#makes it feel grounded without needing to do all the grounding. anchors a character. starts the conversation with the game properly.

[asheyxash]

you're my happy virus

pairing: dokyeom x reader troupe: est. relationship genre(s): SM FLUFF!! warning(s): none word count: ~1k summary: as long as she's with him and he's with her, they couldn't be happier.

part 1 | part 2 (you're here)

being in a relationship with lee seokmin feels like waking up in a meadow where every flower is smiling at you.

it’s sunshine in the smallest places — in the morning texts that start with “goodmorning sunshine!!” and end with eight typos because he refuses to use autocorrect. it’s the way he greets you like you’ve just come home from a year-long space mission, even if you only left to grab a smoothie. “you’re back!!!” he gasps dramatically every time, arms outstretched like a cartoon character. “i thought the wind carried you away!” you giggle. every time. because how could you not?

dk is joy personified. a walking serotonin sparkler. the kind of person who makes your bad days feel like they’re wearing bunny ears just to look less scary. and being his partner? it’s like winning a golden ticket to the world’s fluffiest amusement park. he holds your hand like he’s still not used to being allowed to. like he still can’t believe you’re real. “can i hold your hand?” he asks sometimes, even when it’s already laced in his. “just checking. what if you changed your mind in the last five minutes?” you roll your eyes and squeeze tighter. “you’re ridiculous.”

he grins, cheeky. “and ridiculously lucky.”

sometimes, it’s quiet moments. like watching movies where he cries before the sad part and tries to hide it behind popcorn. or when he sings softly to you under his breath without realizing — some half-written melody he’s been working on, the notes curling between you like thread made of light. sometimes, it’s loud moments. like when he drags you into impromptu living room dance-offs to old cheesy love songs, spinning you around like a prince who just found his ballgown-wearing soulmate in socks and pajamas. “my queen,” he says with a bow, tripping over a throw pillow. “may i have this boogie?” you laugh so hard your sides hurt. but he always catches you mid-spin, pulling you into his chest like the happiest human safety net in the world.

he (also) leaves post-it notes on everything. and i mean everything. on your mirror: “have you seen how cute you are today?! cuz i have. 12 times. minimum.” on your lunch: “this sandwich was made with 2% mayo and 98% love.” on your phone: “come find me. i have snacks and cuddles and a playlist that reminds me of you.” and when you do find him — sprawled on the couch with a blanket already ready for two — he looks up with that smile. that smile.

the one that still, somehow, takes your breath away. the one that says i’m so glad you’re here. the one that says i love you, i love you, i love you without needing a single word.

you learn that dk’s love is layered.

it’s loud and silly — like bear hugs that lift you off the ground, exaggerated gasps when you wear his hoodie, and late-night texts that say “hey. i miss your face. come over so i can look at it for five hours.” but it’s also soft and quiet — like the way he strokes your hair absentmindedly when you’re resting, or how he always remembers to keep your favorite snack stocked, or the way his gaze lingers on you during the in-between moments, like he’s memorizing you all over again.

you catch him staring sometimes. when you’re brushing your teeth, or reading, or just tying your shoelaces. “what?” you ask, laughing. “nothing,” he shrugs, smiling like he’s full of a secret. “just… lucky.” your heart still does that bouncy jumpy thingy whenever he stares at you like you're the most perfect girl in the world (which to him you probably were) because one word could already melt you into a smile.

and when you have hard days — when the world feels too loud, too fast, too much — dk becomes your anchor. he pulls you into his chest, hums silly little lullabies, and says, “you don’t have to be sunshine every day, you know. i can be sunshine for both of us.” he kisses your forehead so gently, you think your heart might burst from the sheer safety of it. and it makes you cry, sometimes. because how can one person hold so much warmth in a single soul?

on the anniversary of your confession, he plans a whole day full of surprises.

there’s a homemade brunch with heart-shaped pancakes (he burns the first three but you eat them anyway), a scavenger hunt through the park with clues that rhyme (poorly), and a picnic with your favorite snacks — right under the same tree where you first confessed. he brings out a tiny cake with your names on it, piped in squiggly frosting. it’s a bit lopsided, but the effort makes it perfect. “happy one year of ruining my emotional stability with your cuteness,” he declares, clinking his juice box against yours.

you giggle, cheeks flushed. “and happy one year of you brightening not just my life, but my whole world too...we're really made for each other.” he smiles. softer this time. the kind of smile that feels like dusk — golden, still, and full of wonder. “you know,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “you’re my happy virus too.” your heart flips. “you always say i make you smile,” he continues, “but being with you… it feels like coming home. like sunshine doesn’t have to shine so hard because it knows you’re there, too.”

and maybe you cry. just a little. he wipes your tears with his thumb and presses the gentlest kiss to your temple. “i mean it,” he says. “you’re the reason i laugh without warning. the reason i hum on my way to practice. the reason i wake up excited every single day. you infected me with love in the best possible way.”

and this boy — this sunbeam of a person — chose you. continues to choose you. every single day, with the same excitement, like he’s falling all over again. as the sky blushes orange behind him, he pulls out a tiny speaker from his backpack. “one last thing,” he grins. he plays your favorite song — the one that played in his car the first time you held hands — and stands up, holding his hand out.

“dance with me?”

there’s no music loud enough to drown out your heartbeat, but you take his hand anyway. and there, under the fading sun and twinkling laughter, you dance like the whole world is clapping just for the two of you.

because being with dk doesn’t just feel like falling in love. it feels like becoming love itself. soft, steady, and impossibly bright.

and the best part?

he’s still looking at you like he'd just won the lottery.

oh wait, he did.

he had you.

[outeremissary]

Poll about creating characters for a game really has me thinking about my methods because while I don't usually situate a character in the world/create a full backstory beforehand I feel like I need such a strong sense of who a character is, how they behave, and at least the skeleton of why they behave like that that I usually get bored and feel like I'm playing some flat nothing when I don't have that. I guess that isn't the same as having a fully rigid concept, especially since I'm happy to change things radically in conversation with a game when it's going well, but it's still enough of a distinct Guy Who Already Exists In My Brain I couldn't call it a loose concept. And usually when things go well for my looser concept characters and I develop them during a playthrough I just hit a point partway through where it's like... cool! I have completed the concept for this character now, I can stop playing and relocate them to a Real Story. They almost never feel like they fit right until they're in something where they're starting from that state, haha. I'm like this with tabletop stuff as well. I'm not always the ten page backstory guy but if I'm not at least coming in with some needlessly complex portrait of personality the character is not going to stick for more than a oneshot. Just doesn't interest me to play! I don't feel like I'm seeing through their eyes yet. Can't get in the right zone mentally. I think that's what it's really about for me- a loose concept is rarely immersive, and without that immersion I just struggle to feel like the actions are coming from the character instead of me and come together into a cohesive story about the character (rather than one about me pushing buttons).

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

✨ HOW TO ACTUALLY START A BOOK

(no ✨vibes✨, just structure, stakes, and first-sentence sweat)

hello writer friends 💌 so you opened a doc. you sat down. you cracked your knuckles. maybe you even made a playlist or moodboard. and then… you stared at the blinking cursor like it personally insulted your entire bloodline.

here’s your intervention. this post is for when you want to write chapter one, but all you have is aesthetic, maybe a plot bunny, maybe a world idea, maybe nothing at all. here’s how to actually start a book, from structure to sentence one.

—

🌶️ STEP 1: THE SPICE BASE ~ “WHAT’S CHANGING?”

start with this question:

what changes in the protagonist’s life in the first 5–10 pages?

doesn’t have to be earth-shattering. they could get a letter, lose a job, run late, break a rule, wake up hungover in the wrong house. what matters is disruption. the opening of your book should mark a shift. if their day starts normal, it shouldn’t end that way.

🏁 opening chapters are about motion. forward movement. tension. momentum. if nothing is changing, your story isn’t starting, you’re just doing a prequel.

—

⚙️ STEP 2: THE CRUNCHY BITS - CHOOSE AN ENTRY POINT

there are 3 classic places to start a novel. each one works if you’re intentional:

The Day Everything Changes most popular. you drop us in right before or during the inciting incident. clean, fast, efficient.

pro: immediate stakes con: harder to sneak in worldbuilding or character grounding

The Calm Before the Storm starts slightly earlier. show the character’s “normal” life, then break it. useful if the change won’t make sense without context.

pro: space to introduce your character’s routine/flaws con: risky if it drags or feels like setup

The Aftermath drop us in after the big event and fill in gaps as we go. works well for thrillers, mysteries, or emotionally heavy plots.

pro: instant drama con: requires precision to avoid confusion

📝 pick one. commit. don’t blend them or you’ll write three intros at once and cry.

—

🧠 STEP 3: CHARACTER FIRST, ALWAYS

readers don’t care about your setting, your magic system, or your cool mafia politics unless they’re anchored in someone.

in the first scene, we need to know:

what this person wants

what’s bothering them (externally or internally)

one trait they lead with (bold, anxious, calculating, naive, etc.)

that’s it. just one want, one tension, one vibe. no bios. no monologues. no “they weren’t like other girls” essays. put them in a situation and show how they act.

—

⛓️ STEP 4: OPEN WITH FRICTION

first scenes should create questions, not answer them.

there should be tension between:

what the character wants vs. what they’re getting

what’s happening vs. what they expected

what’s being said vs. what’s being felt

you don’t need a gunshot or a car crash (unless you want one). you need conflict. tension = momentum = readers keep reading.

—

✏️ STEP 5: WRITE THE FIRST SENTENCE - THEN IGNORE IT

okay. now you write it.

no pressure. you’re not tattooing it on your soul. this isn’t the final line on the final page. you just need something.

tricks that work:

start in the middle of an action

start with a contradiction

start with something unexpected, funny, or sharp

start with a small lie or a weird detail

💬 examples:

“The body was exactly where she’d left it - rude.” “He was already two hours late to his own kidnapping.” “There was blood on the welcome mat. Again.” “They said don’t open the door. She opened it anyway.”

once you’ve got it? keep going. don’t revise yet. don’t edit. just build momentum.

you can come back and make it ✨iconic✨ later.

—

📦 BONUS: WHAT NOT TO DO IN YOUR OPENING

don’t start with a dream

don’t info-dump lore in paragraph one

don’t give me three pages of your OC making toast

don’t try to sound like a Victorian cryptid unless it’s on purpose

don’t introduce 7 named characters in one scene

don’t start with a quote unless you are 800% sure it slaps

be weird. be sharp. be specific. aim for interest, not perfection.

—

🏁 TL;DR (but make it ✨useful✨)

something in your MC’s life should change immediately

pick a structural entry point and stick to it

give us a person, not a setting

friction = good

first lines are disposable, just make them interesting

and if you needed a sign to just start the damn book, this is it.

💌 love, -rin t.

P.S. I made a free mini eBook about the 5 biggest mistakes writers make in the first 10 pages 👀 you can grab it here for FREE:

[bvrnesher]

❝ so, kiss me ! ❞ ― pjo / hoo boys !

tap here for chb masterlist ! here for reqs info

summary: how would the pjo/hoo boys kiss you? ! stablished relationship ! gender neutral

— 💐 characters: percy jackson, jason grace, leo valdez, frank zhang. + luke castellan (longest), nico di angelo, will solace.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ꪆ ✦ 𑊁 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

𐙚 — Percy Jackson

Percy would kiss you like it’s a habit—like breathing, like something he needs to do to function properly. He doesn’t make a big deal out of it, doesn’t give you a speech every time. He just sees you and thinks, yeah, I need to kiss her now, and then he does.

It’s casual most of the time. He’ll lean in and kiss you mid-sentence, just because. He kisses you when you hand him something, when you roll your eyes at him, when he’s bored, when you’re annoyed—especially when you’re annoyed. Smirking, eyes gleaming like don’t be mad at me, and then bam—mouth on yours. It’s stupid and effective and you hate how much it works.

But when it’s not casual? When it matters? God. He gets serious. Like, hands on either side of your face, pulling you in like he can’t risk you floating away. He kisses you like he’s anchoring himself. Like the world could end tomorrow and if he’s kissing you right now, maybe it won’t matter. It’s slow, deep, and intentional. Not just lips, but thumbs brushing skin, fingers curling at your waist, like he needs to memorize every part of you.

And afterward—he doesn’t say much. He just rests his forehead against yours and lets out that soft little breath, like okay, I’m good now. And you are too. Because when Percy kisses you, it’s not about perfection. It’s about feeling everything. All at once. Always.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ꪆ ✦ 𑊁 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

𐙚 — Jason Grace

Jason would kiss you like he’s got all the time in the world. Like every time he does it, it’s a quiet declaration—I’m here, I’m yours, I’m not going anywhere. He’s steady, grounded. He doesn’t rush. He chooses to kiss you, every time. And he makes sure you feel that.

He’s not big on PDA, but he’s also not subtle. He’ll brush a knuckle under your chin, tilt your face up gently, and look at you like you’re the answer to every prayer he didn’t know he made. Then he kisses you—firm, warm, and careful, like he’s making a promise with his mouth.

But when you’re alone? Oh, that’s different. That’s when he lets go a little. He presses you up against the kitchen counter or pulls you into his lap without a word. His kisses get heavier, slower. His hands slide up your back, tangle in your hair, and he kisses you like he’s pouring lightning into your veins—but in that quiet, controlled Jason way. Like he’s holding back the storm just for you.

And he always pulls back like he’s reluctant. Like the only reason he stopped is because he had to. His forehead rests against yours, and he smiles—soft, private, a little bit shy, like the fact that he gets to kiss you still surprises him sometimes.

Jason Grace kisses you like he’s built a temple out of trust and handed you the key. Every kiss says, you’re safe here. Every single time.

+ his cheeks are always flushed after kissing you.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ꪆ ✦ 𑊁 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

𐙚 — Leo Valdez

Leo kisses you like it’s a game he’s already won but still wants to play over and over. Like he’s addicted to the way you melt under his hands, and he’s not even trying to hide it. He’s the kind of guy who kisses you just to see your reaction—grinning against your mouth, one hand on your hip and the other already getting ideas.

It always starts playful. Always. He teases you first—throws in a flirty comment, smirks, gets way too close and just waits for you to cave. And when you do? He kisses you like fire—hot, fast, and impossible to ignore. His fingers are everywhere: tracing your jaw, tangling in your hair, gripping your waist like he’s holding on for dear life.

And he’s so unfair about it. He’ll kiss you like he’s starving, then pull back just enough to breathe something ridiculous against your lips like, “Wow. You’re kind of dangerously hot, you know that?”—and then go right back in, smug as hell.

But then sometimes—when it’s late, when you’re both tired and everything’s quiet—he gets serious. Like all the jokes drop away, and suddenly he’s kissing you slow. Intentional. Focused. No smirks, no games. Just Leo, warm and real, brushing his thumb across your cheek while he kisses you like he’s scared he’ll mess it up if he doesn’t get it exactly right.

And when he pulls away, he always looks at you like you’re his favorite invention. Something brilliant he still can’t believe he gets to keep.

Because Leo Valdez kisses you like he’s falling—every damn time—and he doesn’t mind the landing.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ꪆ ✦ 𑊁 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

𐙚 — Frank Zhang

Frank kisses you like it’s sacred. Like every time his lips touch yours, he’s silently thanking the universe that you chose him. He’s not flashy about it—he doesn’t need to be. He’s gentle, deliberate. His hands always find your waist first, like he’s making sure you’re really there, grounding himself before he gets lost in you.

And at first? He’s a little shy about it. Not hesitant—respectful. Like he doesn’t want to rush a moment that means everything to him. He kisses you softly, slowly, and fully, like he’s trying to tell you everything he can’t say out loud in one perfect motion. His lips are warm, steady, and always lingering just a little longer than expected.

But when he’s sure—when he’s confident that you want this as much as he does? That’s when it gets deep. He pulls you in closer, arms wrapping around you like a shield, like he’s protecting you from everything. His kisses become heavier, surer, and his hands shake a little because he feels so much and he’s still figuring out how to carry it all.

And afterward? He gets that soft, slightly flustered look. His cheeks pink, eyes kind of wide like he can’t believe he just did that—but there’s this tiny smile tugging at his lips. Like he’s proud. And in love. And maybe a little dazed by you.

Frank Zhang kisses you like he’s memorizing the way you feel against his heart. Like you’re the most important thing he’s ever had—and he’s not letting go.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ꪆ ✦ 𑊁 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

𐙚 — Luke Castellan

Luke kisses you like he already knows you’re going to kiss him back. There’s confidence in it—not exactly cocky, just sure. Like he’s memorized every way your lips move, how you breathe, where your hands go when he leans in. He doesn’t ask to kiss you, he decides to—like it’s inevitable. And it always is.

He’s smooth about it. Not flashy. He’ll glance at you once, tilt his head a little, and boom—your heart’s in your throat before he even touches you. His kisses start slow, controlled. Calculated, even. He wants to feel it build. He doesn’t rush—he savors. Lips brushing, lingering, waiting just long enough to make you chase him a little.

And when you do? That’s when he grins. That lazy, golden-boy grin that says yeah, I knew you would. He’ll kiss you deeper then, tilting your chin up, fingers brushing your jaw, warm and deliberate. One hand always finds its way to your lower back—pulling you in like he’s claiming something he already owns.

But, hey, stop. He’s complicated, remember? Cause he also kisses you like...

... he’s letting you in on a secret. Like every time his mouth touches yours, he’s handing you a piece of him he doesn’t trust the world with. It’s not gentle, not at first—he doesn’t do tentative. His kiss is deliberate, composed, and frustratingly slow. He’s the kind of person who tests every boundary, every reaction, who reads you like a battlefield—and kisses you the same way.

He doesn’t throw passion at you in waves—he studies you. Starts with a brush of his thumb on your jaw, a smirk on his lips. He makes you wait a second longer than necessary—on purpose—because he likes the way you look at him when you’re just barely holding back. Then he kisses you, steady and unflinching, and suddenly you realize: Luke doesn’t kiss to flirt. He kisses to own the moment.

It’s the kind of kiss that leaves no room to think. The kind that leaves you breathless because it’s paced like a strategy—slow where it counts, intense when it catches you off guard, then pulling away just when you need more. He’ll tilt his head and whisper something against your lips like, “What, already breathless?” and go back in like it was nothing.

But he’s not cruel. He just doesn’t know how to stop protecting himself—even from you.

Cause Luke also kisses you like he’s still learning how to be safe. But gods, he wants you to be the one he learns with.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ꪆ ✦ 𑊁 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

𐙚 — Nico di Angelo

Nico kisses you like it costs him something—but he’s willing to pay it. Every time.

He’s not casual about it. Not the type to steal kisses in front of others or kiss you just because he’s bored. No—when Nico kisses you, it’s because something in him needs it. Needs you. Needs to remind himself he’s still alive and tethered and not as alone as he used to be.

It starts awkward, always. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he second-guesses everything. He hesitates. Looks at your mouth like it’s a cliff he’s about to jump from, like he’s doing mental math on whether you’ll still be there when he lands. But when he finally commits? It’s all in.

He kisses like he feels—deep, intense, almost too much. His hand might shake a little when it cups your face, but his mouth is firm, focused. Nico doesn’t do “soft” the first time—he does real. It’s the kind of kiss that grabs your heart and doesn’t let go. The kind that makes you forget how cold the world used to feel before he let you in.

He breaks the kiss slowly, like he’s still trying to hold onto it. And then he looks at you—eyes dark and wide, a little scared, a little stunned, like he’s thinking I can’t believe I let myself do that, followed immediately by I really, really want to do it again.

And eventually—when he trusts it, when he trusts you—he gets more comfortable. Kisses you in the quiet moments. Brushing his lips against your temple while you read. A kiss to the back of your hand before a mission. The kind of affection that says: you’re the only person I let see this side of me. And I don’t want anyone else to.

Because Nico di Angelo doesn’t kiss to flirt. He kisses like it’s the first time he’s ever been allowed to want something—and not have it taken away.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ꪆ ✦ 𑊁 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

𐙚 — Will Solace

Will kisses you like he already misses you—and you’re right there.

There’s something urgent about the way he leans in. Not rushed, just intentional. Like he’s been thinking about it all day and now that he finally has you close, he’s going to make the most of it. His hands go straight to your waist, your cheeks, the back of your neck—he needs the contact. His lips press against yours with this steady kind of heat, like he’s trying to pour sunlight into your chest.

And he fucking smiles into it, every time. Like he can’t help it. Like kissing you is his favorite thing in the world and he’s a little surprised every time that it’s real.

He’s the type to whisper something just before he kisses you—“Missed you,” or “You’re so pretty like this,” or even just a soft, shaky “Hey.” Because for all his brightness, Will feels everything deeply. So yeah, the kiss might start playful—light, teasing, brushing his nose against yours with a quiet laugh—but the moment he really feels you respond? Game over.

Will deepens the kiss like he’s grounding himself. Like you’re his anchor in a storm only he can feel. And when it gets softer—when the laughter fades and it’s just breath and hands and closeness—you can tell this is where he lives. Not in the chaos. Not in the crowd. In you.

And after? He pulls away just enough to look at you. His thumb brushing your cheek, eyes all golden and crinkled, like the sun’s still stuck in his lashes. And he says it—not with a dramatic flair, not with fear. Just gently. “I love you.” Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Because with Will, it is.

— 💐 a/n : This is my version and interpretation of each of the characters as I understand them! If you don't like my interpretation or the way I wrote any of them, fuck off. Seriously, I don't care.

Plus, Luke's the longest one cause he's such a... complicated character, like, he has many layers, and I didn't know which one to write, so I did it like this. I mean, all the characters here have a lot of abilities, but Luke? Luke is a different case.

[deesseshesca]

PAC : How do I unblock myself ?

I am the baddie and the CEO !

PERSONAL READING (SALE) (LINK)

FIRE TO THE MOON

FUTURE LOVE + SEX DOUALA = 40$ (2for1)

DOWN TO MY CORE

CHARACTER UPDAPTE + LORE DUMP = 40$ (2for1)

PILE 1

SONG : DENIAL IS RIVER - Doechii

You’ve been carrying the weight of your own potential like a secret, whispering your brilliance instead of shouting it to the world. But here’s the truth: you are radiant, and your beauty—inside and out—is a currency that opens doors others can’t even see. Stop pretending it’s not. Stop shrinking to make others comfortable.

