, brief master/lord kink, praise kink (giving), exhibitionism, mentions of blood/violence/conflict, edging (???)

notes: uh. i don't really have a good defense. i saw this fanart of mydei, saw his happy trail, and blanked out. i know it's 2025 and i strongly urge people to stop centering men in their lives, but, uh, well. uh. yeah. you call him a god. anyway, he's gonna be ooc, character- and lore-wise, bc i have no fucking clue what hoyoverse is going to do to him. anyway, love yourself, i do not actually have a god kink and am not religious at all in fact lolz, but yeah, enjoy my first drabble of 2025 LMFAO

IT DOESN'T take much to satisfy you. but this – your throat constricted around mydei’s cock, jaw slack and aching, nose nestled into his happy trail – is better than anything you could ever ask for.

you could care less about the cold tile underneath your bruised knees and shins. you don’t even waver at the sounds of people coming and going. all that matters is you’re full, and with another weak inhale through your nose, you feel your mind unravel a little more at the heady scent of mydei’s sweat and natural musk.

with a moan around his length, you glance up to gauge mydei’s reaction. except there isn’t one. in all his regality and majesty, he knows how to maintain stoicism and indifference, with an air of superiority. in front of others, he can’t look weak or swayed. what he does offer, though, is a slow blink, and you catch a glint of satisfaction in the glowing red and flickering gold in his irises.

if you could, you would croon in delight. but alas, you can’t respond with more than a swallow around his cock, and you concentrate on maneuvering your tongue around it, laving over throbbing veins and warming spots that you haven’t tasted in a moment’s time.

as a result, spit coats your chin and dribbles down onto the floor, dripping onto the cold tile along with the wetness that streams down the insides of your thighs. you’d really like to touch yourself, alleviate yourself of the emptiness below, but mydei has yet to give you his permission and you do not dare to defy him even in his silence.

as a way to distract your greedy hands, then, you rest your palms on his knees that are spread out on his throne and which cage your shuddering frame to him. had it not been for his affirmative gaze, you wouldn’t have known you were pleasuring him because his legs are grounded and still. and it’s true – it’s unimaginable that something could shake his body, honed through decades of fighting and battle to lunge and leap after spartan enemies and to withstand and hold against even the bloodiest of onslaughts. of course, then, that your pleasuring could barely affect him.

but you don’t wish to weaken mydei, to make him shuddering and trembling through your touch. your sole goal is to please him and make him feel good. after all, he doesn’t need to feel like he’s in heaven when he’s already ruling over his own paradise.

you’d argue that your devotion to him is stronger than his to his people. while that would ensue an interminable debate between the two of you, you know in your heart that you’re right.

but that train of thought is for another time, and your clouded mind can’t really muster a coherent argument as of now. so, you nuzzle your face deeper into his skin, basking in the warmth of his body and the slight pokes of his hair against your upper lip, and stretch yourself even more to accommodate his cock.

all you’d like to do is lose yourself completely, and only mydei can do that to you. he is your lord, master, god, and as someone so pious and loyal, nothing is more satisfying to you than praising and fully devoting yourself to him.

#honkai star rail #honkai sr #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail smut #hsr smut #mydei #hsr mydei #honkai star rail mydei #mydei hsr #mydei honkai star rail #mydei x reader #mydei smut #carrot cake!#house of solis occasum #nereids' realm

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thesummerstorms · 5 months ago

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Imagine a very tough surprise fight. I don't know the details, they're mostly unimportant. But it is a life or death type of encounter. Something that requires a mage's sustained effort to counter. Lucanis and Crow!Mage!Rook are caught off-guard

By the time it's over, Rook has used so much mana she's literally shaking with exhaustion. She goes to sheath her mage knife, but it takes effort to unwrap her fingers from the hilt. When she does, the crystalline blade falls to the floor, clattering. Her knees follow a few moments later, and her vision is swimming, head pounding.

Someone comes up behind her. Instantly, House de Riva's training kicks in; she reaches for the mage knife again. She fumbles. Her hands are still shaking.

But instead of a blade in her back, there's an arm around her shoulders, keeping her from slumping over entirely. Someone presses a flask into her hand, wraps their fingers over hers so she doesn't drop it.

