#{ Edit: I just realized that I was only supposed to do ten. }

[burntoutdaydreamer]

Weird Brain Hacks That Help Me Write

I'm a consistently inconsistent writer/aspiring novelist, member of the burnt-out-gifted-kid-to-adult-ADHD-diagnosis-pipeline, recently unemployed overachiever, and person who's sick of hearing the conventional neurotypical advice to dealing with writer's block (i.e. "write every single day," or "there's no such thing as writer's block- if you're struggling to write, just write" Like F*CK THAT. Thank you, Brenda, why don't you go and tell someone with diabetes to just start producing more insulin?)

I've yet to get to a point in my life where I'm able to consistently write at the pace I want to, but I've come a long way from where I was a few years ago. In the past five years I've written two drafts of a 130,000 word fantasy novel (currently working on the third) and I'm about 50,000 words in on the sequel. I've hit a bit of a snag recently, but now that I've suddenly got a lot of time on my hands, I'm hoping to revamp things and return to the basics that have gotten me to this point and I thought I might share.

1) My first draft stays between me and God

I find that I and a lot of other writers unfortunately have gotten it into our heads that first drafts are supposed to resemble the finished product and that revisions are only for fixing minor mistakes. Therefore, if our first draft sucks that must mean we suck as writers and having to rewrite things from scratch means that means our first draft is a failure.

I'm here to say that is one of the most detrimental mentalities you can have as a writer.

Ever try drawing a circle? You know how when you try to free-hand draw a perfect circle in one go, it never turns out right? Whereas if you scribble, say, ten circles on top of one another really quickly and then erase the messy lines until it looks like you drew a circle with a singular line, it ends up looking pretty decent?

Yeah. That's what the drafting process is.

Your first draft is supposed to suck. I don't care who you are, but you're never going to write a perfect first draft, especially if you're inexperienced. The purpose of the first draft is to lay down a semi-workable foundation. A really loose, messy sketch if you will. Get it all down on paper, even if it turns out to be the most cliche, cringe-inducing writing you've ever done. You can work out those kinks in the later drafts. The hardest part of the first draft is the most crucial part: getting started. Don't stress yourself out and make it even harder than it already is.

If that means making a promise to yourself that no one other than you will ever read your first draft unless it's over your cold, dead body, so be it.

2) Tell perfectionism to screw off by writing with a pen

I used to exclusively write with pencil until I realized I was spending more time erasing instead of writing.

Writing with a pen keeps me from editing while I right. Like, sometimes I'll have to cross something out or make notes in the margins, but unlike erasing and rewriting, this leaves the page looking like a disaster zone and that's a good thing.

If my writing looks like a complete mess on paper, that helps me move past the perfectionist paralysis and just focus on getting words down on the page. Somehow seeing a page full of chicken scratch makes me less worried about making my writing all perfect and pretty- and that helps me get on with my main goal of fleshing out ideas and getting words on a page.

3) It's okay to leave things blank when you can't think of the right word

My writing, especially my first draft, is often filled with ___ and .... and (insert name here) and red text that reads like stage directions because I can't think of what is supposed to go there or the correct way to write it.

I found it helps to treat my writing like I do multiple choice tests. Can't think of the right answer? Just skip it. Circle it, come back to it later, but don't let one tricky question stall you to the point where you run out of brain power or run out of time to answer the other questions.

If I'm on a role, I'm not gonna waste it by trying to remember that exact word that I need or figure out the right transition into the next scene or paragraph. I'm just going to leave it blank, mark to myself that I'll need to fix the problem later, and move on.

Trust me. This helps me sooooo much with staying on a roll.

4) Write Out of Order

This may not be for everyone, but it works wonders for me.

Sure, the story your writing may need to progress chronologically, but does that mean you need to write it chronologically? No. It just needs to be written.

I generally don't do this as much for editing, but for writing, so long as you're making progress, it doesn't matter if it's in the right order. Can't think of how to structure Chapter 2, but you have a pretty good idea of how your story's going to end? Write the ending then. You'll have to go back and write Chapter 2 eventually, but if you're feeling more motivated to write a completely different part of the book, who's to say you can't do that?

When I'm working on a project, I start off with a single document that I title "Scrap for (Project Title)" and then just write whatever comes to mind, in whatever order. Once I've gotten enough to work with, then I start outlining my plot and predicting how many chapters I'm going to need. Then, I create separate google docs for each individual chapter and work on them in whatever order I feel like, often leaving several partially complete as I jump from one to the other. Then, as each one gets finished, I copy and paste the chapter into the full manuscript document. This means that the official "draft" could have Chapters 1 and 9, but completely be missing Chapters 2-8, and that's fine. It's not like anyone will ever know once I finish it.