The path forward is in embracing what you already know but are hesitant to accept: your uniqueness is not just a gift; it’s your power. You don’t need to downplay it to seem more “relatable” or “deserving.” That humility you think keeps you grounded is only a chain, not an anchor. Let it go.

You’ve already built a foundation with so much love and intention, but it’s time to celebrate it. Celebrate yourself. Success isn’t meant to be a struggle at every turn, and the easiest path to it is the one that feels natural—effortless even. Trust the parts of you that others admire, the parts you sometimes brush aside.

This isn’t about arrogance; it’s about truth. Lean into your talents, your charm, and your allure without apology. Once you do, you’ll find the rhythm of your life moving in harmony with your dreams. That’s when the celebration begins—not just for you, but for everything you’ll inspire in those lucky enough to witness your journey.

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

PILE 2

SONG : WAHALA - CKay ft Olamide

You’ve been circling the same path, trying to figure out why you can’t break free. The answer? You’ve been holding the key this entire time, but you’re afraid to use it. You keep telling yourself it’s safer to stay where you are—working hard, waiting for the moment when things finally make sense. But deep down, you know that moment won’t come until you let go of what no longer serves you.

You’re stuck in a cycle because you’re clinging to an old way of being, one that feels familiar but drains you. You’ve been trying to build something solid without fully trusting your vision, collaborating without trusting yourself. That hesitation is keeping your world small.

The truth is, the only way forward is through. You have to let yourself feel the disappointment of what didn’t work out and stop looking for clarity in the same old places. You already know what needs to change, even if it feels uncomfortable or risky. Stop waiting for permission to want more, to ask for more, to be more.

Your breakthrough is on the other side of surrender. Not to the cycle, but to yourself. Let go of what’s blocking you—fear, overthinking, or even relationships that don’t inspire you. Start creating from a place of passion instead of perfection, and watch how quickly the walls around you crumble. This is your chance to rewrite the story and step into the life you’ve been dreaming of. It’s waiting for you, but you have to decide you’re ready.

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

PILE 3

SONG : OZEBA - Rema

You’ve been standing at a crossroads, torn between the safe path and the one that whispers promises of power you’ve been too afraid to claim. That hesitation, that fear of stepping into the unknown, has left you feeling disconnected—not just from others, but from yourself. It’s time to face the truth: you can’t keep running from the shadows when they’re the very place your light is meant to shine.

You’ve been rejecting parts of yourself that are raw, intense, and undeniably magnetic, all in an effort to stay within the lines someone else drew for you. But those lines? They were never meant for you. The parts of yourself you’ve been hiding—the hunger, the ambition, the fire—aren’t flaws. They’re your power, waiting to be unleashed.

Embracing your dark side doesn’t mean losing control; it means reclaiming it. The things you’ve been taught to fear—your desires, your intuition, even the mysteries of the occult—are tools, not traps. They’re there to guide you, to help you break free from the chains of self-doubt and scarcity.

You don’t need permission to step into this version of yourself. You don’t need anyone else’s approval to explore the magic that lives within you. This is your moment to shed the fear, to rewrite the rules, and to rise—unapologetically. Let your curiosity lead you into the unknown, and trust that even in the darkest corners, you’ll find exactly what you need to create the life you’ve been craving.

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

[dors-ee]

Hmmm

If Ekko really became her rock, her anchor. Truly helped her mentally, giving her the love she's been craving for, finally.

If he finally convinced her to build something new someone worth building it for (and I supoose he'd be that for her)

it doesn't make sense for Jinx to die/leave.

It doesn't make sense for her to still believe that strongly that he would be better without her, that the world would be better without her (like she lived with the firelights for a while, the artbook has her call it home, peace, friendship, protect, etc.) ... or that she would be better without him.

Tbh I think her "death" and her leaving was more so a narrative trick than something that truly make sense for her character. And yeaah, I guess it kinda works for Vi, but it ... cheapens what the MV showed with timebomb. It takes a lot of depth away from it. (And I do not like that.)

Like I... Before the MV I could justify it, with her thinking he would be better without her, that she needed to find herself alone, didn't think she needed him or was good enough for him, etc etc.

I could really justify it before the MV... Even if he did convince her to fight and live, and yes that implied he had been important for her mentally.

It wasn't so... strong. It wasn't shown.

But like this MV screams : he loves her for who she is. He will be there even when she is at the bottom, even laying on the ground (death) he will be there.

He will be there on the ledge with her to catch her/welcome her back. He loves her for who she is.

He offers something new, hope, redemption...

And it is shown that she really relies and leans on him then. No maybe or implied... it's like on screen.

Like...

HOW. HOW could they have her leave then? Accident? happenstance?

Now... technically they didn't have her leave yes and it is the fandom that said she did... it was heavily implied tho.

So... yeah. I love the MV, what I am unhappy with now is the decision to have her leave at the end. I get why it was done narratively speaking.

But now it is incoherent thematically/character development wise, and it does cheapen what the MV showed and the depth of their bond/situation there.

I know we don't have to follow canon btw, but... I was having a lot of fun with imagining post s2 situations where she had left and was elsewhere.

I am starting to realize this might be part of my sudden creative block after the MV. And why despite loving it a part of me was... unsettled.

How can they show this MV, timebomb like that, and then her leaving?

I... it doesn't make sense.

(and now I have to scrape all of my post canon universes or do a lot of mental gymnastics 😅 invente new ones too yeah, of course. But tbh when you develop something like I developped those, even if just for me, it sucks to have to scrape them off. It's nothing I know. It's just fiction. Not even original stuff... I know. I just... bothers me a little. That's it.)

of course people feel free to disagree. also I know how psychology work, I'm studying it, how beliefs like those Jinx's has about her curse, etc. that sre so deeply rooted don't just go away like that, how healing isn't linear, etc etc.

but when she does let go, with Vi and Vander/warwick, she doesn't give me "I am a Jinx and she is better without me" AT ALL.

She doesn't appear so mentally troubled, like in a setback, or a crisis, being overcame by her beliefs, etc. She doesn't appear as if she is in the state to be thinking "they're all better without me".

Idk. Her leaving or even her dying if we take this option... does not make any bloody sense. Just a cheap narrative trick and twist...

those are just my thoughts and feelings and rambles.

also : I do not judge the people still playing with her leaving. I do not say you are wrong or anything like that. Do whatever you want, interpret however you want. For me it doesn't work anymore, her leaving, -not without doing lots of thinking to try to make it work - but if it works for you then roll with it, go with it. Have fun.

(I'm posting this in the tag instead of just personal rambles in case someone else in the fandom got similar thoughts/issues woth the ending of arcane/what the MV showed, and it could help them to know they aren't alone.)

edit to add : even before the MV the option where she dies was absolute shit. I do not even consider it a thing. Having the suicidal character die at the end in self sacrifice? NAH.

even her leaving I could justify it but doesn't mean I didn't already think it was a not great narrative trick.

I have been critical of s2 from the start, this MV didn't reveal things to me about that. Just... emphasizes some stuff.

also : yes I have thought of the "she's a wanted criminal" argument, but the show messed this one up pretty bad with caitlyn letting her go. I still think I might use it but it's not the strongest one.

[klunkcat]

Life is short, and I've shortened mine

rise of the tmnt gift fic for the T3 server november exchange, for the very lovely @remedyturtles

Sensei is a character that can actually be so life changing and brain consuming. Very grateful to have the opportunity to play in your sandbox, exploring their headspaces is actually incredible and also devastating.

Note: This is an offshoot from Rem’s “little kid with a big death wish” fic and will not make sense on its own I fear.

title from good bones by Maggie Smith

read on ao3

___

He didn’t ask for this, is the crucial thing. He’d been— not relieved to be dead, because he hadn’t managed to make it yet to where his brothers were, because his kid was still out there fighting for tomorrow. Relieved was too gentle a word, but he’d been something. 

Maybe less tired. 

It was nice to think about, selfishly. He’s been carrying lead weights and anchors at the edges of himself since the moment the world fell, but there’d never been any other volunteers for the job. Somewhere quietly inside himself he’d thought the ending would mean a moment of reprieve. He should have known, though. They’d all been the universe's favorite chew toys for long enough, dying was too nice a bow to wrap around it. 

He really hadn’t asked for this, no matter what the subconscious thoughts he’d hit to death with sticks in the back of his mind said about escaping. Stumbling across the kid— another him, a version of him he’d never gotten to be, that he thinks maybe distantly he shouldn’t have needed to be— he’d hoped he could silently wrap himself in that thick blanket of nothing and fade out at least. Not fuck things up for him worse, but, well. 

Maybe the throughline to being Hamato Leonardo was fate-led curiosity; he’d never learned how to leave well enough alone in either direction. Of course Leo had scouted him out, of course he’d been compelled to try to help the kid float when he should have stayed put, of course. Of course. 

And so, as the classics say, here they were. 

“Can you give me a number, Leo?” Raph’s voice creeps in, all-over earnest and thoughtful in the way he intrinsically is—was. It’s a shard of glass to hear it at all, it’s everything he’s ever wanted. The kid fuzzes out a little and slips sideways a step; oops , Leo thinks. There’s a hard line around not transmitting too loud, he’s still trying to figure it out. 

Could do without whatever that was ever again , the kid thinks, sharp and rattled under the surface.

Leo winces. Sorry, I’m all thumbs over here. Trying to keep quiet. 

Psh, younger Leo rolls his eyes. You’re all one thumb .

The kid turns back to his brother, thrumming still between a one and zero now. He’s scrambling to ground still, to focus. He gives Raph a quick OK sign that there’s no way Raph doesn’t see through. It’s kind of funny to watch his force-fire white-knuckling deflection in technicolor from the outside like this, he’s not sure why he ever thought this worked. 

“That’s okay, that’s fine. Can you give me a number, bud?” The pleading edge hurts to hear. 

They hold up a shaky one, maybe overconfidently. Mikey and Don are in the room somewhere, he can hear them shuffling even with Leo’s eyes closed. The sudden memory of a thousand days where the only rest his littlest brother got was when he was locked in meditation, the way he walked like his bones and joints hurt right up until the end, nearly knocks them both back to a firm zero. 

The kid glares at him, Leo holds his hand up apologetically and imagines zipping his non-existent lips shut. 

They’d been doing better for the last few days. He’d started talking out loud, had been at a solid two a handful of times. He knows the kid’s frustrated and exhausted, he can feel it, especially seeing them slip all the way back. Leo feels a hot well of shame creep up his ethereal throat. 

He knows it’s a push and pull game they’re playing. Wounded leading the wounded, and all. 

It’s still a lot, to think of seeing his family that isn’t his family. Of them knowing he existed and talking to him. Points towards the ‘he should fuck off forever’ category, as soon as they figured out how to get rid of him.

(The kid talked about it like they’d miss him if he left, like there’d be some great love lost— they didn’t know him, though. He’d lived through twenty years of a war they’d never have to see. Leo was not the teen they were missing, the one they were trying to call home, because he’d given that up a long time ago.

Of course he had to leave, this kid had a life of his own to live now. Leo didn’t have anything.)

“ — he was for a moment, just give him time,” Raph’s saying. He forces the kid to take a purposeful long breath in, squeeze his fingers, twitch his toes. Keep him from tipping all the way over into the dark where he’d accidently shoved them. 

“See, he’s back with us,” Raph continues, brightly. The kid groggily radiated all sorts of furious signals like a firecracker popping in several unplanned directions, all different fonts screaming exhaustion and hurt the only way he knew how. Leo’s heart aches for him. Beating himself down for daring to survive at all. 

“Is he?” Don’s voice cuts in haughtily. Leo makes them blink their eyes open, caught out despite the kid’s anger. 

They’re looking for you, bud. Rise and shine.

I don’t care, the kid hisses. Fuck off. 

Okay. Well. Less than ideal. 

“Which one are we dealing with,” Don’s voice hovers closer, half lodged in icy suspicion. He wouldn’t be this closed off for his Leo, obviously. Leo— Sensei smothers a sigh. 

“He’s trying not to  answer the phone right now. So, just me. Sorry.” 

“Is he okay?” Raph asks, concern evident in the dark shadow of his brow. Sensei can’t look at it directly, it’s not for him to feel all the reminiscent grief of a brother that isn’t even his. How he feels about any of this never helps anything. 

“He’s….” He prods the kid and gets an indistinguishable slew of curses and general hypothetical middle fingers back. “He’s taking a break, he’s okay.” 

Don arches a brow back. “I don’t care that we’re forced to take your word for this, just to be clear.” 

“Fair enough. He says, and I quote, bite me, so I think that’s where we’re at.” 

“Ah,” Raph hums. “Well, if you can tell him I’ll be back in ten minutes with tea, I’d love to check in on him then.” 

Sensei nods, relays the message with a garbled hiss as a response. Expected. 

Don stares at him, impassive. Arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Feral cat radiating protective instincts three counties wide, like always.

It’s… an ache under the skin, to be left alone with Don. He hasn’t forgotten the way Dee’s face would shift in a scowl, he never could, but seeing it played out on a younger face scratches something in him regardless. 

“I want to speak with my brother, if it’s all the same,” Don says, blunt. 

“I’ve been trying to ring him, I promise. Bad morning.” 

Don arches a brow with a twitch to his jaw Sensei knows means he’s attempting to fight off a full on annoyed pout and failing. It hits him sideways to see, funny in the chest. A thousand sense memories, a different Donnie and a different place, coalescing all into one. His Don had gotten really good at not emoting at all near the end, he’d almost forgotten.

Hey, the kid grouses. Who’s flying this plane?

Right, thumbs again, Not-his-Don hovers closer when he blinks back to the front. A frown touches the middle of his maskless forehead. 

He makes himself walk through a few quick grounding steps and breathe in as deep as he can before speaking. “Back, sorry. Uh, Sensei, that is. Leo’s listening though.” 

Don’s still frowning, but he leans back a touch. “He’s making it harder for you to stay here too, isn’t he?” 

He doesn’t think the phrasing of that is fair, but. “Was all me that time, if I’m honest. We’re at a one now though, I’m good.” 

“Is he ?” Don tilts his head. 

Sensei considers. The kid’s not sinking back there just… Curled up, pill-bugging. Radiating furious hurt energy like a solar system all on his own. He’s present enough to tell Sensei to fuck off and focus on Don at least. 

“Think so, yeah. He’s just…” He mimes a snapping maw with his good hand.

Don sighs and rolls his eyes, there’s an edge of anxiety there Sensei can still read as bright as anything. Isn’t that a thought. Twenty years without and this younger Donnie is still under his skin like a part of himself. 

He needs you bud, Sensei tries again, nudging his younger self. 

I’m tired of this , the kid growls back, not-voice cracking all the way through in a way that makes Sensei ache for him. 

Sensei sighs, patting his shell. I know.

Don shifts his weight in front of them, frown deepening as he moves to tap on his wrist guard. Probably texting the family about the general Bad Leo Day, he imagines. He knows how this would go with his Don— the way it would itch at him being unable to instantly resolve whatever problems his brother had. He never dealt well with any mystic issues affecting Mike for the same reasons either. 

There’d always been a thrumming line between them, some unspoken thing; Sensei carried it with him even now, even with the end gone dark. He knows Don’s having a hard time reconciling all the ways ‘Sensei’ is his Leo and is someone entirely different. Managing the fear that his Leo will go somewhere far away inside himself and he’ll only be left with someone he doesn’t know. That he’ll be left alone. 

The worst part about being a twin is when you aren’t one anymore, after all. 

Bad thought. Shit. The pull in the back of his mind grows louder. He holds up a shakier zero. Don’s sharp eyes narrow, tapping something harder on his guard before shifting closer. “Leo?” 

Can you stop being horribly sad for five minutes while looking at my brother? It’s so not helping. 

He shakes his head. “Still me,” the words come out soupy. The kid jabs him angrily somewhere in the back of his brain, uncurled with annoyed concern, which is maybe an unintentional win. 

“Is it— can you ground him?” 

He’s trying; his brain fires unhelpful flashes of the days after. Of the months of searching desperately, of the moment he woke up in the middle of the night with sudden certainty that wherever the other half of himself went, he couldn’t get back on his own. Shit. 

Shit , the kid echoes, less angry with the barely concealed concern. Sensei can feel the dark pit creeping at his arms even as he blinks furiously to stay present. 

“Not him, it’s— sorry, all me again. Don’t think I can stick around.” He squeezes his fist, forces himself to breathe deeper, but it catches somewhere around the middle. The kid slides forward with a flurry of aggrieved panic that sparks through him and sends him back down several flights. There goes that plan. 

Sensei cracks an eye back open and catches a familiar flash in Donnie’s eyes, and yeah— sorry, kid. Lights out. 

The last conversation he remembers having with Don had been about Casey. He was getting to the age where he was asking to follow them out on missions more and more, curious about everything Uncle Tello was up to. He wanted to help, desperately. Itching with the need to be useful in a way they all understood. 

It was different with Casey, though. He knew why it was different.

“We let Mike do this stuff when he was his age,” Leo had said with a sigh. “It’s hard to find good reasons to say no that aren’t just three rounds of my own loud clamoring panic. He should go, he’s trained plenty.” 

Don clicked his goggles, focusing on a project in front of him with a hum. “Mike wasn’t dealing with an apocalypse. He was, at worst, trying to find a new place to tag at Casey Jr’s age, so.” 

“Exactly,” Leo smooths his hand across his head. “But also…” 

Don looks at him, eyes gone big with the layers of lenses so he gets hyper close up patented ‘Tello Eye Roll in high definition. “But also, you’re a mother hen, and he’s talented, and he’ll just sneak out anyways if we keep making him hang back.” 

“Points for you,” Leo sighs again. “Want to make that a daily double?” 

“You remember how Micheal was about being babied,” Don sighs. “So, I don’t know. Let him go on a supply run, something small. A practice version,” Don shrugs, turns back to his work. “There’s that lower activity quadrant we got a ping on last week. I can take him and go get that part we need to fix up the generator.” 

Leo lets out a long breath. “Yeah, that— huh. That could work. He’s always saying he wants to learn more about how to keep things running around here, he’ll be over the moon. Kid asked me last week if I could show him how to do stitches.” 

Don snorts. “Great, soon there’ll be two of you.” 

Leo steps forward, leaning his elbow on Don’s chair to peer over at his desk. There’s a mess of wires in front of him, a plate he’s meticulously soldering ends together on. “Eh, there’s already two of me.” 

“Excuse you,” Don nudges him back with a shoulder. “As the funnier twin, I resent that remark.”

He laughs, lets out a breath. The thrum of Don’s room sometimes settles him, like it’s echoing the place in him where his ninpo sat before. Constant hums of his family flitting through open rooms. 

“You don’t think I’m being paranoid, do you?” Leo has to ask. The variables tripped around each other in hyperspeed in his mind at all times, racing down to the ends of his fingers. Casey’s only thirteen, they’re down too many runners, there’s never any right choices and only Leo to make them.

Don pauses for a second. He flips up his goggles before Leo can wrench the question back into himself, not that it had ever worked before. 

“I’ll keep him safe,” Don says, slowly. “It’s a good call, he’s earned it.” 

“You’re just saying that because it was half your idea.” Leo glances away, embarrassed on some fundamental level that Don had even needed to give him the reassurance. He sighs, squeezes Don’s shoulder quickly as a thank you. Don hums with a smirk. 

“Well? Are you going to teach him? Don’t think we have any oranges to practice on.” The implication rings loudly enough, Casey stitching up real wounds is a foray they haven’t dared make.

Leo waves his hand. “Might be a good idea for the kid to have some medical information in between all the supercomputer nerd things.” 

“Avoiding the question is a bold move.”

Leo deflates, winces. “Yeah. Thought it might make him worry less.” If he could help without leaving the base at all, maybe they’d both relax. A quieter thought, under that: maybe Leo would, if he knew Casey could take care of himself without him. 

Don squints. “It might. Here’s a better thought, his Sensei letting someone else take on the riskier missions for once, hm?” 

Ah, well. 

Leo feigns a wide grin anyways, shrugging. “What can I say, the Krang love me.” 

The arched eyebrow he receives is scathing. He is scathed. He waves his good hand Don’s direction with a huff. “Don’t look at me like that, this is about the kid. Table the psychoanalysis for Mike to take over.” 

“You want Michael to get in on this?”

Good point. He sighs again, shuffling over to a side table and crossing his arms. This is an old argument, the circles of it are worn through and practically scripted. If dear Tello insists, he purses his lips. Round and round they go. 

“I’m faster.”

“Other people are fast enough.” 

“Enough isn’t safe.”

“Letting the Krang learn all your moves is?” 

“Come on, I’ve been fine.” 

The scathing meter ramps up as Don’s eyes pointedly flick to Leo’s robotic arm. “They blast you with enough of their power? How long is that going to be true.” 

“I know how they work.” 

“For fucks sake Leo, the rest of us grew up in the apocalypse too.” 

The rest of you aren’t responsible for it, though , he thinks with all forty old years of packed self directed venom. There’s no point to this conversation, he finds the way out Don wants. 

“Fine. I’ll stay back for the next few, okay? You and Case can do the supply run. April’s been saying she wants to get back out, I can send her with Angel.” 

Don’s steely gaze doesn’t shift, his jaw tense. Usually, this is where the conversation stalls and dies out. World like theirs is lacking in many things, including fuel to burn with. 

“I’m sick of watching you do this,” he spits out, sharp and barbed. It stops Leo up short. 

He nearly says ‘do what’, but he knows his twin. They haven’t gone into any of this since— well, since Raph. Since the mantle of the Resistance became something heavier and lodged in him with anchor weights. Since everyone started looking at him like his plans were god. Since his fuck up ruined everything.

No time for heart to hearts, really.

“Come on, Dee,” he swallows roughly, carefully. “I’m careful. This isn’t about that.” 

“Isn’t it? Isn’t everything you do about that?” 

Leo works his jaw. “It isn’t.”

“When will you stop acting like you have to make up for it, then?” 

Ouch. Leo redirects. “We’re going to win this. It’ll work out, you know it will. I’m not going anywhere without you.” 

Winning the war hasn’t been a tangible thought in his mind in years either; he’s not sure he knows how to do anything but follow the script anymore, though. He hopes he’s putting up a strong enough act.