"Drink the lyrium, Rook," Lucanis says sharply, almost scolding. If she were more cognizant, she'd recognize the edge to his voice, maybe as Spite, maybe as worry. As it is, she's too tired to think. Ignoring the little Viago protesting in the back of her head, she raises the potion to her lips.

Lucanis waits, still kneeling in the dirt beside her, still propping her up, even though it means he has to trust their other companion to watch their backs. It's quiet as they wait for the potion to take effect.

Rook almost lets her head drop to his shoulder. Almost.

Finally, when she no longer feels like the sky is pressing down on her, Rook manages to ask the question that's bothering her.

"Lucanis? You carry lyrium?"

Lucanis isn't even a mage.

No. But Lucanis is looking at her, flat and disbelieving, the way her teachers had sometimes when she was a Fledge, the way Viago still sometimes did.

"Of course I do," he says, in a tone that indicates he is graciously choosing to attribute her dullness to her exhaustion, "as a precaution."

The Demon of Vyrantium was a mage-killer, but Lucanis Dellamorte now works on a team full of mages. It's his job, generally speaking, to make sure those mages stay alive.

And maybe this mage in particular.

It's odd sometimes, how he suddenly catches himself almost grateful for Caterina's choice to force him into a specialty. Knowing just how to kill a mage, the moments when they bleed easiest, when they are slowest to defend, also means he knows exactly how to guard.

When the Venatori goes for the strike from behind in the moments when Rook has just cast a spell, when she can't quite raise her mana again fast enough, Lucanis is there, closing the gap in her defenses before the enemy can make use of it. There were more moments like that in this last fight than he'd care to remember, actually.

So of course he also carries lyrium. He thought that was obvious.

And his reward now is Rook's quiet laugh, the way blood smears across her cheek as she swipes her hand tiredly across her face, but her eyes once again seem bright.

"What would I do without you?"

#Arsinoë de Riva #rook x lucanis #rook de riva #Lucanis Dellamorte

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avelera · 5 months ago

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I feel like I don't have the spoons for this, nor the understanding of real-life PTSD enough to explore it, but I feel like it's worth examining Jayce's arc for signs of PTSD. Much has been made of the canonical mental illnesses and PTSD of characters like Jinx, and I've mentioned that I think Jayce might have generalized clinical anxiety, but I think it's worth looking at how much of his behavior might be PTSD related even before he goes to the Anomaly future.

Some possible places I'd look:

Jayce has been getting fed paranoia by Marcus and by the tension that is being deliberately ratcheted up by Silco and Jinx. Yes, he says awful, bigoted things to Viktor on the bridge, but it is worth pointing out that he's not saying this in a vacuum, there are people in proximity to him deliberately stoking his paranoia and that of the city for their own ends, literally Marcus is gaslighting him actively by telling him the Firelights are responsible and the best way to keep people safe is shut down the bridge.

The fight in the Shimmer Factory gets more wild to me every time I watch. Jayce should not be there for so many reasons but one of them is Jayce is not a fighter. I think his video game counterpart sort of obscures this, but unlike Vi who has spent her whole life fighting AND in prison for years, Jayce has never, ever wielded that hammer before. He didn't even have it until the day before! And suddenly he's up against the Shimmer-infused berserkers who are some of the toughest fighters in the whole show. He almost gets his head cut off, if not for features he built into the hammer like weightlessness and the shield, he'd be dead, and then he makes what I call the, "Jayce is Making Bad Decisions" Face (I need to make a gifset of this face btw, he makes it a couple times, also while resurrecting Viktor).

Ok I might make fun of the Jayce is Making Bad Decisions face, BUT on a serious note, it's clear the Fortiche animators are doing a superb job showing someone who has gone into "Adrenaline Mode". REAL fighters do not want adrenaline. Adrenaline fucks up your reaction times and makes you shaky and turns off your higher brain functions. I've been in a fight when fear adrenaline kicks in and you just start wildly swinging to get people away from you and that is exactly what happened when Jayce's face got scrunched up and he started shooting wildly, he just wanted to stop the threat because he's never fought before, unlike Vi. And then he kills a kid and the triumph of his first fight against an uncomplicated enemy just dies and btw, never returns except in that moment fighting more Shimmer berserkers and Renni but those are clear self defense and there's no triumph in it.

BRO gets HIT BY A ROCKET, has a pure panic response leaving living people who need his help in the chamber to save Viktor, and he doesn't go back as far as we know.

