#if this inspires you to share something of your own

[mononijikayu]

triassic love song — gojo satoru.

“They were together until the very end.” you said softly, your voice carried by the gentle wind. “I hope they’re still together, wherever they are.” The tall man took a deep breath, turning his head to look at you. For a moment, his blue gaze seemed distant, as though he were seeing something—or someone—far beyond the present. But then his lips curled into a small, sad smile.  “They will be, you know?” he replied quietly, his voice deep and filled with a quiet conviction. “Some loves are strong enough to last forever. They…they transcend, even time.”

GENRE: alternate universe - reincarnation au!;

WARNING/S: edo japan era, nsfw, angst, fluff, romance, hurt/comfort, engagement, hurt, physical touch, implied character death(s), natural disaster(s), mourning, pain, grief, happy ending, depiction of natural disaster(s), depiction of suffering, depiction of character death(s), depiction of violent destruction, depiction of grief, depiction of suffering, mention of implied character death(s), mention of death(s), mention of suffering, mention of destruction, mention of earthquake-related destruction, fiance! gojo, fiance! reader, reincarnated! gojo, reincarnated! reader;

WORD COUNT: 8.6k words

NOTE: this song has ruined me beyond understanding. paris paloma, your album was just insane like im sorry. the fact that she wrote a song about the triassic cuddle inspired me to write something similar and i just??? i can't help myself. ive been so crazy about this song that i just decided, you know what. this is great. this is just something i would in fact like to bawl my eyes out writing. and i did. i did that. and i hope you cry with me and enjoy it. anyway, i love you all so much <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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IT WAS ENJOYABLE TO BE TOGETHER. IIt was forbidden to be together at this time, with the curfew in place, but you couldn’t help yourself. Not when it came to him. The world outside was still, bound by rules meant to keep order, but within the quiet sanctuary of your family estate, the constraints of the outside world seemed distant and unimportant. Inside, warmth and anticipation filled the air, thick as the lingering scent of incense that wafted through the halls. The soft glow of lanterns bathed the room in a warm light, casting shadows across the delicate shoji screens, and reflecting off the polished wooden beams and traditional tatami mats beneath you.

Gojo Satoru sat beside you, his presence magnetic as always, but tonight, something was different. His signature smirk still played at the corners of his lips, and his bright, sparkling eyes glimmered with mischief. But beneath that playfulness was an undeniable depth, a new layer of emotion that wasn’t there before—an unspoken excitement, a shared understanding that you were no longer just childhood friends.

You were now betrothed.

Bound by the ties of engagement that your noble families had arranged, it felt as though a long-awaited dream had finally come true. And though you had known each other all your lives, this new bond between you carried a weight of its own, something that made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected. The happiness you felt was undeniable, shared in the way Satoru’s hand occasionally brushed against yours, in the subtle glances that said everything words couldn’t.

“You’re quieter than usual, don't you think?" Satoru remarked with a teasing lilt, his voice soft but carrying an undercurrent of something more serious. He leaned in slightly, his gaze locking onto yours, as if daring you to speak first.

You smiled, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks under his intense scrutiny. “I could say the same about you, hm?” you replied, trying to match his teasing tone, though your voice betrayed the flurry of emotions swirling within you.

Satoru chuckled softly, leaning back on his hands, eyes never leaving yours. “Well, it’s not every day you get engaged to your best friend!” he said, his tone light, but his expression softened as his usual bravado gave way to sincerity.

That sincerity took your breath away, and for a moment, the reality of the moment hit you fully. You weren’t just sneaking out to spend time with him as you had countless times before. This was different. This was a promise, one sealed by the love you’d always shared but never fully acknowledged until now.

“I’ve been waiting for this, you know?” you admitted quietly, your eyes meeting his. “For us to be more than just... childhood friends.”

Satoru’s playful demeanor softened even more, a rare seriousness taking over his expression as he reached out to take your hand in his. His fingers were warm, and the simple gesture sent a shiver down your spine.

“Me too.” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “For a long time.”

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. The world outside was still and silent, but inside this room, the air seemed alive with the energy between you. The gravity of the situation settled in—this wasn’t just a fleeting moment. It was the beginning of something much bigger, something that both excited and terrified you.

“You always did like breaking the rules.” you teased lightly, trying to ease the tension, though your heart pounded in your chest. “Staying out past curfew, sneaking into my room like this...”

Satoru grinned, his usual confidence returning. “I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t, right?” he quipped, though the softness in his gaze lingered. “Besides, how could I stay away from you tonight? Our first night as an engaged couple... I had to be here.”

You laughed, but it was a soft, breathless sound, the kind that came when words failed to fully capture the emotions coursing through you. “I’m glad you’re here, Satoru.” you whispered.

He smiled, that warm, heart-melting smile that was reserved just for you, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else in the world mattered. Not the rules, not the expectations placed on you by your families, not even the looming responsibilities of your engagement. It was just you and him, sharing a quiet, intimate moment that you knew you would cherish forever.

“I brought something for you.” Satoru said after a brief pause, reaching into his sleeve and pulling out a small bundle of paper. “I wrote these for you.”

You blinked in surprise, watching as he carefully unfolded the papers. “Poems?”

He nodded, the tiniest hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks, something you rarely saw from him. “Yeah, don’t laugh!” he added quickly, though the look in his eyes told you he trusted you completely. “I’ve been working on them for a while...”

You took the papers from him, your fingers brushing his as you did. The sheets were neatly folded, each one carefully written in his distinct handwriting. It touched you deeply to know that he had taken the time to craft these for you, that he had poured his heart into something so personal. Something for you, with all his love.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I could never laugh, my dearest.” you said softly, your voice sincere. “Thank you, Satoru.”

"I made these for you, my beloved." he whispered, pulling out one of the carefully folded parchment from your grasp and unfolded it. "Listen to me, alright?"

His slender fingers traced the delicate paper before he began to read softly, his voice like a gentle breeze:

"Beneath the cherry bloom, I wait  

for you, a light that never fades.  

In silence, your name takes root in my soul—  

a promise written long before time."

His tender words wove into your heart, each syllable filled with the love he had always held for you, now finally given shape. You leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours, comforted by the sound of his heartbeat that matched your own excitement. The future felt certain, and the night was perfect. You kept listening to his voice, letting it guide you into the tender slumber of the night.

Satoru leaned closer to you, watching your expression, his bright blue eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and affection. Your orbs gazed at the tender strokes of his writing.

His calligraphy had always been so beautiful, but to form such words in order to capture not just the feelings he had for you, it was even more beautiful. And to have him read it with such affection, such love — for you and only you…..what could be more beautiful? What could be more perfect, more delightful?

But then, the ground beneath you shifted, a low rumble reverberating through the tatami mats. At first, it was subtle, almost imperceptible, but within seconds, the shaking intensified. It was subtle at first, a low rumble that made the lanterns flicker.

Satoru paused, his brow furrowing. Before you could ask, the ground shook violently, and the delicate house groaned under the pressure. Screams erupted from other rooms, echoing through the halls as the tremor grew stronger.

"Satoru?" you whispered, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest, not from love, but from fear.

He was already moving, his hand gripping yours tightly. “Stay with me, my beloved.” he commanded, his voice steady, though his eyes flashed with a seriousness you had never seen before. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The room shuddered violently as the earthquake hit full force, and you could hear the distant crashing of objects falling in other parts of the house. Screams erupted outside even louder—voices of your family, the servants, all caught in the chaos of the sudden disaster. And then all the sudden, it was eerily quiet. And that made your heart drop to your stomach 

For a moment, you thought that it would finally be over. But then, the earth beneath you trembled once more. You squealed as Satoru let his body encompass your own with the enveloping of his whole body on yours as the world crashed against you both. The walls were swaying left and right, the roof tiles were shattering one after another. It was chaos.

"Hold on to me. Don’t lift your eyes." he said, his voice calm but firm, even as the world quaked around you. “I’ll protect you.”

You clung to him, your heart pounding in fear as the floor shifted beneath your feet. His grip was unyielding, pulling you closer until there was no space between your bodies, shielding you from falling debris as the shaking intensified.

“I’ve got you, my beloved.” he murmured into your hair, his voice steady despite the chaos around you. “D–don’t worry.”

You feared when he stuttered, that he had gotten hurt. But he did not falter. His fingers gently stroked your back, trying to calm your trembling as the earthquake raged on. You could hear the distant crashing of porcelain and wood, your ears ringing from the harsh sounds of the destruction. But in his arms, you felt an odd sense of safety amidst the destruction. Because it was your Satoru holding you, protecting you. Because you’re together. 

As the tremors finally subsided, Satoru’s grip on you loosened slightly, but he didn’t let go. His breath was shaky, and when you looked up at him, you saw a rare flicker of fear in his usually carefree eyes. He swallowed hard before giving you a small, reassuring smile. You were still stunned, your head shaking as you tried to make sense of the world.

"Seems like the earth itself wanted to remind us of its power." he joked softly, though the tension in his voice betrayed him. He was just as afraid, perhaps even pained by some injury he would never show you. “We’re….we’re alright, my beloved. Don’t worry.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still clutching his robes as you pressed your forehead against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The night was no longer perfect, but in that moment, with Satoru holding you close, it felt like nothing could tear the two of you apart—not even the earth itself.

The earth, which had momentarily stilled, seemed to shift again beneath you, this time more violently.More catastrophic, more angry and volatile. You screamed as you held tightly to him, his body wrapping itself against you once more. The walls of your room groaned, beams creaking as the tremors returned with a vengeance, fiercer than before. The floor shook so hard you could barely keep your balance, even in Satoru's arms.

He pulled you even tighter against him, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Stay with me. Don’t let go.”

You could feel his muscles tensing beneath his robes, his usually easy going demeanor replaced by something more protective, almost desperate as his entire body forced itself to become a shield against anything against you. What remained standing of your ancestral home rattled more easily around you, dust falling from the ceiling in thick clouds. Outside, the screams grew louder, more frantic as the destruction worsened. Perhaps, it wasn’t even your family any longer. Perhaps it was the town, perhaps it was a neighboring village. You do not know anymore. And that’s what frightened you even more.

You could hear the unmistakable crash of something heavy—perhaps a roof beam—collapsing nearby. Suddenly, a deafening crack split the air. The wide, elaborate shoji doors rattled on their frames before they were blown open by the force of the quake. Your own room felt like it was being torn apart piece by piece. One of the wooden beams above groaned under the strain and, without warning, splintered and fell, hurtling toward the two of you.

Your beloved Gojo Satoru reacted in an instant, pushing you down and covering you with his body just as the beam crashed into the floor where you’d been trying to stand. The air was thick with dust, and the scent of earth and shattered wood filled your lungs, choking you. You shook as your eyes slowly opened to see your fiance pinning you down with his body shielding you.

“Satoru!” you gasped, your hands gripping the front of his robe, desperate to make sure he was unharmed.

“I’m fine, my beloved.” he muttered, though you could hear the strain in his voice. His arm was still braced above you, shielding you from any further debris. His other hand cupped the back of your head, pressing you into the crook of his neck. “We need to move. The house isn’t going to hold.”

You nodded against him, heart pounding in terror. Everything felt surreal, like a nightmare you couldn’t wake from. The childhood home that had always felt so safe, so untouchable, was crumbling around you, and the only solid thing left was Satoru. He was all you had, you think. Everything…Everything was gone. Your body was shaking. 

He pulled you to your feet, guiding you toward the door, but just as you reached it, another powerful tremor sent the ground pitching beneath you. You fell forward, and Satoru caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close as the floor buckled and cracked beneath your feet. You could feel the splintering wood beneath your sandals, the whole structure of the house breaking apart beneath the relentless force of the earthquake.

“Satoru, we need to get out—” you started, but your voice was drowned out by the sound of another beam collapsing behind you, followed by a sickening crash from outside the room.

“I know, I know.” he said, his voice tight with focus as he scanned the surroundings. "We’ll find a way out. I promise."

He led you toward the door again, but just as you stepped forward, the entire room seemed to tilt. The floor caved in with a horrific crack, and suddenly, you were falling. Satoru’s grip tightened as you both plummeted into darkness, the floorboards and debris collapsing into the space below.

“Are you hurt?” Satoru’s voice cut through the chaos, his hand cupping your face gently as he pulled you close, checking for injuries in the dim light. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the fear he usually kept hidden so well.

“I’m okay,” you gasped, though your body felt battered and sore.

He exhaled in relief, his forehead pressing against yours for a moment, his breath shaky. “We need to get out of here. Stay close to me.”

Even now, with the world collapsing around you, his determination didn’t waver. He pulled you to your feet once more, and together, you began to make your way through the rubble. The house was a maze of fallen beams, shattered walls, and debris, the once-beautiful estate reduced to ruins in a matter of minutes.

The aftershocks still rumbled beneath your feet, making every step treacherous, but Satoru kept you steady, his arm around your waist, guiding you through the wreckage. The air was thick with dust, and the distant screams of those outside continued, filling you with dread for what might await you once you escaped.

As you neared what used to be the outer courtyard, the quake hit again, this time more violent than any before. The very ground seemed to split open beneath you, and with a loud, earth-shattering roar, the outer wall of the estate gave way. You barely had time to scream before the floor cracked beneath your feet, and you fell into darkness once more.

This time, Satoru’s grip on you tightened, and you felt his body pull you against him, sheltering you as the ground gave way entirely. You hit the ground hard, the pain radiating through your body, but before you could react, you felt the warmth of Satoru’s arms around you, shielding you from the worst of it.

“Don’t leave me.” he whispered, his voice trembling as he held you tighter than ever. “I won’t let anything take you from me—not this, not anything.”

In that moment, as the world continued to crumble around you, his words were the only thing that kept you grounded. No matter what happened next, as long as you were with him, there was still hope. You clung to him, your fingers digging into the fabric of his robes, as the tremors finally began to subside, leaving the two of you alone in the wreckage, but together.

You landed hard, the wind knocked out of you as your back hit the ground. The tatami beneath you was torn, and debris scattered everywhere, yet Satoru still held onto you, his arms wrapped tightly around your body, as though his grip alone could shield you from the crumbling world. The force of his embrace had absorbed much of the fall, but the impact still left you breathless. For a moment, everything was a blur—dust and darkness clouded your vision, and the deafening roar of collapsing beams filled the air.

Your body throbbed with pain, and panic surged in your chest, but even through the chaos, the warmth of Satoru’s body against yours anchored you. His presence, solid and unyielding, kept you grounded in the midst of the chaos.

"Satoru..." you gasped, your voice barely audible, but he heard you.

“I’m here,” he whispered fiercely, his voice steady despite the tremors still shaking the earth beneath you. His breath was ragged, but his grip on you didn’t falter. His white hair, now disheveled and covered in dust, clung to his forehead, but his eyes—those impossibly blue eyes—remained focused on you. “Are you hurt?”

You tried to shake your head, but your mind was still reeling, struggling to catch up with what had just happened. The earthquake raged on, though the initial violence of it had passed. The ground trembled beneath you like a sleeping beast disturbed from its rest.

Satoru shifted, pulling you up as carefully as he could. The house around you was nearly unrecognizable—wooden beams had collapsed, shoji screens were shredded, and parts of the roof had caved in. The once peaceful and warm room where you had shared your engagement was now in ruins, littered with broken objects and torn memories.

The sound of screams echoed from outside, faint but piercing. Servants. Family. It was hard to tell who, but the urgency in their voices cut through the haze of shock that clouded your mind. Your breath caught in your throat, panic gripping you once more.

“My family... my parents.” you muttered, scrambling to get up, but Satoru stopped you, his hand on your shoulder, firm yet gentle. “Satoru—”

"Wait," he said softly, though his voice carried the weight of authority. "We need to get out of here first. It’s not safe."

He tried to keep you calm, his steady hands guiding you through the debris, but you could see the tension in his posture. He was on high alert, his senses sharp as he glanced at every unstable beam, every shifting pile of rubble. He was scanning for danger, but more than that, he was trying to protect you from seeing the worst of it—the destruction, the death.

But as you stumbled through the wreckage of what had once been your home, you couldn’t avoid the horrors that surrounded you. Bodies. Littered through the halls, some crushed beneath fallen beams, others lying still in the open. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the world spun around you.

"Satoru..." you whispered, your voice trembling as you pulled away from his protective hold. "Where are they? My parents... my siblings?"

He didn’t answer immediately, his eyes darting around, trying to keep you moving forward, away from the bodies, away from the worst of it. But you knew. The silence was louder than any scream. You could feel tears fall from your face and that broke his heart to see.

"Satoru!" you cried, your voice breaking as your legs buckled beneath you. "Where are they?"

He knelt beside you, his hands cupping your face as he gently forced you to look at him. His bright blue eyes were filled with an overwhelming sadness, but he tried to hide it, to be strong for you. He had to be strong. He had to. He can’t be weak, not right now.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But we have to go. We need to find shelter. I’ll take you to my family home. They’ll know what to do.”

You nodded, though the words didn’t fully sink in. Your body was moving on autopilot now, your mind numb to the world as Satoru pulled you back to your feet. With every step, the destruction around you became more apparent, more real. The walls were crumbling, the air thick with dust and smoke, and the scent of burning wood filled your nostrils.

Together, you navigated the ruins of your estate, stepping over debris and through the remains of lives that had been lost in the quake. GojoSatoru kept a firm grip on your hand, leading you with a determination that seemed almost impossible given the circumstances.

But even he couldn’t hide the way his shoulders tensed, the way his jaw clenched when another body appeared in your path, forcing him to shield you from the sight.

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IT WAS A CHALLENGE, TO GO AND LEAVE THE DESTRUCTION BEHIND. The sky deepened into a somber shade of dusk as you and Satoru finally reached the estate’s edge. The once proud gates, symbols of security and honor, now stood twisted and mangled, crumpled by the sheer force of nature’s wrath.

Beyond the gates, the town stretched out in a nightmare of ruin—buildings reduced to heaps of rubble, streets fractured and littered with debris, and the air thick with the lingering scent of smoke and dust. The cries of the wounded and the wails of those searching for lost loved ones echoed through the broken streets, a chorus of despair that filled the silence left in the wake of destruction.

“Keep your head high,” Satoru urged, his voice low but firm as he tightened his grip on your hand. “Don’t look. Just… don’t.”

But it was impossible not to look. How could you not see the devastation, shared by all? Every corner of the town had been touched by this catastrophe, and every person who remained alive carried the weight of loss. It was a destruction understood by all, but none more deeply than you at that moment.

The memory of your home—once filled with laughter, warmth, and the presence of family—now lay in ruins. Your parents, your siblings… their fates were unknown, swallowed by the chaos. You hadn’t seen them, and the hope of finding them alive was growing fainter with every passing moment. Satoru’s words rang hollow in your ears, even as you clung to his hand for strength.

He guided you through the crumbling streets with a fierce determination, always positioning himself between you and the worst of the wreckage. The buildings, once grand and vibrant, had become tombs of stone and wood, each step revealing more of the town’s shattered soul. Bodies lay strewn across the ground, some half-buried in rubble, others left untouched by the debris but claimed by the quake nonetheless. It was too much, too overwhelming.

Every time you stumbled, your legs trembling with fatigue and grief, Satoru was there, catching you before you could fall. His presence was like an anchor, keeping you steady amid the storm of devastation that swirled around you. His hand never left yours, his touch a silent promise that you weren’t alone in this. You didn’t have to face it all by yourself.

The survivors—those who had managed to escape the collapse of buildings or who had emerged from the wreckage—followed behind you, a somber procession of hollow eyes and ashen faces. Their steps were slow, heavy with the weight of shock. No words passed between them, no cries for help—only silence and the occasional sob as they moved like ghosts through the streets, trying to find some semblance of safety, of life, in this broken world.

Your heart ached for them, for their pain, but your own grief consumed you. The memory of your family’s voices, the warmth of your home, felt so distant now, like a dream you had just woken from. And yet, with each step you took beside Satoru, you realized that this nightmare was real, and there was no waking from it.

The earth beneath your feet still trembled occasionally, aftershocks reminding you that the worst might not yet be over. Each tremor sent a fresh wave of fear through your body, your grip tightening around Satoru’s hand. He responded in kind, his hand strong and reassuring, though you could sense the turmoil roiling beneath his calm exterior. His family, too, was somewhere in this mess. Their fate hung in the balance just as much as yours.

As you made your way through the gates, leaving behind the wreckage of your estate, you couldn’t help but glance back one final time. The place where you had grown up, where you had shared laughter, joy, and the news of your engagement just hours ago, was now unrecognizable. In the span of mere moments, everything you had known had been reduced to rubble, leaving behind only echoes of the life you had once cherished.

“Satoru…” your voice cracked as you spoke his name, the words barely audible over the distant cries. He stopped, turning to look at you, his eyes softening with concern.

“I know,” he whispered, his hand brushing against your cheek, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall unnoticed. “I know it’s hard. But we’ll make it through this. We have to.”

His resolve was unshakable, but you could see the grief hidden behind his determination. He was trying to be strong, not just for himself, but for you. His family’s estate lay ahead, yet you both feared what you would find when you arrived.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the land in shadow, you continued onward, the fire of Satoru’s presence the only thing keeping you from sinking into despair. The path was treacherous, littered with fallen beams and shattered stone, but Satoru led the way with careful, deliberate steps. He kept you close, his arm around your waist now, guiding you over the broken streets as you navigated what felt like the remains of the world.

Every glance revealed more heartache—broken homes, toppled lanterns, and the pale, lifeless faces of those who hadn’t made it. But Satoru never let you linger, gently urging you forward each time your gaze began to drift toward the horror around you.

Finally, you reached his family’s estate. Or what remained of it. The grand structure that had once stood proud and formidable was now a heap of collapsed roofs and shattered walls. The once beautiful garden, where you had shared many moments of happiness, was now a twisted, chaotic mess of uprooted trees and scorched earth.

Satoru stood still for a moment, his eyes scanning the destruction with a silent, composed fury. The pain was etched into his expression, though he quickly masked it as he turned to you, his voice low but firm.

"We’ll make it through tonight," he said. "We have to survive, no matter what."

In that moment, even as the world crumbled around you, there was no fear in his eyes—only determination. For now, all you could do was follow him. Follow him through the darkness, trusting that somewhere, beyond the destruction, hope still lingered. 

As you finally reached the outskirts of the Gojo estate, the enormity of the destruction hit you again. The town below had not been spared either. Smoke rose in the distance, and the ground was littered with rubble, buildings half-collapsed, and people wandering aimlessly, searching for loved ones.

Satoru didn’t hesitate. He pulled you forward, his grip never loosening as he led you through the streets toward his family’s home. But when you arrived, the sight that greeted you was even more devastating.

His family estate, much like your own, had been reduced to little more than a broken shell. The grand gates had collapsed, and the once beautiful gardens were torn apart, now little more than mounds of earth and stone. The house itself had fared no better, with parts of the roof caved in and walls shattered.

Satoru’s face paled as he took it all in, his hand tightening around yours in a desperate attempt to remain calm. But you could see it in his eyes—the grief, the disbelief. This was his home. His family. And now, it is gone.

For a long moment, he stood still, his gaze fixed on the destruction before him. His breathing was shallow, his grip on your hand tightening almost painfully. But then, with a sharp breath, he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

As you both began your journey toward the Gojo family estate, the weight of the day settled heavily on your shoulders. But Satoru’s hand never let go of yours, a silent promise that even in the face of unimaginable loss, you would survive this—together.

When you and Satoru finally reached the outskirts of his family estate, the sinking feeling in your chest returned with full force. What should have been a place of refuge, a sanctuary from the horrors you had just fled, was nothing but devastation. The Gojo estate, once majestic and proud, had fallen to the same fate as your home.

The gates were twisted and mangled, barely hanging from their hinges, and the walls that had once stood tall now lay in heaps of rubble. Smoke rose from what remained of the manor, a bitter scent of burning wood and stone hanging in the air. The destruction was so complete, so absolute, that it felt like the very earth had swallowed everything whole. The silence was deafening.

Gojo Satoru froze at the sight, his grip on your hand tightening until it almost hurt. You looked up at him, but his expression was unreadable, his usual brightness dulled to a vacant stare. His family, his home....everything he had known, everything he had grown up with. All was gone. Nothing was left but the earth where it all once stood.

You tried to say something, to offer words of comfort, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak. More tears could only pour out of your eyes from then on. All you could do was squeeze his hand, hoping he would feel your silent support. He didn't need to hear your words right now; he just needed to know you were there.

For a moment, he stood motionless, his blue eyes scanning the destruction as if trying to comprehend it, trying to find any sign of life among the wreckage. But there was nothing. Just like at your estate, the earthquake had consumed everything.

Finally, Satoru exhaled a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. But even in his grief, he didn’t break. He couldn’t—not with you depending on him. He glanced down at you, his eyes softening with a kind of sadness you had never seen in him before. 

Satoru stopped for a moment, turning to you with a look of determination in his eyes. “We’ll make it through this,” he promised, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed the fear he was trying so hard to hide. “We’ll get some place safe here, and I’ll make sure nothing ever hurts you again. You hear me?”

You nodded, though the world felt unsteady beneath you. The future that once seemed so bright, the engagement that had filled your heart with hope, now felt overshadowed by the tragedy that had befallen your lives. Still, with Satoru’s hand wrapped securely around yours, you knew one thing for certain—no matter what came next, you wouldn’t face it alone.

“We need to stay warm tonight.” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not safe to wander around in the dark. We’ll make a fire here, and then tomorrow, we’ll figure out what to do.”

He led you to a relatively clear patch of ground, away from the worst of the rubble. The sky was darkening, and the air had grown cold, a biting wind cutting through your torn clothes. Satoru quickly set to work, gathering what dry wood he could find, his movements steady and focused despite the grief that must have been tearing him apart inside.

You watched him in silence, too exhausted to help, too numb from everything that had happened. When the fire finally sparked to life, its warmth was a welcome reprieve from the cold that had settled deep into your bones. You sat beside him, huddled close to the flickering flames, the only source of light in the endless night.

Your Satoru didn’t speak for a long time. He simply stared into the fire, his expression distant, lost in thoughts you couldn’t fathom. His hands, usually so relaxed and playful, were tense, gripping his knees as if he were holding himself together by sheer force of will.

But then he turned to you, his gaze softening when he saw the exhaustion written on your face. Without a word, he pulled his outer robe from his shoulders and wrapped it around you, tucking it gently against your chin. He tried to do it, smiling like nothing happened. As though to comfort you even in all this suffering. And yet, you could see it all in his eyes. He was exhausted, he was in pain. And he didn’t know what to do.

“Sleep, my beloved.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll keep watch.”

You wanted to protest, to tell him that he needed rest just as much as you did, but your body betrayed you. The exhaustion, the grief, the sheer weight of everything you had been through—it was too much. You nodded weakly, laying your head against his shoulder as you curled into the warmth of the robe.

Satoru shifted slightly, easing you into a more comfortable position so you could lie down near the fire. His hand rested on your arm, a protective gesture that reminded you of his earlier promise. Even as the world fell apart around you, Satoru Gojo was still there, watching over you.

