#it’s totally ‘on my own’ and ‘in my head’ thoughts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

navybrat817 · 3 days

Text

Hold You Tight: Part 9

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 8 | Series Masterlist | Part 10

Chapter Summary: Bucky takes you home, but will he keep his hands to himself?

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.7k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, tension, dirty talk, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and thank you for your patience! Hope you lovelies continue to enjoy. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought you heard the men wish you well once more when Bucky led you out of the office. You weren’t completely sure since you tried to block everything out, but attempting to disassociate wouldn’t exactly do you any good. The night wasn’t over yet and you had to stay sharp. You didn’t know what Bucky had planned for when he got you home. Were you prepared at all?

Not in the least.

You half expected to walk back through the front of the club to leave, but Ray directed you to a door near the back once he gave Bucky a nod. The car was waiting in the alley and you took a moment to glance up at the sky. You could only make out one star and you wished in that moment you could grow wings and fly away. But when did wishing upon a star do you any good?

“Let’s get you back to your place,” Bucky said, helping you into the car.

You had to give him credit for trying to keep up his end of the bargain by getting you home on time. Your body refused to relax though once he sat beside you and took your hand. Was he trying to get you accustomed to his touch? Make you crave him? It bothered you that in spite of your determination he drew you in to a certain degree. But you wouldn’t let him take you to bed tonight. You weren’t ready to cross that inevitable line.

Maybe, just maybe, if your performance in bed disappointed him, he’d get bored and walk away. The thought almost made you laugh. That wasn’t happening. If anything, he’d probably love teaching you how to be his perfect lover.

“I think tonight went well,” Bucky smiled.

“Which part exactly?” You mumbled, pulling your hand away. The part where he forced you to go, how his men all but admitted they knew Bucky stalked you, or how they beat the hell out of a man?

“Just the night in general. I knew everyone would love you, but I really think Thor wants to be your big brother now,” Bucky replied. You wanted it so badly to be endearing, but Thor was dangerous. He mentioned a father-in-law. How exactly did he find his wife? And bringing up the flower donations to the hospital. Bucky seemed upset. Why? “Which he’ll have to fight Steve for.”

“Fighting. You guys seem to excel in that arena,” you said, remembering how they all took turns beating up John. “But I guess Steve does have a bit of that ‘big brother’ vibe, helping you take total control of my life and whatnot.”

“Not total control. I’m still letting you work, but maybe I can buy the shop.” He chuckled at your thunderous expression. The light threat had you seeing red. “I probably shouldn't joke about that, should I?”

“Letting me work? Like it’s your decision? And don’t you dare buy the shop.” You pushed at him to keep from slapping him when he chuckled again. Not with enough force to get him far away from you, but you needed some sort of space in the vehicle. He also needed a good hit over the head. “You’re a bully, do you know that? So are your friends.”

His laughter died off quickly when he reached out and gently took your hand again, prying your fingers away from your palm. You didn’t notice it stung from your nails until he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You think we’re bullies?” He asked against your skin.

“Yes. Besides nearly beating that jerk to death, you do realize that you use force and threats to dominate and intimidate. That’s a form of bullying, Bucky,” you said. Was he deliberately being obtuse or was he lost in his delusion that this was all normal?

“I wouldn’t say we’re bullies. I call it protecting and keeping what’s mine,” he said. There was no shame on his end.

“Right. Because I’m a possession and not a person,” you said, your face scrunching up as you tried not to cry. You needed rest. If part of Bucky’s plan was to wear you down by overwhelming you, mission accomplished. “I’m so tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“You’re a person, not a possession, Kotyonok. And not just a person, a good person who gives so much of herself to others. And probably one of the only people who rightfully calls me out on my shit.” His response drew you up short. “Outside of my friends, no one else does that.”

“Maybe because they’re afraid of you and what you can do,” you said after a moment. Fear could make anyone say what they thought people wanted to hear. “Either that or they want your approval,” you added, which you could also understand to a point. People wanted a sense of belonging, especially with those who had influence and power.

“Maybe they are afraid,” he agreed, brushing his lips against your palm again with a sigh. “What is it about me that scares you most?”

“I’m not really sure exactly,” you admitted. There was so much about the situation that terrified you. What he was capable of. How he inserted himself into various aspects of your life and so quickly. How far he was willing to go to keep you. “But I think it’s your conviction. That you’re so sure that I’m your other half and no one can convince you otherwise, not even me.”

You could scream until your lungs gave out that you didn’t belong with him and you knew in your heart he’d argue until his last breath that you did. He was steadfast in that belief that you were soulmates. That conviction was so strong that what you really feared was that he would somehow convince you that he was right: that you belonged together.

Those steel blue eyes of his met yours and mesmerized you for a heartbeat before you looked away. “Love is scary. It’s natural to be afraid of it.” His lips brushed your ear, making you shiver. “But giving someone the most fragile parts of yourself is one of the bravest things a person can do.”

There was truth in his words, but it felt like he moved another chess piece into place. He was trying to disarm you and you couldn’t let him. “Who painted that black dahlia in your office?” You asked suddenly, feeling him move back enough that you could turn your head toward him. “And why display that flower?” You didn’t believe for a second that he chose it for aesthetic purposes.

“Beautiful, isn't it? Steve painted it,” he replied with an odd mixture of affection and bitterness. “It’s for my parents.”

“Steve is a gifted artist.” You hoped your voice stayed even enough that Bucky wouldn’t get jealous of you complimenting another man’s talent. “I don't know if the symbolism of flowers mean anything to you, but the black dahlia-”

“Betrayal. Sadness. Darkness,” he ticked off, his voice cold enough that another shiver moved through your body. “It was the last flower my dad ever got my mom and it serves as a reminder.”

You swallowed as warning bells sounded in your mind to tread carefully. “And what's that?”

He moved close, your eyes shutting as his hand wrapped around the nape of your neck. “That I'll never do to you what he did to her.”

There was suppressed rage within him. Sorrow. It rolled off him in waves strong enough that they could drown you. He said earlier that his dad got what he deserved. What had he done to his mom?

“You’re in pain,” you whispered. He was hurting and you logically shouldn’t care. So why did you want to know the cause of that hurt? “You have to tell me why.”

It wasn’t for you to use to your advantage. You weren’t sure if you could manipulate someone else. If you knew what happened though, it would at least give you more answers to who Bucky was and why he was the way he was. It could help you gain some sort of understanding.

“I’m not in pain when I’m with you,” he whispered, bringing your hand on his chest. Was he relying on you to chase away whatever haunted him? “Later. I’ve overwhelmed you enough for one evening.”

You let out a breath. You swore he was doing this on purpose, giving you just enough information that you’d wait around until he gave you more. “I can’t argue with you there,” you said, his heart racing under your touch. “Just answer one thing for me, please.”

“What’s that?”

“Marc from the bookstore,” you began, the man’s kind face shimmering in your mind. “Did anything happen to him?”

“I’d question another man being on your mind, but I know you’re just concerned about his well-being.” An easy smile crossed Bucky’s face as you bit your tongue. You could think about anyone you wanted to. “I can’t speak for him right this second, but he was perfectly fine when you and I left. He was just having a chat with one of my associates.”

You exhaled, thankful Marc wasn't hurt. “What kind of chat?” You asked. He was a nice guy, though he did seem to know a bit about Bucky. What exactly was he involved in?

“He just got a warning to be careful about what he does or doesn’t say to his customers.” You tensed before he kissed your forehead. Did he know about the conversation you two had? “And I don’t think the two of you should be alone with each other in the bookstore going forward.”

Just when Bucky had you feeling some sort of sympathy for him moments ago he shocked you right out of it. “Another decision that isn’t yours to make,” you stated, the car coming to a stop. “And you really don’t have to walk me up. I think we’ve had enough of each other’s company tonight.”

“I said I’m tucking you into bed and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” The smile he gave you was nothing short of cocky when he added, “And you owe me a photo. I’m going to get it.”

He was a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t let that go. “Why don’t you just take a photo of me giving you the finger?” You suggested as he helped you out of the car.

“Only if you do it with a smile. I’ll even set it as the background on my phone,” he winked. Your reluctance and defiance of him didn’t phase him in the slightest. “And if you give me the finger, I’ll take it as an invitation that you want to fuck me.”

“Let’s go, please.”

You said nothing else as you went into the building, your anxiety mounting by the second. The slow rise of the elevator didn’t help, Bucky’s hip pressed against yours like he couldn’t stand to have space between you. You figure he’d shove you against the wall and claim your mouth, but he didn’t make a move. It impressed you that he behaved until you got to your floor. It didn’t stop your hand from shaking when you got your keys out.

“Still don’t want to say good night now?”

“I don’t want to say good night at all,” he answered, following you into the apartment and turning on the light. The welcoming feeling you expected when you got home wasn't there. There was a chill in the usual warmth.

“Well, you’ll have to sooner or later,” you said, swallowing when you faced Bucky. He shut the door and watched intently as you set your keys and bag down. You were quiet as you stared back, tension thick as you tried to predict what he was going to do. Once again, he managed to hold all the power in your home.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He asked, heat and hunger in his stare as he slowly advanced.

Your throat went dry as you stepped back. “You have.”

“So beautiful and so good.” You made another move to retreat when he stepped forward, his manner confident and compelling as he reached out and prevented you from moving back further. “It’s driving me crazy not having you yet.”

“Please, you don’t…” you trailed off when he sank to his knees, unexpected heat flowing from your core. He guided one of your hands to his shoulder to brace yourself, his eyes soft as he helped remove one of your shoes. You found it difficult to breathe as he removed the other, his hand brushing your ankle with infinite tenderness. Like it was an honor to touch and be on his knees for you.

“I know the first time I taste you I’ll never want to stop. I’ll have to wake up every day between your thighs. Fall asleep that way, too.” His hand slid up your calf and his eyes darkened when your other hand found its way to his thick locks. Wetness gathered between your legs when his touch moved to your thigh. “Your pussy is hungry for me, isn’t it? My fingers, my tongue, my cock. I’ll feed her well.”

His voice was like velvet. Seductive. Aching. “Bucky…” Your breath rushed out swiftly when he kissed your mound through your clothes, tormenting you with arousal you didn’t ask for. It frightened you.

“I can smell you,” he murmured, nosing along where his lips had been before he sat back. “Smell so fucking good.”

Moving your shoes out of the way, he rose to his full height again as you willed your legs not to shake. You weren’t used to anyone looking at you, let alone speak to you, the way he did. Stark desire. Possessiveness. His form of love. Your heart pounded and you refused to answer him or glance down. If you looked at the front of his pants…

He took your hand and pulled you in the direction of the bedroom. Your heart pounded with mounting speed, your heels digging into the floor. “You still haven't kissed me,” you blurted out, hoping it would prevent him from taking you to bed. Or would he take that as an invitation to kiss your lips?

“No, I haven't.” You tried to keep some distance between you as he went to your bed, his hand moving along the blanket. You couldn't breathe. “It scares you how much your body wants mine, doesn’t it?”

“Is that what you think?” You asked, forcing air back into your lungs. It did scare you. It also scared you that you didn’t push him away or scream when he dropped to his knees to remove your shoes. Where was your fighting instinct?

“It is what I think.” The ease in which he moved away from the bed to your dresser to find your pajamas frightened you, too. Like he belonged in your room. You thought back to the night he broke in and left your gift on your bed. How much time did he take to look around? “Like love, giving your body to someone can be scary. You have to trust that you won't get hurt when you’re physically vulnerable.”

“You swore you wouldn't hurt me,” you reminded him.

“And I won't. But you know what else I think?” His magnetic gaze stayed on you as he brought a nightgown over. “That no guy has ever really taken care of you and you’re apprehensive to let me try.”

If you were apprehensive, it was because he was a walking red flag. “What makes you…” Your words stopped when he grasped the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up. Your arms instinctively went up before you realized what you were doing. Removing your shirt, you didn’t get a chance to cover your breasts before he slipped the nightgown on you.

“Your past boyfriends never did anything for you. Emotionally, physically,” he stated, sliding his hands under the nightgown to your hips. Grasping the hem of your pants, he pushed them down as far as he could. “I’ll bet they didn’t even buy you flowers and used the excuse that they didn’t because you’re a florist.”

The words were tiny cuts on old wounds, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “And you will?”

“I will. I’ll give you the life and love you deserve, making you forget any other man out there existed before me.” His eyes raked over you as you stepped out of your pants, your panties still soaked. “But I’m not gonna fuck you.”

Exhaling slowly, relief flooded you. Though you couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t trying to take what he wanted. “You won’t?”

“Not tonight.” He shook his head even as his fingers moved along your waist. “Like I said, I’ve overwhelmed you enough. Sleeping with you might really put you over the edge.”

“Thanks.” He desired you, but continued to hold it at bay for your sake. How long would that last? “I appreciate that.”

“And we both know the moment I take you to bed, you’ll be begging for more.” His voice dropped as he toyed with the soft fabric. “And as much as I want to stay in bed with you all night and morning and give us what we both crave, I still need to get things in place at the penthouse and you need rest. You understand.”

You tried not to smile and failed. He acted as if he was doing you a favor. Cocky bastard. “I guess we’ll just have to suffer until then.” Sarcasm continued to be a good way to deflect.

He exhaled at your light teasing, his body still a bit tense. Being close to you and not having you was probably driving him mad. “Maybe we'll have to have another private call and finish what we started. Give us both some relief.” He turned you toward the door and gave you a light swat on your ass. “Go wash your face and brush your teeth before I change my mind.”

You made it to the bathroom in record time, not having to be told twice. You didn’t want to risk staying there in case he lost his resolve. Looking in the mirror as you went through the rest of your nighttime routine, you expected to look more exhausted from the whirlwind of the day. You somehow looked wide awake. Was the experience giving you thicker skin? Or did his desire for you somehow give you a bit of a twisted spark? You’d still be billing him for your future therapy bills either way.

A couple of deep breaths and you made your way back to your bedroom. You paused when you saw Bucky holding a framed photo of you and your friends, longing in his eyes when he lifted his gaze. “You look so happy,” he murmured, carefully setting the frame down on the nightstand before he pulled the blankets back for you. “Can you do me one favor and I’ll go?”

“I was happy. It was a fun day.” You slipped into bed when he gave you space to do so, but his body was still close to yours. Firm. Hard. He really could pin you down and do what he wanted if he wished. “What’s the favor?”

He tucked the blanket around you, his hair falling into his face. You almost reached up to brush it back, but refrained. Who knew what your touch would do? “Look at me like you love me. Please.”

You stiffened as you stared up at his face, your heart simultaneously racing and breaking for him. Love was something that provided a sense of connection, fulfillment. It was a way to show you that you weren’t alone in the world. You wanted to believe you were worthy of love, that you could build a life with someone. Bucky believed he was that someone.

Why?

You weren’t sure if it was his yearning gaze or if you were ready for the night to end, but your expression softened as you imagined meeting him in another life. Going on fun dates, talking about books, making each other laugh as you cooked together, snuggling under a blanket as you talked about your future. You found yourself smiling at the images that went through your mind. What could’ve been. What could be if he lessened his hold a bit on you.

He audibly exhaled when he snapped a photo on his phone, making you blink. “Thank you. Now I can look at this whenever I’m not near you and need to feel your love.”

Words escaped you, the invisible collar around your throat getting tighter. You could only nod and wonder how you kept throwing fuel on the fire of his want for you. Which one of you would burn first?

“Get some sleep. Dream sweet dreams.” You felt featherlight kisses on each eyelid when you shut them. “You know, I’ll sleep a lot easier once you’re in my bed.”

“If you get me into your bed,” you mumbled, refusing to look at him.

“Stubborn kitten.” He chuckled and gave each eyelid one more kiss. Why were his lips so soft? “Maybe I’ll stop by the shop tomorrow so I can take you to lunch. You can tell Addison all about it.”

“Maybe.” You yawned and snuggled more into your pillows. “Good night, Bucky.”

A finger moved along your cheek before it stopped abruptly. “Good night, Kotyonok.”

Bucky still hadn't kissed your mouth.

You didn’t open your eyes as he left, but you didn’t fall asleep right away either. Your body was too wound up. Too many questions went through your mind. Like what happened with his parents and how exactly he’d move you out of your place.

The man was a step ahead in everything. You’d be in his penthouse before the month was over. He’d get his way, but maybe it didn't have to be his way completely. He could give you an area in the place for you and you alone. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. After all, he did say he’d make it up to you by dragging you out tonight.

And if he cared the way he said he did, he could give you that one small thing.

Is our poor Kotyonok starting to accept the inevitable? Will Bucky stop by the shop? And how much longer until he really takes you to bed?Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

504 notes · View notes

noira-l · 2 days

Text

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠

⋆ ★ '𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞' - 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

chapter summary: Megumi awkwardly asks Satoru for help with his first shave after weeks of hesitation. Despite the teasing, Satoru patiently guides him, creating an unexpected bonding moment between them.

warnings: fluff, father / son moment, slice of life, first shaving, hitting puberty, razors, a little cut (blood, just a tiny bit), teasing, Megumi is kinda awkward and Satoru is proud to be a father figure.

author's note: Oke! So! I haven't seen a fic like this anywhere (might be wrong, correct me if so), and I found the concept totally adorable and couldn't resist writing this as soon as the thought popped into my head. Hope you like interactions between them ;3

It had been a long couple of weeks for Megumi.

Every morning, he stared at the mirror, glaring at the small, stubborn patch of facial hair growing on his upper lip and chin.

At first, he tried to ignore it, thinking it might just be a phase, something that would disappear as quickly as it had appeared. But each day, it seemed to taunt him, getting thicker and darker. It was an undeniable sign that puberty, the inevitable storm he’d been trying to dodge, had arrived.

Megumi wasn’t one for asking for help, especially with personal things like this. He liked his independence, his ability to figure things out on his own.

But this?

Shaving?

This was unfamiliar territory, and though he hated to admit it, he needed guidance. He had stared at the razor his guardian had left out on the bathroom counter for a few days, feeling its weight in his hand as he practiced slow, cautious strokes in the air, too nervous to actually try it on his face. The thought of cutting himself was embarrassing enough. The last thing he needed was to walk around with a face full of tiny nicks and razor burns.

After much internal debate, he came to an uncomfortable conclusion: the only person who could help him with this was Satoru Gojo.

That realization didn’t sit well with Megumi. Of all the people to turn to, it had to be him.

Satoru was playful, unpredictable, and never missed an opportunity to tease Megumi about anything remotely personal. The idea of standing in front of a mirror with Satoru beside him, cracking jokes and treating it like some kind of bonding experience, made Megumi cringe. But, as much as he wanted to avoid it, he didn’t have a choice. If he didn’t ask Satoru, he’d have to figure it out himself - and that was a gamble Megumi wasn’t willing to take.

So, he waited.

He waited through the days when Satoru went on missions, or came home so late that he didn't manage to reach him, waited through the long silences when the house seemed even emptier without him. When Satoru was finally home at his normal evening time, Megumi knew he was out of time. He had run out of excuses.

Tonight was the night.

With a mix of reluctance and awkwardness, black haired one found himself standing outside the bathroom door, his hand hovering over it.

Inside, the sound of running water splashed against the sink. Satoru had disappeared into the bathroom minutes earlier, likely getting ready for bed after a long day. Megumi shifted on his feet, internally debating whether to knock or to just turn around and pretend like none of this mattered.

But the patchy mustache on his face wouldn’t let him ignore reality any longer.

He raised his hand to knock, hesitated, then finally let out a quiet tap against the door, barely loud enough to be heard over the sound of water. For a brief second, Megumi hoped maybe Satoru hadn’t heard it, and he could walk away. Maybe he could figure this out some other time, when it didn’t feel quite so embarrassing.

The hope didn’t last long.

There was a pause before the door swung open.

Satoru stood there, relaxed as usual, with a long shirt on and a towel slung over his shoulder. His white hair was still damp from the shower, with a few strands falling sloppily across his forehead. A small smile appeared on his face when he saw Megumi standing with her hands clumsily folded, trying to look indifferent.

"Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite brooding teenager." Satoru greeted, leaning casually against the doorframe, he mischief in his voice unmistakable "What’s up?"

Megumi shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the floor before looking up at Satoru with a faint scowl.

"I, uh… I need your help with something."

Satoru raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued "My help? With what exactly?" his grin widened as if sensing the awkwardness radiating off the kid "Come on, spill it. What’s the big deal?"

Eyes lowered to the floor, a faint scowl replacing any response. Megumi let out a frustrated breath, clearly uncomfortable "I… I need to learn how to shave."

For a second, there was silence. Then, predictably, Satoru's grin morphed into a wide, amused smile.

"Oh, this is amazing." he said, unable to contain his laughter "You, Megumi Fushiguro, the kid who broods his way through everything, needs my help with shaving? Oh, this is great. Really great."

Megumi rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest "I knew this was a mistake." he grumbled, turning as if to walk away "Forget it, I’ll figure it out myself."

But before Megumi could take a step, Satoru reached out and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back toward the bathroom.

"No, no, wait, don’t be like that. I’m just messing with you!" he said, though the smirk hadn’t left his face "Come on, let’s do this. It'll be fun."

Megumi frowned, but he didn’t resist as Satoru ushered him into the bathroom.

The space was bright and the counter was cluttered with Satoru's various personal care products, though half of them looked like they hadn't been touched in months. The smell of shower gel was in the air. The older one crossed his arms, looking far too pleased with himself as he eyed the younger one’s face with exaggerated seriousness.

"Alright, kiddo, let’s start by taking a look." the older said with exaggerated seriousness, leaning in to inspect Megumi's face "Ah yes, a fine crop of peach fuzz, right here." he teased, poking lightly at his upper lip.

Fushiguro scowled, batting his hand away "It’s not that bad."

"Relax, it’s a rite of passage." Gojo replied, turning to rummage through the cabinet "Ah, here we go! Shaving cream, razor, aftershave… hmm, now do I trust you with a razor, or do I need to call in a professional?"

"Just get on with it." Megumi glared at him, exasperated.

Satoru chuckled, but didn’t push it further. He grabbed one of many razors in a multipack from the cabinet and handed it to Fushiguro with a grin.

