#lol and you thought you were chaotic...you should know better

[saatorus]

golden — s . gojo x reader

synopsis — satoru gojo is your bestfriend and you are his. but sometimes, lines between friendship and something more seem to blur.

pairing — bestfriend! satoru x reader

word count — 10.6 k

warnings — making out, somewhat heavy petting, they take off each other's shirts but that's about it LOL, angst (not a sad ending though), reader feels unwanted at times.

Satoru Gojo.

How long have you known him? Your whole life, probably.

Scratch that. Not your whole life, but definitely the majority of it.

It started in preschool.

You were the quiet kid—the one who clung to the edges of the classroom, never quite fitting into the messy, chaotic whirlwind of children who seemed to make friends like it was the easiest thing in the world. You didn’t know how they did it—how they found each other in the noise, how they paired up so effortlessly, how they just knew where they belonged.

You, on the other hand, spent most of your time alone, stacking blocks in the corner, drawing quietly, or waiting for the teacher to tell you what to do next.

And then there was him.

Satoru Gojo, the loudest, brightest, most obnoxiously happy kid you’d ever met. He was the kind of child who ran instead of walked, who laughed at things no one else found funny, who always had a scrape on his knee but never seemed to care. He was larger than life, in a way that made your stomach twist—not quite jealousy, not quite admiration, just… confusion.

So when he plopped down next to you one day, completely uninvited, you weren’t sure what to do.

“Whatcha doin’?” he asked, peering at the tiny house you were building out of wooden blocks.

You shrugged. “Building.”

“Cool,” he said, grinning. “Can I help?”

You hesitated. You didn’t want help. But before you could answer, he was already reaching for the blocks, stacking them in ways that made no sense.

“You’re ruining it,” you mumbled, frowning.

He blinked at you, then back at the house. “Oh.” And then, without missing a beat, he knocked it over entirely.

You gasped, horrified.

He just laughed. “Now we can build it again!”

You decided, in that exact moment, that you hated him.

But Satoru Gojo was persistent.

He started following you around—not in a creepy way, just in an annoying way. Every time you thought you’d shaken him off, he’d pop up again like a bad penny, grinning that ridiculous grin of his.

Eventually, you just… let him.

It was easier than trying to get rid of him.

And somewhere along the way, he became your first real friend.

Your moms met not long after.

It happened at pickup time, when Satoru ran straight past his usual waiting spot to grab your hand instead. “Can I go to their house?” he asked his mom, all wide eyes and uncontainable energy. “Please, please, please?”

Your mom looked vaguely alarmed, having not expected to suddenly be responsible for another child, but Satoru’s mom just laughed.

And that was that.

Your friendship expanded beyond the preschool walls, spilling into weekends and playdates. Satoru’s house became as familiar as your own, with its too-big windows and fancy furniture that he absolutely wasn’t supposed to jump on (but did anyway). In return, he practically lived at your place, showing up unannounced, eating snacks straight from your pantry, making himself at home in a way that should have been irritating but never really was.

By the time middle school rolled around, he was less of a friend and more of a permanent fixture in your life.

“Okay, but listen,” Satoru said one afternoon, sprawled across your bedroom floor, Switch in hand. “If you had to pick one Digimon partner, like one to be stuck with for the rest of your life, who would it be?”

You barely looked up from your homework. “I don’t know. Agumon?”

“Agumon?” he repeated, scandalized. “That’s so basic. It’s like saying your favorite Pokémon is Pikachu.”

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s literally the main character’s Digimon.”

“Exactly!” He threw his hands up. “No originality. None. Zero. I expected better from you.”

“You asked me,” you pointed out, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah, but I thought you’d at least think about it.” He sighed, dramatically flopping onto his back. “I should’ve known. I’m best friends with a casual fan.”

“You should be grateful you have a best friend at all,” you shot back.

Satoru grinned, tilting his head toward you. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

At some point, he started wearing glasses. Not for fashion, not because he wanted to, but because years of staring at screens in the dark, playing Digimon and Pokémon and whatever else he was obsessed with at the time, had officially caught up to him.

“I’m blind,” he announced the day he got them, pushing them up the bridge of his nose. “Absolutely, totally blind.”

You snorted. “You’re, like, mildly nearsighted.”

“Same thing,” he said, already taking them off to examine them. “Do I look smarter with them?”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “Not really.”

“Rude.” He huffed, sliding them back on. “What about cooler?”

You threw a pillow at his face.

He laughed, catching it easily. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

—

Then came high school.

At first, nothing changed.

Satoru was still Satoru—loud, annoying, always in your space. He still showed up at your house unannounced, still texted you at odd hours about random nonsense, still sat next to you at lunch like it was a law of the universe. He was your best friend. Your person.

And for the first two years, you were inseparable.

There wasn’t a single moment where people saw one of you without the other. Satoru Gojo and you. You and Satoru Gojo. Always a pair. Whether it was cramming for exams together, getting kicked out of the arcade because he got too competitive, or spending Friday nights playing whatever old game he got obsessed with that month, he was your constant.

Until junior year.

It started small.

A casual comment in gym class about how fast he was. A joke from a teacher about how he should try out for the football team. A half-dare from some of the guys he barely knew.

And somehow, against all odds, Satoru Gojo became an athlete.

You didn’t think much of it at first. It was just another one of his phases, right? Like that time he swore he’d master speedrunning or decided he was going to learn five languages at once. But he was good—annoyingly good. Tall, fast, with ridiculous reflexes that made him impossible to catch on the field.

And people noticed.

By mid-season, he wasn’t just some new player—he was the star. The guy everyone knew, the guy who had a crowd around him in the hallways, the guy who got called out over the school speakers for game-winning plays.

The guy who no longer just belonged to you.

The first time you really felt it was when he showed up at your house one evening. That part was normal. He still did that, still made himself at home on your couch, still stole whatever snacks he wanted.

But something was different.

You were sprawled out on your bed, flipping through a book, when you glanced up and noticed.

“Where are your glasses?” you asked.

Satoru blinked, as if he had to think about it. “Oh. Right.” He shrugged, plopping down next to you. “They’re kind of a hazard in football, so I switched to contacts. Figured I’d just stick with them.”

You sat up, frowning. “But you hate contacts.”

He grinned, stretching lazily. “Not anymore.”

And just like that, something in your chest twisted.

It wasn’t just the glasses.

It was the way he stopped rambling about Digimon, the way he never asked if you wanted to rewatch old anime together anymore. It was the way his schedule started filling up with team hangouts and parties you weren’t invited to. It was the way people started looking at you differently when you were with him.

Because Satoru Gojo wasn’t just Satoru Gojo anymore.

He was Gojo.

Senior year was when it really started to hurt.

He still sat with you at lunch, still texted you silly memes at night, still acted like nothing had changed. But everything had.

He would often cancel on your invitations, his responses still typed in that absurd, unmistakable way of his—yet his excuses always seemed to follow a familiar pattern. It was always something urgent, something unavoidable: he had to rush off to practice, or there was a party he couldn’t miss, or someone needed his help and he simply couldn’t bring himself to say no. Each time, it felt like a rehearsed script, as though his priorities were perpetually elsewhere, leaving you to wonder if you’d ever truly make the cut.

Every time he plopped down next to you, people stared. Whispered.

“Why’s he sitting with her?”

“Shouldn't he sit with the rest of the team?”

“Is she, like, his childhood obligation or something?”

You weren’t an idiot. You heard it. You felt it.

And it made you snap.

“You don’t have to sit here, you know,” you muttered one day, keeping your eyes on your tray.

Satoru frowned. “What?”

“I said, you don’t have to sit here,” you repeated, sharper this time. “If you’d rather be with your actual friends—”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

You clenched your jaw, hating how defensive he sounded. “Nothing. Forget it.”

He didn’t forget it.

You fought about it. About how he didn’t get it, about how easy everything was for him, about how he could walk into any room and belong while you felt like you had to justify existing.

“You act like I abandoned you,” he snapped, voice low and frustrated. “But I’m right here. I’ve always been here.”

And you hated that he was somewhat right. 

So you patched things up. Not because you fully understood each other, but because you both wanted to. And by the time graduation rolled around, you could almost pretend things had gone back to the way they were.

But then came college.

And somehow, Satoru Gojo managed to be even more himself than ever.

Bigger. Louder. More impossible to ignore.

If high school had turned him into a star, then college made him a supernova.

He was everywhere—at parties, in clubs, on the field. Everyone knew him. Everyone wanted to be around him.

And somehow, despite it all, he still tried to keep you close.

“Come with me tonight,” he’d say, sending you an invite to some massive party. “It’ll be fun.”

You always said no.

At first, he laughed it off. But after a while, he started looking at you differently—like he noticed the way you avoided him now, the way you barely answered his texts, the way you pulled away whenever he tried to meet your eyes.

And one night, when he showed up outside your dorm after another party, half-drunk and grinning, you saw the exact moment that grin faltered.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. “Why would I be mad at you?” you replied, your tone lighter than you felt, as if you could brush the question aside with a casual shrug.

Satoru studied you intently, his glasses nowhere to be found, his hair disheveled from running his hands through it one too many times. His gaze was sharp, unrelenting. “Because you’re avoiding me,” he said, his voice steady but laced with something you couldn’t quite place—frustration, maybe, or hurt.

You forced a laugh, the sound brittle and unconvincing. “I’m not—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “Not you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, and your throat tightened. You looked away, unable to hold his gaze. “It’s just—” you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to piece together the thoughts that had been swirling in your mind for weeks. “You don’t need me anymore, Satoru. You have them. All your cool—I don’t know, jock and cheerleader friends, everyone else who likes you. You don’t have time for me now.”

He blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asked, his voice rising slightly, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. His hands gestured vaguely, as though trying to grasp the words you’d just thrown at him. “You think I’d just—replace you? Like it’s that easy? No, like seriously fucking explain to me what the absolute hell you mean?” He mutters out angrily, words slightly slurred.

The air between you felt heavy, charged with emotions neither of you had fully acknowledged until now. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat, leaving only silence hanging in the space between you.

You let out a bitter laugh. “It means I’m tired, Satoru. Tired of feeling like a ghost when I’m with you. Tired of pretending I’m okay with being the weird friend you keep around out of habit.”

Satoru opened his mouth, then closed it.

And for the first time in your life, you saw it—hurt. Real, genuine hurt in his stupidly bright eyes.

“You think that’s what this is?” he said, voice quieter now. “Habit?”

You didn’t answer.

Because if you did, you might have to admit that you missed him. That you missed the late-night anime marathons, the dumb inside jokes, the way he used to act like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

But you weren’t sure if that version of him still existed.

And you definitely weren’t sure if you had the courage to find out.

Satoru stared at you for a long time, the weight of your words settling between you like a stone. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, couldn’t decipher the way his lips pressed into a thin line, the way his fingers twitched at his sides like he wanted to reach for something—but wasn’t sure if he should.

Then, after what felt like forever, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

“I don’t get it,” he admitted, voice lower now, quieter, like he was afraid too many words would push you further away. “You’re acting like I left you behind, but I’m right here.”

You bit your lip. “You don’t see it.”

“Then make me see it,” he shot back, suddenly frustrated. “Because all I know is that one day we were fine, and the next, you started treating me like a stranger.”

That stung.

Because wasn’t that what he did first?

He wasn’t the one being looked at differently in high school when he sat next to you at lunch. He wasn’t the one feeling like a burden when you tagged along with him to something you thought was just going to be the two of you. He wasn’t the one realizing, little by little, that your best friend was outgrowing you.

But how could you even say that? How could you explain it in a way he’d understand?

“It’s not just one thing, Satoru,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… everything.”

Satoru exhaled sharply, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “That’s real specific.”

You rolled your eyes, the exhaustion settling deep into your bones. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me.”

You hesitated. He looked serious, standing there under the dim glow of the dorm hallway lights, arms crossed, gaze steady. But what would it change? Telling him wouldn’t undo the years of growing distance, wouldn’t erase the fact that you felt like you didn’t fit in his world anymore.

Maybe it was better to let it go.

So you shook your head, stepping back toward your door. “It’s late. You should go.”

Satoru let out a quiet, frustrated laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fine,” he said, jaw tightening. “Run away, then. You’re good at that.”

That hurt more than it should have.

But you didn’t argue. You just stepped inside, closed the door, and pretended the ache in your chest wasn’t real.

It got worse after that.

You thought maybe that argument would clear the air—that he’d finally see why you had been keeping your distance. But if anything, it only made things weirder.

Satoru still texted you, but not as much. He still invited you to things, but there was something almost hesitant in the way he asked, like he was bracing for rejection. And when you turned him down (because of course you did), his replies became shorter, more clipped.

Then, one night, he stopped asking altogether.

You didn’t realize how much you had come to expect it—his name popping up on your phone, his easy confidence that somehow, eventually, you’d say yes. But when Friday night came and went without a text, something inside you twisted.

Maybe this was what you wanted. Maybe it was easier this way.

So why did it feel so awful?

A week later, you ran into him by accident.

Literally.

You were coming out of the campus library, arms full of books, when someone rounded the corner too fast and nearly tackled you.

“Oh, shit—sorry—”

You looked up, heart dropping to your stomach.

Satoru.

Your hands clenched around the books, pulse stuttering. It had only been a week, but he already looked different—like he’d fully settled into his role as that guy. Loose hoodie, messy hair, the faint scent of cologne and something vaguely alcoholic clinging to him.

You swallowed hard. “Hey.”

His expression flickered—just for a second. “Hey.”

It was awkward. Awkward. When had things ever been awkward between you?

You shifted your grip on your books. “Uh—sorry. Didn’t mean to—”

“Yeah, no, my bad,” he cut in quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Silence stretched between you. Too long, too tense.

Then, suddenly, his eyes dropped to the stack in your arms. “Of course you’re carrying, like, ten books at once.”

It was such a Satoru thing to say that, for a second, you almost smiled.

Then his gaze flicked up to yours, something softer in his expression, and your breath hitched.

And then—

A voice called his name from across the quad. Some guy you didn’t know, waving him over. Satoru hesitated. Then, with a small exhale, he gave you a lopsided grin. “Guess I’ll see you around.”

He didn’t wait for a response before turning away.

And you stood there, watching him go, feeling like something important had just slipped through your fingers.

Days passed. Then a week. Then two.

And for the first time in years, Satoru Gojo wasn’t part of your life anymore.

No more texts. No more unannounced visits. No more standing at your dorm door at 2 AM, grinning like he belonged there.

You had wanted this, hadn’t you? You had wanted the space, the distance, the freedom to not be caught in his orbit.

But now, without him, everything just felt… quiet. You hated it.

You missed him.

—

It was months before you and Satoru spoke again.

At first, you kept waiting for him to text you, to pop up at your door with some stupid excuse, to send you a meme like nothing had happened. But days passed. Then weeks. Then months. And Satoru Gojo—your best friend since childhood—became just another person you saw in passing.

Sometimes, you spotted him across the quad, surrounded by his usual crowd. Sometimes, you caught glimpses of him at the library, laughing too loudly with friends who barely even acknowledged your existence.

And it hurt.

More than you wanted to admit, it hurt.

But you told yourself this was how things were meant to be. That he had moved on, and you needed to do the same. That whatever had existed between you belonged to another lifetime, one where you weren’t the quiet girl who spent her nights buried in books, and he wasn’t the golden boy who belonged to the whole damn world.

You thought you were doing fine. You thought you were getting used to it.

Until the professor announced lab partners.

The moment your name was called, a small, high-pitched voice cut through the classroom.

“Uh… who?”

Laughter rippled through the room. You felt your face go hot, every muscle in your body locking up as the girl—some blonde from Satoru’s usual group—looked around in exaggerated confusion.

It was humiliating.

Because she wasn’t just some random classmate. She was someone who had spent actual time with Satoru. Who had probably been to his dorm, who had probably sat next to him at parties, who had probably heard him talk about people in his life.

And she had no idea who you were.

You didn’t even dare look at Satoru. Didn’t want to see his reaction. Didn’t want to see whether he’d step in, whether he’d say anything—

But he didn’t.

He didn’t laugh, but he didn’t correct her either.

Didn’t turn to acknowledge you. Didn’t make some joke to brush past it. Didn’t do anything at all.