As you drifted off to sleep, lulled by the crackling of the fire and the steady rise and fall of his breathing, Satoru leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. His lips lingered there for a moment, as if he were afraid to pull away, afraid that something might take you from him if he let go.

“I’ll keep you safe, my beloved.” he whispered against your hair, his voice trembling with the weight of his vow. “No matter what happens. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

The fire flickered, casting shadows across his face, but his resolve was unshakable. He couldn’t save everything—his home, his family—but he would save you. That much, he was certain of.

As you slept, Gojo Satoru remained awake, his eyes scanning the horizon, alert for any sign of danger. The devastation around him was complete, but his focus never wavered from you. You were his world now, the one thing he had left in the midst of the ruin.

The night stretched on, cold and unforgiving, but Satoru didn’t move from his spot by your side. Even as the grief gnawed at him, even as the weight of everything he had lost threatened to crush him, he stayed strong. For you. Because no matter what came next, no matter how uncertain the future had become, Gojo Satoru had made a promise—and he would keep it.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

THE YEAR 2018 WAS AN INTERESTING YEAR FOR DISCOVERIES. You remember reading about it in the newspaper on your way to university—the discovery of two lovers found in an eternal embrace, huddled together in a shoreline cave, their bodies preserved for three hundred years by the elements that had claimed their lives. 

The volcanic eruption, the earthquake, and the tsunami that had ravaged Japan centuries ago were some of the worst disasters the country had ever known, obliterating entire villages and swallowing countless lives in an instant. And yet, even in the face of such unimaginable destruction, these two had remained together, their bond undisturbed by the passage of time.

Standing quietly in front of the memorial, you felt the weight of their story settle around you. The air was still and somber, carrying with it the distant hum of waves crashing along the shore. The stone monument before you was simple yet profound—a silent marker of the love these two souls had shared, a love that had endured in the most unimaginable of circumstances. Their bodies had been found in the ruins of a household long buried by the mud and debris, a household much like the ones surrounding this coastline, now reduced to scattered memories.

You had followed the story from the beginning—the day the archaeologists uncovered them from the earth, the painstaking care they took in revealing the remains. The headlines had drawn attention, not because of the tragedy alone, but because of the story those two bodies told.

There were no names. No clues as to who they had been, what their lives had looked like before the disaster struck, or even how they had ended up in each other’s arms when the end came. But it didn’t matter. Their identities weren’t needed to understand the significance of what had been found. What mattered was that they had faced their final moments without fear. They had faced the end together, with love.

It was that thought—the resilience of love in the face of overwhelming disaster—that had touched you most deeply. In a world where so much is fragile and fleeting, the strength of their connection had remained, even after centuries had passed. It was as if their love had transcended the destruction, as if they had chosen to defy the disaster by holding on to one another in their last breath.

You stepped forward, placing your hands together in silent prayer. You wished them peace, a kind of peace that transcended the tragedy of their death, that honored the love they had shared.

You prayed that their spirits had found rest, and that wherever they were now, they were still together, watching over the place where they had once stood. The offering you placed at the memorial was simple, a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, symbolizing purity and remembrance.

"I pray that you'll always be together, the two of you." you murmured, your voice soft, barely louder than the breeze that rustled through the trees around the monument. "Wherever you are, I hope you’ve found peace, and that your love is still as strong as it was in those last moments."

You stayed there for a while, the silence of the memorial surrounding you, offering its quiet comfort. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the scene, a contrast to the deep sense of loss the place carried. But you didn’t feel sadness. Instead, there was something almost beautiful about it—knowing that even in the face of disaster, these two had been together, and their love had transcended time. As you prepared to leave, footsteps approached from behind. You turned slightly, curious to see who else had come to visit this quiet, forgotten place.

A man with striking white hair and bright blue eyes under the rim of his glasses stood at the edge of the memorial, his head bowed in silent prayer. He was tall, his presence commanding even though he moved with a quiet grace. His features were sharp, but softened by a kind of deep, unspoken sorrow. He knelt down beside the monument, laying a single white flower on the stone, his fingers brushing the surface with reverence.

You watched him for a moment, feeling an inexplicable sense of familiarity, though you couldn’t quite place it. The way he stood there—tall and composed, with an air of quiet reverence that just seemed to draw you in.

There was something almost ethereal about him, as if he was intrinsically linked to the story of the lovers you had come to honor. The connection felt deeper than mere coincidence, as though his presence was a significant part of the narrative that had touched you so profoundly.

His white hair glowed softly in the fading light, and his posture was relaxed yet dignified, embodying a calmness that contrasted sharply with the turmoil you had felt as you reflected on the lovers’ fate.

His eyes were closed in prayer, his face serene, as if he was offering a deeply personal tribute to the souls who had been found together in their final moments. The sense of connection was so strong that you could almost feel it emanating from him, a silent bridge spanning the centuries between his presence and the lovers' tragic end.

You hesitated, not wanting to intrude on his moment of solitude. Yet, there was something compelling about the situation—an unspoken invitation to acknowledge the shared significance of this place and the story that bound them all together. Your curiosity and empathy drove you to speak, despite the quietude that hung between you.

“Excuse me.” you began softly, breaking the stillness of the memorial. Your voice was gentle, barely a whisper against the backdrop of the crashing waves. “I couldn’t help but notice… There's something about you that feels so familiar, so connected to this place. I… I’ve been deeply moved by the story of the lovers found here, and I can’t shake the feeling that you share a connection with them.”

The man turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of surprise and understanding. He seemed to consider your words for a moment, his expression thoughtful and measured. There was a softness in his gaze, as if he had been waiting for this moment, this conversation, even if he didn’t quite know why.

“Oh.” Gojo Satoru whispered back, his cheeks tinged with a flush of surprise, as if your words had caught him off guard. He seemed momentarily at a loss, his usual confidence replaced with a bashful vulnerability. “Yeah, I… I saw the news, and I thought, I just had to come. It felt… it just felt right, you know? To come here and see them off, to wish them well.”

There was a sincerity in his voice, a raw honesty that struck a chord. You could see that this wasn’t just a casual visit for him; it was something deeply personal, a moment of reflection and respect that went beyond mere curiosity.

“I see…” you mumbled, your gaze softening as you looked at him. A smile slowly spread across your face, touched by his heartfelt gesture. “That’s kind of you to do.”

Gojo Satoru shook his head slightly, a rueful smile on his lips. “Ah, not… not really,” he said with a sigh, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “If anything, I think you were more kind. You brought them white chrysanthemums and everything. You probably had more of a proper prayer for them than I did.”

You waved off his comment with a small laugh, the sound light and airy in the quiet of the memorial. “Oh, not at all. I think… I think your intention was purer than mine. You came here just on a feeling, an instinct that something was right about being here. I was… I was interested historically before I was here emotionally, you know?”

His eyes met yours, a flicker of understanding passing between you. “I guess we both had our reasons,” he said softly. “But in the end, it’s the connection that matters. Whether we came here out of personal feelings or historical interest, it’s our respect and acknowledgement that count.”

You nodded, feeling a shared sense of purpose in your conversation. There was something profoundly meaningful about how your paths had crossed at this place, driven by a mutual respect for the story of the lovers and a desire to honor their memory. The distinction between your reasons for being here seemed to dissolve in the face of a greater truth—that both of you were here because of a deep-seated respect and a wish to pay tribute to the enduring power of love.

“So……” Gojo continued, a slight smile returning to his lips, ���I’m glad we met here. It feels like the right place for this kind of encounter, don’t you think?”

You agreed, feeling a warmth in his words. “Yes, it does. It’s like the universe brought us together in this moment to remind us of something important.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, something like that. It’s nice to know that even after so much time, and despite all the changes and challenges we face, there are still moments that can bring people together in such a profound way.”

You stood together in silence for a moment, the weight of your shared understanding settling around you. The memorial continued to stand as homage to the lovers’ eternal bond, and in that quiet, sacred space, you felt a connection that transcended all the limits given by the bountiful universe.

“They were together until the very end.” you said softly, your voice carried by the gentle wind. “I hope they’re still together, wherever they are.”

The tall man took a deep breath, turning his head to look at you. For a moment, his blue gaze seemed distant, as though he were seeing something—or someone—far beyond the present. But then his lips curled into a small, sad smile. 

“They will be, you know?” he replied quietly, his voice deep and filled with a quiet conviction. “Some loves are strong enough to last forever. They…they transcend, even time.”

There was something in his tone, a weight to his words, that made you wonder if he was speaking from experience. You gave him a respectful nod, choosing not to pry into the emotions that seemed to flicker beneath his calm exterior.

The two of you stood there in silence for a while longer, both paying your respects to the nameless lovers who had defied death with their love. The sun continued to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the memorial. Finally, the man rose to his feet, brushing the dust from his clothes before turning to you.

“Take care, stranger.” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that contrasted with the sorrow that had lingered moments before. Then, with one last look at the monument, he began to walk away, his white hair catching the fading light like a beacon.

As you watched him go, something tugged at your heart. You didn’t know who he was, but in that moment, you felt as though you had shared something important with him—an unspoken understanding of love and loss, of holding on to someone even when the world falls apart around you. 

Somehow, there was something stirring within you—a feeling that you couldn’t let him just walk away, not without knowing more. There was something about him, an invisible thread connecting you, as if fate had brought you both to this quiet place for a reason.

"Wait! Hey, mister!" you called out softly, taking a few steps toward him. The man paused, turning back to face you, his expression curious but calm.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. But then, with a gentle smile, you extended your hand. "I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself. My name is……"

He looked at you for a moment, as if weighing whether to reciprocate. Then, with a small, almost teasing smile, he took your hand in his. His grip was warm, steady, and comforting in a way that felt strangely familiar.

"I'm Gojo Satoru." he said, his voice smooth, yet laced with something deeper, as if his name carried a history he didn’t fully reveal.

The name hung in the air between you, and for a brief moment, you felt a flicker of recognition. But it was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had come. You smiled politely, though something about the way he said it, the way his gaze softened as he looked at you, made you feel like there was more to his introduction than simple formality.

"It's nice to meet you, Satoru." you replied, feeling a strange sense of ease as you spoke his name. There was something about the way it rolled off your tongue, as if you'd said it a thousand times before.

He tilted his head slightly, his sharp, crystal-blue eyes studying you with an intensity that was both disarming and oddly reassuring. It was as if he could see beneath the surface, understanding more than what was immediately apparent. Yet, instead of feeling exposed, you felt a sense of comfort, a silent acknowledgment that he grasped the depths of your emotions and thoughts.

With a gentle, almost shy smile, Gojo Satoru reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, extending it toward you. “Put your number in,” he said, his voice tender and inviting. “I think… I think you know more about this story than I do. I’d like to know more, if you’re willing to share.”

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the request, but the sincerity in his voice and the warmth of his smile compelled you to act. With a nod, you took his phone from him and began to enter your contact information, a small flutter of excitement rising in your chest. There was something intriguing about the prospect of continuing this conversation, of sharing more about the story that had brought you both here.

When you handed his phone back to him, a playful grin appeared on your face. “It’s your turn,” you said, taking out your own phone and extending it toward him.

Gojo Satoru chuckled softly, his eyes lighting up with amusement as he looked at your phone. “Well, alright.” he said, taking it with a mock sigh of resignation. “If you insist.”

As he entered his number into your phone, the atmosphere between you shifted from one of solemn reflection to one of friendly connection. The small act of exchanging numbers felt like a bridge, linking your shared experience at the memorial with the potential for future conversations and deeper understanding. Maybe, just maybe — you’ll understand life the way these two in front of you did. Just maybe.

When he handed your phone back to you, he looked at you with a genuine smile. “Thanks for sharing this moment with me. It’s been… meaningful. I’m glad we crossed paths today.”

You smiled back, feeling a warmth in your chest that came from more than just the shared experience. “I’m glad too. It’s not every day you meet someone who understands the significance of something like this so deeply.”

Finally, Satoru spoke again, his tone lightening slightly. "Well, I should be going. The train is leaving soon. But... It was nice meeting you." He paused, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "Maybe we’ll see each other again."

You smiled, feeling the same unspoken connection. "I’d like that."

With one last look at the memorial, Satoru turned and began to walk away, his white hair catching the fading light of the day. You watched him go, a strange sense of calm settling over you.

As you stood there, the weight of the lovers' story still fresh in your heart, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the last time you would see Gojo Satoru. Something told you that your paths would cross again, in ways you couldn’t yet predict.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the memorial, you whispered one final prayer—not just for the nameless lovers, but for yourself, and perhaps for Satoru too.

"May we all find each other, in every lifetime."

[luna-azzurra]

How to Make the Ultimate Playlist for Your Novel 🎧✨

Writing a novel is all about vibes, and what better way to get in the zone than by crafting a playlist that captures every moment, every emotion, and every heart-flipping scene? Whether you’re in the middle of writing or just dreaming about your characters, having a playlist can seriously bring your story to life.

Figure Out the Mood of Your Novel 🎶

Every novel has an overall mood - you know, that feeling that sticks with you after reading a chapter. Is your book sweet and romantic, or is it packed with suspense and action? Maybe it’s nostalgic and bittersweet. Whatever the mood is, your playlist should reflect that.

Imagine if your book was a movie, what kind of songs would play during the opening scene? Is it more of a soft, acoustic vibe with someone staring out of a rainy window? Or is it blasting pop-punk as your characters road-trip down the highway?

Pro Tip, Pick a theme song for your novel. This is the one track that feels like it could be the heart of your book. Every time you hear it, you’ll be transported straight into your world. 🎧✨

Find Songs for Your Main Characters 💖

Let’s be real, every character deserves their own theme song. You know your characters better than anyone, what would their personal soundtrack be? Is your main character a hopeless romantic who blasts Taylor Swift on repeat? Or are they more of an, Billie Eilish (Ps:I Love Billie) kind of person? Find songs that capture their personality, their struggles, and their growth throughout the novel.

Character A (The Dreamer): Their playlist is full of soft, dreamy ballads like “Falling Slowly” by Glen Hansard. Character B (The Brooding Love Interest): They’d totally vibe with something like “Sweater Weather” by The Neighbourhood

Match Songs to Key Scenes 🎬

Think about it, When your characters finally have that emotional, heart-wrenching argument, what song plays in the background of your mind? When they share their first kiss, is it something soft and sweet, or fiery and passionate? The right song can totally enhance the mood of your scenes, even if you’re just listening while you write.

Big Fight Scene? Go for something intense, like “Control” by Halsey.

The Breakup Scene? You can’t go wrong with a tear-jerker like “Drivers License” by Olivia Rodrigo.

Add Your Personal Favorites 🎧

This playlist is your baby, so don’t forget to throw in some of your personal faves. If a song speaks to you, even if it doesn’t seem to fit perfectly at first glance, add it anyway. Sometimes, the most random songs end up being the ones that make the most sense as you write. Plus, having your favorite songs on the playlist will keep you inspired and motivated to dive into your story.

Don’t feel pressured to make the “perfect” playlist from the start. It’s a process. You’ll probably discover new songs that fit your novel as you go, and that’s totally fine.

[ghostykapi]

three against me (the trio's love)

misamo & fem!reader // college au

thank you for @cry4mina for the misamo pictures and for being delulu with me about misamo <3 MISAMOOO

when you said you wanted your college life to be eventful

you didn't expect the universe throwing you three girlfriends, each with their own side of how they got you locked with them

it starts during the first semester of your 3rd year, when you were in a small cafe, getting to a headstart in your pile of homework

it's perfect, a iced coffee by your side, three readings beside you, your laptop on the coffee table in front of you and phone silenced, muting whatever the onslaught of messages nayeon is sending that you can't even be bothered to check

you needed this, you couldn't handled anymore 'dubchaeng babysitting!' when the duo would just make your head hurt with the amount of crazy ideas they had. the change of pace for the day is much welcome, especially knowing that jeongyeon took over with the lure of seeing a band a cafe next university over

it's nice, you can feel like you are in control for even just for a bit

then the cafe's noise dies down when the door chimes

it's too silent

fuck.

you brace yourself at the trio, who’s presence can make the entire student populous go on their knees. the mere whisper of their little group brings the entire college either trembling

misamo.

you can feel her gaze land on you, despite the only indication that it is one of them without looking is the whispers within the cafe. even the baristas know them

hirai momo. softball player, the star athlete that brings medals and more recognition to your university. average grades, stellar performance when she steps on the field and can land a nasty punch

with each step you hear her take, the more you have to remind yourself not to look. you can hear her giggles and the way your heartbeat is now in your ears

minatozaki sana. influencer and model, the unspoken leader of their group. through her bubbly and charming personality, she uses her wit to become the face of the university. part of the top 10% of the whole university, the inspiration to study hard and diligently

you feel a hand on your shoulder, the firm grasp rendering you unable to move, yet it's how you know who it is. she hums in delight at your sharp intake of breath, knowing that you don't need anything else to tell her apart

myoui mina. rising entrepreneur of 3 different business ventures, the deadliest one from the trio. always calculating, always 10 steps ahead of her peers and competitors. sweet, kind, and demur, she brings class to whatever she does

that includes sitting beside you, her bag gently landing on the table, your proximity leaves the others questioning your relationship, but all you know is that you must have done something at your shared class with her yesterday for her too approach you

"i hope you don't mind" she starts, eyes confident and you want to scream and cry because she's wearing a suit. typically worn when she's fresh from visiting one of her businesses. "i heard you were well versed in code"

"programming is my major yes" you keep your voice leveled, after all, being a woman in such a male dominated course has made you what your flock of admirers say, freezingly cold.

"i have a proposition for you" mina starts, keeping a dangerous game of who can keep the eye contact going "you help me with homeworks and projects while i give you money per assessment made"

while mina has a fair share of students that matched her energy, something in your gaze makes her crack a bit

"what makes you think i'll say yes?"

"you can't say no to me"

"yes i can. here watch i'll say it"

and mina can't deny it when she feels her heart start to race when you get closer to her. faces barely a few inches apart

"i don't do things for money. so no"

and you pull back, ready to put back to attention to your homework when mina speaks up

"every time you have to help me i'll pay you in food"

oh goodness free food

"ok i'm in" you hum, hands typing away on your laptop "we start in two days, send me an address and i'll met you there myoui. now shoo, i have to catch up to my work"

she stares at you with a blank gaze, but inside she's dumbfounded at your boldness

nevertheless, she stands up to leave you be, but before she's out of earshot, she says something you don't quite catch

"what?" you ask

"you should call me mina. myoui is too professional even for my taste dear"

three days later, it's momo who bugs you after your morning class

she slips up right beside you, the lack of dress code in the university gives momo a chance to wear a body hugging pink dress, something that makes everyone go crazy. what you don't like is how every guy is looking at her in ways you want to pluck their eyes out

filthy bastards don't deserve to gaze at her at all

"momo" your ears are red because everyone can clearly see you both in the halls, her arm around your waist as you slowly walk to the next building for your next class "what are you doing?"

"accompanying you to class" momo won't admit it, but ever since mina said you were, in her words, 'pretty and sufficient', she had to see you

"why?" you ask, glaring at every man who's looking at her too creepily, making them scurry away

"just because, plus our classrooms are right beside each other" she relaxes more with each less man in the hall, you notice it

"fine" you huff, and before she can even say anything else, you remove your jacket, giving it to her "wear this for today, i don't want any man to look at you. you're too gorgeous for them"

the rest of the walk is silent on the way to both of your classrooms. only thing you can hear is the squeak of every sneaker from each man running way and the whispers in between students

it's the most peaceful walk momo has had since becoming star athlete

so when you wave at her from the door before disappearing to go to the classroom beside her's, she feels like she can breath without panicking

she hates taking anything math related, but she might bare it more when she knows your beside her classroom

she's hooked

later that afternoon, while you lounge around the student council office sipping a red bull, someone barges in, scaring your team who's having a heated debate on who should the rest of the papers

"fucking jesus who the fuck-" ryujin is silenced from who she sees at the door

minatozaki sana, the ever persistent and one of the most notable member under the team of the president.

"someone sent you flowers?"

not a question you were expecting, even your team is gawking at her

dressed to perfection, you can't catch her in a regular outfit at any point, which is kind of ridiculous. sana doesn't care, always styled like she's going to a fashion week in europe. today she's wearing that white dress that she just wore in her feature in some magazine

what is it with the trio and wearing designer clothing every time they are at university grounds? specifically when they are within your eyesight

"pardon?" you know the amount of admires that still try despite cold rejection, even hailing from different courses. hell you think someone from the university over sent you chocolates once, you gave it to your team though

"did you accept some stupid boy's flowers?" sana repeats, anger in her eyes, an emotion she barely shows, and possessiveness in her body language, something you see glimpses of when someone gets close to mina and momo that she doesn't approve of

"minatozaki you know i don't do that" you say calmly, your team in awe at how you keep a calm attitude "if the suitor doesn't have the guts to face me, then they do not deserve my limited time"

"then you'll entertain if i do right?"

you can hear felix and lily choke over their pizza behind you

"you are not serious" you look at her like she's crazy (she loves being called that, you learn from mina later on)

she gets closer to you, faces barely an inch apart, any slip up from her leaning way to closer over your table and she can just kiss you

"try me, i'll see you at tomorrow's meeting miss vice-president"

when she leaves the office, it takes you and your team a total of 5 minutes to recover

"jesus what the fuck was that"

"ryujin shut up, go back to bickering with lia"

no one has ever said no to the trio

maybe a few people had

they're just not as pretty, charming and confident as you

maybe that's why mina keeps sitting beside you during your shared programming class even oustide 'tutor' hours, why momo's insistent at being beside you in between periods to carry your items on days your classes line up, and why sana shows up in every weekly meeting with an expensive gift or a trinket, challenging each suitor head on.

women like them are gonna be the death of you

"you have some crazy women that like you" jihyo jests beside you, giggling at how sana is glaring daggers at how close you both are. you both are now taking a break along with the rest of the internal team to finalize some papers

"yeah well" you don't like to admit it, but ever since their persistence to always either be near you, you have been starting to crack bit by bit "can't really escape them y'know"

"i think you would look cute with them" jihyo hums, swinging her pen between her fingers, making someone across the table keep her stare at the president "misamo and their girlfriend who sucks ass at karaoke"

"ok that was one time" you huff, jihyo's snickering makes sana look up from her phone, jaw tensing up at how close jihyo is "clearly i let you win because you liked it when tzuyu said she's treat you out if you win right?"

that shuts her up. the said tall woman is at the other side of the room, watching the president's face get red, wondering what you just said to make her like this

"get back to work" jihyo then shoos you away, your laughter making jihyo flip you off before returning to work for herself

before you cam even return to work, your eyes meet sana's, her expression unreadable. you wonder what she's thinking of

you look away, a light blush on your cheeks from her intense stare, busying yourself once more with the papers

to sana, witnessing your smile and laughter rewires her brain, heart pleading with her to speed up whatever this stage the three of them are in. each day that passes drives the three of them crazy

mina is messing up in her calculations, momo is missing her shots and sana is losing her composure on the daily

she needs you. they need you.

when sana heads home that night she keeps thinking about you. even when she lets her girlfriends debate what their late night dinner should be (mina wants tacos, momo is craving for some pasta). she blurts out in the middle of it

"do you think y/n would say yes if we offered her sushi as a late night dinner?"

the two stop at their bickering to look at sana, who's eyes are begging for the next move. she's getting itchy and desperate to make it

"satang" mina reaches out to her, letting sana wrap her arms around her waist as momo hugs them both "did something happen?"

"it's just" sana doesn't even try to hide it at this point, knowing that the three of them are nearing their breaking point "i saw her laugh today and it really made me think that 'i want to make her laugh with us' and i-i don't know but it has been driving me mad"

mina hums in understanding and momo speaks up, ready to take that push

"then let's go"

staying late even after meetings is normal for you to catch up with the papers, but for the past few days, you have been staying late in the office to busy your thoughts

mina hasn't been looking at you in the eye or been acknowledging you

momo hasn't been accompanying you to class

sana hasn't shown up to a single meeting this past two weeks

trying to silence your head, you decided to throw yourself into your extra curriculars every night. this night, you are working alone, the only sounds that you can hear are your aggressive typing on your poor keyboard, the music coming from your small speaker and the voices in your head making your heart ache

and now a knock and the door swinging open

"if you have any concerns please drop them by our social media accounts, email, or even the drop box by the-"

you stop your next words when you look up

mina.

you want to curse at the woman, for deliberately avoiding you. it was worse with her, because at least with the two you didn't have the urge to scream because they simply did not show up.

momo.

even clad in that handsome suit, she's still wearing that jacket you handed over to her. devastatingly handsome and gorgeous, you wonder why did she have to leave you wondering in the noisy university halls

sana.

meetings are still the same, but jihyo keeps on asking why your eyes have been straying, always going back to the door. waiting for that laugh to annoy you, waiting for a snarky remark to any stupid men flirting with you, waiting for anything from her

you really want to throw a chair at them for just showing up now and pissing you off

you don't though, because you missed them

each in their own suit, each with their own gift, each one with a nervous smile that no one will ever see, each one wearing their hearts up their sleeves, and each with the same question you didn't know you wanted to hear until now

"we like you. would you like to go out with us? dinner tomorrow night, our treat"

you can't say no

"you guys are horrible at courting. pick me up at 7"

bonus:

in every first date you've been on, you never come over to your dates home. that changes and ends with them

"hirai" you're trying to keep your breath stable as her hands are playing your hair. eyes hazy, but clearly on you, her self control out the door, just like yours

"myoui" she's behind you, her hands on your waist, murmuring what she's been thinking about for the past days. it's all you, and it makes you melt

"minatozaki" you let her kiss you, silencing your worries and doubts, silencing anything that makes you question them. the heart finally getting what it wants

"you my love, deserve to be ours"

[mrs-stans]

Sebastian Stan Tells All: Becoming Donald Trump, Gaining 15 Pounds and Starring in 2024’s Most Controversial Movie

By Daniel D'Addario

Sebastian Stan Variety Cover Story

It started with the most famous voice on the planet, the one that just won’t shut up.

Sebastian Stan, in real life, sounds very little like Donald Trump, whom he’s playing in the new film “The Apprentice.” Sure, they share a tristate accent — Stan has lived in the city for years and attended Rutgers University before launching his career — but he speaks with none of Trump’s emphasis on his own greatness. Trump dwells, Stan skitters. Trump attempts to draw topics together over lengthy stem-winders (what he recently called “the weave”), while Stan has a certain unwillingness to be pinned down, a desire to keep moving. It takes some coaxing to bring Stan, a man with the upright bearing and square jaw of a matinee idol, to speak about his own process — how hard he worked to conjure a sense Trump, and how he sought to bring out new insights about America’s most scrutinized politician.

“I think he’s a lot smarter than people want to say about him,” Stan says, “because he repeats things consistently, and he’s given you a brand.” Stan would know: He watched videos of Trump on a loop while preparing for “The Apprentice.” In the film, out on Oct. 11, Stan plays Trump as he moves from insecure, aspiring real estate developer to still insecure but established member of the New York celebrity firmament.