Black haired stood in front of the bathroom mirror, now smeared with a bit of condensation from Gojo's recent shower. The weight of the razor in his hand felt strangely significant, like it was a test of maturity that he wasn’t quite ready for.

Awkwardness lingered, thick and undeniable. Satoru stood beside him, fiddling with his own razor as if this were a casual activity they did every day, his usual playful smirk tugging at his lips.

"So! Just like there are many cursed techniques..." he began, his voice dramatic "... there are also many techniques for shaving. Some are more efficient than others, but today, I’m going to reveal to you my own secret shaving technique."

He turned the faucet on, letting the water warm up before grabbing a washcloth and handing it to Megumi "Okay, first, wet your face with warm water. Opens up the pores or whatever."

He followed Satoru’s instructions, wetting his face, though he still looked like he wasn’t entirely convinced this was necessary.

White haired one then shook the can of shaving cream dramatically before squeezed some into his palm and handing it to kid next to him "Now, the magic foam. Lather it up."

Fushiguro did as he was told, applying shaving cream to his face while Satoru stood beside him, doing exactly the same thing as he did.

"Don’t go too heavy. Just enough to cover your face, but not so much that you can’t see what you’re doing." he spread the foam evenly across his own face, demonstrating as he spoke "See? A nice, thin layer. You wanna feel the razor, not get lost in a mountain of foam."

He felt so awkward, like he was painting his face, but Gojo was watching him with a surprising amount of patience.

"Not bad, not bad." Satoru said, nodding approvingly "But don’t forget the neck, unless you’re planning on walking around with half your face looking clean and the other half looking like a scruffy mess."

"Can you be serious for once?" Megumi muttered, focusing on spreading the cream evenly to his neck as well, trying to remember all the steps Satoru had demonstrated earlier.

Satoru just grinned wider.

"Where’s the fun in that? Alright, now for the tricky part. The razor. You wanna go with the grain, not against it, or else you’ll end up with cuts and looking like you’ve been attacked by an army of tiny knives. That's funny, I had a situation like that in real life!"

Gojo demonstrated by making movements in the air, not yet applying a piece of plastic to his face. Megumi tried to feel with his hand how he should turn the tool, so that it would go as smoothly as the older one next to him.

"Always go slow. If you rush, you’ll look like you’ve been in a fight with a cat and lost. Here’s the trick." Satoru said, lifting the razor and positioning it carefully against his neck.

"Start with the neck. It’s the easiest place to mess up, but also the easiest place to correct." Satoru explained, his tone suddenly more serious, as though he was giving instructions for something far more important than shaving "Just avoid too much pressure on Adam's apple and move slowly."

Megumi watched intently as Gojo carefully and precisely glided the razor down his neck, avoiding the sensitive area with practiced ease. Fushiguro, feeling a little more confident, brought the razor up to his own neck and mimicked the movements.

"Like this?" he asked, his brow furrowing in concentration as he worked alongside the white haired one, both of them standing side by side in front of the mirror.

"Exactly. Nice and steady." Satoru said, casting a sidelong glance at the younger one "Not bad, kid. Now, once you’ve got the neck down, you can move on to more complicated terrain." he watched as Megumi did a few strokes across his neck, he waited patiently for him to finish.

Satoru finished shaving his neck with ease "Don’t forget to rinse the blade after a couple of strokes." he did just that, risning the razor in boiling hot water. Then turned his attention to his chin. He lifted the razor, positioning it just below his lower lip.

"Now we move on to the chin. Gotta be careful here too, or you’ll end up looking like you lost a fight to a particularly angry porcupine."

Fushiguro followed suit, doing his best to replicate the careful movements his guardian was demonstrating. The two of them stood shoulder to shoulder, both razor-clad hands gliding across their skin.

It felt oddly… normal. Like this was something they did all the time, though it was far from their usual interactions.

"You know, I wasn’t really blessed with much facial hair. Genetics didn’t think I needed a full beard to complement my already perfect looks. But who knows, Megumi - you might end up with more to shave than I do."

Fushiguro huffed, concentrating on his strokes "Yeah, lucky me."

Satoru’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he continued to shave "Maybe you’ll be able to pull off that rugged look, huh? The ladies love that. But me, well, everything went into my other attributes." he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Can you just focus?" he nearly nicked himself.

Gojo chuckled "That’s what I should told you, you need to stay focused. Look at that - you’re getting distracted."

Black haired one glanced down and saw that he’d missed a spot on his chin. He muttered something under his breath, but quickly corrected his mistake, his movements now a little more cautious.

Gojo finished faster than him, completely avoiding the cheek area, as he mentioned he had absolutely nothing to shave there, so he washed his face straight away, wiping it with a towel.

Fushiguro, on the other hand, had a few randomly distributed hairs in different areas that he managed to shave off quickly, starting to catch on to how he should direct the blade to get the best effect.

"You know..." his guardian said, leaning against the counter "... you’ll be doing this more and more. Puberty’s a relentless thing. Before you know it, you’ll be shaving almost every day."

Megumi sighed "Great. Just what I wanted."

He was almost finished, but just as he reached a particularly tricky spot, the razor snagged slightly, catching on his skin. He stuttered in his movement, flinching slightly as the blade nicked him.

"Hold up." Satoru said immediately, catching the motion out of the corner of his eye "I told you. You’re not fighting a curse here, no need to rush."

Megumi frowned, frustrated with himself, dabbing at the small cut "Yeah, yeah. I’m fine."

Gojo gave him a knowing smile, though it was softer this time "Just a small nick, no big deal. Happens to everyone the first time."

"Even you?" Fushiguro asked, though there was a hint of skepticism in his tone.

"Especially me. You should’ve seen my first shave. Looked like I went head-to-head with a blender." a wide grin appeared on the pale face.

"I doubt that."

The last bit of cream disappeared from the young teenager's face. He turned on the tap and rinsed off the rest of the little white lines that remained on his face. The towel absorbed the drops of water that ran down his neck.

He glanced at himself in the mirror. Instantly better. Although he reproached himself for the little scratch, Megumi was genuinely pleased with the effect he had achieved. Finally he wouldn't have to be embarrassed at school about how he looked.

Satoru, standing beside him, seemed far too proud.

"Look at that! Clean as a whistle." he said, examining his face with exaggerated approval "Not bad for your first time. But we’re not done yet."

"Huh? What now?" Fushiguro groaned internally, shooting his guardian a sideways glance.

He didn't understand a bit, after all he had just finished, what does this annoying type still want from him? It's enough that he feels stupid sitting here with him anyway, asking him for help.

"The grand finale." Satoru announced, picking up a small bottle of aftershave from the counter. He wiggled the bottle in front of the teen's face like it was some kind of treasure "Aftershave cream!"

"What’s it for?"

Gojo uncapped the bottle, squeezing a small dollop of the aftershave cream onto his palm "It’s for soothing the skin after you’ve shaved, kid. Makes sure you don’t end up with razor burn. Plus, it smells nice - very sophisticated, like you’re someone important."

Megumi raised an eyebrow, unconvinced "You sure it’s not just another way for you to mess with me?"

Satoru gave a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. "You wound me, Megumi. This is the real deal. You’ll thank me later."

He rubbed the aftershave cream between his hands and then gently applied it to his own face, patting it onto his freshly shaven skin with practiced ease.

"You don’t need too much, just a little to cover the areas you shaved. Trust me, it’s important. Otherwise, your face will feel like it’s on fire later."

Fushiguro eyed the bottle warily but took it from Gojo’s hand. He squeezed a small amount into his palm, hesitating for a moment before rubbing it between his hands and awkwardly patting it onto his face like the older one had done.

"Don't rub it in like you're washing your face." the older one said, grinning as he observed his technique "Just tap it on. Light touch. Gotta treat your skin like it's worth something."

Megumi muttered something under his breath, but adjusted his approach, patting the aftershave onto his cheeks and chin. The cooling sensation spread across his skin, soothing the slight irritation left from the razor.

"See?" Satoru said, giving a nod of approval "Nice and smooth. And now you smell like a responsible young adult."

"It’s... strong." black haired couldn’t help, but wrinkle his nose at the scent

White haired laughed, clapping Megumi on the shoulder.

"Yeah, but it fades pretty quickly. Besides, it’s part of the process. Get used to it - you’ll be doing this more and more."

Megumi wiped his hands on a towel, his face still tingling slightly from the aftershave. He looked in the mirror, taking in the results of his first proper shave. He looked good, like his normal self he was used to.

Satoru stood beside him, admiring his own reflection with a satisfied grin.

"Now you’re officially a man. Or at least, a step closer to it."

There was no respond to that, just flicker in younger eyes, as if he realised something.

Satoru grabbed the aftershave bottle and put it back on the counter, then turned to Megumi with a grin.

"Next time, we’ll get into the more advanced stuff. Maybe I’ll even teach you about beard shaping."

"I’m never growing a beard." Fushiguro shot him a flat look.

Gojo chuckled in respond.

"That’s what they all say. Just wait until it sneaks up on you."

The teen shook his head, already done with the conversation, but despite himself, he felt a small sense of relief. This whole shaving thing wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it would be, and Satoru - teasing aside - had actually been helpful. Weirdly enough, it was kind of nice having him around for things like this.

"Alright, shaving master..." Satoru said, throwing his arm around his shoulders as they left the bathroom "...let’s go show off that baby face to the world. And remember, every time you shave, think of it as another step toward adulthood."

"Pretty sure it’s just a step toward more chores." he snorted in respond.

Gojo grinned "Exactly! You’re getting it."

Megumi, now freshly shaved stood at the door of his bedroom, watching as his guardian stretch his arms above his head with a satisfied grin.

"Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?" Satoru asked, still clearly pleased with himself as he prepared to head to your shared bedroom.

Fushiguro shifted his weight from foot to foot, his eyes flicking down to the floor as he cleared his throat.

"Yeah, it was… fine." he muttered, glancing up briefly before looking away again.

There was a pause, then he added, barely audible "Thanks for the help."

Satoru turned toward him, his grin softening into something more genuine. He walked over to Megumi and gave him a playful pat on the shoulder, though his tone had a rare warmth to it "Anytime, kid. And hey - don't be embarrassed. You did good."

Megumi's face flushed slightly, and he gave a small nod before opening the door "Good night, Gojo."

Satoru smirked, watching him go.

"Good night, Megumi." he called after him, amusement dancing in his voice.

As Satoru lay back on the bed, a quiet sense of softness washed over him.

He hadn’t expected Megumi asking for help with something as simple as shaving to hit him like this. For all the teasing and playful banter, there was something deeper - Megumi was growing up and Satoru felt like he was more than just a protector, guardian or teacher.

He was part of that growth.

And he couldn't be more proud.

tl: @kalopsia-flaneur

#gojo and megumi #years to come #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #years to come series #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu gojo #jjk #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu megumi #jjk megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #fushiguro #kid megumi #father son bonding #dad gojo

234 notes · View notes

ladykailitha · 2 days

Text

A Love Connection Part 1

In a very special engagement (as in a don't normally post 5 days a week), I introduce "A Love Connection"!

If the premise looks familiar the original idea is from here, where a couple of people in the notes or tags said they'd love to try it. And after a year, I figured I'd try my own hand at the idea.

This will update on Tuesdays at 10am and 10pm EST. With hopefully eight chapters.

Summary: Steve has tried everything under the sun to find someone to truly connect with, so he gives up after a particularly horrible date. Then Chrissy introduces him to her favorite game show "Love Connection". When Chrissy and Robin apply for him, they don't think they'll except him, but he does. His suitors are Billy Hargrove, Tommy Hagan, and Eddie Munson. Will Steve crash and burn again or will his connection be there waiting for him?

Look, to say Steve’s love life was a disaster would be unfair. That would be underselling it. It was a fucking catastrophe. He had gone to bars, joined hobby groups, used all the apps, even Grindr; though that was mostly for hookups, which sucked. But that was the nature of the beast if he was honest.

And the beast had completely devoured him. All his dates were either only interested the casual, cheated on him, or wanted one-night stands. Which Steve absolutely did not want. He wanted connection. Intimacy.

“I absolutely give up,” he whined to Robin, after the last date tried to slip out in the middle of the night, knocked over their lamp into their goldfish bowl, killing the goldfish, then he tried to hide the evidence by dumping it down the garbage disposal and turning it on! Lied about it, then stole their last beer as “compensation for his trauma’ and told Steve to never call him again.

“Look, Ryan wasn’t the best guy,” Robin replied with a grimace. “He liked Oasis and Tool unironically. Always a red flag.”

Steve snorted. Robin was a music snob most days, but she wasn’t wrong about that. Ryan and he had been dancing around and with each other for weeks before they finally got so hot and heavy that they went back to Steve’s for sex.

“It’s not fair,” he huffed. “You went to that bar and you a hottie girlfriend and I went to that bar and fucked a fish killer! I loved Garfield! He lived for five years before that bastard mercilessly murdered him. That’s long than my last ten relationships combined!”

Robin winced. “Ooh... I’m going to have to call Chrissy and let her know we can’t go back to that gay bar again.”

“Oh he’s so dead now!” Steve ranted. “Not only is he fish killer, he has driven us from our favorite bar!”

“Let me order us some take out,” Robin said standing up, “then I’ll call Chrissy over and we’ll all cry over Ciarán Hinds and Amanda Root falling in love.”

Steve sniffed away a couple of tears and nodded. “Then can we have a funeral for Garfield?”

Robin tilted her head and smiled sadly. “Of course we can. It’s a Sunday so none of us have work. We can watch as many weepy romance movies as you want, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve croaked. She gave him a big hug and kissed his cheek. He watched her wander into the kitchen to see what leftovers they had in the fridge so they could order from somewhere else. He loved her so much.

Sometime in the afternoon when they were more than a little tipsy, Chrissy commandeered the remote and turned on her favorite game show.

“Love Connection”

“Noooo...” Steve whined, burying his head into a throw pillow. It was Garfield shaped. It was what inspired the naming of the valiant fish. “This is the last thing I want to see. It’s so fake. No one gets together on these things. It’s so cheesy.”

“Exactly!” Chrissy crowed. “That’s why it’s perfect, we get to make fun of them!”

Steve thought that the only good part of the show was the second half. The first half was split into three different rounds. The first round was each suitor answer the one question, for a total of fifteen and then the catch would rank them, best got three points, second two, and third only one.

Then in the second round there were a set of rapid fire either or questions that the catch would yell out and the suitors would write down their answers. If their answer matched the catch’s they would get a tally. Whoever had the most tallies would win five points. Then three points to second place and one to the last place.

Then in the final round, each suitor would be asked separate questions and the catch would rate their answer one through three and that’s how many points they would get. Then at the end of the round all the points would be tallied up and the two highest would move on to the next round.

To the part that Steve actually liked. The first question always asked was “what would you do for a first date?” And the suitors got to take the catch out for the date and then afterward for drinks, the two dates would ask the catch some of the questions he asked them. Then the catch would pick the one they connected to the best.

It was all the stupid questions that bothered Steve. That was the fun part of dating, having these conversations and learning about them as you go. But then maybe that’s what Steve’s problem was, is that the people he dated didn’t care about these types of conversations.

“Why would you say you hate sports,” Steve huffed, waving his hand at the screen, “when the guy is a major soccer fan? Like did she think that she was going to put a stop to him enjoying it after starting dating?”

“Ooh yeah,” Chrissy agreed. “Just pick a different catch.”

Robin turned to her and tilted her head. “Do they get to chose their catch? I thought it was all random.”

Chrissy paused the show and pulled out her phone and the Wikipedia article. “Okay, it says here that people can apply to be suitors,” she waved at the row of women in the three booths. “Or catches.” She indicated the guy with her hand. “If they’re chosen to be a suitor then they are given a list of catches, headshot included. Then they rank vote them, so if four people pick Henry, then one will be on their second rank vote. And that part is randomized. According to them, anyway.”

Steve snorted. He highly doubted anything was randomized or voted on. They went for the biggest drama and everyone knew it.

“How long has this show been going on?” he huffed. “Like please tell it’s new and shiny and that’s why people like it.”

Robin snorted and shook her head. “Sorry, babe. But this is season twelve.”

“Oohh...” Chrissy said. “We need to show him the season six finale. That was hella juicy!”

So despite Steve’s protests, Chrissy pulled it up on her streaming services even though they hadn’t even finished the episode they were on.

When the credits rolled, Steve stared at the screen in utter shock. “What the honest fuck was that?”

Two of the three guys got into an all out brawl when the one guy had scored the lowest and felt that the second place suitor cheated. Not first place, second. Both guys were arrested and hauled off the set.

“It came out later Sven was right,” Robin said. “Elliot cheated. His cousin was an ex of the catch so he went in knowing a lot about Stella. The things he got wrong were things that had changed since she was dating his cousin.”

Chrissy nodded. “That’s why the have partitions up between the suitors now and why they have vigorous screening now. The show was almost canceled.”

“So why wasn’t it?” Steve asked honestly. “That was a shit show, if I was Stella I would have sued them into oblivion.”

Robin squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. “She did, but they settled out of court.”

“Basically,” Chrissy said, pouring them more wine and handing the first glass to Steve, “she wanted them to completely overhaul the system. She didn’t want it off the air, she wanted it safer for future participants.”

“The more the fool them,” Steve huffed. He took a long sip of his wine. “All right, fine. Let’s start at the beginning.”

Robin and Chrissy cheered and they all huddled up together on the sofa to watch this absolute train wreck of a show.

They were about half way through the third season and twice as drunk when Steve slurred, “Why are there no gay peemles in this? It’s a trav–trad–tramajesty.”

“Travesty!” Robin slurred back, her language skills always being the last to go when she’s three sheets to the wind. “And you are absolutely right! This is homophobic!”

Chrissy nodded solemnly and pulled out her phone. “I’mma show them...” she muttered with her tongue sticking out. “At loveconnectionUSA Need more gays, hashtag loveconnection hashtag need more gays.”

It wasn’t long after that that the three of them passed out on the sofa, empty bottles all around them and a message on the screen asking if they’re still watching.

There was a loud beeping noise and it absolutely was hurting his head. He reached over to where his phone was usually plugged in on his nightstand, but his hand went straight through it. He waved his arm all over the place but still his nightstand eluded him.

He peaked open one eye but his vision was obscured by a mass of blonde hair. He tried to push it out of the way but it kept falling back into his face. Finally he pushed Robin off him and onto the floor with a thud.

“Hey!” she yelped.

Steve peered over the edge of the sofa with a look of confusion. “Why are you on the floor?” he muttered over the still beeping of his alarm.

“Stop!” he mumbled and somehow, blissfully it did.

“I’m on the floor because you pushed me there,” Robin huffed, getting to her feet. She did a sniff test and grimaced when she completely failed. “God... how much did we drink yesterday?”

Chrissy struggled to sit up and blinked at her girlfriend groggily. “Not enough if I feel like this.”

Steve rolled over and looked at them both in confusion, then the events of Saturday and all day Sunday came flooding back in.

“Oh fuck...” he muttered, sitting up himself and rubbing his face. One eye was blurry from where his contact had shifted in the night. He wasn’t even sure why he had them on. Probably from sheer force of habit.

He got up and stumbled toward the bathroom where he emptied his stomach of all its boozy contents. He really didn’t remember them eating after breakfast, only a steady stream of harder and harder liquor.

While his was puking his guts out, Chrissy and Robin stole the shower. Thankfully only taking the time they needed to get the gross feeling of being hungover off their skin.

Then Steve closed his eyes as they exited the shower and snuck into Robin’s room to get ready for work. They all worked at Hawkins Middle School, where Steve was a history teacher who coached swimming and basketball. Chrissy was a health teacher and advisor for cheerleading. And Robin was the language teacher. The principal snatched her up because she could teach French, Spanish, and Italian, with her only needing to hire a German teacher.

Steve got his shower and then opted for glasses instead of his contacts, not trusting his shaky hands not poke out his eye or some shit.

They all were mostly human once they got coffee, painkillers, and cereal in them, the three of them, no doubt looking like escaped extras from a zombie flick. They moved as one, gathering up their stuff and shuffling out to Steve’s car. Chrissy sat in the back, Robin riding shotgun.

Chrissy opened her phone to check to see if she had any messages. “Holy shit!”

Part 2

Look I'd be sorry about the cliffhanger, but you're only waiting 12 hours for it, soooo...

Have fun!

Tag List: TEN SLOTS OPEN

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #game show au #tw: pet death #buckingham #not billy hargrove friendly #tommy hagan #everyone is gay

92 notes · View notes

wrennyfics · 2 days

Text

sub!snape headcanons :)

{part one}

im working on some sub!snape fics rn (ur requests), but in the mean time... have this

im high. so i apologize if thiss is a mess. pls ignore the grammar or whatever

warnings: NSFW, explicit, smutty (MINORS DNI OR I STG)

alright here we go (virgin, inexperienced, sub!snape)

My headcanons about...

Kissing: I honestly, this is kinda sad, but i imagine that sev was always really scared to be kissed because he thought it would be a prank. The first time you kiss him would have to be somewhere private, for this reason and the fact he hates pda, and you'd have to ask him. (i mean obviously, consent is important folks) but i mean, like literally verbally, "Severus, can I kiss you?" And i think at first his face is just blank, like hes trying to figure out if you're serious, amd he gets all flustered, and blushing and like "i, uh, you want.. are u sure? i.." or he is literally speechless and just nods

Kissing Cont. As the kissing gets more intimate i feel like hed be breathing pretty heavily. we know this man is skilled at occulemency and can control his emotions sooo well.. but when it comes to this... i think that man lets it go and is just a shaky, panting, flustered mess

Teasing: Especially in the beginning, he doesn't like to tease you or make moves. One, he's impatient. Two, he doesn't really know what to do and is scared of doing the wrong thing and messing up. But the second you start kissing on his neck... Running your hands down his body...

Preferences: sub!snape i think def prefers gentle!dom. i don't think he'd be totally against pain or stuff like that... but especially at first and for the most part, imo he would prefer to be taken care of. like lets bffr, his entire life he was neglected, touch starved and forced to always be in control. I think he would crave giving in, letting someone else control him

Prefrences Cont. He keeps his clothes on, especially at first. prob the trauma, mixed with insecurity, mixed with a bunch of other fun stuff. But at first, he is nearly fully clothed.

