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delulustateofmind · 1 day ago

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Long Distance

Who needs tinder when you have Minecraft?

Gojo x Reader based on this blurb : The full fic has arrived!

CW: Fluff! Language barrier (frequent use of Japanese), Reader and Gojo mid to late twenties. No Curse AU!

WC: 4.5k

There will be a part two :)

The cheerful theme music filled your small bedroom as you fumbled to finalize your online membership. Satoru’s voice drifted through the call, light and playful as he hummed an unfamiliar tune. Occasionally, you heard the rhythmic tapping of what you assumed was his controller.

“Okay,” you said finally, exhaling in relief. “I’m ready!”

“Good, good,” he replied, the grin in his voice unmistakable. After a brief pause, he added, “Your island name… ah, what is it?”

You froze. Of course, he’d ask. “Um… it’s kinda… embarrassing.”

“Tell me, tell me,” he urged, his enthusiasm relentless, his tone laced with teasing curiosity.

You sighed, your cheeks already warming as you muttered, “It’s… UwU Island…”

Even saying it aloud felt like a mistake, but you gave it your best shot, dragging out the soft syllables of ‘UwU.’

The line went silent for a moment, and then his laughter spilled through the call—soft, melodic, and unrestrained, like he couldn’t help himself.

“That’s so cute!” he said between chuckles, his voice bright with delight. “Ah, y/n wa hontou ni kawaii.”

You blinked, heat rushing to your face. Maybe you should’ve paid more attention to those Japanese college courses. “What—what did you just say?”

“Hm?” he hummed innocently, the faint smirk in his voice making you want to crawl under your blanket. “Ah… you are… cute. Your island name is cute too.”

“Oh my god, stop,” you groaned, covering your face even though he couldn’t see you. “Okay, what’s your island name then, huh?”

“Mine?” His tone turned smug, like he’d been waiting for you to ask. “ファイル島. Uh… I don’t know the English name, but from Digimon!”

You couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Of course it is. How predictable.”

“Eh? Predictable?” he repeated, his English faltering just enough to give him pause. “What is… ah… how to say…? Hmm. It’s ‘basic,’ yes?”

You hesitated, not wanting to discourage him. “Not basic—just… expected. It suits you.”

“Ah,” he said again, the sound lingering. Then, in a softer voice, “That’s good, then.”

As the game connected your consoles, you leaned back, watching the familiar animation of a plane flying over an island. His island came into view, and your jaw dropped. Rows of meticulously arranged flowers, paved pathways, and an enormous mansion sitting proudly atop a hill—all of it screamed someone who had poured countless hours into perfecting every little detail.

“Satoru,” you began slowly, leaning closer to the screen, “have you… been playing this game nonstop or something? How does your island look so perfect?”

A low chuckle met your question. “I am… ah, how to say… good at games?” he teased, his words halting but clear. “Minecraft, Animal Crossing… everything.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “Right, of course. Modest too, huh?”

“Modest?” He paused, the unfamiliar word hanging in the air before you heard typing on his end. A soft laugh followed. “Ah… 謙虚な? I’m not… that.”

“No kidding,” you muttered under your breath, though the grin on your face betrayed you.

When the connection finalized, his avatar was waiting at the airport—a white-haired, blue-eyed character that seemed like a playful nod to his Discord name: Blue Eyes White Dragon. He waved enthusiastically before typing in the in-game chat:

WELCOME!

“Welcome!” he echoed aloud, his voice brimming with excitement. “Come, come! I show you… ah…” He trailed off, searching for the word. “Ah, what is it? 見せる… show you around?”

“Tour,” you supplied gently.

“Yes! Tour.”

The hesitation in his English didn’t seem to bother him, though his occasional lapses into Japanese made it clear he wasn’t entirely confident. Still, he seemed to enjoy the back-and-forth.

If you even attempted Japanese, though, he’d switch to English immediately, laughing softly as he teased, “Your Japanese… hmmm… too formal for friends! I help you later with that… okay?”

The teasing lilt in his voice sent a flurry of butterflies through your chest.

You followed his avatar as he led you around his island, pointing out every detail with pride. When his English faltered, he filled in the gaps with Japanese, his voice flowing smoothly in his native tongue.

“This garden… I made. Ah, for flowers,” he said, before switching seamlessly to Japanese. “この部分は少し難しかったけど、ちゃんとできたね。あっ、どう思う？”

You caught enough of what he said—something about it being hard but worth it. “It’s beautiful,” you replied sincerely.

A pleased sound escaped him, and he moved on to show you a beachside café and a Zen garden tucked into a quiet corner of the island. When you reached the mansion, he stopped in front of the doors, his avatar turning to face yours.

“This… my house,” he said, pride evident in his tone. “You… want to see?”

“Yes!” you answered without hesitation.

Inside, the rooms were breathtaking. A library with towering shelves, a cozy game room, even a small café—it was all so thoughtful, so detailed.

“This is amazing,” you said, your voice almost reverent. “You’re ridiculously good at this.”

“Of course,” he replied, the grin in his tone unmistakable. “You… like it?”

“I love it,” you admitted, warmth creeping into your words. “Way better than my little cottage.”

He laughed, soft and genuine. “Then… I help. Build your island. Together.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the offer, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much. “Together?” you echoed, trying to sound neutral, though your chest tightened at the word.

“Yes,” he said firmly, his voice quieter now, almost shy. “Together. Your island… will be… beautiful.”

The rest of the session passed in a blur of laughter and shared moments, his enthusiasm infectious.

When it was time to log off, his voice softened.

“ありがとう,” he said, switching to Japanese briefly before catching himself. “Ah, thank you. Today… was fun.”

“Yeah,” you replied, leaning back in your chair, your smile lingering. “Thank you too. I had a great time.”

A quiet pause hung between you, thick with something unspoken.

“Tomorrow?” he asked, his voice tentative.

Your smile faltered slightly. “I have work tomorrow… the time zone difference will be rough.”

“Ah…” His tone dipped in disappointment before brightening again. “Maybe… we video call tomorrow? I would like… to, um… see you!” His voice was bright but tinged with shyness. “I have work too… so it will have to be short…”

You agreed, wishing him a good rest of his night. As the call ended, you flopped onto your bed, rolling over and squealing into your pillow.

Why did he have to be so cute?

This was just a little crush, wasn’t it?

The next day at work was a blur. Your usual tasks felt sluggish, your mind preoccupied with thoughts of the previous night. Every time you remembered Satoru’s laugh or his teasing tone, your cheeks warmed. And the way he had shyly asked to video call? It made your heart flutter in a way you didn’t quite want to admit.

By the time your shift ended, you were practically vibrating with anticipation. The first thing you did when you got home was toss your bag aside, throw on something comfortable, and grab your phone. Sure enough, there was a Discord notification waiting for you.

青眼の白龍: “Ready when you are! 💙”

You swallowed, your fingers hovering over the keyboard before typing back:

“Give me 5 mins! Just got home!”

Five minutes turned into ten as you paced back and forth, trying to calm your nerves. It’s just a casual video call, nothing to freak out about, right? But the what-ifs kept creeping in. What if he didn’t like the way you looked? What if… he wasn’t what you expected? What if it made things awkward?

The familiar Discord ringtone snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. Taking a deep breath, you hit accept.

The screen flickered to life, and there he was.

White hair messily swept back, striking electric blue eyes behind thin, round glasses, and a playful smirk tugging at his lips. He looked just like his avatar—or maybe his avatar looked like him.

“Hello, y/n,” he greeted, his voice softer than usual, almost as if testing the waters. “Nice to… see you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how casually handsome he was. “H-Hi! Wow, um…” You cleared your throat, trying to collect yourself. “It’s nice to see you too. You look… different than I expected.”

“Oh?” His smirk widened, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Good different? Or bad?”

“Good!” you blurted, a little too quickly. “I mean… definitely good.”

He chuckled, resting his chin in his hand as he tilted his head slightly. “You’re… cute.”

The compliment hit you like a bolt of lightning, sending your thoughts scrambling. Some part of you—some insecurity—immediately questioned it. Did he mean it? You’d just come off work; you had to look exhausted.

“Ah… thank you,” you said hesitantly, your eyes darting away from the screen.

“You look… tired,” he continued, his tone soft, almost curious. “I… never asked.” His brows furrowed slightly as he seemed to search for his next words. “What do you do? Office work?”

You hummed for a moment, trying to compose yourself. Tilting your head with a slight laugh, you replied, “No, I teach children. Uh… third grade, so little ones.” You gestured with your hands, mimicking their small size.

His bright blue eyes lit up with excitement, his voice rising in response. “I teach too! Mmm, not little ones but university!”

You froze for a second, processing his words. He’s a professor? He seemed so young for that. The thought triggered a flicker of doubt in the back of your mind—echoing a coworker’s warning about being cautious online. What if he’s not who he says he is? What if this is all some elaborate lie?

You shook off the thought, scolding yourself internally. What’s up with these thoughts today?

“That’s… impressive,” you said after a pause, leaning closer to the screen, curiosity gleaming in your eyes. “What do you teach?”

“Ah… Astrophysics,” he replied, the grin on his face widening as if he could already sense your surprise. His tone was casual, but there was a quiet pride behind his words. “It’s fun. Students… sometimes annoying, but fun.”

You blinked, letting the word sink in. “Astrophysics?” you repeated, half in disbelief. “That sounds… intense.”

He tilted his head slightly, searching for the right word. “Ah… not so bad. Maybe, uh… easier for me? For others… I think, hard.” He paused, frowning slightly. “Did that… make sense?”

“Yes,” you reassured him with a laugh. “You’re saying it’s easier for you than for most people?”

He nodded, his frown disappearing as his smirk returned. “Yes, that! See? You are good teacher. You understand me fast.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “That’s because you’re easy to read. Astrophysics though? That’s still way more impressive than wrangling a room full of third graders.”

He chuckled, leaning closer to the camera. “No, no. Little kids? Impossible for me. University students… sometimes annoying, but they don’t… ah… bite?” He paused, tilting his head as he searched for the word again. “Wait, they don’t, um… scratch?”

“Bite was right,” you said, a light laugh escaping your lips as you nodded.

“Ah, yes! Bite. Thank you,” he said, his smile softening. “So scary. I think… I fail with little ones.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you teased, relaxing further as the conversation flowed. “Third graders are like… mini tornados. Adorable, but absolute chaos.”

He laughed, a bright, genuine sound that made your cheeks warm. “Mini tornados? That is… cute. But I like my students. Less energy.”

Over the next hour, you found out more about him than you expected. He casually explained his academic background—bachelor’s, master’s, and PhD in just five years. The words rolled out naturally, though he occasionally paused to clarify a term or switch to Japanese when he couldn’t quite find the English equivalent.

“So… you’re twenty-eight and already a professor?” you asked, blinking at the screen.

He shrugged, brushing off the awe in your tone. “Yes. It is normal. I… uh…” He paused, struggling again before switching to Japanese. “早く進みすぎたかもしれないけど、まあ退屈だったし。”

Your Japanese wasn’t perfect, but you caught the gist of it—something about finishing quickly because he was bored. “Bored?” you echoed with a laugh. “Who gets bored earning a PhD?”

He grinned, his voice lilting with playfulness. “Me.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you teased.

“Ridiculous?” he repeated, testing the word slowly. “What is… ah… meaning?”

“It means silly. Like… unbelievable,” you explained.

“Ah… silly.” He chuckled. “Yes. I am silly.”