Don’s hand clenches around his soldering gun, relaxes. “There’s only one you,” he practically growls out, and Leo’s chest squeezes. “If he goes somewhere he takes me with him. Do you get that?” 

He swallows again. “Course I do. I’m not— this isn’t about me, Don. Strategically, until they start catching up to me we have to make them believe I’m their only concern. Promise, that’s all this is.” 

You swear? He almost hears a younger Donnie ask, crouched up in their hideout over Donnie’s gameboy. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, with as much sincerity as he carries with him. He wouldn’t, there’s nowhere else in the world for him to go when everything that matters is right here. 

“You aren’t allowed to pull anything. I’d know if you were,” Don glares. “We need you.” He says it funny, emphasis on both the need and the you all at once, like one of those endless staircase paintings that look different the longer you try to make sense of it. Leo holds up his hands helplessly. 

His twin’s stare pins Leo through for a long moment. He takes the whole half a second of pause to step closer. “Hey, that whole thing— back at you. Obviously.” 

Don lets out a long breath, expression flat and assessing. For a moment, Leo thinks he might say more, but he turns his chair around to continue soldering. 

“Obviously.” 

They’d let the conversation fall lighter, moving to charitable waters. And Leo had let Don take Case out for an easy supply run. 

The last thing his twin ever said to him was lost somewhere behind the distress beacon and the noise of the Krang leveling an entire building on him. He thinks there was a sorry in there, or a be right back to the scared kid he was giving up the world for. 

The part that’s always stung, a burr against his core, is that they never find any sign of where Donnie went. There’s his ninpo, and his bo staff with his fucking mask tied around a bleeding wound on Casey’s arm, the hum of electricity somewhere down the corridors of his mind, and Casey safely bundled and shaking in a propped up section of rubble. His kid is so terrified, asks for Uncle Tello in a quiet whine like he knows.  

He doesn’t remember the mad scramble to get there, the fact that he’d reached so far down into his struggling well of ninpo he’d felt something entirely shatter apart in his hands. The way Mikey had put his own hands over Leo’s, and brought the two of them together all at once. He only remembers the wake of whatever devastation cracks through him once it’s clear they were too late. 

The recording he’d left that Leo couldn’t bring himself to listen to for weeks. 

Leo would know if he died. He would. The light never goes out, but Don never comes home. It’s a loss he can’t name all the same. 

It’s impossible to regather whatever off the cuff words he’d said last, before Don left. Had he said be safe? Had he said he’d loved him? They’d never needed to say it before, but the lack still haunts him. He hadn’t gotten to say goodbye.

‘Be right back’ is a shitty thing to lie about, he thinks wryly.

It’s the first promise he’s ever broken. 

The ache never leaves but there’s no time for grief. He steps outside of himself and into whatever he needs to be, and he chases the corridors in his mind to that safe space Donnie’s ninpo has always rested. The door is closed, but it’s still humming. He doesn’t know what that means. 

“God, stop ,” the kid groans at him. Leo– Sensei blinks back into himself, or— to the place between what constitutes as himself these days. The spot by the tree with just the two of them. “It sucks when it’s you somehow even more than when it’s me.” 

The sludge is still there, distantly. Tugging at him in ebbs and flows. Sensei makes himself breathe out, take a look at the kid. Take stock, soldier. Focus on the problem at hand, deal with your shit somewhere else. 

“Or, here’s a thought: you could deal with your shit at all. Call me crazy, but this ‘shoving all my old man pain in a box and burying it deep down’ thing seems like it’s fucking us both over.” The kid whines, leaning his head back. The irony does not escape either of them, he knows. The Uno reverse is unspoken.

Magnanimously, Sensei lets it slide. 

The kid’s problem is more complicated and knotted somewhere inside himself than he likes to acknowledge, at least Sensei’s is all obvious lines of too-long-losing-wars and grief. It’s all outside. The problem has always been that it’s outside.

Sensei settles beside him, hand on his knees and head tilted up to the still sky. They don’t speak for a long moment, instinctively mimicking the long drawn out grounding breaths in sync. He wonders if it’ll ever stop feeling so strange. Seeing himself from the outside like this, entirely encased in different baggage. It’s hard to think about anything other than ‘he’s so small’, loudly. On repeat. It’s not a helpful thought. 

“Sorry,” Sensei breathes as the sludge lessens minutely along his back. “Should be used to that by now.” 

The kid shrugs. “Is there a way to be used to it?” 

He knows he’s asking for them both. The truest answer feels the most bleak, so he opts for something gentler. 

“I think there has to be a way to think around it at least? Make the brain box bigger. Less likely for the shit in it to hit things.” 

There’s a long sigh beside him. “Sounds exhausting.” 

A long pause. “Would it… help? To talk about it?” 

Man, this little blue. Sensei can’t help the smile that tilts across his heart; he’s so tentative and determined all in one. Still stretching a hand out even though he knows whatever Sensei’s going to say might bowl him right over again. 

He shakes his head. “Nah. I tried once, with my Mike. It’s an old scar anyways.” 

The conversation hadn’t gone anywhere helpful, even with Mikey’s ability to see right inside his brain. They’d both been too tired to argue. 

“I don’t think I could do it,” the kid says, sullenly. Tiredly. He rolls his head to the side to make eye contact with Sensei. “Live without any of them.” 

Yeah , he thinks. He doesn’t say that there hadn’t been much living at all. “You know it's the same for them about you, right?” 

The kid scowls, turns away. “Saying things you don’t mean about yourself seems kinda useless, old man.” 

I mean it about you, though , he thinks. Something twitches in the kid's face. “I had twenty years as the last resort,” Sensei offers. “Changes your perspectives on things.” Or your priorities, really. Whether or not they needed him didn’t change that he was responsible for keeping them alive. 

Or that he’d failed. 

It’s obvious math with the kid anyways. He can see the way the kids brother’s hover, checking in and creeping forward and patiently holding his hand, working constantly to make him feel safe. Twenty years and mires of grief isn’t enough to drown out all the big and small ways he can see how his family loves. 

“What was he like,” the kid turns with a sharper look in his eyes. “Your Don.”

He sighs, lets it roll through him. “Tired.”

He closes his eyes. 

“He was really tired.” 

He’d barely slept, all the way up until the end. Too many defense algorithms to scrub through footage of, supposedly— he wonders now if he should have checked in more. If he should have asked. 

“Yeah,” the kid says, quietly like he doesn’t expect Sensei to hear. “You feel tired a lot, too.” 

Oh . He supposes that’s fair. 

Sensei swallows and imagines the fractured pieces of his heart settling back into their ruins. “It’s funny, he made all the systems in our base use his voice. Had to hear him anytime someone tried to use the microwave. Technically his last words to me were ‘front door compromised’.”

“Yeah. Funny. You ever thought about therapy?”

He doesn’t want to talk about this, it never helps. The rioting part of his core that is four parts missing and agony and one part instinctive need to move forward writhes anytime he lets himself remember any of it at all. As if he does anything other than remember it. 

“Kid—” He exhales. 

The kid turns to face him, frowning with that divot above his brow and his dead set determined set to his beak that screams stubbornness in neon colors. “Listen. I know how— I do the same thing, with my Ang, right? You know, where he doesn’t need all of my… me-ness on top of everything. So tell me the real version, get it out of that slow cooker of a brain so you can stop freaking out every time Don breathes our direction.”

He’s having a weird brain schism, he realizes. The divides between where this kid went and where he himself had walked are so different, sometimes past him feels like a different turtle entirely. A younger one, boiling entirely over with how little he sees himself at all. 

I see you , he thinks, tragically. Pointlessly.  

Sensei breathes out. “There’s not much—” his voice breaks, he clenches his hand around the inexorable pull of that dark space at his edges. The kid sees all of it anyways, doesn’t he? Dancing around it only makes it more his problem, less Sensei’s alone. His throat burns with some memory of tears, it feels silly but the words crawl out of him anyways. “I just. I never got to say goodbye. We never found out if he—” 

But he had to have. It’s so much worse to imagine he had been alive and trapped, that Leo had left him there in that awful world. He had to have been dead because his twin would have broken apart the planet itself to get back to them if he could have. 

His shoulders round forward and he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “I just, I should have gotten to say goodbye.” 

The kid is silent. A long moment passes. 

Sensei feels a small hand carefully land on his knee. “Sorry.” 

He puts his larger one over the kids, squeezes it. “Nothing for you to be sorry for, kid.” Nothing in this whole wide world. “Whatever my Don was doing, I have to believe he’s with everyone else now.” It makes it manageable, at least. Widens the box in his brain so he can think around it. 

The kid hums thoughtfully. “Can we… I mean, dad talks to our ancestors and things, in the mystic plane, right? He could maybe—” 

Panic wrings through him, ice cold and visceral. Sensei feels the shudder crack through both of them and their tree side hang out waver into darkness. “--right, okay.” The kid gasps. “Bad plan, got it. Noted.” 

“Sorry,” Sensei manages. “I just…” He doesn’t want to know what they think of him. What any of them would say about the world he broke. He knows them, he knows, but he’d been tired for so long before that, and he doesn’t want to know that Don went slowly or painfully. That he’d been waiting for Leo to find him.

Maybe he deserves to know how much he let him down. 

The kid's hand twists, squeezing his back as hard as he can. “Forget it, shit. Grounding, let’s um. Let’s do that and not whatever this is. I hate this, fuck. ” 

They walk through a few start and stop steps, the kids hand tight in his the whole time as they both dig their heels in to stay. It hurts, and Sensei wants to give in. The hand in his keeps him pushing through, cracks through him enough to speak. 

“He, uh,” he clears his non-corporeal throat. “He kept a section of his database specifically for chess games for me. To run on my wrist guard when I couldn’t sleep.” Which was most of the time. Sensei shakes his head. “Kept a file for Mario Party cheat codes, too.” 

The kid stares at the side of his face. Breathing steadier. He can feel it like a brand. “I knew he cheated. Asshole! I knew it.” 

Sensei shrugs, a laugh surprising him as choked off and wobbly as it is. “He rigged up a giant screen once. Told me he was going to come for my crown once and for all, right in front of the entire base. Raph ended up winning.” 

The stare gets more intense. “No.” 

“Swear on my life,” he says. Pauses. “Or, well. My ghost possession afterlife? Don was furious.” 

“Raph never wins at Mario,” he can hear the cogs in the kids' heads freezing in place. Hell has rained ice, pigs have started flying. Raphael, chronically confused at Mario Party mini game rules to a truly fascinating degree, won a video game.

“It’s true,” Sensei laughs. 

“Was it the pity stars?”

“It was the pity stars.” 

“Ah.”

He remembers how hard Mike had laughed at that, just absolute shrieking peels of delight as the rest of his family stared in complete silence. April had needed to drag a completely feral Donnie back to his quarters because Leo ended up crying laughing with him. 

There weren't a lot of those good days after they lost dad. It’s important he holds onto them. It’s important he doesn’t let himself forget even when it’s hard to think about. 

“That’s a relief,” the kid says, leaning back again. “Was starting to think everything about the future was completely and morbidly depressing. Least you had Mario Party.” 

At least they had Mario Party. 

The kid wakes up on his own, Sensei tucked carefully somewhere in the background. There’s a flurry of commotion somewhere out in the hall that sounds a lot like Mikey and Raph, but it’s still and quiet in the med bay. 

Shit, the kid thinks, looking at the clock. It’s definitely been more than a few hours since they fell under. Sensei can see the medical clip on the kid's finger is back in place before he wiggles it off. 

“Number?” Don’s voice cuts in, stern. Flat. Standing with his arms crossed in the corner of the room by his desk. 

They hold up a two after a long moment. “I’m fine,” the kid says. Don’s expression doesn’t change.

“Who am I talking to?” 

The kid groans. “Don’t be like that, Tello. He didn’t mean to. Half of it was me, anyways.” 

Don looks squarely unimpressed, but something eases in the line of his shoulders. Relieved not to be talking with the body snatcher, probably, he gets it. 

“He said he dragged you under, it’s been twelve hours. Am I not supposed to think your parasite is making it worse?” 

He’s not wrong either.

The kid radiates frustration at both of them. “He’s not— Dee. He’s been through a lot. Leave off him, alright? I was pissed off, he got his flip switched. I wasn’t making it easier. I’m doing good, I don’t want to be mad, okay?”

Don’s expression flickers, faltering as it always does around their particular brand of pleading honesty. “Fine, I’m not done talking about this but. Tabled, for now. What do you need.” 

The kid thinks for a minute. Water would be good, Sensei nudges him. 

“Would you talk to him?” The kid says instead, startling both Don and Leo. 

Don recovers first, eyes narrowing. “Why.” 

The kid’s brain is a mess of picture show slides, a strange warped retelling of Sensei’s own memories. It makes him wince, guilt rising thick in his chest. He’s gotta get better at locking that down. 

“Look he— he misses his own Don. It’s not the same thing, but he had a rough night. Just shut up and talk to him.” 

“Oxymoron,” Don and Sensei say in sync. The kid glares. 

Kid, Sensei tries. 

No. Not up for debate. You won’t let me tell Casey? Fine, this is my compromise. I’m tired of playing referee. 

Sensei hates the pang of panic that still lights up in his mind at the thought. The kid lets out a frustrated growl. 

Stop trying to leave! I’m sick of it. What if I— what if I don’t want them to pry you out of here. What then? You gonna sit here in this pissing contest stand off with my Don until we die? 

There’s. A lot to unpack there, and not enough of the kid standing firm enough to do it— the conversations knocked them both back swiftly to a one that’s tenuous at best. Sensei didn’t make it so long as a general without knowing how to pick his battles, anyways. 

If this is what you need from me, okay, he relents. 

The kid’s glare is still hot, assessing. He turns back to himself, to the med room. 

Don’s fussing with his tablet, brows twitching and his hand firmly in Leo’s good one. “‘M here, sorry.” The kid squeezes his twin's hand for them. “Just having a conversation, hard to be both places at once.” 

Don’s jaw shifts. “I will refrain from the comments I desperately want to make.” 

“Noted, file that under an IOU.”

Don rolls his eyes. “Scoff. As if I don’t have a mountain of those already.”  

The affection in the kid is warm and strong as anything. He clears his throat. “What if I… what if I asked him to stay. Sensei. Would you be mad?” 

Sensei shoves his own festering pile of guilt and doubt aside as hard as he can. Don’s expression flattens. “Why would you want to do that.” 

It’s your life, Sensei whispers. 

The kid shakes his head. “Casey needs him.” 

There’s another need underneath it, neither him or the kid acknowledge it directly. 

Don sighs, eyes squinting in the vague pained way of his. “I’m supposed to be okay with someone that is not you, taking you away from us when—” He cuts himself off, breathes out sharply. 

The kid stays silent. 

“Fine. Tabled. Get him out here.” 

Sensei slides forwards, patting the kid on the arm distantly and ignoring his grumble about it. He’s bracing himself— he knows how Dee is, in any version of them. Getting his head chewed off would be the easiest way out. 

“For the record,” Sensei starts, with a faint curve to his mouth. “I agree with you.” 

The kid glares. 

Don arches a brow, crossing his arms. “I don’t…. Like you, being here. I’m not convinced you aren’t impacting him in ways that are halting his progress.” 

Sensei manages a shrug. “You’re probably right. I try really hard to stay out of his way where I can, but. You saw yesterday.” 

Don’s jaw works, terse in every line of his body. Sensei remembers how his Don was before Raph. The way he’d gone along with all of Leo’s plans just inherently trusting that his goal was always to get everyone back out above anything else. The way he’d shifted. Their last conversation had been a lot of sharp lines like this; something adjacent to doubt. It still burns, funnily enough, even from a sixteen year old version of his twin who doesn’t know subtlety at all. 

“If I told you I had figured out how to rip you out of him without injuring Leo at all, would you fight me?” 

Sensei nearly laughs, I’d thank you, he tries not to think. “No,” he says with a stronger lilting smile. “I’d just ask that you do it before Case realizes I’m here. He doesn’t need that.” 

Something in Don’s face shifts. “When Leo says you’ve been through a lot, what does that mean.” 

“Ah,” Sensei huffs. “Maybe not a conversation for right now—” He can feel the daggers of the kid’s ire, nonetheless. Sighs. “Krang won where I’m from, Case probably mentioned.”

“And that means?”

He winces. “A lot of things that are hard to remember, mostly.” 

Don’s gaze is assessing. He types something onto his wrist guard. “Any triggers I should know about?” 

You. Raph. Dad. He breathes out. Shakes his head. 

“Fine. Bring him back, please.” 

The kid’s eye roll is something fierce internally, externally it’s too much effort to muster. “Dee. That was barely anything.” 

Don shrugs. “I talked to him, didn’t I?” 

It’s fine , Sensei reassures him. He means that it wouldn’t help, not with the hole that’s been carved in him for years. 

There’s nothing at all in the world for what he’s missing. He should just be better at it. The missing. 

Something stubborn lights up in the kid, a spark he doesn’t think he’s seen in the younger turtle since they crash landed together. Fuck this. 

“Can I ask you something and have you promise you won’t get mad?” 

Don’s brow twitches. “I’m not promising shit.” 

A pause. “Say it anyways.” 

“If you went somewhere,” the kid starts, and his voice shakes like a nervous glance over his shoulder. Sensei tenses immediately. “If you went somewhere, and you didn’t know how to come back. What would you do?” 

Don’t , Sensei thinks, helplessly.

“Wouldn’t happen,” Don says. Not a moment of hesitation. “I wouldn’t let it happen.” 

“What if you didn’t have a choice?” The kid asks. 

He has to imagine his Don didn’t have a choice either, clings to it with everything in him. He didn’t know the kid had seen that, the wilful refusal to believe in any world where the other half of himself would walk away on purpose.

He doesn’t know the expression on Don’s face. He’s seen it before, at the planning table. After missions. He’s never known what it meant. “I’d come back,” Don says, like it’s obvious. 

This younger version of his brother, some spun off worried and sideways Donnie, leans forward and pokes the kid as carefully as he can in the center of his chest. 

“If I still exist, in any universe, I’d be coming back.” 

Sensei swallows. He remembers this; that simple constant of trust, of knowing half himself sat between his ribs and the other behind a desk with a computer screen. He remembers believing it, too.

There’s a hallway in his mind that he goes to, where his ninpo once lived and breathed. A living room where he kept all the lights on. There’d been a time where all the rooms and all the doors had been flung wide open. They’ve been shut for years now. 

“If you didn’t?” The kid asks, voice small. 

Sensei walks through the empty room, hand trailing against the wall of his mind. He hasn’t visited this door, hasn’t been able to think about it around the hurt in him. He presses his forehead to the wood of it, now. 

“If I’m gone, it would never be forever. You’d just have to wait longer.” 

In his dreams, or at least where he goes when the kid is sleeping, the door is warm. 

He sits himself against it, and pretends it's the same as the door being open. To feel his brother existing here at all. 

Sometimes he thinks he can almost hear someone knocking back. 

[tribehome]

Living Room Rugs That Redefine Comfort & Style

A well-chosen rug has the power to transform a living room—visually anchoring furniture, softening acoustics, and adding a layer of warmth that no other decor element can. Living room rugs today are more than just floor coverings; they’re expressions of taste, lifestyle, and comfort.

With the rise of rugs online, homeowners now have access to thousands of designs, textures, and materials that suit every aesthetic—from minimalistic modern lofts to cozy bohemian sanctuaries. But with so much variety, how do you find the right rug that balances form and function?

Why Living Room Rugs Matter More Than Ever

The living room is often the heartbeat of the home—where people gather, relax, and recharge. Choosing a rug isn’t just about matching colors. It’s about:

Enhancing spatial harmony

Creating visual zones, especially in open-plan layouts

Providing tactile comfort underfoot

Reducing noise and protecting flooring

Well-chosen living room rugs can influence how we feel in a space. Plush weaves offer softness and serenity, while bold patterns inject energy and character.

Exploring Rugs Online: Convenience Meets Creativity

Buying rugs online has revolutionized the way we decorate. With digital showrooms offering high-resolution images, size guides, and even augmented reality previews, it’s never been easier to find the perfect rug.

Many online platforms now curate collections based on lifestyle, room type, or interior themes—helping users filter through a sea of options. Whether you're looking for sustainable jute, traditional Persian, or trendy geometric styles, it’s all a few clicks away.

Testimonial “I was hesitant to buy a rug without seeing it in person, but the online visualization tools helped me make the right decision. The texture, color, and size were exactly as described.” — Karen S., Homeowner, Chicago

Factors to Consider When Choosing a Living Room Rug

Selecting the right rug involves more than aesthetics. Here are a few essentials to keep in mind:

1. Size & Proportion

Ensure your rug complements the scale of your space. Ideally, it should be large enough to tuck under the front legs of your sofa and chairs.

2. Material Matters

Wool offers durability and warmth, while synthetics like polypropylene are stain-resistant—perfect for homes with kids or pets.

3. Design & Texture

Flatweaves provide a sleek, low-profile look, while shags offer deep comfort. Match your choice with your lifestyle and cleaning routine.

Common Questions About Living Room Rugs

Q: Should a living room rug cover the entire floor? A: Not necessarily. A rug should frame the main seating area. Larger spaces might benefit from layering multiple rugs for effect.

Q: Are natural fiber rugs better than synthetic? A: Both have advantages. Natural fibers are eco-friendly and breathable. Synthetics are typically more resistant to moisture and stains.

Q: How do I maintain my rug’s quality over time? A: Regular vacuuming, rotating the rug every few months, and spot cleaning spills immediately will preserve its life and appearance.

Testimonials from Real Homes

“The rug I found online completely transformed my space. It gave my minimalist living room a warm, inviting feel without overwhelming it.” — Liam T., San Diego

“I’ve bought rugs online for three different rooms now. It’s fast, affordable, and the quality has always exceeded my expectations.” — Divya R., New York

Final Thoughts

In the world of interior design, living room rugs are the quiet heroes—adding texture, defining areas, and elevating comfort in subtle yet powerful ways. With the convenience of shopping for rugs online, curating a living space that reflects your personality and supports your lifestyle has never been more accessible.

As trends evolve, the need for versatile, stylish, and comfortable rugs remains constant. Whether you’re redecorating from scratch or updating a tired space, start from the ground up—because every great room begins with a great rug.