Just stared at the table like he was somewhere else entirely.

And that, somehow, was worse than anything.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral as you scribbled down the details of the assignment. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t a big deal. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

—

Working with Satoru again was… weird.

Not just because of everything that had happened between you, but because neither of you seemed to know how to be around each other anymore.

Gone were the days of effortless conversation, of teasing remarks and stolen fries and arguments about Digimon evolutions. Now, everything felt stilted, careful, like you were two strangers trying to relearn the language of each other.

Sometimes, it almost felt normal.

Like when you sat across from each other in the library, bent over research notes, and he’d randomly hum the Sailor Moon theme song under his breath. Or when he muttered something stupid under his breath about the professor’s handwriting, and you nearly choked on your water holding back a laugh.

But then, inevitably, the moment would pass.

Because girls from his usual group would come over, acting like you weren’t even there, their voices too sweet as they draped themselves over the back of his chair.

“Satoru, are you coming to the party on Friday?”

“Satoru, when are you free? We should all hang out.”

And he’d always answer them. Always give some noncommittal shrug or a lazy smirk. But you could tell—even if no one else seemed to notice—that he wasn’t really there. That when he looked at them, he wasn’t listening.

And yet, he never told them to leave. Never told them that you were working. Never acknowledged you at all when they were around. So, after a while, you just stopped expecting him to.

And then, one day, you got sick.

Not just a little sick. Not just a sore throat or a cough you could push through. No, you were the kind of sick that made your whole body ache, that sent shivers down your spine no matter how many blankets you curled under.

But it was a project day. And despite everything, you still had responsibilities. So, begrudgingly, you shot Satoru a text.

Come to my dorm. I can’t go out today.

He didn’t reply right away. But twenty minutes later, there was a knock at your door. You barely managed to drag yourself over, your vision swimming slightly as you opened it.

And there he was.

Looking the same as always—messy white hair, sharp blue eyes, hoodie slung over his frame like he’d just rolled out of bed.

The only difference? The way his expression immediately dropped the second he saw you.

“Shit,” he muttered. “You look awful.”

You groaned, stepping aside to let him in. “Thanks for the confidence boost.” He kicked off his shoes, setting his bag down before eyeing you carefully. “Have you been drinking water? Eating enough? D’you eat somethin’ you weren’t meant to eat?”

You rolled your eyes. “How am I supposed to know, I just woke up sick as hell.”

Instead of a snarky remark, Satoru just sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Then, before you could protest, he was guiding you toward the bed, nudging you to sit.

“You’re not working like this,” he said firmly. “Lie down.”

“I’m fine—”

“Lie down.”

You hesitated.

This wasn’t him. This wasn’t the version of Satoru you had gotten used to in the past year. The one who was always a little distant, a little out of reach. This was… him.

The Satoru you had known since childhood. The one who always knew when you were exhausted, even when you swore you weren’t. The one who used to push his fries onto your plate when you were too stressed to eat.

The one who, for the first time in months, was looking at you like you were still his best friend. So, slowly, you lay back down.

Satoru exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll get you some tea or something. You have any?” You nodded weakly. He moved toward your desk, rummaging through your stash of instant tea packets like he had done it a million times before.

And for the first time in a long time, the silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was familiar.

Safe.

And even though you felt like death warmed over, for the first time in months, you didn’t feel so alone.

—

From that day on, something shifted.

It wasn’t immediate, and it wasn’t dramatic, but it was there—a quiet, almost imperceptible change in the way things were between you and Satoru. The library, once the default meeting spot for your project sessions, was suddenly off the table. He stopped suggesting it altogether, and at first, you didn’t think much of it. But then, one afternoon, he showed up at your dorm unannounced, arms loaded with snacks and a careless shrug when you stared at him, bewildered.

“Library’s too loud,” he said, brushing past you and stepping inside like he owned the place. “Figured we’d get more done here.”

You didn’t question it. Not then, and not a week later when you found yourself in his dorm instead, sitting cross-legged on his bed while he scrolled through research notes on his laptop. 

“Library’s too crowded,” he explained that time, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

After that, it just became… routine. Your project meetings moved from the library to your dorms, back and forth, as if by some unspoken agreement. The shift was gradual, almost imperceptible, but it was there. You still weren’t quite friends again—not the way you used to be, back when everything was easy and uncomplicated. There was still a careful distance between you, an unspoken awareness of all the time that had been lost, all the moments that had slipped through your fingers. But things weren’t cold anymore. They weren’t distant.

Satoru filled the quiet moments with mindless chatter, the way he always had. He teased you about your typos, stole your pens when you weren’t looking, and groaned dramatically whenever you made him do too much reading. Slowly, bit by bit, the pieces of your friendship started falling back into place. Not completely. Not yet. But enough that sometimes, when the two of you were laughing over something stupid, it almost felt like the past year had never happened.

Then, one day, everything cracked open.

It was late—much later than usual—and the two of you were sitting in his dorm, textbooks and notebooks sprawled across his desk. You were both exhausted, the kind of tired that made your eyes burn and your thoughts sluggish. Satoru was absentmindedly flipping through one of your old notebooks when he suddenly snorted.

“Oh my God.”

You blinked up at him, too tired to muster more than a mumbled, “What?”

He turned the notebook toward you, pointing at a messy doodle in the margin. It was a Digimon—a rough, scribbled outline that barely resembled anything recognizable. But something about it made him grin, leaning back in his chair like he’d just uncovered a hidden treasure.

“Damn,” he said, shaking his head. “Feels like a whole different lifetime ago.”

And then, in a voice so casual, so familiar, he added—

“Remember when we made a whole ass PowerPoint ranking every Digimon evolution?”

That was it.

That was what broke you.

It was so stupid—just a random memory, an offhand remark. But the second he said it, something in your chest twisted violently. You clenched your jaw, swallowing hard, telling yourself not to be dramatic. But then your vision blurred, and suddenly, you were crying.

“Oh—oh shit.”

Satoru’s chair scraped against the floor as he shot up, eyes wide with panic. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

You barely managed to shake your head, your hands gripping your knees as you tried to steady yourself. But the tears kept coming, and then—through the hiccups, through the pathetic, trembling gasps—you broke.

You clenched your jaw, trying to hold it together, but the tears spilled over anyway. Your chest heaved as you choked out the words, “I miss you. I—God, Satoru, I miss you.”

His face went slack, his usual confidence faltering as he stared at you, stunned. For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak, like he was trying to process what you’d just said. Then his voice came out quiet, almost fragile. “What are you talking about? I’m right here.”

You shook your head, your hands gripping your knees so tightly your knuckles turned white. “No, you’re not. Not really. You’ve been… gone. For so long. And I—” Your voice broke, and you hated how weak you sounded, how raw and exposed you felt. “I don’t want to be without you anymore. I don’t—I don’t want you to hate me.”

Satoru’s breath hitched, and for the first time, you saw his composure crack. His eyes glistened, and he blinked rapidly, like he was trying to fight it, but a single tear slipped down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly, his voice trembling as he muttered, “You’re so fucking stupid. How could I ever hate you?”

You let out a shaky laugh, but it came out more like a sob. “I don’t know. You just—you stopped talking to me. You stopped needing me. And I thought… I thought you didn’t care anymore.”

He shook his head, his hands reaching out like he wanted to touch you but wasn’t sure if he should. “I care. I care so much it’s stupid. I just—” He paused, his voice cracking. “I didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t know how to come back after everything. It felt like you were pushing me away.”

“You could’ve just— I don’t even know what to say,” you hiccuped, your voice barely audible. “You could’ve just… stayed. I don’t know— like yell at me, tell me that you care for me or something. I wish I wasn’t so stubborn about not speaking to you either, but god, maybe I just wanted you to like— tell me how much you needed me. Because it never felt like you did anymore.”

Satoru’s face crumpled, and he let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping like the weight of everything had finally caught up to him. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice raw. “I’m so sorry for leaving you behind. I didn’t mean to. I just… I didn’t know how to be around you without feeling like I’d already ruined everything.”

You looked up at him, your vision blurred by tears. “You didn’t ruin anything. I just… I needed you. And you weren’t there. And really, it was my fault too, for not communicating—”

He cuts you off, his own tears falling freely now, though he didn’t seem to care. “I know. But I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how to fix it. I— I should’ve been there for you more often because God, life without you is just so horrible, and I’ve been so horrible— ”

“You’re fixing it now,” you said, your voice trembling. “Just… don’t leave me again. Please.”

He let out a choked laugh, his hands finally reaching for you, pulling you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you tightly, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. “I won’t,” he murmured into your hair. “I won’t. I promise.”

You buried your face in his shirt, your hands clutching the fabric as you cried. His body shook against yours, and you realized he was crying too—quietly, almost like he was trying to hide it, but you could feel the way his breath hitched, the way his hands trembled as they held you.

“I missed you too,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Every fucking day. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

You didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, because the weight of everything—the months of silence, the distance, the ache of missing him—was finally crashing down on you. But for the first time in what felt like forever, it wasn’t a bad kind of crash. It was relief. It was the feeling of something broken finally starting to heal.

Satoru’s hand came up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he held you closer. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice firm despite the tears. “Not again. Not ever.”

You nodded against his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt. “Okay,” you whispered. “Okay.”

It took a long time for the tears to stop, for the sobs to quiet into shaky breaths. But even when they did, neither of you moved. Satoru kept holding you, his arms tight around you, his chin resting on the top of your head. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe. You felt like you were home.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were red and puffy, but he was smiling—a small, tentative smile that made your chest ache in the best way. “You’re stuck with me now, like y’know, the annoying kid who’d follow you around as kids,” he said, his voice soft. “Just so you know.”

You laughed, the sound watery but genuine. “Good. Because I miss that Satoru, and I’m not letting you go again either.”

He grinned, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Deal.”

And just like that, something shifted. The distance between you closed, the cracks in your friendship slowly mending. It wasn’t perfect—not yet—but it was a start. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like everything was going to be okay.

—

After that night, Satoru made it a point to talk to you during class.

It was weird at first—uncomfortable, even. Because now, whenever he sat beside you, people stared. People whispered. But Satoru didn’t care. And after a while, neither did you.

Then, one day, it happened.

You were in the middle of a conversation when one of the girls from his usual group strolled up, her friends lingering just behind her.

“Dude,” she drawled, arms crossed. “We’re waiting for you.”

Satoru didn’t acknowledge her.

She huffed, looking at you for the first time.

“Who even are you?” she said, wrinkling her nose.

Silence.

Then—calmly, lazily—Satoru turned to her.

“Fuck off.”

Her expression twisted. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, resting his chin in his hand. “We’re talking.”

You swore you saw steam coming out of her ears.

She spun on her heel, storming off in a flurry of designer fabric, and Satoru just turned back to you like nothing had happened.

You blinked at him, stunned. “That was… aggressive.”

He shrugged. “Don’t like her.”

You snorted. “You used to hang out with her all the time.”

“Yeah, well.” He gave you a pointed look. “I was an idiot.”

And maybe it was the way he said it. Maybe it was the certainty in his voice, the way he leaned in just a little closer like this—this—was what mattered.

But for the first time in a long time, you felt something settle inside you. Something warm. Something steady. Something that told you, without a doubt—

Satoru Gojo wasn’t leaving you behind again.

—

It happened slowly.

At first, it was just the way things had been before. You and Satoru were best friends again—finally, properly—and you were making up for lost time.

You sat together in lectures. You ate together between classes. You spent hours holed up in each other’s dorms, either working in silence or complaining about whatever god-awful assignment was due next.

And it was good. It was easy.

But then—then—things started to shift.

It was subtle at first.

A hand brushing against yours for just a little too long. The warmth of his body pressed against yours in a too-crowded study session, his breath fanning over your ear as he leaned in, muttering something you could barely focus on.

The way his eyes lingered when he thought you weren’t looking.

The way yours lingered, too.

—

It was a Friday night, and you were at Satoru’s dorm, lying on his bed while he sat at his desk, spinning lazily in his chair.

“I don’t wanna study,” he whined, stretching his arms over his head. “Let’s do something fun.”

You turned a page in your book, unimpressed. “And what exactly do you define as ‘fun’?”

“Dunno,” he mused. “Wanna go for a drive?”

You sighed. “Satoru, it’s almost midnight.”

“And?” He grinned, kicking his feet up onto his desk. “C’mon, live a little.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose. “You just don’t want to do your readings.”

“Obviously.” He snorted. “But also, I feel like getting snacks.”

You hesitated, torn.

Then, finally—

“Fine.”

His eyes lit up. “Knew you’d cave.”

You rolled your eyes, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

—

It was raining by the time you got to the convenience store.

Not heavily—just a light drizzle, enough to make the streets shimmer under the streetlights.

Satoru grabbed half the store’s supply of junk food while you rolled your eyes, paying for your single bottle of tea. Outside, the air was cool, the pavement slick beneath your feet.

“I’m driving,” you said as he dug through his bag of snacks.

“Nah.” He grinned, tossing a chip into his mouth. “I got this.”

You gave him a look. “You almost crashed last time.”

He scoffed. “That was a red light, not a crash.”

“You ran the red light.”

“Meow.”

You cringe, snatching the keys from his pocket. “Oh my god. Absolutely not.”

Satoru laughed but let you.

And for some reason, that made your stomach flip.

—

Back at your dorm, Satoru made himself at home—because of course he did.

He sprawled across your bed, one arm tucked behind his head, the other mindlessly tossing a snack in the air and catching it with his mouth.

“You should be paying me rent at this point,” you muttered, shutting the door behind you.

“I would,” he said, grinning, “but I’m broke.”

You huffed, settling onto the bed beside him. “What, your trust fund isn’t enough?”

He smirked. “Nah, gotta save that for important things.”

You rolled your eyes. “Right. Like overpriced sunglasses.”

“Exactly.”

You shook your head, reaching for the remote.

And then—a shift.

Satoru turned his head to look at you, and when you met his gaze, something in his expression softened.

“Hey,” he murmured.

You swallowed. “Hey.”

He reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Your breath hitched.

His fingers lingered at your temple, just for a moment. His touch was warm, featherlight.

You exhaled, heartbeat stuttering.

And then—just as quickly—he pulled back, flopping onto his back with a dramatic groan.

“What should we watch?” he asked, stretching like nothing had happened.

You exhaled.

Your chest felt tight.

“Uh.” You cleared your throat. “Dunno.”

And just like that, the moment passed.

—

But the tension didn’t. If anything, it only got worse.

It was in the way his hand brushed your waist when he reached past you.

The way he sat just a little too close, his knee knocking against yours under the desk.

The way his fingers trailed across your wrist when he grabbed something from you, his touch slow, deliberate.

And—God—it was in the way he looked at you.

Like you were something he couldn’t quite figure out.

Like he was waiting for something.

Like he wanted something.

And maybe—just maybe—so did you.

—

By the time second year rolled around, you weren’t sure what you and Satoru were anymore. Still best friends, technically. Still Satoru and you. But there was something else, too.

Something unspoken.

Something fragile and complicated and new. And neither of you dared to acknowledge it.

 —

The weather had started to change, the air cooler as autumn crept in. You could feel it in your bones—when the days shortened, and the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows. It made everything seem a little softer, like the world had gone quiet just to give you and Satoru a chance to breathe, to figure things out.

You were both sitting in the small, somewhat neglected corner of the university park, surrounded by towering trees with golden leaves fluttering to the ground. You were both on the grass, sitting close enough that your shoulders brushed whenever you shifted. It was the kind of quiet afternoon you could’ve stayed in forever, and maybe that was why you weren’t quite ready to let it end.

Satoru stretched, his arms reaching high above his head. “Ugh, my back’s killing me. Who knew studying could be so physically demanding?” He rolled his shoulders, groaning dramatically.

You shot him a sidelong glance, your lips curling into a smile despite yourself. “I think that’s just you, Satoru. You’re a professional at making everything harder than it is.”

He shot you a grin, a smug little thing, like he knew you couldn’t resist teasing him back. “Oh, please, I make things look easy. It's a gift.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, the great Satoru Gojo.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, catching the teasing tone in your voice. “That’s right. You should be honored to sit next to greatness.” He nudged your shoulder with his, the warmth of his body spilling into yours. The touch was light but undeniable. Familiar.