Kinks: Praise. 100%. And if you asked him before you guys had had sex about praise he probably would've scoffed. But the second you're on top of him the first time, moaning his name, saying how good hes making you feel, how well he's going... I think hes like o h. also slight degredation

Kinks cont. I don't think he'd like to be tied up tbh. as pretty as that'd be.. i think he'd need to touch you, feel you, his hands roaming everywhere. being pinned down by your wrists is different tho

Fav positions: when he's sub! he def likes you riding him, pinning his wrists down, taking what you need from him. he gets to see your whole body.. and relax for once and be a lil selfish in his own pleasure

Oral: sub!snape def prefers to give as opposed to recieving, i think this about dom!snape too, but especially about sub!snape. especially when you ride his face, when he gets to look up at you, watch your face contort in pleasure... especially when you grind down on him, but giving sub!snape head is like, a religious experience fam. on jah, on your jaw, dun dun tiss. yea that man is a shaking, whimpering mess, his hands clawing at the sheets, panting, cursing, begging. yep

His first time: lets be honest guys. he aint lasting long. but i think he would be like THIS? is what its like? and then proceed to overexhaust himself by going ten times because how in the world had he never felt this before.

misc.

he never used to touch himself much, insecurity and yk depression, but since you... whenever you're gone... he fucks his pillows yep i said it.

he def likes to edged, and having to beg for it. idk why, but i'd die on this hill.

he blushes so easy. like so easy. the man is so pale, one compliment or small kiss and his face is red

he's relatively quiet. he's verbal, but doesn't moan very loud. more so whispers, begs, quietly.. especially at first when he's more shy. but when he starts to get desperate, maybe after a lil bit of edging... he whimpers when he cums and thats just the truth

but if you compliment those whimpers.. tell him how much it turns you on.. he'll let them out even more

building on that, he wants to please you. be good for you. know that he's doing it right. in a horny way and also in a kinda emotional like.. she really does want me look at how shes reacting kinda way

loves to watch your face when he's making you cum

the first time you pull his hair hes like oh....

needs a lil extra aftercare after being sub! cause its a very vulnerable thing for him.. but his fav is just to lie there, cuddle you, bonus points if you praise him and tell him how proud you are of him

this was shameless.

cheerio xx

#severus snape #pro snape #severus x reader #snape x y/n #snape fic #snape smut #severus smut #smut #severus #snape fandom #snape #severus snape headcanons #professor snape #snape headcanon #sub!character #pro severus #snape fanfiction #snapedom #snape community

91 notes · View notes

activesplooger · 3 days

Text

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 | 𝐿𝓊𝒸𝒾𝒻𝑒𝓇 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 | 𝐻𝒶𝓏𝒷𝒾𝓃 𝐻𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓁 | 𝐹𝓁𝓊𝒻𝒻

Notes: hiii <3 i hope ygs like this!! im not great at fluff, ill admit BUT lucifer is j so babygirl so it turned out pretty cute!! im writing this fresh out of a writing block so sorry if it isn;t my best, i promise ill do better luci fics in the future!! <33

Summary: You made the drunken choice of sleeping with your friend, whom you've always had a crush on. It's the morning after and your mind races with the possibility of this being a one-time deal. However, Lucifer makes it clear that he's in this for the long run...

CW: fluff!!! (angst just a weeee bit)

Word Count: 1,184 (bit of a short one)

Masterpost!

Sunlight light filters through the blinds of your window, effectively waking you up from your slumber. You groggily sit up, putting a hand to your throbbing forehead. "Ughh..." you groan as you feel the effects of a hangover coming along.

Last night, you and your friend went to the bar for drinks and a general catch-up on life. The two of you had way too much to drink and got absolutely wasted. Friendly flirting turned into drunken caresses and somehow escalated into Lucifer pressing you against the wall of your apartment as you made out. And now, you're here. Yeah, it was kind of a blur...

You turn to look at the space next to you on your bed. Empty. "Fuck" you mutter, dragging a hand down your face as you try to process everything. He had left. Shit, what'd you expect? You try to downplay it as another meaningless one-night stand, but truthfully, you hoped this was more than a brief sexual connection. Your feelings for him got the better of you last night, and now he's gone...

At least with the one-night stands, they gave enough red flags to give you an idea of what you're getting into. But Luci? He's such a sweetheart, well, you thought he was... He'd always do sweet little gestures: hugging, making plans to hang out, complimenting, gifts, favors- the whole 5 love languages! Was this all just friendly behavior? You were sure he at least had some type of feelings for you. Maybe it was just sexual attraction. Still, Lucifer seemed different than the others.

Letting out a grumpy whine, you hop out of bed and slip on a robe and slippers. As you stand up, you get the faint whiff of- pancakes? Curiously, you step out of your room and peek into the kitchen.

To your surprise, you see Lucifer standing at the stove, humming the tune of a song while flipping a pancake. He slides the pancake off the pan and onto a plate. He repeats this process until he makes a stack of pancakes topped with butter, syrup, and whipped cream. You continue to watch the angel from the doorway, still not believing that he really stayed.

Lucifer picks up the plate and turns around. His eyes fall on you as he turns, your presence catching him off guard. "AH!" he shrieks, losing his grip on the plate before grabbing it back. Sighing in relief, he smiles at you, "Ah, there you are, my dear! How'd you sleep?". Still in shock that he didn't leave, you manage to murmur, "You're still here...?".

"Yes?" he replies, head tilting in confusion, "why would I leave?". "Well, I thought you would've-" you start to explain, but you decide against it. His little heart would prob break if he knew that you thought he'd leave, “Never mind. A-anyways, what's that you're making?”.

The angel looks up at you with a soft smile as he holds out the plate to you, “Pancakes.”. Taking the plate from him, you look down at the food. The pancakes were light and fluffy, perfectly cooked to a golden brown with neatly placed toppings. “Thank you, Luci…”.

Walking toward your kitchen table, you take a seat. Lucifer grabs his own plate of pancakes and quickly follows behind you, sitting beside you.

The room fell silent, the only sounds being the clanking of cutlery and the soft sound of chewing. Your mind was too busy trying to comprehend the fact that the angel wasn't being a total dick to you right now. Your eyes stay fixed on the plate below you, afraid that if you look up, he might take a second look at you and leave... Do you deserve his kindness? You sure felt like you didn't. But here you are, eating pancakes with the most beautiful angel in creation.

You finally pry your eyes away from your plate and look up at him. He's humming the same tune from before while eating his pancakes. There's a gleeful smile on his face that you can't help but admire. He's absolutely ethereal. Looking at him brings you out of your state of self-doubt and builds a determination in you to fight for this angel. You didn't want for him to go, and you were gonna do everything you could to make sure he wouldn't. Something in your gut told you to hang onto this one.

Suddenly, Lucifer's eyes meet yours, a cheeky grin stretched across his face, "See somethin' you like~?". Ah shit, your little staring session was interrupted! Pink dusts your cheeks as you feel your face getting hotter. You struggle not to stumble over your words, "I- Uh- Well-." A giggle cuts you off, "Don't be so embarrassed! It's cute.". Exhaling softly, you softly smile at him. He thought you were 'cute'...

You go back to eating your pancakes, the word 'cute' repeating in your mind as you relish that he thinks of you like that. Smiling to yourself as you eat, you suddenly feel a pair of eyes on you. Lifting your head up, you make eye contact with Lucifer. The angel beams at you, but there's a mischievous element to his expression. Swallowing your food, you ask, "What's that look for?".

Lucifer gets up out of his seat and rushes toward you. He lifts you up effortlessly and carries you across the room. When you try to protest, all you get in response are giggles. Stopping at the couch, he gently tosses you down on the cushions. You speak between amused laughter, "Pft, what the hell are you doing?".

Lucifer leaps onto the couch and onto you, his arms wrapping around you and flipping the both of you so that you're on top of him. A small "Umph!" escapes your throat as he lands on top of you, but you melt is his embrace as your laid on top of him.

"Soooo," he begins, "Here's what I was planning...". You tilt your head up at him, listening to what he has to say. " First, eat a delicious breakfast, check," his hands tangle in your hair, playing with the silky strands as he speaks, "Thennn, I was hoping- I-If you're up for it, of course! Maybe we could go for a walk in the park and grab lunch?". Lucifer scans your face for your reaction, panicking a little as he wheezes, "U-Uh unless you have plans! Oh God-".

"You want to?" you ask softly. "Well, of course. You're lovely..." he admits sheepishly. You feel a grin creeping out through your teeth. Before, you were worried that he wouldn't stay- Now you're not sure if you could get him to leave! (not that you wanted to of course). Nodding your head, you agree, "Of course, that sounds great!".

The rest of the day goes great! You both finally have a sober talk about your feelings for eachother, getting your feelings off your chest. The two of you spend the rest of the day together, cuddling, going out for lunch, and ending the day off with a bit of 'intimate time'. <3

<333 enjoy! i love him sm akfiuefhiuswfwenfwnfkwef. this isn't edited. i finally sat my ass down and wrote again so yayy!!!!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin x reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer x reader #reader x lucifer #lucifer fluff #lucifer morningstar fluff #hazbin fluff #fanfic fluff #lucifer x reader fluff #reader x lucifer fluff #lucifer morningstar hazbin

97 notes · View notes

goodolddumbbanana · 1 day

Text

Nexus to Moon: dramatic, mysterious, evil.

He is the monster. He forced me kneel, he hurts me, he makes me relived of all my mistakes. I couldn't fight him and the worst of it..... I. Scared. Of. Him.

Nexus to Sun: Bitch wants me to work for him and gets mad when I say no. Also... Cringe.

I am sorry but, has anyone felt a really drastically shift tones between Moon and Sun when they interact with Nexus?

Like Nexus really wants to hurt Moon, badly. He does not hesitate to cram his hands inside Moon's head, and mocks Moon for everything he did. It was intense, and we can feel it is Nexus the one who is in the control. And that Moon will not do or can try anything.

Also Moon gets kneel down and tortured pretty quick after that. Also he seems very scared of Nexus after each time he interacted with Nexus.

But Sun... I don't know man... I think I had made Nexus cooler in my head.

He is just so cringe. (THE GOD thingy makes me die a little bit whenever I hear him screaming that name)

I couldn't see the monster who hurt Moon with the way he was chasing Sun around and Sun just kept running like it is no ends tomorrow.

(Lmao dude just straight up pulling Naruto run on Nexus, really reminds me back then, of the times when Sun doing something stupid and Nexus just angrily yelling ran after him.)

And even when he had Sun at the corner, he couldn't say anything 'emotional damage' to Sun.

"What ... Are you insane?!"

"Yeah. I thought it was pretty obvious."

And baby girl is so obsessed with the fact he is no longer Moon, he thinks it is him who is still the one Sun calls for help. Which is sad and funny both at the same time.

Like we can feel a tiny small hesitant in Nexus's voice when Sun keeps saying 'Moon', like he thought Sun wants him to stop.

And how the issue gets dragged on the surface. Sun always feels like he couldn't help Nexus and Nexus also feels like he couldn't let Sun help him. (Because the same old story, Sun got hurt and kidnapped whenever he came with Nexus.)

"So now I have value for you?"

"Yeah, for once in your miserable life, you have value."

It is sad when they come back at each other like this. Especially when Nexus always says that he needs Sun back in the day.

"You had friends, you had a family. They love you."

Sun loves him. He still loves Nexus. He didn't want Nexus dead is one thing, but he seems so worried about Nexus (accidentally calling him Moon when seeing him got shot) and tries to make Monty stop shooting. Even after Nexus runway, Sun - the one who gets so infected by Negative Star power, still wants to know if Nexus is okay.

And when he was back at home, he wasn't even scared of Nexus, not like how he used to be terrified of Eclipse or Killcode or even when he interacts with Dark Sun. He seems just pissed and done at himself, and not even with Nexus.

"I didn't have friends. I was a replacement."

Nexus didn't consider Monty his friend. I mean it is totally understandable, especially when they hijacked his head before. But replacement... Really? Sure maybe at first with Sun, but what about Earth? She didn't know jack about you?

"Maybe at first, but I liked you."

Haha... Remember when Nexus said he was very appreciative of how Sun loved him more than Moon? Haha... Good times ...

"oh my..., cuz I was nicer to you."

"because you are nice."

"because I didn't beat you.... Guess what Sunny, you are nothing but a tool for me..."

He throws away any good things he did for Sun. He burned all their memories, and saw himself as a monster. He tried to make himself a monster towards Sun, and when seeing it didn't work, because Sun doesn't care about how horrible he is now, he straight down Sun with the 'I don't care about you' attitude.

"You know what... You are not worse than Moon. Hell you are not even better..."

'You are just exactly like Moon. ' I think it is what Sun wants to say. They are both so stuck in their own minds, never wanting to hear what other people say, what people are trying to prove they are so much better than this.

"I am me! NONE OF YOU COULD REALISE, I AM MY OWN PERSON!!!"

"I tried."

"No you didn't. You USED me. And now I am going to use you."

"I am sorry."

His voice seems so small. He sounds so heartbroken when he says sorry to Nexus, like we can feel the thought process behind Sun. He truly thinks everything happened was his fault, it is Sun's fault leading Nexus to become like this.

"Your apologies don't mean anything to me."

And Nexus sounds so wanting to move one, to get done with his job, to stop talking about the past. It doesn't matter if Sun says sorry or not, because he doesn't care. He doesn't want to care.

And the term he used... Dragging Sun into his lab and plug he into the machine, to let him never do any of his own will ever again....

What does Nexus think Sun will do with his own will? Like what exactly can Sun do? Yapping at his ears until it bleeds? Sun doesn't have any manipulated skills at all, he is so straightforward and honest to actually harm Nexus from behind, like, Nexus just needs to highjack Sun's head like Moon.

From my perspective, I think there are a lot of methods to let Sun do as Nexus plead, but Nexus only wants to stop thinking about Sun. Like if he fully controlled over Sun, he will not have to think about how Sun is disappointed in him anymore, He will not have to think of Sun as a human being, as his ex brother, as someone still cares about him.

And when Sun says he will not do as Nexus says? Nexus sounds didn't surprise at all. They understand each other too well to know even Sun sometimes a coward, he will not give up like that for Nexus.

Also... Why did he not just threaten Moon? Or Dazzle? Or Jack? Just like how he mocks Solar?

Did he not want his older brother to think of him lower?

"...I have you kneel at me, right ? So look at your superior being."

The way Nexus said that, it makes me feel sad. Like, Nexus so wants to cut off Sun, to make Sun think of him as a monster, to hurt Sun not even in the way it matters.

He still couldn't hit Sun at his lowest, I mean, back then, Old Moon even worse with Sun both emotionally and physically back in the days.

Even after so much nonsense craps, Sun still unharmed. He tortured Moon, he mocked Solar, but Sun.... There is no win in this fight.

Their fighting still looks so much more than their so used banter before... I wish Nexus and Sun will be still brothers ;.;

Sidenote: I love that Ruin tries to convince Nexus to think more with his head but just ends up giving up like : oh right, screw you then, asshole.

Very baby girl behaviour of him.

#sun and moon show #tsams #the sun and moon show #sams #tsams sun #sams sun #tsams nexus

61 notes · View notes

googleitlol · 3 days

Note

Two questions! Well, one’s more like a prompt/scenario, but I’m still saying it!

Do you have any plans on getting back to your “The Memory of You” fanfic in the future? Because I’m a certified Macaque wimp (right there with Wukong) and I’m dying to know everything that happened between him and Lian!😭

And second:

I just got myself Black Myth Wukong brainrot and I randomly thought of a situation where Dove would wake up from a nightmare about Wukong’s death, and she instinctively places a hand over the Destined One’s heart to hear it beating because of his resemblance and everything. And the Destined One just helps hold her hand to his chest and resting his own hand over hers until she calms down🥲💘💞

1) Omg tbh I didn't realise ppl were still reading that one! I'm focusing on PoM rn so I don't think I'll be getting to it anytime soon unfortunately. I do wanna continue it tho, and rewrite some stuff too! My google doc is so big for TMoY that if you wanted, I could totally answer some asks about it. Since I'm focusing on Dove and Wukong rn, I wouldn't mind sharing some secrets about Lian and Macaque's past (I will yap so much abt them, I love Lian she's my sweetheart).

I also took a break from writing that fic because, uhhhhh… I had only seen part of season 4 when I started writing the backstory for Lian, did some research into chinese mythology and legends I could pull from… then after posting a bunch of chapters, I watched the rest and realised I accidentally made her backstory/creation extremely similar to someone else (if you're caught up on the show, you'll know who I'm talking about). They both involve, uh… similar people?? So I got spooked and decided to wait a bit to see if that character's backstory would be like what I'd written for Lian and… it's starts out very similar 💀

But honestly, I think I'm gonna keep it the same cuz I love Lian, and I love the story I've made for her and Macaque. So if you've got any questions abt them, I'd be happy to answer until I shift my focus back onto TMoY.

2) Oh, and… my god. I love this idea of yours. That dream. Hoo boy, that dream. I love it when people understand the sort of angst I wanna put Dove under. Running to her love, knowing what's about to happen but too far to stop it. Maybe if he saw her, if he knew she was coming, maybe he'd still be there. But no matter how much her throat scratches as she screams, no sound is made. No matter how fast she runs, how far she pushes herself, nothing changes.

The Destined One frowns, he's seen her like this on so many nights. There's something that's plaguing her… he just doesn't know what. She shuts him down at any and all moments he has to inquire about her night-terrors. Still, he's found a subtle way to help in the best way he can. After one night where she reached out for him and he let her hand press against his chest, he noticed how she calmed a bit.

That becomes their nightly ritual. Whenever he notices how she starts to mumble in her sleep, shout and cry, he'll cuddle up next to her and hold her in his arms. He'll keep her head pressed against his chest so she can hear his heart– that always calms her down. As long as she has something, her hand or even an ear pressed to his heart, she'll calm down. Maybe the first few nights he started doing this, she'd cuddle up to him a bit. He'd be awkward about it at first, but eventually grow used to it. After a while, he'd find that he actually really enjoys spending those nights with Dove in his arms.

#black myth wukong #sun wukong x reader #macaque x oc #lego monkie kid #the memory of you #peace of mind #pom #little dove asks

38 notes · View notes

lucky-clover-gazette · 2 days

Note

(for the request thing) sometimes i wonder how Volo would feel/react if someone (like arceus’s chosen 👀) took a blow for him from a wild Pokemon or another person. From his perspective, Volo doesn’t have anyone in Hisui that cares about his wellbeing, and the game alludes to him having a troubled and lonely past, and with him having planned on erasing all life in Hisui in pursuit of his desires, would he feel guilt if someone showed him a level of care that would make them sacrifice their safety for his, when he was ready to potentially sacrifice them for his own sake when it came to Arceus?

(also wanna say ive loved your fics on Ao3, so talented <3)

(also on ao3)

You really prefer not to die in front of other people.

The edges of your vision darken as you shove Volo aside, taking the full force of the Alpha Vespiqueen’s attack. You manage the subdue your attacker with a well-aimed sticky glob and ultra ball, but not before suffering an undoubtedly fatal blow.

The consummate merchant comes to you at once, leaning over your fallen body with an oddly indecipherable expression. Usually Volo is abundantly obvious with his feelings, whether he’s passionately rambling about ruins or earnestly praising your efforts as the hero of Hisui. But the man you see now, as your vision begins to blur, simply stares.

“Caught it,” you brag.

His grey eyes widen slightly. You haven’t shared this with him, but you’ve always found them rather beautiful.

“You shouldn’t have…”

“Saved you?” you ask with a dry chuckle. “That’s why I’m here, remember?”

Volo furrows his brow. Reaches out to touch you, then pulls his hand back.

“I sincerely apologize,” he tells you, bowing his head. “If you are to perish in these circumstances, you deserve to know—”

You die and can’t hear the rest.

And then you open your eyes.

You stand on your feet now, in the last place you felt safe before the Pokémon’s attack. Volo still kneels in the distance, seemingly unaware that your body has been replaced by a fallen satchel containing your entire supply of ultraballs, a fire stone, and exactly four medicinal leeks.

You frown. This is going to be awkward.

“Hey, buddy,” you say, coming up carefully behind him. Volo’s back goes rigid at the sound of your voice, his head turning around at once.

“You—you!!”

You rub the back of your neck, sheepish. “Surprise?”

“You died!” Volo exclaims with an accusatory finger-point. “I just saw—” His head swivels to the satchel on the ground, then he turns back to you. “How?”

You sigh and sit down beside him. “Chosen One perk. I die, Arceus says my work isn’t finished yet, I get another shot. It happened for the first time when I fought Lord Kleavor. I had no idea what I was doing, and it took like a dozen tries before I got good.”

Volo looks horrified. “You’ve died a dozen times?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why—”

“My death count’s definitely in the triple digits now. Lord Arcanine was ten times worse than Kleavor, because of all the fire and bullshit arena. At least Lady Liligant was a total pushover.”

“Did it not hurt?” demands Volo, his face growing noticeably pale.

“Oh, it totally hurt,” you admit. “But somebody’s got to deal with it, and I’m the only one around here who’s been made invulnerable by God.”

Volo looks as if he’s been slapped. You suppose that’s fair, considering the shock of witnessing your death and resurrection. But to you, this really is just another Tuesday.

“I know it’s disturbing,” you sigh, putting a hand on his shoulder. His muscles are tense. “That’s why I try my best to make sure people aren’t around to see it. Just easier that way, you know?”

Volo wears another unreadable expression.

“Sucks to lose a satchel, though,” you say, lightly. “Thanks for keeping an eye on it. Without witnesses, I usually lose some of my stuff. Never the plates, though, don’t worry.”

He still looks lost in his thoughts, which is no good. You don’t know how to explain that this happens all the time, for much less important reasons than protecting your favorite person on Hisui. The pain is a small price to pay for his safety, and you’d readily pay it again.

“I thought you died,” Volo eventually says. “Saving my life.”

You elbow him playfully. “I guess Arceus is looking out for you too.”

His expression darkens. “No.”

“No?”

He looks you dead in the eyes, with a different sort of intensity than you’ve come to expect from the eccentric wanderer. “Under an unjust god, endless life is endless pain. Do you truly wish that for yourself? For the world?”