Before the call ended, Satoru leaned closer to the camera, his glasses slipping slightly as he gave you a wide-eyed look that was almost comically earnest.

“We call tomorrow, right? Same time?” he asked, his voice dipping into a softer tone. “Please? Or… at least Minecraft? I’ll wait.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his eagerness, though it warmed your chest. “Alright, alright. I’ll be there.”

For the next month, you and Satoru fell into a comfortable rhythm. Calls became part of your routine—sometimes to play Minecraft, other times just to talk. He continued to tease you, and you found yourself looking forward to his moments of stumbling English, where he’d pause, switch to Japanese, and glance at you expectantly, waiting for you to help bridge the gap.

One evening, as you both worked on a new Minecraft build, the sound of him mumbling softly in Japanese filled the quiet. You smiled, listening as his voice trailed off into focused silence.

“Ah… do you ever plan on visiting Japan?” he asked suddenly, breaking the calm. His tone was casual, though there was a hint of genuine curiosity beneath it. His attention seemed split between the game and your answer.

You paused, considering the question. “Honestly? I’d love to. It’s on my bucket list, but… it’s so far, and plane tickets aren’t exactly cheap.”

He hummed thoughtfully, his avatar stopping mid-movement on the screen. “Far, yes. But… worth it.” He paused again, switching to Japanese briefly. “とても素敵だから、一度は見てほしいね。あ、それに…” He switched back to English, stumbling slightly. “Ah, and if you come, I’ll… show you everything. Best ramen, best views… everything.”

Your heart gave a little flip at his sincerity, though you tried to keep your tone light. “That’s a big offer. What if I actually take you up on it?”

“I hope you do,” he replied smoothly, his grin audible even through the call. “But only if you bring… uh… snacks? From your country. I want to try.”

“Snacks?” you repeated, laughing. “They’d never survive the trip.”

“Then…” He paused, his voice dipping lower, softer. “You’ll have to bring yourself.”

Your breath caught, heat rising in your cheeks as you quickly turned your attention back to the game. “I’ll think about it,” you said lightly, though your heart was pounding.

He let out a soft laugh, the sound full of quiet amusement. “Good. I’ll wait.”

The rest of the session passed in easy conversation, but his words lingered long after you logged off.

As you lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, one thought kept replaying in your mind: maybe visiting Japan wasn’t such a far-fetched idea after all.

The next day at work, as you prepped for the day, your coworker perched herself on one of the desks, her coffee in hand. She watched you with mild curiosity as you snipped away at construction paper for an activity.

“Still talking to that Japanese guy?” she asked casually, though her tone carried the weight of unsolicited advice. “Honey, long distance doesn’t work. Especially with a twelve-hour difference…”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you focused on cutting out shapes. “It’s not like we’re dating or anything. He’s just… cute. Nice. Funny.”

Your coworker raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. And?”

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s… nice, you know? Having someone to look forward to talking to. It’s attention I didn’t know I missed.”

She barked a laugh, nearly spilling her coffee. “Wow, is this the same person who, like, a month ago said, ‘I don’t need a relationship. I have dating simulators for that’? So, what, is he your IRL dating sim?”

You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t help the sheepish grin tugging at your lips. “It’s not like that.”

“Sure,” she said, drawing the word out, her tone laced with teasing skepticism. Then her expression softened. “Listen, I get it. I really do. He sounds great, and I support you, but…” She hesitated, watching your hands pause mid-cut. “I also don’t want to see you get hurt, you know? Long distance is hard. And if he’s not serious…”

Her voice trailed off, leaving the unspoken warning hanging in the air.

You looked up, meeting her gaze, and gave a small, almost apologetic smile. “I know. It’s not like I’m expecting anything serious. It’s just… fun.”

Then, almost without thinking, you blurted, “I bought a plane ticket to Japan.”

Her coffee cup froze halfway to her lips. “You what?”

“I’m going over spring break,” you admitted, feeling yourself mumble through your words. “It was kind of impulsive…”

“Kind of?” she exclaimed, setting her coffee down on the desk. “Girl, you don’t even know this man in person! What if he’s not who he says he is? What if it’s weird? What if you don’t even like each other in real life?”

“I’ve thought about that!” you countered, though your defensive tone didn’t sound as convincing as you hoped. “We’ve been talking for a little over a month. He’s genuine. I feel like I know him, and it’s not like I’m staying with him or anything. I have my own hotel and everything planned.”

She stared at you for a long moment before letting out a resigned sigh. “Okay, you’re a grown adult. I can’t tell you what to do, but… just promise me you’ll be careful. Text me every day. Hell, drop your location, make sure someone knows where you are at all times.”

“I will,” you said quickly, eager to reassure her. “I’m not stupid.”

“Debatable,” she muttered under her breath, but the teasing smile on her face softened the blow.

You laughed, shaking your head as you went back to prepping your materials. Still, her words stayed with you, a small knot of doubt twisting in your stomach.

Later that evening, when Satoru’s name popped up on your screen, the nervous excitement came flooding back.

青眼の白龍: “Ready for tonight? 💙”

You hesitated for a moment before typing back.

“Actually… I need to tell you something.”

As the familiar Discord ringtone rang out, your nerves buzzed like live wires. You took a deep breath before hitting accept.

The screen flickered to life, and there he was—messy white hair, bright blue eyes, and that playful smirk you were starting to associate with comfort.

“Hello, y/n!” he greeted cheerfully, his voice as warm and inviting as always. “You look… nervous. Hmm?”

You let out a shaky laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Maybe a little.”

His brow furrowed, and he leaned closer to the camera, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “Why? Bad day? Tell me.”

“Not a bad day,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Just… something on my mind.”

He tilted his head slightly, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “Ah… what is it?”

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your desk. “I, um… I bought a plane ticket.”

There was a beat of silence. His avatar in Minecraft froze on the screen as you waited for his reaction. Then, he blinked, his lips parting in surprise.

“Plane ticket?” he repeated slowly, his English halting as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly. “Where…? Why?”

“To Japan,” you said, feeling your cheeks heat as you blurted it out. “Over spring break. I thought… maybe…”

His eyes widened, the smirk completely wiped off his face as his expression shifted to something closer to astonishment. “Wait. Really?” His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat. “You… you come here?”

You nodded, your heart hammering in your chest. “Yeah. It was kind of impulsive, but… I figured if I don’t do it now, I might never get the chance.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, as if trying to process the information. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face—wide and unrestrained, the kind of grin that made your stomach flip.

“You’re serious,” he said, switching to Japanese as he leaned back in his chair. “本当に来るの？信じられない…”

“Yeah,” you said softly, catching the gist of his words. “I mean it. I’m coming.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his grin still plastered across his face. “I don’t… I don’t know what to say. I’m… happy. Excited. Ah, I should… plan something! Show you Japan! But…” He hesitated, his brow furrowing. “Is it okay? I mean, for you? It’s… far.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, smiling. “I’ve always wanted to visit. And… I want to meet you.”

His grin softened into something warmer, something more vulnerable. “I want to meet you too.”

For the rest of the evening, the conversation shifted to plans for your trip. Satoru’s excitement was contagious as he rattled off a list of places he wanted to take you—shrines, ramen shops, hidden cafes, and even the university where he taught. Occasionally, his words stumbled, and he’d switch to Japanese, laughing at himself before you helped fill in the gaps.

“Ah, your Japanese…” he teased at one point, his avatar running playful circles around yours in the game. “Still too formal. I teach you, okay? When you’re here, you’ll sound like a local.”

You laughed, about to fire back with a joke, but Satoru suddenly interrupted, his excitement bubbling over.

“Ah! I will send you a list of hotels,” he said quickly, his words coming out in a rush. “Uh… my family owns a few. Really good! Safe areas too! And… and send me your dates. I will take time off… mmm, and send me—”

“Satoru,” you interrupted gently, your laughter spilling through the call as you tried to slow him down. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

He paused, his avatar freezing on the screen as if to mimic his momentary loss for words. Then, after a beat, he let out a soft chuckle, his voice quieter now. “I’m just… excited.”

“I can tell,” you teased, the warmth in your tone making him laugh again.

“Sorry,” he said, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. “I can’t help it. I’ve never…” He trailed off, his words faltering before he switched to Japanese. “こういうのって初めてだから…すごく楽しみで。”

You caught most of it—something about this being a first for him and how excited he was—and your chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?” he said, switching back to English, though his words were slower, more careful now. “Send me… things you want to do. I’ll reserve it for you. Japanese residents… we get early slots for some things.”

“Okay,” you replied softly, your heart thudding in your chest.

There was a pause, the kind that felt heavier than it should, and then he spoke again.

“I can’t wait to see you, y/n,” he said, his voice steady but carrying a sense of vulnerability.

“I can’t wait to see you either,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess them.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the silence stretching just long enough to feel significant before he let out another soft laugh.

“Tomorrow,” he said finally, as if to reassure both of you.

“Tomorrow,” you repeated with a smile, and then the call ended.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo fluff

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ryescapades · 3 days ago

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ੈ‧₊༺ 1:43 am ༺‧₊ ੈ

characters: sakura haruka x gn!reader content: fluff a/n: methinks he doesn’t like to ask for it but he lowkey really enjoys listening to you talk so pls do yap to him abt wtv (he might start tweaking if u don’t) ≈ 800 wc

It’s peaceful, blissfully cold, and you’re soundly sleeping when you start to notice two things; something is vibrating, and it’s in the middle of the night.

Well, you assume it’s in the middle of the night since it’s still dark out and no trace of daylight is present at the moment. Not like you can think of anything else either, since you had just been woken up by the former of those aforementioned details.

Groggily and very much grumpily, your hand blindly searches for the source of the vibrating object which you had felt somewhere on the back of your thigh. Snippets of last night appear in your foggy mind, a small reminder of how you had accidentally fallen asleep while mindlessly scrolling through your phone before bed.

Finally managing to get the device in your hand, a low curse escapes from you as the beaming screen blinds your bleary eyes.

‘sakura <3’, the name on the screen reads.

Your eyebrows furrow, confusion evident on your face but you slide a thumb across the screen to answer the call anyway. “Sakura…?”

Across the static line between you two, Sakura closes his eyes as he relishes in the sound of your voice, albeit a little raspy from sleep. Too lost in the familiarity of it, he almost forgets that he hasn’t replied yet.

“Ah - hey...” he greets, slightly embarrassed that he doesn’t have anything thought up to say.

Sakura is by no means a frequent caller nor a texter— heck, he barely even touches the damn device he’s holding in his hand right now. But it’s past midnight. His body is tired, his mind can hardly keep up with how much he’s been thinking of you, and the next thing he knows, his fingers were already pulling up the number to your contact.

You’re no different than him, of course. Even in your sleepy haze, you can’t stop the onslaught of fluttering butterflies in your stomach just as his voice enters your ears, which unknowingly elicits a sigh from you, quiet and dreamy.

“Is everything alright? You never really contacted me unless it’s something important,” you ask worriedly, turning in bed as you try to get comfortable again under your blanket.

“’m fine, nothin’s wrong.”

“Oh, okay…” You trail off, unsure. “Uhm, is there anything you wanted to talk about?”

From where he’s sitting on the lone mattress in his home, blankets haphazardly tossed aside, Sakura taps his index finger repeatedly out of nervous tension. He feels stupid now; stupidly guilty that he had woken you up from your much needed slumber for - what?

What was he planning to say anyway? That this measly phone call was done out of pure impulse? That he had been kept awake all night because the only way he could fall asleep is when you’re there beside him? And that he’s been missing you all day?