We’re sitting over coffee in Manhattan. Stan is dressed down in a black chore coat and black tee, yet he’s anything but a casual conversation partner. He rarely breaks eye contact, doing so only on the occasions when he has something he wants to show me on his iPhone (cracked screen, no case). In this instance, it’s folders of photos and videos labeled “DT” and “DT PHYSICALITY.”

“I had 130 videos on his physicality on my phone,” Stan says. “And 562 videos that I had pulled with pictures from different time periods — from the ’70s all the way to today — so I could pull out his speech patterns and try to improvise like him.” Stan, deep in character, would ad-lib entire scenes at director Ali Abbasi’s urging, drawing on the details he’d learned from watching Trump and reading interviews to understand precisely how to react in each moment.

“Ali could come in on the second take and say, ‘Why don’t you talk a little bit about the taxes and how you don’t want to pay?’ So I had to know what charities they were going to in 1983. Every night I would go home and try not only to prepare for the day that was coming, but also to prepare for where Ali was going to take this.”

Looking at Stan’s phone, among the endless pictures of Trump, I glimpse thumbnails of Stan’s own face perched in a Trumpian pout and videos of the actor’s preparation just aching to be clicked — or to be stored in the Trump Presidential Library when this is all over in a few months, or in 2029, or beyond.

“I started to realize that I needed to start speaking with my lips in a different way,” Stan says. “A lot of that came from the consonants. If I’m talking, I’m moving forward.” On film, Stan shapes his mouth like he can’t wait to get the plosives out, puckering without quite tipping into parody. “The consonants naturally forced your lips forward.”

“If he did 10% more of what he did, it would become ‘Saturday Night Live,’” Abbasi says. “If he did 10% less, then he’s not conjuring that person. But here’s the thing about Sebastian: He’s very inspired by reality, by research. And that’s also the way I work; if you want to go to strange places, you need to get your baseline reality covered very well.”

A little later, Stan passes me the phone again to show me a selfie of him posing shirtless and revealing two sagging pecs and a bit of a gut. He’s pouting into a mirror. If his expression looks exaggerated, consider that he was in Marvel-movie shape before stepping into the role of the former president; the body transformation happened rapidly and jarringly. Trump’s size is a part of the film’s plot — as Trump’s sense of self inflates, so does he. In a rush to meet the shooting deadline for “The Apprentice,” Abbasi asked Stan, “How much weight can you gain?”

“You’d be surprised,” Stan tells me. “You can gain a lot of weight in two months.” (Fifteen pounds, to be exact.)

Now he’s back in fighting form, but the character has stayed with him. After years of playing second-fiddle agents of chaos — goofball husbands to Margot Robbie’s and Lily James’ characters in “I, Tonya” and Hulu’s “Pam & Tommy,” surly frenemy to Chris Evans’ Captain America in the Marvel franchise — Stan plunged into the id of the man whose appetites have reshaped our world. He had to have a polished enough sense of Trump that he could improvise in character, and enough respect for him to play him as a human being, not a monster.

It’s one of two transformations this year for Stan — and one that might give a talented actor that most elusive thing: a brand of his own. He’s long been adjacent enough to star power that he could feel its glow, but he hasn’t been the marquee performer. While his co-stars have found themselves defined by the projects he’s been in — from “Captain America” and “I, Tonya” back to his start on “Gossip Girl” — he’s spent more than a decade in the public eye while evading being defined at all.

This fall promises to be the season that changes all that: Stan is pulling double duty with “The Apprentice” and “A Different Man” (in theaters Sept. 20), in which he plays a man afflicted with a disfiguring tumor disorder who — even when presented with a fantastical treatment that makes him look like, well, Sebastian Stan — can’t be cured of ailments of the soul. For “A Different Man,” Stan won the top acting prize at the Berlin Film Festival; for “The Apprentice,” the sky’s the limit, if it can manage to get seen. (More on that later.)

One reason Stan has largely evaded being defined is that he’s never the same twice, often willing to get loopy or go dark in pursuit of his characters’ truths. That’s all the more true this year: In “The Apprentice,” he’s under the carapace of Trumpiness; in “A Different Man,” his face is hidden behind extensive prosthetics.

“In my book, if you’re the good-looking, sensitive guy 20 movies in a row, that’s not a star for me,” says Abbasi, who compares Stan to Marlon Brando — an actor eager to play against his looks. “You’re just one of the many in the factory of the Ken dolls.”

This fall represents Stan’s chance to break out of the toy store once and for all. His Winter Soldier brought a jolt of evil into Captain America’s world, and his Jeff Gillooly was the devil sitting on Tonya Harding’s shoulder. Now Stan is at the center of the frame, playing one of the most divisive characters imaginable. So he’s showing us where he can go. The spotlight is his, and so is the risk that comes with it.

Why take such a risk?

The script for “The Apprentice,” which Stan first received in 2019, but which took years to come together, made him consider the American dream, the one that Trump achieved and is redefining.

Stan emigrated with his mother, a pianist, from communist Romania as a child. “I was raised always aware of the American dream: America being the land of opportunity, where dreams come true, where you can make something of yourself.” He pushes the wings of his hair back to frame his face, a gold signet ring glinting in the late-summer sunlight, and, briefly, I can hear a hint of Trump’s directness of approach. “You can become whoever you want, if you just have a good idea.” Stan’s good idea has been to play the lead in movies while dodging the formulaic identity of a leading man, and this year will prove just how far he can take it.

“The Apprentice” seemed like it would never come together before suddenly it did. This time last year, Stan was sure it was dead in the water, and he was OK with that. “If this movie is not happening, it’s because it’s not meant to happen,” he recalls thinking. “It will not be because I’m too scared and walk away.”

Called in on short notice and filming from November 2023 to January of this year (ahead of a May premiere in Cannes), Stan lent heft and attitude to a character arc that takes Trump from local real estate developer in the 1970s to national celebrity in the 1980s. He learns the rough-and-tumble game of power from the ruthless and hedonistic political fixer Roy Cohn (Jeremy Strong), eventually cutting the closeted Cohn loose as he dies of AIDS and alienating his wife Ivana (Maria Bakalova) in the process. (In a shocking scene, Donald sexually assaults Ivana in their Trump Tower apartment.) For all its edginess, the film is about Trump’s personality — and the way it calcified into a persona — rather than his present-day politics. (Despite its title, it’s set well before the 2004 launch of the reality show that finally made Trump the superstar he longed to be.)

And despite the fact that Trump has kept America rapt since he announced his run for president in 2015, Hollywood has been terrified of “The Apprentice.” The film didn’t sell for months after Cannes, an unusual result for a major English-language competition film, partly because Trump’s legal team sent a cease-and-desist letter attempting to block the film’s release in the U.S. while the fest was still ongoing. When it finally sold, it was to Briarcliff Entertainment, a distributor so small that the production has launched a Kickstarter campaign to raise money so that it will be able to stay in theaters.

Yes, Hollywood may vote blue, but it’s not the same town that released “Fahrenheit 9/11” or even “W.,” let alone a film that depicts the once (and possibly future) president raping his wife. (The filmmakers stand behind that story. “The script is 100% backed by my own interviews and historical research,” says Gabriel Sherman, the screenwriter and a journalist who covers Trump and the American conservative movement. “And it’s important to note that it is not a documentary. It’s a work of fiction that’s inspired by history.”) Entertainment corporations from Netflix to Disney would be severely inconvenienced if the next president came into office with a grudge against them.

“I am quite shocked, to be honest,” Abbasi says. “This is not a political piece. It’s not a hit piece; it’s not a hatchet job; it’s not propaganda. The fact that it’s been so challenging is shocking.” Abbasi, born in Iran, was condemned by his government over his last film, “Holy Spider,” and cannot safely return. He sees a parallel in the response to “The Apprentice.” “OK, that’s Iran — that is unfortunately expected. But I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Everything with this film has been one day at a time,” Stan says. The actor chalks up the film’s divisiveness to a siloed online environment. “There are a lot of people who love reading the [film’s] Wikipedia page and throwing out their opinions,” he says, an edge entering his voice. “But they don’t actually know what they’re talking about. That’s a popular sport now online, apparently.”

Unprompted, Stan brings up the idea that Trump is so widely known that some might think a biographical film about him serves no purpose. “When someone says, ‘Why do we need this movie? We know all this,’ I’ll say, ‘Maybe you do, but you haven’t experienced it. The experience of those two hours is visceral. It’s something you can hopefully feel — if you still have feelings.’”

After graduating from Rutgers in 2005, Stan found his first substantial role on “Gossip Girl,” playing troubled rich kid Carter Baizen. Like teen soaps since time immemorial, “Gossip Girl” was a star-making machine. “It was the first time I was in serious love with somebody,” he says. (He dated the series’ star, Leighton Meester, from 2008 to 2010.) He feels nostalgic for that moment: “Walking around the city, seeing these same buildings and streets — life seemed simpler.”

Stan followed his “Gossip Girl” gig with roles on the 2009 NBC drama “Kings,” playing a devious gay prince in an alternate-reality modern world governed by a monarchy, and the 2012 USA miniseries “Political Animals,” playing a black-sheep prince (and once again a gay man) of a different sort — the son of a philandering former president and an ambitious former first lady.

When I ask him what lane he envisioned himself in as a young actor, he shrugs off the question. “I grew up with a single mom, and I didn’t have a lot of male role models. I was always trying to figure out what I wanted to be. And at some point, I was like, I could just be a bunch of things.”

Which might seem challenging when one is booked to play the same character, Bucky Barnes, in Marvel movie after Marvel movie. Bucky’s adventures have been wide-ranging — he’s been brainwashed and turned evil and then brought back to the home team again, all since his debut in 2011’s “Captain America: The First Avenger.” Next year, he’ll anchor the summer movie “Thunderbolts,” as the leader of a squad of quirky heroes played by, among others, Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Florence Pugh. It’s easy to wonder if this has come to feel like a cage of sorts.

Not so, says Stan. His new Marvel film “was kind of like ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’ — a guy coming into this group that was chaotic and degenerate, and somehow finding a way to unite them.”

Lately, knives have been out for Marvel movies as some have disappointed at the box office, and “Thunderbolts,” which endured strike delays and last-minute cast changes, has been under scrutiny.

“It’s become really convenient to pick on [Marvel films],” Stan says. “And that’s fine. Everyone’s got an opinion. But they’re a big part of what contributes to this business and allows us to have smaller movies as well. This is an artery traveling through the system of this entire machinery that’s Hollywood. It feeds in so many more ways than people acknowledge.” He adds, “Sometimes I get protective of it because the intention is really fucking good. It’s just fucking hard to make a good movie over and over again.”

Which may account for an eagerness to try something new. “In the last couple of years,” he says, “I’ve gotten much more aggressive about pursuing things that I want, and I’m constantly looking for different ways of challenging myself.”

The challenge continued throughout the shoot of “The Apprentice,” as Stan pushed the material. “One of the most creatively rewarding parts of the process was how open Sebastian was to giving notes on the script but also wanting to go beyond the script,” says Sherman, the screenwriter. “If he was interested in a certain aspect of a scene, he was like, Can you find me a quote?” he recalls.

Building a dynamic through improvised scenes, Stan and Strong stayed in character throughout the “Apprentice” shoot. “I was doing an Ibsen play on Broadway,” says Strong, who won a Tony in June for his performance in “An Enemy of the People,” “and he came backstage afterwards. And it was like — I’d never really met Sebastian, and I don’t think he’d ever met me. So it was nice to meet him.”

Before the pair began acting together, they didn’t rehearse much — “I’m not a fan of rehearsals,” Strong says. “I think actors are best left in their cocoon, doing their work, and then trusted to walk on set and be ready.” The two didn’t touch the script together until cameras went up — though they spent a preproduction day, Strong says, playing games in character as Donald and Roy.

After filming, both have kept memories of the hold their characters had on them. They shared a flight back from Telluride — a famously bumpy trip out of the mountains. “He’s a nervous flyer, and I’m a nervous flyer,” Stan says. Both marveled at the fact that they’d contained their nerves on the first day of shooting “The Apprentice,” when their characters traveled together via helicopter. “We both go, ‘Yeah — but there was a camera.’”

Stan’s aggressive approach to research came in handy on “A Different Man,” which shot before “The Apprentice.” His character’s disorder, neurofibromatosis, is caused by a genetic mutation and presents as benign tumors growing in the nervous system. After being healed, he feels a growing envy for a fellow sufferer who seems unbothered by his disability.

Stan’s co-star, Adam Pearson, was diagnosed with neurofibromatosis in early childhood. Stan found the experience challenging to render faithfully. “I said many times, I can do all the research in the world, but am I ever going to come close to this?” Stan says. “How am I going to ever do this justice?”

Plus, he had precious little time to prepare: “He was fully on board, and the film was being made weeks later,” director Aaron Schimberg says. “Zero to 60 in a matter of weeks.”

The actor grappled for something to hold on to, and Pearson sug gested he refer to his own experience of fame. “Adam said to me, ‘You know what it’s like to be public property,’” Stan says.

Pearson recalls describing the experience to Stan this way: “While you don’t understand the invasiveness and the staring and the pointing that I’ve grown up with, you do know what it’s like to have the world think you owe them something.”

That sense of alienation becomes universal through the film’s storytelling: “A Different Man” takes its premise as the jumping-off point for a deep and often mordant investigation of who we all are underneath the skin.

The film was shot in 22 days in a New York City heat wave, and there was, Schimberg says, “no room for error. I would get four or five takes, however many I could squeeze out, but there’s no coverage.”

Through it all, Stan’s performance is utterly poised — Schimberg and Stan discussed Buster Keaton as a reference for his ability to be “completely stone-faced” amid chaos, the director says. And the days were particularly long because Oscar-nominated prosthetics artist Michael Marino was only able to apply Stan’s makeup in the early morning, before going to his job on the set of “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.”

“Even though I wasn’t shooting until 11 a.m., I would go at like 5 in the morning to his studio, or his apartment,” Stan recalls. The hidden advantage was that Stan had hours to kill while made up like his character, the kind of person the world looks past. “I wanted to walk around the city and see what happened,” Stan says. “On Broadway, one of the busiest streets in New York, no one’s looking at me. It’s as if I’m not even there.” The other reaction was worse: “Somebody would immediately stop and very blatantly hit their friend, point, take a picture.”

It was a study in empathy that flowed into the character. Stan had spoken to Pearson’s mother, who watched her son develop neurofibromatosis before growing into a disability advocate and, eventually, an actor. “She said to me, ‘All I ever wanted was for someone to walk in his shoes for a day,’” Stan recalls. “And I guess that was the closest I had ever come.”

“The Apprentice” forced Stan, and forces the viewer, to do the same with a figure that some 50% of the electorate would sooner forget entirely. And that lends the film its controversy. Those on the right, presupposing that the movie is an anti-Trump document, have railed against it. In a statement provided to Variety, a Trump campaign spokesman said, “This ‘film’ is pure malicious defamation, should never see the light of day and doesn’t even deserve a place in the straight-to-DVD section of a bargain bin at a soon-to-be-closed discount movie store, it belongs in a dumpster fire.” The campaign threatened a lawsuit, though none has materialized.

Asked about the assault scene, Stan notes that Ivana had made the claim in a deposition, but later walked it back. “Is it closer to the truth, what she had said directly in the deposition or something that she retracted?” he asks. “They went with the first part.”

The movie depicts, too, Ivana’s carrying on with her marriage after the violation, which may be still more devastating. “How do you overcome something like this?” asks Bakalova. “Do you have to put on a mask that everything is fine? In the next scene, she’s going to play the game and pretend that we’re the glamorous, perfect couple.” The Trumps, in “The Apprentice,” live in a world of paper-thin images, one that grows so encompassing that Donald no longer feels anything for the people to whom he was once loyal. They’re props in his stage show.

“The Apprentice” will drop in the midst of the most chaotic presidential election of our lifetime. “The way it lands in this extremely polarized situation, for me as an artist, is exciting. I won’t lie to you,” says Abbasi.

When asked if he was concerned about blowback from a Trump 47 presidency, Stan says, “You can’t do this movie and not be thinking about all those things, but I really have no idea. I’m still in shock from going from an assassination attempt to the next weekend having a president step down [from a reelection bid].”

Stan’s job, as he sees it, was to synthesize everything he’d absorbed — all those videos on his phone — into a person who made sense. This Trump had to be part of a coherent story, not just the flurry of news updates to which we’ve become accustomed.

“You can take a Bach or a Beethoven, and everyone’s going to play that differently on the piano, right?” Stan says. (His pianist mother named him for Johann Sebastian Bach.) “So this is my take on what I’ve learned. I have to strip myself of expectations of being applauded for this, if people are going to like it or people are going to hate it. People are going to say whatever they want. Hopefully they should think at least before they say it.”

It’s a reality that Stan is now used to — the work is the work, and the way people interpret him is none of his business. Perhaps that’s why he has run away from ever being the same thing twice. “I could sit with you today and tell you passionately what my truth is, but it doesn’t matter,” he says. “Because people are more interested in a version of you that they want to see, rather than who you are.”

“The Apprentice” has been the subject of extreme difference of opinion by many who have yet to see it. It’s been read — and will continue to be after its release — as anti-Trump agitprop. The truth is chewier and more complicated, and, perhaps, unsuited for these times.

“Are we going to live in a world where anyone knows what the truth is anymore? Or is it just a world that everyone wants to create for themselves?” Stan asks.

His voice — the one that shares a slight accent with Trump but that is, finally, Stan’s own — is calm and clear. “People create their own truth right now,” he says. “That’s the only thing that I’ve made peace with; I don’t need to twist your arm if that’s what you want to believe. But the way to deal with something is to actually confront it.”

[snowballseal]

hihi! i was curious if you would be willing to do a drabble inspired by the sleepy affection with sylus piece, but with out good dr zayne? i feel like sleepy cuddles with him would be so comforting... regardless, thank you sm for sharing your writing!! every piece you've posted has always brought a smile to my face (kicking my feet all happily too) even for characters i'm not as interested in :)

Sleepy Affection ~ Zayne

Summary: It's winter, and there's nothing like cuddling with your sleepy doctor after you've both had a long day (or a long few days in Zayne's case).

Word Count: 1014

Note: I'm honestly so whipped for this man. Like, I'm so soft for him. And he's so soft for reader. This man would turn into a cuddly cat when he's tired, kinda like the misty invasion card (*eyes emoji*)

Hope you enjoy! Thank you for the request! And thank you for your really kind words. I'm glad my writing can make people happy.

---

Winters in Linkon are your favorite.

There’s something about the snow, the crisp chill in the air, the smell of peppermint drifting from the coffee shops. Every store is draped in twinkle lights and each street rings with the song of bells as people come and go. The kids seem somehow more feral and delightful, running through the parks in their brightly colored scarves, building snowmen wherever they can. Being a hunter, you’re drawn into more than a few snowball fights by groups of eager children who want to see your “fighting skills”.

But your favorite part about winters are the sleepy evenings. It’s the feeling of getting home after a long day, a deep chill in your bones alongside the exhaustion, ready to curl up in your blankets with a cup of hot cocoa and a movie. There’s nothing else like it.

And what makes it even better?

When your boyfriend joins you after his even longer shift.

Your apartment is quiet except for the playful soundtrack of ‘Elf’ humming in the background. You snuggle deeper into the couch, eyes glued to the window beside you, watching the thick snowflakes dance with the wind. They look like little ballerinas to your tired eyes, pirouetting round and round and round. Hypnotizingly graceful.

The front door opens with a muted click.

Lazily, you tear your gaze away from the window. You do your best to glance over the back of the couch, your cheek pressing into the cushion, too comfortable to move, eyes half-lidded with sleep.

Your heart flutters at the sight in front of you though. Zayne stands in the foyer, pulling off his many layers of warm clothes with a startling lack of grace. Snow clings to his dark hair and coat, falling to the ground with each of his sluggish movements. The doctor looks tired. His eyes meet yours, dark and warm, hooded just like your own.

You lift the edge of your blankets. A silent invitation.

Zayne trudges across the living room, his steps uncharacteristically heavy. He takes off his glasses and leaves them on the table behind the couch. You smother a giggle when he practically collapses against you. It’s like having a large cat curl around you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck with a long, content sigh.

Resting your cheek against his hair, you tuck your blankets around his shoulders, murmuring a soft, “Hey, baby.”

The doctor lets out a low rumble in response, drawing you impossibly closer. You inhale sharply when he slips his hands under your sweater, his freezing cold fingers desperately seeking out the warmth of your skin. You shiver as they trace delicately along your waist, slotting in the tight space between you and the couch.

“Your fingers are freezing,” you whine, jarred from your sleepy state.

Of course you don’t actually mind, though. Not with Zayne. Not when he nuzzles so cutely into your neck, murmuring the most unapologetic apology you’ve ever heard, his voice low and raspy with exhaustion. A fuzzy kind of fondness washes over you.

“Long day?”

Zayne sighs, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your throat, “I’ve slept only three hours in the past two days.”

Poor thing.

You feel a stab of pity for him. That might be the only drawback of winter, you suppose. Akso Hospital is always infinitely busier with this kind of weather. The snow always brings more accidents and Zayne always volunteers to work extra shifts when the need is dire, no matter the cost to his health. It’s something you love, but also something that worries you.

Brows furrowing, you card your fingers through his hair tenderly in hopes of helping him relax. It’s still a little damp from the snow. Zayne shivers when your nails trace over his scalp. Another shaky sigh escapes him when your hand dips under his collar to massage his nape. He practically melts under your touch, his weight pressing you deeper into the couch.

You’re not sure where the movie is now. The cup of hot cocoa on the side table is likely cold. But it’s hard to care. All you can focus on is Zayne. The steady rise and fall of his chest. The faint smell of jasmine hidden under the lingering scent of the hospital. The comforting weight of his body on top of yours.

Eyes fluttering shut, you nuzzle your face into his hair, hands going still around his shoulders. The two of you stay like that for what feels like hours, drifting in and out of sleep as the snow dances outside. It all feels so distant, your blankets hiding you from the cold, from the rest of the world. 

It’s just the two of you.

The two of you, in your shared apartment, always coming home to one another. Just like this.

Your heart warms at the thought. Nudging his forehead gently, you draw Zayne back just enough to see his face. He looks back at you with those hooded eyes, hazel depths brimming with a reverent affection. Biting back a smile, you lean down to kiss him. It’s a tender thing, a mere brush of your lips against his, featherlight and full of devotion. It leaves the both of  you aching yet content as you draw away.

“I love you,” you whisper, nose brushing his sweetly.

“I love you as well, my dear,” he hums, a flicker of a tired smile gracing his lips.

You can’t resist pressing another kiss to them, your own smile breaking through, “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll wake you when it’s time for dinner.”

Without an ounce of resistance, Zayne settles back against you, his head resting on your chest. The soft thrum of your heartbeat lulls him to sleep, the exhaustion finally catching up and pulling him under. You listen as his breathing evens out, deep and slow.

And while you mean to stay up, you can’t resist the warmth, the comfort of having him there with you.

Vaguely, you hear the credit song playing as you drift off into sleep.

---

I have such a thing for calling stoic men 'baby', I feel like it's so soft and cute and he'd honestly probably melt for it. Idk, maybe just me, please don't come for me in the comments.

[conchcronch]

Little Rabbit

Sir Crocodile x You

It’s been weeks since he’s paid you an ounce of attention. You had done everything you could think of, except one thing. You knew interrupting their meeting was going to be met with a punishment, but at least you’d have him all to yourself.

A/N: I do not know where this came from, am I a Crocodile simp now 🤷‍♀️

Kinks included: Daddy kink, impact play, slight exibitionism

You could hear the sound of the clown’s whining through the heavy doors that separated you from the boardroom. Rarely did meetings need to be hosted anywhere besides the new Guild ship, but Crocodile claimed he needed a break from the gaudy circus-inspired interior so he offered up his own ship. The three of them had been hold up there since before you were awake, having rolled over to find the other side of the bed empty and cool to the touch. You had been milling around the doors, hoping they could at the very least call for a break so you could see him but as the hours stretched on you grew impatient.

Over the past few weeks he had been so caught up in his guild work that you had barely been able to see him, you were lucky if you were able to even get a few words in before he went to bed. Sometimes you even followed him to your shared bedroom, in hopes you could bother him for the quickest of quickies. But every time he would just pull you against his bare chest and fall asleep, barely a word spoken between you two. You understood he was tired, you were conscious that he had been working extremely long hours but it seemed as though you weren’t even there. And you intended to end that here and now.

You had put on an outfit you knew he was partial to, a black silky dress the fell to your mid thigh. It had black lace along the hem, neckline and the narrow straps, it was the simplest dress you owned but something about the way the fabric hugged your wide hips always made him go crazy. You had paired it with simple black boots that sat just below your knee, a gold SC could be seen on the back of the heel but other then that they were plain. You had gone to his private bar and poured him a glass of his favourite scotch in a crystal glass, along with a glass and bottle of red wine you knew would be up to Mihawk’s standards. For the clown you brought water, hoping the two would allow the poor thing to actually drink it.

With a deep breath you pushed opened the heavy door, feeling heat begin to radiate from between your legs as soon as you saw Crocodile, who’s head whipped to look at who had the audacity to interrupt. All eyes were on you, their conversation pausing as they took you in. “I know you’re busy, but I thought I’d bring you all something to drink to tide you over until dinner is ready.” You walked first to Mihawk’s side, setting the glass down in front of him and slowly pouring the wine for him, turning the bottle as you did so to avoid it dripping when you filled the glass halfway. You could feel the other two’s eyes scan over your body when you faced Mihawk, who’s eyes were shamelessly running up and down your form. “Thank you my dear, you’re so thoughtful.” His hand caught yours as you placed the bottle on the table, bringing your hand to his lips, his gaze averting from you to Crocodile’s. “You’ve got yourself quite the woman, Crocodile.” His lips moved against your hand in a way your body could hardly handle, finally allowing your hand to slip from his when the man across the table cleared his throat.

“I also brought Buggy water, but I can just put that here.” You placed the water next to Mihawk, hazarding a look at the clown who’s head sat at the end of the table, a prominent bump above his eyes and his blue tangled tresses surrounding him. You could tell he wanted to thank you, but he kept his mouth shut, only giving you a small nod so you knew he was grateful.

You picked up the glass you had left at the head of the table, walking around so you could place it on Crocdile’s right side, making sure to bend over the table as you slid the glass across the wooden surface. You knew if he tried he could easily see the hint of your purple panties, you picked them specifically to match the vest he was currently wearing, the white lace on the sems perfectly mimicking the piping that accented his outfit. “Can I bring anything else for any of you?” You couldn’t resist touching him, your hand running from his shoulder to behind his neck where you tried to card your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck before he fidgeted, his sign for you to get your hands away. With a huff you pulled your hand away, drawing your attention back to the other two men at the table.

“I’m quite alright, but thank you little rabbit.” Mihawk’s eyes held yours, the yellow rings of his iris making it difficult to tear your gaze away, but when you felt a hand on the back of your thigh your eyes moved without question to the man next to you.