Distantly, you wonder what exactly Volo had thought you deserved to know before your presumed demise. You have a feeling he’s not going to tell you now.

You offer him a hand. “Well, unless you’ve got a better god laying around somewhere, I think we’re stuck with what we’ve got.” And I like what I’ve got, you absolutely do not tell the merchant. I like that I’m here with you.

Volo still seems distracted, but he takes your hand anyway. “Right,” he mutters, and then smiles. “We live to fight another day.”

You rub your thumb against the side of his hand. “And maybe someday, we won’t have to fight. We’ll have everything we need.”

You can picture it, with him. You wonder, maybe foolishly, if he might feel the same way.

Supporting you is actually an investment in my own fortunes, Volo had told you once.

You would protect him regardless of your personal relationship, of course. Just as you protect the rest of this world. You want things to be better, for everyone, and intend to use your god-given powers to ensure that your dream becomes reality.

Volo nods, his sharp gaze fixed on your joined hands. A chill runs down your spine as he squeezes.

“Yes,” he agrees. “Someday.”

You smile softly.

“I think I can live with that.”

#volo #volo pokemon #pokemon legends arceus #pla #this could be read as romantic or platonic!#game mechanics in fiction my beloved <3 #thanks for the request! still taking more #volo x reader #my writing

38 notes · View notes

thewisaaaaad · 2 days

Text

AWWW FUCK

In my sleep deprived state, I have created YET ANOTHER AU by smashing together several ideas in my head, along with being inspired by @kamodofilez bells of the dammed au. Sorry for pinging you, but CREDIT IS DUE.

When am I going to run out of these oh lamb

Anyways here's the au. I call it the Regretful Hunter AU, no idea if i am going to continue with this.

In this AU, neither the lamb nor Narinder really wanted to fight.

As soon as Narinder heard the new prophecy through Ratau, he knew exactly what would happen.

Five becomes nothing? He wasn't stupid. He was going to fall too, just like all his siblings.

Good. It was what he deserved. It was what he wanted.

Narinder did the fight because he was actually tired of being the god of death, saw that the lamb was way better at being god than any of his siblings were, and wanted to pass the mantle. Of course, due to pride and family trauma, they couldn't just hand it over, so he tried to goad the lamb into killing him. He... doesn't really consider how Aym and Baal would feel about it. He forgot they were people, honestly, until it was too late to care.

The lamb, meanwhile, was totally chill with dying. They felt that they were OK at playing leader, but was ready to hand over the reins to the god that gave them the opportunity to take revenge for their people.

They were fully ready to let go, and see their family again in the afterlife. After all that had happened, they were just. So. Tired.

However, fate has ways of getting what it wants- including puppeting its victims. The lamb was conscious the whole time as they were forced to fight the person that gave them everything they had ever wanted and slay his guardians. They were just glad that they didn't have to kill him.

Narinder was less than pleased with the mercy. When the guilt of what he had done set in, he ran away from the cult before the lamb could explain what happened.

He planned on going out, finding a nice cliff with some sharp rocks at the bottom, and ending it once and for all.

Turns out, ending your life by your own hands is a lot harder than he thought. It can be pretty scary, standing at the edge.

He blames his mortality, of course.

Lamb, meanwhile, goes into a depression induced stupor, the young god just going through the motions of running a cult. ???'s arrival makes it a little easier, by giving them a goal to work towards, but they never stop hoping to find Narinder again. They know hes not dead yet.

They would feel it.

Narinder continues to survive in the forest, hunting critters using plumbata, or throwing arrows, made from stolen arrows. He goes around, surviving while cursing his cowardice, until one day he wanders through Silkcradle, looking for spiders to hunt.

Instead, he finds a panda and a skunk in mortal danger. Before, he would have let them die, for obviously if they had wanted to live then they would not have come here, doubly so for the panda who could have just never come to the lands of the old faith at all.

But now? Now he understands the fear of the end. How it can creep up on you without knowledge of its presence, how a foolish decision can seem like the best one to make in the moment.

So he saves them. They, of course, ask for his name.

He does not give it. Instead, he gives them the location of paradise, where they will be safe. When asked why he does not go there himself, he answers that "I had lost my right to that place long ago."

When Jalala and Rinor arrive at the lambs cult, they tell the lamb of the kind stranger who saved them, the cat with three red eyes.

The lamb gets excited. He's still out there. And he wishes he could be here.

They just have to talk to him.

#i really don't know what i'm doing #cotl #cult of the lamb #cotl au #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #cotl jalala #cotl rinor

40 notes · View notes

sparklingblu · 8 hours

Text

Pulse

Sohyun X Xinyu

P.S: I'm trying a new style of writing here.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

There's something calm and comforting about the crowded coffeeshop. The hissing of the espresso machine, the bustle of human conversation, the clinking of ceramic cups - they all seem to blend together to create a new yet totally familiar world. That's the reason I've come here. To be swallowed by this background noise and extract myself from reality if just for a moment.

I sit in my usual corner, my elbow against a cup of cappucino which has long since gone cold and a textbook opened but largely ignored. I have read the same line for the last thirty minutes but none of it seems to stick. I'm too distracted by the noise and my own thoughts, adrift in this place.

University is supposed to be a place where you "find yourself" but I seem to have lost my sense of direction as soon as I step my foot here. Everyone around me seems so sure of what they are doing, raised chests and energetic steps. Meanwhile, I'm just trying to keep my head down, pretending like I belong while I don't even know who I am yet.

Outside, the leaves are just starting to turn yellow - the afternoon light casting a lazy red glow on them. It's the start of a new season though I barely feel like anything have changed in this new life I'm settling into. It's just a struggle to fit in from day to day.

I bring my lips to the rim of my cofee cup, grmiacing as the bitter taste washes over me. It doesn't come as a surprise. The only reason people come here is for the atmosphere - to mingle and jingle . The cofee is just a necessity to stay.

I glance at the moving world from my seat near the window. A steady flow of students rush past the platfrom on the otherside, their laughter echoing through the glass. It's as if they know a secret I have yet to understand.

I pull the sleeve of my sweater over my knuckles, retreating into the soft fabric. Nearby, my phone buzzes with a notification from a group chat that I never have been a part of. I don't bother to check and it becomes one of the many sounds that fills the place.

I used to think university would be different - a total contrast to my mundane high school life. That I'd step into the place and everything will click into place. Like the rest of my life have been a prelude to this. But here I am. Already chickening out in the first week.

I chug down the remainder of my cold coffee, shove my books into the bag and was about to leave when a burst of cool air sweeps through the place, followed by the jingle of the bell above the door. And I happen to be one of those people who instictively gawk at the newcomer.

There she is, waltzing into the room like she owns it. The energy of the outside world seems to radiate from her body. There's nothing loud or brash about her but she draws attention anyway - an easy confidence that ripples through the place. She brushes a stray strand of hair our of her face, her eyes crinkling with amusement.

She stands out naturally,moving as if she's utterly home in her skin, in this place. It's the kind of self-insurance that seems totally foregin to me. I can't even imagine what it's like to be in her shoes. Not like I will have a chance. She's everything I'm not.

Her hair is slightly tousel, falling in loose waves that looks almost intentional. She's wearing a plain white shirt, its crispiness a total contrast to her slouch jeans.

She orders a cofee - espresso, no sugar- and while she waits, she cracks a joke at the waiteress, painting her cheeks red. All this time, my eyes linger on her with a strange sort of fascination, watching like she's the only form of enteratinment I have had in a long time. And it's true in a way.

She takes the plastic cup and the change from the waiteress with a smile. She turns and that's when the trouble starts. I have expected her to leave as swiftly as she has come. Someone like her probably have more important businesses than slothing around.

Her eyes dart around the café and it takes me a moment to realize she's looking for a seat. So she's staying. But luck doesn't seem to be on her side today beacaue every single seat has been occupied. Well, except..

"Hey" she says, and it's casual, like we have been friends forever. "Mind if I sit there?"

She's gesturing at the seat across from mine, which I have strategically left empty to create a distance between me and everything else. I hesistate a tad bit too long before I response.

"Sure" I mumble, nodding towards the chair.

She sits, sliding the cup of coffee on the table with a soft thud. I have expected her to pull out a phone or do anything a stranger sharing a table with another stranger would do. But instead, she leans back and scans the room before her eyes come to rest on me.

"I have seen you before" she speaks, offering a slight smile as if she can read my thoughts.

I blink, caught off-guard. No 'hello' s. No 'hi' s. Straight to the point.

"Have you?" I say, sounding awfully stiff.

"Yeah. You have been in the same corner for the last week. You come here a lot?" She sips her coffee, eyes still on me.

I shrug. "Not always. But yeah. It's quiet"

She raised an eyebrow, glancing around the packed café. "Quiet?" she repeats, half laughing. "Compared to the dining hall, perhaps"

Just then, I realize how rudiculous I must sound. "Well, not today" I admit, lowering my gaze back to the books. "But usually"

She laughs again, but not mockingly so. "I get where you are coming from. Sometimes, it's good to be alone even though you are not truly alone" She couldn't have worded it better.

"Exactly" I say, nodding slowly.

A brief silent passes between us. She sips from her cup again. If the cappucino here is strong, I can't imagine what espresso would taste like. But she shows no sign of distaste.

"So, what do you study?" she asks, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup.

"Literature" I answer, shifting in my seat. For some reason, talking about my major always make me feel like I'm giving something away. Like I'm exposing myself.

"Ahhh Literature" She repeats the word, as if she's trying to decipher its meaning. "That must be....intense. Lots of complicated story about lots of different stuffs"

I nod, still unsure where she's headed. "I guess so. It's more about trying to understand them through their words. Deep fry your brain sometimes"

She huffs. "I can imagine. That's why I try to understand them through their heads, it's less exhausting that way. I'm in psych"

That makes sense. She has this way of speaking, as if she knows what the other party will say before they even open their mouths. But at the same time, respecting their boundaries.

I'm still trying to think of a valid response when she lifts her cup and stare at the remaining coffee like she's studying it. Then her gaze lifts back to me, eyes bright.

"You know, espresso reminds me of people"

I blink, surprised at the strange comparison. "Espresso? Why?"

She beams, leaning in. "Espresso's small right? Concentrated. If you take a sip, there's this rush - sharp and intense. It hits you so intensely that if you are not prepared, it can be overwhelming"

She takes a sip, as if giving me time to register her words. "But if you take it in bit by bit, the taste changes. The bitterness mellows out and you can feel each layer of richness underneath"

I stare at her, my tired brain struggling to understand what she's implying. Why espresso, out of all things?

She leans back and continues. "People are like that. Emotions, life, they come at you in the most unexpected times - swift, chaotic. Sometimes it can be too much to handle. But if you give it some times, let it breathe, you start to see the little parts that makes it up. That's when you start to discover yourself"

I can't help but smile. "You have thought a lot about this, haven't you?"

She shrugs. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just obsessed with espresso"

"Not the one here, I hope"

She smiles, instantly getting what I'm implying. It seems she's a regular customer too. "You gotta work with what you have. But you get the point"

"So....people are like espresso? Is that why you study them?" I question as she finishes up the last few drops of her coffee. This girl really likes espresso.

"Exactly" she snaps. I'm not sure if she's joking here. "It has always been my dream to do a thesis on espresso and emotions"

"Are you....?" I drift off and she bursts into laughter.

I feel the slightest hint of joy, like by asking that stupid question, I have contributed to her amusement in some way.

"Serious? No way. I'm not risking my degree for my unhealthy addiction. The last person I explained this to leave the table as soon as I'm done"

"Well, I'm still here"

Does it sound too cheesy?

"I can see that" She glances at the clock on the wall, frowning slightly. "I should get going. I have a class to prepared for"

I nod, feeling that familiar twist that comes with endings. "Right. Of course"

She stands, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. "It was nice talking to you" she says, her voice warm. "You can call me Sohyun"

"Xinyu" I reply. It sounds so much easier to say my name now.

"Xinyu" She lets the word roll off her tongue. "I like it"

"Thanks" She's already walking to the door when I response.

With one last glance, she re-enters the reality outside of this comforting bubble. I feel a strange sense of anticipation, like the conversation I just had have dropped some hint to solve this puzzle called life.

Sohyun and Espresso and People.

How peculiar.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The walk back across the campus was pleasant. The scene that welcomes me when I enter my room is not.

As I enter, I'm greeted by the familiar chaos of Yooyeon's world - clothes draped over the chair, a half eaten bag of snacks spilling out on the desk and music playing softly in the background. The mess have become such an essential part of the space that without it, you doubt you will recognize the room.

Yooyeon looks up from her bed, where she's lounging with her phone. She's dressed causual with a twist as usual - an oversized grey t-shrit with the words "You Shall Not Pass" emblazoned across the front and swetpants of the same color. As soon as she notices me, an infectious grin spreads across her face

"Xinyu! You are back!" She exclaims, eyes bright. "Did you finally make a friend or are you still on a first name basis with the library?"

"Ha ha. Very funny" I retort sarcastically as I shove my bag on the bed. "But yeah. I guess so"

She immediately sits up, her attention solely on me. "Wait, what? For real?"

I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. That's the thing about Yooyeon. It's like she has her own respirator of dopamine. Always on her feet. Not a hint of worry in those blue eyes.

"Her name's Sohyun. We met at the café" I answer, keeping my tone casual. One wrong octave and Yooyeon would immediately detect it.

"Ooooh, a café conversation, huh? Sounds like the opening to a great novel" She laughs, flopping back down to her bed. "What did you two talk about?"

I shrug, though I have anticipated the question. "Just espresso and....people"

Yooyeon grins even wider. "Don't tell me you spill your heart out. Cuz that would be really really-"

"It's nothing like that" I quickly interrupt. "It was just small talk. She's really easy to talk to"

"Easy is good. You need easy" Yooyeon bounces off her bed and start rummaging through her cupboard box of numerous books and posters. It has been a week and she still hasn't bothered to arrange her stuffs.

Not a moment sooner, she pulls out two bright blue mugs. "We should celebrate your burgeoning social life. I have got hot chocolate mix somewhere"

I roll my eyes. "You are impossible"

"Impossibly fun" Yooyeon winks as she pours the hot chocolate mix into the mugs and adds some hot water, the steam curling up. "You are on your way to becoming a social butterfly. Next thing you know, you will be hosting literary salons"

"Sure. After I finish this semester's readings" I reply lightly though the idea terrifies me.

Yooyeon hands me the steaming mug with a triumphant grin. "Here's to new friends and the magic of coffee! If you ever need a social coach to take you on this emotional espresso journey, I'm always available"

I take the mug from her, the warmth of it seeping into my palms. "No thanks"

"Aww come on. I can be the Ron to your Harry. Or the Peeta to your Katniss. Wait, nevermind. That's not a good idea" Yooyeon says, never failing to showcase her obsession with fiction. If Sohyun wants to do a thesis on espresso, Yooyeon would probably make one on Hunger Games. But her dream is closer to being a reality, given how she's in media studies.

"Isn't that the guy....who got like brainwashed or something?" I try to recall the memoies of the movie from time immemorial.

"Yeah. Poor Peeta..." Yooyeon says with a dreamy tone before she brings the mug to her lips.

"Fuck! It's hot" She yelps, immediately recoiling and almost spilling the hot drink.

"Who? Peeta?" I ask.

"No. The hot chocolate. Wait, no. I mean yes. Peeta, not this god awful drink" Yooyeon says while she furiously fans her mouth.

I can't help the chuckle that escape my lips. "I have always liked that Gale guy better"

Yooyeon's eyesbrow knit at my remark. And I already know a debate is headed my way.

"For starters,..."

And so it begins. I participate anyway although I know Yooyeon would win in the end as she always does. I'm not geeky enough for this.

But it doesn't matter. Because she's the only friend I have for now. Debating on fictional man not to be the odd one out doesn't seem so bad of a trade.

Would Sohyun like Gale better than Peeta?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

I'm up early the next morning. The kind of early that makes the world feels like it's still deciding whether or not it should go back to sleep. I look at the bedside clock - 5:55 am. Ha. I beat the alarm today.

Soft gray light shines through a hatch between the curtains, the world outside still enshrouded in the morning mist. All is quiet except for the occasional footsteps and soft snores of Yooyeon , whose face is half buried in the pillow. I smile, knowing she won't be up for at least an hour. The girl's have been up all night finishing an assignment.

I shiver slightly as the cool air grazes my skin when I pull the covers off. The mornings are getting colder, the first hints of autumn sneaking in. And it means I will have a harder time exiting the warm embrace of my sheets.

The chill in the air clings to me as I head towards the common bathroom. The hallways are empty at this time of the day. Not much early risers here. This building, Bradford Hall, is one of the older dorms on the campus. The floors creak with each step I take and the white paint on the wall have faded with age. For no reason, the place indulges a sense of legacy in me. Like I'm a part of something greater. Maybe it's the smell of chamomile that always hangs in the air.

The walk to the bathroom doesn't take long since my room's on the first floor. There's no burden of stairways. It takes five minutes tops for me to clean up - brush my teeth, wash my face and a couple arrangement of my messy hair that will stay the same way after. I still don't understand how some people manage to spend hours in the bathroom. Making yourself presentable shouldn't be that hard.

When I come back to the room, Yooyeon has tossed over, almost draping off the bed and murmuring something that sounds like a spell. She might be visiting middle-earth, Hogwarts and god knows where.

I cross over to my side of the room, the territory determined by an imaginary line Yooyeon have drawn on the first day. The room is barely big enough for two twin beds, a couple desks and a shared closet. My space is plain, simple. Almost empty except for the small lamp and the stack of books. It works fine by me.

Yooyeon's, however, is a total contrast. Her walls are covered with posters of whatever fictional book or movie you cam name. Not to mention the figurines that line her desk. "They give me motivation" Yooyeon has said. In my opinion, I wouldn't want an inch tall Darth Vader monitoring me all night. I bet Yooyeon would consider that 'hot' too.

I rummage through my closet without any initial dress code in mind. There isn't a need to worry. People wouldn't be up yet. There's no one to impress. I decide to go simple pulling on a bright blue sweater over my shirt and pulling on a pair of jeans. I slip on my worn-out sneakers, their familiar creaks greeting me. After a glance in the mirror, I decide to let my loose locks fall freely. I grab my bag and leave, careful not to wake Yooyeon, who's on the brink of falling off the bed.

The campus seems almost unrecognizable at this time of the day - the morning light bathing it in a warm glow that makes everything looks like it belongs to a painting. The air is still, undisturbed by the usual hustle of students. I take a deep breath as I make my way down the brick path.

The clues of autumn are scattered here and there - the air crisp and the leaves tinged with green and yellow like they haven't decided their favorite color yet. To my left, the towering main library roses like a cathedral, fog clinging to its ebony walls. The arched windows reflecting the sun rays.

Further down, the old lecture halls rise up on either sides of the path. They look like relics from the ancient past, a time unbeknownst. The ivy covered walls adding into its timelessness.

They weren't joking about this place being 'old'.

Ahead, the dining hall comes into view, no less younger than its confidants. With the dark wood beams and the high ceiling, it looks almost like a castle. The stone steps leading to the entrance are worn smooth by countless steps and the wooden doors, though thoroughly polished, creaks slightly as I push them open.

Inside, the place is most empty, save for a couple students scattered around. The smell of coffee and pastries fill the air, comforting in a way that makes me want to stay for hours. I grab a tray, throws on a couple of sandwiches and a glass of juice. My morning appetite have never been impressive.

I takes my usual place near one of the stained glass windows, spots of light showering on the table. I love this place. It's quiet and peaceful. Maybe except when Yooyeon's accompanying me.

I'm haflway through a cheese sandwich when the door swing opens.

Sohyun.

She walks in with a group of friends, at least five of them, talking and laughing. Their energy seemingly announcing they belong here.

Sohyun's dressed in almost the same way at our first meeting - a loose white shirt and cargos. And she strides across the hall with the same confidence from that day.

I didn't mean to stare but my eyes follow her, weaving through tables with her friends trailed behind. Like maybe our encounter was an interlude to something more.

I know I should go back to my sandwhich but when the soul craves, the body has to suffice. She turns my way just for a split second and without thinking, I give her a small smile. It's nothing special, really - just a 'Hey. I remember you from yesterday' kind of smile.

But Sohyun's eyes sweep over me as if I'm not even there and soon, she's swept up with her friends again, laughing at something they said.

It stings. Though it has no reason to. It's like a tiny blow that leaves you off-balance but not strong enough to knock you off your feet. Before I even realize it, my lips have pursed into a tight line and I'm already staring down at the unfinished plate of sandwiches. Maybe, yesterday was just a fever dream.

I didn't expect much, really. A nod, a wave, a smile - a sign of acknowledgement. Anything. I tell myself not to care. It's rudiculous to yearn for approval from someone you shared a coffee table with. But I can't help the cold weight settling in my chest.

I glance up at her again. She's still at the counter, taking her sweet time choosing her breakfast. The way she holds herself is so natural, like she belongs anywhere she goes. I envy that about her. I have always been needed to prove to earn a place in society while she just waltz through everything without a care.

Why is it bothering me so much?

Maybe I should be grateful for her brief cameo in my life. Or maybe it would have been better if we never met. Then she will just be another student who comes to eat breakfast. Not Sohyun.

But now, it's infecting me.

I take a sip of my orange juice, focusing on the cold liquid that wash down my throat. It's nothing, I tell myself. It's jst a stupid plea for attention. It doesn't matter. I have always been good at finding meanings in small thing but sometimes, small things are just......small. There's no more meaning to them than what they are.

Maybe that's all this is.

I watch her from the corner of my eyes as she settles down at a table with her friends, her laughter ringing out across the hall again. And for a momet, I almost want to laugh. Not because anything is funny but beacause how easily she moves through the world, through life.

And how easily she has forgotten me.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Over the next week, autumn have crept in like a quiet exhale. The trees have turned amber and yellow, their leaves falling in slow spiral onto tbe brick paths. The air has become sharp enough to sting my skin when I go out. It's the season of change, like people say. But this year, there's something unsettling about the sudden shift. Like I'm not ready for new beginnings.

Most of my time is spent surrounded by books and notes. Despite the constant pressure, it's nice to finally have a rhythm to life again. The rhythm that my fear of rejection have indulged. I have recovered quick and Sohyun has faded into nothing but another human whose life happen to cross ways with mine.