Sorry for the absurdly long post. Hopes this helps someone. Maybe I'll share more tricks in the future.

[dancingdonatello]

Just hear me out…. 2012 Leo X Reader who hates space hero’s…..i want drama.. 🥹 But then she “unfortunately” buys him a cpt. Ryan action figure to make up for it. He forgives her obvi

2012 leo x reader

You hadn’t expected for the argument to go this far.

He had stopped responding to your texts. He had given you the cold shoulder when you had shown up to the lair. You could tell he still followed you home after work to make sure you make it safely, but he never made an effort to say anything.

He was pissed.

Yes, you hated the show. Yes, you teased him about watching it all the time. But you only bugged him about it to get a reaction out of him. You had never realized he was taking it to heart until he finally snapped at you.

You trudged your way home, glancing up at the buildings’ rooftops to your left. You could see a faint shadow following you, keeping pace effortlessly. You rolled your eyes. He was such a show off without even realizing it.

You sighed and stopped dead in your tracks, looking around. There. A kids toy store. You scoffed and walked towards it, feeling a pointed stare at the back of your head.

You searched relentlessly through the aisles and finally found it. A limited Captain Ryan action figure. You couldn’t believe you were even doing this. The thing was so ugly… so lame.

You picked it up and slammed it onto the check out counter, scaring the poor cashier.

You paid an ungodly amount for it and stalked out of the store. You looked to your right, right where a dark alleyway was and locked eyes with a deep blue gaze. You smirked. You knew it.

“What are you doing?” He asked, clearly suspicious.

“Here.” You held it out with him, fingers almost crinkling the plastic. He nabbed it out of your grip, smoothing out the container as best he can. Nerd. Dork.

“You… bought this for me?” He looked up at you. “But it’s limited edition.”

“Yeah, how else were you supposed to do it? Wait ten years for someone to accidentally throw one into a dumpster?” You raised an eyebrow.

“How’d you even know it was for sale?” He held it close to his chest, eyes sparkling.

“I listen to you when you talk. Nerd.” You snickered at the offended look he gave you. But thankfully, he didn’t look as mad as before. He actually looked… bashful.

“Thank you.”

“Yep. Now am I forgiven?” You walked around him to continue your trek home and he fell into step beside you. He moved the action figure to his left hand so his right hand was free to grab yours.

“…I guess.”

“You guess?! That was $100!”

[mythicalmaven]

Practice makes perfect - Landoscar (ONESHOT)

masterlist

Here is a little extra upload to celebrate me reaching 100 followers! <3 My first Landoscar smut! Couldn't help myself guys! I hope you like it, let me know!

↳pairing: oscar piastri x lando norris ↳word count: 6.4K ↳warnings: smut, 18+ content (MDNI!), handjob (both receiving), oral sex, coming untouched, feelings, fluff, talking about sex, kissing, praising, feelings realization, explicit sexual content, friends to lovers

↳summary: Oscar doesn't now how to seduce a girl & Lando is there to help. Lando is basically offering that Oscar can practice with him, while he teaches him his ways. Whatever they were doing, it wasn't supposed to make Oscar feel the way it did. After all, Lando was only there to help. Yet it evolved their once purely platonic relationship into something deeper.

The first time it happened was race weekend. Oscar lay on the couch in his drivers' room, frustration building as he stared at his phone. With a growl of exasperation, he threw it against the wall, grateful for the indestructible case that protected it.

It took no more than ten seconds before Lando barged into the room, not even bothering to knock. "What the hell happened?"

Oscar groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Nothing, just... I'm so frustrated, man."

Lando raised an eyebrow, taking a seat opposite Oscar. "Frustrated about what?"

Oscar sighed heavily, lifting his head to meet Lando's concerned gaze. "I was scrolling through my feed and stumbled upon this video. Some edited thirst trap of me, saying how hot I am. And it just... it got to me."

Lando frowned. "Why? People think you're hot, that's a good thing, right?"

Oscar huffed, leaning back against the couch. "It is, but it feels like a cruel joke. People can think that way about me, but I can't even get a girl to look at me twice. Meanwhile, you just look at a girl, and she follows you to your bedroom."

Lando chuckled, shaking his head. "It's not as easy as you think, Oscar. But seriously, it shouldn't be that hard for you. What's the issue?"

Oscar ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched on his face. "I freeze, Lando. I see a girl, and I can talk to her a little, but when it comes to seducing her, I just... I can't. I get to the point of kissing, but anything more intimate, I freeze up. I'm scared of screwing it up, so I don't even try. But it's driving me insane. I just want to get laid."