“S-sir” Slipped from your lips in a breathy tone, half startled from the unexpected touch so close to where you needed him most. You looked at him, his brow knit together in irritation. “Can I bring you anything to eat?” He shook his head, blowing a cloud of smoke at you. He moved in his chair, bringing his leg to drape over his knee and god you wanted to sit in his lap, to feel his wide chest against your back, his hook running along your inner thigh, his fingers grazing over your covered core.

“No, go away, we have more work to do.” You wanted to fight it, argue that you had some use in this meeting, you knew that would at best be met with a laugh but that was unlikely. You wanted to kiss him, to leave a lipstick stain on his cheek that could be a silent reminder that you’d be waiting for him, but you knew that would be a mistake. So you walked out, pulling the doors closed behind you, only catching the cold words of Crocodile saying “Shut up” to something Mihawk must have said but you had missed.

You were yet to know whether your plan was a success so you made your way to his office, closing the door behind you and flicking on the dim light. You curled up in the green velvet loveseat he bought specifically for you. He always liked you having a place in his rooms, somewhere that you can stay when he wants you to be near him but still be able to get work done. You picked up the book you had left there from the last night you had tried to stay up late enough to see him, not knowing he was going to go straight to bed. Tonight wouldn’t be like that, you were determined to see him, the throbbing between your legs demanded it.

Just when you were thinking you were going to go find a different set of four walls to stare at, your book barely holding your attention anymore, you heard the sound of pristine dress shoes click against the wood floorboards. You froze, your book clutched in your hands to make it seem like you were reading and not just counting down the seconds until you hoped his meeting wrapped up. The door opened and there he was. You had to push the moan down that tried to bubble up just at the sight of him, it would have shown just how down bad you really were. As he closed the door his eyes landed on you and you tried desperately to act like you didn’t notice. He didn’t say anything to you right away, walking around his desk and sitting down with a new stack of papers he must have brought from the meeting. “You think you’re real clever don’t you?” He dug through his desk drawer before pulling out his monogrammed fountain pen, beginning to sign document after document, only stopping occasionally to read over whatever was written on it.

“I was just trying to be hospitable.” You peaked over the top of your book, noticing how his eyebrow twitched.

“You’re well on your way to a punishment if you keep that up.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” You push yourself upright from the way you naturally slouched, stretching your legs out, the heels of your bare feet digging into the velvet, having taken your boots and knee highs off shortly after settling in to read. A deep chuckle falls from his lips, his shoulder shaking as he scrawls his signature on another dotted line.

“I can practically smell how wet you are from over here, but I’m not going to do anything about it until you can list off exactly what you did wrong.” The way in which he speaks to you is reminiscent of how someone might relay the weather, not as though he’s giving you instructions that only dampen your panties more.

“M-Maybe I’ll just go find Mihawk and see if he’ll help me. I am his rabbit after all.” Crocodile scoffed at your attempt to be smug, watching as you coyly crossed your ankles bringing his gaze down your pale legs to your freshly manicured toes before crawling back up to your face that you try to cover with your book that you’re clearly not actually reading. “Or maybe I’ll ask Buggy.” You allowed your eyes to flick up from the pages just in time to see the large man crunch his cigar between his molars.

“Go ahead, you’ll just come crying back to me when they can’t make you cum.” He shrugged, thumbing through the remaining papers in his pile of yet to be signed documents. The conversation died, you tried to go back to your book and he went back to his work. The sound of his ballpoint pen scratching against the paper was the only sound that filled the room. With every piece of paper he moved from his right to his left you hoped he would turn his attention to you, but he never did. You rub your thighs together looking for any kind of pressure to ease the pulsing between your legs but nothing seems to help.

”I-I shouldn’t have interrupted your meeting.” The only sign that he heard you was a short hum that you knew as an affirmative sound.

“That’s one.”

“But you’ve been in meetings all month, I thought if you had the meeting here I could come see you more, I miss you.”

“No, your cunt misses me.” You had to clench your teeth together to stop the moan from pushing out of your parted lips at the mention of your cunt which was begging to be touched.

“So what if my cunt missed you, is that not enough?”

“Your cunt misses me the second I pull out, if I came to you every time she missed me, I’d get nothing done.” The way he spoke to you, spoke about you, never failed to make your cheeks burn but as the room fell silent again, and even the smell of his cigar, a habit that a few months ago you found disgusting now makes the throb between your legs excruciating. “I shouldn’t have bent over the table in front of you.” Your words were barely loud enough for him to hear but you knew he did. You hoped that that would be enough to appease him, enough to get him to give into you but you knew by the curt nod it wasn’t.

“There’s more to the list then that, but you’re doing better.”

“This isn’t fair.” You weren’t proud of the whiny tone your voice took on, but it had been weeks since you had sex, even longer since you had touched yourself, and this was pushing you beyond your limit.

“Quit your whining, I’ve told you what you need to do to get what you want, it’s not my fault you refuse to follow basic instructions.”

“I don’t know what else I did!”

“That’s not my problem.” You could hear the irritation that was bleeding into his tone, his eyebrows knit together as he ground what little of the cigar that was left between his teeth.

“Are you mad he kissed my hand? Mad that he called me his rabbit?” You tossed your book down by your feet, swinging your legs forward so they dangled just off the ground. “Mad that I brought Buggy water, or was it just the simple fact that I was there that bothered you so much?”

“I’m not playing this game with you, if you think those are the things you did wrong then just say that.” You let out a frustrated groan as you dug the heels of your palm into your eyes. You push yourself up to your feet, walking over to his desk and standing there waiting for him to notice you. He knows you’re there, you know he does, but his lack of acknowledgement makes you want to slam your hands on his desk in anger. “Please.” You whine.

“I’ve told you what you have to do, I’m not in the mood to make compromises.”

“Can I make it up to you?”

“You can’t make up for something if you don’t know what that something is.” You wanted to leave, to turn on your heel and slam his office door behind you. You wanted to march up to your shared bedroom, shove your face into his pillow and finger fuck yourself enough times that the throbbing between your legs is replaced by the prickle of overstimulation, but you knew if you did that you would be facing an even worse punishment then this.

“Please Sir.” You watched as he slammed his hook in the desk, his gaze finally meeting yours, his dark eyes somehow even darker.

“There it is again.”

“I-I thought you liked it when I cal-“

“Enough.” He interrupted you, pushing himself to his feet finally. “First you allow him to touch you, to kiss you. Then you throw yourself at me in the middle of a meeting, when I’ve explicitly told you to never do that. You acted like a slut in front of my colleagues, you invade my office without permission, flaunting your greedy little cunt to me while I’m trying to work and now you have the audacity to beg.” He pulled the butt of his cigar out from between his teeth, stubbing it out in the ash tray on his desk. “I thought you were finally trained, then out of nowhere you act out like this.” He walked around the heavy oak desk, pausing only to drape his gray fur coat over the back of his chair before continuing around to tower over you. You try to take a step back, to put some distance between you two, reminded of the sheer power he wields over you, but he’s quick to hold you in place with his hook. “And now, after all that whining you finally get my attention and what, you try to back away from me?” He shakes his head at you, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “You know what’s coming, don’t you?” He doesn’t fight the wicked smile that spreads over his wide mouth as you shake your head, eyes wide. “Come now baby girl, it hasn’t been that long since I’ve had to punish you, you must remember”

“I-I don’t remember, really.” That was a lie, you knew exactly what was coming but you were living for this game you were playing. His aroma wrapped around you like vice, encompassing you completely in his colegn and the smell of his cigar, making your head swim.

“I guess I’ll have to remind you then, won’t I?” With a quick movement he shoved you into the densely cushioned high back of the loveseat. You quickly knocked your book on the ground, making sure it wasn’t going to get in the way of whatever was coming next. “I suppose no matter how well you train a bitch, she’ll eventually bite the hand that feeds her.” He made his way over to you, taking his time. He holds out his hand to you, palm upturned, his signal that he wanted you to remove his cufflink, a task that proved more difficult for him then he would ever admit.

You reach out, using both hands to guide the cufflink out from the French cuff before placing the small piece of gold that was shaped to into a crocodile head with tiny emerald eyes into his hand before rolling his sleeve up just above his elbow. When you were done you sat back on the chair, rubbing your thighs together as you waited for your next instructions. He brought a hand to your cheek and you braced for a swift smack, but it never came. Instead he cupped your cheek, his thumb running over your top lip, smearing the light pink lipstick onto your skin. You parted your lips, hoping he’d press his thick thumb into your mouth, but instead he slipped his hand down your face to your neck. His gaze fell to watch his hand tug gently at the golden chain that adorned your neck, it had been the first gift he gave you, something he insisted you wear at all times. It was simple, nothing overly complex or flashy, a buckle closure chainmail style gold necklace that sat at the base of your neck. Something that he often would idolly tug at, tightening the chain around your neck before releasing it. “Over the arm of the couch.” The words fell out of his mouth while he ran his hand over your neckline, the rough pads of his fingers following the fabric of your dress, toying with the thin strap before finally pulling away and stepping back.

You stood, stepping around Crocodile and laying over the arm of your loveseat. There was enough cushioning on it that it wasn’t overly uncomfortable but you knew the position wasn’t the punishment. He grabbed the hem of your dress, pulling it up and over you so it pooled just below the back of your bra, leaving your thighs, ass and lower back completely exposed. You knew when you heard the deep chuckle that he had noticed just how soaked your panties were, the sheer purple fabric leaving very little to the imagination even in the most pristine conditions, but you were confident that they were so wet the fabric was entirely see through. “Did you wear this outfit just to tempt me?” He ran a hand up the back of your thigh, grabbing the meat of your ass roughly.

“Y-yes.” You mumbled, face pressed into the velvet.

“What about these?” You felt the cool metal of his hook press right against your folds, the slick gathered there making the cool temperature of his golden hook even more noticeable. When you opened your mouth to speak, all you could do was moan, finally feeling his touch where you needed it the most.

“Yes, just for you.” He hummed approvingly, pulling his hook away from you with only a mild whine.

“Because you dressed so nicely for me, I’m feeling generous.” He ran his hand up over your ass and to your lower back, the pressure making your back arch more before he returned to your butt, grabbing the fat there. “I’m going to tell you all the things you did that pissed me off.”

“T-thank you, daddy.” He groaned at the name, you knew that was his favourite, always had been.

“And maybe next time, you’ll remember this and won’t do it again.” You nodded.

You heard the sound before you felt the sting of the first hit. The slap sound was loud enough to make you jump but he held you in place with his heavy hook that was pressing down on the small of your back. “That one’s for interrupting us.” This time you were ready for the impact, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. “And that one’s for letting him touch you.” You yelped when his hand met your cheek again, the burn apparent even when his hand disappeared between hits. “And letting him kiss you.” You wanted to correct him, he kissed your hand, but you knew that would only anger him more. “This one is for touching me like that in front of my colleagues.” That one hurt. A long high pitched moan slipped from your lips as your fingers tried to find purchase on the velvet fabric beneath you. “Another for showing me these slutty panties when you knew I couldn’t touch them.” You’re sure your ass is beat red at this point, but the way he would rub a circle on the abused spot in between smacks fanned the flames of your arousal. “And this one, this one baby girl is for calling me Sir in front of them.” That one was the hardest by far, your body tensing from the impact, a yelp falling from your lips. “Do you know how hard hearing you say that made me?” He moved slightly, allowing himself to lean over you, his hook gone from your lower back and replaced with his arm hooking underneath your waist, his hand dangerously close to your cunt.

“I’m so sorry daddy, I just- I missed you so much.” Your eyes were welling with tears from the spanking but you could almost feel his erection against you.

“I know you did baby girl, I’ve missed you too. But you can’t interrupt me when I’m working.” He moved your hair to the side so he could press sloppy kisses along your shoulders. The moment his lips were on you you were a moaning mess. “You looked so pretty when you came into the room, in my favourite dress, all done up pretty for me.” You nodded “you know how much I love when you have your hair down.” Finally you felt it, his covered erection as he humped against your raised ass. “And the boots,” he groaned into the crook of your neck. “Next time you come into my office, I want you in nothing but those boots and your necklace.”

“Anything for you, daddy.” That sentance was incredibly difficult to get out between the flow of moans. “C-can you please fuck me?”

“I wish I could, baby girl.”

“Why can’t you?” You brokenly half sobbed.

“I have work to finish.” You could feel him begin to pull away, as though he just remembered the stack of paper he abandoned in order to punish you. He stood up, making sure to look at the bright red that adorned your ass before adjusting himself in his dress pants. You forced yourself off the arm of the couch, rubbing at the soon-to-be bruise that would be across your stomach, your dress falling back down as you straightened. He was walking back around his desk before you had a chance to touch him, knowing that if you could rope him into a kiss that work wasn’t going to get done tonight.

He sat heavily in his desk chair, picking his pen up against and reading over the paper he had in front of him. You stood next to the couch, balling the hem of your dress in your fists as you tried to decide what to do next. “Is it that bad?” He sighed, looking up at you while he snipped the end of fresh cigar before holding it between his teeth to light it. You nodded, rubbing your thighs together to emphasize your point. “Come here.” He pushed his chair back a bit as you walked around the desk. “You’re going to have to entertain yourself while I finish this up.” You nodded, noticing how he angled his leg out from under his desk. You knew what he was offering. At this point you were so desperate you would have taken anything, you’d hoped for his cock but you would have been content with his hook, but yet, you were left with his thigh. But you could make it work.

You straddled his thigh, grabbing his dress pants as much as you could as you rutted against him slowly, getting closer to him until you could rest your head on his shoulder. You couldn’t stop the breathy moan that slipped through your parted lips. The feeling of having anything rubbed against your folds felt heavenly, even if it was just his slender thigh clad in expressive dress pants. The smell of him was intoxicating, leaned your head against his shoulder, your arms wrapped around his bicep, thankful for his hooked hand that supported you as you rutted against him, moans and breathy whines flowing out of your mouth as easily as your slick had gathered. “How’s that feel, baby girl?” You knew it was taking all the willpower he had to keep working and not to just sit and watch you hump his leg in desperation.

“G-good, it’s good.” You pinched your eyes closed trying to focus on the high that seemed to be alluding you.

“Only good?”

“I can think of a few other things that would feel better.” You were surprised you even managed to get that sentence out between your breathy moans.

“Oh yeah, why don’t you tell me some?” You should have known he was going to say that. You could hear him scribbling his signature on paper after paper, not taking as much time to review whatever it was before signing it.

“Your fingers, your hook-“ his hook slipped from your hip and ran along your bare thigh, prematurely ending your sentence with a surprised moan. “Your your tongue, god, your face.” Something halfway between an uh huh and a groan came from beside you as you humped against his thigh, your nails digging into his arm as you tried to steady yourself now that his hook was running up and down your thigh. “Your cock.”

“Thought you almost forgot that one.” He let out a low chuckle before you heard his pen hit the desk followed by the feeling of his hand on your head. “Take that dress off, give me something to watch.” He leaned back in his chair as you pulled the silk garment over your head, tossing it beside you. Your bra was next to follow, quickly joining the dress on the ground. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his grey ones as he puffed out a cloud of smoke from the side of his mouth. “I think you’ve worked hard enough to get a little reward.” You were nodding before he was even done his sentance. “Stand up for me” Your legs were a bit shakey when you stood up off his thigh but when he offered you his hook for support it was much easier to move from his thigh to stand between his spread legs. “Let’s get these off, shall we?” He grabbed your panties and yanked them down your legs, impatience clear in his movements. You stepped out of them, kicking them in the vague direction of the rest of your clothes before you leaned into his large chest. You pulled the cigar from his mouth, placing it on the ash tray before wrapping your hands around his neck and carding them through in his longer hair.

Your lips were on his and all seemed right in the world again. It was crazy to think that you didn’t remember the last time the two of you had shared a passionate kiss like this. The silk of his vest was a nice contrast to the heat your body was radiating as his hand slid down and between your legs. “Do you know how badly I wanted to just slip my fingers between your legs when you interrupted our meeting?” His first finger slipped right in, no resistance, nothing, as though your body was begging for him. You could feel his ring slip inside, your slick gathering along the golden band. “I wanted you to stand there and take it, maybe even bend over the table so I could see your greedy little hole swallow my fingers.” He guided your head onto his shoulder, your nails digging into his neck and shoulder as you moaned against him. “Would you have liked that? If Mihawk and the clown watched you get finger fucked by me?” You nodded before a strangled yes was able to slip out. He pressed another thick finger into your hole, the squelching sound they were making as he fucked into you was bordering on pornographic, and your stream of moans wasn’t helping that image either. “Maybe they’re still here, should I call them in to watch how I can make you beg?” You shook your head, unable to get the word out. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt you so wet.” He whispered into your hair, pressing a kiss to your neck.

His thick fingers were fucking into you, the slapping was becoming louder, if that was even possible. “You’ve lasted longer than I expected.”

“You h-haven’t said I can c-u-um yet.”

“There’s my well trained girl. Are you close?” You answer him with a broken sob, and normally he would make you work for it, make you beg. But he takes pity on you, his own erection becoming irritating so in interest of progressing the night he huskily whispers “Cum for me, baby girl.” And you do. A crashing wave of pleasure washes over you. You’re sure that if he hadn’t been holding you upright you could have crumbled at his feet. His fingers kept moving instead of you, slowing down but not ready to pull out yet. When he finally does, nudging his shoulder to get your attention as he licks the digits, knowing how much you like to see him taste you in any capacity. Your eyes are glued to how his tongue moves, and he’s very aware of that fact. “Do you wanna taste yourself?” You nodded, opening your mouth so he could push his fingers inside.

The taste of your own arousal filled your mouth, and at the same time the fingers in your mouth were forcing you to your knees, pushing down with enough force on your tongue to get the message across.

You could smell his musk before your fingers were able to work the button of his pants open. As you fumbled with deft fingers you looked up at him, his big hand running through your hair, a cascade of smoke flowing from his mouth. “What I wouldn’t do to have you sit between my legs like this every guild meeting.” When his pants were open you quickly drew his cock and balls from inside, a motion that had become quite practiced after knowing Crocodile as long as you had.

With one hand wrapped around the girthy base, you pull it forward enough that you could lick a long strip to his engorged head before encircling it with your lips. “I think you can fit more of me between those pretty lips, don’t you?” The hand that was on your head started pushing you down, inch by inch you got closer to his well kept dark curls. When you got just over half of him down your throat you could feel your body begin to reject the intrusion, drool spilling from your mouth in amounts you found disgusting but he found thrilling. He knew if you ever stopped allowing yourself to be pushed down anymore you were at your limit. Instead of pushing he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you off his cock.

Your chin and lips were covered in shiny spit, your lipstick smeared and your eyeliner smudged from your tears. To him, there were few times you looked better than this. “I think you’re out of practice.” You nodded, your mind clouded by your arousal. “Let’s try again, shall we?” Again you nodded, resting your hands on either thigh, noticing the wet spot on his left thigh from where you had ground against him.

A knock at the door seemed to startle both of you, but lucky for you, Crocodile was great at problem solving, specifically when it came to how he can keep his cock in your mouth. He ushered you under his desk, pulling his chair in close so you weren’t visible. “It’s me.” A voice you instantly recognized as Mihawk’s came from the other side of the door with a second knock, if you hadn’t been as close to Crocodile you would I have missed the groan that he quickly muffled with a cough.

“Yeah yeah, come in.” The cigar was back between his teeth, the pen in his hand, as though Mihawk had just walked in on him actually working. You could hear the door open, and quiet footsteps towards you.

“Did you have a chance to look everything over?”

“Yeah, just finished.” With your limited space you couldn’t move up high enough on your knees to swallow him entirely, so you were stuck just mouthing at his shaft, licking at the drips of pre cum as they slid down from his head.

“Thank you, I didn’t realize how much it was until after the meeting.” Crocodile hummed. “Unfortunately, I have more.” You heard more paper being put down on the oak desk and a groan of irritation from the man who’s cock you wanted to choke on. There was a silence that hung in the air and you couldn’t tell what was happening, which drove you crazy. “I think you should host more of our meetings, it was a much needed change of scenery from the atrocious ship that carries our flag.” Crocodile scoffs, and you can’t tell if it’s to cover up a pleasurable sound or if it was the real reaction to the sentence. You wondered if Mihawk could pick up on the smell of sex, to you it was all you could smell.

“Why don’t we go to your ship if the only reason is a change of pace?”

“Because, unfortunately I don’t have an attractive little rabbit to bring me wine at the drop of a hat. So I believe I prefer it here”

“Too bad I don’t have a little rabbit to bring you wine either, a shame really.” You could practically picture his face, an eyebrow cocked, cigar held tightly between his teeth, his nose scrunched in disgust at the thought of Mihawk giving his property such a ill suited pet name. You continued to leave sloppy kisses to the underside of his cock, occasionally running your tongue along the crest just under his head, noticing the way it bobbed when you did.

“Where is she, I’d hate to leave without showing her how grateful I was for that wine to get me through a rather dull meeting.”

“I can pass the message along to her.” You had begun nipping at his heavy balls, your hand working his shaft without getting too close to the head, worried you might bump against the table and give yourself away.

“I’d prefer to see her myself.”

“I’m sure you would, but she’s busy.” You could hear the smirk on his face and the air grew thick with silent again. You assumed Mihawk was scanning the room, eventually noticing the pile of clothes next to Crocodile’s desk, piecing everything together rapidly. You wished you could see his expression, see how his ringed eyes widened for half a second before bringing his expression back to placid.

“I suppose I’ll leave you to it then.” The quiet footsteps retreated to the door before you heard the door close again.

Crocodile pushed his chair from the desk, giving you enough room to crawl out from your spot. Before he could try to speak you were swallowing his cock just how you had tried to before being shoved under the desk. You had barely been at it for 5 minutes and your jaw was already starting to get sore but you couldn’t stop. You stroked whatever you couldn't fit into your mouth, which was progressively getting less and less but you were interrupted by his hand pulling you up by your hair. “I don’t plan on wasting my seed in your mouth.” Which was his way of saying you were doing too good of a job.

“Did he know?” Your voice was a bit gravelly but as he pulled you upright by your hair he smiled.

“Would you like it if he had?” Your lack of an answer was all he needed. “Should I call him back to watch?” He pulled the cigar from his mouth, putting it in his ashtray again before standing up. “Get on the desk, princess. I’m gonna’ make it all up to you.” You leaned back against the edge of the desk, struggling slightly for a second before you were able to scoot back further, spreading your legs as you leaned back, being mindful of the newest stack of papers.

He dragged his hook up your stomach, circling your nipples with the curved part of his hook watching with a smirk at how you arched into his touch, catching your lip between your teeth to try and hold back your whines. He slowly stroked his cock with his other hand, watching how your chest rose and fell quickly as you tried to catch your breath but with no luck. “I bet you wish he could see you now, hm?” You tried to look away from him but he was quick to guide your face back towards him with his hook. “I bet you got so wet when he called you his little rabbit.” You shook your head weakly. “Would you prefer to be splayed out on his desk?” You shook your head again, more sure this time. “No?” His hook slid down your body again, the curved back sliding between your folds as you bucked up to chase the pressure.

“I don’t want to be with him.”

“Who do you want to be with?”

“You.” He hummed, his grip on his cock tightened and his strokes slowed to a near stop.

“And who’s cock do you want?”

“Your’s.”

“Show me how wet you are.” Holding yourself as steady as you could on one elbow you used your other hand to dive between your folds. If it was anyone else, you’d be embarrassed by how wet you were, your slick pooling around your worked open entrance, but you know Crocodile found you the most attractive when you were splayed open and sopping wet. You finger fucked your self for a second, trying to gather as much slick as you could before pulling your digits out, separating them so Crocodile could see your arousal webbed between them. “And who got you this wet?”

“You.” You were getting annoyed with his questions, you gaze struggling to meet his instead of looking down at his cock.

“Oh I’m sorry, am I bothering you?” There was irritation in his inflection, he took pressing into your chest to push you down flat against the desk.

“I-I just w-want you to fuck me.” He dragged his burning hot cock along your folds, watching it glide with extreamly ease through your slick but never pushing against your entrance, much to your frustration.

“You know giving me attitude isn’t how you get what you want, unless what you’re hoping for is more neglect.” He continued rubbing his cock between your folds, the sight of his size compared to you never ceased to concern you, despite having been fucked by him countless times you always had the concern of what if it doesn’t fit?

“Daddy please.” His hook slid down your body, wrapping around your left thigh to pull it open even more, pulling your foot up to perch on the edge of the desk for leverage. His other hand abandoned his cock to grab your right thigh and press it against your chest, giving him more control over you as he pressed his cock into you finally.

The stretch always burned, whether you hadn’t had sex in weeks or less than 24. For all Crocodile is, ruthless, greedy, cruel, he was extremely conscious of his size in comparison to yours. When you bared your teeth at the stretch he leaned over you, pausing halfway inside of you as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, shushing you. “You’re doing so good for me, just relax.” His voice was quiet, this tone was one reserved only for you.

“It’s b-been so long it hurt-s.” You pinched your eyes closed, feeling tears prick at the corners.

“I know princess, I know. Just relax and I’ll go real slow, we have all the time in the world.” His hand slipped between the two of you, rubbing gentle circles on your clit in hopes of getting you more wet and distracting you from the discomfort. “You’re such a good girl for daddy.” He pressed his hips into you again, slowly. You could feel every inch of him bully its way into your body until his head was pressed against your cervix, finally fully inside. “Look how good you’re doing, how’s that feel?” His forehead was pushed against your’s, his eyes glued to your expression, waiting for you to open your eyes. You could smell his smoke on his breath mixed with his expensive scent, you could feel his warm breath puff out over your face as you slowly opened your eyes. The first thing you saw was his scar, stretched over the bridge of his nose, then you finally met his grey eyes that were glued to you. “How’s it feel?” He repeated, this time a bit more stern.

“It’s getting better.” he hummed in acknowledgment.

“Suppose I should do something to distract you, what do you think?” You nodded, your doe eyes making him want to ravage you but he forced himself to hold back, admitting to himself that it had, in fact, been quite a while since you two had had sex and he knew his size was a struggle for someone half his size. “Lean back for me, baby girl.” He straightened up enough to prompt you to lay back, your hands out at your sides waiting for his next move.

With his cock still nestled inside your tight walls he leaned forward again, lips pressing kisses from your belly button to your clavicle, before branching off and trailing kisses to your nipple. You expected him to run his tongue over the hard bud, to tease you until you were writhing on the desk, but instead he sucked on it, drawing cries from your lips. He could feel you relax around him and all he wanted to do was throw your legs over his shoulders and fuck you so hard he would have to carry you everywhere with him. But he resisted. Upon instinct, hands grabbed his head keeping him close to your chest as he suckled. Your fingers carded through his slicked back hair, something you rarely ever got to do, especially not during sex. But you had been such a good girl, he would let you have this one.

“D-daddy I think-“ You got caught off by him pulling his cock out, not entirely but enough that a high pitched gasp slipped from your lips and cut your sentence off prematurely.