He almost punched himself at how humiliatingly needy and deprived that sounds.

“No,” he opts instead, clenching his teeth as he reminds himself to ask any of his seniors for some good beating sparring tomorrow. Kaji, or Hiragi, preferably. Maybe then he could get this idiocy and cringiness punched out of him.

The line goes silent for a few moments. “Then why are you—” Your eyebrows furrow before realization sets in, a soft smile growing on your face. Blankets pulled up to your chin, you lay on your side as you let your phone get sandwiched between your cheek and the pillow.

“Actually, you wanna know what happened earlier today?”

Your boyfriend perks up at that, silvery and golden orbs gleaming in the dark room. He hums in affirmation, and that’s all you need before you start telling him about your day; all the littlest and most random things you found, all the people you’ve met, everything and nothing. Your voice, mellow and soothing, courses through him like a wave gently lapping up the shore, harmonious in its ebbing tide.

Aside from the few replies of acknowledgment, Sakura listens, listens and just listens. He’s carving a special place for your voice at the very front of his mind. Every rise and drop, every lilted word he could get. Like an anchor deep in the bottom of the sea, you ground him from drifting away to that bottomless pit he was once in back then.

It’s not until you stop talking for a second that he realizes he’s been focusing too much on the sound instead of comprehending what you’ve been saying, and you immediately catch on to that. You gently call out to him, and Sakura has to hold in the urge to shy away into the collar of his shirt from how affectionate and nice his name sounds on your lips.

“Sakura?”

“W-what?” He flushes red, though he’s glad that you’re not there to see it.

You bite down on your bottom lip, lightly chuckling in endearment. “Nothing, I just…”

A beat of silence passes.

“I love you, yeah?”

Yup, Sakura is a goner now (if not already).

told yall i’m a sakura girlie heh (< said the person who wrote for some other guy first before her top fave)

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

#wbk x reader #wind breaker x reader #windbreaker x reader #wbk #wind breaker #wind breaker (satoru nii)#sakura haruka #sakura haruka x reader #haruka sakura x reader #haruka sakura fluff #sakura haruka fluff #sakura haruka x you #🥣 rye works #divider by saradika

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bamfkeeper · 2 days ago

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Absolution. | K.W

Do not read if this if any of the warnings make you uncomfortable, please just skip it. I mean no disrespect to religion, this is just a stupid fanfic please do not take this seriously.

a/n: I started this fic in JULY. So if the writing seems a little weird, that's why. I've grown a lot since I first started this blog so my style has switched up a bit. I tried to keep to Kurt's character even with the scenario, hopefully I balanced it out okay. Probably not everyone's thing so...don't read if not. Slowly making my way back here. Not proofread, will do at a later date. ;; wc: 4.7k

You were so bored.

It was a lazy day at the mansion, your boredom drove you into a cleaning frenzy. While rummaging through Kurt's wardrobe, you stumbled upon something you hadn't seen before. "Kurt, is this..." you begin, your voice trailing off as you carefully extract the garment from its hiding place.

Kurt glances up from the book he held, perched on the chair sitting in the corner of the room, his eyes softening with recognition. "Ah, ja...my robes," he responds, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. Rising from his seat, he approaches you with measured steps, gently taking the robes from your hands. "I have not worn them in quite some time," he muses, his fingers tracing the familiar fabric with reverence.

Intrigued by this glimpse into Kurt's past, you can't help but tilt your head, "You should put them on." Your curiosity piqued, you add, "I'd love to see how you look in them." You didn't share the same views, which might've been why Kurt was a bit reserved about that part of himself, not wanting to make you feel pressured or uncomfortable.

You make yourself comfortable on the bed, eager to see how he looked in his robes. Kurt, ever obliging, nods in response to your request and begins to don his priestly attire. The process is unhurried, almost ritualistic, as he carefully slips into each layer. Once fully dressed, he turns his attention to the details, his fingers working to adjust the collar just so. Standing before the mirror, Kurt takes a moment to assess his reflection, his expression a mixture of familiarity and something like nostalgia crosses his features.

"Well, what do you think, liebling?" he inquired, slowly rotating to face you with his arms slightly extended. His end of his tail tail swayed under the end of the robe in a languid motion as his eyes met yours, curiosity evident in his gaze. As you observed him, an unexpected sensation stirred within you, a powerful and undeniable attraction that you found impossible to ignore. You felt shame bubble in your belly, you shouldn't be this attracted to him like this. It was wrong, but...it felt so right.

Drawn by this magnetic pull, you rose from your seat and approached him. Your voice was low and appreciative as you commented, "You look really good wearing this." Your hand, almost of its own accord, traced a path up his chest, feeling the warmth beneath the fabric. He responded with a soft, knowing chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Ah... I see that mischievous glint in your eyes. You're thinking naughty things, aren't you?" he remarked, gently placing his hand over yours to halt its exploratory journey.

"I understand what you desire, liebe," he continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "However, I'm not certain I can fulfill that wish while wearing these garments. They hold too much sacred meaning for me...engaging in such activities while wearing them would feel far too blasphemous." His words trailed off, leaving an air of regret hanging between you.

Kurt held his religious beliefs close to his heart, creating a conflict between his desire not to disappoint you and his need to maintain the sanctity of his attire. The struggle was obvious in his expression as he grappled with the dilemma of wanting to please you without compromising his deeply held convictions.

"Why don't we pretend?" you suggested with a mischievous glint in your eye. "Something along the lines of roleplaying, maybe? Given your natural flair for theatrics and showmanship, I'm sure you could have fun with it." The proposition wasn't without merit, and he thought about it for a moment, his mind clearly working through the possibilities. His head tilted to the side in contemplation, and reaching his internal consensus, he nodded in agreement, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Very well," he replied, his voice a mix of curiosity and enthusiasm. "We can certainly give that a try. If it brings you happiness, then I'm more than willing." His smile widened as he leaned in, planting a gentle, affectionate kiss on the tip of your nose. "However, I'll need a moment to prepare. Allow me to make some alterations to my appearance and demeanor. I have a different robe I will change into, very similar to this one, don't worry. Just less significant to me."

And just like that, the scene was set.

In what felt like a few moments, Kurt had transformed. He now stood towering above you, his presence suddenly commanding and authoritative.

You were on your knees before him, a position that encouraged the power dynamic you both had agreed to explore. Kurt reached down and cupped your chin in his hand, gentle and assertive, tilting your face upward to meet his gaze. His eyes, usually warm and playful, now held a hint of stern judgment, perfectly in character for the role he had assumed.

"Well, well," he began, his voice taking on a rich, sonorous quality that sent a shiver down your spine. "You've been quite the naughty sinner, haven't you?" His tone carried a note of playful admonishment, but there was an underlying current of something more intense. "After all the transgressions you've committed, you now come seeking absolution? Seeking forgiveness from me?" He questioned, his delivery starting off with a hint of theatrical flair.

It was clear that this was new territory for him, and initially, he felt a touch of self-consciousness, a slight awkwardness in inhabiting this unfamiliar role. However, as he continued, you could see him settling into the character, his confidence growing with each word. His initial hesitation was rapidly giving way to a more controlled, measured performance, as he found his footing in this improvised scenario.

You felt nervous and excited, the feelings coursing through your veins, having never engaged in 'roleplay' before. A slight tremor shook your voice and a few nervous chuckles followed, you managed to formulate a response. "Oh, Father Wagner," you began, your words held playful desperation, "I've been so busy, I haven’t had the time to come to you. But now, I find myself in dire need of spiritual cleansing. You're the only one who possesses the power to absolve me of my sins." As the words left your lips, you had to bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a giggle at the sheer ridiculousness of the scenario.

"My child," he responded, his tone suddenly shifting, "The act of sinning is no trivial matter to be taken lightly." His abrupt immersion into the 'role' caught you completely off guard, leaving you momentarily stunned. He released his grip on your chin and fixed you with a stern, unyielding gaze. "However," he continued, his voice low and resonant, "You are fortunate indeed. For I have been bestowed the ability to purge the corruption of sin from your very soul."

A part of you wanted to burst into laughter, seeing him adopt such a serious demeanor for this playful charade was a surprise. However, not wanting to shatter the illusion or dampen the enjoyment of the moment, you made a conscious effort to maintain your composure and play along. You gave a slight bow with your head, responding in a soft, reverent tone, "Yes, Father Wagner." You repeated his title, savoring the way it rolled off your tongue.

Slowly, you raised your gaze to meet his, your eyes wide and imploring, your features arranged into the most innocent expression you could muster. "I humbly beseech you," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper, "Please, cleanse my soul of its impurities."

Kurt gently lifted you from the floor and guided you to the bed. "I will have to start with the basics, my dear, but do not be afraid. I promise you, I will purify your soul," he whispered, his voice acting as a soothing balm to your nerves. His lips brushed against the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine as he guided you to lay across the edge of the bed, his touch both firm and gentle. "Now, stay perfectly still..." he hummed, his voice a low, melodic rumble. You felt him move away, his presence shifting to the side as he reached for something unseen.

Curiosity got the better of you, and you attempted to turn your head, eager to catch a glimpse of what he was doing. However, Kurt's hand swiftly returned, his palm warm against the back of your head as he held you in place. "Ah, nein, my little sinner," he chided softly, a hint of playfulness in his tone. "You must remain still for the cleansing ritual to work its magic." His fingers began to move, gently scratching your scalp in a soothing manner before he slowly withdrew his touch.

You couldn't help but let out a small huff of frustration, torn between the desire to see and the need to obey his instructions. Despite your impatience, you forced yourself to comply, your body relaxing into the position he had placed you in.

"Alright, alright," you conceded, your voice a mixture of resignation and anticipation. "What exactly do you have in store for me, Father Wagner?" The question hung in the air, your curiosity peaking as you waited, body tense with expectation. The soft sound of Kurt's footsteps reached your ears as he moved around the room. When he returned, you sensed his presence beside you, accompanied by the subtle rustle of fabric.

"I have something special for you, mein Schatz," he murmured, his accent thickening slightly with emotion. You heard the gentle thud of an object being placed on the bed next to you, and from the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of a small, ornate box. The sight of it only heightened your curiosity, and Kurt knew it.

"This has all of my cleansing tools, my dear. I promise you I will be forgiven when I am done," Kurt said, his voice a low, husky whisper. His hand glided over the curve of your ass, slow and deliberate, his touch both gentle and electrifying. The anticipation built with each passing second, your skin tingling under his fingertips. Just as you began to relax into his caress, he suddenly laid a firm smack to your backside. The sharp sound echoed in the room, followed immediately by a stinging sensation that spread across your skin.

Your eyes widened in shock, and before you could process what had happened, a sharp cry of surprise escaped your lips. "Ah, Kurt!" You spat out, shock in your tone as you blinked and registered the sensation. The unexpected nature of his action left you breathless, your mind reeling as you tried to comprehend that he had actually spanked you, of all things.

"Es tut mir Leid, schatz...are you okay?" Kurt asked, his voice shifting from the dominant tone he had adopted earlier to one of concern. He paused, breaking character for a moment as he gently rubbed his hand over your backside, soothing the lingering sting from his unexpected strike. The tender ministrations of his fingers helped ease the sensation, and you realized that while the spank had been surprising, it hadn't actually hurt. You still appreciated his attentiveness and care, even in the midst of your roleplay. You nodded, meeting his gaze to reassure him of your well-being.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you replied, your voice a little breathier than usual. A smile played at the corners of your mouth as you continued, "I just didn't expect it, but I'm down if that's what you wanna do." Your words came out as a purr, laden with a newfound excitement.