It's nothing to dwell on.

I sit at my desk, my table lamp casting a faint glow on the pages of 'Jane Eyre'. The word file opened on my laptop is still in the same state as it has been in the last hour - celan and empty. The syllables for the essay due tonight doesn't seem to be manifesting anytime soon.

I tap my fingers idly on the edge of the desk, glancing at the clock. It's nearly midnight now. The campus has gone still save for the ocassional laughter and footsteps of latecomers from the corridor. Peaceful. Quiet. But still not helping me collect my scattered thoughts.

I'm about to give up for the night and go to bed when the door suddenly flies open with a buest of energy and Yooyeon, in all her chaotic glory, stumbles into the room. She's panting, yet she has this wide grin plastered on her face.

I look up from my desk, startled by the sudden enteance. "Hey"

"Hey" she says, plopping down on the bed. "Guess what?"

I raise an eyebrow, bracing myself for whatever dramatic new she has to deliver. "What?"

"Yeonjun wants me to meet him at one of those fancy clubs. And he asked me to bring a friend" She grins even wider. "Guess who that friend's gonna be"

I blink. "Not me"

Yooyeons gives me a look, the kind that says she's not giving up until I give in. "Yes, you. Come on, Xinyu. You have been locked up here for so long. You need to get out"

"I've been studying" It's not enitirely a lie but it's not the truth either.

But Yooyeon's having none of it. "Studying, hiding, same difference. You are coming with me. Plus, it will be fun. Who know? Maybe you will even find a cute boy" She winks, then whispers. "Or a girl"

I'm not quick enough to surpress the blush that creeps up my cheek. "Yooyeon!"

"What? Don't tell me you still can't forget Ms. Espresso"

"This has nothing to do with her" To my surprise, my voice comes out shrill. "I'm just-"

"Blah blah blah. More excuses" Yooyeon cuts me off. "Come on, Xinyu. You will be doing me a huge favour. Yeonjun thinks I have no friends"

"You do have friends"

"Yeah. But no one would be available this late. And I'd rather go with you. You are....less dramatic"

Despite myself, I can't help but chuckle. "You mean 'naive' "

She shrugs, throwing a pillow at me. "You know what I mean. I don't need to worry about you throwing up or passing out or sleeping with the wrong guy"

"You just wants a wingwoman who will behave"

"Exactly" Yooyeon snaps. "So, what do you say? We'll go meet Yeonjun, hangs out for a bit. Then, we can come back to your books if you want"

I glance at my laptop, ths text cursor blinking in and out of existence as if reminding me of the marks soon to be lost. It's tempting to stay here but Yooyeon's right. Perhaps, I can take a breather just this once.

I sigh, pushing my chair back. "Fine. But don't expect me to drag your drunk ass back here"

Yooyeon lets out a triumphant squeal, practically bouncing off the bed. "Yes! You won't regret it"

She's already heading to the door when I throw a sweater over my shoulder. Yooyeon's dressed in her usual fit - jeans and a Lord of the Rings shirt, the one that says "You shalll not pass".

"Seriously? You are wearing that shirt again?" I ask, eyeing her.

Yooyeon shrinks away in mock offense. "Excuse me? Have some respect for the classics. Everybody loves Gandalf"

I roll my eyes. "Whatever. Let's go"

As soon as we step out of the building, we are hit by the cool night air. The campus is fast asleep, the street lamps casting long shadows across the brick paths. It feels peaceful, almost serene.

Yooyeon immediately starts chattering about this new Draco-Harry fiction, her hands waving animatedly as she speaks. I listen, half-distracted, my thoughts finding their way back to a topic unexplored for some times - Sohyun.

Maybe that morning in the dinining hall doesn't mean anything. It's jut a moment, and moments pass.

Despite the countless convincements, a part of me still wonders. What if she had smiled back? What if things have happened differently?

"Earth to Xinyu. Helloooooo" Yooyeon's voice break through my thoughts and I realize she has been talking to me this whole time.

"Sorry" I mumble, recomposing myself. "What were you saying?"

"I said, what do you think of Yeonjun?"

"He seems...nice" I answer, though I barely remember the guy.

Yooyeon grins, clearly pleased. "I know, right? He's the sweetest. And he's really into Harry Potter too, so that's a bonus"

I hum in agreement. Yooyeon's world seems so simple - vibrant, full of energy. Meanwhile, mine feels like the polar opposite. I'm always overthinking, second-guessing.

"Hey" Yooyeon nudges me with her elbow. "You are being all broody again. Stop it. We are going to have fun"

"Yeah, okay" I say, offering her a small smile.

I breath in the autumn air, hoping that mayb, I can stop cllinging onto a loose thread.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The club is a short walk off campus, tucked into a narrow street line with food trucks and cafés that come alive at night. As me and Yooyeon approach, the distant music grows louder, the rhythmic bass reverberating beneath our feet.

A small line of people snaked out of the entrance, marked by a neon sign displaying its name "The Tavern". The building itself is unassuming, with dark brick walls and small windows dimly lit from the inside.

When we step in, the place opens into a large space with low lighting. The bar run along one side while the rest of the room is a dance floor, dotted with tables around the edge. The air is buzzing with music and energy - people pressed close together, shouting whatever on their mind over the DJ's beat. It's an enitrely different world from the quiet, orderly campus.

"There he is!" Yooyeon yells over the music, wavibg wildly at someone near the bar. I follow her gaze and find a guy leaning against the counter, already grinning like a madman. Yeonjun. I recognize him from the first (and the only) time Yooyeon introduced me. He seems to reflect Yooyeon's restless vigour - a match made in heaven (or Hogwarts, whatever).

"Yeonjun. You remember Xinyu, right?" she says, taking her place next to him. He offers me a smile, not too over the top, but friendly enough. "The one who's always drowning in books?"

I give him an awkward wave. "Hey"

"Nice to meet you again" He says, his voice smooth. "Yooyeon's always talking about you"

"Only good things, I hope"

He laughs. "All good. Don't worry"

Yooyeon reaches for Yeonjun's half-finished shot of whiskey on the counter but get stopped by a firm grip on her wrist.

"Eh eh eh. You are ordering your own drink, miss"

Yooyeon pouts at Yeonjun's remark. "You don't even want to share a drink with your girlfriend?"

"You see. The reason it's called a 'shot' is that it's meant to be savoured by a single individual" Yeonjun's voice has gone unsettlingly serious.

"And they say Xinyu's the smart one" Yooyeon says, punching his arm.

"And they say men are the agressors" Yeonjun retorts. "How do you even deal with this witch, Xinyu?"

Before I can think of anything to say, Yooyeon grabs his arm. "Before I cast a casual Crucio on your sorry ass, we should get to the dance floor"

Yeonjun didn't argue with that. The banter is just their way of communicating. "Xinyu, you should come too" he invites.

"Uh.....no. I'm good. You two go ahead"

"Are you sure?" Yooyeon asks, despite knowing nothing can budge me. "It wil be fun, I promise"

I shake my head, smiling. "I will pass. I think I will just....get a drink"

Yooyeon is silent for a moment, then she's off, dragging Yeonjun into the sea of bodies. I watch them disappear, Yooyeon's laughter echoing back, carefree and loud, like she's exactly where she belongs.

Me, though? Not so much. So, I head to the bar,sliding onto one of the stools and order a Coke. There's no need for anything stronger. I can barely tolerate anything that have the slightest bit of alcohol and that's speaking from experience. The bartender barely looks at me as he hands it over, already moving on to his next order.

I take a sip and glance around. The place is packed, bodies moving in rhythm, couples tangled up in each other and some loners who are just swaying, lost in the music. It's loud, chaotic and I feel totally out of place. It's not that I don't want to have fun - I just don't know how to in place like this. Maybe my definition of 'fun' is different from everyone here.

I lean back against the bar and take another sip. The girls here are all glitter and glamour - tight dresses, high heels and bold colors, shimmering under the disco light. Like the night is made for them.

And then there's me in my oversized sweater and faded jeans. My white sneakers seems an imposter to their sleek heels. I have been so eager to get out of my comfort zone for once that I forget to do the necessary preparations.

I search for Yooyeon's familiar face in the crowd, but she's lost in the restless horde, probably twirling around with Yeonjun. I'm happy for her but all I feel is...detached. It's pathetic. I know. I'm too old not to know my constant fear of being the outsider, of being denied.

I'm halfway through my coke when I feel someone slide into the seat next to me, the barstool creaking under the weight. I didn't look up, hoping that it's just another stranger who comes to mind their own business. But then, he clears his throat, loud enugh for me not to ignore.

"Hey" a voice rings out, smooth but with a cocky edge.

I glanced over and there he is - perfect hair, gleaming jacket and a gold chain around hid neck. I might not be the best at socializing but I recognize the type immediately - the kind that's used to getting everything he wants. I can see it from his look, like he spends too much time in front of the mirror. He gives me a lazy smile, the one that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Come here often?" He ask, leaning a bit too close. His cologne is strong and mixed with the sour stench of his breath, it's impossible not to flinch

"No" I say flatly, taking a sip of my coke.

"That's a shame. You should. A pretty girl like you shouldn't be sitting alone"

I bristle at that, the compliment feeling more like an insult. "I'm not really into clubs" I reply, my lazy tone desperately showing my lack of interest.

He either doesn't know or care. Instead, he leans closer, his elbow casually resting on the bar next to me. "You just haven't found the right sort of people. I could show you a good time, you know"

I swallow a sigh, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm fine, thanks"

But he only smiles wider, as if my rejection is part of a game he's used to playing. "You sure? Cuz I don't see anyone with you here. How about I buy you another drink? Something better than coke"

"No, really. I'm good" I say, more firmly this time, hoping he will get the message. But the bastard won't take his eyes off me.

"You are playing hard to get, huh?" He tilts his head. "You wouldn't believe how many girls like you I have seen. Acting all tough, only to end up in my bed at the end"

That did the job for me. I straighten up in my seat. "Can you just leave me alone?"

"Oh, come one. I'm just-"

"Fuck off, Taeil"

A voice cuts through the tension and I instinctively turn my head toward the source. Sohyun stands a few feet away, arms folded. Her shirt has been tucked into her dark jeans, casual but sharp. Her eyes narrow onto the guy who is now known as Taeil, as if she's used to seeing the scene plays out.

Taeil straighten up, his smile wavering. "Relax. We are just talking"

"No, you are not" Sohyun steps closer, gaze hard and unblinking. "Here's what's gonna happen. You are going to walk away and leave her alone.

Taeil's smirk returns but it's not so sure as before. "And what exactly are you going to do if I don't?"

Sohyun's lips curve into a smile, one colder than any I have seen from her. She pulls out her phone, holding it up for him to see. "Let's see. I don't think your parents will be so happy to see their son acting like a druggie. Plus, it wouldn't be good for either you or your parents if the video end up in the wrong hands"

All the color drain out if Taeil's face, leaving him gaping. "You are blaffing" He protests, though the panic is clear as day in his voice.

"You know I'm not" Sohyun smiles like a predator who has cornered its prey. "So, fuck off"

For a moment, there's silence, the music filling in the temporary gap. Taeil shifts on his feet, his confidence all gone and finally, he lets out a sharp breath. "Fine. Whatever" His eyes flash with fury. "But this isn't over yet"

Sohyun gives him a mock wave, wriggling her fingers as he strides out of the club.

I exhale, realizing I have been holding my breath. I look over at Sohyun, who's still standing there with her phne. A neutral look has returned to her face. Like the Sohyun just a moment ago was a totally different person.

"You ok?" She asks, sliding her phone back into her pocket.

"I - yeah. Thanks" I reply, still a little stunned.

She shrugs, giving me a small smile, genuine this time. "That guy's a creep"

I nod, processing everything that has happend in the last few minutes. Sohyun, the psychologist. Sohyun, the saviour. What isn't she?

She pulls up the stool next to mine, the one Taeil has occupied just a moment ago and settles in. I shift slightly, suddenly hyperaware of her presence, of how close she is. The bar light cast little shadows on her face, illluminating the little details on her face I haven't noticed before. The tiny mole on her nose catches the light first, then the one under her left eye. They are so small, barely there but they stand out now that I'm seeing her up close.

"First time here?" She asks. How she knows, I have no idea. Maybe it's my my clothes that give it away.

"Yeah" I admits, a little sheepishly. "It's not really my kind of place"

Sohyun raises an eyebrow, amused but not surprised. "Yeah, I figured. You don't exactly look like you are having the time of your life"

I let out a small laugh. "Is it that obvious?"

She smirks, her eyes flickering over to my outfit. "Just a little"

I glance down, fidgeting with the edge of my sweater, suddenly even more aware of my appearance. "It's not really.....I don't usually go to places like this"

"So, not a party person?" Sohyun's voice is more curious than judegemental.

"Not really" I admit. "I'm more of a...stay-in and read type"

Her smile grows and for a moment, the chaotic sounds of the club faded as if we are alone. "Well, you are here now. So might as well try to enjoy it"

She's so easygoing, so at ease with herself it makes me want to throw caution to the wind too. But then, I remembered that morning in the dining hall and my stomach twists. The memory is still nagging at the back of my mind. I bite my lower lip, debating whether or not I should bring up the subject.

Sohyun takes a sip from my nearly empty can of coke and before I can stop myself, the words spill out. "I saw you the other morning. At the dining hall"

Her eyebrows knit together in curiousity. "Oh?"

"I smiled at you" I say. "But you didn't see me"

Or act like you don't, I thought.

Her eyes widen for a moment before she speaks."Wait, really? Xinyu, I'm sorry. I didn't see you"

I blink. "You didn't?"

She shakes her head. "I swear. If I'd seen you, I would have smiled back. I promise. I guess I was just in my own head then. I'm sorry"

Her words are soft, delicate and sincere. It unravels the knot in my stomach I have pretended to be non-existent. Still, she could be lying but I decide to trust her,realizing how much I care about what she thinks of me.

I galnce away, feeling my cheeks heat up slightly. "It's okay" I mumble, sipping from the empty can of coke. "I just thought....maybe I'd misread things"

Sohyun gives me a small, warm smile. "You didn't misread anything. I'm sorry if you feel like that"

She's apologizing too much now it's starting to get uncomfortable. So I dismiss it with a nod.

Sohyun shifts in her seat, her eyes flickering down to my sweater, which have bunched up awkwardly from the way I have been sitting. Before I can fix it myself, she reaches over. Her finges gently tug at the hem of my sweater, smoothing it down without a second thought.

"There" she says, her hand lingering a moment longer more before she pulls it back.

I'm still processing the gesture when almost absentmindedly, she reaches out and brush a stray strand of my hair out of my eyes. Her fingertips skim the side of my face and for a moment, time slows down - just enough for me to notice the way her eyes soften.

"There you go" she says, leaning back. "Now you are perfectly suited for the night life"

We both smile at that and for a heartbeat, I swear I can feel something shift between us. Something I can't quite name. Something that might as well be a misinterpreted signal.

The air settles into a quiet lull, the ghost of her fingers still tingling on my skin. The warmth of the moment hangs awkwardly between us and for a moment, all I can do is sit there, actuely aware of the silent between us.

"So..." I clear my throat. "Do you come here alone too?"

The corner of her mouth quriks up like she finds my question amusing. "Alone?" she repeats. "No. Not really. I'm here with my friends most of the time"

I nod. "So, are they here tonight?"

She glances towards the dance floor. "Yeah. They are somewhere out there" she says with a small laugh. "I kinda slipped away for a bit. Needed a break"

A break. From what, though? The noise? The people? The club?

I hesistate for a second. "Not really your scene either?"

She gives me a sideway glance. "It's fun but...sometimes, I don't know. It can geta little old. Same people, same music"

"Yeah" I agree. "I get that"

She taps her fingers against the bar, thoughtful for a moment. "What about you? Do you come here yourself or did Yooyeon drag you here?"

My eyes widen. "You know Yooyeon?"

Sohyun chuckles softly. "We are friends on instagram. She followed me first, I think? She seems fun"

I can't help but laugh at that. "Yeah. She's definitely fun"

Sohyun tilts her head, as if searching for Yooyeon in the crowd. "She told me she's your roommate when I mentioned I see you in one of her stories. She's been hyping you up"

"She -what?" I stare at her, feeling the panic rising in my chest. "Hyping me up?"

Sohyun greans, leaning in just close enough for me to catch a faint scent of her perfume. "Yeah. She says you are a lot cooler than you let on"

I shake my head, laughing under my breath. "That's Yooyeon....being Yooyeon"

"Well, she's not wrong" Sohyun adds, her eyes catching mine for a split second before she goes back to staring at the dance floor.

The silence settles in again, like an early intermission. Sohyun's eyes flicker back to me and I try to ignore the way she's watching me like she's considering something. I sip at the can of Coke that has been emptied long since.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" She asks so casually, like it's something she asks anyone alone in a night like this.

"What?" I ask, unsure if I've heard it right over the loud music.

She lets out an exasperated sigh. "It's too loud. And hot. Let's do something fun"

I hesistate, unknowingly squeezing the coke can flat. "Like what?"

Sohyun gives me a small smile, laced with certainity and mischeif. "Trust me. You will like it"

There's something in her voice that disarms me. Perhaps it's because this night has already been so surreal, with Yooyeon dragging me here, the drinks, the noise and then Taeil's annoying persistence. And now, Sohyun, who had seemingly ignored me is suddenly offering to whisk me away. It feels like too much, and yet, somehow, not enough.

I find myself nodding faster than my brain can catch up. "Okay"

Sohyun stands, sliding a couple bills on the counter before I can protest. She doesn't say anything, just gestures towards the door, and I follow her out of the club.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The air outside is sharp and cold and for once I'm grateful for my out of place sweater. Sohyun, however, doesn't seem to be fazed. If not, she seems to be enjoying it.

The music fades into the distant as we walk in silence, winding through the quieter streets near the campus. I don't ask where we are going and she doesn't offer an explanation. Instead, we fall into step beside each other, our shoulders brushing ocassionally. My pulse is still racing, though I don't know if it's from the club or from the cold.

Sohyun's pace is unhurried, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her jeans and I keep my arms wrapped around myself, pulling my sweater tight. After a while, we reach one of the taller campus buildings, its ivy covered walls bathed in the moonlight. During the day, these buildings always looks heavy, weighted down by unknown legacies. But under the silvery gloom of night, it has all been replaced by a strange sort of calm.

"Come" Sohyun gestures towards the side door as she leads me in. The hallway is dim, lit only by the low, humming lights overhead. She doesn't say a word as she climbs up the stairs, up and up until we reach the top floor. I'm breathless by the time we come to a stop in front of an old, rusted door, with a faded sign that reads Roof Access: Authorized Personnel Only.

Sohyun gives me a quick wink as she pushed open the door with a soft creak. "Not like anyone ever come here" She mutters to herself as she steps out into the night.

I follow her onto the roof, and for a moment, I'm stunned. The sky stretches out above us, a blanket of stars scattered across the black canvas of night. The city lights flicker below and I can still hear the distant sound of traffic but for the most part, it's quiet. Like the rooftop itself is another world within this world. The wind tugs at my sweater and I pull it even tighter around me, bracing against the sudden rush of cold.

Sohyun is already sitting at the edge of the roof, her legs dangling over the side, her gaze fixed on the stars. She pats the spot next to her and I sit, careful to keep a distance between us.

I tilt my head up, admiring the stars, feeling the enormity of the night settling down on me. "You come here often?"

"Yeah" Sohyun says, her voice soft. "Whenever I need to think. Or when I just need a breather"

I nod, unsure what to say. This isn't what I expected when she said something fun. But in a way, it's better.

We sit in silent for a moment, the only sounds the wind and the distant hum of the city below. This calm, it's peaceful and stirring at the same time. As if there's a deeper meaning to it that I can't quite grasp.

"It's funny" she says. "Back in the country, I used to lie out in the fields and just....watch the stars. Sometimes, I would stare at them for hours. It never fails to soothe me"

I watch the way her eyes trace the sky as if she's searching for something. To be honest, I have expected someone like her to be from a big city. An image of her anywhere else is unimaginable.

"Must've been nice" I murmur. "Being able to see them so clearly"

She nods. "Yeah. It's not the same here. The city kinda takes over. Light pollution and all"

I can hear the nostalgia in her voice and for a moment, I imagine her as a little girl lying under that wide country sky, her face lit by starlight. There's something tender about it, something that makes me want to reach for a fragment of her from a different time.

After a pause, I point up at the sky. "Well, we've got stars here too. Not as bright, but they are still there"

Sohyun tilts her head, following where I'm pointing and I can't help but smile a little. "Okay, bear with my nerdiness for a second"

She chuckles. "Go for it"

I lift my hand, tracing an invisible line through the air. "That's Orion. See the three stars right there, in a row? That's his belt"

Sohyun squints, trying to follow. "Oh, I think I see it"

"Orion was a hunter" my voice dropping slightly as I tell the story. "A really good one too. Some says he fell in love with the goddess Artemis but her brother, Apollo, wasn't too happy about it so he tricked Artemis into killing Orion" I pause. "She realized her mistake too late and heartbroken, she placed him among the stars so she can always see him"

The story hangs in the air when I finish. I glance at Sohyun, her face bathed in a soft glow. She's quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful.

"That's kind of sad" she says quietly.

"Yeah" I whisper. "It is"

I shift slightly, turning to face her and she does the same. Our eyes meet and for a moment, the world stills. I notice the way her hair flatters with the breeze, the city lights reflected in her eyes and the faint smile tug at her lips.

"You are really something, you know that?" she says, her voice low. "Is this your revenge for my espresso lecture?"

I blink, then smiles, feeling the tension melt away. "Maybe" I say, my voice almost teasing. "But instead of coffee, I use tragic mythological hunters"

Sohyun tilts her head, her smile widening. "Touché. You really know how to open-up someone"

"It's a natural talent" I shrug, although my sarcastic tone gives away the bluff.

"So, this is how you get back at people?" She continues, her voice still teasing. "By making them feel guilty for their ignorance about constellations"

I laugh, rolling my eyes. "Please, you are not the first person to endure my mythology rants. Consider yourself lucky it wasn't longer"

"And I thought my espresso thesis was bad enough"

It's like we are back in the café except that now, I'm the one doing most of the talking. But we are still the same two people with their own crazy obsessions.