”What was that?” He released your nipple and pulled away from your skin, your arms opting to move to his neck rather than letting him go completely.

“I need you t-to move, p-please.” He obligated, slowly thrusting back into you, hoping you weren’t still uncomfortable but taking it slow on the off chance you were.

“How’s that feel, princess” You took a deep breath, your head lolling backwards.

”Feels so good, daddy, so good.”

“Doesn’t hurt anymore?” You shook your head, your arms slipping from around his neck as he stood up straight, pulling one of your legs over his shoulder, the other dangling limply off the desk. ”Good, now I want you to do something for me.” He leisurely fucked you, enjoying how your walls no longer resisted his intrusion.

“Anything.”

“I want you to be as loud as you want, let that pesky Mihawk know whose cock you want.” You loved when he was possessive of you, you wouldn’t have been all that surprised if he called Mihawk in to watch him fuck you, and frankly, you wouldn’t have protested that in the least. ”Think you can handle that?” You nodded, a breathy yes the only thing you could really manage. The small part of your brain that wasn’t lost in the pleasure of Crocodile’s cock finally fucking into you wondered if Mihawk really was still around, if he actually would hear you. But that part of your brain wasn’t able to function for much longer once you were put into a mating press.

Your moans flowered from your open mouth like the sound of rushing water from a river. He always tried to muffle his own sound, pressing his face into your neck when he felt his own peak rapidly approaching. “Fuck princess, never felt a cunt like yours.” The desk was shaking from his strength, the stack of papers beside you was beginning to shift.

“Croc-co, fuck it f-feels so good!” You wrapped your arms around his wide back, digging your nails into the expensive silk back of his vest. He was past the point of his toying, unable to put together a sentence the only sounds coming out of his mouth were animalistic grunts into your neck.

“Gonna’ fill you up so good, do you want that baby girl, do you want me to fill that greedy little cunt of yours?” You tried to speak but every time you opened your mouth all that came out were a slew of moans. His hand slid down your thigh and found its way to your clit, his thumb rubbing it in uneven circles as his cock pressed against your cervix repeatedly. “Are you going to cum?” He lifted his head from your neck so he could see you, see your cock drunk expression as you nodded. “Ask me for it.”

“D-daddy daddy please, please let me cum, I wanna cum around your cock!” Your words were sloppy and punctuated by moans but it seemed to appease him. His thrusts changed, his pace uneven and the force was enough to knock the stack of papers off the desk, not their either of you noticed.

He came first but the feeling of warmth that spread through you as he pressed the pad of his thumb against your clit was enough to force you over the edge seconds after. Your back arched off the table, your toes pointed and tensed around his shoulders. There was no doubt in your mind that if Mihawk were still aboard he was extremely aware of what was going on in this office.

Crocodile’s thrusts slowed until eventually he stilled. You were trying to catch your breath but it seemed impossible, especially with the weight of his entire body on top of you. You wanted to move, to pull your legs off his shoulders but you didn’t want to risk him getting up and going back to work. He didn’t stay on top of you for long, eventually straightening up and looking you up and down, all while his cock was still nestled between your walls.

He reached for his cigar, bringing it to his lips and pulling hard on it, hoping some of the embers would flare to life again. He guided your legs off his shoulders, pressing a kiss to your ankles as he did so. As he pulled his cock from your cunt slowly, he watched as his cum began to work its way out of you. Idolly as he stood over you, cigar in his mouth he ran his big fingers in the milky liquid that was cascading from your fucked hole, almost trying to push it back into you.

You still were out of it, your hips bucking from overstimulation anytime he grazed your clit. “Do you feel better, baby?” He wiped his fingers on your thigh before cupping your cheek, pulling your unfocused gaze to him. You blinked a few times, trying to unblur your eyes as you nodded.

“I think I may need you to carry me to bed.” He chuckled, stepping away from you for the first time since you had come over to his desk. He picked up your discarded clothes before returning to his spot between your legs, taking a second to stuff his cock back into his slacks and do them up again. Carefully and with great care he guided you into a sitting position and helped you pull your dress over your head, leaving your panties, bra and socks on his desk before picking you up bridal style. You leaned against his chest as he carried you out of the office, the steady sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

Sleep that you were quickly pulled from. “I take it the second stack of papers has yet to be looked at?” You heard the faint sound of a wine glass being placed on the board room table as you passed by the open doors. Crocodile paused in the doorway, turning to look at him for a second before smirking,

“Let me put my little rabbit to bed then I’ll go look at them.”

[sonotpattismith]

YOURE WRITING IS LIT AMAZING OMG- I had an idea: Sukuna switching in and telling u yuji likes you (romanticly and sexually) and eventually switching back and the aftermath…. 🙏🙏🙏

Forgive Me for Whatever I Do (Yuji Itadori x Reader)

word count: 4.9k warnings: a teeny bit dark, angst, suggestive content, 18+ a/n: y'all, I think I kind of altered what the original vibe was meant to be for this request, but I am apparently physically incapable of not making a fic angsty, I'm SORRY. Also, this was a bit inspired by Remember You by Dominurmom, link if you wanna listen cause it makes me cry. I hope you all enjoy and please remember my requests are always open! 🥹🫶🏻

Friends. It was a good word-- a safe word. It was one you had found solace in hiding behind for years. How could you dare risk the beautiful ebb and flow you had found within the days of while you’d experienced with your best friend? No matter the pools of warmth that engulfed your chest with each glittery-eyed smile-- no matter how the both of you had always found your way back to each other whether rain or sunshine-- no matter how much you loved Yuji Itadori. Friends; it was a safe space. 

There was a time when you wanted something more. It was so early on, before you were too scared to lose him yet. When you two had first met, you felt undeniably pulled toward the bright-eyed and charismatic boy. Both of your lives had been overwhelmingly and newly hectic, what with your being thrust into a life of curses and sacrifice. Similarly, Yuji was still coping with the abrupt weight of managing the demon he now shared a body with. It was never the right time. 

So, your timid glances and blushing compliments soon turned into confiding conversations and fierce loyalty. You two fell into the gentle and safe rhythm of a blossoming friendship. Of course, deep down within the confines of your cowardly hearts, you were always drawn to one another. There was always a hope, never communicated, that maybe once your lives found a peaceful medium, you two would no longer need to hide behind the solace of friends.

This certainly wasn’t how you wanted it to happen. 

Yuji had always made it appoint to keep you and Sukuna at opposite ends of his world, in all senses of the phrase. He barely spoke of him to you at all, in fact. It was actually something you argued often with him about, worried about the impacts of keeping that kind of burden locked away would have on him. In typical Itadori fashion though, he wouldn’t even entertain the notion of an argument with you. No, he’d just squint his honey-brown eyes, and flash that bashful smile to you, a half-assed excuse about why it wasn’t that big of a deal falling easily from his lips. 

The truth was though, it was a big deal to him-- a massive one, in fact. After having already witnessed what that counterpart of his could do, the havok it could ensue on those important to him-- nothing scared him more than the prospect of you coming face to face with Sukuna. Yuji felt this fear so much so that he spared you the details. He didn’t want you to think of him in such a way, to know that any part of him was capable of such atrocities. Yes, he’d bear it all if it meant none of it touched you. 

So, when he felt his own body deteriorating rapidly in tandem with the whaling blows of cursed energy courtesy of the special grade the two of you had been cornered by, the thought flickered in the back of his head. Heaving out a pained groan, Yuji’s gaze found yours, and he pushed it back down. But you screamed. You screamed, and he couldn’t help you-- he couldn’t move. You screamed, and he was trapped beneath the concrete pillar that had fallen so unceremoniously over his heaving chest. You screamed, and suddenly, it was his only option. 

“Sukuna!”

The King of Curses was not one for favors, especially not for the brat that held him hostage in what was meant to be his vessel. He assessed the situation before him-- the one he’d been watching intently from the safety of his own shrine. Through his insolent vessel’s eyes, he could only see you. It was all the brat would look at, you were all he ever looked at. Whether it be the back of your head, hair swaying gently as you’d turn to smile at him, and Sukuna would always feel the boy’s heart clench fouly at the sight. On some occasions, you’d be looking right at him, your eyes with stars behind them, and the demon wanted nothing more than to rip them right from their sockets simply for the way his vessel would tremble under your gaze.

Pathetic. 

Maybe if the brat had been looking toward something else for once, they wouldn’t have been in this predicament. But he was racing toward you at every chance he got, taking blows that were meant for you, countering attacks that you had antagonized. He couldn’t understand how someone could be so weak.

So, he laughed. In the back of Itadori’s frenzied mind, Sukuna cackled at him. The boy whispered a plea, tears stinging his eyes as he watched you stumble to your feet in a grave attempt to escape the repeated blows being landed on you. 

“Anything, I’ll do anything, please!”

The demon liked the sound of that. Yuji could feel the control slipping away from him, his consciousness being sucked up by the all consuming darkness lurking within. For just a moment, he fought against it, staring up at you in an almost drunken haze. 

“I’m sorry. Please,” He called out to you, voice hoarse and morphing into one you didn’t recognize. “Just look away.”

In mere seconds, the boy you loved was shifting before your eyes. His features were sharpening; sinister, black marks pooling onto his skin like ink. The second set of eyes below his own snapped open, and they were looking right at you. Maybe, Sukuna thought, if he saw it for himself he’d understand, without the barrier of this boy’s soul in the way. Still, as he stared into your fearful eyes, he felt nothing but indifference-- no-- disgust. 

Jagged chunks of concrete rubble sliced through the air around you, knocking into your already weak body, some even slicing through the special grade in front of you. Blinking back the dust that invaded your sight, when your eyes opened again, the curse was desecrated; an explosion of grotesque, purple evidence of what it once was. 

Sukuna didn’t care to save you. What enticed him more for the approximate two minutes he had left in control of this body, was breaking down the brat a little. In all fairness, when you stood there so helplessly, so vulnerable with eyes full of fear before him, how could he resist? His impossibly sharp teeth flashed under the moon’s light as he stepped toward you, torn shirt hanging loosely off his shoulder and chest. 

You wanted to apologize to Yuji, to tell him that you tried to look away like he’d asked. It wasn’t a fair request though. No, not when your best friend, the boy you loved, was being held hostage. You feared if you looked away he might do something awful to him-- unaware of what lurked in the dark chasm of his thusfar imprisoned mind. 

“I’ve gotta say,” Sukuna’s gravelly voice reached your ears. It didn’t hold that playfully boyish cadence you had come to love. In its place was one that mocked you, laughing boisterously in the face of your trembling fear and anticipation of what he’d do next. “In the flesh, you’re pretty underwhelming.”

You gulped down the bile that threatened to rise from your stomach. Still crumpled on the ground from the last hit you’d taken, you weren’t sure if you should attempt to stand; unsure if he’d find that acceptable. Sukuna tilted his head at your silence, taking two slow and calculated steps forward. 

“Disgusting.” He spat suddenly, gripping you by your elbow to haul you up. You yelped in surprise, trying not to shed the tears that welled in your eyes at the sting of his nails against your skin. “This brat spends day in and day out allowing himself to be consumed. And for this?”

Your brows furrowed at his words, and you pulled against his grip. 

“Give him back.” You gritted through your teeth, fear igniting your body in tremors. 

Sukuna’s red eyes, all four of them, lit up sinsiterly, grin widening in a manner that appeared painful. You realized for that split second that he likely didn’t have much time at all to wreak havoc, and he was enjoying this. He wanted to hurt you-- to hurt Yuji, even with the limited scope of his abilities at the moment. 

“How romantic.” He cooed mockingly. His hand came up to grasp your jaw, forcing you to look into the eyes of your best friend, but he wasn’t there. Your stray tear betrayed you, slipping down your mangled cheek. Leaning forward with gusto, he licked a debauched stripe up the path your traitorous tear had taken, cackling madly as the salt tainted his tongue. Pushing you back a bit, his voice was suddenly booming, cracking at your abused eardrums with fervor. “All day!”

You tried to keep your face neutral, to be unwilling to give up the shred of dignity you had left-- for Yuji. 

“All day this brat pines and trembles and burns with the thought of you-- pathetic!”

For a moment, you felt your heart stop at his words. Surely he wasn’t implying that Yuji, even in the slightest sense, saw past more than just your friendship. You knew you shouldn’t. It wasn’t him, but your lips were moving to a different rhythm than your mind was, and you were whispering to him in hushed bewilderment, 

“What?”

“And you’re so stupidly oblivious, too? How revolting.” Despite his disgusted words, the baleful smile on his face grew that much wilder. It struck you then, how much you had disconnected yourself from the fact that the body before you, holding your body weight up with a deafening grip on your jaw, was Yuji. You didn’t see him. When you looked at that pink hair and felt the familiar curves of his hands, he wasn’t your best friend. “I suppose you’re not the only ignorant one. I can practically feel the way your weak little heart pounds everytime that brat looks at you.”

Your cheeks were burning at this point, and if he couldn’t see it in the dim moonlight, he could surely feel the heat under his mean fingers. Blinking away your tears, you willed your lip to stop trembling. 

“He doesn’t know it, you know.” Sukuna chuckled, spurred on by your painful silence. “I spend all day having to listen to him whine about his unreciprocated, little love-sick infatuation.”

It was making your stomach churn, the way he was turning your feelings for one another, ones that you were only now becoming privy to, into something so revolting. The words falling from his lips were ones you prayed so long to hear. You had spent so many sleepless nights staring back at your best friend where he laid sprawled out on the other side of your bed, both of you too traumatized from the day’s monstrosities to sleep alone-- to leave each other. This isn’t how you wanted to find out though. 

Amongst the desecration of your normal lives, you wanted to grasp onto the hope of innocence, of pure and untouched love and fondness. You hoped for bashful confessions and spontaneous kisses, ones that were purely Yuji’s intent. Sukuna was snatching the opportunity right from beneath you two, and he knew it. 

You shook your head, or tried to with the grip that was forcing your gaze on him. 

“My days are filled with his insolent whining, and I don’t find solace at night either.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think by the eager way he was spilling these thoughts out to you that he was happy to spend his fortitude in such a manner. You did know better though, and you knew what he enjoyed was the chance of domestic normalcy he was ripping away from the boy that held him hostage. “No, he touches himself at night.”

“Stop it.” You spat, unable to hold back the dam of your tears any longer. They spilled freely down your cheeks, and you swore you could see his red eyes roll into the back of his head. Your weak hands came up in a desperate attempt to shield your ears from the intimate secrets Yuji likely never intended for you to hear-- not like this anyway. The hand that held your jaw quickly fell, and he laced his fingers through yours mockingly, forcing you to listen. 

“That brat thinks of you all night when he’s beating himself off like the degenerate he is. Sometimes he calls out your name too, when he--”

You couldn’t take it anymore, feeling as though you might throw up. Above all else, your heart ached for Yuji, and you wondered if he could hear what was going on, if he was clawing his way out. You wanted to apologize to him, tell him you never meant to find out this way. You wished you could forget.

“Yuji!” 

Your cry made the demon smile, but it quickly faded with a knowing furrow of his brows. Eyes drooping lazily as he looked toward you, he shook his head. The marks on his face were slowly absorbing back into his skin. His upper lip curled in disgust. 

“Pathetic.”

In an instant, he was falling to the floor limply, bringing you down with him. When you looked up in a frenzied haze at the head that fell onto your chest, you noted with relief that it was Yuji again. His eyes fluttered open deliriously, taking in his surroundings. Looking up, he was met by your grief-stricken expression, fresh tears clinging to your face. His freshly healed arms were pulling himself up clumsily, hovering over you in a way that made it obvious that fear was gripping at every nerve in his body. 

“What— what did he do? Are you okay?” 

It was Sukuna’s very intention, the manner in which you had no choice but to see Yuji so differently now. As he hovered over you, unintentionally entrapping you under his tensing arms and bare chest, you couldn’t help but blush as the curse’s words rang in your mind. The thought of the boy you’d dreamt about for so long thinking of you in such a way, touching himself to the thought of you, longing for you-- and he was right there within your reach. 

“You… you don’t remember?” You whispered, trying to calm your racing heart. 

Yuji quickly shook his head, his comforting brown eyes tracing down your body as if to assess the damages. When his hands molded around your waist to pull your shirt up, the one that was slowly flooding through with blood from the gash on your side, you gasped and flinched away. He gulped back his nausea at the racing thoughts of what Sukuna could have done to you to warrant such a response. His hands reeled back to his sides, and he sat back on his knees. 

“I got pretty messed up back there… I think I was still healing.” he explained slowly, wanting so badly to help you, but unsure of how you viewed him now-- how scared you were of him. What he didn’t know was that you weren’t scared of him, not at all. In fact, you wanted to pull him in, hold him close, tell him that you’ve loved him all this time as well. It should have been an idyllic occasion. In the back of your mind though, you knew if Yuji hadn’t confessed to you himself already then there was likely a reason, and you shouldn’t force the decision onto him just because the curse residing in him ripped away the layers of protection that shrouded those feelings. “Please, I’m sorry. What did he do to you?”

He didn’t remember, and maybe it was better that way. At least one of you could be spared the humiliation. It took some time, but you had convinced Yuji that you were simply shaken up from the fight, though you felt he still wasn’t entirely convinced. His movements were painfully careful as he carried you to safety. It was so clear in the way he touched you with such delicacy, that he feared scaring you more than he thought he already had. 

You stared up at the ceiling that night, tears clouding your vision as you toyed with the edge of the gauze that wrapped your abdomen. In all the time you two had known each other, you couldn’t wrap your head around why he was so scared of opening up to you about the monster he shared a body with. Countless nights you’d spent after missions, as he stared unblinkingly at a wall, begging him to confide in you. In just under five minutes with the thing though, you understood the cruelty he was trying to protect you from. 

There was a soft knock on your door, and you lifted your head up as it slid open. Yuji stood tentatively at the entrance, looking like the absolute picture of health compared to your mangled self. He was scratching at the back of his head awkwardly, a little quirk you’d grown to love, much like everything else about him. Flashing you his attempt at a bashful smile, he tilted his head at you. 

“Thought you could use some company.” He offered. It was somewhat of a routine of yours to meet together after a particularly grueling mission. The two of you would lay in bed, facing each other with moronic smiles on your lips as you talked about everything-- everything but the horrors you’d witnessed. It was the only way you could find yourself calm enough to fall asleep. If you two talked each other’s ears off about the comparable strength of two manga characters, or argued halfheartedly over what was the superior horror movie in your already trash-fire line up, if you distracted one another line by line-- the two of you would forget about what you saw. Just long enough to allow your eyes to forcefully drift in exhaustion. 

Now though, as he stared undecisively at you, you could tell he wasn’t sure if he would still be allowed such privileges. Despite being lost in the labyrinth of your own mind over the night’s events-- over him-- you smiled softly for his sake and patted the spot beside you. Your breath hitched as he eagerly closed the door behind him and climbed into bed beside you. His sigh of relief fanned over the side of your face despite his attempt at concealing it. You felt his eyes on you, his body already on its side and facing you, awaiting for you to do the same. 

“Oh, your side.” Yuji sighed in ackowledgement, and you simply nodded in agreement, not wanting to reveal that you simply couldn’t look him in the eyes without bursting on the spot. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as he reached out to softly graze his hand over the wounded area. The boy saw the way your breath hitched and your expression shifted, slowly retracting his hand. “Listen, I’m sorry for whatever happened back there. Please, look at me.”

A little piece of your heart broke off at the pained desperation in his tone. Blinking back the tears that threatened to form, you turned your head to the side to look in his wide, distraught eyes. Softening your gaze, you struggled against your pain as you forced yourself on your side to face him. 

“No, Yuji, it’s okay--”

“No it’s not!” In an instant, he was sitting up, looking down at you as his chest heaved with purposeful breaths. “He’s taken everything from me, and I…”

His shoulders slumped, and a rosy tint rushed to his cheeks. 

“I won’t let him take you too-- I can’t. So, please, just tell me what I have to do to make you not scared of me anymore, and I’ll do it, okay? I’ll do anything.”

Unable to take it anymore, you moved to sit up with a grunt. Yuji’s hands quickly shot out to help you until you were facing him. He looked back at you with such conviction, such longing in his gaze, and, with hindsight bias, you wondered how you never saw it sooner. 

“You’re my best friend, Yuji… I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Then why can’t you look me in the eyes?”

You pursed your lips, tentatively taking his hands into yours to hold them between you two. His breath hitched ever so slightly at the connection. Scraping your thumb over his knuckle absentmindedly in a manner that was scrambling his brain like eggs, you thought carefully on your next words. 

“You don’t think anything could ruin our friendship… right?” You asked timidly, eyes meeting his through your lashes. His brows furrowed at your question, and he found himself leaning forward to gaze into you sincerely, shaking his head quickly. 

“Nothing. Don’t you think we’ve been through too much together already? You’re kinda stuck with me.”

The hesitantly joking tone in his voice made you smile softly. Yuji had a way of easing your anxiety that way, as if there was a little door in your mind that only he had the key to open up and gaze into whenever he pleased. It gave you more confidence to continue your pursuit.. 

“And there aren’t any secrets between us? Nothing you’ve… not told me?”

Gulping thickly, he felt his face pale. There was something he was keeping from you, something he had come to terms with being content with if it meant he’d never put your relationship in jeopardy. An attempted smile broke into his face, but the corners of his lips were twitching anxiously. You could have melted at the sight. 

 “Uh… no. You know I tell you everything.” The lie stumbled from his lips unconvincingly. Your lips set into a firm line as you shot him a knowing yet playful look. Suddenly, his eyes were darting everywhere but you. They were at your hands, on your nose, on the ceiling, anywhere that would allow him to gather his thoughts. “Is this about the dent in your bathroom wall? Cause I promise I have a good explaination, a-and I was going to tell you, but you were already upset about the--”

“I love you.” It fell from your lips, permanent, unable to be drawn back in. In truth, the both of you could have died that night. Yuji was practically pinned under a building, and you had been face to face with the king of curses. The sentiment of either of you dying without having heard the depths of your feelings for one another was not lost on you. The lifestyles you led were perilous, self-sacrificing, and morbid. You already lived in fear that your next mission would be your last, and, as you were blanketed by the comfort brought upon by the proximity of the boy you loved so dearly, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel this type of fear too. Not for Yuji. 

“Take it back.”

Okay, maybe his blunt order hurt more than the boulder that flew into your side earlier, but you still stood by what you said. A small, breathless gasp fell from your lips as you stared at his solemn expression. 

“Oh,” you muttered out meekly, and, despite your burning embarrassment, you couldn’t tear your eyes from his. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“I wanted to say it to you first.” He reiterated, his lips pulled to the side in frustration, eyebrows furrowed as he regarded you. “I spent years thinking of what I wanted to say to you. Take it back.” 

Relief flooded your system like a drug, flowing through your veins and relaxing your constricting muscles. In its place came a bashful flush at his words. Smiling softly in disbelief, you shook your head a bit.

“Okay,” you drew out slowly, watching him square his muscles back as if preparing for his line. “I take it back.” 

Despite his previous determination and insistence that he had something profound to say, all he could do was lean forward to press his lips against yours clumsily. He couldn’t help himself, not with the way your twinkling eyes stared up at him expectantly, glimmering with an excitement he felt he was alone with for years. A muffled huff of surprise from you was swallowed right up by his eager lips as he lunged forward to deepen the connection he’d just forged. 

“‘M sorry,” Yuji mumbled against your mouth, reaching up to grip at the side of your face as if you’d ever run from him. “Know I talked all that shit, but I forgot what I was gonna say. I love you. I just love you. I’ve always loved you.”

He didn’t allow you any room for a response because his desperate push against your lips had you leaning back to accommodate the sudden weight, and you fell back against your pillow. The boy eagerly chased you, crawling over your panting form to pour out all the soliloquies he longed to spill out to you with some semblance of eloquence, he wanted it all conveyed to you through his frenzied devouring of you. 

Your mind was reeling with his sudden urgency, and you quickly came to the realization that the both of you had been living with this fear of passing one another up. Your hand snaked up to run along his chest, daring to explore up his neck and into the tufts of his pink hair. A soft moan of your name had you blushing profusely, suddenly remembering what Sukuna had told you about the extent of Yuji’s desires for you. You wondered if this was what he sounded like when he called out to you at night with his hands wrapped around himself. Squinting your eyes, you willed your imagination to take a quick u-turn, remembering that that wasn’t information Yuji had given up willingly. 

“Say it back.” Yuji suddenly demanded, finally tearing away from his assault on your lips to stare down at you determinedly. “Say it again.” 

Your free hand came up to cup his cheek. There was so much fear and guilt and sadness pent up in your chest at the prospect of what Sukuna had taken from him that night. It had never been like you to lie to him or keep things from him. As your thumb ran across his bottom lip lovingly, and he looked so accomplished, so content with how this night had somehow progressed in his favor, you realized that the curse hadn’t taken anything from him. Not when you were there to make sure that kind of hatred never touched him. 

“I love you too, Yuji.” 

His wide, boyish grin lit up the dim room. Swinging back down with fervor, the two of you laughed against each other as your teeth clashed messily. Humming contentedly, his wandering hands traveled down your side and snuck up your shirt. God, he’d dreamed of this for so long, and you were right there- underneath of him and pliable to his every touch. He knew he was getting ahead of himself, he could feel it in the way his boxers tightened uncomfortably against him, but he feared he may wake up at any second back in his dorm room alone, like he had so many times following his messianic dreams about what it may be like to have you. 

As his fingers creeped up, you flinched against his fervent grasp that lit your wounded side ablaze. Yuji was suddenly reminded of the night’s events, and he cursed quietly before reluctantly pulling away from you. Looking down at your flushed cheeks and swollen lips, an unbrittled exhilaration swirled in his chest. There would be so many more nights with you, he would make sure of it. He leaned forward to press a last, longing and solemn kiss against your forehead-- a promise that you two would come back to this. 

Carefully, he pulled his grasp away from your wounded side and settled down beside you. Unlike those countless nights the two of you shared a bed, Yuji laid snuggly against you, locking your knees under his strong legs. With his head propped up on his elbow, he beamed down at you, lovestruck as he affectionately tugged your shirt back down. As his fingers lingered against the protruding gauze, his expression creased a bit.

“You… you never told me what Sukuna did.”

Although he hated that he felt the need to ruin the moment with such dark thoughts, no amount of lust could have driven that fear from the back of his mind. Your smile faltered marginally at his words. Thinking of how excited he was to confess to you, and how ardently he fell into this new role so comfortably with you, exploring you with an innocence that was a stark contrast to the dark world you two traversed, you shook your head. Leaning up to press an assuring kiss to his cheek, you looked right at the slits under his eyes, as if daring the curse to acknowledge you. 

“He didn’t do a damn thing.”

masterlist.