A playful glint danced in your eyes, reflecting your growing intrigue with this unexpected turn of events. Kurt's cheeks flushed a light shade of violet, betraying his initial surprise at your enthusiastic response.

For a moment, his carefully constructed persona faltered, and you caught a glimpse of the sweet, sometimes shy man beneath the dominant exterior.

He quickly cleared his throat, visibly attempting to regain his composure and slip back into character. As you watched him struggle to maintain his role, you felt a wave of affection wash over you. You were genuinely touched that he had taken the time to check in and ensure he wasn't overstepping any boundaries. You gave him a nod, silently telling him you were good to continue.

He delivered another firm smack to your ass, this time with increased intensity. "Such a mischievous creature you are, I certainly have my work cut out for me, ja? What shall I do with such a naughty thing..." he mused, allowing his hand to caress one of your cheeks tenderly before administering another spank. A soft whimper escaped your lips as you bit down gently, eliciting a smile from him. "Remember, liebe, if you wish to stop, simply say 'red'," he cooed reassuringly, planting a gentle kiss along your spine. You nodded in understanding, acknowledging the safe word.

Kurt delicately parted you, tilting his head to the side with a knowing and somewhat playful smile. "My, my, you're already quite aroused, my little sinner...truly a naughty thing indeed. It seems I shall have to purify you in an alternative manner." His voice carried a blend of amusement and authority, causing your heart to race even more rapidly than before. He leaned in closer, his warm breath caressing your skin, as he continued in a low, seductive murmur, "This cleansing will be most thorough, I assure you. It will be an experience that shall linger in your memory for quite some time to come...and make you think twice before committing a sin again."

You could feel something warm on your ass and you stiffened slightly, feeling a lubricated finger gently teasing the ring of muscle. He felt your body grow tense, noticing the subtle shift in your posture. Kurt circled his finger around the tightened muscle, trying to ease the tension. "Are you alright, Liebling?" Kurt asked softly, his voice concerned again. "Remember, you can say 'red' if you want to stop at any point," he reminded gently, emphasizing your safety and comfort above all else.

"I-I'm okay, just new...is all." You managed to reply, your voice trembling slightly as you spoke. The sensation of your stomach tightening made everything feel a lot more sensitive. You had never done this before, and the unfamiliarity of the situation left you feeling a bit unsure, but willing to try it.

Kurt slowly pushed his finger past the muscle and you gasped. His finger weaseled its way into you, gently pumping in and out, the lube making it much easier than without. The sensation was so weird, but it felt so good too.

"Nngh...that feels good..." you murmured softly, your entire body melting into his gentle caress. With each delicate movement of his finger, you instinctively leaned back towards him, craving more of his touch. The sensation coursed through you, feeling so alien and unfamiliar, yet simultaneously exhilarating and soothing. The pleasure it brought left you yearning for more, desperate to feel more pleasure from your puckered entrance.

"Does it now? Well...a delicate little thing like you would naturally be drawn to this, wouldn't you? Such a taboo act...and here you are, completely enthralled by it." Kurt's voice was a low, melodious hum, tinged with a playfully sinister undertone. He deliberately withdrew his finger at an agonizingly slow pace, savoring every second of your squirming reaction. His intense gaze locked onto yours, observing with rapt attention as you quivered while looking over your shoulder at him.

The corners of his lips gradually curled upward into a self-satisfied smirk, clearly relishing the profound effect he was having on you. "Look at you, already trembling like a leaf," he remarked, his voice barely above a whisper, the intoxicating thrill of dominance unmistakable in both his tone and his piercing stare.

He decided to indulge in further exploration, his hands delicately gliding up the expanse of your bare back. He paused momentarily to bestow a gentle, comforting massage upon your shoulders, gradually easing away any lingering tension that might have been nestled within your muscles. His fingers traced a path down your spine, offering a soothing rub that coaxed you into an even deeper state of relaxation. You could feel each individual vertebra beneath his expert touch as he worked his way down your back with practiced precision.

As you surrendered more fully to his ministrations, he boldly ventured his hands lower, teasingly and playfully toying with your sensitive nipples. The unexpected sensation shot pleasure through your body, causing your face to flush deeply with a mix of arousal and bashfulness. Unable to contain your reaction, you let out a loud, unrestrained moan that echoed in the room, instinctively pressing your hips back against him in a clear display of eagerness and desire.

"Now, my lovely sinner, we shall proceed to the next crucial phase of your purification," he whispered, his lips barely grazing the delicate shell of your ear. "For this part, I'm afraid I must restrain you. Are you comfortable with that, my dearest?" His words, though softly spoken, carried a weight that made your pulse quicken.

You could feel your heart thundering within your chest, its rapid beats seeming to reverberate through your entire being. Your mind was racing, filled with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions as you tried to imagine what might come next. The atmosphere in the room seemed to shift, growing more intense and charged.

Every small sound became magnified in the growing silence - the rustle of fabric, the soft whisper of breath, the faint creak of floorboards. As you mentally steeled yourself for what was coming, time seemed to slow, each moment stretching out as you waited with bated breath for his next move.

He retrieved a delicate string adorned with small, shimmering beads. The intricate piece bore a striking resemblance to a rosary, yet it was not one in the traditional sense; the carefully chosen beads served a purely aesthetic purpose, devoid of any genuine religious significance. Kurt began to wrap the beaded string around your arms, his movements slow and deliberate as he secured them to the bed. Each loop was placed with thoughtful consideration, ensuring both your comfort and the effectiveness of the restraint.

He then turned his attention to your legs, repeating the process. The beaded strings were artfully arranged, positioning your limbs wide, you were unable to close them. The sensation was novel and a little weird, yet not unpleasant. Before going any further, he paused, allowing you a moment to acclimate to the unfamiliar feeling of restraint and the gentle pressure of the beads against your skin. His eyes met yours as he softly inquired, "Gut?" His voice was barely above a whisper, laden with care and seeking your approval.

After a brief moment of introspection, you responded with a nod, you found yourself surprisingly at ease. The bondage, expertly applied, caused no discomfort whatsoever. He made sure that the bindings around your wrists and ankles were secure without being restrictive or painful for you. Finding your voice, you replied, "I'm good, Father Wagner." Your tone carried a hint of playfulness, embracing the theatrical nature of the scenario.

He was pleased, so he continued. He shifted himself so his cock was exposed, he slowly stroked himself hard and he stepped closer. His cock head gently massaged between your folds and you mentally prepared for penetration but instead, he angled up at your other hole. You took a moment to realize what he was doing and you smirked, "Father Wagner...are you sure I'm the sinner?" You questioned playfully and wriggled your hips back.

"Hush," he said back quietly, his face blushed a bit before he got back in the mindset. "This is necessary for your sins. I unfortunately can't cleanse you through your womb, I must use the other hole you have..." he whispered, his spongy, blushed head pressed against the ring of muscle gently, prodding you lightly and teasing you.

You couldn't help but bite your lip, "Oh, are you sure I cannot pay for my sins with my pussy?" You asked with a gentle strain, turning to look back at him and blinking with feigned innocence. "Or have I been so naughty that my sweet cunt isn't worth my sins?"

Kurt grinned at your playful words, though caught a little off guard by the vulgarity, he was still enjoying the banter between you and he continued to prod your ass. "Oh, my dear, your sins are far too great for just one part of you to pay...I'm afraid only this hole will do." His tail curled behind him and handed him a small toy, he reached between your legs and teased your throbbing clit before he dragged it through your wet folds and pushed it inside your pussy. "Can't have temptation now can we?"

The surprising action from him made you let out a desperate whine, you could feel your pretty bundle of nerves throbbing at the light touch he had given you. "Only my ass, there isn't any other way?" You questioned, playing along with the direction the scene was going.

He leaned over you, kissing between your shoulder blades gently and he leaned close to speak in your ear. "Now then...let's see if we can't absolve some of these sins of yours." he whispered teasingly, spreading you a bit more before sliding into your ass slowly. The sudden intrusion into your ass made you stiffen in surprise. It was uncomfortable at first, the muscles not used to being stretched out.

The sensation was intense, causing you to inhale sharply as he eased in just past the tip. Immediately, he halted his movements, his eyes fixed intently on your face to gauge your reaction. Your comfort and well-being were important to him, regardless of the intimate act you were engaged in. He had no desire to inflict any discomfort upon you. "Are you alright?" he inquired in a gentle, concerned tone, his body completely motionless as he awaited your response.

"I just..." you exhaled slowly, trying to steady your breathing, "Need a moment to adjust..." you managed to say, your voice slightly strained. The initial discomfort was challenging, even with the careful preparation he had undertaken beforehand. His hands moved to your hips, gently caressing them in soothing, circular motions, but the rest of his body remained perfectly still, allowing you the time you needed.

Several minutes passed as you gradually acclimated to the new sensation. When you felt ready, you cautiously shifted your hips backward, assisting him in entering further. "Mmm...it's better now...f-feels good," you murmured, your voice a mixture of relief and growing pleasure.

"Gut...I will purify you, my child, do not fear," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He began to move his hips steadily, a rhythmic motion that gradually increased in intensity. Slowly, deliberately, he rocked into you, his thrusts careful and measured until he was fully seated within you. Kurt's arms encircled you, holding you close against his body, the warmth of his embrace felt good against the cool bedroom air.

The soft fabric of his robes swayed gently with each movement, creating a whisper of sound in the quiet room. "Ach....you are tight as a drum," he breathed, his words barely audible. He swallowed thickly, his body trembling with the effort of restraint, fighting against the overwhelming urge to lose himself in the moment.

You sighed deeply, your body responding to his movements with a shudder that ran from the base of your spine to the nape of your neck. Instinctively, you were rocking back against him, your bodies moving in perfect synchronization. "I can feel it working," you panted, your voice breathy. "I feel it, getting better...aah...the sins are leaving me…" Your words trailed off into a soft moan.

"They will fade, just let me cleanse you..." Kurt hissed against your skin, his hips thrusting faster against you as he focused on pumping himself in and out at a good pace. His cock stretched you so good, your previously unused hole now burning with hot desire, squeezing every ounce of him into your cavern.

"Kurt, oh my god...keep going," you moaned loudly, feeling every single bit of his dick deep inside you. Every vein against the muscle of your ass, the curve of that soft tip and the thickness pushing its way in and out with each piston of his hips. It felt so damn good, you were molding to him.

"I...am almost there, liebling..." Kurt rasped, his tail wrapped around your thigh tightly as he focused his thrusts. His endurance was impressive as hell, and he was determined to continue the pace he set without faltering.

The spade of his tail slithered over your clit and rubbed over it, gently teasing the bud enough for you to react and moan. His hands moved from your hips and ran under you to feel your chest. He was practically laying on you now, his hips not stuttering for a second.

You felt your climax approach and wash over you before you could warn him, and you let out a loud cry of pleasure as you came. Kurt's eyes widened, you tightened around him with your orgasm and his hips halted. He shot his climax deep into you, a guttural groan leaving his throat as he held you still.

Kurt gave a few more solid thrusts before he pulled out of your swollen hole, watching his cum drip out of your throbbing muscle. He felt such pride seeing you this way, but he knew you were extra sensitive now and the play was over after your respective climaxes. He reached and carefully removed the toy from your pussy, earning a soft whine from you.