[anystalker707]

Little secrets

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x [gender neutral] Reader Words: ~ 3 800 Summary: Zoro always insists a little too much that they stop by a specific island then disappears until they need to leave again. What's going on? Tags: Sub! zoro, dom! reader, embarrassed zoro, pet names, very fluffy Somewhat inspired by @sinsterdarling 's fanfic Not proofread Probably ooc characters, bc im also very dumb MASTERLIST

          Zoro's eyes narrowed a little as he finally saw the island in the distance and, as much as he could feel certain relief, something also twisted inside his chest because the ship just couldn’t meet the shore soon enough. His grip around his swords was almost too tight, hurting his palm a little until he was forced to let go and find something to do until they reached the island, but it still felt like an eternity until it was finally time to toss the anchor down in the water.

It felt good to finally be on land for once in a while, to have firm ground under your feet. A quiet sigh of relief escaped Zoro's nose as he looked around, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Zoro yawned, watching the others stretch, and check their surroundings. It wasn't much different than the last time they'd been there. The stands near the shore sold fresh seafood, the reason of the incessant shouting of prices and products to attract the high volume of people that walked by. The island wasn't just the Strawhat's usual destination. A few other ships had docked there, being loaded or already leaving to the open sea without the worry of being stopped by the marine. Truly a paradise if it weren't so offhand because of their new routes. Zoro almost had to insist a suspicious amount for them to make a stop there.

The weather was quite nice. It was hot enough to take a bath in the warm sea water, but not too hot that you'd feel like in hell after standing under the sun for longer than five minutes, with a heat that was soothed by the soft breeze. Soft white clouds adorned the blue sky, once in a while blocking the sunlight for a few minutes. It felt perfect. Almost like a home.

"Hey." Zoro attracted their attention. "We are leaving just tomorrow, right?"

"Most likely." Robin hummed and nodded along with Luffy after the two shared a look.

"Right," Zoro exhaled. "I'll meet you tomorrow. Don't bother looking for me or anything, I know my way around."

“Are you sure? You don’t even know left from right.” Sanji clicked his tongue as he shook his head.

“And you don’t even know your own name the moment you see a woman!” Zoto shouted, his hands balling into fists by his sides.

Sanji groaned, eye twitching, and sucked in a breath just to interrupt himself the moment Luffy steps in between the two. “Ohh, look at that! Sanji, do you think you can prepare me something with that?” Everyone followed the direction he pointed at to see a proud man selling octopus that looked better than most of what they saw around.

“Tch.” Sanji sighed. “Of course. Let’s go.”

Zoro turned on his heels to start his own little journey, but stopped when he heard his name being called. Nami stood there with some papers in hands, raising an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure you’ll be fine, Zoro? Where are you even going?”

He rolled his eyes with a soft sigh, though all he bothered doing was to glance back at her. “I will be fine. Let me go, I don’t want to lose any more time.” 

“Ohh, Zoro is full of secrets!” Usopp told Chopper, who giggled along with him. As much as these comments had Zoro’s muscles twitching for him to hit their heads so they’d shut up already, he didn’t want to waste more of his precious time on the island. He closed his eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath so he could focus again.

Right. He was supposed to walk to the right until he saw a sorta alligator–shaped rock, then turn left and follow up to the woods. There was a red ribbon attached to the tree next to the way he should follow—a red ribbon along with some carvings, which sight already almost had him blushing. Swallowing thickly, he glanced around to make sure no one had followed him. There truly wasn’t anyone, but he still held his breath as making his way further down the trail into the woods.

Everything was fine until the way divided itself in two. Zoro didn’t remember whether he was told to go down the way with the tall tree or to avoid it. He stood there for a long moment, just staring at the tree while trying to remember what he had been told. First, alligator rock, then red ribbon, then... tall tree or not tall tree? Fuck off, why was it so difficult to remember? Well, it must’ve been tall tree, right? Or else he would’ve been told to follow the pebbles’ side.

With a shrug, Zoro took the right side and just kept walking, but... Something felt a little off. The ground was muddy, and he was sure it wasn’t supposed to be like that.

“Fuck...” Zoro clicked his tongue, turning around to follow the way back to that intersection. Maybe it really was about avoiding the tall tree direction. Who knew, huh. Now, he just needed to find that intersection and... No way he had walked that much away from it, so why did it never come?

Okay, it didn't seem good. Zoro stopped and scratched the back of his neck as he observed his surroundings. He couldn't see anything after a certain distance because of how the trees embraced the area, so returning to his starting point seemed a little out of question at the moment. The view was beautiful, either way, with the sun poking in through the leaves of the trees, but it was difficult to appreciate it with all the thoughts rushing through his head. Maybe he could set a direction and just walk because he would certainly reach somewhere at some point. Either way, he continued looking for something familiar on his way, walking a little slower than the last time, paying attention to every single sound and detail.

"Oh, what a good surprise!" The sudden voice had Zoro jumping, turning around abruptly, just for the tension to wear out at the moment he saw a familiar face there, giving place to a nice sensation as he felt his heart flutter. It was as if his body had its own mind, taking Zoro to them in swift steps. "Hi! How are you?"

No response came, instead only a warm hug that had both of them content. The world seemed to fall quieter once Zoro found them. His cheeks felt warm when he pulled away and looked at you, eyes flickering over each inch of your figure to take in the sight he had missed so much. His hands held onto your upper arms maybe a little tighter than needed, but he couldn’t risk letting any second near you go unused.

“How are you doing, pretty boy?” You repeated yourself with a soft smile as you gazed at Zoro—he always loved the way you looked at him, as if he was worth something. “I missed you.”

Zoro hummed almost inaudibly, finally nodding. “Doing well, yes. What about you?” As much as you knew it, he wanted to say that he missed you as well, to tell how much he had insisted for his friends to stop by at the island again, but the words just stopped at his throat and left him with an embarrassment and guilt that barely let Zoro look at you in the eyes.

“Fine, yes, but better now that my pretty boy is here with me.” You had a soft smile on your features. Your hand cupped Zoro's cheek softly so you could press a kiss to his face, which made him press his eyes shut for a moment as his cheeks burned hotter. "Come on, I will prepare you something to eat. You must be tired." Your hand fit just right around Zoro's, warm and protective.

Zoro hummed softly, ignoring the fact he had been walking in a completely different direction the whole time. His eyes fell to your other hand, seeing a large shopping bag. "Do you want help?"

"No, darling, it's fine." You smiled softly. "We're almost there, either way."

The place you lived in wasn't too modest nor too luxurious, with enough space for your whims and very well kept. It was almost a cottage, both for its aesthetic and also the way it was situated in a nice clearing with a lake near it, in the middle of the woods, a good distance away from anyone else. You also cultivated a few plants, so there was a beautiful flower garden by the front and a small vegetable one by the back. It was one of the most beautiful sightings for Zoro.

The house still smelled just like he remembered. Not much had changed either since the last time he'd been there, saving for a few of the furniture that changed place and the new decoration.

Inside that bag, you had food, which you carefully put away while Zoro made himself home. He couldn't help but to spot some ingredients for his favorite dish. It was almost as if you knew he was coming, and he wouldn't be surprised if you really did.

There, surprisingly, was a place where he could feel comfortable without his swords hanging from his waist. Not only did he know that you were strong enough to face any threat that attacked the island, but he was also sure he would be one of your priorities when it came to protection.

Zoro didn't really know what to do with his hands as he sat on the kitchen table, watching you assemble ingredients and stir pans until a few plates were set in front of him. There were pancakes, toasts, fruits, honey, hot chocolate, coffee, milk...

"Thank you." His voice was small and quiet, but still made it to your ears and snatched a soft smile from you that made something bubble up inside his chest. Zoro was quick to start eating, balancing it between eating it all at once because of how hungry he was and savoring each bit because he didn’t have the opportunity of eating your food everyday. Fingers touched the hair on the base of his neck, running through the short green strands in a soothing motion that had him closing his eyes for a moment whilst leaning into the touch. His eyes parted open to meet yours—you had a cup in hand while observing him quite adoringly. It somehow made him feel small, though not small as in when he met with an enemy who was resistant to his swords, but as in a way he could be held in someone’s palm knowing he wouldn’t be crushed.

“Is it good, honey?”

He swallowed. “Yes. Thank you so much.”

The constant rush Zoro’s life was in seemed to take an eventual pause when he was there, that small house in a little island making him feel so loved and protected as if it were a palace filled with gold and protected by a thousand gods; so being with you was something like finally allowing himself to rest and feel the weight on his back and chest without feeling guilty that he was somehow losing time.

A soft crack came from Zoro’s back as he groaned while throwing his intertwined hands above his head to stretch. The couch was way too comfortable, but he couldn’t sleep, not right now. He wanted to enjoy every little second with you, more and more, and just being pressed to you didn’t work. A whine almost escaped his throat with it. Almost. Instead, it was a soft him of appreciation because of how your lips met his.

The kiss was slow, but still very intense; the reason and the reward for escaping every adventure alive and in a whole piece, even if the times Zoro showed up to see you had more and more time between each other. He deepened the kiss at that thought, feeling a shiver run down his spine at how your hand met the side of his neck, letting your thumb run against his jaw soothingly.

“Tell me, honey,” you whispered against his lips before kissing your way down to his jaw. “Tell me where you’ve been and what you’ve done.”

A breath caught in his throat until he could finally get used to the soft touches. “I’ve been to somewhere called Skypiea and— And we met another god,” he told.

          “I don’t know if you have ever noticed this...” Usopp attracted everyone’s attention, or at least had Nami, Robin, Sanji, and Chopper looking at him while Luffy wolfed down all the food they’d ordered from a local restaurant. “...but Zoro disappears every single time we come here. What do you think he is up to?”

Because Nami had insisted they ate some of the local cuisine, they ended up looking for a restaurant where they could take a break from their shopping and goods-hunting and sit down to eat, checking what they’d gotten already and what was still to be found. Sanji didn’t seem exactly pleased with it, but ended up going along with it. 

“He is running away from working! He didn’t even take the list of stuff we need to find!” Nami slammed a fist against the table, having Chopper lean away a little with wide eyes, an opposite to how Robin just chuckled.

“Secret mission!” Chopper spoke up, raising an arm. “Or he just goes off somewhere to sleep!”

“Or maybe he sees someone. Or avoids someone.” Robin smiled. “He wouldn’t insist for us to come here just so he could sleep, don’t you think?”

Chopper gasped. “You’re smart, Robin!” He snatched another chuckle from her.

“Of course she is! Only she could think so reasonably!” Sanji nodded frantically.

“I suggest we confirm it,” Usopp chuckled as he rubbed his palms together. “We should follow him!”

“I’m in!” Chopper raised an arm again, almost jumping on the chair, whilst Sanji shrugged.

Nami stared at Usopp for a moment, lips pressed together as she contemplated whether she agreed with it or not. It wasn’t much of her interest what Zoro was doing since he always came back when it was time to leave, but now that Usopp had brought it up and they started making theories... She would be pleased to kick his ass once she found him sleeping somewhere to avoid the job all of them had to do. Or even annoy him for any embarrassing hobby.

“Okay...” Nami nodded.

They had to find Zoro first, that was the hard part. He didn’t come back to the ship at night, so maybe he would come back the following day to make sure they’d leave or stay for a little longer. They needed to keep their eyes wide open for any moss-head.

Luffy was intrigued, an arm over his chest and a finger under his chin while observing whatever food some random old man prepared in front of him, promising it was the best meal in the world. Maybe Sanji could do it if Luffy memorized all of the steps. There were tomatoes, a random fruit, some seasoning...

"Hey, Luffy."

"Hi, Zoro," he replied, voice distant.

"Are we returning today for real?" Usually, they never returned on the day they decided at first because there was always something missing, but Zoro better confirm if he didn't want Nami complaining the whole time and intereupting his precious naps.

"Hmmm... no," Luffy mumbled, "Usopp mentioned something about finding someone..."

Zoro raised an eyebrow, but settled down for not asking anything, only humming with a nod. Luffy barely paid attention to anything normally, so now it would be impossible—he gasped as the man finally handed him the food and started wolfing it down immediately, so Zoro just didn’t even try and started walking away. He wouldn't get lost his time, hopefully. You had given him a paper with the directions.

Luffy had finished eating when Nami approached him, sighing. "Hey, did you see anything?"

"Uh, yeah. Zoro was just here asking if we will really leave today, but I told him not yet," Luffy explained with his hands on his hips.

"Zoro?!!" Nami gasped as she threw her hands in the air, frantically waving for the rest of the group to come by. "And you didn't even call us?! How long has it been?!"

Luffy shrugged. "A couple of minutes."

"There's still time!"

The group left, ignoring the old man madly shouting at Luffy for not paying a thing, but they were already too far and too worried to care about it. The shouting mess tudned quiet at the moment they caught on Zoro's track, standing all together and following him in small steps to make sure he didn't notice he was being followed. Either way, it didn't seem like he would notice them that easily, no—he would eventually pause and rub the back of his neck, muttering to himself and the piece of paper that he held in hand.

"Why does he have that bag? Where did it even come from?" Nami narrowed her eyes, balancing on her toes with Chopper on her back. The six of them crouched behind a bush in a poor excuse of hiding.

A light brown bag hung from Zoro’s back, one that couldn't be theirs. They'd never bought that thing.

"He has a map in hand, I believe," Usopp hummed, rubbing his chin. "Do you think he is delivering something?"

"Looks like it," Chopper muttered, and looked at the others. Robin just gazed at each of them with a light entertained smile on her lips. Sanji, on the other hand, never let his gaze leave Zoro; Chopper could faintly hear him grumbling under his breath about how Zoro preferred to work for others rather than helping them and not even share the berries he earned.

Robin chuckled a little. “Well, let’s hope he really doesn’t lose himself, don’t you think?”

“He must be already lost!” Sanji clicked his tongue.

The way was a little agonizing. The destination never came and they almost had heart attacks whenever Zoro turned around to remake his way because he’d taken a wrong turn—it was hard to know if he even knew where he was going.

Now, Zoro had been stopped for over five minutes already and had no sign of going anywhere so soon. Nami broke the silence with a groan, “we should just confront him already! Z—”

“Zoro!” A voice called, having the six of them jumping and shutting up while they looked around for its source in the direction Zoro turned to. “Over here, honey! I knew you’d get lost!”

“Sorry!” Zoro clicked his tongue, folding the map to shove it in his pocket as he finally started walking again. “I did get everything, though! Check if it’s exactly what you wanted, or else I’ll go back!”

“I knew it!” Sanji shook his head, exhaling.

Once Zoro was a good distance away, they decided to follow him, stopping by the last bushes and trees around the clearing. Their chins fell simultaneously at the sight of the cottage—vines with light purple flowers crawled up the creamy walls, but the ones on the garden could almost be found in all colors, and Luffy already licked his lips at the sight of watermelons growing strong around the side of the cottage.

“Wait... who is that?” Usopp narrowed his eyes as he lowered his binocles, taking a closer look at you. He pressed his lips together, trying to figure out whether you were someone familiar or not.

All of them gasped in unison, however, at the sight of Zoro throwing his arms around your neck while you held onto his hips, pressing a kiss to his cheek before your lips met in a soft kiss. “Thank you,” you said softly. “Do you wish to prepare a cake with me? I would appreciate your help, it seems like we are going to need more food today.”

Zoro furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at you, pulling away a little. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it seems like your friends have found their way after you.” You smiled, tilting your head so you could look past Zoro at the group poorly hidden there. Zoro’s eyes widened at the same moment he whipped his head around, cheeks burning crimson at the sight of his six followers, who sweatdropped, mumbling incoherent excuses.

“What the fuck are you doing here, you idiots?!” He shouted, making you laugh.

“Aw, c’mon, it’s not bad to have visits once in a while!” You pressed a soothing kiss to Zoro’s cheek. “C’mon! Don’t be ashamed, come in!” Waving, you invited them to approach so you could make it into your place.

Weird was an understatement. Who could even imagine they would see Zoro stand there in an apron with you standing behind him, guiding his hands through kneading the dough. Whatever was going on among the others, was just white noise in the back of his mind since time with you was more worth it than whatever the six idiots would tease him for, he could deal with that later.

Everything was already in the oven when you served them more of the tea and biscuits to distract their hunger while the food was still being prepared. “Make yourself home,” you reminded them while serving Robin.

“Your tea tastes very good, (y/n), thank you for it!” Robin smiled before she took another sip of it.

“Why, thank you!”

“But who are you?” Chopper still seemed a little scared, feeling extra small as he sat between Sanji and Usopp for safety reasons. “Wh—Why haven’t we seen you before?”

You shrugged a little, humming. “I’m not sure, but I remember meeting my pretty boy when he got lost around here.” Your fingers ran through the short green strands, worsening the almost permanent blush Zoro already had.

“Pretty boy, hm?” Sanji smirked.

“You’re just jealous you have no one, you perverted cook!” Zoro shouted, standing up and leaning across the table in Sanji’s direction.

“Jealous? With Nami and Robin?” Sanji shouted with a scoff, mirroring Zoro’s position.

Nami rolled her eyes, not even trying to say anything because she wasn’t the one embarrassing herself in someone else’s house, either way.

“Well, it is nice to meet all of you!” You smiled, pouring more tea into the cup that Luffy extended to you. “I have heard a lot.”

“I hope he actually said something good!” Nami gave Zoro a side eye, though it was more of a glare that had him growling.

“Of course!” You chuckled with a nod.

“Hey, Zoro,” Luffy spoke up, “what’s that on your neck? Did a mosquito bite you or something?”

Zoro seemed confused until his eyes widened and converted his neck immediately, blushing profusely. “You idiot!!!”

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[lotus-flowerz]

hello hello I love your writings so far sobs I couldn't help but do an ask myself aa (it's my first ask ever help hwkajd) could I request perhaps gn reader that flinched away from the boys by reflex? (preferably with Diluc, Kaeya and Kazuha but you can add or remove someone if you want to!) like they were hanging out and reader was lost in thoughts and suddenly when they see in the corner of their eyes how the boys raise their arm for smth reader quickly raises their arms above their own head to protect it- how would they react and how would they comfort the reader? I hope it's not too much or if you're uncomfortable with it you can ignore it if you want to whaaaa

AHHH TY IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY WRITING! i actually do this too, some of my old friends would make fun of me for it, so i hope that my writing here is accurate >.<

i also added beidou in here, hope you don't mind, i just had to since she's my favorite character <3

TW!! FLINCHING, ANXIETY, PAST TRAUMA, MENTION OF DEATH AND INJURIES

SLIGHT INAZUMA ARCHON QUEST SPOILERS

KAEYA BACKSTORY SPOILERS

The cherry blossoms fell silently from the trees under which you and Kazuha were sitting. Those had remained unchanged since you and Kazuha were children. The beauty of the pink blossoms falling towards the green earth without a care.

It had remained the same through the vision hunt decree, through the war, through watching Tomo get killed by the shogun, through both of you getting injured during said fight. Kazuha's hand was burnt from Tomo's vision, and your body had a large scar running from your knee to the side of your neck from a stray bolt of lighting from Tomo's divine punishment. If not for Kazuha's determination to not lose another friend and Beidou and her crew caring for you, you would be dead.

These days, although you and Kazuha both carried the same trauma, he seemed to be doing leaps and bounds better than you were. Your eyes flitted to Kazuha, who was writing poetry. The only sound that could be heard was his pen gliding across the paper, filling it with his eloquent words that always seemed to flow so smoothly.

You were deep in thought, when out of the corner of your eye you spotted something coming towards your face. Instinctively, your hands flew out to shield yourself, leaving a very confused Kazuha, who was only scratching his head, looking at you with concern in his eyes.

"Dove.. did you think I was going to hurt you?"

You slowly lowered your arms, guilt washing over you.

"No! It's just- sometimes, when movements are too sudden.. I.. you know, I try to protect myself because uh.."

His eyes drifted to your scar, then looked up at your face, only to find it tilted to the ground. He put a finger under your chin, bringing your eyes up to meet his, then kissing your forehead.

One hand snaked around your waist while the other traced lightly over your scar, sending shivers down your spine. You wrapped your arms around him as well, putting a little of your weight onto him.

He kissed your lips, squeezing you tight against him.

"I'll never let anyone hurt you again. I promise."

"Kazuha, it's not-"

"I know it's not my fault. And I know I couldn't have prevented it. But I promise you, you're safe now."

He brought his hand up to cradle the back of your head as you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

"Thank you." you said, squeezing him a little tighter.

"No need to thank me. I love you, Y/n."

"I love you too, Kazuha."

You had been a part of Beidou's crew for just over a year now, after meeting her in the wharf of Liyue harbor after finally finding the courage to leave your abusive and toxic partner. You didn't have a place to stay and you were clearly distraught, so when she asked if you were okay and you immediately began to cry, she offered you to come on her ship. You trusted her, since she was the well-known captain of the Crux. After you had explained your situation, she offered you to join her crew. You agreed, and began dating her about six months after joining the Crux.

Because you had been aboard the Alcor for a year, you knew the crew was loud and prone to get drunk. You had never liked to drink, preferring to quietly sip a small glass of dandelion wine while sitting next to Beidou while she drank a few beers and talked with her crew.

It was now the one year anniversary of when you had left Liyue Harbor, and conveniently, the Alcor was anchored there for a bit for a supplies run, imports drop off, and exports pickup. While out and about with Beidou, you had seen your ex in the wharf. They were about to come and talk to you, when you had pointed them out to Beidou. Beidou had slipped her arm around your waist, glaring at your ex, who glared back and turned heel to walk away.

Now, you sipped your wine beside Beidou, deep in thought. The loud atmosphere wasn't helping your anxieties, and you couldn't get your ex's glare out of your head. You didn't even realize you were completely zoned out until Beidou raised her arm to sling it around your shoulders, after she noticed you were zoned out.

Your arms flew up to shield yourself, and you spilt wine all over the both of you. The cup clattered to the floor, but luckily no one else noticed what just happened.

Beidou's face dropped and she quickly picked up the cup, setting it back down on the table.

"Men!" she called out. "Y/n and I are turning in early tonight! Make sure you scallywags have this cleaned up by the morning!"

The crew cheered their goodnights, raising their beers to their captain and her first mate. Beidou smiled, slipped an arm around your waist, and led you back to your guys' shared quarters.