Ok so the things that me, as not an expert would be curious to note as possible PTSD responses would be:

Jayce not leaving the lab after the attack except 1) to go to the funeral (where he's attacked AGAIN) 2) to comfort Caitlyn after Mel basically tells him to, 3) to make weapons for Caitlyn's team specifically to keep a small group of people safe, not arm an entire army. Besides that, it looks like he spends all his time holed up in the lab, even after Viktor is gone, because that's his safe space and I think I read once that PTSD has a way of shrinking your world down to just the people and places you trust.

Dragging that hammer around with him in the Anomaly future. Look, Jayce is a city boy, he has no survival instincts, but it wasn't just a bad idea because it broke his leg, it was actively detrimental to his chances of survival because lugging an anvil around drained him of water and calories. Bro had a lot less chance of survival with it, but he thought he was surrounded by zombies (he wasn't, they're all dead and they're all controlled by Viktor, we learn he was never in danger, though I don't blame him for that). But that could also be a PTSD response, his actual emotional support hammer.

Clamming up and not talking to Mel about what happened because she's not in his circle of trust anymore, it's more or less shrunk down to just Viktor (once he can save him) and Cait, maybe.

Ok as usual this got longer than I intended by just... some things that are in my mind right now.

#jayce talis #arcane #arcane meta

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gamerwoo · 9 months ago

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Bang Chan: The Girl Who Didn't Cry Wolf (Part One)

Characters: Bang Chan x fem reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, enemies-to-lovers-ish??, slowburn, werewolf/alpha!chan, (werewolf)hunter!reader, angst, a tiny bit of fluff if u squint ig (chan takes care of reader's injuries), some humor toward the end, mentions of blood, violence, mentions that reader is from america and moved to korea, reader doesn't know korean [dialogue in bold is meant to be korean]

Word count: 4,317

Summary: You've learned to do whatever you can to protect yourself after an incident almost a decade ago had your father and brother dragging you to a new country to start all over even though they blamed you for what happened. After finding yourself stuck in a house of werewolves, you're forced to come to terms with your feelings over what happened back home when the alpha imprints on you and his pack claims they're keeping you prisoner. You know exactly how this will end if you give in, and yet you can't seem to get yourself to leave the sweet and charming werewolf who's willing to do anything to make you comfortable. You're just hoping that maybe there'll be a good end this time.

a/n: this is a part of the TftP universe, which is a Seventeen series!! if you haven't read that, some of this series might not make a lot of sense, but it can still be read on it's own! :) [if you do read TftP: this series also takes place after the events of Jeonghan's part, which is currently still ongoing]

Next | TGWDCW Masterlist

Your face was scratched up, your arms were sore from trying to push the werewolf off of you, and you were pretty sure the warm liquid dripping down your chin and onto your chest was blood, but you couldn’t tell where you were bleeding from. You limped your way through the forest, glad to have subdued the werewolf long enough to get away. You were out getting berries when you were attacked, so you only had the tiny pocket knife on you for defense. God, your family was going to have your ass for sure for not being prepared for this.

But you were currently not going toward town, you were going away from it. You just needed a place to hideout and patch up. Maybe you’d look a little better in the morning and your father wouldn’t berate you as hard as he would seeing you in your current state. How could a hunter not be prepared for a werewolf attack? That was the first thing your parents had warned you about when you started hunting alone. They let you in on the fact that werewolves weren’t just mythical monsters made up to scare kids into being good lest they be dragged off into the woods and eaten by one. But that was something you needed to know if you were going to go out hunting. You had to be aware of every creature – mythical or otherwise – that was out there.

Were you a werewolf hunter? ...Sort of. But you still were supposed to be ready to fight back if one attacked. You kept 3 silver bullets on you at all times, and yet…

The house you saw pulled you from your thoughts. It was made out of tree logs and seemed fairly big but not so big that it looked odd for it to be here in the small clearing. It seemed cozy and all of the lights were off, so you figured it must be abandoned. Who in their right mind would live out in the middle of a forest anyway?

You dragged your bum leg toward the house – you were pretty sure you twisted your ankle while running because you really had to prove you’re the worst hunter in the history of hunters that night – and in through an open window. That was a dead giveaway it was abandoned because nobody would just leave their window open like that.