"Ach...liebe...you will be the death of me..." He moved to unbind you, his fingers working methodically to remove each restraint one by one. As the bindings fell away, your limbs were finally free to relax from their confined position. Your muscles, having been held taut for so long, now felt completely boneless - like warm honey flowing through your veins. You rolled languidly onto your side and curled up into yourself, savoring the pure bliss that came with being able to bend and stretch your limbs again.

He settled beside you, shrugging off his robe before taking one of your arms into his hands as he began to massage the places where the restraints had been. His strong fingers working in slow, deliberate circles to encourage proper circulation. Each press of his fingertips was perfectly measured, firm enough to be therapeutic but gentle enough to soothe. He punctuated each rub with soft kisses, his lips trailing over the subtle marks left behind on your skin, trying to kiss away any lingering discomfort.

You were grateful for his gentle touch, melting into his embrace as he carefully tended to you. The warmth of his hands was soothing against your skin, and you couldn't help but sink deeper into the comfort he provided. You weren't hurt, but there was definitely a pleasant soreness settling into your muscles now. "That was...amazing," you breathed softly, your voice filled with contentment, "I mean...wow... I don't even know what to say..."

"You liked it?" Kurt asked, a gentle smile playing across his features as his hand splayed across your back, fingers working in slow, methodical circles to ease the tension around your hips.

"I didn't expect you to take the role so easily, or seriously..." You chuckled lightly, looking up at him from where you were comfortably nestled against his chest, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his skin. "But...it was fun. I mean, really fun. Did you enjoy it too? You didn't feel pressured into anything, right? I know it was kind of a weird request..."

"Of course not, liebe. I enjoyed it very much. Besides, seeing you so completely blissed out is one of my absolute favorite things to see...~" Kurt teased with a gentle smirk, his playful tone making you squirm as his tail lazily wrapped around your waist.

"Kurt..." You whined and quickly pulled the soft blanket nearby over your flushed body, burying your face against his chest, "We just finished! Don't get any ideas!"

"Okay, okay...no more play tonight. Just let Father Wagner take care of his precious little sinner now. You need your rest."

"Kurt!" You exclaimed, playfully swatting his arm despite the smile you couldn't quite hide. Regardless, you curled up as he continued to pamper you after the scene, his slow rubs and hums lulling you into a much needed nap.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Image from unknown source. I searched for over an hour to find the source but wasn't able to find it. If you know please message me so I can update this.

#kurt wagner #nightcrawler #kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #kurt wagner smut #nightcrawler smut #x men #xmen #x men 97 #kurt wagner x you #kurt wagner x reader smut #nightcrawler x you #nightcrawler x reader smut #nightcrawler x men #xmen nightcrawler #🎠my works

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zuzuelectricbugaloo · 6 hours ago

Text

Hold Me When I Stand

Pairing: Cross/Epic

Rating: Teen

Synopsis: Inspired by the Drabble idea I wrote a while back and the GORGEOUS art @toffeebrews made, Epic finally reveals why Cross had never seen his hands bare before, until now.

CW: None I can think of, but do let me know if there should be one

Part 1 of 3: Wuh Oh, Trauma

Word Count: 5, 490

Best friends notice everything about each other.

Everything, from blatant details like disliking ketchup (except when mixed with chocolate)--

Cross’s face scrunched up as Delta and Color knocked their bottles of ketchup together before they tilted their skulls back and chugged. “You guys are gross.” They laughed at his “skrunkly” expression, as Epic called it.

–to bright, bubbly laughter tumbling out in jubilant “mwehs” when truly relaxed.

Epic watched as Cross laughed, breath catching in his throat as Cross laughed so hard he cried, mirthful tears welling in the edges of his sockets and mana painted his cheekbones like lilac flower kisses.

To preferring bandanas over ascots because bandanas “are cooler ‘cause they’re like badass mini scarves”.

Epic kept track of it all. Whenever he discovered chocolate with a(n) unusual ingredient(s), a delighted smile on a cherished face would enter his mind, and the now unimportant cost was promptly brushed aside. That bright laughter his friend was ashamed of made Epic swear he glowed with the light of his Soul. And occasionally, he’d sew matching bandanas that Cross would wear on his neck while Epic adorned his own atop his skull.

But Epic was not the only one who adored his best friend.

Along with observing and noting the more obvious details, there were also more subtle nuances, like despising grass stains due to constant difficulty with clothes–

Epic holds up a pair of tan lace up boots now decorated in murky green splotches. “Look Color, I like hangin’ with ya, but if I gotta get a new pair of boots from one more hike I’m gonna lose it man.”

–and channeling that annoyance into an insult.

“Delta you grass stain you keep that battery acid out of my cookie dough right the flip now or I’m gonna snick snack paddywhack kick yo’ sorry sunny d ass!” Epic warned. He kept the bowl of his precious cookie dough out of reach from his friend with one hand and smacking Delta’s offending claw with the other.

Or always wearing gloves no matter the occasion.

Were his hands covered in nicks and scars like Cross’s claws? Did he simply enjoy the feeling of smooth leather on his bones? Was it a comfort like his bandanas were for him?

Or staring at mirrors with phalanges gripping the socket edges of a rarely opened scarred left eye, expression so dark and twisted and in startlingly contrast to the usual bright and playful grin that adorned those pretty bones.

Best friends notice everything about each other.

Cross watches as Epic rubs his eyes when he thinks Cross isn’t looking. His hands fall from his exhausted face, tired shadows painting his hooded eyes mauve, adding an alluring, faux smokey look that makes his snow white and electric violet eyelights pop.

Epic makes crippling exhaustion look hauntingly beautiful, like the ghost of sleep is forever trying to sink its claws in, success held so high out of reach the spirit never managed to grasp it. The way the shadows dance and light cradles Epic’s face, draping themselves over the contours of smooth ivory bone is like he's a painting come to life, of exhausted reverie so beautiful Cross knows without doubt the sight will haunt him for all the nights to come.

And when Epic glances over at him and his scarred Eye closes but his smile brightens, Cross’s chest floods with affectionate warmth as his best friend’s eyes glitter, terribly fond and enviably beautiful in its endearing glow. Cross quickly turns away, his smile strangely quirked at the corners and Soulbeat just a little faster to have been caught staring.

It’s only a matter of time before they learn everything about each other, too.

“Ah shit,” Epic cursed. He turned off the stove and glared at the offending sauce pan that had the audacity of bubbling and splattering itself, now coating the countertop, his sweater, and leather gloves in a greasy disaster zone of oil. “That was my last clean pair…”

“Here,” Cross picked up the towel and started to scrub the mess on the counter. “I can clean up while you change.”

“Alright, thanks bruh.” Epic was about to offer his fist for a bump before he reconsidered and sheepishly tilted his head to the side instead. Luckily Cross understood and leaned forward to softly bonk their skulls together.

“No worries dude.”

While Epic changed, Cross went ahead and threw out the oil. He’d burned his cooking enough times to realize that it had been burned beyond salvation and tossed it out. Scrubbing the pan and letting it soak while he wiped down the countertop was menial, almost relaxing as he methodically wiped and washed off the sullied kitchen area.

By the time Epic returned Cross was scrubbing his claws dry. He leaned back on the counter behind him while he waited for him to finish. “Ty man, oil spills are so annoying to clean up.”

Eh, not really. Out of all the things he’s had to clean, oil splatters on a countertop was nothing, in his opinion. Nowhere near as difficult as, say, getting chocolate stains or gunpowder out of his clothes. “De nada.”

Epic made a little noise of protest and reached out to him.

“Here lemme get that.” He held out his hand.

Cross handed him the towel. “Thanks. By the way, do you wanna go out later and–” he trailed off, noticing that Epic was wearing the same leather gloves.

As Epic put the towel in the laundry, Cross gave his best friend a quick, perplexed once-over. He’d changed out of his cable-knit sweater and now wore a new, form-fitting turtleneck that hugged his lush curves. He had the hood up (as usual) but now wore his long-sleeved jacket instead of trenchcoat. His lovely friend was dressed as pleasingly as ever, nothing odd there.

What was odd was that Epic still had on the same pair of leather gloves. That covered the leather in greasy splotches that made Cross’s own claws itch in sympathy.

Cross quirked a brow. “Forget something parce?”

“Uh,” Epic tilted his skull to the side. “Oh!”

He leaned forward suddenly, but Cross is used to them sharing each other’s personal bubbles and doesn’t react. It’s only when Epic’s throat vibrates in a low, rising hum and he presses a quick, appreciative peck on Cross’s cheek that the soldier shivers while his cheekbones burn with lilac mana and his Soul flutters.

“Mmmmwah!” Epic pulled back with cheeks dusted indigo. His unscarred eye crinkles into an upturned crescent when he smiles. “Thanks for cleaning.”

“¿Qué estás haciendo—” Cross sputtered “—your gloves, dude!”

“What about ‘em?”

“What about — they're dirty!”

“Yuh, an’ I’ll change ‘em later, no worries,” Epic dismissed. “I need to do laundry so I’ll change ‘em later.”

“Okay?” Epic was no slob. He showered daily, always used those scented soaps that made Cross forcibly resist the urge to noticeably inhale his scent, usually wore some kind of floral perfume or cologne, and always changed his gloves whenever they were dirty. Sure Cross never saw him do that, but he’d always seen Epic return with a new pair. So, why was he being so hesitant now?

…Come to think of it, had Cross ever seen Epic take his gloves off?

“You’re not gonna change them?”

“Naaaah.”

Flummoxed, Cross watched Epic step pass him and wash his hands, gloves and all, in the sink. Epic shook his hands off and patted them dry on a new towel. “See? All clean now.”

Epic popped the fridge door open and rummaged through it. Cross stood beside him, increasingly confused as Epic planned aloud. “I messed up the sauce and haveta start from scratch but I’m still cravin’ souped up ramen. How ‘bout you?”

“Yeah sure whichever — what’re you doing dude?”

Cradling bundles of food Epic deposited them down on the kitchen counter. Cross shut the door behind him and followed closely as Epic started to prep. His soaked gloves glistened.

“Well I burned the OG so now I gotta make another—”

Cross put his hand over Epic’s, stopping him from peeling the garlic. Epic lets go of the peeler to hold Cross’s hand in his, and Cross warms at how readily Epic dismisses his previous task in favor of Cross holding him.

“Here,” Cross curls his distal phalanx in to catch at the end of the glove. “Let’s take this—” the moment his phalanx caught on the leather rim Epic jolted, roughly yanking his hand away like Cross had burned him.

Cross’s chest grew tight and his hand felt empty but Epic ignored the flash of hurt that flew across his face and kept his face hidden so Cross couldn’t see the guilt and regret and fear. Avoiding his gaze, he kept his back turned to Cross as he resumed his meal prep.

“I told you it’s fine. It’ll dry off in no time.”

What the hell?

The rejection stung. Epic might as well have stabbed him in the chest, his Soul ached like he had.

Frustration bubbles amid the hurt he hates that his first response when he’s hurt is to be angry, he’s never liked it especially when he knows he wasn’t always an angry man and Cross’s previously soft eyelights narrow into sharp slits.

“Come on dude just take it off.”

Epic’s shoulders were hunched as he chopped the garlic and ginger. His magic illuminated the kettle, setting the water to boil with a flick.

“No, I don’t want to. It’s fine.” Cross tried to reach for his hand but Epic side-stepped him, gracefully dodging just out of reach as he reached for the soy sauce. “Don’t stress it.”

But Cross was a persistent bastard. “Dude, come on.”

This time when Epic started to pour the boiling water he glared at Cross’s missed swipe, beginning to feel irritated himself.

“Again, just drop it.”