"Alright doll, what happened just now?"

She closed the door behind her and sat on the bed next to you, looking at you with a certain softness that made you melt.

"I'm.. I'm sorry, I was just thinking of my ex, and how we saw them earlier, and I couldn't get their glare out of my head.. and I left them exactly a year ago.. I don't know why I flinched away from yo-"

Beidou cut you off by taking both of your hands into hers.

"Y/n, don't say sorry! You know, your ex wouldn't stand a chance against even my weakest crew member. They will never hurt you again."

"I don't doubt that for a second," you said, a small smile growing on your face, "Thank you for taking me in, Beidou."

"No, the pleasure is all mine. I couldn't ask for a better first mate. You're safe now, okay?" she smiled, squeezing your hands.

You looked into her eyes for a moment before throwing your arms around her. She squeezed you back, kissing your head.

"C'mon, let's shower and get this wine off of us." she giggled.

You laughed. "Yeah, let's."

Kaeya had told you his backstory, but you never mentioned yours. You just weren't ready to talk about it. Your parents had never been great, you always walked on eggshells around everyone, and everyone was all too rough with you, emotionally and physically.

You had met Kaeya in the tavern one night, while trying to drink away what you were feeling. Kaeya had noticed how obliterated you were and let Diluc know he was taking you to stay at the Knights Headquarters, and would keep an eye on you. The rest was history, and now you and Kaeya had been dating for a little over a year.

Kaeya had told you his backstory on Monday. That same day later on, you had a run in with your parents at Blanche's, where they had yelled at you for deciding to become a Knight, and proceeded to pick you apart from your very core.

In turn, you had been drinking a little more than usual for the entire week. You seemed more withdrawn and just not fully there. And it all came to a head when you were laying in bed next to Kaeya.

He went to put his arm over you, a loving gesture, but your arms came up on instinct to shield yourself. He sighed loudly.

"You're scared of me."

"Oh Archons- I didn't mean to- no, I swear it isn't-"

"You've been acting all angry and cold ever since I told you about my roots. I thought you would be the one who didn't leave me after I told them."

"No, Kaeya- please, just let me explain!"

"I'm listening."

You began to hesitantly tell him about your parents. His face grew angrier and angrier every time you told him another thing your parents had done to you.

"I'll kill them. I had no idea that that happened though. I'm sorry for assuming."

"It's alright, Kaeya. I didn't even consider that you might think I was acting weird because of where your confession."

"I swear they'll never get near you again, alright? You're safe now. It's alright."

He pulled you into him, wrapping you up in his strong arms and putting his legs over yours, making you feel protected and safe.

"No one will hurt you, not on my watch. I love you, Y/n."

"I love you too, Kaeya. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"No need for apologies, you were gonna tell me when you were ready. Now let's get some sleep, that dandelion wine I downed earlier is starting to get to me."

You giggled, burying your head further into his chest.

"Alright. Goodnight, Kaeya."

"Night, prince/ess."

You and Diluc had been dating for a few months now, you had met when he had needed to hire a new bartender, and you volunteered your mixing skills to the Angel's Share. You had caught his eye immediately, and he had asked you out on a date soon after you began your work there.

Your ex wasn't a kind person, to say the least, so you had been hesitant to say yes. You assured Diluc that this was just because your ex was unkind to you, but you had never mentioned physical harm. You hadn't wanted to worry him.

You were sitting on the couch with Diluc, his arm slung over your shoulders while you stared into the crackling flames of the fire burning before you. Diluc wasn't paying attention, as he was reading a book in his free hand.

He raised his arm up, attempting to adjust to a more comfortable position, but you misread this. Your arms were shielding your face in an instant, and Diluc was looking at you with a shocked and concerned face that quickly morphed to anger.

"I'm going to kill him." he growled/

You lowered your arms and looked down, avoiding looking him in the eye.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that."

"Did he hit you??"

"I, um, didn't want to worry you."

"Barbatos.. and this domestic abuser is just, what, roaming around Mondstat? No punishment for the pain he put you through?"

"I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want him to come and hurt me. I also didn't want to cause any trouble."

Diluc rubbed a hand over his face, before wrapping you in a hug.

"You're safe here, alright? I will never lay a hand on you to hurt you. I won't let anyone else hurt you either, okay?"

"Thank you.." your eyes welled up with tears, "I thought you would be upset that I didn't tell you."

"No, never. It's a hard thing to talk about. If you'd like, I have connections. We can have him arrested."

"I don't want to cause trouble.."

"You won't. He won't be able to hurt anyone else this way. But we can discuss this later. Would you care for a cup of tea?"

"That'd be nice. Thanks, Diluc."

"You're welcome, angel. Tell me if anyone hurts you again, alright? I'll protect you."

"Will do. I love you."

"I love you too."

[gofancyninjaworld]

I've read your post abt what makes one a monster in opm, and I'm a lil shaken bc in a lot of ways, Saitama is eerily similar. Indeed, a lot of strong people abandoned their humanity and monsterized in pusuit of greater power — Haragiri, Gouketsu, Bakuzan, and so on.

I think the reason why he isn't considered a monster despite all that is because he really clung unto his humanity while in the pursuit of strength. Still does. Really, every mundane thing Saitama does isn't really necessary for him to do — like he doesn't need to eat, sleep, seek entertainment, or even breathe. This guy can't even get poisoned. He's so powerful and busted he's not human at this point. But I think he does them bc it makes him feel human and keeps him sane.

It really makes me think — what makes a human, human in opm? Seeing Saitama as an example, is choosing to be human and subjecting oneself to human aspects is what makes one human?

Monsters are really interesting in OPM, aren't they? This ask we're not talking about the natural monsters, which, cruel as they can be to human beings, literally saved the Earth from human depredations... talk about a complex ecological relationship!

Anyway, onto ex-human monsters. In OPM, it's the case that just because your egg and sperm donors were members of Homo sapiens, you can't take your humanity for granted. To a certain extent, your humanity has to be earned. The scary thing is that humans turning into monsters turns out to be a recent thing. *What* has changed, I wonder.

Also, it's not as simple as being good. The horrible criminals in the Stink Slammer never turned into monsters (at least not until some of them grabbed monster cells from Nyan in the hopes of finally being able to make Puri Puri see how much he'd made them suffer) despite being really nasty pieces of work. And of course, the straight-living Amai Mask started turning into a monster despite his best efforts to resist it.

There are risk factors that Dr. Genus outlines, such as a strong desire to transform into something else, a deep dissatisfaction with themselves, inferiority complexes, obsessive habits, and similar issues. Those are true enough, but we know characters with several of those problems who haven't gone monster. I think that Bug God puts a claw tip on the most fundamental requirement to turn monster: separating oneself from humanity. When you stop being able to see your fellow person as a human being, that's when you start to transform. You don't need to grow horns or fangs to be a total monster.

The scariest part? It doesn't necessarily take a long time. Everyone has some darkness within them, darkness that if they lean fully into and let consume them will change them in no time. How close Phoenixman got to converting Child Emperor still gives me chills (oi, future animators, don't you dare elide over this!).

Conversely, we've seen that it is impossible to turn a person into a monster against their will. Even monster cells only work if the person knowingly and willingly consumes them with the intention of becoming a monster.

Now I know that a lot of fans like to act snobbish towards Viz translations (no, they're not perfect but people take it too far), but they have a very interesting nuance in chapter 167 on how Saitama sees Genos and Garou Tareo:

Save. That's what Saitama thinks Genos did for him. Saved him. If you go all the way back to chapter 5, you realise that the separation from humanity process had begun for Saitama.

Just as Garou would have turned into a complete monster, fit only for punching out of this world, were it not for Tareo speaking so powerfully to his humanity, Saitama found Genos, that weird young man who'd given up his human body and nurtured his humanity like it was a precious jewel, to be the anchor to humanity he needed.

I think you have a point about the importance of daily rituals grounding one. Still, with Saitama, one can never quite tell... Maybe he can do without every human need, but what will remain won't be human.

Not in the slightest.

It's good this story is great at making us laugh and groan; otherwise, we'd be quivering in horror.

[mylordshesacactus]

Goals Only Matter In Soccer

A recurring theme I hear from people struggling to “figure out” roleplaying is that they feel their characters are flat, uninteresting, or that they’re otherwise bad at character creation because their characters don’t have “goals.” Or, as the flip side of that coin, that they themselves are bad roleplayers because they either can’t remember their characters’ goals, or can’t/don’t enjoy actually roleplaying those goals.

(A short break for shameless self-promotion: If you want some one-on-one assistance with character creation or are struggling to roleplay, I do one-hour consult sessions to give you specific help in tapping into your RPG character. You get tailored guidance with no attempts to tell you what you “should” do, and I get to ethically keep my therapeutic interviewing skills from getting rusty while in grad school limbo. Everyone wins!)

This is getting a bit esoteric. Let’s use some concrete examples.

Some common “goals” might be: A wizard whose goal is to become more powerful or gain a certain form of knowledge, a noble-born character whose goal is to restore their family’s name or wealth, or the evergreen goal of avenging a great wrong like the death of a loved one.

These are all great character goals! There is nothing wrong with having a character with a clear goal they work toward over the course of the game, and making a character with a clear goal is a great way to get started with roleplaying! 

But it is only one method. And it’s not always appropriate.

I’m about to blow your damn mind: Characters don’t need goals. 

The idea that a well-rounded character should always have a “goal” is pervasive, and honestly harmful to good character creation and roleplaying! And it’s even more difficult to overcome because if you look for roleplaying or character-building advice, “give them a goal” is generally one of the first bullet points. This is well-meaning, and it’s not bad advice. But if it leaves you feeling like your character is incomplete because they don’t have A Goal—or worse, feeling obligated to tack on a “goal” and struggle to prioritize it in roleplay—then it’s not helpful.

Characters do not need “goals”.

But all characters need motivations.

As usual, I’m going to use my own characters as an example so you don’t feel like I’m lecturing you. I think I only have one major D&D character who could be stated to have a “goal”--my halfling druid/fighter, who wants to repay her debt to the Circle so that she can make a clean and respectful break and live her own life without guilt. 

But the others? Benny (Benevolence, but only her mom calls her that), my tiefling bard, doesn’t have a “goal” she works toward; in all honesty, her goal was her pre-campaign life. She likes being a travelling musician, she wants to perform and meet people across the continent! Rinda, my dwarven paladin, has five kids at home--her nieces and nephews, who she adopted after her sister’s tragic death in a mine collapse. She’s got no career ambition because she feels that chasing rank or prestige is inappropriate in a paladin, whose priority should be ordinary people and who needs to be accessible and grounded in the reality of the common folk. Her “goal” is to just keep being an honorable, mid-rank paladin and providing for her family.

That’s not remotely helpful in a tabletop RPG! Those are terrible “goals” for a character in a team-based game! If I followed general beginner RP advice and leaned into those goals, I’d end up that dreaded monstrosity, the player who says things like “but why would my character get involved? She would just let the town guard handle it”.

However, these characters’ motivations are a different story.

Benny doesn’t set out with the goal of becoming a hero; it’s not something she consciously works toward or considers a major aspiration. But she is responsible for what she allows, and at her core, Benevolence was well-named. She was raised by loving parents who taught her how to raise working animals and livestock ethically and with compassion, and who taught her the regret that comes of making selfish decisions. Helping others and minimizing suffering isn’t her life goal. She didn’t set out from home with a dream of being better than her parents, of putting good into the world instead of just mitigating the bad...but sometimes people really do just help others because it’s the right thing to do. 

Rinda? Her driving purpose will always be her family. Caring for them is her goal, the thing she intentionally prioritizes, the thing she actively works for. But her motivations are not the same thing. Yes, she wants to stay close to take care of her kids...but her responsibilities as a paladin are important to. She’s a protector who swore an oath, and her children are not more important than children in the next city over who will suffer without her intervention. Her motivation is to make people feel safe, but that’s not really a traditional “goal”. And she’s a stronger character for that!

So: Motivations > Goals. 

Which does NOT mean that your character shouldn’t have a concrete goal! That’s not what I’m saying at all. Rather...if your character has a concrete goal, arising naturally from their backstory, and you struggle to roleplay that goal, it may be because you’re not tapping into why your character has that goal in the first place. Are they seeking power because they’re terrified of a specific enemy? To prove a detractor or an abuser wrong? In order to accomplish a specific task--and in that case, who or what made them believe that task was important? Why is your rogue trying to avenge the death of his sister--and you can’t say “love” or “grief”. Many people have lose loved ones; what made this specific person decide that the only way forward was murder, and that his target(s) were responsible, and that he personally had to dedicate his life to killing them?

(This course of questioning may lead you to realize that you don’t have an answer. If that happens, ask yourself--is this a realization that your CHARACTER might have? That they don’t know why they’re doing this? Follow that thread! If not, it’s possible that you’ve tacked on an artificial “goal” for the sake of having one, and your character would be stronger without that anchor weighing them down.)

Sedge, that druid/fighter from earlier--her goal is to repay a massive debt so that she can be free of the Circle’s influence and live her own life. But her motivation? A mixture of shame and honor. The Circle saved her from a lot of predatory loans from bad people, rescued her, saved her life. She’s embarrassed at ending up so deep in debt and too proud to not repay that kind of kindness, but also feels a genuine gratitude for their kindness toward a total stranger. She wants to do right by them--but hates being a druid--but has always wanted to be the kind of hero who helps others exactly as selflessly as they did. 

It creates a lot of in-depth roleplay possibilities that wouldn’t exist if I’d just left that goal as simple as “acquire X amount of gold to pay off her student loans” and proceeded to play Sedge as simply money-obsessed.

Even if your character does have a clear goal, their motivations can change and come into conflict with it! A heroic character with debts to repay might easily refuse a huge payday if it requires them to do something shady...but they might not. How desperate are they? A wizard whose goal is to unlock the power to cast Wish might see a path to that goal...but pursuing it would mean abandoning a helpless village in the path of an orc army, and if she stays to defend that village, she loses her opportunity.

What wins out, in the end? And what effect will that choice have on her psyche?

Suddenly it really, really matters why she’s so dead-set on learning Wish. Whether it’s out of pride or fear (which might be easier for her to set aside in the face of innocent lives) or out of a deep-rooted belief that something absolutely essential rests on her learning this spell—something a lot harder to turn her back on.

These conflicts can occur with or without a “goal”. But, whether a character has a “goal” or not, these conflicts and intimate, pivotal character moments absolutely cannot exist in a character without motivations.

[archived-kin]

solomon deserves a husband so i'm giving him one (it's you)

note from kin: i don’t know HOW i’ve managed to get this out so soon after my last piece but i do know that it is a miracle (now watch me disappear for like a month lmao)

anyway there’s a severe lack of content for the boys in this fandom and therefore i am here to try to mitigate that!!

(as a heads up, this is sort of an au version of obey me’s story?? there’s no exchange program, and the general human world doesn’t know about the devildom or celestial realm, apart from sorcerers and similar special cases. solomon and simeon both still visit the devildom, though - solomon because he has a sort of job at the r.a.d., and simeon as an ambassador sort of thing for the celestial realm. the r.a.d.’s also less of a school and more of an organisation?? i haven’t really fleshed it out haha)

fandom: obey me!

character(s): male! reader, solomon, mammon (briefly), simeon (briefly)

pairing(s): solomon/reader

warning(s): blasphemy??? solomon disses god really briefly and that’s about it

genre: fluff!!!!!!!!!

As a general rule of thumb, Solomon doesn’t believe in destiny.

He’s lived long enough to know that, no matter what he does, the universe does not care about him, much less have some sort of plan for his future. The course that the world takes isn’t affected by some grand puppet master pulling the strings; one has to force the so-called path of fate in the direction they want it to take if they want something. Solomon knows this better than anyone.

It’s as much a downfall as it is a strength - as much as power as he’s amassed over the countless years, his constant need to challenge the universe’s power has lead him down a path far from humanity. There had been a time when he was like every other human on the Earth, when he was still young, full of hope and determination and promise, believing earnestly in some God high in the sky who would guide him through his life.

He shudders to think what sort of insufferable fool he’d been back then. An almighty God? Don’t make him laugh. The ruler of the Celestial Realm is incompetent at best, and a downright childish brat at worst. He doesn’t know how the angels put up with him - though he supposes his realm-smiting power is part of it. Why the universe chose to place such power on such a being’s shoulders will always be beyond him.

Long as it has been since he had been so naive, Solomon has learnt his lesson, to say the least. He’s seen people come and go, witnessed kings and queens reign and fall, watched on as friends and family live and die. It’s a truth that he’s been forced to learn across the years of his long, long life, a curse that he brought upon himself the moment he gave up the purity of his soul in pursuit of magical arts. 

He supposes he’s always had an insatiable thirst for the unknown - to play all his cards out front, to tempt fate’s hand, to jump into the void and hope to find ground beneath his feet when he lands. It’s that sort of reckless abandon and hunt for knowledge that has led him so far down this path, through so many years, across so many sleepless nights. The world continues to swirl around him, always changing, but Solomon refuses to be swept away. Because, even in the tumultuous movement of the universe, there has always been one constant that keeps him anchored - you.

The night he'd first met you isn’t as clear in his mind as he would have liked. He wants to be able to remember everything - the way the soft blue light of the will-o’-whisps had lit up your eyes in the dark of the night, the way that your hand had felt in his as you greeted him with a handshake, the way that you had said his name for the first time - in sharp detail, but Solomon knows better than to hope to recall something so long ago so perfectly.

He’d still been relatively new to a sorcerer’s life at the time - excited and determined and a little too full of himself. You… well, he doesn’t remember exactly, but he does remember thinking that you must be the most handsome being to exist. The you of today would probably shake your head and dismiss the past you as an obnoxious high hoper, but Solomon has loved you for so many years that he’s never been able to think of you as anything less than perfect.

There are times when he wondered how he managed to stumble upon such luck. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Solomon has has had truly insufferable periods over the years he’s known you, and he’s always considered it a miracle that you still chose to stay. Even through all the restless nights and the exhausting trips, even after all of the clashes and vexation, you have refused to give up on him.

He had asked you once, in the aftermath of an argument spurred by his inability to confide in you and your own frustration with his refusal to communicate. He remembers that night so vividly that it might well have happened just yesterday - the frustrated shouts, the shattering of glass, the warmth of your arms around his shoulders as he finally collapsed on himself. He doesn’t know what your face had looked like as he stuttered the question out in stuttering breaths, head buried in your shoulder in an effort to conceal his tears, but he imagines that it had been soft.

“I’m not going to leave you to yourself,” You had told him matter-of-factly, stroking his hair with such fondness  that it still sometimes brings a tear to his eye when he remembers it on particularly long nights. “And I’m not giving up on you, either - not now, not ever.”

Solomon had been unable to speak, too choked up by his feelings and the sudden, overwhelming love spreading through his entire body to reply. He’d only sunk deeper into your embrace, wishing that the moment could last forever.

I wonder if he still remembers that…?

“...lomon! Anyone home?!”

He jolts up from the table he’s sitting at so abruptly that he nearly knocks his head right into Mammon’s chin. The Avater of Greed, however, reacts quickly, and hops back before Solomon can break his jawbone.

“Jeez, you’re off on a different planet today,” He comments, setting his hands on his hips as Solomon shoots him the sort of look that tells him that he’s not particularly enthused about his presence at the moment. “What’s up with ya?”

Solomon isn’t quite sure how to answer. Sorry, I got distracted thinking about how perfect and lovely my husband is and how I’m the luckiest man in the entire world - nay, the universe - to have him. He nearly physically shudders at the thought of how much teasing he’d receive if he answered like that.

Instead, he chooses a much safer and still technically true option. “Just thinking about going home today.”

Mammon nods in understanding, pulling up a seat next to him and throwing himself down into it without much grace. “I feel ya. S’ been a long day.”

“You’ve barely done anything today,” Solomon quips flatly, not particularly impressed by the demon’s attempt at… empathy? Relatability? Either way, it isn’t working. “I doubt it’s been that hard.”

“Now, now, Solomon, let’s not be rude,” interjects a soft voice from behind them. Simeon is still dressed in his fancy envoy cloak - the one so long and heavy that it trails along behind him like a bridal train, decorated with a number of elaborate golden charms that jingle as he moves.

Solomon attempts to shoot him a slightly annoyed look, but it’s kind of hard to stay irritated by one of the literal embodiments of holiness and light, even if he wakes you up at very unholy hours of the morning to help him figure out how to answer an email. Solomon isn’t ungrateful for the new age of technology descending on humanity, but he’d like it a lot better if it hadn’t somehow reached the angels as well. The amount of times he’s had to tell Simeon that he needs to actually turn his D.D.D. on before he starts calling someone is… embarrassing, to say the least.

“You’re back in the Devildom, I see,” He observes as the angel pulls up a seat and sits beside him. “Did Michael send you down again?”

Simeon nods with a smile. “There were some arrangements that needed to be made with Lord Diavolo. Naturally, I volunteered.”

“Naturally,” Solomon echoes, raising a brow at his friend. “I don’t suppose your biases had anything to do with your decision?”

“Well, they may have had some effect,” Simeon answers with a shameless smile and shrug, beginning to undo the tassels of his heavy cloak and draping it on the back of chair he’s sitting on. He’s still wearing all of his regular clothes underneath it - including the other, much smaller cloak. Solomon wonders how he hasn’t somehow melted in the heat.

“When’re you gonna start heading home, anyway?” Mammon asks, beginning to pick at a loose thread on his jacket sleeve. “It’s gettin’ late.”

Solomon blinks and looks up at the clock. “...ah, you’re right. In that case, I'll get going now.”

Mammon shoots him an odd look as he pushes himself up from the table and reaches for his bag, managing to hoist it onto his shoulder with some effort. He’s never been particularly good at heavy lifting - you’re usually the one helping him carry everything around the house.

“Oi, oi, what’s the rush?” the demon asks as Solomon adjusts the weight of his bag and starts heading for the door. “You on a timer or something?”

“I promised [Name] I’d be home earlier tonight,” is Solomon’s slightly absent-minded reply as he fiddles about in his pocket to find his transportation charm, nearly losing his balance and dropping his bag in the process. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Mammon watches him in clear confusion for a moment as he pats down his pockets, mumbling a quiet curse under his breath as he realises that he’s left his charm at home again. How many times this month does that make it now...? He supposes that he could always perform a teleportation spell, but knowing his luck with those, he’ll probably end up somewhere in Morocco again.