You chuckled, nudging him back. “I don’t know if I’d call you ‘great’ when you still lose to me in Mario Kart every time.”

Satoru gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like you’d just struck a mortal wound. “You—I’m just going easy on you because I don’t want you to feel bad. I’m a gentleman like that.”

You could hear the playful teasing in his voice, but the way he looked at you—his eyes crinkling at the corners with that boyish grin—felt like something deeper.

“I don’t need you to go easy on me,” you teased, leaning in just a bit too much, your voice soft. “I’m pretty good on my own, thanks.”

That was when you noticed it—the way his eyes flickered for a second, his lips curving down ever so slightly before he caught himself. His gaze held yours for a second longer than normal, and for the first time in a while, you both just stayed there. Not a word. No jokes or banter. Just the space between you thick with unspoken things.

Satoru was the first to look away, clearing his throat. “Anyway, want me to go grab us something from that little café over there? You could use some food if you’re gonna keep up with me.”

You hesitated. He’s back to that again. The Satoru who was always making sure you were fed, always thinking ahead for both of you, even when he had to act like nothing was different.

But you didn’t want to ruin the moment, not now. Not when everything felt right.

“No, I’m good,” you said softly, shaking your head. “But... thanks.”

Satoru studied you for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly, before he dropped his shoulders with a sigh. “I swear, you’re impossible.” But even as he said it, his hand reached out—just a quick pat of his large hand atop yours. The briefest of contact, and for a moment, the world paused around you.

The warmth of his hand lingered even after it was gone, and you could feel your chest tightening, your pulse picking up. You didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to.

And for the rest of the afternoon, you stayed like that. Silent. Comfortable in the space between you, letting the quiet be enough. But you both knew it wasn’t just the park that made the air heavy—it was everything unsaid that clung to it.

Eventually, the sun began to dip low on the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched across the grass. You sighed, looking up at Satoru. “We should probably get back soon. It’s getting late.”

He glanced at his phone, then at you, and nodded. “Yeah. You’re right.” He paused. “Hey, you want to walk with me to my dorm? I’m not ready to head back alone yet.”

It wasn’t even a question, not really. But you could feel his eyes on you, like he was waiting for your answer to matter just as much as the offer itself.

You nodded, and the tension between you both lifted just a little as you both stood, stretching out the stiffness in your legs. “Sure, let’s go.”

As you and Satoru walked side by side, the night air crisp and cool against your skin, the silence between you felt heavier than before. It wasn’t uncomfortable—quite the opposite. It was charged, like something waiting to tip over the edge. Every step you took together seemed to draw you closer, and you could feel the warmth of his body beside you, even in the chill of the evening.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, his hand brushed against yours again. This time, neither of you pulled away. The tips of his fingers grazed your knuckles—light, tentative. Like he was testing the waters. Like he was waiting for you to stop him.

But you didn’t.

You swallowed, trying to focus on the rhythmic crunch of leaves beneath your feet rather than the way your skin tingled where he touched you. It was such a small thing, barely even a touch, but it sent your heart skittering against your ribs. And when you finally dared to glance up at him, Satoru was already looking at you, his lips curled into something between amusement and something softer, something unreadable.

“What?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

Satoru tilted his head, his silver-white hair catching in the glow of the streetlights. “Nothing.”

A lie.

Because there was something—so much something—wrapped up in the way his eyes flickered over you, lingering for just a second too long on your lips before he looked ahead again.

The air between you felt tight, humming with something unsaid.

You were nearing his dorm now, the pathway growing quieter, fewer students passing by. It was just the two of you, footsteps slowing, the night pressing in close.

Satoru exhaled a slow breath, and then—without thinking, or maybe because he had been thinking about it too much—he reached out again. This time, his fingers laced through yours, not just a brush, not just an accident. A deliberate touch, a quiet declaration.

Your breath caught, and you felt him squeeze—just slightly, just enough.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice low, like he wasn’t sure he should be asking.

You nodded, your mouth suddenly dry. “Yeah. You?”

His lips twitched, like he wanted to smirk, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Dunno,” he said, squeezing your fingers again. “You’re kind of distracting.”

Your stomach flipped, heat crawling up your neck. “Oh, I’m distracting? That’s rich, coming from you.”

He huffed a laugh, the sound warm, teasing. “No, I mean it.” He stopped walking, tugging you gently by the hand so you turned to face him. “You ever notice how quiet things get when it’s just us?”

You blinked, your throat tightening. “Satoru—”

His free hand lifted, his fingertips barely skimming your jaw. He wasn’t quite touching, just there, like he was still giving you room to pull away. Like he wasn’t sure if he should close the space between you.

And God, you wanted him to.

Your pulse pounded in your ears. It would be so easy. Just one step closer. Just one little push, and—

Satoru exhaled sharply through his nose, his hand falling away, his fingers untangling from yours. He took a step back, running a hand through his hair. “Never mind,” he muttered, laughing under his breath like he was scolding himself. “Forget I said anything.”

Your fingers twitched at your sides, the absence of his touch making your skin feel cold.

“No,” you said, firmer than you expected. “I don’t want to.”

His head snapped up, eyes wide, startled. “You don’t?”

You took a breath, steeling yourself. “No.”

Satoru stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a low chuckle, he shook his head. “You really are impossible.”

And then, before you could overthink it, before you could talk yourself out of it—you stepped forward, pressing your palm against his chest, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his hoodie. His breath hitched, his body going still under your touch.

The silence stretched again, thick and unyielding.

“Say it,” you whispered.

His hands hovered at your sides, not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. “Say what?”

You looked up at him, unflinching. “Whatever it is you’re holding back.”

Satoru exhaled, a sharp, unsteady thing. His hands finally settled on your waist, hesitant at first—then firmer, more certain. His fingers pressed into your hips, grounding himself in the feel of you.

And then, his voice—low, raw, real.

“I don’t want to be just your best friend anymore.”

Your breath caught.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The words hung between you, heavy and dangerous and everything.

Then, Satoru leaned in, his nose just barely brushing yours, his lips hovering so close. His breath was warm, and when he spoke again, it was barely a whisper.

“I want more.”

And then, finally—finally—you closed the space between you.

The kiss wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t shy. It was hungry, desperate, like the both of you had been waiting too long to do this, like neither of you wanted to waste another second. His lips crashed against yours, and you gasped against his mouth as he backed you up against the door of his dorm, hands gripping your waist tighter like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, tugging him closer, feeling the heat of him seep into you. His body pressed against yours, and the air between you turned thick with something intoxicating, something impossible to stop now that it had started. The small, breathless noises you made against his mouth only seemed to push him further, his fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt, thumbs brushing over your bare skin, warm and firm and so much.

The door behind you dug into your back, and for a fleeting moment, a thought broke through the haze—what if someone sees us?

As if he could read your mind, Satoru groaned against your lips, impatient, and without breaking the kiss, he reached behind you, fumbling for the handle. The second the door swung open, he practically pulled you inside with him, kicking it shut before his lips were on yours again, urgent, demanding.

You barely had a second to catch your breath before he was guiding you backwards, hands never leaving your body, mouth never straying too far from yours. You stumbled together, his grip firm, his kisses growing deeper, hotter, more insistent as you moved through the dark room.

By the time you reached the bedroom, your pulse was a wild, unsteady thing, your skin burning under his touch.

His mouth was warm and soft against yours, kissing your lips like he was afraid you were gonna disappear. Using his strength to his advantage, he manhandled you into his lap on the bed, while he sat up against the headboard. His tongue prodded into your mouth experimentally, and when you obliged him entry, he swirled it around with yours before licking into the cavern of your mouth, tasting you as if you were one of those sickeningly sweet delicacies he enjoyed.

His hands roamed from your waist to your hips, to your thighs before stopping hesitantly over your ass, to which you dragged them down until he was squeezing and kneading the supple flesh with his hands, mouth slotted against yours.

You pulled back slightly, gasping for air, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. But Satoru didn’t let you go far. His hands were firm on your ass, keeping you anchored to him as his lips trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and you tilted your head to give him better access, your fingers tangling in his hair.

His mouth moved lower, pressing hot, lingering kisses along the column of your neck. Each touch of his lips against your skin felt like fire, and you couldn’t suppress the soft moan that escaped your throat. His hands slid up your sides, his touch firm but gentle, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. One hand came to rest on the small of your back, pulling you closer, while the other cupped the curve of your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“Satoru,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, but he didn’t respond—not with words, anyway. Instead, he captured your lips again in a desperate, hungry kiss that left you dizzy. His tongue slid against yours, and you melted into him, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance as the world around you seemed to fade away.

His hands roamed your body with a kind of urgency, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. One moment they were in your hair, the next sliding down your back, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you. You could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt, and you tugged at it impatiently, wanting—needing—to feel his skin against yours.

He broke the kiss long enough to yank his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before his lips were on yours again, more insistent this time. His hands found the hem of your top, and you lifted your arms without hesitation, letting him pull it off and discard it somewhere on the floor. The cool air of the room hit your skin, but it did nothing to quell the heat building inside you.

Satoru’s hands were everywhere—tracing the curve of your waist, skimming over your ribs, brushing the underside of your breast under your bra. You arched into him, chasing the friction, desperate for more.

His mouth found yours again, urgent and unrelenting, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, deliberate stroke that left you breathless. He kissed you like he wanted to consume you, like he didn’t care about anything else but this—you.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, your breaths mingling, heavy and uneven. Every kiss, every touch, every press of his hands left you dizzy, lost in the haze of heat and want.

And when he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide and his lips swollen from kissing, you swore you’d never seen him look at anything the way he was looking at you now.

Like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

Both of your chests were heaving, your own shirt flung on the bed somewhere and Satoru’s completely off and forgotten somewhere on the floor. His hands were still settled on your waist, thumbs tracing slow circles over your heated skin. His head lolled back against the couch, a lazy, satisfied grin stretching across his lips.

“Damn,” he exhaled, voice slightly hoarse. “I think I saw the pearly gates for a second there.”

You scoffed, giving his shoulder a weak shove, while reaching for your shirt. “Dramatic.”

He only laughed, the sound bright and breathless. “I mean it, nerd. Who knew you had it in you?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, fingers curling against his shoulders. “Satoru.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

His grin widened, but he obeyed—for all of two seconds. Then, with a teasing glint in his eyes, he waggled his brows. “You know, we should really make this a regular thing. Like, for health purposes. I feel like I just did an entire cardio session.”

You smacked his arm. “Oh my god.”

He gasped in mock offense, pressing a hand to his bare chest. “See? That was uncalled for. Here I am, trying to improve my well-being, and you’re—”

“Satoru.” You fixed him with a look, but the corners of your lips twitched. He was impossible.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating under your fingertips. “Okay, okay, I’ll be good.” His grip on your waist tightened slightly, as if to ground himself—or maybe to keep you exactly where you were. “But… just so we’re clear, this isn’t, like, a one-time thing, right?”

You blinked, his sudden shift in tone catching you off guard. His usual playfulness was still there, but there was something else beneath it—something genuine, something careful.

You swallowed. “What do you mean?”

His gaze flickered over your face, searching. “I mean…” He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck before looking at you again. “I was serious, you know. About liking you. More than a friend.”

Your breath hitched. “You were?”

Satoru scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Obviously. You think I just let anyone straddle me and—”

You smacked his chest. “Can you not ruin the moment?”

He caught your wrist before you could pull away, lacing his fingers through yours. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, quieter. “I was serious,” he repeated. “I am serious.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “I like you, and I want to do this properly.”

Your heart thudded against your ribs. “Properly?”

He nodded, suddenly looking almost shy. “Like… an actual date. Multiple dates. Boyfriend privileges. All that cute shit.” His lips curled into a lopsided grin. “So, what do you say?”

Your stomach flipped, warmth spreading through your chest. “You’re actually asking me out?”

Satoru huffed a laugh. “Well, yeah. What, you thought I’d just kiss you senseless and leave you hanging?”

You bit your lip, pretending to think. “I dunno. You are kind of a menace.”

His brows shot up. “A menace?”

You giggled, and he groaned, tightening his grip on your waist. “Okay, that’s it, you’re legally required to say yes now.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile stretching across your lips. “Yes, Satoru. I’ll go out with you.”

His face lit up, and before you could say anything else, he was kissing you again, arms wrapping fully around your waist. He shifted, rolling you onto the bed so he was hovering over you, his weight pressed deliciously against yours.

“Guess that makes you my girlfriend now,” he murmured against your lips. “Which means—” His fingers trailed down your side, teasing. “—I get unlimited make-out privileges.”

You huffed a laugh. “You’re so weird.”

“Would you like it if I said sex privileges too?”

“I’m gonna seriously hurt you—“

Satoru only smirked before cutting you off with another kiss.

—

A few months into dating Satoru, you realised three things.

One, he had absolutely no concept of personal space. If he was near you, he was touching you—whether it was throwing an arm over your shoulder, draping himself across your lap, or trapping you against a wall just to say hi like a complete menace.

Two, he was shamelessly, overwhelmingly, ridiculously obsessed with you. If he wasn’t texting you, he was calling. If he wasn’t calling, he was physically finding you. And if he couldn’t find you, he’d send a stupidly dramatic voice memo about how he was “perishing” without you.

And three, he was always teasing. Always testing his limits, pushing your buttons, flashing that damn smug grin whenever you got flustered.

Like right now.

“I think you should stay over.”

You blinked up at him from where you were curled up on his bed, wearing one of his hoodies that was way too big for you. “I am staying over.”

Satoru huffed, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow. “No, I mean, like, actually stay over. Move in.”

You snorted. “Satoru.”

“What? I’m serious.” He nudged your knee with his own. “Just think about it. That trust fund has enough money— actually maybe more— for an apartment near college. We basically live together anyway.”

“Not even close.”

He scoffed. “Oh, please. You leave clothes here, you steal my hoodies—”

“They’re practically dresses on me.”

“—and you’re here more than you’re at your own place.”

“That’s a lie.”

Satoru gasped dramatically. “Oh, so I’m imagining you in my bed every night?”

Your face warmed, but you shot him a glare. “You’re exaggerating.”

He only grinned, scooting closer until your noses nearly brushed. “You love sleeping here,” he drawled. “You love my bed, you love my cuddles, you love this d—”

You smacked a hand over his mouth, but it barely muffled his muffled laughter.

“I swear to God, Satoru—”

Before you could finish, he grabbed your wrist and flipped you onto your back, caging you beneath him in one smooth motion. His weight was just enough to make your breath hitch, his silver lashes casting shadows over sharp blue eyes.

“You love me,” he finished, his voice dipping lower, teasing, smug.

Your stomach flipped.

“…Debatable,” you muttered.

Satoru barked out a laugh. “Debatable?” He leaned down, nuzzling into your neck as his hands slid under his hoodie, warm palms settling against your waist. “You’re literally in my bed wearing my clothes right now.”

Your breath stuttered as he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss just below your ear.

“Admit it,” he murmured. “You’re obsessed with me.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, your fingers gripping his bare shoulders. “Satoru—”

���I mean, I don’t blame you.” He grinned against your skin, pressing another kiss, this one lower. “I am insanely hot.”

You groaned. “You ruin everything.”

Satoru laughed, bright and breathless, before rolling over, pulling you fully on top of him with ease. His hands never left your waist, fingertips dancing over your skin in slow, lazy patterns.

Then he suddenly reached behind him, grabbed something off the nightstand, and slid his glasses onto his face.

You blinked. “I thought you preferred contacts now?”

Satoru hummed, adjusting them slightly as he gazed up at you. “Yeah, but I dunno…” His lips curled into a small, lopsided smile. “You always liked me better in these, didn’t you?”

Your breath hitched slightly. He wasn’t wrong—there was something about the way his glasses framed his face, how they softened him just a little, made him look more like the Satoru you’d known before he became everyone else’s.

“…You’re so full of yourself,” you muttered.

His grin widened. “And yet, you’re still staring.”

You scoffed, reaching up to pluck them off his face, but he caught your wrist, tugging you down until your noses brushed.

“Admit it,” he murmured. “You like me better like this.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

“I like you anyway,” you admitted, barely above a whisper.