Then in the lightest of gestures, Sohyun reaches out. Her fingers find the sleeve of my sweater, gently tugging at the cuff, as though fixing it, like she did earlier. She looks at me, eyes warm and amused.

"Revenge or not" she says, letting her hand fall back to her side. "I think I like your stories"

I swallow, trying not to lose my footing in the closeness of the moment. "Well" I managed to say, my voice uneven. "Next time, I will make sure to pick a happier story"

Sohyun chuckles, leaning back, although her eyes never leave me. "I will hold you to that"

The air around us suddenly become charged with something unspoken. There's a quiet, almost reverent pause in the conversation as if neither of us wants to break whatever delicate thread is holding this moment together.

Sohyun shifts slightly, inching just the slightest to my side. The stars seem to burn brighter, and I find myself leaning into the silence, into the space between us that feels both heavy and light at the same time.

"Do you ever feel like....." Sohyun starts, her voice quiet, like she's speaking into the night as much as to me. "Like everything around you is waiting for something to happen?"

I blink, her words sinking into the stillness. "What do you mean?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her gaze flickers back to the stars. "Like....right now, for instance" Her eyes meet mine again, and there's something in her expression, like she's trying to find the right words. "It's like we are on the edge of something"

Her words send a shiver through me, not from the cold but the hidden meaning underneath. It's not an unfamiliar feeling, but it's one I've been pushing aside ever since we met. The strange pull towards her, a quiet fascination that has grown into something else entirely, something that's so wrong and so right at once.

I glance at her and find myself staring at the mole under her left eye, like I'm seeing her for the first time.

"I know what you mean" I finally say, my voice almost too quiet like I'm afraid to break this fragile peace between us. My hands tighten around the railing and I glance down for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. "It's like.....something have changed"

She moves an inch more closer, the space between us nearly non-existent now. I wonder if she can hear my heartbeat now. My breath catch in my throat as she leans in, enough to cover the remaining space distancing us.

"You are right" she says softly. "Something has changed"

It's so quiet, her voice almost swallowed by the night. MY gaze flickers to her lips for a second - a brief unintentional moment that I quickly pull back from. But I wasn't quick enough.

Sohyun notices. I can see it in her way her expression shifts. And she knows that I know that she knows. Her hand, resting casually on the railing, moves slightly, her fingers brushing against mine in the lightest of touches. It's barely a graze but it's enough to send electricity tingling through my nerves.

The moment stretches, suspended between us, as if we're waiting for something to happen or maybe just waiting for one of us to make a move. The tension is palpable now, not uncomfortable, but thick, charged with possibility.

I can't tell who moves first, or if we even move at all. It's like an invisible force has suddenly drawn us together. Her face is so close now, I can see the way my breath mingles with hers in the cool night air.

Then slowly - so slowly it feels like the world is holding its breath - Sohyun lifts her hand. She reaches out, her fingers brushing against my sweater, smoothing a wrinkle near my shoulder like she did the last two times. But this time, it's different. There's an unspoken intentionality to it that makes my breath quickens.

Her hand lingers, tracing the fabric for a moment longer than necessary. And then, without breaking eye contact, she lifts her other hand, gently tucking a strand of stray hair way from my face and tucking it behind my ear. The tender touch send a warmth through me.

Suddenly, everything feels sharper, more vivid - the sound of the wind, the soft glow of the city lights, the way her fingers linger near my cheek, as if she's waiting for my permission to go further.

"Sohyun..." I whisper, not even sure what I'm trying to say, but needing to say something, anything, to break the tension between us.

But she doesn't move. She just watches me, her eyes searching mine, her hand still resting gently on my cheek. "Is this okay?" she asks as if it's a secret we only know.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak without stuttering, unable to think of anything but the way her breath feels against my skin.

And then so so slowly, it feels like time has stopped, she leans in.

Her lips brush against mine in the lightest of touches, barely a kiss at all, more like a promise, like she's testing the waters, waiting for me to pull away, to tell her to stop.

But I don't. I won't.

Because in that moment, everything have ceased to exist - the city, the stars, the quiet night around us. All that's left is the warmth of her lips, the way they press against mine, gentle but certain.

I kiss her back, just as softly, just as tentatively. And for a moment, it feels like my life has reached its epitome.

Sohyun's hand, resting near my cheek, slides down to cup my jaw, her fingers warm against my skin. She tilts her head slightly, pressing her lips more firmly against mine, and I feel a soft sigh escape me before I could stop it.

My hands, awkward at first, find their way to her waist. I hold her there, not too tight, but enough to feel the warmth of her body through the thin fabric. She responds by pulling me closer, her fingers slipping into my hair, tugging me gently, deepening the kiss.

Her hands move from my jaw, sliding down my neck, her fingers grazing the sensitive skin there. My heart is pounding louder than the wind around us, around the city below. The kiss becomes more insistent, more desperate, as if we are trying to say something through it, something words can't describe.

Sohyun's lips parts with mine and for a moment, I think she's finally pulling away. But instead, she moves closer, her breath ghosting against my jawline. A soft shiver runs through me when I feel the first press of her lips against my neck, light and teasing.

Her mouth moves slowly, gently exploring, like she's savoring the taste of my skin. Her lips trail down the side of my neck, and when she presses a firmer kiss jut below my ear, I can't stop the quiet gasp that betrays my lips.

Sohyun hears it. Of course, she does. And I feel her smile against my skin.

"You are so sensitive here, Xinyu" she whipsers before her lips continue their path lower, her hands finding the back of my neck.

When she presses an open-mouthed kiss to the curve of my neck, her tongue barley flicking against my skin, I feel my whole body tense with the intensity of it. My hands tighten around her waist, pulling her even closer, yearning for more.

"Sohyun..." I whisper, barely recognizing my own voice and her response is to kiss me harder, her lips hot against the sensitive skin of my neck.

The world won't stop spinning, I reduced to nothing but the sensation of her mouth, the warmth of her body against mine and the quiet, breathless sounds that fill the space between us. It's overwhelming and yet, I can't imagine it stopping anytime soon.

When it finally does, I can still feel the ghost of her lips lingering on my skin. I feel her breath, close to my neck for a second longer before she pulls back. The cool night air rushes in where her lips had been, but the heat she left behind stays, radiating beneath my skin.

I open my eyes, barely realizing I have closed them and glance at her. Sohyun doesn't say a word. She just leans in, her dark locks scattering as she rests her head on my shoulder. Her gaze is fixed on the stars, unblinking as if she's trying to imprint them to memory.

But then, without looking away, she lets out a quiet breath and says, so softly I almost miss it.

"Fucking Apollo"

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

#triples #park sohyun #zhou xinyu #kpop fluff #girl group fluff #kpop fanfic

53 notes · View notes

kangshxrtie · 2 days

Text

23 . photos . written

prev . main

you opened the door to see xinyu standing there with a faint smile, “took you long enough.”

raising an eyebrow, you leaned against the doorframe. “i can close the door and make you go back home.”

xinyu, always quick, slipped inside before you could even finish. “i was just selling the whole ‘crazy in love’ thing. gotta be convincing, right?”

you scoffed, but a smile was already tugging at your lips. “yeah, sure. well, you definitely convinced my neighbors i’m dating a psycho.”

xinyu put her bag down and threw herself onto your couch like she owned the place, stretching out. “still better than your last ex-girlfriend.”

rolling your eyes, you sat down next to her, shaking your head. “you’re way too comfortable here for a fake girlfriend.”

xinyu leaned closer, smirking as she dropped her voice. “who says it’s all fake?”

her words hung in the air for a second too long, making your heart skip a beat. you blinked, quickly brushing it off with a roll of your eyes. “don’t joke like that.”

xinyu chuckled, leaning back casually. “i’m just playing, practicing for later.”

“right...” you muttered, glancing away to avoid her gaze. “so, should we take photos while you’re here? for the plan?”

xinyu’s eyes lit up. “yes! nakyoung’s gonna lose her mind, and sohyun’s definitely watching too.”

you shot her a sideways glance. “and what about you? all this for sohyun, huh?”

for the briefest moment, xinyu hesitated, a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place passing through her eyes. “i mean, that’s the point, right? to get our exes back?”

you nodded slowly, though something in her voice made you feel... off. “yeah... right.”

an awkward silence settled between you for a few seconds before xinyu, never one to let things stay quiet for too long, grinned playfully. “so, since i’m already here… what’s for dinner, girlfriend?”

without missing a beat, you grabbed a pillow from the couch and tossed it at her. “you can order takeout yourself. i’m not your servant.”

xinyu caught the pillow mid-air, laughing. “that’s not what you were saying in that post you ‘totally’ didn’t mean.”

you groaned, half-laughing despite yourself. “shut up!”

you watched as xinyu toyed with the pillow she’d caught. her laugh still lingered in the air, a sound you’d gotten used to but one that never failed to catch you off guard. it was almost too natural, the way she was here, sprawled out like she belonged.

“stop staring at me,” xinyu teased without looking up, tossing the pillow back onto the couch. “i know i’m hot, but you don’t need to make it obvious.”

you rolled your eyes, the sarcasm in her voice dragging you out of your thoughts. “literally nobody was staring at you.”

“mhm, sure,” she hummed, grabbing her phone and scrolling through her feed. “but seriously, we should take some photos.”

you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “what do you have in mind? like, the usual cute couple stuff?”

xinyu grinned, her eyes darting up to meet yours with a mischievous gleam. “obviously. we gotta go all out this time.”

you could feel your heart skip at her suggestions, but you did your best to play it off. “yeah, yeah, i get it. but let’s keep it... reasonable, okay?”

xinyu raised an eyebrow. “reasonable? where’s the fun in that?”

you shot her a look. “xinyu i can still kick you out.”

xinyu chuckled, “don’t be mean”

you groaned, picking up your phone to avoid her gaze. “just take the pictures already.”

xinyu sat up, moving closer until her leg was touching yours. “okay, okay, i’ll keep them family friendly.”

you wanted to respond, but the way xinyu was looking at you made you want to fold. she was too close, and the teasing tone in her voice was getting harder to ignore.

she positioned herself beside you, adjusting so that her head was closer to yours. “ready?”

you nodded, holding up your phone to snap a selfie. xinyu leaned in, resting her chin on your shoulder, her eyes soft as she smiled for the camera. you took a few more, each one more convincing than the last as xinyu snuck in close, her hand brushing against your arm, her presence filling up every inch of space next to you.

as you sat side by side on the couch, xinyu suddenly leaned in with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “let’s take one where i kiss your cheek,” she suggested, her grin widening.

“wait, what?!” you blurted out.

xinyu grabbed her bag took some bright red lipstick from her bag and put some on her lips before grabbing your chin, “can i?”

you nodded still in confusion about what was happening. she lightly put some lipstick on your lipstick before wiping it a little bit. she recapped the lipstick and then grabbed your chin again and her lips brushed against your cheek lightly as she held the pose for the camera.

the phone clicked multiple times, capturing the moments just as her lipstick smeared onto your skin, leaving a bold red mark. you could feel the warmth of her lips still lingering as you pulled back, blinking in surprise.

xinyu pulled away and laughed, glancing at the photo with satisfaction. “this is the one.”

you wiped at your cheek, noticing the bright smear of her lipstick now smudged across your face. glancing over at her, you saw xinyu’s lips were equally a mess, with the deep red smudging slightly from where she’d leaned in.

as you clicked through the photos, you couldn’t help but notice how natural they looked.

“look good?” xinyu asked, peeking over your shoulder.

“yeah, they’re fine,” you muttered, scrolling through them again.

xinyu smiled, her eyes lingering on yours for just a second longer than necessary before she pulled back, grabbing the tv remote. “now that we’re done with that, what are we watching?”

“you pick.”

as the tv turned on, you leaned back into the couch, trying to focus on anything but the strange feelings creeping up inside you. because if this was all fake... then why did it feel so real?

main . next

taglist ༒ @gtfoiydlyj . @inybits . @baewonlove . @yeetaberry127 . @sananapotter . @happyjuhyun . @nicstumblur . @istphanie . @urmom2314 . @yunalvrrr . @jeindall777 . @saysirhc . @idleyuri . @yerimbrit . @sixflame438 . @artrizzler19 . @lkimyoohyeon .

20 notes · View notes

zuzuelectricbugaloo · 8 hours

Text

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Pairing: Sans/Sans, Crepic, Cross/Epic

Rating: T

CW: I don’t believe any apply, but there is non-sexual grooming and bathing together.

Synopsis: A slightly hurt/comfort oneshot for @twinribbonz Chimera Cross AU. It’s about a month after Cross and Epic reunited. Cross feels useless and terrible, his broken wings and grimy body irritating him but he can’t do anything to help it. Or so he thought. Leave it to Epic to help Cross without the other feeling like a burden, the other skeleton determined to get it through Cross’s head that self-care is mandatory and Cross deserves all the self-indulgence he can give. It’s totally only because they’re best friends, nothing else.

Word Count: 10,459

Cross scratched at his arms whilst stalwartly ignoring the unwanted itchiness of his grimy feathers and scales. He shifted in place and rubbed at the few spots he could reach. No matter how much he scratched, the agitated feathers and scales continued to fester and burn. His limp wings caught on the ground of his enclosure below him. An unwanted weight that ached just as much as the rest of this new accursed form he called a body, that he wished he could just tear and rip them clean off.

He continued to scratch, razor shop distals harshly scraping bone against bone and sending down feathers falling one by one to the floor, while the angry buzzing in his skull grew from a quiet murmur to a reverberant roar. His chest vibrated while he unknowingly began to growl in discontent and bitter, repugnant tears welled in his sockets.

Dirt and old crusted magic has gathered within his feathers, his scales, and deep within the grooves of his bones. The sense of wrongness, at having objects wedged within the spaces of his distals and phalanges and betwixt sensitive bone bubbled and boiled in the back of his throat in a rageful, soundless scream.

Before he could give in to the impulsive urge and violently dismember himself of his upper extremities, a familiar deep, sonorous voice calls his name.

Cross perks up, his pain almost forgotten entirely, as his Soul skips a beat faster from the flood of warmth that fills his chest. He can’t quite smile — he feels far too uncomfortable — though his tempestuous glare does fall into something more relaxed.

Epic waddles into the enclosure he’d designed for Cross post-metamorphosis while carrying a large crate with contents Cross couldn’t immediately discern.

“Sup bruh!”

“Hey dude.”

A quiet ‘hup!’ and Epic sets the crate down with a thud onto the floor. He straightens and slaps his hands together in a dramatic show of dusting them off. “How’s my favorite bruh doing?”

Cross could complain that feels extremely uncomfortable and gross and utterly wrong in a body that no longer felt like his own. Epic’s presence was both a welcome reprieve and a pressing reminder of his discomforted state.

“Fine,” he decided.

Besides him, Epic is humming and bustling around. One moment he’s bending forward and taking things out of the crate and the next he’s fiddling with a panel of buttons with scribbled notes he’d installed into the wall.

Cross curiously inspected the assortment of items Epic had set out. “What’s all this for?”

“You’ve mentioned your feathers haven’t been feelin’ too good lately, so I did some research,” Epic answered as he removed his leather gloves and set them aside. He rolled up his sleeves and reached for another pair within his coat’s pocket, “And they recommended this is the best way to care for feathers like yours.”

Annoyance and guilt is a tumultuous concoction that roils in his nonexistent gut and combusts outward into a vexed growl before he could stop it. He tried to hide his limp wings further but they laid, broken and useless just like him, tucked into his sides from where his draconic bottom half sat. “I already told you and Chara both, they’ll heal on their own.”

“I know,” Epic soothed. “I won’t try an’ heal them. I just wanted to clean ‘em a bit, that’s all.” Epic’s smile falls at the corners as he gazes purposefully over his body. The inspection has Cross defensively straightening his back and feathers bristling before he can think of why he’d do that.

“Figured you probably weren’t feeling too great after not showering for a hot minute.”

With dawning horror and shame, Cross realizes he hadn’t exactly been able to bathe after…everything. Shit, he hopes he doesn’t smell that bad after a month.

When Epic’s turned back around to fiddle with his machinery, Cross takes a quick sniff under his left humerus and winces. Nope, he smelled that bad.

At least Epic had been kind enough to not make a face, or point out how awful he smelled.

“An’ I know how much you like keepin’ it spick and spiffy,” Epic continued and Cross swiftly snapped his arms back into place. “So I realized my buddy hasn’t really treated himself in a bit, and ya boi can’t let that criminally offensive injustice stand! Sooooo,” Epic twirled dramatically, his trenchcoat swaying behind him with a flourish as he posed and winked at Cross to shoot him double finger guns.

“I’ve been workin’ on a lil somethin’ I think you’ll like.” Epic’s sockets crinkle into upturned crescents as he beams and gestures to the panel. “Drumroll, please!”

Cross’s mouth quirked up in the corner as he indulged his best friends and pantomimed beating drums in midair as he droles, “dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun.”

Epic flicked a switch and suddenly, Cross feels a vibration in the air and startles, craning his torso to the side and up as he watches the walls shift and expand around him until there’s an entirely new room opened before him, and Cross can’t help but gape as he witnesses his enclosure’s transformation.

It was a wide thing, with high-vaulted bars Epic had hastily concocted with aid from both his blasters and gravity magic until he’d formed a loft large enough to provide Cross with a roof over his head. A makeshift bed compiled of mattresses lumped together to support Cross’s draconian body and a blanket that had taken Epic a day to sew until it could comfortably cover and tuck Cross in. He’d insisted he was fine and didn’t need any of this, especially since he didn’t even need a pillow when he could simply slump back onto his larger dragon to sleep.

But of course Epic insisted, and Cross was glad his token protest was taken in stride. The “bed” and blanket made him feel less like a beast, and regained a sense of normalcy again.

It helped that it smelled like him, that when Epic was gone Cross could bring the blanket up to his nose indent and inhale, slow and deep, his friend’s scent and calm as warmth and rightness filled him as cookies and sweets flooded his head. How the intent Epic had when he sewed the fabrics together was absorbed into the soft, plush cotton, the weight of the echoed feelings of care and the desire to help and reassurance I’m here from the comforter better than the sweetest lullaby when the imprints whispered genuine devotion from the Soul.

If Cross had thought crafting him a room and bed was unbearably kind of his best friend, then this was a magnanimous gesture of…he couldn’t say, for it had stolen his thoughts before it had a chance to even form into words.

When Epic flicked the switch and the walls shifted, they had transformed into a doorway that revealed a familiar bathhouse come to life. Intricate wooden structures and ornate decorations, including a painted scene of a lofty hilltop and clouds blowing in the wind. Polished floors pan over to a shower head high above the ceiling surrounded by an intricate system of cords and what he thinks is a sling. Over by the center of the room is a raised, deep tub made of polished wood.

This scene, excluding the shower area off to the side, was something straight out of a movie. In particular, a movie they’d seen during one of their anime marathons.

Bewildered, Cross glanced down at his friend. “Is…Is this Spirited Away?”

“Yeah!” Epic beamed up at him. “It’s supposed to look like one of the private baths in Yubaba’s bathhouse.”

“Like the one where Chihiro bathes the river spirit?”

“Nailed it in one, bud.”

Unsurprisingly, Cross is reminded of how incredible his best friend is, his chest feeling tight with fondness tinged in awe.

“I don’t…how did you find the time to do all this?” How had he not noticed? He’d literally been sleeping in the next room over.

“One of the many perks ‘bout not needin’ ta sleep too much,” Epic explained. “While you snooze and adorably loaf the night away, I got ta buildin’. Interior design isn't really my forte, I’ll admit, but Color’s surprisingly got a real knack for it. He helped me out with some of the schematics.”

Cross ignores the twinge of irritation at the mention of the pyro-afflicted skeleton. Big deal, so what if Epic had other friends he hung out with? He’s being ridiculous.

And it’s not like Epic made Color a special bathroom from one of their favorite movies, Cross smugly thought. And Cross was Epic’s best friend, not Color.

Still, it rubbed him the wrong way, the thought of Color leaning against Epic as they talked and looked over Epic’s work. His marrow boiled at the thought of Color placing his arm over Epic’s shoulders, or around his waist, scenting him—

An annoyed growl rumbled out his throat before he could stop it. He promptly leaned forward and pulled Epic into his arms. Already well used to Cross manhandling him, Epic simply gasped in surprise before relaxing as Cross nuzzled him, rubbing his skull all over and pressing his nasal aperture insistently into the grooves of Epic’s cervical vertebrae, the angled curve of his sharp jawline, rubbing until he was content Cross’s — and not Color’s — scent had been marked all over his best friend.

“That’s actually amazing, dude.” Cross murmured into Epic’s neck before he pulled back to grin, satisfied, at the other skeleton. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

Epic’s grin turns sheepish. He rubs the back of his hooded skull as Cross smiles at him. “Aw c’mon bro. Like I said, what kinda bestie would I be if I didn’t try an’ make ya happy?”

You already do.

The embers of warmth that flickered at the thought now blazed, an inferno of wonder.

“A-anyway!” Epic suddenly laughs, a pitch high for his smooth baritone, his cheekbones tinted violet. “Since you’re an absolute unit of a mad lad now, I thought we could have a spa day. Get you nice and pampered for a quick pick me up. And after the one you gave me, heh.” He chuckled at his joke.

Epic…Cross realized what he was doing.

He was trying to make Cross feel normal, feel comfortable in his body and how their relationship hadn’t changed at all despite Cross’s drastic change of himself.

It still wasn’t give and take. It was always give and care, nurture and cherish, trust and adore.

“So your job for today,” Epic patted the fluff adorning Cross’s exposed ribs. “As the coolest best pal in the history of ever, is to relax an’ treat yo’ self. If you don’t mind, I’m your personal self-care attendant for the day!” He gently ran his hand through the soft and snowy feathers. “I know it’d be hard for ya to clean this part, so I’ll help with that.”

As nice as the thought of Epic grooming him was, the imagery almost pulling a low purr out of him, Cross still felt shame swirl low in his abdomen.

“I don’t—” Cross hesitated. He wanted that, but it made him feel weak. Undeserving.