“Oi, Simeon,” Mammon hisses to the angel, who cocks his head slightly to the side and leans over so as to hear him more clearly. “Who’s this ‘[Name]’ Solomon’s talkin’ about?”

“You don’t know?” Simeon blinks at him in blatant perplexion - as if he can’t even fathom the idea that Mammon might not know who Solomon’s talking about. “He’s talking about his husband.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Then—

“Solomon has a HUSBAND!?” Mammon practically shrieks, completely flabbergasted. “I thought he was totally, like, the forever alone type!”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed?” is Simeon’s bewildered response. “Who do you think Solomon is always talking about buying groceries for?”

“I thought he was just buyin’ them for himself!” Mammon fires back, looking far more ruffled and shocked than he probably should be. He whips around to look at Solomon, who’s flicking through the little packet of blank charms he keeps on him at all times in an effort to find the right one to create a temporary transportation charm. He’s had to do it so many times this month that he’s already beginning to run out. “You’re married?!”

“Of course,” Solomon answers vaguely, briefly raising his left hand, allowing Mammon to spot the soft glint of a ring around his fourth finger. “You’re not?”

“Wh— ‘course I’m not!” Mammon exclaims, positively scandalised by the very concept. “Why would I get married, huh?! It’s a waste of time and a waste of money!”

“Think whatever you like,” Solomon dismisses him easily, which only seems to irritate Mammon further.

Finally having found the right blank charm, he plucks it out and begins carefully tracing patterns onto it with a single glowing finger. He’s dimly aware of Mammon furiously whispering to Simeon in the background, with the angel responding in kind, most likely sharing some exaggerated story from back when the three of you had worked together - when Solomon had accepted a job from the Celestial Realm. The details of the whole thing are a little fuzzy to him now, long as it has been, but he’s almost completely sure that Simeon somehow still remembers the whole thing flawlessly.

“How old even is he?!” He hears Mammon hiss.

“I’m not so sure myself,” Simeon replies, placing his chin in a thoughtful hand. “Let’s see… their two millennial anniversary’s coming up in about two years, and I remember Solomon saying that they got married when he was around two hundred or so… which means he’s about twenty-one hundred years old.”

“Holy shit,” Mammon mutters in disbelief, turning glance at the sorcerer as he starts folding down the corners of his charm into the right shape. “Humans aren’t supposed to live that long. How’s his husband still alive, then?”

“That isn’t really a question for me to answer,” Simeon shakes his head slightly. “I suppose you can always ask him yourself if Solomon ever brings him to work with him.”

“I doubt it,” Solomon speaks up for the first time since announcing his departure. “He’s usually busy during the day. Besides, transportation charms make him queasy, and I’m not making him walk all the way down here.”

“Aren’t you a wizard?” Mammon asks, scratching his head. “Just do one of ya fancy teleportation spells. Why d’you need a charm?”

Solomon sighs. He hates to admit it, but he can’t be bothered to make up some other reason to cover up for himself. “I’m afraid that teleportation spells aren’t actually particularly accurate. We could end up somewhere in the Pacific if I’m not careful.”

Mammon looks thunderstruck. “Then what about all those times you’ve teleported us?! Don’t tell me we coulda ended up in, like, the Archaic Pit or something?!”

“Well, it was always a possibility,” Solomon shrugs in reply, finishing the charm with a deft flick of his hand. “You’re a demon, I sure you could have handled yourself.”

“But…!” Mammon crosses his arms and turns away like a grumpy child. “Hmph…”

“Do say hello to [Name] for me, will you?” Simeon requests as Solomon turns to open the door, ignoring the sulking demon sitting beside him. “We haven’t been able to talk for a while.”

“You text him every day, don’t you?” Solomon asks, shooting him an unimpressed look. “I’d say that’s conversation enough.”

“Now, now, there’s no need to be stingy,” Simeon countered with a smile, tilting his head slightly to the side and leaning forward. “Besides, one misses the presence of an actual person after a while of nothing but electronic communication... especially texting is so difficult. Tell him he’s always welcome to come around for some tea - Luke would be happy to see him.”

Solomon shakes his head, but makes a sound of affirmation nevertheless. You had mentioned that you’ve missed seeing Simeon since he’d started the whole negotiator businesss, and he isn’t the sort of person to deny you the company of a friend. “I’ll let him know. Anyway, I should really be going now…”

“Have a safe journey!” Simeon calls after him as he swings the door open and sweeps out. Solomon waves a hand over his shoulder in response, then disappears down the corridor, most likely to a quiet spot in the courtyard to use his charm. He’s been banned from using them indoors ever since he accidentally shattered one of the fancy artifacts in the assembly hall and sent hundreds of shards flying everywhere. Apparently Barbatos is still finding tiny pieces of glass in the crevices of the floor.

“Why didn’t Solomon ever say anythin’?” Mammon asks Simeon after a moment of quietude. “Seems like the sorta thing you’d mention.”

“Solomon’s a private man,” Simeon says with a shrug. “Besides, he and [Name] have made plenty of enemies over the years, and you’d be shocked by how quickly names and locations can spread…”

“Does he mind us knowin’ about it, then?”

“Well, personally, I’ve known for a while,” Simeon answers, “And I’m sure the others will have worked it out by now - Solomon’s always finding ways to mention [Name] in passing. But no, I’m sure he doesn’t mind. He’d say something if he did.”

Mammon nods and goes silent for a little while. Then he asks, “What’s this [Name] like, then? Must be some guy if Solomon liked him enough to put a ring on him and keep him for that long.”

“Well, let’s see…” Simeon drums his fingers thoughtfully against the tabletop. “He has quite the penchant for raising deadly plants, he hasn’t gone more than a full month without exploding something or another for about five centuries, he takes clocks apart in his spare time, he likes his coffee with a touch of vanilla, he collects cursed books, he makes a lovely butterscotch-cinnamon pie, and he works as a curse breaker for hire.”

It takes a moment for Mammon to process all of the information that’s just been dumped on him. “...sounds like the kinda guy Satan would get along with.”

“I thought so as well,” Simeon agrees. “Their house even reminds me of Satan’s room, in a way… [Name] is quite the avid reader.”

“What, you’ve been?”

“Only once,” Simeon’s eyes flutter closed for a moment as he reminisces. “Quite a long time ago now. I wouldn’t know where to find it even if I wanted to go again, though - it’s always moving.”

“Do they move house a lot, then?”

Simeon shakes his head. “Oh, no, no. They’ve lived in the same house for centuries - it’s the house that moves itself.”

Mammon pauses. “...what?”

“The building,” Simeon clarifies. “They’ve got an enchantment on the whole thing that makes it change locations every couple of weeks or so.”

“But… why?”

Simeon shrugs. “[Name] doesn’t like staying in one place for too long.”

“Still, isn’t that a bit much…?” Mammon pulls a face. “They could always just travel, ya know…”

“As Solomon said, transportation talismans make [Name] feel queasy,” Simeon explains. “And he prefers not to use teleportation spells when it comes to him, just in case they end up somewhere dangerous.”

“And he doesn’t care about the rest of us ending up somewhere dangerous?” Mammon huffs and collapses forwards onto the table.

“Well, you can’t really compare the two,” Simeon says patiently as the demon continues to mutter indignantly under his breath. “He’s his husband, and we’re essentially just his friends from work.”

Mammon opens his mouth to make a rebuttal, then thinks about it for a moment and changes his mind. After a moment, he comments, a little less resentfully, “Well, you’d think he’d at least introduce us.”

“He’s been planning to for a while, actually,” Simeon tells him. “Give him some time and he’ll probably bring it up on his own.”

Mammon nods. “He’d better!”

“I’m home.”

You look up from the book you’re reading and hop down from your seat on the roof just in time to see Solomon emerge from the back garden, looking noticeably dishevelled, with leaves decorating his head like some sort of fancy accessory.

“Welcome back!” You greet him happily, setting the book aside and moving forward to start picking the leaves from his hair. Solomon smiles softly at you as you take his bag in one hand and start pulling him to the front door with the other. “You forgot your talisman again, by the way.”

“I noticed,” He laughs, gently removing your hand from his upper arm and wrapping his fingers around it instead. “Why else do you think I ended up in the hedges again?”

“It’s a wonder that you’ve had to make these temporary talismans so many times and you still haven’t gotten one right yet,” You tease in reply, nudging him in the shoulder. “How many points is that on the tally now, then?”

“Ten for the basement, seven for the roof, and eleven for the hedges now,” He answers with a small pout as you laugh. “Honestly, you’d think I would have learnt my lesson...”

“You never do, love.” 

The door creaks as you and your husband enter the house, only to immediately be greeted by a bundle of scales hitting you head-on. You manage to keep your footing and steady yourself on the doorway; Solomon isn’t so lucky, and ends up laying spread-eagled on the floor with about two hundred kilograms of excited adolescent dragon purring on his chest.

“Looks like Triton missed you,” You comment with a bright smile, setting Solomon’s bag down beside the umbrella rack and leaning over to give the dragon a scratch behind his left horn, just the way he likes it. He rumbles happily and jingles the little bell around his neck at you. “Isn’t he getting big?”

“I saw him this morning, [Name],” Solomon wheezes from his position on the floor, somehow managing to reach up and tickle Triton’s chin with one hand despite the dragon’s weight. “He can’t have grown that much in ten hours.”

“You never know!” You tell him, reaching up and wrapping your arms around Triton’s neck. He coos in a delighted fashion and raises his head, setting it heavily on your shoulder. Solomon uses the brief lightening of the weight on him to take in a deep breath as you allow your dragon to nuzzle furiously into your neck. “Dragons are unpredictable, you know.”

“Believe me, I do,” He sighs tiredly as Triton blows out a pleased puff of hot air and knocks the clock off the wall again. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, Triton, I’d quite like to get back up again.”

The dragon blinks and raises his head from your shoulder, glancing down at the sorcerer that he’s crushing under his weight. Then he huffs and turns away again.

“Oh, you—!” Solomon curses as the dragon seems to press even harder into him. Your laughter rings out across the hall, and while he’d normally take a moment to admire the sound, he’s a little preoccupied. “[Name], stop laughing and help me!”

“He’s like a rebellious teenager!” You splutter helplessly in reply, voice still trembling slightly out of mirth. Triton makes a happy noise as you reach up and rub his scaly cheeks, his ears fluttering slightly. “Awww, you’re really growing up, aren’t you, baby? Your poor dads are really going to have their work cut out for them, huh?”

“Hey,” Solomon calls reproachfully from beneath Triton’s enormous chest. “Your husband’s still being crushed down here.”

“Oh, right!” You click your tongue and give Triton a meaningful look. He grumbles but obeys nevertheless, hopping off of Solomon (though not without knocking all the air out of him by using his chest as a launchpad) and scampering off, most likely to go play with the salamanders that have set up shop in the storage room again.

“I’ll never understand how you manage him so well,” Solomon sighs as you bend down to pull him to his feet, rubbing at the sore spot on his chest. “He never listens to me.”

“Aw, he loves you, really,” You reassure him, taking his hand and pressing a comforting kiss to his knuckles. “He just likes roughhousing with you.”

Solomon shakes his head, wanting to complain further about the big lizard that the two of you had adopted six months ago after the last one grew up and flew the nest, but then he sees the smile on your face, and he feels the flicker of irritation in his chest die down almost immediately. It’s at times like this that he’s really reminded of how absolutely worth it all of the nonsense he has to put up with at work is - because, at the end of the day, you are here, with your warm eyes and your lovely smile, with your comforting hands and your warm embrace, and there is no road too long to walk if you are waiting for him at the end of it.

“I know,” He sighs, tugging off his shoes and stepping into his favourite pair of slippers - the ones with the little cat faces printed on them that you’ve charmed to always maintain a perfect temperature for his feet. He glances at your own feet and notes that you’re wearing your matching pair as well.

The two of you have long since set up a routine for this sort of occasion, and you both fall into it with unconscious ease. Solomon changes into something more comfortable while you put the kettle on in the kitchen, and the two of you inevitably spend so long snuggled up together on the largest armchair in the living room, unwilling to leave the warmth of each other’s presence, that the water cools down, and you end up having to put it back on again. Then you sit together at the table, you with a coffee with a dash of vanilla and him with his favourite chrysanthemum tea that you always brew just the way he likes it. Sometimes you’ll sit side by side, shoulders pressed up against each other as you show him the specifics of your latest curse-breaking commission, and sometimes you’ll sit across from each other, holding hands across the tabletop as he tells you about his day.

Today it is the former, but Solomon can’t help but zone a little out of the detailed deep-dive you’re giving him about the intricacies of the spell that’s cursed this teapot to shoot its contents at anyone who attempts to fill it. It isn’t that your explanation is boring - quite the contrary, in fact; Solomon could probably listen to you describing the most mundane or trivial of things on loop for the rest of his life and be perfectly content with it. No, it’s more to do with the fact that this is the first time he’s been home before dark in a long while, and he can’t help but revel in the fact that he can spend time with you like this again. Of course, there’s something wonderful in coming home to be able to collapse into bed beside you and bury his face in the crook of your neck, drifting to sleep as you burrow closer to him even in your sleep, but Solomon can’t run off of that forever - he needs to see you with your eyes open as well, after all. 

“You’re not listening to a word I say, are you?” You ask as you note the far-off look on your husband’s face. You’re not offended in the slightest by the way he starts at the directed question, evidently guilty, but you are a little puzzled. “Is there something wrong?”

Solomon’s mouth falls open slightly, then shuts again. There’s something about the way you’re looking at him so earnestly that makes his heart stutter like nothing else. Honestly, you’d think he’d be used to this after nearly two thousand years, but it seems that he’s still as weak for you as he was on the very first day of your marriage. “...I suppose I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“You always have a lot on your mind,” You counter softly, giving his hand a brief squeeze. “Come on, you can tell me.”

He laughs quietly, bringing your linked hands up to his face and gently holding yours to the side of his face; you, in turn, unfurl your fingers from around his and rub his cheek affectionately. After a moment, a fond smile pulling at his lips, Solomon replies, “I’ve… missed you a lot this week.”

You pause in mild surprise, but it quickly turns to endearment as Solomon presses his body even closer to yours. The hand that you’re using to hold your mug of coffee moves to settle on his shoulder as you pull him closer. “Really now? What a coincidence. I’ve missed you lots as well, love.”

He chuckles a little bashfully, his cheeks flushing. It seems that your ability to fluster him hasn’t declined even a bit over the years. He’s still well and truly besotted.

You can’t help but find it rather amusing that, despite already having spent a good hour and a half or so in the living room, bundled so close together in the blankets that you could feel his breath on your skin, the two of you are still nestling so close together now. You suppose it’s the effects of a week with much less contact than usual.

You lean forward and press a kiss to his jaw before pulling back again, reaching for your coffee and taking a sip. Solomon exhales softly, pulling his own drink towards him and draining the last of the tea in a single mouthful.

“You know,” He says, setting his empty cup down on the table. “One of my coworkers was asking about you earlier.”

“‘Coworkers’,” You snort at his choice of language, earning a reproachful poke in the side as punishment. “Come on, just admit that they’re your friends.”

“Fine,” He sighs. “One of my friends, then - Mammon, the one that Lucifer’s stringing up all the time.”

“The one with white hair?” You recall, thinking back to the group photo that Simeon had sent you a while back. “He’s the Avatar of Greed, right?”

“That’s the one,” Solomon nods. “Apparently he never noticed that I was married.”

“Well, you can’t really blame him,” You say, giving him a playful nudge. “Honestly, the way you keep your mouth shut, you’d think I was some shameful secret or something.”

Solomon looks scandalised by the very idea - it had only been a little joke, but his eyes flash with such affront that it’s almost as if someone has genuinely called you such a thing. “Of course not! I’d never—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I was joking,” You cut him off before he can get more riled up. Solomon calms down quickly once you set a comforting hand on his knee, though he still looks a little indignant. “I know why you don’t like talking about us much, but really, it’s okay. They’re your friends, aren't they?”

He hesitates, then nods, releasing another deep sigh soon afterwards. “I suppose. There isn’t much I can really do about it at this point anyway… according to Simeon, most of them have somehow figured it out already.”

“They’re probably a lot smarter than you give them credit for, Sol,” You hum, reaching up and brushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes for him. “They’re demons, after all. They’ve lived even longer than us.”

“Believe me, they really aren’t.” Solomon shakes his head, a frown pinching at his brow at the very memory of the amount of things that his coworkers have done recently - some of the most notable being Diavolo setting an entire flock of geese free in the courtyard for an ‘experiment’, Levi quite literally throwing himself out of a window just to win a bet against Mammon about who could get down the stairs faster, Asmo causing a stampede in the main hall by dropping and shattering a bottle full of a powerful aphrodisiac potion that became even more powerful once released into the air, and Lucifer accidentally breaking one of Solomon’s favourite cauldrons when he’d transformed into his demon form and inadvertently smacked halfway across the room it with one of his upper wings.

“I’d really love to meet them some day,” You sigh, swirling the contents of your mug around. “They sound like fun.”

“Trust me, the trouble isn’t worth it—” Solomon attempts to reason with you, but he gives up laughably quickly as you pout at him in protest. “Oh, fine. But don’t blame me if you get sick because of the charm again.”

“We don’t have to use the charm,” You shake your head. “Just do a teleportation spell!”

“You know that that’s risky,” Solomon sighs, chucking you under the chin and leaning forward to kiss the tip of your nose. You laugh as he draws back again, a pleased smile rising on his face at your reaction. “We could end up anywhere.”

“You’ve teleported them a bunch of times, though, haven’t you? And you haven’t ended up in Texas or the Sahara Desert any of those times!”

The resemblance to his earlier conversation with Mammon and Simeon is almost uncanny. “That’s different. I was still teleporting them within the Devildom, not across an entire realm barrier… and besides, I can afford the risk with them. You’re a different story.”

You pout again, shoulders dropping in defeat, though it doesn’t escape Solomon’s notice that his sentiment seems to have appeased you at least a little. “...guess we’ll just have to use a transportation talisman, huh…?”

“That’s your only option if you really want to visit, yes.”

You go quiet for a moment or two, nose wrinkling and face scrunching as you think it over. Solomon doesn’t mind the lack of conversation - he entertains himself by studying your features, wondering for perhaps the millionth time how he managed to find someone like you.

Finally, a determined look rising on your face, you nod and proclaim, “Then I’ll do it!”

Solomon cocks his head slightly to the side. He can’t say he’s surprised by your eagerness, but he had expected it to take you longer to make up your mind. He opens his mouth to say something, but tou answer his question before he’s even asked it, a skill that you’d managed to pick up within the first year or so of knowing him.

“I really wanna see what you actually get up to when you work,” You explain, looking a little sheepish. “You’ve had a job there for nearly two years and I’ve never even said a word to the people you work with.”

Solomon laughs. “It isn’t usually a requirement in the workplace. Wear appropriate uniform, bring any equipment you need, introduce your husband to your coworkers within the decade…”

“Still, I’d feel bad if I didn’t at least meet them,” You say. “Besides, I want to see Simeon as well. You said he’s working down in the Devildom for a bit as well, didn’t you?”

“Why are you so eager to see him, huh?” Solomon’s tone is light and teasing, so you know not to take him seriously as he puts on an hurt expression. “I’m offended. Your dear husband’s right here and you’re thinking about some angel.”

“Oh, stop it, you,” You shake your head in slightly exasperated amusement as he runs a finger down his cheek in lieu of a tear. “You know it’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” He pulls an exaggeratedly petulant face and pretends to turn away like an upset child. “Sometimes I feel like you love him more than me.”

“Simeon’s a lovely guy, but you’re still the only guy for me, you doof,” You tell him, tapping fondly at the cheek he’s turned to you with your free hand. Solomon obligingly turns back around to look at you, a grin pulling at his mouth. “Why would I marry you and then stay here for two thousand years if you weren't?”

“I guess I always assumed it was out of pity or something,” He jokes in response, leaning forward and briefly brushing his nose against yours. “And, just so you know, you’re the only guy for me as well.”

“I’d better be,” is your lighthearted reply as he pulls away. After a moment, looking at him expectantly, you begin tentatively, “So…?”

He sighs, but gives you a smile nevertheless. “I’ll ask Diavolo. He probably wouldn’t mind if I brought you without asking first, but Lucifer definitely would.”

“What’ll we do if they hate me?” You ask. “Do demons actually eat humans?”

“They wouldn’t dare,” He replies firmly. “Not if I have anything to say about it. Besides, they won’t hate you. I doubt anyone could.”

You laugh and drop your head to rest on his chest. “You’re too nice to me, love.”

Solomon turns to wrap both his arms around your shoulders, setting his chin on the crown of your head. You smile into his jumper, looping your own arms around his waist and pushing yourself closer to him.

“I’m not just being nice. Honestly, [Name], you’re kind of the most perfect man in the universe.”

[binniesthighs]

❆on a winter’s day | reader x hyunjin |❆

Pairing: self insert, female reader x hwang hyunjin

Genre: the fluffiest smut

Tags: confident!reader, shy!hyunjin, extrovert!reader, introvert!hyunjin, virgin!hyunjin, dancer!reader, dancer!hyunjin minho and jisung side characters, minsung if you turn your head upside down, slow burn, that sweet sweet build up, first time, meet cute, college au, sexual tension, mentions of food, praising, oral (m&f recieving), marking, fingering (f recieving), protected sex, aftercare, hyunjin is the softest boi in this one

Word count: 4.3k

Requested: By a lovely anon! You can read the original ask/post right before this one! 

“and five, six, seven, eight!”

The cool of the hardwood flooring beneath your tired heels squeaked from the movement of twenty dancers throwing their bodies to the left. Each and every one of you were reflected in the mirror in front of you: bodies twisting like the curl of a ribbon and arms outstretched. You winced as your knee hit the ground and you hurled your body into a type of somersault. As soon as you were back on your feet, you bent your spine backwards reaching out as far behind you as you could. For a couple moments, the whole world was turned upside down.

It was then when you saw him. His silver hair was tied up, and his brow glistened with sweat. There was nothing else in his eyes other than pure focus.