The window brought you into a kitchen, specifically on top of a counter next to a sink. You slid down quietly and crouched down to your hands and knees. It was just precautionary and instinct to hide, so you crawled your way around the large kitchen table and out of the kitchen to a hallway. You saw a door wide open across the hall, seeing a sink and a toilet in there.

Jackpot. The bathroom has to have some medical supplies, right? Even if it was abandoned, maybe the people left some of their stuff there. Maybe they were eaten by bears so their belongings were left untouched. It was best to check for any sort of supplies just in case.

You carefully crawled your way over and through the door. Once inside, you closed the door silently and stood to look through the cabinet behind the mirror. Just as you hoped, there were bandages, peroxide, cotton balls, and other first aid things. You immediately got to work, cleaning off your face of the blood before tending to the small scrapes and cuts that had filled with dirt. You knew cleaning them would sting but it still made your teeth clench and sharply intake a breath.

A few seconds after the small noise you made, the bathroom door was flung open, making you gasp and leap toward the opposite wall. A younger looking guy – he could’ve been a teenager for all you knew – with fluffy brown hair stood in the doorway, dressed in a baggy white t-shirt and some loose shorts. His angry, golden eyes slowly shifted to red as he glared at you, and you knew you really fucked yourself over now.

“Shit…” you cursed under your breath, your hand fumbling in your pocket for the only small weapon you had.

Before you could even wrap your fingers around it, the wolf lunged at you, bringing you down to the tiled floor with a thud as your head hit the cool tiles. It hurt but thankfully it wasn’t enough to disorient you. The wolf’s claws grew, pinching at the skin of your arms. You lifted one foot in the space between you and kicked against his abdomen, throwing him off of you. In the process of him being flung away, his claws scraped against your biceps, making you wince slightly. It wasn’t anything too bad but it definitely broke skin. You quickly pushed yourself up and raced to get out of the bathroom, leaping over the wolf on the ground.

Just as you had jumped over him and ran to the open door, he grabbed your bad ankle and tugged you down onto the floor, landing on your stomach but catching yourself with your hands. He dragged you back to him as you tried to dig your nails into the hardwood floor. You knew this is how you would die but you were going to fight the whole time. It’s what you were taught to do.

He roughly flipped you over and straddled you. You punched him straight in his cheek with all the strength you could muster, but you knew your strength was nothing against a werewolf.

He let out a loud growl that had you cowering for a moment. He took that opportunity to claw roughly into your left side, making you cry out in pain now. But he apparently didn’t like how loud you were because he pinned your wrists above your head, and leaned down with his fangs extended, roaring in your face. The sight sent a chill down your spine, and tears pricked your eyes when he dipped his head down to your neck, mouth open wide and fangs extended.

You knew this was it. You had no way to fight back or run away. You weren’t strong enough in this state, and you didn’t have any weapons to help you. In a case like this, it was better to just have a quick death over one that was drawn out.

You squeezed your eyes closed and braced for the end, requesting through clenched teeth, “Just make it quick.”

You knew you had no way to fight back or to run away. This was it. All you could do was wait until it was over. You weren’t backing out of this. You never backed down, and even if you were facing death, it would be no different. The last thing you were doing was dying a coward.

But his weight was suddenly lifted off you, and you heard him hit the wall with a crash. Your eyes flew open to see a man a few inches shorter than the wolf towering over you, but his back was to you and his stance was protective. A wild, defensive growl ripped through his chest, the warning aimed at the wolf that was on you. He turned his head just enough to look back at you before his focus was in front of him again.

When your eyes met, that was when you felt it. The draw that you were told about by your father when he was telling you all about werewolves. He said both parties would feel it, but it was stronger for the wolf. For both, it was almost instantaneous as soon as their eyes landed on their mate. And you felt exactly that.

It felt like being in love, but it was like it was all at once instead of falling slowly. It hit you like a train instead of floating down a river. It felt…exactly like–

“Seungmin. Don’t,” the man’s voice was a low rumble that pulled you from your thoughts and had your blood turning to ice. The threatening tone to it was enough to make a grown man run for the hills, but you were frozen in place, trying to make sense of it all.

You didn’t even notice the other wolves that had rushed down the stairs to see the commotion, golden eyes going from your attacker, to your...mate, to you.

“Chan?” a new voice asked, their deep voice gravely from sleep full of concern. “Did you…?”

He had. He had imprinted on you. A werewolf-hunter-in-training was now the mate of a werewolf.