Useless.

“I—I feel like a burden.” How pathetic was he that he couldn’t even care for himself anymore? That he was making Epic take care of him.

How selfish was he that he liked it…

“Cross,” Epic’s stern voice throws him off. “You’re never a burden.”

“But—”

“Never.” Epic’s not having it. “I’m doing this because I want to, because I care about you.”

“And, again,” Epic grins, lifting his hands and reaching out for him and Cross instinctively reaching back, their hands slotting together like pieces of puzzle despite how Cross was now more than twice his size.

“What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t help my buddy out when he needs me?” Softer, he squeezes Cross’s hands, his covered thumbs stroking the back of Cross’s palms. “I wanna take care of you.”

Both of Epic’s eyes are open, white and violet eyelights gazing into Cross’s own orbs in an open display of vulnerability. It was a Soul melting sight, Cross’s chest becoming warm once more as Epic reveals one of the parts of himself that he hates the most to Cross.

“Let me take care of you,” Epic implored. A tingle travels up Cross’s spine.

Ambivalent towards himself, he’s torn between his hubris and exhaustion. Why was it always so easy to maintain a façade around others, but with Epic all it took was his sweet, earnest supplication, and Cross crumbled, desperate not to fall but he’d fallen anyway.

His mouth feels dry and there’s a fluttering in his nonexistent gut. He wants to say yes, to fall into the safety that was Epic and follow him wherever he’d lead them both. But his pride is always his undoing. “I’m not some baby to be coddled, I’m a soldier. I was the X-Event,” he spits out far harsher than he means to, “A threat to the very fabric of the multiverse itself.”

Epic nods. “I know.” He states it like it's a fact.

“I can take care of myself just fine.” No he can’t. He’s useless, just look at his broken wings and barbaric horrorshow amalgamation of a body.

“You can, and you do,” Epic agrees easily. “You’re phenomenal as you are Cross. I don’t doubt you’ll always be able to take care of yourself no matter what happens.”

“But we’re best friends, yeah?” Cross nods and Epic continues. “So we’ll always take care of each other. I want to take care of you always not ‘cause I think you’re incapable or impotent,”

How did Epic always know what he was thinking?

How could Epic read his unvoiced thoughts and feelings like a book, like Cross had always been a part of him and always will be?

He adores the solicitude as much as it terrifies him.

“It’s ‘cause you mean a lot to me.”

Iridescent alabaster and glittering violet orbs of life glisten within onyx voids. The loveliest stars Cross had ever seen, shining bright just for him as they waited patiently for him. Always patient, always kind.

“Yeah, yeah,” Cross’s voice comes out rougher than he means it to. “Same here.”

Those luminous mismatched eyelights impossibly brighten further as Epic’s smile stretched. “And it won’t just be you. I’ll join ya! Never been to a bathhouse myself so ‘m also pretty excited.”

Cross perked up. Epic would let Cross groom him?

He titters a happy chirp as Epic pats his side, a signal to let him down. Reluctantly, Cross leans down until he can set Epic back on his feet and onto the ground.

Cross realized something as Epic turned back to the panel. “Wait, how’re you gonna reach me?”

“With a little swing and a fling.” Epic pushes a button and a swing/like harness lowers itself from the ceiling to hang beside the scientist. He hooks himself into the harness and shoots Cross a wink before his thumb presses down on a different switch.

With a click he’s hoisted up until he’s brought to eye-level with a bewildered Cross. Giggling and idly kicking his legs in carefree asymmetric swings as he leans forward with a single digit to tap the front of Cross’s nose indent.

“Boop.” Cross blinked. “Like this.”

Epic fiddles with the controls on the harness to zoom around Cross, whose head jerks to the side to follow his movements. “So we can both sit back and relax.”

“Okay.” Cross’s Soulbeat quickened when Epic maneuvered himself down to the crate to scoop up a bucket full of various supplies. “First thing’s first, we gotta get all the gunk and debris stuck in your feathers out before we trim your wings. Not heal,” Epic hastily added before Cross could interject. “Just trim. To keep it from getting too long.”

Cross slowly nodded. Their length had been getting annoying. “Okay. What next?”

Epic’s hands softly stroke the feathers of Cross’s right side as he answers. “Then we get you soaped up and rinsed off in a shower to get the last of the muck off ya. And then get ya soaked river spirit style.”

Low, pleased purrs emit from his throat as Epic starts to weave his phalanges into the feathers of his right side, gently plucking and scraping off whatever dirt and unwanted waste he finds. Cross’s eyes slowly close instinctually as he relishes in the feeling of Epic’s careful ministrations against his body.

Cross’s voice was low when he questioned, “Why shower if we’re bathing anyway?”

“So you don’t lay in your own filth pretty much,” Epic’s humming paused as he explained. “And then you soak up all the fancy minerals from the bath. ‘S one reason why you stay in there for a while.” He plucked out a stick caught between Cross’s feathers and threw it to the side with a bemused expression. “‘Cause you wanna absorb all that good shit.”

“Skeletons soaking in hot, mineralized water…” Cross mused. “So, we’ll be making bone broth then.” Epic let out a startled bark of laughter, Cross’s mouth quirked upwards in a proud grin as his friend switched to another segment.

“LOL, more like cricket broth.”

It took him a second before he got it and Cross groaned with a roll of his eyelights. “I told you already,” Cross grumbled. “Dragon bod, I’m not an insect.”

“Technically y’are. Six limbs~” Epic retorted in a playful, sing-song voice.

“I’ll smack you with my tail.”

Epic’s decadent, silken, sonorous bass of a voice is going to be the death of him, even in jest, as he jokes, “Gonna whip me for bein’ disobedient?” Epic purred, meeting Cross’s gaze as he wiggled his boney brows and winked. “Kinky.”

Cross flushed purple and contemplated if bucking Epic off of him would be worth it or not. He was about to snark back when Epic’s leather glides across his hind leg’s feathers and dips down and betwixt them until he’s stroking his body itself.

The full-bodied shudder travels up and down his spine like he’d been zapped by electricity. Immediately after his head goes warm with the rest of him as his top half slumps forward slightly and he groans in sweet, sweet relief. That awful, incessant itch that had plagued him for weeks was finally being taken care of and oh, stars, he never knew how much he’d needed this until now.

“Poor thing,” Epic murmured under his breath. Unaware Cross’s hearing had sharpened with the rest of his senses and caught on. “This must’ve been a real bitch to deal with.”

Epic is methodical with his touch, each caress of his gentle hands running through Cross’s feathers sends a soothing sensation throughout his entire body. Rhythmic strokes and careful attention to every one of his snowy plumes evoke a sense of relaxation and trust so deep Cross could fall asleep upright from the bliss.

But as good as this felt, as nice as the tentative scratches against the heated flesh beneath his plumage was, Cross wanted more. He wanted to feel Epic’s hands, free from the gloves, run over his body and through his feathers entirely.

He wanted his mate to groom him proper, feel no physical barrier between them in this intimate moment of connection.

Cross flushed when he requests as casually as he can, “Can you take the gloves off?”

Epic pauses. His fingers retreat from the feathers they’d been stroking and Cross almost growls in vexation that he’d stopped those heavenly caresses. “Oh, sorry bruh.” Without a second thought Epic slid his gloves off and stuffed them in his coat pocket. “Must be uncomfortable feelin’ leather rubbin’ all over ya.”

Rhythmic strokes, gentle caresses, Epic’s rich voice full of warmth and deep with affection. “Better?” He asked.

Cross nodded, his rolling purrs drowning out all his remaining thoughts. “So much. Thanks, dude.”

“No worries bud.”

Epic hated his hands. Despised their mutilated appearance, hated exposing his hands because of the holes in the middle of his palms. Results that were forced on him by unwanted experimentation and made him resemble his bastard creator.

He should be ill at ease, from not only having them displayed but also touching someone dear to him.

But he can’t. And he isn’t. Instead, he feels content, fluttering warmth deep in his Soul and in his chest as Cross melts underneath Epic’s touch. It's like his Eye, how he only felt truly comfortable with raw vulnerability when it was with Cross. Something about his best friend just made it seem so easy.

Eventually, Epic reaches one of the limp wings. They’re mostly numb to Cross, but the skeleton tenses anyway when Epic begins to groom the wing at the plumage of the upper wing coverts.

Carefully, slowly, Epic gently plucks at and sifts through the feathers, far more tentative than with the feathers on Cross’s body. Sliding and gingerly pecking with his phalanges any clutter he finds and lets it fall to the floor as he maneuvers himself within his harness.

Cross preens, chirping happily when Epic swiftly moves from the down feathers to the primary and secondary coverts. Once he’s reached the tip, he pauses, stroking the feathers as he glances up at Cross.

“Is it alright if I start trimming?”

Cross doesn’t realize the affirmative he vocalized was a chirp and not a word. Epic nodded regardless, lifting the wing’s tip with one hand and holding a pair of scissors in the other. Epic made sure he lifted the plumage to clearly identify the feather shafts. He read to avoid cutting those to prevent injury. With the smaller feathers above the primary wings as his guide, Epic carefully began the process of trimming Cross’s wing.

Unfortunately for Cross, because his wings had been broken for weeks, he couldn’t fully enjoy the feeling of Epic’s grooming and now delicate trimming. Still, he could faintly feel Epic’s tender intent, and that was enough for Cross to watch in content as Epic cared for him.

Slow and careful, he cut, trimming the feathers one by one and meticulously making his way down the wingspan.

While Epic grooms him, Cross can’t help but think how nurturing Epic is towards him — this is no special case. He’s just always taken care of Cross in some way, some form. From movie nights to beach escapades, arcades, their regular hangouts. He’d always made Cross feel cared for without being a burden.

He thinks about how nurturing and kind Epic is to everyone, really, especially children. How Epic made something as troublesome as dealing with those tykes seem easy and even fun whenever he interacted with them. That made Cross think maybe he’d want to be a parent someday, if he had a partner as good as Epic.

He thought of how much kids like Palette and Goth adored Epic, calling him uncle and laughing like mad when Epic pretended to pull them over for speeding in his “Chick Mobile”, Epic adorned with aviator shades and a ridiculous glued on mustache as he chased after the cackling children with a rubber chicken.

“Officer Bruh reporting in! We got a Bruh-1-1, bruh! Get back here and stop resisting arrest!”

“You’ll never take us alive, copper!” Goth shouted while Palette turned to shoot at Epic with his bubble gun. Epic dramatically dodging and whooping in a series of acrobatics to avoid the harmless projectiles as though it was truly deadly.

“Yeah, these cookies are all ours!” Palette exclaimed and defiantly chewed on said stolen goodie. A bubble popped on Epic’s sweater.

He shouted, grasping at his chest before dramatically tumbling until he collapsed and spasmed on the ground. “Officer down! Officer down! Bleh,” Epic stuck his tongue out and went still, his hands placed over his chest as he pretended to be at rest.

The kids laughed like it was the funniest thing ever.

All Cross did at the time was chuckle and film per Epic’s request for the kids’ parents later, unable to push his bright grin down or explain the fondness that turned his Soul into mush.

Unbidden, he thinks of how that moment was only one of many more, definitive proof that Epic would be an amazing parent. A compassionate father, better than his and Cross’s ever were.

He wondered if Epic would admire him if Cross got along with kids, too. If Epic would watch him as Cross would watch Epic, admiring and unbearably, unfathomably soft. As Epic joined the kids in their goofy, nonsensical misadventures. As Epic read to the Souls of the children lost that were bound to Color.

As Epic smiled down the bed in front of him, gently tucking in a protesting XChara that they weren’t technically a child, he didn’t need Epic to tuck them in. Epic simply nodded with understanding as he brushed XChara’s bangs out of their face and their eyes drooped shut. “I know. Sleep well, bud.”

Cross recalled a picnic they’d gone on, laying side by side and gazes tilted to the stars above as they talked about nothing and everything. How Epic had confided he’d always wanted kids of his own, but wanted to raise them alongside a loving partner. Yet he seemed undesirable to most and had set that dream aside into a little box of wishes within the blanket of the starry night. Maybe someday, he’d sighed. The stars glittered with his silent longing.

“We’ll still be best friends, right?” Cross’s voice wobbled when he’d thought of Epic distracted by a blurry lover and equally unknown expressions of Epic’s children in Cross’s mind. Dismissing Cross in favor of his better, more exciting romantic interest, strolling off with his arm around their waist and their children trailing after them. Leaving Cross behind.

Epic had laced their hands together and smiled at Cross with eyes as deep and profound as the ocean, the light of his Soul shining among the constellations of the night.

“Always,” he’d promised. “You and me against the world, forever and always, Cross.”

Cross had felt his chest tighten at the time. He’d stared at Epic while the older skeleton stared back into the sky before he eventually tore his gaze away to look up to the bright lights himself. Maybe someday, he’d agreed, their hands intertwined together

An insistent call of his name pulls Cross out of his thoughts. He blinks into clarity and turns to his left to see Epic, who’d been tapping Cross’s side to catch his attention.

“Yeah dude?”

“You’re all set bud.” Epic gestured to the side. “Wanna head on over? Last thing we need to do is shower and then we can soak the night away.”

“You too, yeah?”

“Sure am! But we oughta get you taken care of first big guy,” Epic swings around, fiddling with his panel and tapping away at buttons and switches as he spoke. “According to what I searched, you’re not ‘sposed to shampoo or soap feathers ‘cause it would make it too ‘oily’ and hard to fly. Buuuut,”

Epic spun around to face Cross once more as he hung in front of him. “You don’t wanna fly anytime soon right?”

With his useless wings? “Nope,” Cross agreed.

“So I’ll leave it up to you man. D’you wanna try out shampoo and conditioner or soap? I got a bunch of scents for both for ya to pick from.”

Epic baps his fist against a panel on the wall with a small thunk and Cross is gobsmacked when it opens with two shelves of bottles of various colors and shapes popping out. Cross would’ve questioned it but then he recalled something like that was also from the movie and dismissed his unasked question.

“Take your pick! I got your old favorite, cherry blossom, but a whole bunch of others too. There’s rose, coconut, chocolate, vanilla, elderflower, and—”

“Wait, Epic,” Cross interrupted. “If we’re gonna soak in a mineralized bath, wouldn’t these scents be pointless?”

“…” Epic visibly deflated. Cross tried not to laugh.

Violet paints his cheekbones as he purses his mouth and glances side to side. “…Nuh uh.”

“Thought about everything except that, huh,” Cross teased.

“Aw, maaaan,” Epic pouted. “There goes all my G.”

Cross patted him on his back. “It’s okay. I can just use them later, no worries.” He plucked out a bottle of rose scented body wash. “And these are just a few bottles. It’s not like you got buckets of these or anything right?”

Epic was silent.

“Dude!”

“What?! You’re huge!” Defensively Epic waved his arms to gesture to all of Cross. “I had to make sure I had enough that you could use and have variety!”

This time Cross did laugh, unable to resist when picturing what the poor cashiers’ baffled faces must’ve looked like when Epic bought a boatload of soaps and washes.

“Oh stars,” Cross chortled. “And they just—they just let you buy all that?”

“I mean, it’s the same place I get all my condoms, so I’m pretty sure they assumed I’m a sugar daddy or something.”

Cross lost it.

“Uh huh,” Epic droned while his best friend laughed so hard he cried. “Yuuuuuup. Laugh it up. Get it all out of your system. Uh huh.”

“Y-you didn’t even try to defend yourself? Mention how you use those as a gag?”

“What, and go, “hey, so, I’m not actually a sugar daddy plannin’ to get real freak-ayyy, but I need you to keep this on the down-low ‘cause I don’t want anyone to know ‘bout this,” and that doesn’t sound hella sketch to you? Nah, man, nah.”

Cross wheezed, his laughter so loud and hard his ribs ached. Once he’s calmed enough, his breathing no longer laborious and interrupted by only the occasional giggle, he wipes the tears gathered at the corners of his sockets away.

When his hands fall away from his eyes the sight of Epic smiling is revealed, his gaze tender and full of affection that has Cross’s nonexistent gut doing flips and confusion filling him at why he wants to break his gaze away from that tender look.

Mana rushed to his cheekbones. Somewhat embarrassed, he queried, “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just…it’s been a while since you laughed like that.”

What? No, it couldn’t have. Epic always made him laugh like no one else did, why wouldn’t…?

Oh. Right.

His smile fell.

Cross hasn’t laughed that hard since he’d found Epic after…after whatever happened to him. That turned him into this.

His arms began to itch.

“Sorry, I got side-tracked.” Epic tapped at a bottle. “Did you pick one you wanna try?”

Quietly, “Chocolate, please.”

“Alright.” Epic tap taps, and then, he’s fluttering around Cross like he had earlier when grooming his wings, popping the bottle open and sliding it into the wall. A few mechanical wirrs later, a crane carrying a bucket slowly drifts side to side as it tilts, the scent of warm chocolate making Cross’s mouth water as the liquid soap is spread until his dragon body and wings are coated in the substance. Once it’s empty, it’s brought back into the wall, the panel closing shut behind it.

Cross shudders at the feeling, his feathers registering the cold and blocking the sensation from the heated flesh beneath the plumage only for a moment. Even so, his eyes burn. His sockets well with tears he forced himself to hold back as he blinked.

Epic’s habitual humming has picked up. He starts to gently lather the feathers as his phalanges glide between the individual plumes and shifts them apart to gently scrub the irritated flesh beneath.

Cross greedily soaks up his intent. Relishes the feeling of Epic gingerly scratching and scrubbing to remove stubborn bits of dirt and grime. He tries to force back the familiar sensation of his throat tightening up, of his face burning and liquid mana surging and pushing to be released.

“We’ll get you soaped up real good so all that’s left is a rinse.” Epic speaks but it’s hard to hear with the growing sound of his own inner voice reprimanding him. Scolding Cross to toughen up, repeating his soldier’s mantra “calm emotions, calm Soul.”

Don’t cry, this is supposed to be fun. This is supposed to be nice. Epic’s trying so hard to make things normal again, why can’t you do just this one thing right?

XGaster’s cold voice overlaps Epic’s, whatever he’s saying about his wings and if it hurts if he moves them a little is drowned out by that awful, cruel gaze and disinterested tone.

“Useless boy—”

He’s fine, everything’s fine. Don’t cry, don’t cry, Cross. You’re not a crybaby.

“—failed experiment—”

A cold, dark room. An observation table. His wrists shackled to the wall. A blur of crimson and his own soundless scream ringing in his skull. His legs, he couldn’t feel his legs!

“You are worthless to me, Sans.”

And just like everything else, he failed to do one thing.

Purple tears fell from his sockets in rivulets.

He was always useless.

“— good, think I got every — Cross?”

Epic zooms over, hands hovering beside Cross’s skull but hesitating to touch him. Cross can’t fight back the bitter sob but resolutely keeps his mouth shut. The garbled cry is followed by yet more tears.

Cross leans forward until his zygomas are cradled in Epic’s soothingly cold hands against his heated skull.

“Hey hey hey, buddy, what’s wrong? What happened?” Epic’s thumbs wiped the translucent purple magic as it poured out his eyes. “Did I touch you somewhere bad and it hurt? I’m so sorry, I can—”

“No, no, ‘s not you,” Cross sniffed, desperately trying to shove the tears back but they refused. Useless crybaby. “I-I, I just, I got—”

He couldn’t bear to look at his best friend’s face, the blatant concern and worry worsened the tight feeling in his chest and he was drowning in his tears, self-reproach and loathing bitter on his tongue and burning his aching throat.

When Cross tilted his skull in shame and looked down, he noticed Epic’s pants were covered in soap. In handprints missing circular center shaped prints.

He’d wiped his hands to cradle Cross like he was something precious, something too valuable to be sullied by soap.

Somehow that noetic sentiment breaks Cross further and he snarls. Trembling with rage and tears while Epic steadfastly held him as he fell apart.

“I hate this body,” Cross raged. His arms burned like they were on fire and something was tearing him apart from the inside out. “This—this isn’t me! This isn’t—!” Helpless, resentful tears welled in his sockets. “I hate it, Epic. I hate it!”

“I can’t fly, I can’t fix myself, I can’t even remember who did this to me or how this happened!”

Useless, useless, useless!

“I know, Cross.” His knuckles are brought to his mouth, the kiss a forlorn apology of understanding and empathetic sorrow. “I know.”

Cross’s massive body trembled and his chest heaved. The snarls tumbling out his clenched jaws feral and impossibly loud in the echo of the enclosed room.

Yet Epic held onto him anyway, undeterred and determined. His body used to fit perfectly in Cross’s arms, but now Cross could pin him down with his torso alone.

That thought made his jaws ache with an indiscernible urge to bite down, to sink his teeth into Epic and see if he’d try and fight Cross then no he wouldn’t he’d never hurt him, not now nor ever but Cross hurts, he wants to scream and cry and rage and tear himself apart until he’s got nothing left to give if it would only mean his agony stop—

It’s okay/I have you/I’m here/Come back to me

Cross blinked in surprise, shuddering from the abrupt sound of a familiar, beloved voice in his head and the tingle of pleasant, soothing cold running up his arms. He chirped in confusion, sockets slowly opening and closing until his rage subsided and Epic’s visage was clear before him.

A steady, persistent murmur. “Hey, sweetheart,” Epic’s voice greeted him. Cross realized Epic’s hands were insentently holding Cross’s wrist. Keeping Cross’s claws pressed up against Epic’s chest as something continues to beat below his sweater and emanate that soothing, delightful cold. Waves of Epic’s intent pour through that point of contact and rush up Cross’s arms and to his own steadily calming Soul.

It’s okay/Please come back/I'm here/Its okay sweetheart

Epic’s forehead was pressed against Cross’s and his other hand softly stroked his zygomatic arch. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Sweetheart? Cross?

“It’s okay, you’re safe. I promise. I have you, okay?” Slowly, Cross nodded. Unwilling to move too fast and remove the pointed contact between them. Unwilling to tear his gaze away from gentle ivory and violet lights.

“That’s it, Cross,” Epic smiled. The praise floods Cross’s system with a rush. His growls eased into comfortable, pleased purrs. “Good job bud.”

Yes, he was good. Cross’s tail thumped behind him a light sweep of a wag.

“There we go. That’s it. Just keep focusing on me, listen to my voice.”