Something flickered in his eyes—something soft, something warm—before his grin turned teasing again. “Good,” he said, rolling you onto your back in one smooth motion. “Because I was gonna keep you here all night either way.”

You barely managed to mutter, “You’re so weird,” before he cut you off with another kiss.

i don't like this work at ALL lol but tbh i wrote this because i want to be wanted UGH hdhjsdh

[favefandomimagines]

Baby On Board (f.l)

Summary: Y/N is seven months pregnant and Frank is a nightmare

AN: I’m on a role with these Frank fics lol a request similar to this came through anonymously where there were multiple kiddos but I was thinking of maybe making each pregnancy its own story??? What do we think?

The ER didn’t stop—not for holidays, not for sleep, and definitely not for pregnancies.

Dr. Y/N Y/L/N knew that better than anyone.

At seven months pregnant, she still had her badge clipped to her scrub top, and stethoscope around her neck like she was still on month one.

The only real sign of slowing down came in the form of a tiny foot kicking her ribs every few hours, and the way her husband, Dr. Frank Langdon, treated her like she was wrapped in glass.

“Okay, tell me you’ve eaten something,” Frank said, appearing beside her at the nurse’s station. He had a sixth sense when it came to her whereabouts. He’d sniff her out like a bloodhound when he thought she’d gone too long without food or a break.

She gave him a tired smile, holding up half a granola bar like it was a gourmet meal. “I’m pacing myself.”

Frank squinted at it like it offended him. “That’s bird food. You need protein.”

“Frank, I’m fine.”

“You’re growing an entire person. ‘Fine’ is not good enough.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and handed her a container of sliced apples and peanut butter. “From the cafeteria. It’s not garbage, I checked.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you married me anyway,” he grinned.

Y/N took a bite despite herself. “Only because you told me I had the best laparoscopic technique you’d ever seen.”

Frank leaned closer, voice dipping. “It was a sexy suture job. Changed my life.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. Frank Langdon was a walking contradiction—brilliant and serious when it came to medicine, but a complete puddle around her.

Ever since they’d found out about the baby, he’d been obsessed. With ultrasounds. With vitamins. With keeping her off anything remotely resembling a stressful case.

“You promised you’d only take consults today,” he reminded her, brushing a hand over the swell of her stomach. “No trauma. No GSWs. No knifed bar brawlers. Baby Langdon doesn’t need to hear screams yet.”

“Frank,” she said with a warning look.

“Y/N,” he said back, smiling but not backing down. “Let me be annoying. It’s my love language.”

By midafternoon, the ER was humming like it always did—a steady, chaotic rhythm of stretchers rolling, pages beeping, and voices shouting. Y/N had been reviewing a consult for a gallbladder patient when the overhead pager crackled to life.

“GSW incoming, ETA four minutes.”

The attending was in surgery. Frank was in another trauma bay. The only other senior resident was handling an incoming stroke in CT.

Which meant Y/N was the only one left.

She stood up instinctively, even as a nurse gave her a hesitant look. “Dr. Y/L/N, should I page someone else?”

“There’s no one else,” she said, already reaching for a gown and gloves. “Page the OR. Let them know we might need a room fast.”

“Are you sure—?”

“I’ve got it.”

The trauma bay exploded into motion the second the paramedics wheeled him in.

“Thirty-five-year-old male, GSW to the left abdomen, hypotensive in the field, unresponsive to fluids. GCS 9.”

Y/N was already in position. “Let’s go. Two large-bore IVs, type and cross, hang O-neg now. Get the FAST scan ready.”

The team scrambled. She barked orders while the tech applied the ultrasound probe to the man’s abdomen. Blood everywhere. Vitals crashing.

“He’s bleeding out,” someone said.

“Get me a thoracotomy tray,” Y/N called, pushing harder on the man’s belly. “We’re opening him up here if we have to.”

Her belly pressed into the stretcher as she leaned closer, hands slick with blood, the baby inside her shifting as if aware of the chaos around them.

“Pressure’s bottoming out—”

“He’s tamponading,” Y/N said. “OR now. We need to move.”

They barely stabilized him with a rapid transfusion before wheeling him up. Her gown was soaked in blood. She stripped it off as they rolled the patient away, rubbing at a red streak on her gown as she stepped out of Trauma 3.

And ran straight into Frank.

“Y/N!”

His voice was like a whip crack. She looked up just in time to see him sprinting down the hallway, his eyes wide with panic.

“What the hell happened? Why are you covered in blood? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, holding up her hands, even as he reached out and started patting her down like he was checking for wounds. “Frank, I’m fine. It’s not mine.”

“You weren’t supposed to take any trauma calls!”

“There was no one else, Frank.”

He stared at her, face pale, then looked down at the stain on her trauma gown, the crimson gloves in her hand, and the sheen of sweat on her forehead.

“You’re seven months pregnant. You can’t be in there opening chests—”

“I didn’t open his chest. I stabilized him. Got him to the OR. The patient’s alive, Frank.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. For a second, he just looked at her—at the way she was standing tall, composed, despite the blood and exhaustion.

“You scared the hell out of me.”

She softened as she took the gown and gloves off. “I know.”

“I thought—” he stopped, swallowing hard. “I thought something happened. That someone didn’t notice you were pregnant and shoved you into a wall or—”

She stepped forward and touched his arm. “I’m still capable. Pregnancy didn’t erase my training.”

Frank pulled her into his arms anyway, holding her like he needed to convince himself she was real.

“You’re not a porcelain doll,” he mumbled into her hair. “I know that. But I—God, I just want you both safe.”

“I am safe,” she murmured. “Because I’m trained. Because I trust my judgment. And because I have a husband who follows me around with apples and prenatal vitamins.”

He let out a weak laugh, still holding her.

Later that night, after the trauma bay was clean and the adrenaline had drained from both of them, Frank found her in the break room. She was sitting on the couch, one hand on her stomach, eyes closed.

“You’re not gonna get away with that again, you know,” he said gently.

Y/N opened one eye. “With what?”

“Being the only senior resident and taking a GSW while seven months pregnant. I’m putting it in your permanent record.”

She smiled, too tired to argue. “How’s the patient?”

“Out of surgery. Stable. You saved his life.”

She nodded, a satisfied smile on her face, rubbing at her lower back.

“Come on,” Frank said, kneeling in front of her. “Turn.”

She did, and he began to rub slow, practiced circles into her back. “I’ve been reading up on prenatal massage,” he said casually. “This spot here? Supposed to relieve pressure.”

“You’re a nerd.”

“A nerd who loves you,” he murmured. “And this baby.”

The room was quiet except for the hum of the vending machine. Then she said softly, “I know I scared you. But I need you to believe that I know what I’m doing.”

“I do,” he said. “I really do. But believing in you and worrying about you don’t cancel each other out.”

She leaned back into his hands. “Deal.”

Frank reached up and kissed her cheek, lips lingering slightly.

Two weeks later, she officially went on leave. But every now and then, Frank would find her standing in the ER doorway, arms crossed over her stomach, watching.

And he’d walk over, press a kiss to her temple, and whisper, “Still capable.”

And she’d whisper back, “Still protective.”

And both were absolutely true.

[luv4arinn]

Bayverse!Donnie headcanons bc his my bbg

Okay, lol, I really needed to let all of this out and just vomit all the ideas I’ve been hoarding about this man. I love him. I’ve adored him ever since the 2012 series, and that made me realize—I definitely have a thing for nerds. And glasses. Dear god.

I hope you guys like this!! Do you think I should do the same for the other brothers? Or maybe for the other characters? (I wouldn’t mind taking the risk and making headcanons like this for Rocksteady, hehe.)

Alright, bye!!

warnings: sfw & nsfw ( but not so explicit?) :p

- He’s a genius with confidence… until he isn’t.

Donnie is incredibly self-assured when it comes to his intellect and skills. He knows his worth and never doubts his ability to solve problems. Jumping out of a plane without a parachute? Easy. Hacking government security systems? A piece of cake. But confessing his feelings to you? That’s a whole different challenge.

This is where his anxious side kicks in. His brain, used to solving any equation, completely short-circuits when it comes to emotions. What if he misinterprets your signals? What if he ruins the friendship? What if you like someone else? Sure, he can design an exoskeleton in less than 24 hours, but love is a field where variables don’t always make sense.

If you think you can hide something from him, think again. Donnie notices everything. From the slight shift in your expression when you’re tired to the pattern of songs you repeat when you’re feeling down. (And no, he absolutely did not hack your Spotify, ahem—)

- That’s why, when you start falling for him, he already knows. In fact, he probably figured it out before you did.

He won’t tell you right away. Inside his head, there’s a storm of chaotic thoughts, organizing themselves into an ultra-detailed data table with every relevant piece of information. Give him a few days, and once his mind has fully processed everything, he’ll come back to you as a renewed Donnie—determined, confident, and ready to make you his.

- Donnie doesn’t just plan things; he breaks them down into a thousand strategies of action. His trash bin is living proof of the number of ideas he discards and reworks over and over.

Gifts? He’s not the type to grab something generic at the last minute. His gifts are so deeply personalized that they’ll make you feel like he knows you better than you know yourself.

Example: If you ever casually mentioned that you’d love to learn to play an instrument, he’ll build one for you—customized with enhancements. If you said you love the stars, he’ll create an interactive star map with the exact alignment of the sky on the day you were born.

Your birthdays, anniversaries, and any special dates are planned years in advance. It doesn’t matter if you’re not officially together yet—he already has ideas saved for when you are.

- Romance in his brain is an equation far too complex.

Donnie isn’t clumsy because he lacks intelligence; it’s because his brain moves too fast. His emotions and logic are in constant conflict, creating an ongoing battle between Confident Donnie and Nervous Donnie.

You’ll see him go from saying something with complete confidence to, “Uh, well… what I meant to say is… no, wait, forget it—” and then getting frustrated with himself because that definitely wasn’t what he had in mind.

But when he manages to organize his thoughts, he’s one of the most direct people you’ll ever meet. Once he crosses the mental line of “I’m doing this,” there’s no turning back.

- Gifts

He doesn’t believe in generic presents. Everything he gives you has a specific purpose. A bracelet that’s actually a disguised tracker (“For safety. Just for safety.”), or a stuffed animal that can record voice messages.

One day, you wake up and find a new app on your phone with your name on it. You open it, and it’s a virtual assistant designed specifically for you, complete with personalized reminders for the little things Donnie knows you always forget.

- Once he has you, you are his priority.

Once Donnie accepts his feelings and takes the step to be with you, he becomes the most devoted boyfriend.

He’s not excessively clingy or jealous like Raph, but his love is obvious in the time and effort he invests in you.

No matter how many projects he’s juggling, if you truly need his attention, he’ll give it to you without hesitation.

- Donnie needs physical contact, but his intellectual pride won’t let him admit it outright. Instead, he prefers to justify it with overly precise scientific explanations.

“Well, you see… my body temperature tends to drop faster than that of the average human, so it’s biologically beneficial for me to share contact with an external heat source.”

Translation: “Hug me. Now.”

If you confront him with something like, “Why don’t you just say you want cuddles?” he’ll turn bright red and start stammering, scrambling for excuses.

Don’t listen. Just climb onto him.

- Donnie can plan everything, but he cannot predict your spontaneous displays of affection.

If you surprise him with a kiss, his brain completely shuts down for 3-5 seconds before he can process it.

Unexpected gestures—hugging him from behind while he’s working, cupping his face in your hands, or kissing his cheek out of nowhere—leave him frozen, recalculating.

Sometimes, his first reflex is to adjust his glasses, only to realize that they have nothing to do with the fact that his vision just blurred from sheer shock.

NSFW

- He’s patient… but only to a point. Donnie will never pressure you. He’ll wait as long as you need, always making sure you feel safe and comfortable.

However… he’s already undressed you with his eyes a million times.

His mind is a machine of ideas and theories, and when it comes to you, he has imagined everything. Everything.

He tells himself he can be rational and controlled… but if you take too long, his thoughts will become a little more persistent.

- He’s not innocent. Don’t even think it for a second.

He may seem shy or awkward about relationships, but when it comes to this, his mind is a laboratory of hypotheses he’s dying to test.

He has analyzed you with surgical precision. He knows exactly how you blush, how you react to certain touches, which words make you tremble.

Do not underestimate him. He has read, he has researched, he has learned.

But nothing compares to the real thing. With you.

When he finally has you in his hands, his brain short-circuits.

No matter how many times he imagined this moment, nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of your skin beneath his fingers.

His jaw clenches, he exhales sharply, and his pupils dilate as if he’s just been electrocuted.

His entire expression changes—from his usual nervousness to something darker, more intense, starving.

- He becomes obsessive about memorizing every single reaction of yours.

He’s analytical. He will learn what you love and make sure to do it better every single time.

Eye contact and sounds. His drug.

Look at him. Don’t look away. Don’t ignore him.

If you dare to hold his gaze while he’s above you, he will completely lose himself in you.

Your voice, your moans, your gasps—they ruin him.

He needs you vocal. He needs to know he’s doing a good job.

If you get shy and try to cover your mouth, he will ask (or demand) that you don’t.

Kinky? Oh, absolutely.

Donnie lives to experiment. It’s in his nature.

Positions? All of them. But his favorites are the ones where you are on top of him.

He loves being dominated.

After spending his entire life controlling every aspect of his world, it’s a relief for his mind to surrender completely to you.

“Set the pace, beautiful. I’m in your hands.”

Toys? Oh, yes.

You can be sure he has researched every single thing about them.

But he won’t settle for the ones that already exist. No.

He will build his own. Upgraded. With precisely calibrated speeds and optimized materials.

“This one has five vibration levels, but if we increase the frequency by 15%, we could—”

May God help you if you walk into his lab at the wrong time.

May God help his brothers if they ever find out.

Dedicated and obsessed with you.

Donnie doesn’t do anything halfway. If he gives himself to you, it’s completely.

No matter how much time passes, he will always give his all to make you feel incredible.

He’s not a casual lover.

He is yours. And you are his.

“You are my greatest discovery.”

[yunpupu]

Accidentally Yours | j.yh

Chapter 1 : The Roommate Rulebook

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pairing : roommate! yunho x roommate! reader

genre : fluff, comedy, smut (warning : 16+)

word count : 2.1k

synopsis : You and Yunho move in together as roommates, trying to keep things strictly platonic. Cue hilarious misunderstandings, late-night snacks, and a slow build of tension.

masterlist | chapter 2

If your life had a genre, it’d be something like “tragicomedy”—except you weren’t laughing right now.

You stood outside an apartment complex, suitcase in one hand, tote bag slipping off your shoulder, and pure, unfiltered regret bubbling in your chest. You read over the text from your best friend Soojin one more time, praying this wasn’t a setup.

"You’re gonna love him!! He’s super chill, clean, respectful, and barely even home, lol. It's literally the perfect roommate."

You weren’t sure what you expected from the guy Soojin called “literally the perfect roommate,” but it definitely wasn’t… this.

Because when the door swung open, you were greeted by a guy standing barefoot in pajama pants and an oversized hoodie, eating cereal straight from the box with a spoon. Like a gremlin that just crawled out of a sitcom.

He blinked at you with big, round eyes. “Uh… are you the new roommate?”

You stared. “Are you Yunho?”

He smiled. Wide. Way too bright for someone who was holding a cereal box like it was a life partner. “Yep, that’s me! Sorry, I thought you were the delivery guy. I ordered dumplings like, an hour ago.”

You stepped inside slowly, eyes darting around the apartment.

It wasn’t awful. Lived-in, sure. A few shoes scattered at the doorway, a jacket draped over the couch, a suspicious-looking sock on the dining table, and—wait.

“Why is there a sock next to the soy sauce?”

Yunho looked over his shoulder, mouth still full of cereal. “Oh, that’s… huh. I actually have no idea.”

You exhaled, dragging your suitcase in with you. Soojin was so going to hear about this.

The next few hours were a blur of awkward introductions, chaotic energy, and the slow realization that you had willingly moved in with a walking contradiction.

Jeong Yunho was tall. Like, stupidly tall. He moved like a puppy who hadn’t grown into his limbs yet—light on his feet but constantly knocking things over. He greeted you with a sleepy smile and helped carry your suitcase to your room, nearly decapitating himself on the doorframe in the process.