The stunned silence that followed was short lived when the front door a few yards behind you slammed open, and a familiar, beaten body dragged himself through the door. His golden eyes landed on you before turning red and narrowing.

It was the wolf you had just fought and gotten away from. This was just your shitty luck.

“Minho?” one of the wolves from the stairs recognized him. "Where the hell have you been? It's late."

His eyes just stayed glued on your body on the floor, “You?”

Despite the fact the situation could probably only be made worse by you opening your big mouth, especially when you didn't really understand the language they were speaking, you spoke up against your better judgement, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You were literally carried to your mate’s room, kicking and screaming despite the fact your body was screaming back at you to stop. Your injuries were burning with intensity, and you were sure you were bleeding all over your mate’s naked torso – especially from the cuts in your side. He didn’t seem to care, so neither did you. Then again, you wouldn’t care even if he did fuss about it.

“Put me down!” you demanded, slamming your fists into his bare back. “I’m not going to be your captive!”

The little Korean you knew wasn’t going to help you in this scenario. Your family had moved to Korea about half a decade ago after a freak accident involving the death of your mother, but you didn't pick up on a ton of the language since you didn't interact with other humans that often – speaking wasn’t necessarily important for your line of work. Instead, there were a few words and conversational phrases that you had picked up on in town or from other hunters – mostly about hunting, trading, and buying.

“So you want to go home and get humiliated by your family in front of the rest of the town? Maybe even worse for all I know,” he questioned, though the last part was a bit softer. His voice wasn’t as menacing as it was when he faced his pack brother but he was still definitely annoyed. “Believe me, I don’t find this situation ideal, but I have to protect you. It’s instinct. We both know it.”

You were too stunned to say anything for a moment. You didn’t expect him to respond, let alone understand you. But he replied in perfect English with a thick accent you didn’t recognize. Not many foreigners had moved to your country since before The War, but the numbers had only gone down even more afterwards. Even other Americans had moved away after The War, but your family stayed until grief struck.

“Th-Then–” you slowly began, finally remembering you had to say something otherwise he would win the argument. “Then I’ll run away.”

“I’ll just come find you and bring you back,” he promised with a chuckle. It was weird to you how your heart fluttered at his promise. It was something that never happened before. “No matter how many times you try to escape, I’ll always find you. You know that.”

He finally set you down, but it was on a bed. Once the blood rushed away from your head, you noticed that there were a few curious wolves standing by the open door. Your mate paid them no attention as he went to a corner of his room in search of something.

“Felix,” his voice was sure, like he already knew the person in question was there.

Sure enough, a thinner wolf with blonde hair that flared out around the back of his neck stepped forward. “Yeah?”

“Could you get the bandages and a towel? Jisung, you and Jeongin go collect the herbs, please,” Chan’s voice was soft as he walked over to you with a very large t-shirt. He placed it on the bed beside you and mumbled for you to change before he went over to address his packmates at the door. “The rest of you need to give her space unless you want the angry hunter on your ass.”

He seemed to be over his anger toward the other wolf who attacked you – Seungmin, apparently. And you were also surprised to hear him address another one of the pack in English.

So maybe Seungmin had understood you before.

“Chan, I’m concerned,” one of them spoke up. “Seungmin and Minho–”

“Keep them as far away from this room as possible,” the alpha stated urgently. “You know how they are, and the last thing I need is another fight. They’ll both take their grudges to the grave.”

“Why was she in here?” another asked, glancing at you from behind the alpha.

Chan just moved to block his view, “Considering I haven’t gotten the chance to ask her after Minho came running at her, I wouldn’t know.”

While Chan spoke to his pack, you took the time to really look at him, and you noticed something about him. Other than the obvious things like his good looks, chiseled jaw, and perfectly carved torso, you took note of various scars that scattered seemingly his entire body. They all seemed to be healed, but there were just so many of them. He had a handful on his face and even more littering his torso, arms, and hands. You saw about half as many on his legs, just off of what you could see from his shorts that were low on his hips. You wondered just what kind of trouble this guy got himself into on a daily basis to have that many scars.

The first one that spoke sighed and ran a hand through his black hair that was messy from sleep. “Alright well...we’ll leave you to it. Let us know if you need anything.”

Chan sighed as well and nodded, his voice softening. “Thank you guys. It means a lot.”