How could he not? It was so lovely, the richest baritone Cross had ever heard. Smooth and decadent, better than any dark chocolate he’d tasted, silken and sonorous. Cross could listen to Epic speak for hours on end and he’d never grow weary of that melodic voice.

“Yeah, just like that.” Epic sighed and slumped forward, letting his arms fall back to pull Cross into a tight embrace. The anxiety and concern evaporated once Cross had calmed and now left the older skeleton feeling exhausted from the crash of adrenaline. “Jeez, bruh.”

Cross wrapped his arms around Epic, happy to hold his dearest friend close.

“You good?”

Cross nuzzled the back of Epic’s collar with a low purr. It took a moment for the question to register, and when it did, Cross forced his mouth to move. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, long as you’re okay,” Epic reassured. “Haven’t had to use the Soul for something like that for a while. But I kinda freaked when you tried to tear your arms off man.”

“I did?” Epic nodded. The movement caused his nose indent to rub against Cross’s neck.

“Yeah. You couldn’t hear me so I gambled. Glad it worked.”

“You called me sweetheart.” Butterflies fluttered through his chest at the reminder.

“Well, yeah,” Epic pulled back from the embrace to look into Cross’s eyes and defend himself. “‘Cause you’re sweet, an’ it helps talkin’ through things and being complimented—”

“No need to explain. You helped me the best way you could.”

“Yeah, exactly! You get it.”

“I do.” Cross smirked. “Sweetheart.”

Delight bloomed in Cross’s chest along with the tint of violet in Epic’s cheekbones. “Okay but when you say it, it sounds gay.”

“I’m bi.”

Epic snorted. “Bruh, I know.”

A persistent itch under his plumage. “As cute as you are flustered,” Cross grinned while Epic sputtered. “The soap is starting to dry and I’m getting kinda itchy—”

“Huh? Oh. Oh! Yeah, let’s get your rinsed off.” Epic pulled out of the hug completely as he zoomed around in his harness. Flicking switches and popping panels open until the shower head turns on and comfortably warm water gushes out in a pleasant stream onto Cross’s draconian half.

Epic handed him more of the bottle and a brush, saying he could go ahead and start drubbing himself off and Epic will help with other parts Cross can’t reach once he’s finished with his lower body.

The water is powerful enough that Epic didn’t need to do too much, fluttering in the air like a hummingbird as he brushed and smoothed Cross’s feathers and skin until he’s satisfied the soap had been washed out. Then he lowered himself to Cross’s scaled legs, brushing the powerful limbs while whistling a merry tune as Cross watched him from above in curious amusement.

The debris, trimmed feathers, and old scales pool and circle the drain. Already, Cross feels refreshed and like a brand new skeleton as he sees and feels vindictive pleasure as the filth that had bothered him for so long circles the drain.

Once Epic’s finished with his legs, he returns to Cross’s eye-level and gestures to his back. “Need any help?”

Cross could reach it just fine on his own, but since Epic offered…

He hands Epic the brush. “Yeah, thanks.”

“No prob.” Cross shivers as Epic carefully scrubs the back of his spine and ribs, cautiously dipping the brush between the grooves and purposefully keeping the pressure light to prevent any accidental mishaps with the sensitive bones.

“How do you feel?” Cross hummed.

“Much, much better,” Cross confessed. “I had no idea how much I missed showers ‘til now.”

“Mhmm.” Epic agreed, maneuvering the shower head to rinse Cross’s ribs. He checked to make sure he hadn’t missed any spots while he mused, “It’s the simple things that are often taken for granted most.”

For Epic, it was a peaceful night’s rest.

For Cross, it was his fully skeletal body.

Epic pulled back, the swing carrying him off of Cross’s side. “Aaaand you’re all set! Lookin’ squeaky clean and smellin’ great, bruh.” He patted Cross on the shoulder. “Why don’t ya go ahead and get comfy in the tub and I’ll join you after I rinse off here?”

Cross shook his head. “No.”

Epic’s smile fell at the corners before he righted them, brows furrowed in confusion. “No? Why not?”

“It’s your turn.”

“Uh, yeah? ‘S why I’m gonna shower,” Epic trailed off when Cross grabbed the hem of his sweater and lightly tugged once with a pointed look. Understanding dawned across his features. “Oh, ‘m fine bud, you don’t have ta—”

“I want to.” Cross insists. Satisfaction curls deep in his gut when his claw trails up Epic’s back, the sharpened talon-esque phalanges catching on the material of his cloak and how his sharpened hearing catches the audible gulp his best friend tried to hide. “You said I could earlier,” Cross reminds him, “That we’d be helping each other.”

“I did,” Epic agreed.

“Do you want me to see if I can grab you a set of shorts or…?”

“Nah, ‘s good,” Epic dismissed with a careless wave of his hand. “Put on a pair of swimming trunks under the usual pants just for today.”

“What? Why not just wear the trunks instead of pants in the first place?”

“Habit, I guess.”

“Okay then weirdo,” It was said far too fondly to be an insult. Cross tugged at Epic’s sweater. “Off we go.”

Epic chuckles and slips out the harness and onto Cross’s hip. Rolling his shoulders back and letting his coat fall onto Cross while the soldier watched with unusual anticipation.

“Heh,” the older skeleton’s grin is teasing as he hoists his sweater over his head. “Not gonna take me out to dinner first before you try to get me wet?” He sets the sweater beside his cloak, phalanges slipping into the hem of his waistband. “And here I thought you were a gentleman.”

“I am a gentleman.” Cross’s hand held onto Epic’s waist to keep him steady as he shook off his boots. Cross was surprised by how much his hand could hold, and wondered if both his hands were on Epic’s waist if his distal phalanx would touch. “See? I’m helpful.”

“The most helpful.” Epic concurred. With Cross’s support, he was able to shimmy out of his pants and sure enough, swim trunks obstructed his pelvis and part of his upper femurs from his view.

Not that Cross was staring or anything. They’d gone swimming before in the past. In fact, he recognized the familiar Dragonball themed swim trunks as soon as they’d peaked out from Epic’s waistband, orange and white with one of Epic’s favorite memes inscribed on the sides “IT’S OVER 9,000!”

Although his gaze was inexplicably drawn to the curve of Epic’s spine as he bent forward to remove his pants. To the curve of his pelvic wings and the way his ribs moved with his motions.

Epic stood up straight and Cross released him. He stayed within his space, though, just in case Epic slipped and fell off. His best friend scooped his pile of clothes up into his arms and into a ball, hoisted them over his head, and unceremoniously threw them with an enthusiastic “YEET” so they landed back into Cross’s enclosure with a bounce and spread apart.

With all too affectionate exasperation well used to Epic’s antics, Cross asked, “Why not just use your gravity magic and let it land?”

Epic smacked his hands together and tilted his skull up to Cross to wink as he shot him with double finger guns. “Y’know why, ‘cause it’s fun! Oh! You know what we should totally do?”

Epic’s eyelights gleamed in excitement. “I can set up a basketball hoop near the tub and you can toss me through it!”

“Why?”

“For the Kobe, bruh, the Kobe!”

Admittedly, it did sound like a fun idea, and though Cross would be more than happy to indulge Epic in his shenanigans, he was far more interested in grooming Epic as he’d done for him.

To show he’s a good potential mate

“Later,” Cross promised. “I wanna take care of you now.”

Cross would never tire of being the cause for Epic blushing. It was inexplicably gratifying, knowing that Epic’s lovely face would burn so sweet and pretty just for Cross when he wasn’t usually one so easy to fluster.

“Okie dokie.” Epic flexed his phalanges. His feet shuffled side to side in uncertainty. “Uh, are you okay with me sitting on you for this?”

“Yeah it’s fine. You’ve done it before.” Cross “loafing”, as Epic would call it, while they watched a movie or started a show. Playing a board game or eating together whenever Epic took a break from analyzing Cross’s magic.

They couldn’t cuddle before like they used to, not with Cross’s drastic change in size. So they made do with their new normal. Or at least Epic did, once he was certain Cross didn’t mind. Perhaps Cross would dislike it, if it were anyone else other than Epic.

“Alright alright alriiiight,” Epic drawled. Giggling after referencing one of his many favorite vocal stims. “But if ya ever do get uncomfy, lemme know an’ I’ll hop off.

“Sounds good.”

And with that, Epic began to scrub, flexing and bending his phalanges to catch anything caught between the grooves separating the phalanxes. Gradually working his way up to his metacarpals.

Cross imitated Epic’s earlier gestures, gently brushing all the hard to reach places whilst carefully avoiding exerting too much pressure behind his movements.

“It feels nice, right?” Cross hummed his agreement. “I could do this myself, but it just feels good when there’s someone else,” there’s a tone in Epic’s voice Cross couldn’t quite distinguish, like he’s trying to hint at or lead up to something but Cross didn’t know what.

His best friend had started scrubbing his legs, one knee bent to his chest and straight out with his leg extended. “Sure help makes it easier, but it’s not required.”

“Uh huh.” Cross gave him a once-over. Satisfied with his work but regretful that it was over so soon. It made sense, he supposed. Cross hadn’t bathed in a while unlike Epic, so of course he’d be dirtier.

Epic’s skull turned back at an angle to glance up at Cross. “I’m not useless for wanting some help cleaning up, am I?”

“What? No, of course not!” How could Epic say that? “You asking for help when you need it shows how self-aware you are. You’re not lesser or weak for reaching out.” Epic is incredible, the person he admired most. And that admiration came from years of knowing Epic and seeing for himself all the amazing things his best friend is capable of, and just how kind and good his Soul was.

“I think it shows how strong you are, that you know you can’t do everything alone and instead of wallowing in self-pity, you ask and—” Cross paused. Epic continued to watch him, waiting, expectant. “…Oh.” Now it was Cross’s turn to blush.

“There we go.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Not at all.” Epic refuted. “You’re just a little stubborn, sometimes.”

“You put up with me anyway.”

“You’re my best friend Criss-Cross,” Epic grinned. “You’re stuck with me for life, buddy. Ride or die ‘til the end my guy. Couldn’t get me away from ya for nothin’.”

Tener, light touches as fingers made of bone glided between the downy plumage of his wing. “An’ part of my sacred duty as best bud is makin’ sure you’re alright.”

All that remained unspoken filled the air between them, their bond knowing all too well what they meant without needing it said aloud.

Let me take care of you?

Cross hesitated. His inner demons were silent, put to rest by Epic’s steadfast compassion. Still, he…he couldn’t help but feel trepidation about fixing himself, anxious of too many unknown variables of what may happen. Particularly after the disasters of attempting to split his Soul during the time he’d been fused with XChara.

“Can we wait? Just a little longer?”

Yes. Wait for me.

Epic didn’t protest. “You're not in any pain, right?”

Cross shook his head and Epic slowly exhaled with a slow nod. “Okay. We can wait, then. Whenever you’re ready, Cross.”

I’ll always be here.

Grateful beyond measure for his friend, all Cross could do to convey his thanks was bend forward to press his forehead against Epic’s. “Thank you.”

Epic gently pressed back, smiling as they gazed into each other’s eyes. “I got ya.”

Always.

All too soon, Epic pulled away. He lowered the shower head down to his height to rinse himself off before he let go and let it return to its stationary position on the ceiling.

“Now c’mon! I’ve been wanting to soak for forever now,” he exaggerated. He held onto Cross’s arm as he moved, willing his draconic legs to stand and meander over to the tub.

“Alright alright, I’m going.”

“Yuss!” Epic posed, hand on his hip and arm outstretched. “Onward, to glory!”

“I feel glorious.” Cross deadpanned as he slowly settled onto his pair of knees. Epic eagerly slid down Cross’s side like a baseball player, whooping “yaba dabba doo!” while he slided down his tail. In an impressive display of acrobatics, Epic vaulted over the tub by using the walls as a springboard and stood by the wall, waiting to make sure Cross was watching him.

“Sooo, you remember how there’s a panel Chihiro had to whack to get the bath tokens to pop out?”

“Uh huh.” Epic pointed to the spot on the wall where painted clouds were formed into an “X” shape.

“Do a Britney and hit it baby one more time!”

Cross snickered and did just that. The panel popped open, red and black rectangular tokens with golden shapes hung by string.

“And pick whichever, they all come from the same source.”

Cross randomly selected the circle token and tugged, the wooden block disappearing upwards and away while the panel slowly closed itself up. He startled when he felt warm water, almost unbearably hot, started to pour from a bamboo tube. A few moments later he relaxed, the tension in his bones melting away the more his bones absorbed the heat.

The moment the water reached Cross’s lower ribs the flow abruptly stopped, the bamboo tube sliding up and into the wall. The panel clicked shut.

Cross waited, perking up while Epic strolled over the rim before he contorted, keeping his arms gripping the tub’s rim behind him while he dipped his legs in one by one until he was hanging over next to Cross. Cross felt a pang of disappointment that Epic was next to and not pressed up against him and slid his arm around his waist and cradled his entire left pelvic wing to pull him close.

It must’ve caught Epic off guard because he squeaked, limbs jerking slightly when Cross wrapped both his arms around Epic to loosely hug him close, Epic’s legs bracketing Cross’s hips while his hands shot out to support himself and gripped Cross’s shoulders tight.

“Whoa hey!” Epic babbled, zygomas burning with violet mana as Cross intently stared at him. “Uhhh. Hi there.”

Cross tilted his skull to the side in bemusement but greeted him nonetheless. “Hello.”

Epic’s eyelights darted to the side and back to Cross’s face, his flush deepening when Cross’s chest slowly began to rev up, the first pleased, low chirp tumbling out of him. He slid his hands down Cross’s humeri and paused at the junction between his radia and ulnas.

“I could just, uhm, sit next to you, y'know? O-on your back.”

This felt unbearably intimate. Soaking in a communal bath was one thing. Wrapped up in his friend’s arms while he stared at him like the cat that got the cream was another.

“You could.” Cross replied. “But I want to hold you.”

Epic wheezed on an embarrassed note of laughter. “Okay, yeah, sure. Whatever you want bud. Can I not straddle you while you do, though?”

Cross didn’t understand, he thought this was the perfect way to hold Epic and felt perfectly comfortable as is. But if Epic wasn’t, then he’d have to change it.

Reluctantly, Cross loosened his grip. Epic wiggled, sliding his legs back off and Cross felt a pang of loneliness from the missing weight, a mournful chirrup tightening his throat and disrupting his purrs.

Then Epic nuzzled into his side. His arms around Cross’s waist while he laid his head on Cross’s sternum and his purring resumed. “There we go. Didn’t mean to sound like we couldn’t cuddle,” Epic apologized. Cross affectionately rubbed his cheekbone against the top of his skull. “That was just, uh, a-a way to cuddle that’s a bit too much for friends, ‘s’all,” he explained.

Cross didn’t get it, couldn’t quite see why Epic got as flustered as he had despite Cross appreciating how adorable the demure expression was on him. It had felt right to Cross, yet another way they could embrace and be close, but he nodded anyway, satisfied he could still cradle his dearest friend. “Okay.”

All he knew for certain as he stared, uncomprehending, was how he felt. And all he felt was peaceful contentment.

“This is nice, huh?” Epic spoke up. “Weirdly quiet, I think, but nice.”

“Yeah.” Cross sniffed the air, curious about the different scents wafting off of the mineralized water. “What’d you put in here?”

Epic beamed. “I did some research, and nabbed some stuff like yuzu, bancha, and kuma bamboo grass,” Epic’s sockets slowly drifted shut as he relaxed, his ribcage beginning to vibrate beneath the water as his own instinctual purrs tried to escape. He resisted, his deep voice slightly hoarse while he continued his explanation, “since hot springs are natural, the minerals in them come from the Earth, right? So to make your own mineralized bath you gotta use herbs to try and mimic that, and those were the most popular ones I could find.”

“Cool.”

There wasn’t much to say after that, both best friends too relaxed, enjoying their shared embrace and the warmth of the water soothing away all their aches and pains as they held each other. A moment of shared vulnerability that feels both safe and nourishing.

“This was a wonderful idea,” Cross’s tone is low. It feels wrong to speak any louder than a quiet murmur, at this time. “Thanks dude.”

Epic’s eyes were closed when he answered. “Anytime, bruh. ‘S my job ta pamper ya.”

“Likewise.”

Cross continued to observe him as he laid against him. Epic was pliant beneath him. Both sockets closed and he’s quiet, apart from blissful purrs rumbling out of him that Cross matched. The soldier is pleased and all too smug at how his best friend let Cross groom him properly earlier just as Epic had done for him. And now he let him cradle him to his chest, near his Soul where it beat peacefully within his magic and out of sight.

After all, good mates take care of one another. And Epic was always so good, so kind to him. What a wonderful mate he is—

Cross laid his chin atop Epic’s skull and let his own sockets slowly drift to a close, his Soul full and happy, as he let the darkness close in. Letting himself sink below that pool of black and let himself be swallowed completely by the feelings of safety and comfort. Trusting Epic with all his Soul to keep them both safe as Cross finally let go.

When he awoke, it was to the wrong, wrong, wrong, feeling empty arms and his best friend nowhere in sight.

Cross’s voice warbles in panic, only to jolt and then promptly relaxed when he hears comforting coos and whistles and feels something warm and soft rub his back.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Cross let out an accusatory growl with narrowed sockets.

“I know, I’m sorry for leaving,” Epic consoled, gently rubbing him dry with the towel and Cross’s shoulders fall back from his hunched posture. “I wanted to get you dried off, ‘s not good to fall asleep wet. I’d just finished your back feathers when you woke up.”

Cross sniffed with a small “hmmph” but leaned into Epic’s open palm anyway and looped an arm around his waist with a small huff, noting with dissatisfaction that Epic had changed into his sleep shirt and bottoms. “Fine. Forgiven.”

“I’m glad. Now, up we go,” Cross’s sleepy gaze glanced around. His vision gradually clearing as he surveyed his surroundings. The tub had been drained and the lights dimmed. “It’s pretty late, so let’s get you to bed bud.”

“Okay.”

With wobbly legs, Cross eventually climbed out of the tub whilst holding onto Epic. Epic tapped a button on the side when they passed through the doorway and the walls shifted, closing shut behind them.

Cross climbed aboard his bed and circled around a few times. Once satiated, he folded his legs in. His mouth quirked up in the corners when he heard Epic’s quiet gush of “yuss, the sacred loaf!” He rocked forward and back, legs kneading the mattresses a few times before he settled. He twisted around and let his chest press onto the soft plumes of his back. Now that they were clean, the feeling of the soft feathers is a gentle caress that smelled like herbs and chocolate instead of smelly, scratchy pricks that scratched his face. He gazed up at Epic who sat beside him.

His best friend patted his back, tenderly rubbing a few times before he stood. “Goodnight, bud. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Epic turned around.

Protesting whines of dismay wobbled out when Cross realized Epic was trying to leave his Nest. He reached out with his claws, hooking it around Epic’s talus to stop him.

He didn’t want to be alone.

Everything was perfect, felt so right, when Epic was beside him.

“Don’t go,” Cross pleaded.

“I’ll be around, buddy.” Epic tried to placate him as he turned back to crouch in front of Cross and gently place his hands on the claw ensnaring his talus. “Y'know I don’t really sleep. I’m just gonna go check on Chara and then—”

“Please?”

Epic stopped.

“Please, sleep beside me?”

Mates Nested together.

Epic’s confliction melted away and Cross exhaled in quiet relief, grateful that his best friend would readily do anything for him if he gave the word. “…Okay,” he gently squeezed Cross’s claw. Understanding, Cross let go. “Lemme go grab my sleeping bag and,” Epic slowed when Cross pouted at him with dilated, imploring eyelights. “…You wanna cuddle me, don’t you?”

Low and slow, purrs revved right back up as Cross visibly brightened at Epic’s correct deduction. “Yes.”

Epic smiled, somewhat exasperated but not at all put out. “Okay. Lemme grab the blanket? I cleaned that too while you dozed.”

Cross nodded. With that affirmation, Epic’s violet eyelight flared, wisps of faint purple mana billowing out his socket and surrounding the large comforter to tug it off the floor and up onto Cross.

The soldier held his arm out and Epic easily slid into his embrace, circling Cross with his own arm and tucking himself against the other’s chest as the blanket covered both their shoulders.

Epic stroked Cross’s back while the other watched Epic dismiss the gravity magic and his eyes returned to normal “This good?”

“Perfect.”

Epic was in the Nest and in Cross’s arms, exactly where he belonged.

Safe and warm, Epic’s body and scent flooding his senses, Cross allowed his sockets to close once more.

“Goodnight, Cross.”

“Night, Epic.”

And fell asleep feeling cherished and loved cared for.

When Cross fell asleep Epic sighed. Moving his hand from Cross’s back and up to cradle his face, his thumb stroking the right cheekbone where Cross’s crimson scar remained.

He was worried about him. He knew recovery would be a long, slow battle, with Cross needing to heal from mental and physical trauma alike, but that didn’t mean Epic disliked that.

He wished he could’ve been there when Cross had disappeared, wished he could’ve protected him and stopped whatever had happened to him that turned him into a chimera.

If Epic had the chance to go back and switch places with Cross, he would’ve done it in a Soulbeat. Anything to keep his best friend safe and happy.

Cold, simmering rage boiled in his marrow, his dormant LV rising under his vengeful fury.

He wouldn't stop, wouldn't rest, until he found who’d done this to his friend and made them give Cross his body back. And if they couldn’t?

Epic was planning on letting them suffer long and slow, exactly like they’ve done to Cross, either way.

Cross sighed in his sleep, the adorable chirp and nuzzle he gave as he rubbed his nose indent with Epic’s washed away his rage and filled him with fond warmth instead. He nuzzled back, Soul melting when Cross smiled wide and happy from the gesture.

Later. Epic would deal with these thoughts later. Right now, he had more important things to do.

And that was letting Cross know how loved he was, when asleep or awake.

“I’ll take care of you, Cross.” Epic swore with all his heart and Soul. “For as long as you’ll let me.”

Until he was nothing but dust, this he swore.

#cross sans #epic sans #crepic #dude and bruh #epiccross #crepic fanfic #my writing #not my au #but I adore it #yall should absolutely check it out #and X’s writing #it’s all so good

19 notes · View notes