“I put some fresh sheets on the bed earlier,” he said as he helped you settle in. “They’re probably wrinkle city, though.”

You turned to him, arms crossed. “Be honest—do you even know how to use a washing machine?”

“I know how to aggressively press buttons and hope for the best,” he replied proudly. “Which works 70% of the time.”

You groaned.

He just grinned wider.

By day two, you had started making a mental list of Yunho's Habits :

1. He talked to inanimate objects. “C’mon, toaster, don’t do me dirty today.”

2. He sang everything. Whether he was washing dishes, folding laundry, or just walking around the apartment, he narrated his life like he was starring in a musical.

3. He danced in socks. No music is required.

4. He forgot basic things—like closing the fridge door or wearing matching socks—but somehow remembered that your coffee order was always “oat milk, one pump vanilla, extra hot.”

You were in the kitchen making toast on day three when he waltzed in wearing a Pikachu hoodie.

“Morning!” he chirped, voice obnoxiously cheerful for 8 a.m. “There’s a pigeon outside our window that looks like he’s plotting something. Just thought you should know.”

You stared at him, deadpan. “That’s the third time you’ve accused a bird of having criminal intent.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

Despite everything… he was weirdly easy to live with.

Sure, he was messy in the way a hurricane was messy. And yes, he once accidentally left the oven on for two hours because he got distracted by a TikTok rabbit hole. But he was also thoughtful in ways that completely caught you off guard.

Like when you came home from a long day and found he’d made you a grilled cheese sandwich “because you looked emotionally hungry.”

Or when he offered to pause his game just to listen to you rant about your annoying coworker for twenty minutes.

And there were the Post-it notes.

By day four, they started showing up—on your mirror, your laptop, even your snack drawer.

“You’re doing great, sweetie.”

“Remember : coffee = life.”

“Kick today’s butt. Or at least flick it gently.”

You started saving them. Tucking them into your notebook like confetti pieces of unexpected joy.

Things escalated the night of the Survival Celebrities Jungle Edition incident.

You were curled up on the couch with your laptop, watching a crime documentary and trying not to scream at the suspect’s stupidity. Yunho appeared out of nowhere, plopping down next to you with a bowl of popcorn in one hand and a sparkly headband in the other.

“Want in on greatness?” he asked, waving the remote. “This show’s got everything—drama, snakes, someone crying over a missing shoe…”

You shook your head. “I’m good.”

He leaned in. “C’mon. Just one episode. It’s art.”

You hesitated.

Then he pulled The Look.

The wide eyes. The slightly tilted head. The pout that belonged in a drama poster.

“…Fine,” you muttered.

He let out a triumphant whoop, flopping sideways until his head landed on the backrest behind you. His shoulder brushed yours.

You tried to ignore the way your skin tingled at the contact.

“Welcome to trash TV heaven,” he whispered dramatically.

And then started narrating every dramatic moment with a running commentary that had you choking on laughter.

By the end of the episode, you were crying from giggling too hard and Yunho was dramatically mimicking a contestant sobbing over a cracked coconut.

Later that night, while brushing your teeth, you found another Post-it on the bathroom mirror.

“Thanks for watching trash TV with me. You laugh like bubble wrap popping. It’s cute.”

You stared at it for a full minute.

Then you smiled, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in your chest.

The turning point came the morning of your big work presentation.

You woke up feeling anxious, mentally rehearsing your slides as you brewed coffee. Yunho padded into the kitchen, hair a mess, hoodie half-zipped.

He blinked sleepily at you. “You okay?”

You nodded too quickly. “Just… big day.”

Without a word, he took your mug and added two ice cubes. “So you don’t burn your tongue and curse in front of your boss,” he said, handing it back with a sleepy grin.

You blinked.

He shuffled to the fridge. “Also… I may have accidentally finished your oat milk last night. But I bought more. Three cartons.”

“…Three?”

He opened the fridge dramatically.

Three cartons sat in a neat row, each one decorated with a Post-it:

“For the boss babe.”

“Don’t forget you’re a badass.”

“You smell nice (not in a weird way).”

You burst out laughing.

He beamed. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

When you got home that night, brain fried and heels in your hand, Yunho met you at the door with takeout and a victory dance.

“How’d it go?” he asked, hopping on one foot like a caffeinated flamingo.

You collapsed on the couch. “I crushed it. Also, I never want to look at a pie chart again.”

He handed you a dumpling. “Then let’s celebrate with food and absolutely zero productivity.”

As you both sat on the floor eating noodles straight from the container, you realized something horrifying.

You liked living with him.

Like… really liked it.

Even when he wore mismatched socks and talked to the rice cooker.

Even when he made your organized, peaceful world feel like a carnival on wheels.

Because underneath all the chaos and glitter and ridiculous jokes, Yunho was warm. Safe. Funny. Kind in a way that made you want to lean closer and stay there.

And as he reached over to steal your last dumpling, grinning with sauce on his cheek, you caught yourself smiling again.

You were in trouble.

Big, oat-milk-buying, Post-it-writing, tall-guy trouble.

[winterzxsoldierz]

War Child

Part one

Bucky Barnes x (Fem) Reader

Avengers x (Fem) Reader

Warnings: Blood, mention of deaths, other creepy hydra shit, bad language words (lol) and a lot more other warnings, so be prepared.

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton (Sometimes) Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner (Sometimes) Thor Odison, Loki Laufeyson, Peter Parker, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Bucky Barnes, Yelena Belova, Arnim Zola,

Description: You're a hydra experiment or had been one since you were young, For years you lived within the cold walls of Siberia and when you finally get free, faces from the past and demons come out to haunt you Reader is an enchanted superhuman, she has the super soldier serum giving her, super speed, super strength, a healing factor, fast metabolism, endurance, strong lung capacity & etc, she also has both fire and ice magic. The time line in this will review the past and present. Reader can look anyway you want. Her soon love interest will be Bucky. Authors Note: Please know that none of these characters belong to me, they belong to marvel, Y/N is your character of choice. also your thoughts will be orange, Bucky's thoughts will be blue and the others will be purple

Avengers tower present 9:34 am Avengers pov

Gathered around table enjoying breakfast and conversation sits the avengers, everyone seems happy, Bucky and Loki bantering with one another about who can do bad better, Steve acting like a mom and Tony being the overgrown brat, Wanda, Natasha and Yelena talking quietly amongst each other in sokovian, then there's Peter, Pietro, Sam and Thor arguing about how many bad guys they can beat in a fight, like family they're fun and chaotic. Everything seemed to go quiet when the leather jacket wearing, eye patched man walks in with a file and flash drive, the atmosphere once relaxed and playful now tense and serious, as all eyes land on the director Nick Fury. "Hope i'm not souring the mood." he says his tone, dripping with his usual uncaring sarcasm. "Anyways." he continues, "We have a problem, a big one, a loose cannon hydra related one." He sets down the file on the middle of the table and Bucky is the first to grab it, the minute he opens it, the color from his face drains, there it was a whole section dedicated to you, a ghost is what you are, one he was made to train when he was The winter soldier, a deadly weapon is what you became, just like him, but unlike him, he was captured, but you, you were born and raised into a hell, and turned into something so deadly.

Steve looks at Bucky and raises a brow in concern and curiosity, Steve pauses debating whether he should say anything but he decides to anyway, "Hey Buck, you alright, you look a little pale." Bucky snaps out of his current thoughts and glances at Steve and the rest of the team and he swallows, a shaky sigh leaving his lips and he says "I know her, i knew her." Every member of the team gives each other looks before nodding and taking turns to look at the entire file and Sam speaks "So where do we start?"

Italy present

Your Pov I arrive back into my rented apartment, after getting some needed food and water, i knew my time here in Italy was running thin but there was something about this place i liked, i couldn't get comfortable though, it was only a matter of time before the devil came knocking. After heating up a simple tv dinner, i sit on the small couch in my living room watching the old school box television, it's on the news channel, the headlines read "Avengers strike once again saving over a hundred innocent civilians from a hostage situation with the terrorist group known as HYDRA." A sigh leaves me and i start eating as i change the channel to a cartoon, it wasn't one i've seen before, it was a blonde with really long hair and a pretty purple dress, now interested i continue to watch the movie and finish my dinner, soon i set my plate aside and just watch tv, i was enjoying the movie more than i'd like to admit. Berlin 1953 (Past & your nightmare) "Papa, i don't understand what you want me to do, you little voice trembles as you look up at the man in front of you, he stare you down and pats you head, his German accent thick as he speaks, "In time, you will learn to master the gift i have given you my child." a grin spreads on Zola's lips, to you it seemed innocent but only if you knew it was anything but innocent.

Your Pov (Present) I jolted awake in a slight sweat, my eyes dart around the room, weariness and confusion etched on my features, i thought i was back hom-there, but i'm in my living room, i'm in Italy, i swallow and wipe my forehead with the sleeve of my sweater and i stand up, my steps are silent on the wood floors as i walk into the kitchen, i fill me a glass of water and gulp it down as if i was a man stuck in the desert. my hands are shaky as i set the glass down and stare at the dark curtained covered windows. "He's gone, no longer here." i tell myself and i make my way to my bathroom, a shower was much needed to calm myself.

Berlin 1954 (Past & Bucky's nightmare) "Soldat! you're back with the stuff." Zola hums in approval and takes the metal case from the winter soldier, he snaps his fingers for the soldier to follow him and the soldier complies without question. Zola leads the soldier into the lab, for a moment the soldier tenses, he didn't think he had another procedure today but then his eyes falls onto you, a girl strapped down onto a table asleep, he blinks, he couldn't tell if it was worry, or surprise but he manages to school it like he was taught, the soldiers eyes follow Zola as he pulls out the bag of super serum, it was a cheap one, not to affective but it'll still work, just not like his, the soldier watches as Zola sticks it into an IV like bag and he watches as Zola stick the IV into you and slowly the serum makes it way to your skin and finally it slips into your blood stream making you jolt in pain and cry out.

Avengers tower (Present) Bucky's room Bucky's Pov His eyes snap open quickly and they dart around, checking for any signs of danger or anyone one at all, nothing it's all silent except for his racing heart and his own breathing, his brows are furrowed as he recalls the nightmare, that day, the day when Karpor made him bring that serum to Zola, that day where your life would change for ever and not for the good, a wave of guilt floods through Bucky as he thinks about that day, how he just watched, and stood there as that evil son of a bitch gave you that serum with no remorse as he hurt and changed you drastically. Bucky knew he had to find you, hell he knew you were lost and confused like he was and like he had steve, you'll have him.

Let me know what you think, i will definitely be making different parts to this story, i'm pausing my other story to work on this one since i had this longer and like this better. Part two is being worked on so stay tuned.

Tag list: @sapphirebarnes i know you wanted to be tagged in my other post but i'm keeping that on hold right now, so i hope you like this one just as much.

[theamityelf]

hey know this is a weird ask but could you do a barista makoto au where he probably doesn’t get an invite as an ultimate despite his skill while Kyoko is possibly addicted to the coffee he makes and trying to keep it to herself and maybe it fails because mukuro was sent to get coffees by Junko, but when she orders from makoto he’s still the first person to smile at her

Ooh, even better than Ultimate Barista.

Okay, this is definitely a situation where everyone (or almost everyone) in the 78th class meets Makoto at the coffee shop near campus and has meaningful experiences with him. They're all trying to keep him a secret, separately.

This one miiiight have to be a multi-chapter fic, because it would be too long for a post, lol.

For Makoto's birthday, here's part of the first chapter:

---

Kyoko saw him first.

She wasn’t being petty or possessive; it was just true.

At least, she saw him first as a barista- a distinction she was to learn later.

Her route to Hope’s Peak took her through a certain coffee shop on Day 1. And though her learned habit of taking in every detail at all times compelled her to retain that she entered at 7:35 in the morning, that there was a bell above the door that sounded loudly when it opened, that there were three people in line ahead of her (and what they looked like, and what they were wearing), and that the inside of the place was a comfortable temperature and smelled like a normal coffee shop...she wasn't going in with the intention of ever returning. It was a small place, close enough to campus for her convenience but not so close as to be the regular stomping ground of every Hope's Peak attendee and faculty member.

As a student, she expected she'd be making her own coffee, in the dorms.

When she reached the front of the line, she saw him at the register.

He was plain-looking. Pleasant-looking. Dressed in a tan button-up shirt and pants and an olive brown apron. His name tag read 'Naegi'. He looked to be about 5'3'', with brown hair in mild disarray and eyes that matched his apron. A smile that didn't look forced. He had to be about her age, which was...unusual. That would make him a high school student.

"Welcome!" he said brightly. "What can I get for you?"

"Just a black coffee," she said.

"Black coffee. You're sure?" He didn't say it like he was doubting her. More as if...he was placing a sword in her hand and wanted confirmation that she was ready to wield it.

And because she was naturally curious, she forewent the routine "yes," in favor of, "Why do you ask?"

He blushed. "Well, there's nothing wrong with black coffee, if that's what you want! But I just thought, it's April, and you walked in here with a really focused look, and maybe you might like trying to start the school year with something a little less bitter."

"I'm not paying more than five hundred yen."

"No, that's fine!"

"Then you can make what you want."

He smiled, like it was a genuine pleasure, and went scurrying (Well, walking. He just had the energy of a fanciful woodland creature.) for the coffee pot.

She tilted her head. "Are you in high school?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Then shouldn't you be on your way to school now?"

"Yeah, my shift actually ends pretty soon. I'm heading to school right after. I know it's kind of chaotic, but I'm usually on time!"

She watched him add caramel syrup to the cup. Not much of it. Not enough to noticeably lighten the color of the coffee.

"But, you're on your way to school, too, right?" he said.

"Yes."

"I don't recognize your uniform. Is it-"

"I'm going to Hope's Peak," she interrupted.

He startled, the cup slipping a full centimeter while remaining in his hand. His eyes were full of awe and wonder. "Really?! Wow, that's amazing! What's your Ultimate talent?"

A touch of sourness curdled within her. "It's a secret," she said. Revealing herself enough to earn the Hope's Peak invitation had been more than enough attention.

"I've heard they have civet coffee, at Hope's Peak. You should try it! I mean, if you want."

"Where did you hear that?"

"Online. There are different blogs, and-"

"Fan forums."

He let out an embarrassed laugh. "Pretty much. I've always thought civet coffee would be interesting to work with. I hope you get a chance to try it."

"Is this a passion of yours, then? It's unusual, for a high school student."

"It's unusual for customers to be this curious," he replied warmly. "I'm usually the curious one. Everyone else is way more interesting than me. You're even an Ultimate."

Small amounts of many different ingredients had found their way into the coffee. (She'd kept a mental list.) Now, he was stirring it.

"They don't wonder why a high school student is acting as a barista at 7:30 in the morning on a weekday? They must badly need the coffee."

"Yeah, a lot of people are busy. And tired."

"You're very good at not answering questions."

"Huh?"

"More implicit questions than explicit ones. You've answered most of my direct questions, but I've given you a lot of opportunities to elaborate on why you work here, as a high school student, and you haven't given an answer. I'm not being sardonic; it's a genuine skill. You don't break the flow of the conversation at all. It's impressive."

"Oh." He was blushing again. "I didn't mean to...I mean, it's really just that I like meeting people and helping out. There's not much to it. I started working here because one day I came in to pick up a pastry for my little sister and the old barista was being held at knifepoint. The police caught the robber, but the barista fainted, and since he'd already given me the pastry for my sister, I had to go behind the counter to put my money in the register. And then people just started coming in and ordering things, and uh...Actually, maybe it's kind of a long story. The point is, I got special permission from my school's headmaster to do this as a part-time job, because I guess he really likes this place. I see my teachers here a lot." He put the lid on the coffee cup. "All done. That'll be five hundred yen."

She paid up and allowed his story- his interesting story which he delivered like it was mundane -to find a place in her mind to settle. When she left this place, she was going to be back in the world she'd been in before. She would put aside distractions and be back to thinking about her father and her new school.

She took the coffee cup, drew in a deep breath, and stepped away from the counter, preparing to reintroduce herself to her problems.