[raymantogether]

Rayman Together Community Spotlight #3 - Clairiphi

Rayman Together Community Spotlight #3 - Clairiphi

Introduction:

Have you ever made your own Rayman comic book series? Growing up, I spent thousands of hours outside of playing the Rayman series creating comics and drawings, making my own adventures for Rayman and his friends. However, I never could create something as captivating and truly unique as the Rayman Nightmarish Series. Rayman Nightmarish stole my heart and is something that I have followed since 2020. Every few weeks to months, I eagerly anticipate the next chapter. There is something so personal about the art style and original characters, which I fell in love with. Every strip is full of personality and charm. I had the pleasure of meeting Clairiphi, AKA Chiara, during my visit to Ubisoft Milan. In person, Chiara is just as amazing as her series. So when I decided to make this Community Spotlight Series, I just had to make a segment on Chiara and her Rayman Nightmarish series.

1. Please introduce yourself.

"My name is Chiara; I go by Clairiphi on the web, and I'm a storyteller from Sardinia (Italy) who dabbles into drawing to accompany her stories. I hope one day, not too far from now, to become a professional comic writer if the comic industry in Europe gives me the chance. For now, I sadly remain an enthusiastic hobbyist."

2. What are you currently working on in the Rayman Community? 

"I’ve been publishing my fan comic Rayman Nightmarish for a few years with the frequent help of my partner Francesco (@thepinna on Instagram and Cara), who is a professional illustrator and studied as a comic artist as well. Without his teaching, I would be nowhere near where I am with my skill level. He taught me how to storyboard, how to efficiently use a drawing tablet, and helped me train my writing skills. He also offers his direct artistic input from time to time, when work hours permit him (for example, while I did the storyboards and pencil sketches for chapter 11, he did inks and colors)."

3. What is your inspiration behind Rayman Nightmarish?

"One December evening I was particularly bored and haven’t been writing since the beginning of high school, but that evening I was coming from a long period of frustration regarding the school path I chose, and coincidentally, I was also back on my Rayman obsession because I was playing Legends and Origins. I had this fairy character (Waaty) and a horrific, almost lovecraftian villain (The Lighteater) in mind for a while, and all of a sudden I said, “You know what? Let’s stop daydreaming and write an actual story!” I took a huge empty notebook from my desk drawer, and a bunch of years later, here we are!"

4. For any newcomers, what is the story of Rayman Nightmarish about?

"With Rayman Nightmarish, I aimed to narrate a classic Rayman adventure, with the humor, the combats, the voyage across fantastical places... And zombies! Yeah, I love horror, and of course there was going to be a twist. But no worries! This is still a story for all ages, like Rayman always was after all.  An ancient evil called The Lighteater is rising from the depths of the sea and is going to bring a dark plague that will soon turn The Glade of Dreams into The Glade of Nightmares. Of course it is Rayman's job to save the day once again, with the help of Globox and a few unexpected friends, like Waaty, the livid dead fairy with strange clairvoyant abilities...and many others along the way! Will he be able to do it this time? Very likely knowing his records, but this could actually be more challenging than he thought."

5. Is there anything new or unreleased you can share?

"I’ve actually been working on a new original fantasy series for a while. The story is already all planned, I'm in love with the characters and every process I came across during the planning of the plot. I hope with all my heart that I'll be able to bring it to life, not as a webcomic but as a fool-blown series for comic stores’ shelves."

6. What made you fall in love with the Rayman series?

"When I was a little girl, I didn’t have much social skills, and my first ever playmate, before my brother was born, was my dear cousin, who one day came to me with a copy of Rayman 3; his parents got him somewhere during a trip. That game changed my brain chemistry because as soon as I saw the fairy council level, I was hypnotized, and I wasn’t even the one playing! The music, the scenery, the jokes—I don’t know, but every time we played it, I came home wishing I was still in that world. Then a few years later, my cousin got a PS3 and gave me and my brother his PS2, Rayman Raving Rabbids, and Rayman 3. I was so happy! My first ever “comic” was a very cringy Rayman fanfiction I wrote in middle school, kind of an ancestor of Rayman Nightmarish in a way, haha! I thank my cousin every day for showing me that game that evening, and if he were still here today, I bet he would think Rayman Nightmarish looks pretty sick (especially in comparison to his middle school predecessor)."

7. What is your favorite Rayman game?

"I think it’s pretty clear by now that it’s Rayman 3 since it comes with so many dear memories, but I really liked playing both Origins and Legends in co-op with my brother when they came out. They were really fun to play with others! While I’ve always considered Rayman 3 like an intimate journey to take alone in a fantasy world, as silly as it sounds. Haha!"

8. Who is your favorite Rayman character?

"I’m going to be very unoriginal and say it’s Rayman because it’s true."

9. Tell us about your time at Ubisoft Milan.

"It was better than Disneyland! I felt like a kid again being able to hang out with a team of professionals behind a whole videogame. Not only was I happy, I felt seen, like, “Woah! These guys know I exist and even asked me to come here, hello???” Pretty surreal experience!"

10. Other than playing Rayman, what are your favorite things to do?

"I’m going to be completely honest; I haven’t been playing a Rayman game since the dawn of time. Haha! Back when I was a little girl, I wasn't much of a gamer and only played Rayman games because I didn’t care for the others. Now I love my switch, and I found many more games I love to spend time with. Rayman still has a special place in my heart, because it’s thanks to it that I found out I was actually meant for writing stories. Two of my other favorite things to do (besides writing and drawing, which are obvious) are reading books and watching movies, and in both cases, my favorite genre is horror. I also like to play fantasy TTRPG games like D&D or Pathfinder from time to time; they are very stimulating for the imagination."

11. Tell us something interesting or funny about yourself that we might not already know. 

"I’ve actually graduated (both bachelor’s and master’s degree) from a music conservatory in classical piano and never taken a single class in any art school. Sometimes I feel stupid about my past choices, and sometimes I’m glad because learning to play an instrument on a professional level has helped me build discipline and time management skills that helped me greatly in the writing process."

12. Do you have any hidden talents?

"I don’t know much about "talent,” but I do love to sing in my car, and I can memorize the entire script of a movie if I like it a lot. Haha! I remember when I was in elementary school, I used to recite Madagascar to myself when it was past bedtime, but I didn’t want to sleep."

13. What is one thing you can’t live without?

"Besides my air conditioner, I think I would go insane if something happened to any of my writing devices. I keep all my notes scattered between my computer, my iPad, and many physical journals. While clouds are essential, sometimes I just need an actual piece of paper and a pencil to figure out a scene or a plot point."

Want to discover more about the Rayman Nightmarish series? This is my link tree where new readers can find the best social media platforms to either catch up with the story or stay tuned for any exciting news:

[afreakingdork]

You Are My Sunshine, My Only Moonshine - Chapter 13

RotTMNT x Reader

I'm not gonna lie, I'm obsessed with this week's chapter art by @birdsnout I MEAN LOOK AT THEM

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Michelangelo (TMNT)/Reader, Michelangelo (TMNT)/You, Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Donatello (TMNT)/You

Warnings: POV Second Person, Gender Neutral Reader, Anxious Reader, Introverted Reader, Stuttering, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Romance, Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Unrequited Love, Rejection, Aromantic Asexual Michelangelo (TMNT), Bisexual Donatello (TMNT), Pansexual Leonardo (TMNT), Lesbian Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit, Demisexual April O'Neil (TMNT), Implied Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit/April O'Neil/Sunita, Endgame Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Romantic Love, Platonic Love, Panic Attacks, Sexuality Crisis, Agoraphobia, Social Anxiety, Happy Ending, Fluff

Synopsis:  You’ve lost most of your life to anxiety and fear. Now, in your late 20s, you are desperate to reclaim it and during one such outing you encounter the sun personified. With his and his similarly celestially inspired family, will you finally reach your goal or will you lose yourself along the way?

Also available on Ao3

First 💛 Previous

Trigger Warning: The following chapter contains a depiction of assault. There are mentions of bloody injury, a knife, and needles. Please be aware and keep yourselves safe.

You were getting closer to Mikey. It was a day by day evolution and something you deeply enjoyed. He’d given you so much and yet continued to enrich your life. In some ways you thought you’d never be able to repay him and in others you were crushed by crippling guilt because of all the ways your relationship flower bed blossomed from Mikey’s tending sun, there was also an incessant weed that grew back every time you picked it: your damned crush on Donnie. 

Your budding feelings were painfully incessant. Upon first glance you thought they would only be one-sided, but it was hard to deny how Donnie acted. While his exact words had been about how he thought your touch was inoffensive, he also clearly found you interesting. Though there had been no more larger encounters, it felt like you had an inside joke with the purple brother. You had since sought each other’s eyes during dozens conversations with others and much was said with singular looks. It was an obvious form of flirting that percolated the cauldron in your chest and sent you in a completely different direction. 

Instead of dealing with one aggravation, you prepared for another. The mess of it all was it was occurring simultaneously. The talk with Donatello at the ice rink had reinforced your fleeting feelings for him. It had also opened up new territory with Mikey. Not because you sat with him after his concussion, but because you’d learned more about the Hamato’s trauma regarding the Krang. For Leo and Raph the sparse information you had learned felt more like peaks into the others psyche, but with Mikey it felt like betrayal. Mikey’s story was his own and he seemingly had already shared all he wanted on the matter regarding his tremors. You finding out more detail about it from someone that wasn’t him was prying in your eyes. Though you knew it was a form of procrastination on your crush, you had to relieve at least one guilt from your conscience or you weren’t going to make it.

You relied on your growing faith in your friend. While it had come at clawing expense, you felt as though there was enough trust built between you and Mikey that you could approach the topic without destroying your friendship. It spoke both to his actions and your growth. You were still timid so it was one afternoon during the lull of a hangout that you asked Mikey about the Krang. With a faraway smile, he shared his experience. 

His version came with far more detail than Donnie’s. They were different lenses on the same event and Mikey spared no expense. The time on the ship was one thing, but your friend’s journey began from when he ripped through reality. He spoke of lengthy bouts of depression with a contrasting lightheartedness that would have been a red flag if said by anyone other than him. In his eyes, struggle was a stepping stone in one’s path. He was shaped by it and many other trials, which he expounded on in his carefree manner.

You were left sick with sympathy pain and thanked him. He’d bumped shoulders with you, an act he was preferring more and more, and said it was nice to talk about it with someone who wasn’t ready to jump over the table to help him like he was still an invalid. You paled at the thought and he disarmed your anxiety by saying you took knowledge of his trauma better than you did trying to talk to a waitress. You sported puffed cheeks as he teased you about your faint heart and with that you understood a very large piece of Mikey’s past.

You loved him.

It was a revelation that hadn’t come from that conversation, but one of the next. Things were never so linear when it came to Michelangelo. You selfishly asking about the Krang had marked a paradigm shift. By asking him to divulge, you had inadvertently signaled Mikey of your growing strength and feelings of safety with him. He took your questioning as a step in both your solemn and combined journeys and with it he pressed for more.  

He asked you out to a bar which Mikey had categorized as a level five event. Akining it to a hurricane, it marked one of the first times that he promised he wasn’t going to leave your side and you believed him. He had never cared to chart or graph your progress and instead chose the liminal space of feeling out when you were ready to push your anxieties. He’d turned to you with severity and said it was time to crank it up a notch. You would meet up for drinks on the peak hours on a Friday and you would have one week to prepare.

It was marked by further milestones. You and Mikey went out the preceding Sunday morning to pick out new outfits. Mikey invited you over to his workplace after hours on a Tuesday so you could meet the sommelier who used to be a bartender and discussed drink options. You asked to meet for lunch on Thursday at a place just down the street from the bar and Mikey had cordially walked you by the closed business more than once to scope it out. It was all little steps to help you prepare for the onslaught.

When it came, it was as expected. It was loud. People jockeyed for the bartender’s attention. You couldn’t believe how the employees could not only keep track of drinks and tabs, but also make anything from a menu that didn’t seem to exist without so much as a recipe. Meanwhile, you could barely remember what drink you had pre-planned to get.

Mikey acted as a tacky barrier, but he could only shield so much of you. Patrons bumped you and you hung your head trying to block out the booming music while a cacophony of voices threatened to swallow you up. Eyes unfocused as the bartender asked you a second time for your drink order, you heard Mikey say the first syllable of it before you squeaked it out. The employee was off and you shrank, wanting to hide beneath the sticky wooden surface of the bar.

There was a bathroom here somewhere.

That might be a good hovel.

Or better yet, you could dive into the dumpster out back.

That was where you belonged.

Mikey had slipped an arm around you to grab the bar without fear of what reside it would leave on his hands. He kept the threading near your body modest and left space for you to freely turn. It brought your gaze up to him where he smiled genially and gestured to the counter. Looking there, two drinks sat, his and yours, and he picked his up to toast. You slipped yours from the dainty napkin it was sat upon and he tipped his glass with a smile.

“I’m proud of you.”

He’d clinked to that and you nearly sobbed on the spot.

Heart swelling to a painful degree, it was the moment you realized the depth of your love. Immediately struck with fear by it, you’d chugged half your drink and then soured. He laughed and his arm jostled you as a connection point through which you could feel every bit of his happiness. You thought his joy might overwhelm you, but you found yourself inoculated. You had spent months adjusting to his light and now you could take a straight shot of liquid sunshine as if it were courage.

From setting your glass back down on its square throne, you had the berth to examine. It might not have been the love he wanted, but it was one you relished in. It carried with it trust and faith. You had once worshiped the sun and you weren’t sure when that point that had shifted. You still considered Mikey benevolent, as you imagined you always would, but it was clear now that he was also someone tangible. He wasn’t millions of miles away and hung in the sky. He was your dear friend and he had journeyed the distance to meet you.

This was a culmination.

You loved him. 

He was still authentically him, but he could better use his attention. You didn’t have to fight for him to look at you and when you needed him, asking no longer felt like groveling. He would probably still flitter off for whatever caught his fancy, but it now felt like a touch to his arm would bring him back no matter what.

That was an assured love.

Something reciprocated.

It was love that was heralded.

It was what the Greeks described as philia.

Deep friendship. 

He was your best friend and you were going to hurt him.

You’d sipped your drink and numbly talked about this and that for the rest of the evening. When you emerged from the bar, Mikey gave a puff of air. He’d heaved and put his hands on his knees as if he’d given some huge exertion and then turned to you as if waiting for you to do the same.

You felt oddly okay.

You were going to break your friend’s heart and you felt emotionally afloat. 

The quiet of the night enhanced his radiance and he approached you with curiosity.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t been a lie.

Why did you feel alright?

By all accounts, you should have been miserable.

You waited for the negative thoughts to emerge.

They didn’t.

Weeks went by and the current of your comfort held steady.

You had love.

You had improvement.

You had happiness.

It was fine.

On all accounts, you were exactly where you needed to be minus one invasive species in your heart.

You were painfully aware of the cause, but refused to give it time.

You missed Donnie.

Those little glances might have been precious slivers of stolen time, but they were just that. You hadn’t been able to truly speak to him since the night at the diner. It felt so far away now. You had shared a lifetime worth of words and your regret was that you hadn’t thinned them out. It made you think about a phrase regarding hearts growing fonder, but that felt moronic. The saying was supposed to mean that time apart illuminated what someone took for granted.

You never took Donnie for granted.

Moments with him were known and brief. Time apart was a given and in it all you found was a war waged on your imagination. You refused to give into daydreams. You had let your imagination run wild long enough. The reason you had started going out was because you were sick of your brain’s excuses. You’d lost your twenties to hope and it was only with the last of them that you were rectifying the situation. Dreams were fine when you were driven toward a positive goal. You were making trip plans with Mikey; those were tangible hopes.

Those made sense.

It was only in that way that Donnie didn’t. What you knew about Donnie was always in close contrast to Mikey. Where you and Mikey had to flounder around each other, things came too easily with Donnie. Being around the older brother was as simple as breathing and there was something foreboding about that. Nothing in this life came like that to you. Mikey and you fought for your friendship and it had gotten you to this place.

It was wonderful.

It was earned.

Mikey had to be removed from the equation time and time again just for Donnie to ever have time for you.

That spoke of something sinister. Not in an evil sense, but of a kind of ancient warning. It wasn’t the same for the other brothers. Leo would join in when he felt like it and you could easily talk to him without discounting your friend. Raph could probably lift you as high as his huge reach allowed and there would be little distance between you and the youngest. The girls were always in a rambunctious tizzy, but none of it took you away from Mikey.

Donnie took up space.

He zapped your attention and caused it to collapse.

You’d almost think he was the one with the spatial powers.

Being around him slowed everything down to just him.

He was distracting.

He was attentive.

He was interesting.

That was allure talking. It was the bitter hand of emotion trying to deviate from logic. Those things made sense because whimsy said they did. This was the one instance where that little worried voice in your head was just. It spoke of ill tidings that you knew to be true. It said this would lead to ruin and you knew it would. It said that tiny pockets of pleasure were drug hits and Donnie was a supplier.

Quitting him was the right choice, you just needed to convince your heart.

Mikey was busy and you had been thinking too much without your best friend’s distraction. Where the younger’s absence revealed the older, the former was also your only tie to him. It marked a strange double standard that frustrated you because there was no helping it. Instead, you tried to focus on yourself while the Hamato were busy. A Junior you had heard whispers about was in town and Mikey had impressed upon you what a big deal that was. He was an illustrious figure among the Hamato lexicon and someone you had learned about during Mikey’s history lesson about the Krang. 

There you had been granted the knowledge that Junior was a time traveler. It had been a dizzying enough tale without the dubious additive, but that in and of itself represented the Hamato. It was a precious secret and because of that, you kept quiet as, no matter what happened, a part of you would always feel unworthy of knowing them. The best you could do to make up for that was being dutiful, so you took the task along with your safest method of spending your time: hiding away at home.  

The Hamato had plans for vicious catch up with energy levels that you could barely fathom. They hadn’t bothered to invite you and you hadn’t felt slighted. Instead, it spoke to how much they adored Junior because of how ruthless they were. Blood was apparently spilled while drawing straws in an attempt to divvy up Junior’s time in town. Every member wanted to spend their own special time with him and you were moved by how loved this technically displaced man was. You bet it made him feel appropriately wanted so you didn’t mind in the slightest when Mikey had said he’d be unavailable for a bit.

Outside of silly intrusive thoughts, you had a backlog of TV shows that you were pretty excited to tuck into. Being busy with friends was fun, but in some ways you missed the freedom of your hiding. It almost seemed like a staycation outside of work. Buying groceries that reflected fun, you had just gotten settled on your couch for your third night in a row of tame debauchery when your phone rang. Terror ran through you as you dug through your blanket for the device only to see Mikey’s name run across the screen.

Not fully returning to relaxation, worry shifted into fear’s place as you answered. “H-hello…?”

“Y/N!” Mikey laughed and voices battled in the background. “Stop! Stop! Y/N picked up!”

“Uh…” Your voice wobbled.

“Sorry!” You could hear a crackle as Mikey presumably moved. “I forgot something super important!”

“Y-yeah?” You pulled your phone away from your face to check your notes app in case you knew what it was.

“The future test!!” Mikey’s voice clipped.

“The…” You watched your phone time out in your hand. “W-what?”

“The future test!” Mikey parroted at a lower volume. “All new peeps have to go through it! I can’t believe I forgot!”

“Peeps…?”

“You know! That’s like friends, lovers, con-fee-dants, prospects, that one time with the contractor!” You could almost see Mikey trying to count it off. “Everyone who sticks around has to do it!”

“M-Mikey… I don’t…”

“You don’t…? You don’t know what the future test is! Duh!” He laughed heartily and then his voice came in a little too close to the receiver. “Junior is from the future, right? He’s knows the plug on all our futures, but refuses to spill. He says this mumbo jumbo about different timelines and how it could change things or the circumstances, blah, blah! The thing is, he’s got tells and we’ve totally sussed them out. That means we can’t know what he knows, but we can throw our new people in front of him to see if he knows them! Great, right?!”

You quieted and brought a thumb to the plump of your bottom lip.

Churning the information, you heard Mikey muffle as he talked to someone just off the receiver.

He was giving you processing space and you sorted through until you cleared your throat a little. “Your… No… Um… You w-want me to… meet Junior to see if… me and you, um, know each other… in the future? Or Knew…? Knew each other then? In that… timeline?”

“Exactly.” Mikey’s voice flowed with pride.

You smiled to yourself.

“So yeah, sounds like you’re in. What do you say we meet in like, what do you need? Twenty minutes?”

“What!?” You slammed the phone back to your ear. “Mi-minutes!?”

“Oh, sorry. Thirty? We’re about to hit the arcade. I’m sending the deets… Now!”

Your phone gave a weak vibration and a text preview appeared with an address at the top of the screen. “M-Mikey!”

“Tomorrow we’re going up to the cabin! It has to be tonight! Everyone else has Junior  booked!” Mikey whined and you could see him pleading. “Please!” 

This time you pinched your lip so hard you thought it might crack.

“I know short notice isn’t great for you. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

“My… my name…wasn’t enough?”

“No…” Mikey gave an understanding sigh. “He was just a kid. Didn’t always catch ‘em. He’s good with faces though…”

You gave a weary whine. “How… how f-far away did you say you… thought I was… from spontaneous outings…?”

Mikey chuckled. “Gotta be like six months at least! You are nowhere near ready enough!”

You sighed with a bitter chuckle. “Then I guess this really is important…” 

“It really is.” 

“I guess… I could… test drive…?”

“You don’t even have your license.” Mikey clicked his tongue.

“S-says the a-accident guy…!”

Mikey laughed.

You tapped the pin he’d dropped. “It’s… at least… f-fourty with traffic…”

“Take a cab, I’ll pay.”

“T-that’s-!”

“I’m calling last minute! I’m asking too much! I just got paid!” He sang. “I’m blowing it all! Big money!”

“O-okay…” You could tell he wouldn’t be moved. “I’ll t-text you when… I’m close?”

“Yes!” Mikey paused for a building. “Yes!! Great! See you soon!!”

You hummed an agreement and watched him hang up. Sitting in stasis for a moment because your whole evening was about to change, you let out a loud groan before rushing to get ready. Your heart rate stayed infernally elevated as you went on to fail at hailing four cabs, caught the fifth, and then sat in agonizing silence with a driver who kept flicking what looked like a glare at you through the rearview.

Tucking yourself as close to the door and wondering how to best keep your limbs when jumping out of a moving vehicle, city lights passed until your maps said you were close enough to text Mikey. Shooting out your imminent arrival along with the exact time table, you spied him on the street, waving frantically, as the cab pulled up to him.

“I got a fare, pal!” The driver rolled down the window.

“Yeah, for me! I’m paying!” Mikey waved a wad of cash.

“This you?” The man’s heavy brows glowered at you through the little mirror.

You squeaked and gave a furious nod.

“Thought you’d puke. Get out before you do.” The cabbie told you. 

Bobbing with confusion as that was why he’d been watching, you scurried out as Mikey paid the man.

“Let’s go!!” Mikey quickly got behind you to steer your shoulders.

“A-ah!” Your voice warbled as you shot through two sets of doors and the boisterous drone of dozens of arcade games filled your ears. A crack of a distant bowling alley came along next with prehensile chatter of bystanders. Not packed, but dotted with people, Mikey led you to where the others were gathered around a machine that loaded cards with points to play games.

“Everyone back off!” Mikey snapped once and jumped in front of you to act as a shield.

In your periphery you noted it was just the boys for this outing. They peacefully bowed their heads and backed up to reveal a man with a shock of black hair who still had his card in the machine.

“Almost…” The man held anticipation. “… got it! All by myself! Told you!” He turned and you caught a sliver of an adorable gap shining in his smile and a freshly loaded card in his hand before they both fell. “Not this again…”

“Future test!!!” Leo whooped.

“Mikey…” Junior sighed. “I keep telling you. All of you.” He did a quick sweep that the other’s dodged. “Me knowing someone is not an indication of who you will, should, or don’t end up with! My timeline was different! It changed!”

“Don’t care. Future test.” Mikey bobbed excitedly. “Ready?”

“No, but yes.” Junior shook his head knowing he too also wasn’t a match for Mikey’s determination.

You understood that well. 

The others watched on with curious eyes and Mikey stood straighter. He then swished his arms to the side. “Presenting…!”

You did a nervous jog in place.

“Y/N!” Mikey stepped away and you got a good look at the man that had to be around your age, if not a bit older.

You blinked at him once and brought your hand up from your hip in a tiny wave. “H-hello… N-nice to meet… you?”

Junior stared at your face, blinked a few times, and then did a single up and down.

Your lips crinkled as you waited.

Leo was the first to loudly groan and do a lap.

“Nice to meet you.” Junior held out his hand and his grin returned. “I’m Cassandra Jones Junior.”

You shook it. “Y/N… as Mikey said… I’ve, um, heard a lot about you…”

Mikey slid up to Junior’s side and interrupted his response. “Okay that looked like a fail, but you sure you haven't been practicing your poker face?”

“Poker?” Junior sneered. “I haven’t played since someone conned me out of all that money…” He sent a glare at Donnie who whistled his way behind Raph.

Mikey gave into a drop in his features for only a second before bouncing back and hopping towards the others. “Fine, fine!”

“C-Cassandra…?” You asked as the turtles huddled up to discuss.

“Oh, I thought you said…” Junior looked at you with surprise. “They told me you know this version of my mom… Was that not…?” 

“No…” You held up your hands. “I d-do! T-that’s not… It’s well… h-hard to s-see her with a kid..? Th-that sounds bad! I’m sorry!”

Junior took in your worries with a minor gawk and then waved you down. “No, no. I get it! You know she says she won’t bother having another because she wouldn’t be able to match my superior genes?”

You bobbed. “T-that… that’s f-flattering… from her…”

“Yeah, but also weird!” His arms dangled forward as he slumped. “She thinks I’m a powerful warrior because I was an apocalypse baby. I survived just like anyone else! It’s not like I was a super powered!”

“Ah…” You nodded to him and in the corner of your eye you saw the turtles break apart with jokingly bitter words. “You… had them…” 

Junior checked your eye line and then gave you a warm smile. “Exactly. I had the best senseis and masters you can have at the end of the world. You get it. That’s pretty cool.”

You turned to him in question.

“They tend to attract… Not like the same people as them, but…?”

Picturing the girls, you pursed your lip with understanding.

“The word ‘normal’ has been a tough one for me. I don’t like using it. Normal’s different all around the world.” Junior faced you openly. “I’ve been all over, but here… with them? Even though they aren’t… my them?”

“You feel… safe?” You leaned in a little.

Junior gave glowing embers before he burst into a fierce smile. “Exactly!”

“No new developments. Final conclusion is Y/N is an unknown.” Donnie eyed Junior with his goggles one last time before a flick tossed them back onto his head. “May I?”

Junior stepped out of the way so Donnie could fill his card.

“W-where… did… um… you just… get back from?” You asked, moving with Junior.

“Yemen!” Junior lit up and launched into talk about the humanitarian work he did.

You listened with rapt attention as he stumbled around an untidy timeline. Since Junior had never seen the world whole, he decided to go out to make the most of this one. It took him on a globetrotting adventure where he saw the best and worst of humanity. His passion and strong spirit then led him to aid efforts. Since he knew everything there was to know about survival, he quickly became integral in teaching his ways and being pulled to the harshest corners where he could held those in need. He found his work fulfilling and only seemed a little put out that he couldn’t come back to New York often.