It was breathtaking.

one, two, you counted in your head.

Next came the hardest part.    

Everyone leapt in sync, creating a resonating thud once you all landed.

Thank God that you landed it that time. To your right, your friend Minho scoffed slightly, likely teasing you for finally jumping at the same time as everyone else.

three, four

The group crashed down to the floor again, this time you had to use all your strength to roll, then pull yourself up without help from your hands. You had been practicing it for weeks.

You could feel Minho’s eyes boring into you while you attempted.  

You were able to do it, but it wasn’t nearly as fluid as him. How had you never noticed how amazingly his body flowed?

“and five, six!” Your instructor clapped. The music faded as you all sunk down to the floor again, trying to make it appear as if you were dissipating into it. “Very good job everyone!” She beamed and applauded you all who finally let your heaving breaths be heard. “Excellent improvement from you all!”

You couldn’t even stand up from the floor you were so exhausted. The aggressive florescent lights burned your eyes and you considered taking a nap right there.

“You did it!” A foot kicked you. Looming over you were your two friends Minho and Jisung shoving towels onto each other’s faces. “Were you counting like I told you to do?” Minho expectantly leaned in.

“yes,” You answered a little annoyed, not as much at him, but at yourself. You could have done even better.

“We told you that you could do it. It’s just the mental block man.” Jisung offered you a hand up.

Once you were vertical again, a little wave of dizziness hit you.

“Wanna go out to celebrate?”

Your usual friend group circled around you with their bags in hand.

“Finally got it this time, L/n?” They patted you on the back. Besides hip-hop being your specialty in a contemporary class, you still seemed to get along with everyone easily. On the first day of class when you literally announced that you didn’t want to be there, everyone warmed up to you pretty quickly. You didn’t want to lie and pretend that you were all about throwing your body around like that. Of course you thought contemporary was beautiful, just not your thing. Graduation requirements said otherwise.

“Do you need me to carry you outta here?” Jisung joked at your dazed expression. Truthfully, your head was still spinning a little.

“Only very certain people get to carry me Han Jisung, and unfortunately you are not one of them.” You quipped back, and a few of your friends snarked chuckles at him.

He put his hands up in defeat. “I was just offering.”

Across the room, your eyes found him again. He had put his bag a bit of ways away from everyone else’s. He guzzled down his water, bobbing his sharp Adam’s apple. He then tore his hair tie out and ruffled his hair around which was damp at the roots. Everything that he did was so effortless.

“Hey,” you nudged Minho, “You know who he is?”

“Him? That’s Hwang Hyunjin. I dunno much about him, he’s pretty quiet, I haven’t heard much about him within the school either. Amazing dancer though. Have you seen him?”

“Yeah...”

Hyunjin pulled a black pullover past his head.

“You coming with us?” Minho snapped you back.

“No-uh, I think that I’m gonna stay a little while.”

“Suit yourself, I know that it’s gonna be delicious.” He teased and turned to throw his arm around Jisung while the group walked out.

The silvery-haired boy zipped up his bag as if he was near leaving. Your throat became unexplainably tight. Your legs started moving towards him before you could tell them to.

“You popped up behind him. “Hyunjin, right?”

He whipped around startled, with his gorgeous brown eyes widening. “...yes?”

“I wanted to tell you that I saw you dancing today and you’re really good. It looks like its so easy for you. I wish that I could be like that.”

“Oh...thank you.” He gave you a kind smile.

shit, he was so cute.

“Soooo, what’s your secret?” You attempted to keep him there for just a moment longer.

“My secret?” His eyes became puzzled.

“Yeah, like, to how you’ve gotten so good?”

“I just...practice.”

“Huh...”

The door to the practice room clicked one last time and the two of you were alone.

“I noticed that all of your moves flow really nicely to the next, you’re not stiff at all, it’s like your body never stops evolving with the motions.”

“thank you...” Hyunjin hushed shyly and twiddled with his hair.

“Maybe you could teach me? Teach me how to make my technique better? I’m just so robotic sometimes.”

“...sure.” He hesitantly said with a growing tiny grin. “Like right now?”

“Oh! I mean it doesn’t have to be right now right now, just like when you have some time I was thinking.”

“I have a little time right now.” He began taking off his coat which he had just put on.

“Oh really?” You felt your cheeks get a little warm. You certainly weren’t expecting him to say yes so quickly.

“Do-do you have time?” He worriedly asked.

“--Yeah!”

“Okay...let’s get started then.”

✦✧✦✧

The music from Hyunjin’s phone echoed over the speakers and you attempted the twirls again. You were able to execute the timing, but each one felt more inelastic than the last. God, your whole body was aching to stop, but it couldn’t get enough of the feeling of him watching you and observing your every movement.

“What should I change about it this time?” You struggled to take in breaths.

Hyunjin looked you up and down, with that same focus from before. With someone as picturesque as him, he looked a little stern when he examined you, which scared you a little, but excited you at the same time.

“You need to take the strain out of your hips, they’re geting in the way you need to let you whole body fall into it. Focus on your legs. Like this:”

He spun in front of you with his leg pointed out. With the twist of his body his silver hair swept along with him.

“You know what I mean?” He gently asked.

“--yes, I think so.”

“Your hips are your anchor, but don’t let them stop you.” Hyunjin stepped up closer to you, hesitantly going to grab your waist with his hands. It was then when you realized how big and powerful they were. His sudden gesture made your heart beat even faster than it already was.

“Pivot like...this.” He turned you a little to the left.

“Oh.”

He lead your hips into the pivot a couple more times to show you. His hands were so warm.

He quickly removed his hands, embarrassed, like he had been doing something he should not have been. He walked away from you and you took notice of his shoulder blades curving under the thin fabric of his sleeveless shirt.

“Do you wanna stop now? I think I’ve done as much as I can for today.”

He nodded and removed his phone from the sound system.

✦✧✦✧

Outside of the arts building, snow had picked back up again after flurrying the whole night long. Everything around had been covered in a beautiful blanket of white.

“Well, I’m headed off this way.” You head nodded to your bus station a couple blocks down. “Thank you for helping me by the way.”

“For sure! I...liked helping you out.”

“Really?”

Hyunjin immediately made a startled little face upon realizing what he had said and you laughed a little at him.

He pulled his chunky scarf up higher to his chin. “Actually...I um, live down that way too.”

“Do you take the 12 bus too?”

He nodded. Little snowflakes had begun to get caught in his hair like a little halo.

“Well then let’s get going! We don’t wanna miss the last bus!”

✦✧✦✧

It was rush hour, so naturally the two of you had to stand on the bus of packed people. The air inside was chilly and it smelled of old dusty coats that had just recently been taken out for the fist snow. You thought it was a little funny how every five seconds or so someone would sniffle in there.

“I’ve seen you in class too.” Hyunjin finally said something after a while of you two being pushed pretty close next to eachother. “Dancing and other stuff, everyone really seems to like you, you’re really good at making people laugh.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You didn’t quite know how to respond to him. “I don’t really have a problem putting myself out there much, I’ve always really believed in just being me, you know? And not letting others determine who I am around them. That or maybe I just like the sound of my own voice.”

He giggled a little then pulled the string nearby the window.

stop requested.  The robot bus voice said.

“You’re not stalking me or anything are you?” You rose an eyebrow at him, which scared him more that you had expected.

“No..? What do you mean?”

“This is my stop too.”

Your boots crunched into the snow of the side walk and you thanked the bus driver. Hyunjin got off after you with his hands in his pockets. The two of you stood there in the snow for a moment, something weirdly unsaid lingering between the two of you. Something felt unfinished but you couldn’t quite figure out what it was. He genuinely was so sweet, you sneakily wanted to be around him for just a little longer.

Hyunjin stammered, but confidently got out, “Do you want to get something to eat? Right now?”

It was if he had read your mind. You were glad that he had asked, and a little surprised too. He waited attentively for you to answer, still looking a little nervous; even looking like that he was terribly adorable.

“I’d love to.” You smiled back at him causing him to sigh in relief.

“Is there anywhere that you like?” He led the both of you on.

You pondered for a moment, then remembered. You cringed out the words, “Actually...I really shouldn’t be spending money right now; I need to get a lot better at saving...”

You almost slapped yourself in the face after saying such a thing and seeing how crestfallen he had become. It was true, but technically he didn’t need to know that.

“Or! I mean, we could go to my place and I could I dunno, whip something up? I should have something...”

“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to be eating away your food.”

“No really! It’s fine, come on, I’m just down this block.”

✦✧✦✧

It was only seconds before you opened the door to your apartment that you remembered how embarrassingly messy it was. You and your two roommates were the best of friends, but horribly matched when it came to being cleanly. The three of you just chalked it up to you all being “creative minds.” You all went to arts school after all.

“Just...don’t look--sorry, it’s really messy in there, I wasn’t really expecting to bring anyone over.”

“I don’t care.” Hyunjin politely said and watched you unlock the door.

“We just call it creative madness.”

When you walked in even you tried hard to not look at the mess and got straight to work rummaging around your cabinets.

“Does spaghetti with sauce sound good?”

He nodded and neatly arranged his coat, shoes and bag at the door.

He wandered over to the large windows of your living area. “You have a really nice view.”

“Ah thanks,” You clicked on the stove. “Makes the price of the rent worth it,” you lowered your voice “fuckin’ swindlers.”

Your eyes wandered to the island in your kitchen full of all kinds of crap: baking supplies, art supplies, old mail, textbooks, mismatched pairs of gloves.

“It would probably be best if we ate in my room,” You let up. “You can barely sit here.”

Hyunjin nodded and turned to keep watching the snow peacefully. While you cooked, he didn’t say much but you couldn’t keep his eyes off of him, nearly burning yourself on the saucepan. He changed the room by just merely exisiting in it. You truly couldn’t imagine how you had never noticed him before.

✦✧✦✧

“Thank you for cooking for me, that was really good.”

You waved his compliment off with the swipe of your hand. “It’s really nothing, you should see my roommate, she’s a culinary science major. Wait! Let me go get something real quick.”

You smiled at your little surprise and shuffled back to the kitchen, putting the two little raspberry and chocolate cupcakes on plates with equally little forks.

“Ta-da! These are to die for. I wish I could take the credit; these are just one of the benefits of having a roommate that’s constantly experimenting.”

Hyunjin took in a careful bite and his eyes widened into moons.

“I know right!? She’s a genius.”

Silence filled the air between you as you ate more. You couldn’t help but feel so completely and utterly cozy in the moment. The sun had nearly set and you had set your heater up in your room along with some Christmas music to softly play in the background. The only regret that you had was the candle you had lit which was just a little too sweet. You started to wonder after you two had finished, what would happen next? Would he leave? Greedily, a feeling seeped into you like before, you still didn’t want him to leave.

“That was amazing.” He placed his plate down.

“You know what?” Your brash confidence pushing through once more. “Your hair, the silver, it’s just so pretty. I can’t stop looking at it.”

He instantly became flustered. “Oh...thank you, I’ve been thinking about dying it like this for a really long time now and I finally did it. It sounds kinda dumb, but I didn’t wanna do anything that would draw attention to myself.”

“...can I touch it?”

Hyunjin looked a little shocked, but eagerly nodded.

You started by thumbing through some of the longer strands towards his shoulders: it was just as soft as you imagined. You then started from the top running your hand all the way down, admiring the way that it looked like it shimmered a little. You had gotten so caught up in him that you didn’t notice that he had closed his eyes.

“pretty.” You cooed.

“Y/n?” He suddenly asked.

“Hmm?”

“Is it weird to say that I feel like really comfortable around you? Is that weird?”

“No, not at all.” You continued running your hands through the silver strands, somehow you had leaned in a lot closer to him than you had been before.

He looked at you with his doe-like brown eyes. You could have sworn that they were glistening. Your eyes fell a little lower to his lips, they looked wonderfully kissable and plump. From that moment your brain furiously wondered what they tasted like. His eyes fell a little too.

He leaned in first, catching you completely off guard. He kissed you so carefully and gently, his mouth parted just slightly; it was heavenly. You could still taste the chocolate and the raspberry on his lips. He sighed a little into your mouth like he was relaxing himself. In many ways, the way in which he kissed you made you feel like he cared for nothing else in the world, just you. Your cupped his face in your hands, tracing your thumbs against his jawline.

That was it. You were absolutely crazy for him.

You broke for a moment and he turned into a huge, rosy, smiling mess. The two of you giddily giggled at how happy you were over what had just happened. You shuffled your own plate off the bed to silently invite him to lay down which he did obediently. Now he seemed less hesitant, but more excited.

You swung your legs around both sides of him and kissed him more on his smiling lips. At this point, you had convinced yourself that nothing in this world was sweet as him. His hands found their way to your back, where he ran his fingers down, making you shiver delightfully at the touch. His hands finally found your waist which he grabbed onto firmly. He pulled you down into him so your bodies were flush and you could feel all of his warmth. Once you were this close, he started kissing you back more wantonly, gasping a little in between.

“You’re so beautiful Hyunjinnie.” You snuck in between kisses. “I can’t get enough of you.”

He let an airy laugh fall into your lips then brought one of his hands to tangle in you hair. All at once, your hands yearned to explore the soft of his skin everywhere. Outside your window the snow still silently fell and the golden sunset faded into the skyline’s horizon.

You knew how excited you had become, where together your hips grinded together. Your head spun thinking about having someone as beautiful as him give your body attention.

Hyunjin broke, holding your eyes seriously. “I-I want to make you feel good. Can I do that?”

“Of course, I would love that.” You melted.

“--But...I think you’ll have to tell me how...I haven’t done this before, sorry..”

The fact that he had shared this with you made him even more adorable.

“Don’t apologize, I can show you everything.” You whispered into his ear with a prideful grin. “But first, can I first help you?”

He gulped, “Yes.”

“I want to show you that you’re worth the attention, you’re worth all of it.”

You helped him pull off his sweater, and then his sleeveless shirt revealing his toned and pale chest, just waiting for your lips. You didn’t want to move too fast however, or risk scaring him.

“Just relax okay?”

You planted kisses everywhere you could: on his collarbones, his stomach and on his ribs, right over his heart. Even from the simplest of touches from you he seemed to unravel.

“You’re breathtaking.” You said onto his skin.

You couldn’t stop yourself from sucking a little harder than you planned, drawing little purple marks against his milky-white skin. He looked like pure art.

“Can I go down a little further?”

“Mmhmm.” He got out, with eyes closed shut trying to control himself.

You slipped his joggers down, revealing his quivering member, which was enticingly long even hidden by his briefs. He had already stained them a little with pre cum.

“oh my god.” you whispered, enamored. You couldn’t wait a single second further.

He timidly watched as you completely striped him, then tore off our own shirt and pants to make it a little more even.

“Tell me stop if you want me to, okay?”

He pleaded with desperate eyes, “Don’t stop.”

First you teased him just a little by running your tongue flat up and down and around his length, wetting your tongue with one hand and slowly pumping. You moved on to then twist around the head which had grown painfully hard. His breaths wavered and he let out little moans in desperation. You took him in at last, bobbing your head steadily.

“ mmm, that feels so good.” Hyunjin moaned out breathlessly.

You kept on, but not for too much longer, you didn’t want him finishing quite yet. He looked a little dejected when you stopped, but you swooped up to kiss him more. You took up his left hand and kissed him all the way up to his wrist and into his palm. His fingertips brushed over your lips, as gentle as one would with a flower petal.

“You want to touch me now?”

“--Yes.”

You unclipped your bra for him and laid back. For this he didn’t need any instruction. He immediately took your breast in his hand, squeezing and and ghosting his fingertips over your nipples; you reveled under his touch. He lowered to suck lightly on the bud, pulling at it lightly with his lips. His teeth grazed you slightly but you didn’t care, you fucking loved it.

“That feels amazing.” You whispered as you watched him. He was sure to give both of your nipples attention.

“I want you.” You said with hot breath. “I want your tongue.”  

He looked a little bewildered, but determined after what you had said. He slid down your body, giving you kisses the whole way down like you had done to him.

He nibbled a bit on your thighs. “Tell me how you like it.”

By the second his confidence grew more and more and it was addicting.

You started by rubbing yourself a little so he knew where to start. “In circles, you can go fast or slow, I like both, and you can suck on it too if you’d like.

He lowered, and you swung one of you legs over his shoulder which he palmed into. He started painfully slow, kitten licking carefully; he didn’t know it, but he was teasing the hell out of you. Nevertheless, you whole body began to shake a little with each lick.

“Flatten your tongue out...like that, you can go a little faster, yes...just like that.”

He had closed his eyes and settled into a rhythm, and you dug your heels into the bed. It was astonishing how quickly he got the hang of it. You whimpered out while he continued.

“fuck, Hyunjin--”

He sped up a little, your first orgasm was close by.

“Your fingers, like this.” You held up your pointer and middle together to show him. “Fuck me like that.

He did as he was told, sliding them in with ease over how wet you had become. His fingers were long and slender; addictive. He pumped in and out while your pussy made ungodly sounds. You felt so close you were lightheaded.

“Curl your fingers up, like this.” You showed him again. He continued going fast, taking a hint from your quickened breaths.

You came with white heat, clawing at the comforter on the bed. You only gave yourself a few more moments before pulling him up towards you. “I want you inside me.”

You scrambled with the drawer of your nightstand to rip a condom off from the strand that you kept, tearing it open for him. He was a little flustered, but put it on quickly; he was dripping even more for you. Your lips connected as you laid down, and he aligned himself on top of you. It was then when you saw how pink his chest had flushed. You opened your folds for him, and he started to guide himself in. He filled you up perfectly, and he groaned out once the two of you were connected.

“it’s so tight.” He shivered.

Your fingers latched on to the skin of his hips as you guided him lightly up and down. He buried his face into your shoulder as little euphoric moans slipped past his lips. After a moment, he was able to find his pace, grazing you deep inside. You let him take control as he thrust into you, leaving your arms to wrap around his broad back. You pulled his face over to kiss him, the both of you loosing yourself in the other.

“You make me feel, so, so good, baby,” You hushed into his ear.

He panted, “I-I’m gonna cum soon.”

It took all your strength to flip him off of you, and to land in his lap. He groaned with his hands getting lost journeying all around your body--anywhere he could touch. You took over, riding him and rolling your hips fast with both of your palms flat on his chest riddled with hickies. Like this, you thought that he looked practically angelic. Both of you chased your orgasms together, erupting at nearly the same time, and you ravished in him throbbing inside.

You laughed a little together in sheer bliss and he flinched a little when you slid off of him.

“Did that all feel good for you? Are you okay?” You pecked his nose.

“Yes. It felt like nothing else.”

You stood up, adjusting your frazzled hair and putting on a fresh set of comfy clothes. “Stay right there okay?”

You went to grab him a towel and clean himself off with, handing him his clothes one by one as he dressed. You brought the plates back to the kitchen coming back with a large glass of ice cool water, then offered it to him. He guzzled it letting a little drop fall down his neck.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Do you wanna...stay a little longer?”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

You blew the candle out and dimmed the lights, adjusting a blanket for the two of you to crawl under. Hyunijn followed you under, sweeping you deep into his arms.

Just a little bit longer. You thought to yourself. Stay with me.

[goggles-mcgee]

Too Late: Luka & Kagami (commission for miner249er)

Chapter 6 of the commission for @miner249er 

Previous Work

Last Chapter                              Next Chapter

Summary:  Luka and Kagami just being there for one another and trying not to drown in their guilt and grief

It was mostly quiet between the two, Kagami had taken to channel surfing while Luka strummed his guitar aimlessly till he got sad and frustrated that he couldn’t find a melody. Then he would meditate before trying again. Mostly he was trying to get back into the music for his mom and Juleka’s piece of mind, he knew they were worried about him, he knew they noticed the lack of music in his life, but he also knew they knew why. Marinette. Even just thinking her name made his heartstrings tug painfully. How had everything gone so wrong? Him and Kagami had a plan, at the time it seemed like a good plan, but thinking back on it now he couldn’t help but see it for all it’s flaws, and there were...many. He felt like a fool, but he hadn’t brought up their failed plan because he knew Kagami could not handle hearing about their failure. He could hear it in her song, he could see it in her eyes, it was seeped into her very being, and all he could feel was pain and regret. That’s why there was no more music.

The “music” he would make would sound like his heart and his thoughts, and at the present they sounded like someone threw silverware in a blender and he felt like he was in that blender himself. Constantly hurting, constantly trying to get out and heal, but never being able to because he was too caught up in the motions. Once he had gotten the Snake Miraculous, he thought he understood the saying, “Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it.” His power was all about learning from the “past” and that saying had always been something that had stuck with him. He thought him and Kagami were well prepared to handle anything with their plan, but the more he thought of it, the more he screamed at himself that they should have told Ladybug, they should have told Marinette, they should have said something, anything. 

Romeo & Juliet had always been his least favorite Shakespeare play, he hated miscommunication in tragedies. It worked well as a plot device in comedies, but in tragedies it was just frustrating. Luka always believed people could be better than the famous star-crossed characters and everyone else in the play, he truly believed he was above that level of miscommunication. Sure he had trouble explaining himself, more often than not he used his music as his voice, confident it would make sure his feelings were communicated clearly. Then Marinette came and he found himself wanting to talk without his instrument as the voice, each day built his confidence, he had never been that confident in his talking abilities, and then everything crashed and burned. Miscommunication was the fuel. 

He was sure if he hadn’t cried as much as he had already he would be in a fit of sobs at the moment, but as it was, Luka was all cried out. So was Kagami it would seem, whose mother uncharacteristically was actually giving her time to herself, time to grieve, and time with her “friends.” Luka knew the only friends Kagami had were him and Marinette, and there had been that air of almost more that hung above them all, but just thinking of that hurt him more than he could ever put into words or song. It was easier to deal with the heartbreak of the things that came to be and passed rather than the ones that hadn’t even had a chance to see the light, or even have the opportunity to be a proper thought that was discussed. No. No. He wouldn’t think about it. He couldn’t think about it. 

“Luka? You okay?” He heard Kagami’s soft voice ask. He looked to her immediately hoping he wasn’t showing the desperation he was feeling, but at the tight smile he got in return he knew he failed hiding it. “Thinking about her again?”