Cross grabbed the instant noodles before Epic could. His best friend stared, unimpressed, with a pursed frown. “Really?”

“Yes really,” Cross’s frown deepened.

“Brah, it’s fine. I’ll change ‘em later, okay?” Epic poked Cross right where he knew the other was ticklish, surprising him enough to snatch the noodles back and add them to the broth. “Jus’ not now.”

“You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not!” Epic protested.

Cross quirked a brow. “You’re being weird right now,” he retorted.

The two locked gazes. Epic’s phalanges drummed against the countertop. Cross held the block of cheddar he needed to shred within his crossed arms. The soldier counted on time; Epic needed to get the cheese in before the noodles softened or else they would be too mushy (Epic taught him that).

Like Cross expected, Epic relented first. He sighed and closed his eye. “OK, fine. I’ll go change them.”

He could just do it here? But at least it was something.

Pleased, Cross nodded, uncrossing his arms to swiftly shred the cheese and throw it into the pan. “Thank you.”

“Keep an eye on the broth?”

“And I’ll throw in the seasonings too, I got it.” Cross opened the packets. Epic nodded gratefully.

He vanished in a spark of magic.

Cross cracked a couple eggs to add to the broth and closed the lid, setting it to a medium low slimmer to slow cook the eggs. He didn’t mind if it was overcooked or not, but he remembered that Epic’s favorite way to eat them was when the yolks were runny. When Epic returned a few minutes later, this time wearing long, rubber gloves that he often wore for washing the dishes, Cross contemplated whacking him with the pan.

“¿Hablas en serio?”

“Sinabi ko na sayo,” Epic chirped, his smug little grin annoyingly charming. He set out two bowls for them both, carefully pouring the ramen into each, the eggs jiggling but remaining unbroken atop the noodles. “It’s not a big deal, I just like wearing gloves.”

Cross knew his best friend. There was something more to this. His Soul could feel it. He accepted the chopsticks Epic handed him to softly set them down. “Epic,” his best friend pauses mid-scoop of his dish, “seriously, why are you being so cagey about this?”

A horrible, gnawing thought. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

There. Right there.

Epic’s face was the same, he’d always had an impeccable poker face, but it was his eye. The beautiful glow of that ivory orb dimmed.

Epic fidgeted. Slowly taking a single, small bite and chewing without reaching for more.

“Are you okay? Did you hurt your hands or something?”

“No, no,” Epic murmured, “I’m not hurt.”

Okay, good. He was being more open.

Cross continued his gentle questioning. “Is it a tattoo?”

That got a little snort out of Epic. He covered his mouth to hide it, but Cross had heard the bubbly laugh and his own chest felt lighter. “Cross, come on. Y’know the only tats I’ve gotten are the silly temp ones.”

Delighted that his dear friend was cheering up, the soldier persisted. “It can’t be that bad.” Cross hummed in thought. “What? You got drunk and got a tramp stamp but it’s in your hand? Wait…” Cross paused. “Do you have a tramp stamp?”

Epic guffawed. “Stars, no. Maybe a temp one as a joke but nah. Definitely no tats on this guy, sorry bud.”

A smile quirked at Cross’s mouth. He was glad Epic had relaxed. But he knew he had to keep trying. Softly, he keeps his voice as neutral but gentle as he can when he inquires “Is it a scar?”

“I,” Epic faltered. “Huh. IDK, actually,” he admitted. He sets the chopsticks down and sighs, wiping his mouth off with a napkin. Finally, he meets Cross’s eyes. Carefully, he murmured, “Technically, might be more of a mutilation than a scar.”

“Okay?” Epic wasn’t missing any digits and his hands looked intact. “Anything like my gaps from my scars? Those aren’t that bad,” Cross reassured.

Epic smiled, but it was sad and empty.

Cross wanted to cradle his face and hold him until the light returned to his eye.

“I think you’d hate it if you saw it.”

Finally, things started to make a little more sense. “And that’s why you won’t take off your gloves in front of people? In front of me?” Cross guessed. “Because you think it’s something horrible enough to be hated?”

Epic winced. “Especially if you saw, yeah, man, and I don’t—” he stopped, a flicker of fear passing in his eye before he turned away. “I don’t want you to see me differently. T-to hate me,” he confessed, his voice silencing to a whisper at the end.

At once, Cross felt himself soften, his Soul impossibly warm and affectionate. “Oh, mi mejor amigo,” Cross placed his claw over Epic’s hand. “I could never hate you.”

Epic slowly lifts his gaze. “...”

“You don’t have to show me, or say why.” He squeezed his hand before he let go, missing how Epic curled the touched hand inward into the wooden table when he picked up his chopsticks. “It’s deep personal stuff. You don’t have to talk about any of that, I get it. I was just worried about you, but I get it now. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Epic stared at his ramen, expression indecipherable while his thoughts warred inside his mind. “Thanks.”

Epic was unnaturally quiet for the duration of their meal. They sat in companionable silence and enjoyed their comfort food. While Epic mulled over his thoughts, his gloved hand idly rubbing over the other, Cross was grateful his best friend had opened up to him, and kept his word, letting Epic have his space.

When they finished, Epic’s body moved on autopilot and followed Cross to the sink. There, he washed the dishes for the day—he had on the rubber gloves for it anyway, heh—and Cross washed his claws before taking the place on his other side with a towel in hand. Epic would scrub them clean, then rinse off the soap, and hand off the wet dish to Cross, who’d dry them off and put them back in their place.

There wasn’t a lot to go through, and in hardly any time at all, there’s only one plate left. Epic stares at it, gaze far off and distant. After a few moments have passed, Cross is about to regain Epic’s attention and ask for the plate. Only for Epic to speak and inquire something at the same time.

“Hey, do you want me to get tha—”

“Do you still wanna see?”

They both stare. Heh, whoops.

Cross cleared his false throat. “Sorry, what was that?”

Epic handed him the plate. He dried it off. As his back is turned while he sets it back in the cupboard, Epic repeats his earlier question.

“I asked if you still wanna see.”

“Oh,” Cross closes the cabinet door and turns to look at him. “I am curious,” he professed, “but you’re not obligated to tell me or show me anything, man.”

“Samesies, bruh, but I,” Epic wished he had some gum or jolly rancher or something to chew on. His Soul beat quicker as his eye darted away from Cross’s face and back. “I…if anyone ever saw, or, or knew…I’d want it to be you, Cross.”

He…doesn’t know how to react to that, really, what could he say? What should he say?

All he can do is stare at an unusually demure Epic, the way Epic looked at him, eyelight soft with ardor and glittering pearlescent under the phosphorescent light.

It wasn’t uncommon that he found himself like this because of Epic: breathless and lost while his Soul batted insistently beneath his ribs.

Tongue-tied, he nods. “Oh, thanks. You too.”

Stars, he was such a dumbass.

Glancing at the front door, Epic squeezed his hand over the other. “Is it okay if we do this in my room? I don’t want Delta or Color or someone ‘porting in and seeing. Or hearing,” he added.

Cross nodded in understanding. “Yeah dude, whatever’s more comfy for you.”

He followed Epic up the familiar path of stairs to his room. Everything is mostly clean and tidy from when they last hung out here, and he settled comfortably atop the bed. He’d always appreciated how Epic kept his bedroom neat for his sake, especially the bed.

One of his pet peeves was untidy beds, but Epic’s blankets and pillows — along with a few plushies — were arranged in an aesthetic way, pleasantly scratching that itch of despising unkempt habitude.

After double checking to make sure the door was shut and locked, Epic soon joined him, plopping down beside him with a sigh. He leaned back to rest his skull and back against the wall.

“‘Kay. So, uh,” Epic fiddled with his rubber covered digits. “I guess I ought just get it outta the way, yeah?” Cross’s eyelights flit from the rubber material to his tired eye as he spoke. “…Promise you’ll try not to hate me?”

Slowly, digits curled around the top of the glove.

Exasperated and a little irked that Epix would think Cross would ever hate his best friend, he opened his mouth to reply—

—only to freeze when the glove is peeled back and Cross sees Epic’s uncovered palms for the first time.

He was expecting a gash or two, maybe something long and big since most people disliked scars, but he dumbly realized Epic had been right to describe it as a ‘mutilation’. There, in the center, it was just…gone.

The other glove came off, joining the other somewhere off to the side of the bed. Cross paid it no mind, gaze zeroed in on the holes.

His palms were hollowed. But how could it have happened? The circles were too neat, too precise to have been accidental.

The only other skeleton he’d known with holes in their palms was Gaster, and it was because of his experiments—oh.

With increasing clarity, Cross’s eyes trailed up Epic’s hands to his face. His expression was carefully blank as he waited, observing Cross’s reaction with fearful intensity.

“Did he?” He can’t bring himself to say it.

A slow nod. “Yeah. Both of ‘em.” His hands rubbed over the other, fist clenching and unclenching as Epic glanced away. “First time was to make the—make something. Second time was to try to get the first failure to work better. It didn’t. So, now I’ve got these two “donut holes”, but all hole and no donut.”

Cross missed his joke, too focused on his hands. “Do they hurt?” Epic shook his head.

“Nah, I don’t feel anything. Kinda sensitive if they’re touched but otherwise I try to ignore them if I can.”

Cross holds out his claws. “Can I?”

His friend stared at his claws, then him. After a pause, Epic slowly blinked, and then he nodded. “Okay.”

Cross gently takes Epic’s hand in his. Ungloved, it feels strange to hold him but not unwelcome. There’s a hum of magic around the cored palm. Not unwelcome, per say, but it made it easier to feel Epic’s Intent. More concentrated maybe? He circled the rim with a claw and Epic shuddered, mouth parting in a low gasp.

“Does it hurt?”

He shook his head. His cheekbones were dusted indigo. “It’s just…strange? Touch and Intent is uh. More potent around it, I guess?” Epic’s brows furrowed in thought. “Huh. Like, just that feels like you’re hugging me.”

“Really?” Intrigued, Cross pressed more firmly on the rim, pressing into the textured but no less smooth bone, purposefully pouring in more of his Intent in the fond touch.

Okay?/Okay?/Feel okay/You’re still the same/Still mine/Okay?

His hand jolted within Cross’s grasp, Epic’s breath stuttered and ragged, the small, surprised noise he made caught in his throat. Cross looked up, worried he’d hurt him, and Epic’s eye was wide with unshed tears.

He immediately pulled away from the hole to lace their fingers together instead. A comforting handhold to hopefully soothe and amend his misstep. “Shit, I’m sorry, are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, I’m good, I’m good. It’s just so…intense,” Epic husks, “That time it. Uh, maybe leave ‘em alone, I think. ‘s not bad,” he quickly reassured. “Just a lot.”

Hearing Epic’s deep voice so utterly breathless and dazed sends a thrill down his spine and he shoves that feeling deep down and refuses to acknowledge it maybe later when he’s alone he can process how and why he feels like that.

“O-okay. Like what?”

His hand absentmindedly squeezes Cross’s as he thought. “I guess them being exposed is like, hmm.” Epic paused. “Okay, you ever summoned your body?”

He often did it for training, fighting, whatever. Cross nodded. “Yeah?”

“Right, and you know when the magic is still connected to the inner mana networks on the inside, but is also starting to form and spread from that mainframe to your external body?”

“Uh huh.”

“It feels like you're touching that.”

“Oh.” He slowly nodded, trying to imagine experiencing it himself. “Okay.”

Epic’s voice gentles into something unbearably soft that it coaxes his own mana out to burn lilac on his zygomas. “And you put your kind Intent in that, might as well have been sent right to my Soul.”