Seeing her father. She was going to see him at orientation. That was fine. If he didn't care about her, she didn't need to care about him. She was a Kirigiri detective. The "Ultimate" Detective, now. Tacky vanity title, ugh...

The taste of the coffee stalled her in place.

She stopped partway between the counter and the door.

Kyoko Kirigiri turned an astonished look on Naegi the barista. He was already chatting just as avidly with the next customer, but he spared her a friendly wave.

She...waved back.

[talon-dragonbeast]

saw @thecrispydemon and @aestherians answering the most googled questions about themselves, and it sounded fun so i thought id do it too! these are the questions were gonna be answering (plus a bonus question at the end of the post):

alright, lets start!

great question! short answer: no, technically? its... complicated. the long answer is that we used to be. we were the first players, who mastered the ability to travel between dimensions via portals of our own creation. we got stranded in the End when the dragon broke our portal, the only way home. without any light, drinking water or food other than chorus fruits, we were forced to adapt; centuries and centuries of evolution, changing our bodies little by little until we became almost unrecognizable. our limbs got longer, our bodies taller, our hands became claws, our eyes turned a glowing purple, our skin got darker, we grew a tail and our hair and teeth disappeared. we gained the ability to teleport, yes, but we lost our humanity in return. (personally, i think thats a pretty sweet deal. who wants to be human anyways? not me!)

of course! i am an enderman. i am real. therefore, endermen are real... oh, you didnt mean it like that didnt you. in that case... no, im afraid theriform endermen dont exist in this reality. yet.

as much as i love my species, no, we are not friendly at all, sorry. neither with players nor with other mobs. endermen are not even friendly with each other! (enderlings being the only exception. we must protecc the pups) it varies between dimensions of course, but in general we are a solitary species. where im from, the nether, we are pretty independent as adults. we are cared for by the entire community until our pearls are strong enough to be able to teleport between dimensions, but then we are pretty much on our own. sounds cold, but we actually prefer it that way!

we are, actually! endermen are the only creatures that can be found in the three dimensions. that includes the nether!

nope. we are very much alive.

no, creepers are the ones who are scared of cats (lol). most of us just ignore them. but personally, i love cats! they are chaotic little beasts with sharp claws and cool eyes. just like me fr!

we are actually neutral mobs! we dont attack unless we are provoked. it is not our fault that the players insist on provoking us! they should know better than to look us in the eye. so rude smh

yes; but again, only if you provoke us. you are a guest in our home, you should act like it.

its complicated. technically? see question 1.

no! we are just little guys! we like holding blocks and wandering around. like we are just chilling. the people at mojang are liars; we are not evil, and we do not want to "bring about the collapse to all dimensions" or whatever. i dont even know where that came from.

bonus question:

yes. obviously.

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

I had this hilarious thought just now. Imagine when the bsd cast came in the real world, instead of their normal body, they enter as chibis. Or you could say as their wan! characters lol. The idea is VERY similar to the cat one lol

Recently, I was pinged by @legendsgates under a similar prompt. So, enjoy this short imagine.

The loud crash came from your bedroom. Chills ran down your spine. You were living alone, no roommates or pets. Besides, there are no trees near your bedroom window, so, you can't blame a curious stray cat.

Worst of all, you left your phone in a bedroom. You grabbed you trusty frying pan and tip toed to your bedroom.

The house was quiet. Yet, you can hear quiet footsteps, coming from your bedroom. You prepared yourself, abruptly opened the door, burst into the room, swung the frying pan and screamed.

"Die, you despicable dog."

A bunch of chibis screamed and huddled in a corner.

Chibi BSD Cast were trembling, looking at you. Oda's kids have tears in their eyes.

You blinked and dropped the frying pan. You felt like a total jerk now.

You sat on the floor and reach your hand towards chibis.

"I am so sorry, I thought, you were burglars."

After some whispering between BSD Cast, chibi Fukuzawa stepped forward and shake your hand.

"Apology accepted. We are also partly at fault. We should have chosen a better time to be transported here. Do you know why we are so small?"

_____

🐾 It's fascinating to live with a bunch of chibis. Interesting and hard.

🐾 First, BSD Cast now had their WAN! Counterparts bodies, voices and attitude. So, life truly became chaotic.

🐾 Five times per week, Boxzai will be chasing after Chuuya. Ranpo has rubber duckies (with Atsuduck and Duckzai), Fyodor complaining about Yokohama restaurants, subway and everything.

🐾 There is also a problem with clothes. Now, people either think that you had a bunch of kids at home. Or that you have become a volunteer in an orphanage.

🐾 And Chibi BSD always swarms you, when you return home. Because they missed you.

🐾 Still, you are happy to live with chibis.

🐾 Unfortunately, they returned to their original height without warning.

______

You were carrying Dazai and Chuuya on your shoulders. They were bickering, yet, you didn't pay attention to them. You learned to ignore it.

You made a step forward. Two lights blinked near your shoulders.

And now, instead of light chibis, on your left shoulder you had 181 cm and 67 kg of Dazai Osamu, and on your right shoulder you had 160 cm and 60 kg of Chuuya Nakahara.

With a loud thud, you fall down, buried under Dazai and Chuuya.

Thankfully, no one get hurt. And you were really grateful, that you weren't carrying Fukuzawa and Kunikida right now.

[fbfh]

curiosity is a wonderful thing - chapter 2

wc: 3.3k

genre: politics, slice of life, slow burn, best friends to lovers

pairing: audrey x ben, belle x adam (aka beast), eventual ben x reader

warnings: politics, audrey suuuuuucks, the isle has bad living conditions, adam yells (not at ben he's just fired up)

summary: ben is ready to announce his first proclamation to his parents. It's risky, and he knows he needs to rely on the support of his friends and girlfriend. but mostly support from you.

song recs: descendants score suite - descendants score, queen of peace - florance and the machine

a/n: thinking thoughts about ben lol. as always fangs to cici for beta reading <3

tags @yesv01 @magcon7280 @dustyinkpages @demirunner @strawberry-cake1 @kiara7777 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sunshineangel-reads

“Your first proclamation, huh?” Ben’s dad asks with a deep chuckle. “What have you got?”

Facing your parents is nerve wracking for anyone, but it’s especially intimidating when your mom is regarded as hands down one of the smartest people in the country, and your dad can turn into a hulking 10 foot tall razor toothed beast. Ben has been training to be a good politician and a good king for his whole life. Every single day he’s been praised for listening, not going against the grain, for having a level head and coming to the same conclusions as his parents. Up until now, it’s been a very good thing, his parents have been such great rulers, and he’s grateful to have such experienced footsteps to follow in and learn from. His parents taught him to listen to his heart, to form his own opinions and do good even when it’s hard. He takes in a deep breath, steadying himself for this, for the first time he’s going to stand up for something his parents might not be behind. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, it’s terrifying. 

As quickly as the feeling arises, he thinks of you. He thinks about when he first found out that when they were rounding up villains for the isle, there was a lot of debate on if they should put Wonderlandians there as well. They were described as volatile and chaotic. Ben has never, ever thought of you as either of those things. It made him feel sick then - and makes him feel sick now - that if no one had advocated for Wonderland, if no one had advocated for your mom and for you, that he would never have met the best person he’s ever had the honor of knowing. Ben gets to know you, Ben gets the honor and privilege of having you in his life because someone advocated for you, and stood up for the underdog. All of his nerves suddenly stand strong and tall, forming an armor of determination that wraps around him. 

“I want to bring four children from the Isle of the Lost over to Auradon, to give them a second chance.” 

Ben’s heart pounds, but his gaze is unwavering. He’s not going to have to lay awake at night any longer, worrying about the kids on the Isle and not being able to do anything about it. He’s doing what he always promised himself he’d do - use his power to make good changes for people who can’t make changes for themselves. He almost loses his conviction when he sees how angry his dad is becoming at the very thought of bringing children from the Isle to Auradon. Ben knows why he’s getting like this. He thinks Ben hasn’t thought this through, that he’s putting public safety at risk. Before that little nagging voice of self doubt starts to get the better of him, Ben thinks back to you, and he feels his fear become replaced with conviction. 

“Every time I look out at the Isle, I feel like they’ve been abandoned.” 

All of the work you helped him put into this proclamation, all the practice and talking points circle his head like the guiding beam of a lighthouse. He finds himself right back on track, and he meets his father’s gaze with what he hopes comes off as confident self assurance. He takes in a small breath, steadying himself. He’s not just defending his ideas, his arguments, he’s defending the rights of every innocent child born into the isle. 

Belle looks shocked. All she can think about is the pain and terror she and many of her good friends - and countless other people, to varying extents - endured at the hands of the people who were sequestered off to the Isle. Adam doesn’t even need to look at his wife to know exactly what’s going through her mind, and he feels a lot of the protective and defensive feelings over her coming back. He hasn’t felt this way since before he got rid of that piece of shit Gaston, and ensured he couldn’t hurt his wife or his people again. 

“The children of our sworn enemies?” He asks, stepping forward, “Living among us?” 

He wonders for a moment if Ben has somehow magically forgotten what it was like before. The sense of fear knowing that villains were out there, in hiding or in far away lairs, that they could come back and wreak havoc at any moment. Adam stares down his son, but Ben refuses to waver under his gaze. Of course he hasn’t forgotten. But Adam had never asked to be treated like a monster all those years, and if things had gone differently, maybe it would be him and Ben on the Isle. The children shouldn’t have to suffer for their parents’ choices. 

“Not all of them, just a few at first. To start out.” Ben says, hoping it will clarify that he doesn’t intend to turn Auradon into a state of anarchy and chaos, “The ones who need our help the most.”

Belle takes a breath and nods at her son’s words. She’s trying to keep an open mind about all this, not rush to judgment and jump to conclusions like the people in her village would when she was growing up. She waits for Ben to continue. He locks eyes with his mom for a moment, and even under the current circumstances, he can still feel her unwavering support. A brief wave of love and gratitude for her wash over him, but he knows now isn’t the time to get sappy. Feeling a renewed sense of belief in him from his mom, he smiles a little as he looks back at his dad.

“I’ve already chosen them.” He states. 

His dad can smell fear - literally. Being able to smell nervous systems and pheromones are one of the many bizarre abilities you gain after being magically transformed into a beast - so Ben uses all his strength to stay calm and confident. If he can pull this off, if he can really sell this confidently, the potential good it could bring to innocent people trapped on the Isle would be immeasurable. Adam doesn’t say anything for a moment, waiting to see if Ben wavers under his gaze. When he finally speaks, his voice is tense.

“Have you?”

Ben is fighting with his life to stay composed. Belle looks between them for a moment, then places her hand on Adam’s arm. He rests his hand on hers, acknowledging her, but doesn’t break eye contact with his son. Belle knows that all her son wants is to do good. He’s the best parts of both of them. Maybe their generation wouldn’t have been ready for this, but Ben is paving the way to a new era. It’s his time to step up, and trust his instincts. Although the thought terrifies her, Belle would be lying if she said she couldn’t see any merit to his plan. 

“I gave you a second chance.” She says softly. Ben knew this was going to be hard, he was expecting opposition, but he’s infinitely grateful that his mom is on his side. If she’s on board, eventually his dad will come around too. Her support always means the world to him, but there’s something extra special there today. It’s the same way that you support him, and as his thoughts turn from his mother's support to yours, he finds himself full of renewed strength and determination. 

"Who are their parents?" Belle asks. Ben takes in a breath, deciding to work his way up. 

"Cruella…"

Belle takes in a small breath at the mention of her name, and Adam's shoulders tense. It's only going to get worse from here, so Ben bites the bullet and continues. After being hunted like an animal by an angry mob, Adam can't stand cruelty to animals even more than he had before. 

"Jafar…"

Belle takes in a sharp breath at the mention of his name. After the technological boom that resulted in Auradon creating an alliance with Atlantis, magic is mostly antiquated. However, that won't stop someone as power hungry as Jafar from seeking out any artifacts he can, no matter the cost. 

"The Evil Queen…"

Adam clenches his jaw, trying his hardest to remain calm. It's taken years to repair the damage to the Winter's Keep agriculture, even the mention of a poison apple will have them importing all their produce. The very idea of having the child of the Evil Queen in Auradon could send the agricultural industry spiraling. 

"And…" before Ben can announce the last one, a wave of nerves manages to get past the wall of confidence he’s been so carefully building. His dad can sense it, Ben’s sure. He knows the only way to handle this is to keep going before he gets even more nervous. 

“Maleficent.” 

A chill passes through the room, and you’d think Ben had declared the last refugee to be the spawn of Hades himself. 

“Maleficent?!” Adam barks. Behind them, Lumier gasps, dropping his pins. He gathers his sewing supplies and exits quickly. Ben is unsure if Lumier’s shaking hands are from his father’s outburst, or the mention of the evil fairy’s name. 

“Dad-”

“She’s the most dangerous, volatile villain in the land!”

Ben had expected this kind of reaction. Fairies becoming evil is incredibly rare. Most mainland fairies originate deep in the enchanted forests of Schwartzvald, and as seasons change, they can migrate to other forests. There’s a certain type of magic that’s unique to fairies, it’s very powerful and impossible to recreate by non fairies. When a fairy corrupts itself with dark magic, another incredibly powerful and corrosive source of power, the consequences are cataclysmic. Maleficent is living proof of that. 

“Just, hear me out dad-” 

“Absolutely not!” Adam barks, “I won’t hear of it!”

“Dad-”

“She is guilty of unspeakable crimes!” 

“And her child?!” 

His question hangs in the air between them. 

“All of the children, are they guilty too? Their only crime is living.” 

Sixteen years ago, Adam never would have entertained the thought. But now, being a parent himself… 

“The children are innocent.” Ben continues, and Adam can hear the passion, the desire to fight for those kids on the Isle in his voice, “They deserve a chance.” 

Belle is moved by Ben’s argument, and in spite of his hesitance, Adam is too. A small flurry of pride rushes through him at the sight of how strong and well spoken his son is becoming. They sit in the space between Ben’s words for a moment, but it feels like an eternity. Belle gives Adam’s arm a squeeze, silently encouraging him. After a moment, he speaks. 

“I suppose… the children are innocent.”

Adam turns around, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Belle walks up to Ben, adjusting the collar of his shirt.

“Good job.” She says, so softly he would have missed it if not for the glimmer of pride in her eyes. She pats his chest affectionately before walking back over to Adam, taking his arm as they leave. She’ll talk to him about all this later, Ben knows she will. If anyone can get his dad to be on board with this, it’s going to be his mom. 

Ben gazes down at his signet ring, remembering the promise he made to himself when he first received it. He hasn’t taken it off since. He is going to be a good king. He looks out at the Isle, wishing he could do something about it right now. He wishes he could just take Fairy Godmother’s wand and fix everything, but real change takes time. Sustainable change takes time. Ben is going to be a good king, who makes real, sustainable change. He’s going to be a good chapter in the history books - the ones written in Auradon, and on the Isle. 

With a deep sigh, he carefully takes off the suit jacket Lumier had been tailoring and makes a mental note to reschedule the rest of his fitting from today. He begins to run through his schedule for the day, but his thoughts keep getting pulled back to you. He's so excited to tell you everything. You were both prepared for a much bigger fight to get his parents' support on this, and he didn't end up having to use a fraction of his talking points. He exits into the hallway, elated at how it went, and heads toward his room. He's not even ten steps down the hall when he almost trips over a pair of legs. 

He looks down, surprised to see you. You had been so engrossed in what you were doing that you entirely lost track of time. Your face lights up when you see him. 

"Ben!" You exclaim happily, shoving your things back into your tea pot bag. "How did it go?"

You study his face for some kind of indication, but all you see is surprise. And warmth. You had told him you'd wait outside for him, but he hadn't actually expected that of you. Wonderlandians have a distorted sense of time, so hours can feel like minutes, or minutes can feel like an eternity. You explained to him what it's like all those years ago, and he's always been very understanding and done his best to make sure you're accommodated. Most importantly, he's never asked you to push yourself, and he's always covered for you when you need to slip away for a little while. All thoughts of the meeting with his parents are gone as he looks down at you, how you'd been waiting for him. 

"You… you waited out here for me instead of going to Wonderland?" He asks, his voice soft. 