He softly closed the door and turned to look at you, his eyebrows scrunching together when he saw you, “You didn’t change clothes?”

You looked at the shirt he set beside you as if you were looking at food you found disgusting, “Am I supposed to?”

“Yeah, that’s kind of why I got it for you.”

A knock on the door had him turning away from you again – not before he caught you rolling your eyes – but he called over his shoulder for you to at least remove the bloodied and torn shirt. His broad frame blocked the door from the blonde wolf that had gotten the medical supplies to take care of you, so you peeled the shirt that was stuck to you with sweat, and both wet and dried blood off of you, leaving you in your bra, and beaten and dirty leather pants. Chan closed the door with the supplies in his arms, turning to face you again. You noticed something glint in his golden eyes, almost like they were shifting for a second, but the change was too quick to notice. They were the same gold when he knelt down in front of you, only worry was showing clear in them.

“It’s pretty deep…” he murmured as he examined the large claw marks that tore across your side. “How’s your ankle?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “My ankle?”

“I know it’s injured, you couldn’t even get away from Seungmin,” he chuckled, beginning to mix various herbs together in a bowl. “I’m Chan, by the way. Or Chris, if you want. What’s your name?”

You stayed silent, not even looking at him. Instead, you looked at a spot on the bed to your right, looking away from your wound.

Chan noticed your silence, looked up at you and let out a playful sigh, “Nothing? You don’t have a name?”

“Why would I tell you that?” you quizzed, still not looking at him. “Ever heard of ‘stranger danger’? Or do you not encounter that since you live in the woods and only talk to squirrels or something?”

He chuckled, “Is that what you think we do all day? Stay in the middle of nowhere and talk to squirrels?”

“You realize we’re enemies, right?” you pointed out to him suddenly, finally looking down at him. “Why do you even think I’d let you know any personal information?”

“Because I know you feel it, too,” he informed you in a gentle tone, his eyes soft like he was trying to comfort you. “And I know you want to be stubborn about it because of instincts and whatever, but the very least you can do for me is tell me your name to make it slightly easier.”

“Nothing about this mating thing is easy! We’re opposites; we’re supposed to be killing each other but you’re treating my wounds and saving me from your pack – one of which I tried to kill!”

Which was true. Maybe he was nice, sure, but that didn’t mean anything when you had been training for almost a decade to kill his kind and had been force fed all of these narratives that told you you had to hate him and his pack, regardless of if he had saved you from death and was now treating your wounds. You came from a family that would kill them and you if they found out you showed any sort of kindness toward them.

You were missing. The realization suddenly hit you that you wouldn’t be returning home anytime soon, and your father and brother would both get worried and come looking for you. And if they found you, the first thing they’d do is kill every last wolf in this house.

…Why did that thought hurt as much as it did…?

“That’s how this works,” he sighed, sounding and looking tired, pulling you from your thoughts once again. “Do you think I’m happy about this? I’m not. But I can’t fight the instinct to protect my mate, okay? So this is just how it’s gonna be, and, as level-headed as I want to be so I don’t make it worse for you, I suggest you don’t test me.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “Yeah, whatever. You’re not that scary.”

The low growl resonated in his chest, but it only made you laugh as you looked down at him. He continued to just stare back before he went back to mixing medicine to help your wound, dropping the mating subject, but picking back up on your name, “So, who are you, hunter? I told you my name so it’s only fair you tell me yours.”

You sat back on your hands, letting out a deep sigh and speaking as you let it out, “_____. It’s _____. Happy?”

It was his turn to smile now, glancing up at you through dark lashes as dimples appeared on his cheeks, “Very.”

It was only then that you had realized the door had opened with two wolves holding clear jars of various plants and herbs. Both of them just stood in the doorway, looking uncomfortable at best.

“Um…” one of them with round cheeks and shaggy brown hair spoke up timidly, “i-is this a bad time?”

Chan was half-surprised to find the entire pack still awake, gathered downstairs in the cramped kitchen. And of course, the topic of conversation was you and their alpha. Jeongin and Jisung, who had mixed up the herbs to help heal your wounds, were giving out all of the information they had gathered from the few minutes they were in the room.

The pack had moved to a tiny cabin quite a few miles away, but they had recently decided to move back to their cozy little hole under the giant tree due to lack of space at this new place they’d found. They were still in the process of packing up to move back to said tree, but they now assumed plans would change since you had quite literally crawled into the picture.