“Oh. Well, I meant it, and you feel what I mean, right?” Epic nods, and Cross—

“Yeah, I get it. I’m always gonna be your best friend too, Cross.” His thumb caressed the back of his claw. “I feel and know it.”

Lungs without function shudder around an unnecessary breath.

It's impossible to ever tire of hearing those words. That he’d always be Epic’s best friend, that Epic would always care for him no matter what. Despite everything that had happened, despite losing his memories and rebuilding their friendship anew, Epic never once stopped caring, never once gave up on Cross.

All his life, he’d been a failure. A disappointment. Never something worth carrying for because he didn’t live up to whatever expectation or use someone had for him.

Not as a son, not as an older brother, not as a friend, and not even as a weapon.

Always, Epic was exactly what he needed and wanted and he wanted to pull him close and taste—

Cross cleared his throat. “Same, dude.” He bonked his skull with Epic’s. “Always.”

Epic seemed to be ruminating on something else, the hand not held by Cross’s was stroking his scarred eye, distal phalanges trailing the line.

“There’s probably one more thing you oughta know, Cross.”

The soldier nodded. “Whatever it is, it changes nothing between us,” determined, his hold tightened on Epic. “I promise,” he vowed.

Epic stared at him, his carpals and metacarpals covering his scarred eye. He took a deep, slow breath. “Stars, I hope so,” he murmured so quietly he almost missed it.

When Epic’s hand left his face, both his eyes were open.

White and violet orbs stared into Cross’s own orbs.

“You’ve seen me open it when I fight,” Cross nodded silently, “but otherwise I try to keep it hidden.”

Why? He still looked fine as ever to Cross.

“That’s why I always keep it closed if I can or never let anyone see me without gloves. ‘Cause everytime I see this Eye, see my hands,” his best friend’s face contorts, burning with a hatred so cold and dark that a shiver travels down his spine. “I’m reminded of that, that putang ina,” Epic cursed. Everytime I look at myself or look at my stupid hands, all I see is him.”

“Epic, you—”

“You don’t get it. He ruined me, Cross.”

He'd always been a failure. But he made him into an abomination.

Tears well in Epic’s sockets and Cross was certain he must have a physical heart because he could feel it break. “I can’t sleep. No, literally. I literally don’t sleep.”

His bed was always so neat and tidy…

Like it was hardly (or never) used.

Epic trembles, his voice shaking but now that he’s started he can’t stop. “Every single damn time I fall unconscious, the Eye channels magic from the Void and creates these creatures, horrible demons that if I don’t kill them first they kill me. Every. Single. Time.”

But then, that would mean… “Is that how you have LV?” Epic nods, his shadowed face riddled with exhaustion.

“Yeah. But if I don’t do it, I die. And dying doesn’t even take me out of that place. My body has to wake up.”

“I’ve gotten better at it,” he admitted. “I hardly die anymore, now. But I’m always tired, and there’s nothing I can do to feel totally good and awake. But I’m so done,” the tears finally fall, glistening as they travel down porcelain bone. “I’m so, so tired, Cross. Sometimes,” Epic falters. “Sometimes…I just want it to end. And just lay down and never wake up again, if it meant it would finally stop.”

There are too many times where he said the wrong thing or did the wrong thing even when he had the best intentions at heart.

Always Sometimes, it feels like all Cross is good at is hurting.

His friends.

“Frisk! What have you done, you idiot?!”

“I’ll Reset the world and make things right.”

His family.

“B-Brother…”

“My name is Cross!"

The ones he loved.

“Long time no see bruh! I barely recognized you in that weird outfit!”

“BACK OFF!”

If he wasn’t used for someone else’s convenience, all he could do was hurt.

But this time,

Epic lifts his head up when Cross gently pulls the hand tugging at his scarred socket out.

He won’t.

He was full of DETERMINATION.

“Dying’s easy for us, huh?” Epic laughed bitterly.

“I’ll say.”

“It’d be so easy,” Cross continued. “To kill for you, to die for you.”

Epic’s hand is cold in his burning claws. But together they are warm.

“In a Soulbeat.” Epic agreed.

“But I want to live for you, too.”

“Living is grief, and we die anyway,” Epic pointed out. His lovely eyes are dim, glow duller than their usual brilliant light.

He didn’t disagree. “Always mourning what could’ve been, what won’t be, what we can’t save.”

“It’ll never stop.” Epic closed his eyes. “No matter how hard we try or want it to.”

But there were so many reasons to keep trying anyway, so many little reasons to keep going.

“At the very least,” Epic sighed. “I’ve got used to dealing with it after two decades.” He glared down at his hollowed palms. “I just wish I didn’t look like him, too.” He seemed to deflate, shoulders hunching in as he’s unable to meet Cross’s gaze. “It’s why I thought you’d freak out or hate m—hate it, ‘cause it looks like Gaster and I know he was just as shitty to you, too, a-and I didn’t want you to see him when you look at me—”

His self-depreciative tirade slows when Cross gently takes his hands in his and turns them over, slowly running his phalanges around and over his cored palms phalanges while Epic anxiously waits for his reaction.

And Cross just looks at him, soft and sweet, humming as he replies. “I don’t see Gaster. I only see you.” And he lances their hands together and brings Epic’s palm to his mouth.

His eyes watch Epic’s as he purposefully presses the tip of the hollowed crevice to his teeth in a gentle kiss, mindful of his Intent and force of his touch. “And my best friend is beautiful.”

“Even my Eye?” Cross nods, reaching out to cup his face and stroke his zygomatic arch with his thumb.

“Did I ever tell you, purple’s my favorite color?” Epic shakes his head. “It’s because of you.”

Epic stared at him in disbelief. “No, really. I used to hate it, hate my ecto, because it was always red until XGaster overwrote me, and it never went back.”

But now he matches his best friend, who to him, has the loveliest shade of purple he’s ever seen. A vibrant, vivacious violet, glittering like a twilight sky and brighter than all the cosmos.

“I’m your favorite?” Epic softly bumped his head with his, and Cross nuzzled him back, smiling softly into his eyes.

“Always. Like cookies and chocolate.”

“Sugar and spice.”

“Peanut butter and jelly.”

“Sushi and soy sauce.”

“Heheh,” he chuckles under his breath. “Just two peas in a pod,” Epic quips. His grin falls slightly at the corner. “But you mean it? I don’t look like him?”

“I only see you, Epic.” He promised. “Mi mejor amigo.”

The tired but dazzling smile that flutters then blooms across Epic’s expression reminds him of the field of lilacs from his AU, of the savory sweet taste of pimplom pie baked with love, of violet butterflies' graceful wings unfurling above the flowers like paint across a canvas. The picture it paints is bright and beautiful, of home and safety and peace so deep that he yearns with all his heart and Soul. A true work of art, it brightens the room and melts his fluttering Soul that blooms with warmth, like blooming flowers and fluttering butterflies.

They’re so close that Epic had only to tilt his skull to the side and gently press closer to set Cross ablaze, the point of contact sparking and shooting out through his body with electric bursts of magic.

The kiss was brief, only a tiny moment of time where Epic had nuzzled against him, but it was a euphoric eternity to his jubilant Soul.

When Epic broke away to rest into the crook of his neck, his arms wrapping around him, Cross was grateful he couldn’t see the way his entire skull flushed soft, luminous lilac.

“Thank you.” It’s whispered like a secret. And Cross knows he’s been entrusted with more than a secret.

For once, he didn’t hurt.

For once, he lov—cared for someone, and he didn’t hurt them.

When he returned his embrace, it was with the comfort that he held his world in his arms, safe and adored.

It’s gradual, but Cross noticed when Epic began to keep his gloves off. Whenever they were alone, he’d take them off without a word. Only reaching out for Cross’s hand and finding his unanswered plea accepted without a moment of hesitance. And soon it grew from an occasional happenstance to a daily occurrence.

It won’t be until several weeks later that Epic would feel safe and comfortable enough to do the same around Delta and Color.

And he would’ve never been able to without the courage all of Cross’s love and support had given him.

Cross watched Epic chat with Color, animatedly waving the hand not laced with the soldier’s in the air as he emphasized his point. The conversation went unheard, lost to him, as he focused only on a bright smile and hands openly displaying hollowed palms.

One down, he thought, unaware of the besotted smile he wore as he stared at Epic’s closed, scarred Eye. One to go.

Shoutout to my lovely moot @sirsquidsalot for help writing how hauntingly beautiful Epic is! I just couldn't phrase the paragraph quite right and they were so helpful to get that final revision. Please check out their lovely writing!

Translations:

De nada -- Spanish for "no problem"/"you're welcome"

parce -- Spanish for "buddy"/"friend"

Mi mejor amigo -- Spanish for "My best friend"

¿Qué estás haciendo -- Spanish for "What are you doing?"

“¿Hablas en serio?” -- Spanish for "Are you serious?"

Sinabi ko na sayo — Tagalog for “I already told you”

Putang ina — Tagalog for “Son of a bitch/bastard”

#crepic #cross sans #epic sans #my writing

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the-obnoxious-sibling · 1 day ago

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i have been overthinking what buck’s baking and why for too long to not throw my thoughts out into the world, so. here you go.

baked alaska: a fiddly details/impressing people dessert. i bet bobby suggested this as a date night recipe, and since he’d already bought everything buck decided he might as well make it for madney. (imo the kitchenaid was acquired for meringue-whisking purposes, if he didn’t own it already.)

the many loaves: ah, quick breads. some of the easiest baked goods to throw together without investing in fancy equipment or ingredients upfront, just mix and bake! my thought: buck realized that the hours working on the baked alaska were the first he hadn’t spent thinking constantly about tommy, so the first loaf was an experiment to see if that effect was replicable, and then, well. it’s easy to put together another bowl of batter while your first loaf is baking.

baked brie: we have a canon explanation for this one, lol.

garlic bread, baked ziti, bread pudding: by this point, buck clearly thinks the oven is the common element when it comes to not-thinking-about-tommy. (presumably he has been cooking as usual and that had no impact on his tommy thoughts.) i can’t see him having the time to make bread from scratch at the firehouse on shift, so i suspect the breads were store-bought and then enhanced with buck-made garlic butter & custard.

cookies: also very easy to make with little prep time or downtime! sure, you can let the dough chill or rest if you feel like being fancy, but it isn’t necessary to get something edible in the end. the most waiting you have to do before the actual baking is wait for your butter to soften—and as buck says in 8.08, he started out his baking craze using melted butter, so buck was not doing any waiting, not allowing himself any downtime. cookies have similar main ingredient volumes to a quick bread but require less moisture and smaller amounts of mix-ins/flavorings; probably buck switched when he ran low on pumpkin/lemon/etc.

the 8.08 basket of baked goods is not super easy to identify, with the crinkly plastic wrap and all, but it looks to me like a few quick bread loaves, some scones or biscuits, and a larger, yeasted bread loaf. this suggests to me that buck is attempting recipes that are more complex, including some which require ingredients a home cook wouldn’t typically have on hand (e.g. yeast; the loaf-sized bags and twist ties are also pretty specific to baking vs the plastic wrap of the 8.07 loaves).

is his expanding repertoire because the basic recipes aren’t holding off the tommy thoughts as well now that he’s getting good at them? because the people he’s foisting his baked goods off on are getting bored of the same old thing? because he’s getting bored of making the same things over and over again? i’m not sure. i think any of these is a valid interpretation at this point, honestly.