"Of course," you say matter of factly, still waiting to hear about how it went. Ben’s chest flutters with appreciation for you, for having you in his life. Wonderland is your favorite place in the entire world, there's nowhere and nothing that makes you happier. But you still waited out here for him. You chose him. He snaps out of his train of thought, realizing you're still waiting on an answer. 

"It went well." He states. Your face lights up, and he can't help but smile. 

"It did?" You ask, and Ben realizes that you're just as invested in this as he is. He laughs a little, nodding. 

"Yeah. I- I need to rearrange some things, we have to plan for their arrival, and call a press-"

His words are cut off by the celebratory laugh that bubbles out of you. You throw your arms around his neck, hugging him tight. Your body is warm against him, and you smell like tea and pastries and… something familiar. 

“I knew you could do it!” You exclaim. He lets out a hesitant laugh, and holds you back. He's done a lot today, so he lets himself indulge in your embrace. When you finally pull away, he holds your arms, rubbing them gently as you ramble. 

"So, what next?" You ask, still beaming up at him. 

“Uh…” He starts, still processing everything. “We need to go over the agenda, make sure their arrival is smooth. A press conference, definitely,” he adds, and you nod, agreeing.

He suddenly remembers he was supposed to meet up with Audrey today. He pauses, hating to have to cancel on her again. 

“...And Audrey.” He pulls out his phone to call her. You prepare yourself to comfort him, to reassure him that he’s not being a bad boyfriend, he’s being a good politician. You don’t know why Audrey insists on giving him such a hard time. You would think that she’d know what to expect of having a boyfriend in politics at this point, much less a boyfriend in the royal family. You listen to Ben’s conversation after she picks up. 

“Hey, Audrey, hi. So, about my first proclamation pitch,” Ben says, excitement bubbling out of him. Through the speaker of his phone, you can hear Audrey’s voice.

“Right, right. When is that supposed to happen again? Cause you promised you’d take me to Camelot Heights this weekend, Bennyboo…” 

You don’t understand how anyone could be so apathetic towards something as monumental as a first proclamation. You can tell Ben feels the same. He’s thrown, but he’s trying not to show it.

“Uh… today. It- it happened today. Just now.”

“Oh, so you’re finally done with all that stuff?” 

There’s a moment of silence that hangs between the two of you before Ben answers. 

“Uh…” he chuckles again, “done preparing for the pitch, yes. Remember when we went over the agenda? Pitch, then timeline and planning, then press meetings…” He says, trying to jog her memory.

“Uh-huh.” 

You can almost see her now, filing her nails before cheerleading practice. 

“Right, so now we need to plan everything out, make sure it’s practical to follow through with the pitch.” 

She doesn’t say anything, waiting for him to get to the point.

“I know we had plans tonight, but I’m going to be in and out of meetings all day, probably all weekend, then it’s going to be a media frenzy…” he says, mentally trying to fit everything into his already jam-packed schedule. 

Sitting out on the tourney field before cheer practice, Audrey pauses. A media frenzy? That’s going to give her a lot of face time, and publicity with Bennyboo. 

“I totally understand,” she starts, suddenly engaged in their conversation. Ben pauses, looking mildly confused.

“You do?”

“Of course, Bennyboo. You have fun at your meetings. Let me know the day before we start all that press so I can get a hair appointment.” She looks down at her nails, setting aside her file. “And my cuticles need some serious work…” 

“Uh…” Ben chuckles. You can tell he’s disappointed by her reaction. You are too, you just expected she’d do something like this. Ben has been trying to connect with Audrey about politics since they started dating, she said she cared about helping the people of Auradon just as much as he did, but she only said that to get closer to him, to win him over. Ben wishes she would engage with the people more, wishes he could get her to care like he does. But he knows it’s not worth a fight with her, not on a day as important as today. 

“Right, right. I’ll, uh,” He pulls out his planner, scribbling something down, “I’ll make sure you get that hair appointment…”

“And nails.” Audrey adds. 

“Right.” Ben states. You watch them say goodbye and hang up, and you can sense how unsatisfied Ben feels with that whole exchange. He needs a pick me up, he needs to be reminded about what a success today has been. You smile at him, trying to contain your excitement. One look at you and he already finds himself smiling again, thinking about what’s important. 

“So, what’s first? A meeting with Fairy Godmother, surely.” You say, seeming to read his mind. 

“Yeah,” he nods. You follow him down the hall as he begins to ramble. “We’ll need to discuss security, too. And accommodations.”

His dissatisfaction with Audrey, with her apathy towards politics fades away as he rambles to you. You agree with his plan, adding in a few vital things he hadn’t thought of. Ben feels a renewed sense of strength as you accompany him to the million proclamation meetings he has for the rest of the day. You really are his right hand man, his best friend, and he’s so grateful that you’re here for him through all of this. He knows as sure as anything that he could never do it without you. 

[mzannthropy]

Anne of the Island Book Club Chapter 36

Another good one! And a proof that LMM would have made an excellent sitcom writer.

Anne had a short sketch published! So glad for her that she didn't completely give up on her writing ambitions, even if it is just a side hustle.

Phil suggesting they should go to town and get drunk, lol, you wouldn't expect this from LMM.

Priscilla remarking that having an author live with them is a great responsibility--isn't her aunt a famous writer? Mrs Morgan? The one who came to visit in AOA? It was her aunt, wasn't it? Or some relation. Anne mentioning Averil's Atonement means she discussed that story at Patty's Place and I would like to know what they all thought of it. I think they'd be more like Gilbert, supportive. I wonder if Aunt Jamesina's remark is something LMM heard herself?

I guess I'm like Christine, bc my walk is not graceful. I'm clumsy, so what?

Well, Roy had to introduce Anne to his family at some point. They've been seeing each other for a year now and it's a sign he is serious about her. It's natural of Anne to feel daunted, as the Gardners are an old and rich family, and she has experienced prejudice about her origin, even in Avonlea.

Stella always vowed she never could write anything unless she threw each sheet down as she completed it.

This is what I wanted from this book. Chaotic scholar energy! Anne playing with cats, Priscilla baking, a cosy home-like atmosphere. Then, of course, there's a knock on the door and everyone loses their heads. The way LMM describes it is so funny.

Anne scrambled to her feet somehow, emptying two indignant cats out of her lap as she did so

They're not gonna forgive you that easily for this, you know.

And Priscilla hiding her cake under a cushion! You know how it's going to go.

Rusty and Joseph, left to themselves, began a game of chase, and sprang madly into Mrs. Gardner’s silken lap and out of it in their wild career. Mrs. Gardner lifted her lorgnette and gazed after their flying forms as if she had never seen cats before, and Anne, choking back slightly nervous laughter, apologized as best she could.

Pure comedy. Please, somebody make a film so that we can have this scene.

Inconsequently she remembered that Mrs. John Blythe was so fond of cats that she kept as many as her husband would allow.

Oh really, did she? Did she?

You'll probably never going to like every single one of your in-laws (heck, you probably don't even like every single member of you own family/extended family), so the Gardners seem quite standard. I like the name Aline better than Dorothy, though, so I wish they were swapped. But at least Aline, too, likes china dogs. Then she had to go sit on the cake, of course, so I guess she is not winning any of the book club members' hearts.

"What glorious times you girls must have here! Won’t you let me come often and have a share in them?"

Dorothy speaks for all of us.

“‘Of all sad words of tongue or pen The saddest are it might have been,’” quoted Priscilla tragically, lifting the cushion.

The lines are from a poem titled Maud Muller by John Greenleaf Whittier. Another writer also wrote a parody of it, for which I don't blame him bc it is indeed ridiculous.

“I fancy it was Roy’s mistake,” said Phil. “That boy isn’t really responsible for what he says when he talks to Anne."

We never learn whose mistake it was, so I take it that Phil's explanation is the truth. Misunderstandings and mistakes are frequent occurrences in LMM's works. Anne's adoption by the Cuthberts, the doctor in Blue Castle sending the wrong letter to Valancy, then there's a Christmas short story in which an absent minded school teacher invites the wrong family over for Christmas dinner.

Altogether a funny chapter. But the destruction of the chocolate cake is not easily forgivable.

[grayskiesandink]

I love you art! Especially when you draw nightmare! I’d like to your thoughts on 1, 13, and 22 please!

I'm going to assume this was meant for drink- and if it wasn't I apologize lol 1. Who is the better cook?

Honestly, again, this might come as a shocker- but I think Ink would be the better cook!!! Yes, Ink has a bit of a taste for burnt food. I know. But, cooking is a form of art, and I think he'd put a lot of effort into learning the craft. He'd know how to cook so he could get it burnt to his liking lol. Dream would be okay at cooking I think- he can follow a recipe without much problem. Ink would be the one to be able to use his cooking knowledge to come up with meals on the fly, though. Also, important- while Ink would be the better cook he's still chaotic about it. I just know he set something on fire once just to fuck with Dream. 13. Stay home/go-out? What are their date nights like?

Hmmm... I think a good mix, probably! I think they're often out exploring the Multiverse together, most often. I think a 'stay home' date would be them just hanging out like normal- drawing (maybe cooking) together, watching shitty reality television, or sparring. I think a 'go-out' kinda date would be Ink showing Dream a cool new AU he found, going to an art exhibit out in the Omega Timeline, having a picnic out in Outertale, or going to Ccino's cafe.

22. Love languages? How do they get around differences, if any?

I believe Dream has been taught that he should show his love & appreciation through acts of service- I think that's pretty ingrained in him. I think he might receive love best through acts of service as well- he's not used to people wanting to care for him/step up. I think generally Dream is pretty... wary about physical touch in general? I like the idea that his aura is stronger the closer you are to him, so physical contact is the strongest you will feel his aura. I also think when he's touched, that's when Dream can best read other people's emotions. So, I think usually, physical contact from Dream is something he avoids. However with Ink, since Dream's aura doesn't effect him, that doesn't apply. I think Dream is touch starved and Ink is like... the one person who is 'safe' to touch. Gifts seem to make a lot of sense, for Ink. But particularly hand made ones. Creation is the way to Ink's nonexistent soul lol. He'd feel most loved when you're giving him something you made, and he's also showing his love by giving you a bunch of stuff he's made. I also think Ink appreciates experiencing life- the creation of an experience if that makes sense. He would love trying new things with Dream, seeing new stories. I think this could fit into quality time?? Honestly, even if their love languages would slightly differ, I don't think they'd have too many issues with it. I recently came up with the idea that Ink and Dream write letters to each other- It would start because Dream's reading and writing skills (after being released from stone) were... a little rusty. So, Ink helped him learn. The letter writing started as just a way to practice, but turned into a part of their relationship. The writing helped Dream well. Get better at writing. And, it helped Ink with his memory, scribbling notes down about his week so he'd have something to write to Dream. ask game

[laismoura-art]

What if kuai and harumi had a child together?? Like what would happen during harumis pregnancy??

Hmmm, I'll be honest, I never gave too much thought into what a Kuairumi child would be like cause I never felt like dealing with the not so nice Hanzo fans claiming Satoshi erasure. It was hard enough for them to accept Harumi is with another man, imagine accept her having a baby with another man🙄

But hey, since we're here, I've got some ideas! 🩷 💙

Okay, so for starters, Harumi and Kuai would only agree to have this child once they were sure Earthrealm was... less chaotic (ain't gonna say "in peace" cause let's be real, does Earthrealm even know what peace is?? Lol!)

Kuai and Harumi already tried to prioritise their relationship in times of conflict (aka their wedding) and things ended up BAD, so they promised themselves they would only try to expand the family once they were sure this kid would be as safe as possible!

And it took them YEARS to get to "as safe as possible", years trying to amend Kuai and Bi-Han’s relationship, years fighting Multiversal threats, years strengthening their clans and alliances.

It took them a lot of patience, but finally, the day came!

°.✦

And how did Harumi handle this pregnancy?

Pretty well actually, lol!

Call her stubborn, but she refused to let her pregnancy interfere in her everyday life, she remained commanding her clan and teaching her apprentices, she wasn't engaging in kombat anymore obviously, but still went on missions as healer (she's the best healer in Earthrealm, no one would be crazy to leave her behind, lmao)!

She carried with herself only healing potions, she wouldn't risk the baby's health by bringing the poisonous ones!

She also started to rely much more on her Phytokinesis, as it gives her more long distance attacks and better defence!

Kuai and his siblings are much more protective of her now, not in a suffocating way (they know better than that) but they instinctively walk surrounding her and one of them always has an arm on her back or around her shoulders.

°.✦

Now the baby's birth was a chaotic one!

Starting with the fact that SEKTOR delivered the baby!

How did that happen? Well, if you ask Sektor, she will say it was Harumi's fault!

Harumi always insisted the two of them should go on missions together, to improve their relationship and resolve any tension left from the red wedding. Sektor always thought it was bullshit, but Harumi always had a way to be extremely persuasive!

The result was Harumi's water breaking right after they had fought a bunch of mercenaries threatening a sacred forest! And as they had killed off all mercenaries and were still in the middle of said sacred forest, there was no one else to help Harumi with that baby!

As healer, Harumi had delivered her fair share of babies, but she couldn't perform it on herself so it was up to Sektor to follow her instructions and bring his child I to the world!

Sektor would never admit it, but was TERRIFIED! Because that was her nephew/niece that was there, and their life was in her hands, hands that had taken many lives but never brought one!

But she pushed her fear aside, and with Harumi's instructions and encouraging words, the daughter of the Tengu and the Shirai Ryu was born!

They arrived pretty late and Kuai had already gathered the whole Earthrealm force to go look for them, he was relieved to see the two of them, but the feeling he felt just as he saw who was in Harumi's arms was entirely different, he doesn’t think he has ever loved someone as quickly and intensely as he loved his daughter!

• °.✦.° •• °.✦.° •• °.✦.° •• °.✦.° •

Aaaaaand that's what I have so far! I never got make pregnancy headcanons before since whenever I write Harumi she's either already a mom or too young to be one, so it was a fun first attempt!

To be honest, I'm hoping NRS doesn't give these two a kid anytime soon, I want Harumi to be playable already and I feel giving her a baby to take care of could be a sneaky solution to keep her an NPC :/ (which is bullshit, cause if even Madame Bo got to be playable (even if just as Kameo) why can't Harumi have her shot??) I trust NRS, but not that much...

Anyways, no clue what to name this baby (fan children are hardly my expertise) so I'm taking suggestions!🩷💙

[i-cant-sing]

OMG OTTOMANS MEANT Οθωμανοί! WTF I WSS READING THE WHOLE THING AND I WAS SO VONFUSED NC OH WELL THEY SOUND LIKE QUITE THE NATION BUT WHY CANT I RECOGNIZE THEM

Also I adored pt 8 , and it was so SO good

I am not familiar with Islam so the names and some of the things you talk about confuse me a bit , but google knows everything so I did some research

This has nothing to do with the story , but interesting fact: I live in greece so the ottomans are considered ' enemies ' or some shit, and you can really notice that though our history and religious books in school

Like everything is so against the religion and the nation it's stupid

I remember reading about Islam on our theology book and it was something from the koranio(I can't remember how it's called in English , but that's how we call it in greece) (I do not remember it exactly and it might not be a real translation so yeah)

The point of the two sentences that were given with no subtext were that Allah was promoting defending the Islam even with blood or something

And I specifically remember our teacher going on and on about how many deaths have been cause due to Islam (as if christians are any better). And I just stood up and told her that it is not Allah who did those things but the people who misinterpreted the book

Side note im not muslim , but I am very attracted to the religion and wanted to start some research about it and all . I dont know why but I have always felt a strange attraction to it and I wanna pursuit more

"And I just stood up and told her that it is not Allah who did those things but the people who misinterpreted the book" you get it nonnie! Smart cookie! i completely forgot about the whole greeks vs ottomans and then i remember hearing they had animosity and i was like??? because i thought they shared all the beauty and attarctive appearances of the whole world so it wouldnt make sense for them to fight? but like yes- at least from my skimmed articles, the way ottomans treated greeks was very un-islamic. all of yall have to remember that it is strictly FORBIDDEN in islam to force someone to convert.

u should definitely do some research, religion and history are always so interesting. i think i got into history due to my interest in Greek mythology (lol i played Hermes in a school activity) and i was EATING it up. It was sooooo fun to learn about all these immortals being so chaotic😭

[soaps-mohawk]

Have you ever thought about what Omega's personality type is? I kind of peg her as an INFP but I'd love to know your thoughts since you created her. I really can't place a type on any of the guys because their characters are so open to interpretation but I do think Gaz would probably be the closest personality type to her.