All eyes darted to Chan as he walked in, carding a hand through his hair.

“Is the menace finally asleep?” Minho asked, venom in his voice as he tended to his cut-up arm.

“Yeah, I had Jisung mix something up to get her to sleep,” Chan breathed. His thoughts were running at a million miles an hour but he was trying to hold himself together in front of you despite his own confusion, and conflicting emotions and instincts. “I figured if I helped with the pain myself it might freak her out, and she’s already been through a lot tonight.”

“Her?” Seungmin spat, icing his cheek as he sat in a chair opposite Minho at the table. “I wake up to go pee just to see some hunter in our bathroom! And she’s got a fucking right hook, let me tell you.”

“It’s not like she broke your jaw,” Jeongin reminded him, rolling his eyes. "You're not even gonna bruise."

Seungmin shot him a dirty look and opened his mouth to snap back, but Changbin was faster to speak.

“What’re we supposed to do now, by the way?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin looked almost scared, “this is the first time we’ve…had…a mate in the house. What happens next?”

Jisung snorted, elbowing his brother in the upper arm, “What, are you afraid of girls?”

“No!” Hyunjin glared at him. “We’ve just never had a mate here before! I’d be confused no matter the gender!”

“I meant,” Changbin interrupted, “with moving, taking care of her, sleeping situations – stuff like that.”

“Well, moving is obviously on pause,” Chan sighed, rubbing his hands over his face as he tried to organize his thoughts.

Changbin was right, there was a lot to consider now. You were taking Chan’s bedroom, but he was sharing a room with Felix, which meant they both had nowhere to sleep now. There was also the matter of sharing a bathroom, but that was a bridge they’d cross when they got to it, he figured.

“Um…any way Felix can crash with one of you guys?” he asked once he’d removed his hands from his face. “I’ll just take the couch.”

Minho gave him an incredulous look, “No!” his exclamation sounded almost like a question – a very loud question. “You think we can cram a fourth person in either of our rooms?!”

The house was small, and Chan knew it was already a tight squeeze fitting three grown werewolves to one bedroom. Him and Felix were the only paired roommates just because their bedroom was the smallest. The other two bedrooms weren’t much bigger, but he had to figure out something for Felix.

Jisung could tell Chan was obviously stressed, so he quickly spoke up, “W-we can make it work, though. Don’t worry about it.”

Minho’s head whipped around to look at him like he was insane, “How?!”

The younger wolf shrugged, “We could…share beds?”

Minho’s face was quickly transformed into a smirk as he leaned over in his chair, looking up at Jisung, “You just want an excuse to sleep in my bed.”

“I–”

“I accept.”

Felix made a face as he eyed the two, “I think I’d rather crash in Seungmin’s room.”

“I don’t care who sleeps where or with who,” Chan stated, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Everyone just please go to bed now.”

“I mean this in the nicest way possible,” Jeongin began, “but how are we supposed to sleep with her in the house?”

“She is a werewolf hunter,” Felix agreed a bit timidly, not wanting to upset the alpha more than he already was, but he was wary about having you in the same house as them – especially with how small the space was. “Doesn’t that make her our enemy? I don’t want to sound mean, but…she could…kill all of us in our sleep.”

For the nth time that night, Chan let out a deep sigh, “I mean…technically, no. I barely sense any werewolf hunter on her, so she’s not a huge threat. But…she’s definitely trained to be one, I won’t lie. Still, I don’t think she’s a threat to us.”

“Oh, so we’re just supposed to trust her based on vibes?” Seungmin spat.

“She has the training of a werewolf hunter but do any of you even sense werewolf hunter?” he countered. “But…yes, you’re right. She’s not really an ally either. She definitely knows she shouldn’t feel…how she does toward me.”

The room was silent as Chan’s emotions seemed to finally weigh down on them. They could really see the hurt in his eyes when he said that, and despite how angry or nervous they might’ve been, they felt bad for their alpha. They knew what being denied by your mate could do to a werewolf, so not only could they not even imagine the heartbreak he was feeling, but they feared for his health and his life.

“So…” Minho spoke up slowly, “what you’re saying is…I could maybe take her in a rematch?”

A few of them chuckled, and the room felt lighter again. Even Chan cracked a smile and felt thankful for his snarky brother for at least getting him to do that.

“Just go to bed.”

»»————-　　————-««

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