#tos originals #911 #bucktommy #evan buckley

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honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 2 days ago

Note

That is so nice of you honestly, i think the the ask was how a yan alucard would take advantage of his position of power in the village post season 4, and if he and the people(the villages people, the orphans, sypha and Trevor) around him would pressure his fem love interest/obsession into being with him because of all he has done for them making it very difficult to reject his advances with out becoming a social outcast .Like I can imagine a darker version of him proposing to his Darling in a public space surrounded by the aforementioned people and villagers for that very reason. And side note do you think he would turn his Darling so they could be together for ever?

A/N: Yes, oh my gosh, yes! A Yandere! Alucard would 100% use his position of power over her to gently “guide” her into falling for him. And I do think, that yes, a Yandere! Alucard would eventually try to turn his Darling. I like to think that it might take some extra dark magic, as he is not a full vampire, but that he goes down that path willingly for her (regardless of how she feels about it) because once he falls, he falls hard, and he cannot imagine living without her.

TW: Toxic/Manualpative Relationship, and Brief Mentions of Sex and Pregnancy

Yandere! Village Leader Alucard Headcanons:

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who always insists on “helping” his Darling, and whatever group she happens to be in. ‘Ah, you’re on kitchen duty today. Well it's a good thing that my Mother taught me to cook.’ & ‘Barn raising? Surely your tiny frame is no match for such a strenuous job. Here, allow me.’

You don’t like feeling helpless, but you couldn’t say ‘no’. That would be such a rude thing to deny the very Savior of your people.

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard, who is always so kind, and attentive. One who chooses to spend most of the free time he has at gatherings putting the spotlight on his Darling so that he may listen to her speak. ‘Hmm, what an interesting Speaker tradition, Sypha. Tell me, (Y/N), what sort of traditions remind you of home?’

You’re running out of things to share with him, it seems everything you could say about yourself he seems to already know.

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who memorizes every little detail his Darling shares, and uses it to his advantage, all the while pretending such occurrences are mere coincidence. ‘I found these flowers blooming on the other side of the castle and I thought of you. Truly? How lucky, I had no idea these were your favorite flowers.’ & ‘Hmm, now that you mention it, I believe Mother had an old dress in that color. Why don’t you wait here while I go and fetch it for you?’

The dress fits perfectly, huh. How odd that you and Alucard’s mother must have been the same size.

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who “lets it slip” in conversation with Trevor and Sypha just how madly in love he is with his Darling, prompting his married friends to conspire together, coming up with ways to make you see Alucard’s love. ‘I can only hope she shares the same affection, although I must admit, I am unsure of how to tell her of my feelings.’ ‘& ‘Do you mean to say you’ll help me win her devotion?’

Did Sypha always talk up Alucard like that? Trevor sure keeps talking an awful lot about being married, even for a newlywed.

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who always speaks your praises to the children, about how smart, loving, and fun you are so that when they call on him to play games, they’re always scheming to get you to play as well. ‘I must admit I’ve pondered over whether I have the ability to have my own.’ & ‘Don’t believe I haven’t seen the way you light up when the children call you Mother.’

Wait? Don’t they also call Alucard, Father?

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who insists on caring for you by himself, anytime you become the least bit injured or ill. He insists you stay within the walls of the castle for the time being, as opposed to in your cottage with your family outside. ‘I know the castle can feel overwhelming at times, but please, try to think of it as a mere extension of your home.’ & ‘I do wish you’d let me take better care of you, Darling. You’re too important of a person around here to be laid out sick so often.’

You didn't used to fall ill so often. What the hell is happening to you?!

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who makes a very public display of asking for your hand, one evening during a solstice festival. All eyes are on you as you smile, and you a faint chorus of applause as you accept the dhampir’s proposal. ‘It would be my utmost honor to marry you, my Darling.’ & ‘You are making me the happiest man alive.’

Not as if you could say no with all the other villagers and your family watching. They want this for you too, so, this marriage must be a good idea, right?

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who arranges for you to be wed as soon as possible. One of the castle’s largest halls is transformed into a makeshift chapel as Sypha performs the wedding rites. Greta acts as your Maiden of Honor, while Alucard slots Trevor in as his Best Man. All of the villagers- your family included- are there to watch the ceremony, with laughter and joyful tears in their eyes. ‘I know it’s not a church wedding, Darling. But you understand, I doubt we’d find a Priest anywhere willing to marry the son of Dracula.’

You look like royalty in the dress Alucard provided you, so you try to ignore how the cuffs of your dress’s bishop sleeves feel like weighted shackles upon your wrists.

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who promises you can’t get pregnant the first time you have sex. He’d know of course, silly! His Mother was a Doctor after all. Just let him love you… No, let him worship you, mind, body, and soul. ‘Besides, I’m quite certain dhampirs are sterile. It would take a miracle for us to make a child together.’ & ‘Even if it were to happen, it’s not the end of the world, is it? We are wedded after all.’

If that’s not a goal, why does he insist on always flipping you over so that he can watch your expression as he finishes inside you?

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who swears you will make incredible parents, and he could not be happier to have a large family with you. You have so much knowledge and wisdom to impart, creating this legacy with him is a great act of service for the world. And Alucard promises, as soon as you’re done having his children, maybe two or three, he’ll change you into a vampire so that you can enjoy the fruits of your labor at his side- forever. ‘Just imagine it, Darling. Neither one of us will be lonely ever again.’ & ‘We’ll be each other’s soulmate for all eternity.’

Surely, eternity isn’t all that long.

Right?

A/N: I hope you liked it! I was trying a different style/format here, so I apologize if it isn't what you expected. My mom’s having surgery this week, so I didn’t get as much writing/editing time as expected.

Please Like, Leave and Comment, and REBLOG if you enjoyed it!

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#adrian tepes x reader #alucard castlevania #alucard x reader #yandere alucard x reader #yandere alucard #castlevania x reader #castlevania alucard #alucard #adrian tepes #castlevania #hc #yandere #tw: yandere

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atangledfate · 2 days ago

Text

The old bird didn't comment on the caretaker, but the fact certain parties in Sol had never made a move on the clock. Was probably a good indication that he was correct. Eternity was no ones fool, and had existed since before time began and started the great wheel of time. Morpheus was not convinced the old primal had died, but rather was waiting for something or perhaps trapped somehow? Thoughts that he'd have t dwell on later. For now he focused on his sister and this stranger from another world.

" Greetings Sister, i do apologize for the sudden visit... though, we have Vistors who wished to speak with you. "

Sol gave her brother a courteous nod as she turned her eyes to Blitz, her tail swishing from side to side. She seemed quite comfortable in her guise, and could only smile at the stranger, a kindness flowing from her like a river. Though a smile could mean many things, she gave the impression of a wise woman on a mountain rather then some all powerful goddess.

" Oh, pish posh! walking as a great flame as true as it might be. Isn't the best way to greet someone. It can be rather uninviting... and i will have no one say i am not a gracious host... "

She placed her hands behind her and gave the other deity a moment to speak his mind. She seemed to never stop smiling but perhaps that was the unsettling part. Despite what was asked she didn't seem to betray her emotions, and kept herself quite calm. Morpheus could never quite tell what his sister was thinking and knew should she be upset you'd never know unless she decided to punish you.

" AH, i see... i did tell my daughter there would be consequences to her decision... and then she went and brought dear poppys whole family as well. While i have no issue with this act, i imagine its quite a disruption for your world... "

She made a motion with her hand as the realm around them shifted and churrned until they stood within a little cottage deeper within the island. A simple little home with a little fireplace, a stove, and many herbs dangling around the rather primitive cottage. The goddess motioned to a small table where Tea waited for them, the perks of a dreamscape--- it was what she wished it to be.

" Let us have tea, and we can discuss what it is you wish to change. Though i admit i do not have power over fate here... that would be the timekeeper... Eternities realm. Though they has been missing for many generations now. His caretaker Archimedes is the one to speak to on the matter. But before i allow this i would like to know details... it is my daughters fate after all and she's important to me..."

As the conversation turned to herself she seemed to smile warmly at the offer. Though there was something about the smile that was both sad, and warm at the same time. She found a seat at the table and picked her own Tea up and stared at it. She was silent for a long moment as if searching for the right words to speak.

" ... the Spark of Life, it's a peculiar thing don't you think? Have you ever stopped and watched a mortals life, just watched them born, live, struggle, love, and be loved... and die? I'm connected to all life by proxy all mortals on soul are part of me. Like them i am part of a great cycle... "

She paused taking a sip of the tea and gazing at blitz with that same smile though she did look quite tired.

" That Cycle is coming to a close, to rekindle my flame now... i'd be defying my own cycle... it would be unnatural, and go against my very ideals. My time is coming to a close... soon my daughter will be fully prepared... She believes she is kindling, to be consumed by me in order to fuel my pyre and reignite the spark of life. That she will end her own existence for me... "

Sol smiled again though was more genuine and proud, as if she was very proud of her daughter. She couldn't think of a better reward for her, a better way to say she loved her. A better way to give herself to this world she loved so much!

" That kind of loving selfless sacrifice is what this world needs... But, you see it will not be her that is consumed. But rather my essence shall enter her... i shall cease to be as a new Goddess of life is born, and she shall be my living legacy... so you see, i can't accept your offer. As generous as it is... my time comes to a close... and i am content with that... But i appreciate your concern, and am flattered by your kindness...but i must also ask that this never be spoken to my daughter--- she must never know least she may not be willing to go through with it..."

"Nothing to gain in all honesty, expect maybe for the fact if a certain specter attempts to weasel their way in this universe, she can incinerate whoever they try to send here in an instant. Other than that, it just comes down to the fact that I could possibly help so I figured I should offer it." Blitz only needed permission to slightly alter Blaze's timeline so anything else was simply him wanting to try and help.

"Well, I certainly hope he made this caretaker powerful as well. It wouldn't be very wise to leave something that can control all of time without someone strong enough to crush anyone trying to control it." If the time God of here was as smart as Morpheus made him seem then wouldn't be surprised if the caretaker was packing some serious fighting power.

"It's not that I don't have a need for it, I'm just storing up energy. Even as we speak it's building up, higher and higher. It's not something most look out for, though if you look closely enough, you'll see me slowly soaking up cosmic energy. If things go well, I'll have a rather powerful ace up my sleeve for when things get real crazy in the universe that I'm from." Seemed he was gearing up for something big.

Blitz didn't seem phased by the voice as he looked up at Sol, and then having to look down a bit, though still up. "I was expecting something intense. I don't mind if you chill in your true form. I'd do the same thing if I had a crazy cosmic form, though this is the only one I've ever had since I'm not your typical primordial. If I don't end up kicking the bucket down the line, I'll tell you about it." Blitz better move on to business.

"Only name I got is Blitz, mainly because I can't remember my own. As for why I'm here, the God of Time from my universe needs to make a small adjustment to Blaze's timeline, only because it sorta crosses with Poppy's now. Nothing crazy, just the time Poppy ended up here which would add more detail to what life was like in Flora. Also, if you can make it so she does remember the unaltered timeline that'd be cool. I'd rather her not we did that."

"That's about the only thing I really need your help on. Other than that, if you'd like I can help restore your flame back to its prime. I also know a guy who can hopefully make you a physical body to connect to so you can freely and safely check on things easily. Oh, and if you want, I can throw a few tests at Blaze to improve her skills. Nothing crazy or dangerous, though it'll push her. She could also land the Forger making her a divine weapon."

#Keeper of Dreams #Morpheus #The Great Flame of Life #Sol #Mysterious God #Blitz

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