Okay, okay I finally took the test and answered things in the way I imagined the reader would as I characterize her (though I think this will vary depending on you the reader's perception of her) but you were very close, I got INFJ - T for her. Which I do agree with to a point. Of course, I did take into consideration that she's an omega and the way that affects her way of thinking when it comes to certain things.

Very much introverted, but most omegas are unless they're around people they know and are comfortable with. Part of that is just their natural wariness around others, especially alphas. I do think the reader in general though, aside from her being an omega, is more naturally introverted. We know she doesn't mind being alone and probably does appreciate time to herself to unwind, especially after being around the guys lol.

I could call her intuitive, since she does learn very quickly and picks up on patterns very easily, outside of her instincts helping her. She's good at piercing things together and noticing details on her own, and her instincts heighten that ability greatly in regards to things like noticing shifts in emotions due to subtle changes in scents. So again, influenced by her being an omega, but also her personality outside of her status.

Feeling very much so. Omegas are very sensitive to emotions and thrive in balanced and calm environments. They do get overwhelmed easily and they're naturally empathetic (which is why they're so easily overwhelmed and so sensitive to turmoil). The reader also is very sensitive and very much makes decisions based on her emotions. We see that with the cameras, while logically she should have told the guys immediately, hell she should have gone to Dr. Keller as soon as she noticed the door open and should not have entered the room alone in the first place. But she was so worried about how the pack would react and what might happen, so she acted on her emotions (and her trauma) and hid everything, despite her later realizing it was the wrong decision.

Judging I could see more based on omegas and their need for structure and stability. We know the reader is a bit chaotic herself, but omegas need stability in their packs and in their lives because they often get overwhelmed if there's any unpredictability in situations. This kind of plays back to the feeling part as well, as the empathy can cause instability and then their whole world can come crashing down.

The turbulent part definitely is mostly related to the omega status. Omegas, again, are very sensitive to high stress environments to the point they can shut down and distress as we've seen the reader nearly do a couple of times. Also the reader herself at least in the beginning had that drive to be the perfect omega and she was always paying close attention to details so she could better adapt to the members of the pack. Now that she's relaxed a bit with them, she cares less about being perfect, but that's something that was deeply ingrained in her and definitely lingers still in the back of her mind.

Again, this is how I picture the reader, it's not a strict answer that she can only be this. The way you might envision the reader might be totally different. Again, I am not an expert on Meyers-Briggs so this interpretation is based a lot on the things that were explained after taking the test and the little understanding I do have.

[upslapmeal]

The Devil's Chord

For context going into this episode, I can name off the top of my head.....3 Beatles songs? idk I'd probably recognise more but I was v much hoping this episode didn't hinge on having any actual emotional attachment to them lol

that kid is excellently cast, really looks the part

RIP Henry your great casting was cut short too soon

very chaotic vibes from Maestro!

the theme on the piano!!

the theme on the jukebox!!

‘I want to see the Beatles’ followed by the most cute serious face <3

sure Doctor you've never been to see them but you've had the space time visualiser!

lmao Ruby and Fifteen are so much fun

pure vibes and here for a good time!

1963!!

meanwhile One is busy kidnapping Ian and Babs lol

so. gonna guess from their faces it’s not an actual Beatles song

poor Fifteen dying at the orchestra and Ruby just 😐😐 *pat on the back*

hey it’s that lady again!

do these people look like the Beatles? I feel like they don't but again. I don't really know what they did look like

so my question with all this is.. why still make music if music isn't a thing any more?

why are the Beatles formed as a group and recording with someone encouraging them in the control room?

why even set up a recording studio at all?? I guess it speaks to the underlying human-ness of music

that even when musicality is gone, people are still forcing themselves to make some sort of music

yeah I feel like I should care more about the Beatles lol

Lennon and McCartney just. immediately baring their souls

feels weird watching this and knowing it's about someone who's still alive

'GEGGC'....ah ~~music~~

'we had bad smog in November ’62' I love how the Doctor speaks like a reminiscing Londoner bc that's what he was!!

Susan mention red alert!!!

‘timelords were murdered. :D I’M FINE’ sure

Ruby's theme!

interesting that in-universe it’s music she wrote for someone else

the giggle!!

‘you never hide’ I get that Fifteen and Ruby were instant besties but she's speaking like someone who's known the Doctor way longer than 3 adventures

the sonic screwdriver being sonic!!

RIP piano granny

‘defeating him took everything*’ * catching a ball

‘you always know’ idk if it's a symptom of the reduced episode count but it does feel like they've skipped over a fair bit of Ruby and Fifteen getting to know each other

‘I was born in 2004’ 👵🏻

oh so it’s been 6 months since the last ep??

again I guess the reduced ep count has meant speeding through but :/

‘where’s my mum’ :(((

I like the un-music that Murray Gold has going on for this bit. v effective.

child of the Toymaker??

‘now time for my ppt presentation about nuclear winter’

'the lost chord' - I feel like they could have done a lil bit more with that at the start bc it didn't feel as though the guy played anything particularly unusual or special?

lol Fifteen kissing the tardis better. I mean it seemed to work

the Doctor leaving Actual Musician Ruby Sunday in the control room while he tries to play a guitar

‘I thought that was non-diegetic’ lmao I guess it makes sense that the whole episode's music is being messed with

‘there’s a hidden song deep inside her soul’ hmmmm

...secret evil power Ruby??

excellent visual of her held up by the music in the snow

they're lucky Maestro doesn't seem interested in just. killing them.

‘music battle’ this is so weird. not sure if it's weird in a way I'm enjoying

this ep has felt a bit....meandering isn't the word but I don't know what is

lmao the nostalgic voiceover…not-Lennon totally unfazed by magical floating notes...reading them even though they absolutely cannot be read because there’s no stave

danse macabre!

it’s just so funny that it's the most boring-ass chord that defeats Maestro

the thing is the ep did v little to establish these guys as Characters To Root For outside them being Beatles and I just. don't care

I'd be interested to know if Beatles fans felt more about them saving the day

musical number!!

that shot of Fifteen vibing in the spotlight is so much fun!

and the one of him and everyone in the control room watching Ruby!

the world has been deprived of music for so long that of course it explodes into a musical number!!

and a certain Mr H Arbinger returns…I imagine that's not the last we'll see of him

what a fun end lol

I dunno about this one, it had good stuff but some of it was a bit all over the place and weird in a way that I didn't enjoy that much. And some of the music-specific stuff just idk. didn't land.

Also I rewatched the ep before editing my notes but I watched it as ep4 which honestly made Fifteen and Ruby's dynamic seem less rushed (and then there wasn't the weirdness in Boom of Ruby not going to a planet for the first 6 months of travelling).

I don't know. Mixed bag this one.

[tr0p1cal]

buy me a drink first smau

twenty two - fuck you for that

⇨ after asking and asking, Changbin finally gets to perform at the local cafes “underground”, a bar and hot spot for the college kids in The Stars basement. After his performance a stranger brings him a drink and they continue to after every show going forward. Little did they know what that kind gesture would get them in to.

general warnings: sexual themes and language, cussing, mentions and consumption of alcohol

series master

master | prev | next

not edited or prof read lol I don’t have time for all that

word count: 2k

Does it always feel like this? You couldn’t think straight, running on adrenaline and determination alone. The stairs heading down to the underground felt smaller than usual, more cramped and almost unwelcoming. Were you really going to down there to play in front of people? Could you really do that?

“Everything okay, Bee?” The voice of one of the cafe workers, Seungmin, broke you from your spiraling thoughts.

Snapping around to look at him, you offered a small smile. “Yeah, just a bit nervous is all,” you said honestly.

“Why? Did something happen with you and your friends?” He asked curiously, working on a drink from behind the counter.

“No, nothing like that. I just told Chan I’d fill in for the night,” you said as you simply lifted your guitar case and sighed. “I’m not really sure I can actually do it, but I want to try at least.”

He nodded. “I see. I’m sure you’ll be great.” He smiled, walking over to you with a cup in his hand. “Maybe this will help settle the nerves. You favorite. On the house, don’t worry.”

You laughed and took the cup with your free hand. “So, you give out free drinks, but Chan and Lixie won’t even consider the thought?”

He laughed. “Well, we’re not technically supposed to, but there’s always room for exceptions.”

You grinned. “Thank you. You really have no idea how much better I feel already.”

“I’ll see if I can make it down when I get off,” he said as he turned to walk back behind the counter. “You’ll do great.”

You took a deep breath as you took the first step down to the underground. It still felt oddly stuffy and uncomfortable, but you felt a little better after your talk with Seungmin. Taking a sip of your drink, you stared at the bright neon sign over the door. Were you really going to do great? The longer you stood there, the more your thoughts began to catch up to you again. You wanted to do this, so why did it feel so terrifying?

Pushing your anxious thoughts and feelings aside, you opened the door and walked inside. The loud, chaotic atmosphere washing you with familiarity. Taking a sharp breath, you began walking over to the stage to set up your guitar.

“Bee!” The familiar voice of one if your best friends broke through all the noise, causing you to look towards the bar. A wide, bright smile shined on his face as he waved to you.

“Lix! One minute and I’ll be right over,” you half shouted, continuing over to the stage.

You stared down at your sticker covered guitar case wondering how you managed to get yourself into this. You knew you could back out if you needed to, but you wanted to be strong and step out of your comfort zone. You could do this. You had to.

“How’s our special surprise guest feeling?” Chan said as he sat on the edge of the stage next to you.

You looked at him and smiled. “Honestly I’m really nervous, but I think I’ll be okay.”

“If it’s too much, you really don’t have to. I’ll figure it out either way. If need be we just won’t have anything for tonight,” he said, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You shook your head. “Nope! I’m here and I want to do this. Do you think I should do a cover song? I’m not sure any of my songs are actually all that good.”

“Well I’ve only heard the little bits you’ve shared, but I’ve really liked everything. You should do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

You thought for a moment. “I think I’ll start with a cover or two and go from there? Maybe I’ll play one of mine towards the end.” You shrugged, considering the possibilities.

Knowing Chan and Lix had your back made you feel better. The nerves were slowly becoming more bearable. You almost felt excited as you looked out at the strange amount of unfamiliar people at the underground tonight. You didn’t have to worry about how people you knew would react to your performance.

“Okay, you go talk with Felix for a few and I’ll get everything set up for you,” Chan suggested with a smile.

“Are you sure that’s okay?”

“Of course. It’s only a few things to get plugged in and ready, so don’t worry about it.” He nodded in the direction of the bar as he moved to grab your guitar out of its case. “Plus he really wants to talk to you, but I told him he had to stay at the bar and take care of customers.”

You chuckled. “Always have him stuck at the bar while you go have fun, huh?”

“Hey, hey, I’m still working at least,” he said with his heads up in surrender.

“Yeah whatever you say, honey.” You let out a soft laugh and headed over to the bar.

Felix’s face lit up when he realized you were coming over to him. “Oh so you’re finally done chatting with Chan, huh?” He questioned with a raised brow.

“Yeah, he finally let me leave,” you joked with a light chuckle.

“How are we feeling? Still up for playing?” He reached over the bar, softly grabbing your hand.

You smiled as you looked at his small hand around yours. “Better now. I actually think I’m kinda excited. Like the nerves are still there and I still kinda wanna go dig a hole to crawl in and hide, but I think it’ll be okay.”

“You’ll be great I’m sure! I haven’t been able to find many things you’re not at least decent at, so you’ll be fine,” he joked, light squeezing your hand.

It was nice having a friend like him. He was such a light no matter what and could make you smile even at your lowest moments. You’re truly grateful to call him one of your best friends.

“Alright! Everything is good to go. Are you sure you’re still up for it though?” Chan asked as you stood next to the stage you were about to perform on.

With a small gulp you gave him a nod. “As up for it as I’ll ever be,” you said, plastering on a bright smile.

“Okay, I’ll go introduce you.” He stepped up and the stage, walking over to the mic. As people noticed, the whole place got quite. It was always crazy to see how fast people got quiet to listen to what he had to say. “Good evening everyone, I hope you’re all having a good time tonight,” he started with a smile growing on his face. He truly looked like be belonged on stage. “If you payed attention to the board when you walked in, you’d have noticed we had a bit of a schedule change for the music tonight. I actually had to scramble all day to find someone to play tonight and just as I was going to give up, my best friend offered to do a little something for you guys.” He said as he glanced over at you with a grateful look on his face. “So yeah, let’s give Bee a warm welcome as they make their way up here!” The small crowd all clapped and you heard Felix cheering from the bar causing you to smile out at him and the rest of the people.

You felt the nerves getting the best of you, but pushed through as you grabbed your guitar and stood in front of the microphone. You took a deep breath to clam the anxiety pooling in your chest. Okay, one, two, three.

“Hey guys, how are we feeling tonight?” You asked and the room filled with cheers. “Good, good. Okay, I’ll just do some cover songs to start with, so I hope you enjoy!”

The songs went smoothly and everyone seemed to really be enjoying it. Some people were even singing along with you. Well, drunkenly yelling more so than singing, but it was enough to make you smile. Once you started your first song, all your fears and worries disappeared, allowing you to truly enjoy yourself.

~

Changbin rushed into the Star, briefly greeting the employees as he made his way to the basement door. He neared the bottom of the stairs and came to a stop, freezing with a hand on the door as he heard your voice.

He walked through the door and made his way over to the bar. Felix saw him first and shot him a confused look, having been told he was busy and wouldn’t be able to make it.

“Thought you were busy tonight?” Felix said with a raised brow.

“Yeah, things cleared up, so I thought I’d stop by to see if Chan still needed someone to perform. I can see it all got sorted though,” Changbin said as he looked over his shoulder, catching his first glance at you shining on stage. The smile that crept its way onto his face didn’t go unnoticed by Felix.

“Yeah, Bee was a true hero tonight. I’m pretty sure Chan would have lost his mind by now if not for them,” Felix said with a fond smile as he too looked over at the stage.

“Where is Chan by the way?” Changbin asked as he looked around for his friend.

Felix simply pointed to the corner of the room where Chan sat, taking with their other coworker.

“Want anything to drink since you’re here now?” Felix asked, putting his elbows on the counter and resting his chin in his hands. “Or maybe it’s your turn to by them a drink after their performance?”

Changbin glanced over to Chan and sighed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You found out Chan likes them, huh?” Changbin’s head shoot over to Felix at his words. “It all makes a lot more sense now.”

“I- okay yeah,” he said, defeatedly laying his head on the bar. “I saw Han texting you guys about that the movie night.”

Felix nodded. “I had a feeling that might hav been why you were acting weird.” He rehashed out and patted his head. “Avoiding them isn’t the right way to go about this. You and Chan are both so quick to put each other’s feelings ahead of your own.” He shook his head as he looked between the three of you. “He’s had a thing for Bee for forever, but Bee has never shown any sign of feeling that way towards him.” He reached out and lifted Changbin’s head to look at him. “You on the other hand… while they might not be the best at admitting it, I know they really like you. A lot. And not just in a friendly way.”

Changbin just stared at him. He didn’t know what to do with that information. He wanted it to be true, but he also couldn’t bring himself to even think about you in that way anymore. He didn’t want to hurt his best friend.

“Changbin? What are you doing here? I thought you had stuff going on?” Chan’s presence startled the boy in question.

Changbin jerked up to look at him and frowned. “My schedule cleared up, so I figured I’d stop by to see if you still needed someone to perform.” He felt bad for ignoring his friend when he needed help. He couldn’t bring himself to hold eye contact and that didn’t go unnoticed.

Chan looked at Felix and the two shared a few non spoken words, somehow conveying that Changbin knew everything. Chan sighed and sat next to Changbin at the bar.

“Alright, let’s just get this all out of the way. We need to get our shit together.”

a/n: there’s still a little bit left in this smau, but we are sadly coming up on the end. That means I’m working on sorting out the next one tho!! Hope you guys like a certain bunny man ;)