He made a noise somewhere between yes and no. It was harder to talk when she disappeared, but he didn’t want to leave Kagami to have to interpret all his sounds so he cleared his throat and pushed past the lump that seemed to be stuck there no matter what he did. “Shakespeare.” 

Kagami nodded and took a seat beside him on the couch and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Romeo and Juliet again?”

Luka sighed and nodded as he closed his eyes and leaned his head on top of Kagami’s softly. “I know it’s not technically history, but it’s a part of history and it made me think.” 

“I would say stop thinking since that’s all you’ve been doing today, but I know that is not easy and not actually achievable.” 

“If I could stop thinking that would be great. I just...she would still be here if I had-”

“If we.”

“If we had just communicated we wouldn’t have lost her...I...we…” Luka growled before sitting up and grabbing his guitar and playing an angry harsh cord. He held his guitar to his chest like a lifeline, his grip not loosening, the string biting into his skin and for a moment he wished it stung or imprinted but his callouses protected him. 

“I know. I know. She...Marinette was my first friend. The first friend I had ever made on my own. Not one my mother made me have because it would be good for the company or because it would make me or her business partners look good.” Kagami started to tell Luka, of course he paid attention, Kagami wasn’t really one to open up about how she felt. Even with all the time she had spent with him and Marinette and all the encouragement they both gave her to be more open with them. “I thought...I believed our plan was foolproof. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t stop to think of human error, and everything that could go wrong. Marinette...Marinette and you gave me optimism Luka. I had never looked at the world or any situation I had faced with optimism. It’s not how I was raised. Or any Tsuguri for that matter.” 

Luka didn’t know what to say so he held Kagami’s hand and gave it a squeeze for comfort and a way to say to continue if she felt comfortable. There of course was an anxious little voice inside his head that was screaming that, maybe, just maybe, if Kagami hadn’t spent so much time with them, everything could have been avoided but he quickly shot that thought down. He would never regret becoming friends with Kagami. Never. She was Marinette’s and his compass. She gave them control and direction when the two of them wandered too far. Luka was the calm, he was the ship’s wheel. He followed the compass and made sure to keep them all steady and comfortable, but he was always ready to change the course if they all needed the change of scenery.

 At first, Luka thought of Marinette as the sea. Beautiful, full of life and emotion, taking care of all the creatures and life in its waters, and filled with creativity. Then she changed in his mind to a lighthouse, something that would call him and Kagami home, a safe haven, something to strive for. Again the image in his mind changed to her as their anchor. She kept them both grounded, she made sure Luka didn’t get too lost in his thoughts and she made sure Kagami didn’t second guess herself. She kept them safe. Marinette was all those things and more. 

“But you guys,” Luka tuned back into Kagami and berated himself for getting lost in his thoughts, “you guys gave me optimism. I was no longer just thinking about the bad that could happen in things. When we made our plan, I thought I had been thorough, that we had been thorough. I wanted to believe we were doing the right thing. The intelligent thing. Most importantly, I wanted to believe we were doing the helpful thing. I was optimistic. I was hopeful. And in the end we lost her…”

“Kagami...There is nothing wrong with being optimistic.”

“Did I say there was?” She snapped before her expression fell and she held Luka’s hand in both of hers, her eyes teared up as she looked at him. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you didn’t mean it Gami.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“Maybe not but you have already apologized. That’s what makes it okay.” 

“If you say so...I’m just not entirely convinced, but okay. It’s just, I love that you and Marinette are optimists. I liked seeing things positively for once and not always thinking what could or will go wrong if I didn’t do things perfectly. But the one time I do so, it bit me in return. I...I hesitated Luka. Now Marinette is gone, the media only reminds us of her akuma and only wants to speak of her akuma and not the wonderful person she is. Except maybe Nadja and Aurore’s blog. It’s all that’s on TV, then there’s the whole Agreste situation that I would prefer not to think about but again, the media is focused on it.” After Kagami let all that out it was like she deflated and sunk into the comfort of the couch. Luka decided to join in and just flopped himself back into the couch and just stared up at the ceiling. 

“Oh yeah...that. On one hand I can believe it, on the other I don’t want to but yeah let’s just...not get into that today. Maybe another day,” Luka grimaced at the memory of all the Agreste “rumors” flying around, and honestly he understood why Kagami would prefer not to think about any of that. 

“Or ever. That could be beneficial too.” 

“Gami. You know it’s better to face something than avoid it.”

“Perhaps, but avoidance sounds like the better option considering everything that has happened.” 

“Have you spoken to Adrien at all?” 

“No. Not since I found out he had no spine. And now...now I don’t even know how I would go about speaking to him. I do feel for him, but he’s not someone I consider a friend anymore. If anything he’s an acquaintance by necessity.” She huffed out with a shrug of her shoulder as she once more grabbed the remote for the TV and returned to channel surfing. 

“Yeah, I get what you mean. It’s....talking with Jules has been hard. It was hard before, but now it’s...I don’t know. I know she wants to talk to me, I try to talk to her, but she won’t talk to me. She used to before Lila. Then we fought...we never fought...but she didn’t want to listen to me about Lila and her screeching of a song. Juleka got mad that I couldn’t see the “true” Marinette. She said I was blinded by my...my feelings.” Luka preferred not to remember him and Juleka fighting but it had become normal ever since his sister had started listening to Lila Rossi. After everything that passed though, Juleka wouldn’t even look at him unless it was in worry, like she couldn’t look at him. Not because he wasn’t worth her time, but because she seemed to believe that she wasn’t worth his. 

 In the simplest of terms, it was heartbreaking. 

“Rossi has been exposed now though. She knows you were right.” Kagami said full of confusion, and Luka could admit it sounded confusing no matter how you looked at it.

“I think it’s because I-we- were right.” 

Luka glanced over at Kagami and saw her frowning, “She’s angry that you, that we, were right?”

“I think it’s more shame than anger. I don’t doubt there is anger there, but it’s most likely directed at herself.  Her song is all over the place…” He admitted with a sigh, he just wished that Juleka would open up to him like she used to so he could help. He didn’t know what was going on, but he knew that something was happening at her school and it wasn’t good for her or her classmates. He hated thinking his sister was getting bullied but with Marinette’s rise to fame as an akuma and her almost cult-like following and those who raised her to martyr status all around, he wouldn’t be surprised if the “Akuma Class” was being “taught a lesson.” 

“And yet she still won’t talk to you?” 

“It’s...complicated. We are both not the strongest talkers, but it has always been worse for Jules. Now with everything that has happened…” Luka let out a frustrated breath and ran his hands over his face. Before him or Kagami could say anything else to add on to the conversation they heard rushed footsteps hurrying down the stairs towards them. Immediately, Luka recognized them as Juleka’s footsteps. 

Juleka burst into the lounge from the deck, one look at her and Luka felt his anger rise. His sister’s clothing was ruined, her jeans that she had painstakingly sewn the lace to the outer edges of herself were splattered in paint and if he wasn’t mistaken there were rips on the knees. Her shirt looked wet and paint splattered, as did her hair, and one glance at her only visible eye told Luka she had been crying. She seemed startled to see them there and for a while none of them spoke, the only noise came from the TV where it had seemed to stop on a news channel since Kagami stopped her channel surfing in favor of focusing on Juleka’s entrance.

As soon as Luka stood up to comfort Juleka, maybe ask who the hell did that to her, she just as quickly shouldered past him and ran into her bunker with a slam of the door. That was another new thing, though not unneeded, they both got separate rooms after...after Marinette had helped Luka convince his mom they deserved separate rooms. Especially because of Jules and his ages and the fact a curtain wasn’t enough privacy but then there was the fighting due to the Lila and Marinette situation. It was just easier for them all if he and Juleka got separate rooms, his mom agreed, he knew it was because she noticed the tense silences and the loud music coming from them both during that time. So Kagami and Marinette helped Luka clean out another bunker room that had been used as a storage room and then helped him move in. 

Luka didn’t know how long he stood there just looking at Juleka’s door but he came back to himself when he felt Kagami place her hand on his shoulder. He looked down at her to see her giving him a sympathetic smile and gave his shoulder a squeeze for comfort. It was grounding, but Luka’s heart still hurt at his sister’s refusal to talk to him or Kagami. He knew she needed him, and honestly he needed her too, he just wanted to be her brother again, and her be his little sister that was sometimes annoying but it was in a loving way. Everything had changed and Luka felt like he was on a sinking ship with nothing to grab onto for support except Kagami but he didn’t want to drag her down with him. 

“I just…” He started, his voice tight with tears.

“I know.” Kagami answered. 

“...Collège Françoise Dupont.” Both of their heads whipped towards the TV once they heard the name of that school. On the screen were two reporters that neither were very familiar with but they had seen the news channel in passing. 

“Is that right? An investigation?” The male reporter asked.

“That is correct Robert! It has been confirmed by inside sources that a full scale investigation will be launched on Collège Françoise Dupont! Not only for its horrible negligence against The Protector but because of new reports made by students who no longer fear having to be akumatized since Hawkmoth has conveniently disappeared. Apparently the number of calls to the Board of Education was just appalling. As were the reasons behind the reports.” The female reporter announced with a plastic smile, but if you looked it would twitch every so often like she was fighting to keep smiling.

“I would like to say I’m surprised Madeline, but that would ultimately be a lie.” Robert quipped back with an equally plastic looking smile. 

“Yes it would Robert.” The reporter called Madeline chuckled as she said that. “In other news still connected to The Protector, her parents will be getting an official apology from TVi Studios after said studio used footage of their daughter without permission written or otherwise.”

Luka and Kagami winced at the mention of Tom and Sabine as they knew the couple were having a hard time, but they had no idea that TVi Studios showed that segment without permission. Luka especially had a hard time believing it considering Nadja worked there and was a good friend of Sabine’s. Kagami looked particularly worried about this so Luka nudged her as a way to ask what was wrong. “Do you think they sued the studio? I don’t think M Dupain and Mme Cheng are in the right state emotionally to go through a lawsuit.”

“Well...they said it was an official apology so I don’t think they sued, which is good, because you’re right. They are in no state to go through a lawsuit or anything much at the moment.” Luka agreed.

“On to World News, there has been an amazing recent discovery in Northern Scotland. It has stumped the people, and historians. When we come back from the break we will talk about this historic find and what it means for the people of Scotland. See you after the break Paris!” Robert said before the commercials started up. Luka didn’t know why, but something told him that discovery was important.

Next Chapter

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (part 4): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: escape sounds good. but is it better than staying?

wc: 2.6k

tw: sexual assault and death

a/n: please don’t kill me. This is plot. No smut to be found quite yet. I’m really trying to save up my smut cards for something really big lol

masterlist

 Everything is on fire. Everyone is running around you, because for some reason, you’re walking toward the flames. Screams echo in your ears and the feeling of something tugging you into the burning building that looked like your home is too strong to ignore. When you push the door to your house open, your mother is hovering over your father, who is bleeding out as you watch in horror. When your mother looks up at you, she’s crying fat tears of sorrow, then she whispers:

“You did this, y/n. You let that monster into our town, and now look at what you’ve done.” 

A hand smooths over your face as you twist and turn, but you don’t realize it’s the General until you open your eyes, the light from the moon blocked by his body. “You’re okay. Don’t worry; no one’s going to hurt you here,” he whispers, despite having hurt you before. You push his hand away and sit up, clutching your knees to your chest as you catch your breath. “Nightmare?” he asks, and for a second, you’re wondering if he’s saying that he had a nightmare. But then you feel the sweat around the nape of your neck and on your chest, and remember the feeling of helplessness you just emerged from. You nod, looking around the tent at the table, papers, the ink, the discarded haori near the seat…

“You’re up late,” you mention - trying to change the subject - and the General huffs a laugh, pushing back his hair like he always did before he launched into an explanation. Why didn’t he just tie it up? 

“I do my best work right before the midnight hours. You’d be surprised at the formations I can create with just a hint of alertness left in my body.” He turns back to you, touching your foot with a broad hand. “Do you want to talk about your dream?”

“No,” you answer quickly, hoping he would drop the subject. 

“Then let me have Kaori fetch you some water for a bath. I would hate for you to remain as sweaty as you are.” You slide off the bed, walking around to the little desk area that held stacks of papers and diagrams and sliding one free from the stack. 

“You draw maps?” 

“Cartographers are not cheap, little one. I’ve canvassed a massive effort to make a map of every place I’ve been to… Nanami is very helpful with this, as well. He’s so attentive to details that I might have missed, so I rely on his help more often than not.” 

“And Haibara?” 

“Yu? He’s pretty easy to get along with as well. He’s my mentee, if you really consider it. If I have no children, he will inherit the throne after me.” 

“What about Gojo?” you question, sliding a map of the surrounding area forward and examining it carefully. As he drones on about the blue eyed man, you make sure your eyes cover every inch of the map and memorize the routes in and out of the camp. If you could just find a way to get over to the edge of the camp, you could easily hitch a ride back to your hometown and tell everyone about the General’s whereabouts. And expose Yuko for the traitor he is. 

“But do you enjoy your time with Kaori? I purposefully made her the head of maids so she would tend to you and you alone.” 

“Ah,” you push the map away and smile up at Geto, having finally found your escape route. “She’s lovely.” 

And Kaori would be even more lovely once she helped you with your plan to run away. 

_______________________________________________________________________

“How do you feel today?” Kaori wonders as you dress in your standard blue kimono.

“Quite well,” you answer, smiling back at her. She raises a brow, a grin forming on her lips. 

“Might this have anything to do with Master Geto?” 

You look back at the maid, and give her your best fake grin. “Maybe.” Kaori hums in surprise, then gathers her things up before leaving you alone again. “Oh, I almost forgot,” you begin, tying the kimono closed. “Could you bring me an extra pear or two with lunch today? I have a craving for them right now.” Kaori nods and bows slightly before walking out of the tent. 

Map? Check.

Clothes? Check.

Extra food? Check. 

The entire morning is spent pouring over the map, tracking your path in and out of the compound. You would have to walk a considerable distance, but it was perfectly fine. If you could manage to secure a horse, you’d probably get halfway home before anyone noticed you were missing, and that was a considerable head start. 

Your plan went into effect as soon as they announced dinner, and you wait patiently for Geto to come fetch you for the evening meal, laying in his bed with a pained expression. When he comes inside, he sees you clutching your stomach and hanging over the side of the bed a little. 

“Are you unwell?” he asks immediately, stooping by the bedside and smoothing your hair away from your face. You shake your head slowly, all of it an act, and he grumbles something about ‘knowing the food was undercooked at lunch’. Little did he know that you had stowed it away, along with a spare kimono of his and rudimentary copy of the map. 

You fake a cough for emphasis, and his hands fly to your face, patting the tender flesh of your cheeks and forehead. “You’re warm. I’ll have Kaori come and attend to-” 

“I don’t want her to catch what I have,” you moan, rolling over on your left side. 

“You shouldn’t be alone like this,” Geto urges, eyes frantically looking around the tent space for something. “I’ll… I’ll eat dinner here, then. I’ll stay with you.” You shake your head weakly, ignoring his panicked expression. 

“I can’t bear the smell of food right now… I just need some rest.” 

“And you shall have it,” Geto whispers, placing a tender kiss on your left hand. “I’ll be back within the hour to check on you.” And with that, he leaves you in the tent. When you suspect that he - and as a result, his friends - are all gone to eat, you slide out of the bed and retrieve your sack of things hidden underneath it. 

It isn’t escaping the camp that’s hard.

It’s running through the dead of night with only a sliver of moon to guide you that is most difficult. 

Without the daylight, you could easily mistake a patch of trees for a forest and river for a ravine. But it doesn’t matter. Your father had taught you how to tell the North from the South and the East from the West, and you relied on those skills now to guide you out of the camp. First, you have to locate the brightest star in the sky and just follow it to get on the right path. If it is directly overhead, you’d be on your way to determining which way to go. The makeshift map you have is telling you that you should wander northeast to get out of the confines of the camp, and you would be well on your way to your hometown. 

Except… 

You look back at the lights dotted around the camp behind you. 

What if you stayed? What if you stayed and made friends with the General? What if you stayed, made friends with the General, and then lured him in with a false sense of security? You adjust the sack on your back and think for a moment more.

He had let you remain in the tent by yourself. Not only was it a sign that he was finally beginning to trust you while you were alone, but also while you had all of the opportunity to escape, like you were now. Either that, or he’s more than confident that he would be able to find you and drag you back so he could execute his plan properly. 

The only thing that would come from you attempting to run away would be a chase, and you would more than likely be caught without a horse. Then, Geto would not hesitate to discipline you and make you submit to his will, and possibly never trust you again. 

“Flattery is the best persuader of people,” your father used to murmur, but you didn’t believe it back then; rolling your eyes at his old sayings. But now… perhaps you could work this to your advantage by staying. 

You trek back with the pack, dumping everything except the kimono nearby to avoid any suspicion. The kimono is placed back where it had been before, and you slump onto the bed - facing away from the tent opening - groaning with exhaustion and anxiety. 

The General returns what feels like a few minutes later and runs a hand down your back with care, humming in the darkness. He’s unsteady on his feet, it sounds like, and he anchors himself on the bed with one knee, leaning over you to brush a lock of hair away from your face. 

“If there’s one thing I know about Yuko,” he breathes, words tumbling out of his mouth like a bucket of apples. “He didn’t lie about beauty or character.” Geto slides in next you, wrapping an arm around your waist protectively and nestling his face into the crook of your neck. He places a kiss below your earlobe, then almost instantly afterward, he’s asleep. 

And although you want to squirm out of his arms and give him what-for, you don’t. The resolve in your new plan has set you on a path of compromise, and you would see this through until the end.

_______________________________________________________________________

Lips. They’re everywhere. On your face, trailing down your neck and accompanied by touches that stoke the flames of a fire you didn’t realize you had burning inside of you. 

When your eyes flutter open, it’s still night, but the General has let the wine go to his head. You let out an involuntary moan at the feeling of his fingers gripping the skin underneath your kimono before you snatch yourself out of his grasp, tumbling to the floor below and remembering how much you hated him. 

“Y/n… are you..” he hiccups a little. “Are you alright?” You push off of the ground in a fury, dusting yourself off and facing away from him as you yell:

“How dare you go back on your promise to not defile me, you filthy swine! Touching me in my sleep is low for even you, Your Majesty!” You spit the last two words at him, then stomp towards the flaps of the tent, which open with a flutter before you can get to them. 

Geto steps inside, his eyes meeting yours in a confused stare. 

“I heard you yelling and I--” He looks over your shoulder and frowns, squinting his eyes at the figure in the bed. “Get up.” When the man stumbles to the floor, Geto pulls you in behind him, shielding you from who really occupied the bed. 

“M-Master Geto, I can expla--” 

“Silence.” The deep bass of the General’s voice is unmatched, deadly, and practically telling of the punishment to come. Haibara and Gojo walk past you into the tent behind Geto, making lanterns glow and illuminate the tent space. “Do you know this man?” Geto roars, pointing an accusing finger at the offender as he turns to you, throwing daggers with his eyes. You look at the soon-to-be dead man, nostrils flaring. But you don’t recognize his face, nor his body. Nothing about this person is familiar.

“No, sir,” you state, and Geto starts a little at the sound of the formality falling from your lips. 

“Has he touched you in any way?” Your skin is crawling with what feels like a thousand little bugs, and you clutch your elbows instinctively. In one smooth motion, Geto turns to Gojo, who nods his head once and grabs the man’s hair, dragging him past you and Haibara as his screams of pain echo into the night. You feel two hands resting on your shoulders as you stare at the tent flaps, the fluttering of them barely revealing the man’s fate. It’s only when the screaming stops that you turn to Geto. “Are you hurt?” he asks, dipping his head a little to look into your eyes with his piercing black ones. 

“No, I’m fine.” 

“Where did he touch you?” You look over to Haibara, and Geto does as well, before waving the youth off. “Make sure Gojo takes care of…” 

“Of course,” Haibara replies, and with a sad smile thrown your way, he departs. Geto turns his attention back to you, taking your wrists in his hands. 

“Show me.” You move a hand across your chest and down your right thigh, grazing the spot where the man had grabbed you roughly. Then you swipe at your neck and face. “My gods,” he breathes before pulling you close. Tears threaten to leak out of your eyes, but you hold them at bay, trying to maintain the hysterics for later when you were alone. “I should have stayed.” 

“I should have let you.” 

_______________________________________________________________________

You awake enveloped in Geto’s warmth, unsure of when you fell asleep for the second time, but thankful for the body heat that wards off the night-time chill. When you move away from him, he does not awaken, but does stir a little. 

And that’s when you see it. The dragon on his arm is moving it’s head back and forth, eyes blinking lazily. At first you think you’re hallucinating, but when you rub your eyes and peer closer, it’s still moving; the entirety of its body doing a little dance side to side. 

“You should see it after a battle,” Geto murmurs sleepily, eyes trained on your astonished face. “Dancing is just how it wakes itself up.” You stare at the mythical being in silence, unsure of whether the true beast was the man before you or the tattoo on his arm. “How are you feeling?” Geto finally breaks the silence, sitting up and pushing himself out of the bed. 

“I feel alright.” He takes your hand, lifting it up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to the back. You pause, unsure of how to respond to such a gesture, but Geto keeps moving around the tent, adjusting the sheets and running his hands through his hair. 

“Have you ever thought about braiding it?” you wonder, and Geto looks over at you with an amused look. 

“I have; but no one here is skilled enough to braid - not even Kaori.” 

Wordlessly, you trek over to him and thread the locks of hair through your fingers. 

“How do you keep it so clean when you’re on the battlefield?” you wonder aloud, and Geto chuckles. 

“Water is a resource that I take full advantage of, little one.” He instinctively stops his movements and angles his head back so you can work the strands one over the other, finally ending the long braid with a simple strip of fabric from the edge of your kimono. 

“There.” Geto pulls the braid over his shoulder and examines it carefully, humming at the sight of your handiwork. 

“This is interesting, to say the least.” 

“It will keep things from getting caught in your hair, and I’m sure it feels much less ‘all over the place’.” 

“Indeed, it does,” he breathes, then reaches a hand out to touch your cheek affectionately. Without thinking, you lean into his touch, and after taking half a step forward, Geto places a kiss on your forehead. After this signal of affection, he leaves, making you wonder what was wrong with your face and if you actually had a fever - because your cheeks felt hotter than they had ever felt before.