The turtles got their cards situated and Raph pardoned an interruption to call the night a go. Junior apologized saying he would pick up the talk later and he and Leo quickly split for some fighting games with words about a previously interrupted competition. Donnie pointed Raph towards a rhythm game which the oldest told him he’d beat him like a boss at and you were left alone with Mikey.

“O-oh…” You looked around in the different directions everyone had gone. 

“Ah… Yeah, I forgot about this part…” Mikey swept a stray lock from his face. “This night’s been confusing and random for everyone, me included.” 

You waited for him to expand.

“I didn’t expect to drag you out, for one!” He lifted a hand up in demonstration. “The whole future test. The bets on the future test. Getting you to the future test. It was very future test related.” 

“It… didn’t look like it… worked?” You offered, unsure if the talk the guys were having was about split results.

“No…” Mikey looked off toward where Leo and Junior had gone. “Leo’s got the best eye for it. If he tapped out saying Junior doesn’t know you then that’s that. Not everyone has the same faith though so we met up to study Don’s goggle footage and deliberated. Nobody saw any tells, so Junior doesn’t know you…” 

You nodded, feeling a little guilty even though there was no way you had any influence over any of this. 

“Anyway! Enough about that! You’re here now! So, our whole arcade bit is: split up! We like too many different things and staff always ends up asking us to separate when we get stuck in one place too long, damages or whatever. We do… regroup at the end though! We try to pool our ticket points and see if a prize is worth it, one of the few things we sometimes can agree on, and that’s pretty much it!”

“Oh…” You shrank and tried to calculate how you were going to go about getting a game card.

Mikey held one up as casually as he could muster.

He looked like he was offering you a cigarette.

You giggled as you took it. “Mikey-”

“Consider it a thanks for coming out last minute.”

You nodded. “I’m g-getting a lot of those…” 

“It was a big ask! Stop!” He jeered. 

You feigned looking away as if you couldn’t help it. 

You both shared a laugh and then Mikey rocked on his heels while you waited for him to dictate a game he surely had in mind. 

He stopped while hunched forward and examined you long enough to realize you were waiting on him. 

“So, uh…” Mikey’s eyes flicked towards some cabinets with a grimace. “I guess maybe this is the part where the thanks stop…? Usually I’d be my best attendant self ever, but I have an IC card for Time Crisis and I’m beating it this time for sure!”

You stared.

Mikey sat still until he blinked with recognition. “And… I’m realizing you don’t know what any of that is.” 

You shook your head dutifully. 

“Man, Japanese gamemakers are on another level. Not greedy like Americans… well mostly, huh. It is and both isn’t a coin eating game. An IC card is like a paper memory card that saves your progress! You can jump back in where you left off without having to play the whole game again.” Mikey showed you his slip. 

You reviewed it genially. 

“I kinda had a whole plan to finally beat the game, which you can totally watch, but you might get bored so don’t feel like you’re stuck with me.” Mikey threw a thumb back where you assumed the cabinet was. 

“O-oh…” Your gaze lowered.

It wasn’t like you’d been able to prepare for much past getting here. 

You also guessed you had drummed up a little hope in that cab that you’d soon be playing games with your best friend. 

“I-I’m sorry!” He ducked his head to catch your eye. “This is how it is with us! We had an arcade in the lair for the longest time, so it’s like second nature. We don’t even think about it. I mean, this could be good though! Are there any games you want to play? You can scout! After I beat mine, I can come find you! I’m your bestest game buddy as soon as I’m done.”

You glanced at the space and didn’t have the heart to tell him you had never actually braved an arcade alone before.

“Or…!” Mikey leaned in. “Wandering around without a goal might be too much now that I’m thinking about it… Come with me and we’ll set a timer! Framework! Instead of being aimless, you’ll have a goal. When time’s up, you go find one of the guys! Do another timer and feel out the next. You can see the arcade with purpose. How’s that?”

“I guess… that works…” You reminded yourself Donnie was with Raph.

“Great! C’mon!” Mikey caught your hand and you were soon running through the twinkling lights. Winding through machines with learned ease, you were flung through the sensory cacophony. There were too many cabinets and you got little information off them before Mikey came to a halt and you crashed into him. “Woah!”

He righted you and gestured to one machine in particular. “Time Crisis!”

You stared at the distinct red and yellow pattern.

He went on to explain the plot he’d played through as he swiped his game card. He maneuvered screens without looking and the machine ate up his IC card when prompted. You stood by as his speech tapered off and he became engrossed in firing a little plastic gun. For a while you watched him, forgetting about the timer, and instead admired his aim. That went on until the action became a certain type of repetitive and your eye wandered to the surrounding cabinets. There were all kinds from newer ones geared towards kids to imports that had little to no English. Just as you were rounding from your search, a loud thwack startled you. It sounded distinct from other beeping noises and you tilted your head. You wondered what it could be paired with when you heard Mikey groan.

You returned to find he’d lost and was reloading a life. “How ya doing?”

“A-alright…!”

He flicked you a knowing look before getting back to the game. “I’m remembering we forgot to set that  timer.” 

You lowered your head in shame. 

“You could start one now…” His voice pitched with a teasing edge. 

He knew you were losing interest. 

He was going to make you say it. 

“I… I’m going to…” You tried. 

“Fighting cabinets are toward the UFO Catchers and to the right of the prize counter. Can’t miss them.”

Having a map soothed you. “Thank you…”

“Have fun!” He fired off a few shots.

You parted with more appreciation before hearing him yell after you.

“Try the first game that catches your eye!”

They all did so how were you supposed to choose?

Setting that aside, you instead focused on following your scant instructions.

Walking a mostly straight line, you came to row after row of claw games and passed through them with a wandering eye. A few toys looked cute, but the rigged nature of the game kept you from trying one. For now, you passed them up and looked up the prize kiosk before turning the appropriate right. A straight line revealed dozens of cabinets with little stools and Junior and Leo sat side by side among them.

“Get good!” Leo elbowed Junior.

“You’re mad cause I’ve beaten you three times in a row!” Junior dodged and spoke through his bitten tongue.

“You’re cheating cause you have an arcade stick at home!”

“I have five and can’t even use them here!”

“But you get practice in your down time! Online play! Blech!” Leo blew a raspberry and went ham on smashing some buttons.

“H-hey!” Junior huffed having been distracted.

Keeping a certain distance, you watched and saw that, even though they were at different booths, they were clearing playing against each other.

“Hey, Y/N!” Leo responded without ever having looked.

You jolted.

“Wanna play me after?” Leo tossed. 

“You play winners!” Junior mocked.

“Loser says what?”

Junior sat in studious silence which caused Leo to get just annoyed enough that he turned to glare.

The game made a loud noise and when Leo returned he cursed.

“Guess you’re playing me!” Junior spun in his stool with that flaming smile.

Your hands went up and your game card flickered between your fingers. “O-oh… I-I h-haven’t…!”

“You just mash the buttons. Newbies sometimes win cause of it!” Leo hopped one seat over and offered you his. “One time won’t hurt.”

You nervously looked between the pair's encouragement and sat down.

“First you pick a character…” Junior and Leo walked you through the process.

Junior then held back as Leo showed you some of the more minute controls. You got in a few hits before the game started up. Much slower than what you had glimpsed from the previous pair, Junior still won, but Leo urged you to go again. You played about five rounds before the tittering excitement made your hands start to shake.

“Tag in!” Leo tapped a nervous digit and you evacuated his seat. “Where you headed next?”

Opting to stand behind them, you stared at the back of Leo’s head.

“You’re scoping the joint out, right? You’re a total deer caught in headlights.”

You shifted. “T-that… obvious?”

“Only cause you look like this guy.” Leo tipped his head toward Junior. “We still surprise him with stuff now and then.”

“I’ve experienced things you can’t even imagine.” Junior’s smile flickered as he played.

“Yeah, yeah, but New York will always have that n'est pas!”

“Je ne sais quoi.” Junior pressed the vowels mockingly. 

“Wah! I was a baby of the apocalypse! Get new material!” Leo laughed. “Ha!! Got you!”

“Low blow!” Junior hissed having lost.

You smiled fondly at the pair before turning. Not moving away just yet, you ran your eyes over more machines and a line of doors. Imagining they were for private parties, you heard a holler that sounded very much like Raph cheering.

“Someone’s playing PPR.” Junior chuckled.

“Go check it out, Y/N. Follow the karaoke doors.” Leo lifted his hand long enough to throw a thumb.

“Those are karaoke rooms?” You wondered.

“Yeah, but we probably won’t do that tonight. Junior’s trying to save his voice.”

“I have to talk to the family, don’t I!?” Junior rolled his neck and you could tell it was his eyes without seeing them.

“T-thank you…” You quietly murmured.

“Uh huh! Sure, sure! Junior, dangit!!” Leo lit with renewed anger. 

Leaving the pair, you led up to the wall and avoided interrupting the privacy of the karaoke rooms. As soon as you shirked the first glass window, you saw straight down a line where Raph was excitedly jumping up and down on a dance machine.

Donnie wasn’t there.

Heart sinking at the prospect of having to find him, you headed towards the oldest turtle before you heard a bang. It sounded like that same strange one from Mikey’s cabinet and sounded closer since a chorus of kids yelling followed chase it. You searched high and low for wherever the gaggle was, but you couldn’t find them by the time you reached Raph.

He did a spin, hitting multiple arrows on a dance pad at once when he saw you. “Y/N!”

“H-hey…”

“Jump on in, I’ll hang back on the song selection while you swipe your card in three… two… one…!” In a few more taps, Raph got a stellar letter score and wiped his brow.

“I don’t…” You frowned at the machine.

“No judgment. Raph used to suck at these. It’s all practice.”

Gaze low, you thought you should at least try and climbed up onto the adjoining game pad.

“That’s the spirit!” Raph cycled through the songs. “We’ll start with an easy one…”

You nodded and tested out stepping after getting your player marked up as two.

Raph activated the song and spoke each direction out loud as he did them. Between him and the screen, it helped you at first until you got mixed up and fell out of sync. The screen scolding you, you nearly fled when Raph stopped mid-game and pressed himself to the bar that separated your two platforms.

“Hey.” He greeted you casually.

“R-raph…!” You gestured to where his score was plummeting.

“It’s just a game.” Raph folded his arms as if it didn’t interest him. “How’s it going?”

Blinking and still not sure if you could just stop, you struggled before giving him a nod.

“Mike treating you right?”

You blinked so fast that you shook. “Y-yes, o-of course!”

“Good.” Raph nodded. “He gets excited.”

You knew that well.

“Hey, we lost!” Raph glanced with a snaggletooth smile and started up another game that he continued to ignore. “Surprised Donnie didn’t catch ya.”

Your chest tightened. “I don’t…”

“’Is okay.” Raph tipped his head with closed eyes. “Watching the two of you talk the other day was something.”

“I didn’t…”

He reached out only enough to get your attention. “I’m not saying nothing. I’m just saying you looked happy. You look happy with Mike too. I’m glad.”

Your defenses lowered some.

“Doesn’t matter who. Compared to the first time we met you, you looked like you were ready to jump out of your skin. Now look at you! Losing with the best of ‘em!”

You glanced to see the screen still complaining.

“We forget sometimes. Not just us, us, but like… what do they say? The royalty ‘us?’ Whatever, people forget how much effect they have on others. Sometimes ya gotta point it out. Look at all you did for Mike. I’m glad we returned the favor… Or two of us did…? Or just him…?” Raph was clearly puzzled. 

“What… could I have done for… Mikey?”

“You changed each other.” Raph lobbed you a meaningful grin. “For the better.”

You had noticed a shift, but you had thought that was Mikey trying to accommodate you.

“Mike’s always been confident in himself, but we haven’t had the best track record believing in him.” Raph leaned so heavily on the bar it creaked. 

You checked it with a flick of your eye. 

Raph seemed none the wiser. “He’s spooked you a few times. You get it, but lately he’s been… more present? When he was younger, baby bro and all, not paying attention is one thing, but then… Ugh…” 

Your worried eye moved to the man. 

Raph wiped a hand over his beak. “He gets results in a roundabout way…” He snapped. “His way!” 

“R-right…” You couldn’t disagree with that. 

“Which doesn’t always… account for others. He’s like the most selfish selfless guy on the planet.” He chuffed. 

You pondered with a scrunched brow. 

“But you… saw him different.” 

Your lip pursed. 

“Not the box we put him in.” 

Your gaze softened. 

“As something more, like the sun doesn’t shine without him.” 

You startled and searched Raph. 

“Different than hero worship…” He seemed to be juggling words. “Different… Good different. He saw something too. You saw each other as more than meets the eye.” 

The machine made an abysmal noise and pulled both your attentions. 

“Ah, we got kicked!” Raph only glanced at the ‘faliure’ written on the screen and scanned back in. “Wanna try again?” 

“No…” You stepped off the pads. “I’m… I have a lot…” You adjusted your posture to face Raph head on. “I mean… T-thank you…”

Raph hummed with gentle compassion and turned to pick a song. “Don’s still at the drums. He’s mad I beat him.”

“I was… going to… Uh… Mikey was at… Time Crisis so…”

Raph shrugged and returned to dancing.

Not wanting to interrupt further, you trailed away. Spatially, you thought you were to the east of Mikey’s cabinet was which meant if you cut west you could find him. That also meant you’d be going through uncharted territory which concerned you. Glancing back and wondering how Leo and Junior would react to you passing by a second time, you looked down a new line of games and inched forward with the intention to be brave. You saw few people as you venture forward and, from glances at the machines, these games seemed like ones that weren’t as obviously attractive. You took solace in the fact that you wouldn’t be in anyone’s way and felt more comfortable in walking at a leisurely pace.

Without anyone to worry about, you took your time to review each selection. The games here were primarily in other languages which was what you guessed was keeping others from playing. As if to make up for the folly, each machine had a video screen with visual instructions on the game mechanics. You watched a few seconds of each as you drifted down the line until you reached one that had half a fake table sitting within its confines.

There weren’t any controls and the whole machine was set low to the ground. You stooped a bit on approach so you could easily look at the screen. On it, an angry person flipped the table and the wreckage that followed decimated everything in its path. Little polygonal people kept their neutral faces as they were tossed about and things like hitting office supplies seemed to garner extra points. Chuckling at how ridiculous it was, you reached down and patted the table’s plastic surface. The object immediately bounced underhand and knowing that it had a spring mechanism made you connect the banging sounds you had kept hearing to this game.  

Pulling your hand back, you stepped away, wary, and trailed toward where Mikey was. Without realizing it you had stepped out far enough to glimpse him. In just a sliver you could tell he was still firing his plastic gun. You didn’t catch his eye so you walked over. Instead of bothering him, you stared on the screen as a digital gun representing him fired away at miscreants. He eventually caught wind of your presence and checked in with how things were going. You told him about the fighting and dance games to which he nodded and gave you little factoids about the brother’s preferences.

“Was Dee not playing PPR?”

“Uh!” You turned away and hoped he was distracted. “R-raph said… he was… still playing drums…”

“Taiko’s fun! How’d you like that one? You didn’t mention it.”

“I didn’t… There…” You lifted your gaze. “There was this… um… like… table flipping game?”

“Table… table?” Mikey murmured first before he lit up. “Oh! Chabudai something! I know that one! That’s a silly one. It doesn’t give tickets or anything. It’s like stress relief.”

“It’s… loud…”

“Yeah!” Mikey reloaded. “That’s what’s so fun about it! Bang! Ha! Take that judgey family! I had a tough day!”

You tried to make yourself smaller.                                                                                  

“If you’re looking for something easier on the ears, there’s a piano game that’s pretty fun.” Mikey took aim. “It’s behind me kinda. The tower!”

You turned and located the black and white pillar.

“A calm game might be your speed?”

“O-oh…” That did sound nice.

“Hey.” He stopped and turned to you. “Are you having fun?”

“Y-yes!” You leaned away from his attention.

Mikey frowned and studied you closely.

Your chin dipped down into your body to hide.

The game said he was getting injured.

“Fifteen minutes and I’ll find you so we can explore the prizes.”

You did like a timeline. “Y-you s-sure?”

“Yeah.” Mikey’s features complained and returned to his game. “I’m still too far to beat it apparently.” He gave a loud sigh that turned wistful. “One day!”

“One day.” You reassured him and trailed toward the piano game. It had a seat so you sat down and had time to review the game before you started. The keys were too large and too few to look like a real piano, but you tapped away in rhythm. It was the perfect amount of calming and distracting that they time flew by until Mikey came to fetch you. He regaled you in his game’s history as you slipped past a sleeping attendant and into the prize area. Wandering the brightly lit space felt like a stark contrast to the arcade floor. You and Mikey alternated showing each other the silliest items you could find. From giant glasses to gaudy hats where the ears could flap, you laughed at golden poop and mimicked an electronic lucky cat.

You soon broke apart where Mikey was doing math for a skateboard and you checked the glass counter where both the cheapest and more elusive small prizes were held. Down near the bottom was a series of tiny plush key chains that looked like they would have been more at home in the claw machines. They were clearly dog-like, but their shape was strange. Their eyes gazed up at you with a quality of sad puppies begging to be adopted in a shelter. Squatting down to study them, you found they were some kind of brand name unknown to you and seemed to have something to do with beans based on their names. The longer you stared the cuter you thought they were.

“Hey, Don!” Mikey suddenly chirped.

You hunkered further down where you were.

“Michael.” Donnie addressed breezily.

“So let’s say I came here every day, for five hours a day, do you think I could get that skateboard?”

There was only a second of silence. “With that time frame, I estimate five years.”

“Years?! No way!”

“With the games you play.”

“I’m good!”

“True, but you need to play with tickets in mind.”

“Ugh, the ticket games are boring!” Mikey groaned.

“Five years.” Donnie repeated.

“Five years.” Mikey clicked his tongue, annoyed. “You hear that, Y/N!?”

Your body tipped and your arms flailed to keep you upright. “U-uh… y-yeah!”

“Find something?” Mikey’s voice wandered up behind you.

“N-no…” You got yourself upright and took little steps in place to shake out your legs.

“Liar. What are those?” Mikey dropped similar to how you had been and pointed at the plushes. “‘Mameshiba?’”

“A pun.” Donnie loomed overhead. “Bean dogs.”

“They’re gross shaped.” Mikey chuckled and tipped his head back to you. “Which did you like? I’ll get one for you.”

You waved your hands furiously to stop him. “N-no…! I w-was just l-looking!”

“You sure?” Mikey hopped up to his full height and his grin grew smarmy. “Ah, I see…” 

You looked around, not sure where that was coming from.

“You like the orange one.” He tossed an arm over your shoulders to rock you back and forth. “It’s okay. I know I have a trademark, but I’ll let you in on it just this once. What do you say?”

“O-orange?” You had to look because you hadn’t noticed one in that color.

A little guy with glasses in the back stared back at you.

A frown must have painted your lips because Donnie had to turn with bubbles of laughter.

“H-hey!” Mikey’s offense skyrocketed. “H-he’s like smart or something! He’s cute!”

You chewed on a smile.

“Rude.” Mikey released you.

Donnie returned and glanced down at the case for his own look.

“Wanna help me max tickets in your boring way?” Mikey looked over Donnie expectantly.

“Not with that attitude.” Donnie returned one for his insolence. “I came in here to grab something.”

Mikey’s head lolled with surprise. “You said the stuff in here is ‘cheap crap you can literally buy anywhere else for half the price.’”

“True.” Donnie gave a nod. “There is also a children’s science set available here that was banned in the states due to its volatile nature. Overseas shipping price and times are nonsensical. I wish to recreate said results.” A growing grin split wickedly across his face.

Mikey rolled his eyes as if it couldn’t be helped. “We’ll start without you! Meet up at the fish game!”

“Coins make more sense!” Donnie yelled after as Mikey led you out.

You helped Mikey with a few games until Donnie joined. He kept back and walked Mikey through strategies to maximize ticket output. You listened curiously for a while and were almost conscripted into the fervor, but your distraction was just enough that only the two brothers got sucked in. They went back and forth, cheering when a load of coins would fall and you looked across the room to where that table flipping game was.

You had already forgotten what Mikey had called it.

It was too disruptive.

You wondered what kind of timeline it would take for you to be able to play it without worry.

It seemed as unlikely as you flipping a real table which struck you as a comical image. You couldn’t imagine yourself getting that mad. The closest you’d come was knocking a drink over at a restaurant once and your family had berated you all night long until you’d cried. Shoving that memory down, the only scenario you could come up with for actually flipping a table would be one of distraction so you could run.

Gaze lowering, you matched patterns on the dizzying arcade carpet.

“If we keep this up it’ll be skateboard time!”

“The cards are only worth triple. Unlikely!” Donnie scolded.

“Cards, smards!” Mikey responded and a coin fall sounded. “Let’s go!”

“Guys!” Leo ran up with several plushies hanging from his jacket. “Guess what?!”

“We’re busy getting a skateboard!” Mikey responded.

“It’s not likely!” Donnie chased him.

“Whatever.” Leo rolled his eyes at them and then landed on you as the likely prospect to listen. “One of the claw machines is busted and you’re guaranteed a prize!”

You blinked.

“Want one?” Leo gestured to his full color set.

“Um…”

“Not these. These are mine!” Leo turned his body away protectively. “I meant I’ll show you which machine.”

“Um…” You glanced at the two other brothers still playing their slots. “S-sure?”

Leo nodded you along and you followed just a step behind him.

“How many games have you played?” He tossed over his shoulder.

“Four…? I think…?”

“Not a lot.” Leo didn’t look back and maneuvered you to a UFO catcher.

“No…” You admitted sullenly.

Leo offered the machine to you and you didn’t miss how he scanned his card for you to play.

You looked over your options as the game twinkled out a melody.

Leo leaned against the adjacent machine and watched.

Studying closely, you picked a likely toy candidate that was also cute and moved the claw into position.

“Be honest.”

You almost pushed the button to release too early. “W-what…?”

“What are you avoiding?”

You split tiny glances between him and the game. “I’m… not… I…”

“There’s a game, isn’t there? Which game are you not playing?” He seemed to clarify, but there was something in his tone that made you think that wasn’t what he was referring to.

Getting the claw in place, you hit the drop button and didn’t watch the machine go about its capture. “Leo… I’m sorry… I don’t… I’d rather… not…t-think about… it. The night’s… almost over…”

You could feel Leo watch for a moment before he sucked in a breath and sighed. “You won.”

You grabbed your prize and stared into the plushie’s cold gaze.

You almost missed the bean dogs’ curious gaze. 

You weren’t sure if you really wanted this other one, but you pulled it close. 

“Change your mind or don’t…” He ruminated. “It’s not really my business, but I think you should at least make a choice. I get not making a choice is choosing too, but…”

You glanced to see his beak wrinkled.

“Kind of a boring, don’t you think?”

“Boring… can be… fun?” You held your plush to your chest.

“Sure, if you know you’ll get a prize.” Leo nodded to your win. “Unknown’ll get you farther. Risk-reward and all that. Isn’t that what you were doing? Risking it for the going out biscuit?”

You wondered how much Mikey had told him.

Leo shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“I…”

“Hm?” There was an airy tone to him like he knew you’d bring something up.

You weren’t sure you liked that. “I… w-want… to… f-flip a table…”

He snorted loudly. “What!? What does that mean!? Flip a table?!”

You scrambled. “T-there’s a-a g-game..!”

“A game?!” He reared with laughter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“T-there i-is!” You pointed feebly.

“Show me.” He seemed unconvinced amongst his giggles.

You pursed your lips and tripped over your feet as you started to move. Just barely catching yourself, you moved with as much determination as you could muster over to said machine.

“Oh, this thing!” Leo gave a few more plucked strings of chuckles. “Let’s see it then! Show me your rage!”

You wilted at the actual prospect. “Oh… um…. “

Leo reached into your person and you whimpered before he showed that he’d stolen your game card. You frowned at him and watched as he scanned it into the game system before offering it back.

You snatched it from him.

“Guess you gotta flip!” Leo took a step back and waited.

Heart racing out of your ears, you drowned in the rush and caught the edges of the table. An announcer yelled at you in Japanese before a countdown started. Feeling very much like you would pass out right as it hit whatever number it was leading to, you squeezed your eyes shut as it screamed at you to go. With a surge, you meant to throw your force into the flip, but a cropping of nervous sweat meant the table slipped from you without smashing all the way back.

You stared a sort of numb as you watched barely anything in the room get knocked over and the game sneered at your terrible score.

Leo sniveled beside you.

You turned to find his whole body quaking with withheld laughter.

“Look at you go! Look at your f-fiery s-spirit!” He choked out. “G-good j-job!’ 

“I-I messed up!” You quacked and slammed your card through the scanner again.

It pinged with another game and you wiped your hands off before grabbing the table. Only wanting to make Leo stop, you gripped tightly and the countdown started. Each tick came with a strange distorted memory of you hiding away and by the time the game called, you roared to meet it. Feeling like fire was in your eyes, you tossed the table up so hard, it smashed into the machine. The resounding clatter blew your ears out and the table flapped on its springs. Bouncing up for a second crash, you stumbled backward and fell to the ground. On screen, destruction wreaked havoc and you watched multiple walls get blown out before a party started up.

There was a slow clap beside you, but you couldn’t look away from the game until it returned to playing idle animations.  

“Now that’s the stuff.” Leo offered a hand.

You took it, gawking at him.

You’d done it.

No one was coming to yell.

It was so loud.

Was any of it real?

“Wanna share the good news or keep it between us?” Leo asked genuinely as he let go.

“Us.” The sound popped out of you nearly as fast as you’d just played. “Um…”

“Just us.” Leo confirmed. “Let’s go meet up with the others. Unless you wanna keep throwing down?”

“O-one is e-enough…” You fell in line close to him and he passed you a proud smile.

You were going for a full house of impressing the turtles.

You had no idea what you’d do with that kind of win.

Returning to where Raph had been added to the coin army, Junior soon came along and he walked you through a few more games while the brothers went all out for the skateboard. Time passed and you heard what seemed like rare stories shared as you moved around racking up experience points in a literal sense. Merging the groups at a later time meant you caught Mikey with his prize in hand. He tore into the box for the expectant crowd only for everyone to immediately realize it was a child’s skateboard. Way too small for actual use, Mikey toyed with it anyway as if he hadn’t wanted to admit his coveted item was a dud.

Exchanging your tickets for some candy, you split with the boys as you all walked outside. Fulfilled and hearing them bemoan the early hours they needed to leave for the trip, you listened comfortably to their excitement. Splinter and Draxum would be joining them and it would be an entire affair. April and Casey were meant to drive up later and there was talk of which rest stop they were going to hit. Everyone seemed on board and ready for more family time and you ruminated what that was like. They still lived together, had grown in different ways, but still excitedly pursued time together.

They were something special and you were glad you’d gotten a chance to know them.

Nearing a point only a few blocks from your apartment, you felt everyone idle at the separation point. Raph lamented not getting food at the arcade and Junior asked Mikey to make nachos. Mikey said it wasn’t time for that and that he was missing a few ingredients. One crestfallen look from Junior had Mikey backpedaling about how he could do grilled cheeses instead and that seemed to hit the guys in a nostalgic way. Presumably a childhood delicacy, you watched on favorably while feeling the pull of your time to go.

“T-thanks…. Everyone…” You snuck in between lulls in conversation.

“Oh!” Mikey bobbed. “Want me to walk you?”

“I-it’s only a couple m-minutes.” You dismissed him politely.

“Mkay. Text me.” Mikey offered a fist bump and you took it.

“Night!” Junior waved. “Nice meeting you.”

“See ya!” Raph grinned.

Leo shot you a peace sign and Donnie gave a little nod of his head.

You bobbed yours back and hoped you weren’t obviously averting your eyes to instead give Mikey the final goodbye. “Have a good trip.”

“For sure!” Mikey waved after you and you took off.

The first thing you did was check that you hadn’t dropped your plush. It watched you at the ready and you picked a bit of fluff off its face while wondering if you should name it. It probably already had a name like the bean dogs so you turned it over to check the tag. It was written in a language you couldn’t read and you tried to figure out what sort of internet search could reveal it. 

Soft fluffy crane game prize?

Round orb plush UFO?

Staring plushie doll Japanese?

An arm grabbed yours and pulled.

You had a scream on your lips but something musty slammed over them.

Shoved and then tossed, your knees scraped the ground and you lost your toy.

“W-wha…?” You came out of a wince to find you were staring down black boots.

You were in an alley.

Mugged.

You were getting mugged.

Your heart slammed in your chest cavity.

Stupid.

You always watched.

You never once let your guard down.

You were smart.

You were wary.

You paid attention.

You had forgotten because you were thinking about search phrases. 

Why had you let something so stupid distract you?

“Empty your pockets.” A gruff voice spoke above you.

You knew the procedure.

In a scramble with your head down, you tossed the person everything you had.

You even made a show of touching your socks to illustrate nothing was hidden in them.

“T-that’s… e-every…thing… I did-didn’t…s-see y-you… p-p-please…!”

The mugger choked on a laugh. “What the fuck?”

You kept your hands out and obvious while refusing to look up.

“You just rolled over? Wow…!” You saw clips of gloved hands grab your belongings. “Never been so easy. What’s wrong with you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and waited.

A boot made contact with your face.

Not a kick, more of a pressure, he forced your head up.

Tears fled down your cheeks as you refused to open your eyes.

“Look at me.”

You couldn’t shake your head. “T-that’s… a-all… I-I… h-have…!”

“I said-” Something cold and sharp bit into your cheek. “Look.”

You cracked your lids and saw a man with stubble staring down at you along with the hilt of his knife.

“You’re a scared one…”

This time you nodded.

The knife slid along the plump of your cheek.“Shame. I always thought I wanted it easy. Guess I got used to a little complaining. It doesn’t feel like I earned it otherwise.”

Your eyes widened.

“You’re really just gonna keep crying?” Keeping the knife steady, he used his other hand to fist your shirt.

You squeaked as he yanked you up. 

Something whistled through the air.

You screwed your eyes shut and tried not to vomit as you waited for impact.

Metal came in contact with flesh and the gush that followed was one etched into your very core.

You dropped to the ground and felt the wet pavement cut your palms.

A second strike happened and this one came with a splat against bricks.

“Y/N!”

You shuddered, waiting for consciousness to fade.

Of course, Donnie’s voice would be the last you heard.

Stupid imagination.

“Y/N!” Your shoulders were taken.

A shake opened your eyes.

There was light pollution marring the murky blacks.

The clip of brick.

The mouth of an alley.

You were alive.

“Hey!”

Your head lolled down to where Donnie was fervently petting your cheek.”Y/N? Can you hear me? Were you injured?”

Yeah, you meant to say, you were hit by…

Nothing.

You were fine.

Suddenly fighting to get away, Donnie lifted his hands in a show of release and you scrambled backward.

Laying on the ground behind him was the mugger in a heap.

Slung through one of Donnie’s arms was a large staff.

The silver tip of it was darkened.

“D-Don…nie?”

“Hey… It’s okay…” He continued to hold his hands up. “I went to make sure you made it and found… this.”

“You… what…? Why…?” Your brain screamed about the point.

“You… should have texted…” Donnie’s gaze flicked away exactly one time. “After seven minutes and me asking three times for Mikey to check his messages, Leo told me to go look if I was so worried… I… left right then.”

“Mikey…”

“Said you were probably settling in…”

“Mikey…” Tears burned your vision. “Why…?” 

“Are you okay…? I don’t blood, but that doesn’t mean-”

“Why you!?”

His gaze opened up.

“Why…!?” You choked on a sob. “I-it c-can’t b-be you! You know that! I k-know you know!!”

Donnie’s fingers curled into fists. “I… see…”

“I’m… not hurt… Not p-physically…” You tried to get up, but fear had taken your legs.

“I called the police, if you want to make a statement…”

Another sob broke from you, but it was enough to get you upright. You stumbled and watched Donnie in your periphery struggle to keep himself from catching you. You felt all the worse for it because you wanted him to and made it a few steps out of the alley before you felt compelled to see the scene of the crime for what it was.

It was a dirty alley. 

The mugger was on the ground. 

Donnie looked up at you from where he was gathering your belongings.

More tears came and you tucked yourself against a brick to keep what was left of you together. He seemed to get everything and then came to stand quietly behind you. From there you moved, watching bitterly for every shadow as you headed straight to your apartment. The walk a short one, it was still enough time that you got space and clarity.

A cop car whizzed by.

You watched it drearily as you reached your stoop. You stopped just shy of the first step and gave a nasally sigh as your nose was plugged. A hanky appeared over your shoulder. You went to take it when you saw a silver thing clutching it instead of a green hand. Turning out of deadened surprise, you found some sort of mechanical arm coming out of Donnie’s back. You pinched unconsciously at the tissue and the mechanism let go to disappear back into his person. Not having enough energy to deal with that, you blew your nose far louder than you were proud of. Smearing the still clean parts over your face for any semblance of decency, you hid behind the cloth to look at him.

His eyes were down to give you privacy.

“I’m… sorry…” You croaked. “I…want to t-thank you… for saving me…”

He gave a single nod.

“That… wasn’t fair… I’m sorry… I don’t know where… that came from… I don’t know… where I’d b-be if you h-hadn’t…” Tears rushed you again and you despised them.

He surfaced with worry. “No… You’re right… It shouldn’t have been me. I should have forced Mikey-”

You shook your head. “No… I mean… I just…”

Donnie met you with a pinched expression. “You’re sure you aren’t hurt?”

You nodded. “You… got there just in time…”

“I should call Mikey.” He went for his phone.

Your hand pushed into his stiff chest to stop him.

You both startled at the appendage.

“S-sorry…!” You scrubbed away errant tears. “I can’t… handle him… like this…”

Donnie continued to stare at your hand.

You wanted to hug him so badly.

He would hold you. 

You knew he would. 

He would offer that same comfort he always did.

Even if he didn’t return the hold, it’d flood you.

Those ridiculous feel good chemicals that came from an illogical source.

You couldn’t fold.

Not as you were.

You were too weak.

You’d just been mugged.

You’d been threatened.

That man was going to hurt you.

You pressed into Donnie as more tears came.

He swept you up tight against him and you soaked his shirt for a length of time that you lost count of.

“I’m sorry!” You choked against him on repeat.

Each cry came out more wrangled than the last and the phrase refused to stop.

He seemed to squeeze more with each utterance and you hated how much better it made you feel.

Him.

He was warm.

Him.

He was safe.

Him.

You turned your head to try to make use of what was left of the hanky.

He petted your head as you did so.

“It’s gross…” Your voice broke.

“Very.”  He agreed without delay.

You bobbed with a bit of comedy against him.

“I have another.”

“Give it.” You held out your hand and a mechanical arm gave you another tissue.

You blew your nose again and felt the way Donnie twitched ever so slightly with disgust.

When you came up, you cleared your throat and looked at him.

He stared down with a swirling gaze.

Concern.

Care.

More.

“Damnit, Donnie…” You grumbled, leaning into him.

He nodded above you.

“We can’t keep doing this…” You pushed him back.

He slid away save for his hands at your elbows.

Even that was an act of attrition.

“I’ve… I’ve been trying to avoid you…” You told him. 

“I know.”

“I’m sorry…” You threw your head up. “That sounds terrible…!”

“It makes sense.”

“But you…!” You gestured to him and it broke your arms from his hold.

It brought you a little closer to eye level.

His gaze was down.

“I don’t want to…” You whispered.

He slowly blinked before looking up at you. “I’ve had a thought.”

You leaned against the railing.

“This could not be a worse time to share this and I’d labeled this particular idea as… absurd. You see, I have many ideas that aren’t applicable to anything. Be it because the technology doesn't exist yet or fleeting one’s that society frowns upon.” 

From the hanky giving robot you’d just seen, you figured the former was one he could easily rectify.

“In this case, I thought it would never come up. I assumed this would pass or you would not be receptive.”

You needed to see him better.

You took another step back and it raised you to his height.

He looked over your maneuver before shuffling as far forward as he could to close the gap between you.

You held out a hand.

He took it.

“I see… and correct if I’m wrong, that we both feel it… Are we drawn to one another?”

You nodded and added your other hand.

His second joined and split the pair.

A hand for a hand.

“I’ve long considered how to dispel it. It’s… good…” There was heavy disdain in the word. “… to hear we agree…”

You swayed slightly.

He felt it too. 

He liked you. 

How?

Why?

He bobbed as if to hurry. “I believe it’s the taboo.”

You jarred still.

“I’ve considered every possibility and the list of aggravations is aggressively long. There’s, for one, my penchant for wanting objects I’m expressively told I can’t have. I also dislike being told what to do and try to find work arounds to get what I want.”

“I think this is different from being told not to… hack the… Pentagon… or… something…”

A glint in his gaze said that was a likely scenario. “We also have to acknowledge the timing. It’s why I’m stalling! Scientifically, we can prove that no matter what your answer is, you are not in your right mind. By that means, it can only be labeled manipulation which is why I’m trying not to say it because you will be swayed regardless and-” 

You pulled on his hands to reign him in. 

He gave you a withered look before it was clear he gave in. “I will stress that this is only a hypothesis, but I believe we can dispel these feelings if we acknowledge them. If the allure is only for that which we cannot have, then we see to it and move on.”

“Isn’t that what we just did…?” You leaned into him.

He came his own marked distance. “I was thinking… something more concrete…” 

“We say it…? Your face smoked with growing embers. 

“I like you.” Donnie said, his own skin looking flush. 

“I… like you… too.” You responded. 

For a moment it felt like your tethered fingers were the only thing keeping you from floating away. 

Then Donnie winced. “It’s not enough.” 

In an intangible way, you agreed. 

You only wanted more.

You wanted to hear it again. 

You didn’t want to let go. 

It seemed obvious that he didn’t either. 

“This was what I feared.” He squeezed your hands. “A confession under duress is one thing…” 

You had a dawning thought. “Saying it… wasn’t what you meant. That wasn’t your thought.” 

He looked painfully guilty. 

“How…?” You tried to catch his eye and translate your presence. 

He checked first then studied you. 

You waited, feeling a little more stable by the second. 

“A… kiss…” He finally admitted and his gaze flicked down to your lips and back up. “One. That is how we dispel the desire. That’s tangible. We both acknowledge this was a mistake of greener grass and nothing more.”

“One…?” You drew close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath.

“One…” He confirmed and had to blink heavily to keep his eyes open. “I dislike the state you’re in. These circumstances…”

“Would we even be talking about this otherwise?”

He searched you.

“How… long were we going to pretend this wasn’t happening? It… hurts. I hate… the feeling. I hate feeling like I’m doing something behind Mikey’s back… You’re right… I was just mugged!” You shook your head. “But we like each other and knowing that-!” 

Your heart stuffed itself into your throat.

It felt great to hear. 

Donnie’s confession was still running on repeat in the back of your mind. 

For the terrible thing that had happened tonight, you imagined in the long run you wouldn’t remember it. 

You’d remember this. 

Euphoria flooded your veins.

“How long, indeed…?” His lids lowered and you could tell he was imagining possibilities. “I guess until one of us moved on and made a smarter choice or until it drove us mad and we did something out of sheer desperation.”

“Is it dopamine?”

His head tipped with in question.

“When you cry. Is that…?”

“Oxytocin and endogenous opioids…” He caught your meaning.

“Sure…” It hadn’t really mattered which, you just needed him to understand “Don’t they… make your head clearer too…?”

Donnie’s gaze flicked as he processed. “I suppose… the parasympathetic nervous system does shift the body out of fight or flight… You know the opposite is called ‘rest and digest,’ but it’s not a term that’s often used…” He trailed off sheepishly.

You smiled and very much wanted to kiss him just cause.

You also wanted to listen to him. 

You wanted this, forever. 

“I’m sorry…” His thumb caressed your knuckles. 

“What I meant was… I can make this decision. Yes, you saved me. Yes, what just happened was haunting. Yes, I’m indebted to you, but I also owe you way too much already. It won’t sway me…”

“You’re… agreeing?” He balked. “That we should kiss?”

“One.” You nodded. “We need to… move on. To stop this. I don’t… I don’t want to be scared to be around you.”

Donnie gave a withheld nod. “I refuse to hurt Mikey.”

“I wish I could say the same.” You gave him a watery look. 

He understood and leaned his beak into your cheek for reassurance. 

He was there. 

You pressed hard into him and turned it into a nuzzle. 

For those blissful seconds of contact, it felt like your worries melted away. 

He pulled away like he had to. 

“We shouldn’t…” 

“I know…” You softened in spite of yourself.

Donnie ate the expression up.

“Isn’t that the point…?” 

Donnie gave a bare nod. 

“None of this makes sense so one… and the magic is gone.”

Donnie shook himself out and adjusted his posture as if to decide that was the truth. “It was mystique. We wanted the unknown. Now, we’ll know and be better for it.”

“This is the choice. My choice.” You mumbled, feeling ghosted by a strange memory.

Donnie took you in with an arched brow.

You gave him your best hopeful smile and tried to translate you weren’t sure how to explain it. “Risk-reward.”

“Which am I?” His curious air shifted to a teasing one.

“Let’s see...?” You moved closer.

You both stood staring at each other for what felt like too long.

Your lips pursed to break the silence and he leaned in.

It surprised both of you.

Sharing the farce and nerves, it brought the two of you together. Arms slipping away to make room for bodies, you perched your hands wide on his shoulders to steady yourself. His slid comfortably around your waist to balance you and, in a flick of your gaze, you were back in his space. Tilting your head and with him mirroring, goosebumps ripped through you in anticipation. It came with a bump of his beak to your nose where you both smiled before your lips caught.

For a moment there was nothing.

The cold lunar surface.

Then, there was warmth.

So much of it you thought you might explode.

It flooded every single neuron as you pushed all your weight into him to siphon more despite its scald.

Everything else fell away.

If he took up space in the sky as just him, touching him like this made him everything.

No worries.

No anxiety.

Only him.

You were safe.

How many times had he saved you?

You were comfortable.

Talking to him came so easily you forgot yourself.

It was effortless.

The gravity a light one, you could make leaps and bounds with him around.

Just enough that you wouldn’t spiral off into space.

His arms held you tight.

What a guiding light he was.

Why had you ever thought the moon was cold?

The moon controlled the tides.

The moon kept everything in place.

The moon was.

With a final needy nudge, Donnie disengaged.

It took every fiber of your being not to chase him.

He openly panted some sort of exertion and butted his forehead to yours.

You stroked his cheek and held each other like that.

Warmth settled a heavy weight in your stomach and you committed his blurry visage to memory.

You weren’t going to see him like this again.

“How do you feel?” You whispered something like a wisp.

“Light.” He spoke.

You giggled.

You could feel a ferocious grin on him more than see it.

He tugged lightly and it bumped your noses together again.

You turned it into the faintest nuzzle.

He made a sweet chirpy noise.

“That…” You spoke and something about it dispelled the magic.

You were both pulling away.

The self-consciousness set in.

“Well!” Donnie cleared the air. “I will… see you around… I suppose…”

“Y-Yeah…” You folded your arms around yourself to trap the heat leaking from you.

“I… apologize. I’m going to watch you go inside. I want to make sure you make it…” He took a calculated step back from the stoop.

“Yeah… I don’t blame you…” You readied to go inside before a different emptiness caught your attention. “Um, my… my stuff…?”

“Your…?” For a second, he didn’t understand and then he did. “Y-yes!” He patted himself down and grabbed several objects to pass to you. “Here.” 

The largest object was your plush which was now covered in muck. “Oh…” 

“Raph knows a way to wash them…!” 

“O-Oh…. G-good… I’ll ask… Mikey to… uh, send that over…”

Donnie nodded so hard it affected his balance. 

“I just need my…” You searched for your keys in the pile and found a smaller foreign object stacked amongst your things. 

Time slowed as you turned over the object in your palm to find it was something soft, small, and black. 

Its face emerged like a little puppy looking up at you hopeful for adoption. 

You immediately recognized it as one of the bean dog key chains from the counter. “This-! Where-!?” 

Your gaze shot to Donnie. 

He was grimacing with his entire body. 

“I… meant to keep that…” He wheezed. 

Your heart plummeted as you held it out for him to take back. 

“No!” He shouted too loud for the both of you. 

Your hand closed to protect the dog. 

“That…” His gaze weighed down with guilt. “It is for you. It was always for you. I mean… I wasn’t going to give it to you. I wanted to, but…” 

You waited. 

“Its name is Black Bean…” He spoke as if that would explain everything. “The tag says it has a tendency to… stare and hide…” Donnie glanced away. 

It was a simile if you had ever heard one. 

It was a memento for you. 

You felt your very being percolate. 

“You should keep it…” He gave a little giving gesture with his hands. 

You weren’t sure you could have given it back to him.

You needed Black Bean like your life depended on it. 

He was now your prized possession. 

He was your memento now. 

Something tangible.

“I’ll tell Mikey about the mugging…” You managed, squeezing your prize tight. “If that’s okay?”

“Of course!” Donnie rubbed an arm. “I hope you’ll be alright…”

“I’m sure the trauma will hit me when I lay down…” You gave an awkward laugh before what you said sank into your spine like a cold injection.

“That’s bad…” He remarked with a sort of stunted horror.

“N-Not different from any other night-!” You held your full hands out. “I’m gonna go inside!!” You turned around. “Thank you!”

“O-of course…!”

“Good night, Donnie!” You wrangled your keys and yanked the door.

“Good night-!”

You rushed inside.

“… Y/N…”

The door closed behind you.

(Check out behind the scenes for this fic and more on my Patreon. You can follow me there, here, or the tag #sunshinemoonshinefic for updates)

This big papa chapter was kindly reviewed by my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

[amiti-art]

HI! I’m here to ask honest opinion on….Lore Olympus. I’m sorry for putting my opinion here….but I hate it. I’m sorry, I try to see it in a good way….put it paints Apollo as a horrible person. And there are other things that I’d respectfully don’t like about it.However, I want to see your opinion. That is if you’re willing to share it. BTW, I fricking love your drawings., especially the ones about Apollo and his myths! Have a good day or night!

Hello!

I'm glad you like my art 🫶🏻

So, Lore Olympus.

This probably won't come as a surprise to most people, considering how much Apollo art I've made, but I hate Lore Olympus. And not only because of how poorly Apollo was portrayed there.

I'm going to be honest with you: I never read much of it. I read maybe a few chapters some years ago because it was advertised as Greek mythology retelling, but I didn't continue because it was boring to me.

Much later, I saw a lot of posts pointing out all the things wrong with Lore Olympus, and boy oh boy, it's bad.

From what I've seen, it’s hardly a retelling; if the names of the characters were changed, nobody would realize this is supposed to be myth-inspired.

And look, I'm not saying you can't change anything when making a Greek mythology retelling, because it's simply impossible to keep everything the same as in the myths—especially when you want to create a story that covers many myths. The math isn't mathing when it comes to Greek mythology, because the myths changed over time, and different city-states had their own versions of the stories, so it's pretty impossible to make a cohesive timeline without changing something.

But from what I've seen, there isn't much Greek influence in this Greek mythology retelling. From the way the characters dress and speak to the food they eat, there is nothing Greek about this comic, it’s completely Americanized.

And I hate Americanization so much. I remember watching Netflix's "The Witcher" and being so disappointed because there was nothing Slavic about it. They kept Jaskier's original name from the books and called it a day. They turned it into another generic fantasy show.

I know that many Greek people feel the same way about Lore Olympus and other American adaptations of their myths. I love Percy Jackson, but the whole "gods moved to the USA because this is where Western civilization is" is just so icky to me. Greece still exists, hello??????

Back to Lore Olympus. For some reason it's fans think that the comic is a valid source for mythology, and they spread so much misinformation.

For the last time: Persephone was abducted in the myths. There is no version where she goes to the Underworld on her own.

Demeter is a heartbroken mother looking for her beloved daughter, not some evil helicopter parent standing between Persephone and her happiness. Justice for Apollo and Demeter.

Also, Persephone is sometimes drawn like a child and looks more like Hades' daughter than his wife. Why?????

And from what I've seen, Persephone is ridiculously powerful for some reason and fights Kronos or something???????

Also, apparently, Leto is portrayed as a manipulative mother????? Leto??? The Titan goddess of motherhood??? Why????

I don't understand why this comic got so popular, to be honest. Probably because of the artstyle.

[tomorrowxtogether]

Tomorrow X Together's Yeonjun on solo release: 'I'm going to keep challenging myself'

Yeonjun of popular K-pop group Tomorrow X Together isn't one to shy away from a challenge. Over the last five years, the Korean performer has built a reputation alongside his four bandmates as a versatile all-rounder who can execute any choreography or genre thrown his way.

"When I was young, I just purely loved music and dance, and that love is all I had. After it became my career, music became a source of both joy and sometimes stress for me," Yeonjun tells USA TODAY. "Still, I feel like music takes such a big part of my life. I think music is what allows me to be really free and really express myself as I am."

Now, the 25-year-old is taking a new step in his evolving career. Yeonjun released his first solo mixtape, "GGUM," Sept. 19.

"I'm super excited, but at the same time, I'm kind of nervous," he says. "This is my first time doing a solo project, I do feel a bit of a pressure, and I feel responsible for doing a good job."

Curating 'GGUM' and its concept

"I'm always looking for opportunities to expand my artistry, expand my different musical performances," Yeonjun shares. "During the middle of the US tour, we started talking about this project, and we slowly built on that."

"GGUM" and its feature track highlight Yeonjun's vibrant tonality. The hip-hop inspired song is bold and dynamic, commanding attention from the second you hit play. So how'd it get its name?

"I was actually chewing on gum when I was in the car, and it just came to me all of a sudden," Yeonjun reveals.

When you're chewing gum, you can exude a certain swagger and confidence, he says. "I think that vibe really suited me well, and I thought it was a perfect concept for my first solo project," Yeonjun adds.

"GGUM" is striking in its lyrics, sonics and performance – "Blow and spit out a banger, this song's now stuck in your head," Yeonjun raps. His flow is fierce and unfaltering, while the choreography is kinetic and intense. Yeonjun helped develop the track's dance.

Facing challenges solo: 'It was no walk in the park'

Yeonjun's first solo project tested his mettle.

"Honestly speaking, I thought I was ready for this, but then I realized after working on it, that it was no walk in the park," he shares.

"It was really difficult. It was very challenging to do the vocals, the rap and the dance all at once. I tried doing everything at the same time. It's very tiring. So while working on the choreo and the song, I came to really respect solo artists," Yeonjun adds.

But Yeonjun's experiences with a group helped him along the way. "I think only because I am part of Tomorrow X Together – and I've been through so much together with them – that's why I could try this. I could take on this challenge," he says.

"If I weren't in the team, I don't think this would have been possible," Yeonjun adds.

Even though Soobin, Beomgyu, Taehyun and Hueningkai are not performing alongside him, Yeonjun felt their support.

"I did feel a lot of stress, a lot of pressure, sometimes to the point that it almost scared me. Whenever I was met with those emotions, the bandmates would come to me, they would give me a lot of words of encouragement and boost my self-confidence and self-assurance," he says. "Thanks to them, I could pull it off and finish this journey."

Yeonjun vows to 'keep challenging myself'

Yeonjun hopes "GGUM" can be a "pleasant shock to everyone." He has already established his identity through TXT, but this mixtape allows him peel back another layer.

"I hope that the people would feel that I'm bringing something new to the table," Yeonjun says. "I think it's a new start for me and a new challenge that I took on. It really means the world to me."

Yeonjun will continue to build upon the foundation he has previously laid, whether it's with Tomorrow X Together or on his own.

"I want to keep pushing my musical boundaries and make sure that I expand my artistic spectrum, and I'm going to keep challenging myself," he says.

[inaconstantstateofchange]

A Snippet Shared | Minthara x Karlach

There's no real tag game motivation behind this, but I'm proud of this snippet and not sure when I'll finish the larger oneshot it is a part of, so I'm putting it here for now.

Note: Set post-canon, with Minthara and Karlach in Avernus together.

Karlach, gracious in victory – at least this once – doesn’t belabor her point. And she, too, is undoubtedly impatient to take advantage of this potential windfall. “Now, don’t go expecting some grand beacon of hospitality. We’ll be slumming it with the finest dregs Zariel’s legions leave behind them, b-u-t—four walls! That’s basically the Elfsong, at this point!”

Minthara nods, deadpan, as she agrees with Karlach’s determination. “An apt comparison, my love. The music certainly sounds similar enough.”

Karlach nods enthusiastically, half her quick-paced mind already mapping out the path before them as she scans the desolate horizon. Minthara waits for the constant background noise of Avernus – the wails of doomed petitioners forming a melody with the snarls and clashes of distant engagements – to filter back into her hearing. Karlach has proven quicker and quicker to pick up on her little jests, and this one was surely obvious enough—There. Karlach whirls back around, pointing at her accusatorily. 

“You—you! The music is similar, oooh! How many of those little jokes did you slip past everyone back then?”

Minthara smiles, slow and toothy. “More than you would ever believe, dear one.”

[sylvies-kablooie]

trying to imagine what sylvie's apartment would look like and there is a part of me that thinks about how the last time we saw her enjoy her freedom as a child, she was playing with that dragon- and now that she is somewhere safe and stable there MIGHT be a chance she would purchase some little toys.

it's about doing what you couldn't growing up and reclaiming that autonomy that was lost. it's about holding that childhood she never got to have close and saying that yeah, a little friendly guy WOULD look nice in this room i earned, not only with my survival, but also just for being alive- people should get to do and enjoy things that make them feel loved!!

she would definitely think it hurts her deadly image at first but in reality no one cares and they all just let the woman buy a damn shark plush at the aquarium.

[mx-paint]

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[vox-off]

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[alphalesbian]

Youll just be minding your own business when all of a sudden the inherant intimacy of solo instrumental music is realized upon you. Like youre just supposed to proceed normally after