Lando's expression softened. "You need to loosen up a bit. Try being sensual, use lingering touches, suggestive words."

Oscar shook his head, looking helpless. "I don't know how to do any of that. I don't know what to say, where to touch. I'm not a virgin; I've had girlfriends before, but one-night stands? I just can't figure it out. I want to be able to seduce someone, to praise her, but I don't know how."

Lando's eyes glinted with a hint of mischief as he leaned closer. "I could help you, teach you a thing or two."

Oscar looked at him, surprised. "What do you mean?"

Lando's smile turned suggestive. "You can practice on me."

Oscar's heart skipped a beat. He hesitated, the idea making his pulse race. "Wouldn't that make things weird? We're teammates."

Lando shrugged. "It's just a way to help a friend out. Nothing more."

Oscar gulped, nerves making his hands tremble. "How are you planning on doing that?"

Lando's smile widened. "I have two ideas. I could show you how I'd seduce a girl and do those things to you, or you could practice on me, and I'll guide you."

The tension in the room thickened as Oscar considered it. The mere idea of Lando touching him that way stirred unexpected arousal within him. Was he even into guys? He'd always found Lando handsome, but he'd never thought of him in that way. He tried to push those thoughts aside.

"Alright," Oscar said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Let's try it."

Lando's hand moved to Oscar's thigh, squeezing lightly. "We can try both methods, but let's start with a little practice. Pretend I'm someone in a club you're trying to seduce. I'll guide you."

Oscar nodded, his throat dry. Lando's hand crept upwards, inching closer, causing Oscar's breath to hitch. It shouldn't make him feel this way, but it did. Lando's touch was both electrifying and comforting.

"Relax," Lando murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Start with a light touch. Girls like it when you're gentle but confident."

Oscar placed a trembling hand on Lando's arm, trailing his fingers lightly over the fabric of his shirt. The heat of Lando's skin seeped through, making Oscar's pulse quicken.

"Good," Lando said, his eyes darkening with something Oscar couldn't quite place. "Now, try touching my neck. Most girls love that."

Oscar's fingers traced up to Lando's neck, the skin soft and smooth. He could feel Lando's pulse beneath his fingertips, matching the rapid beat of his own heart. He brushed his thumb over the pulse point, and Lando's breath hitched.

"Like this?" Oscar asked, his voice barely audible.

"Exactly," Lando breathed, his eyes half-lidded. "Now, compliment her. Tell her what you like about her."

Oscar's mind raced, struggling to find the right words. "You look... really good," he said, his voice shaky. "I like your eyes."

Lando chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down Oscar's spine. "Try to sound more confident. Mean it."

Oscar took a deep breath, steadying himself. "You look amazing. Your eyes are captivating."

Lando's hand moved higher up Oscar's thigh, and he bit back a moan. "Better. Then, try kissing her neck. Just lightly."

Oscar hesitated, then leaned in, his lips brushing against Lando's neck. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through him, and he felt Lando's breath catch. He kissed softly, trailing his lips up to Lando's jawline.

"That's it," Lando whispered, his voice rough with arousal. "Keep going."

Oscar's confidence grew with each kiss, his hands exploring Lando's body with increasing boldness. He could feel Lando's arousal mirroring his own, making him bolder. His hand trailed down to Lando's chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

Lando's hand moved to Oscar's jeans, palming him gently. Oscar gasped, his hips jerking involuntarily. "How does that feel?" Lando asked, his voice thick with desire.

"Amazing," Oscar managed to say, his voice strained. "It feels really good."

"Tell me what you like," Lando instructed, his hand working Oscar through his jeans.

"I... I like the way you touch me," Oscar said, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "It makes me feel..."

"Feel what?" Lando prompted, his hand squeezing lightly.

"Hot. Aroused," Oscar admitted, a moan escaping his lips. "I like how you look at me, how you make me feel."

Lando smiled, his eyes dark with lust. "Good. Now, let’s take it a step further. Guide my hand, show me what you want."

Oscar's hand trembled as he placed it over Lando's, guiding him to his zipper. The sound of it opening was loud in the quiet room, and Oscar's breath hitched as Lando's hand slipped inside. The warmth and firmness of Lando's hand wrapped around Oscar's hardness, sending a shiver through him.

"Tell me how it feels," Lando whispered, his hand starting to move slowly, teasingly.

"So good," Oscar moaned, his hips bucking into Lando's touch. "It feels so good."

Lando's movements were slow and deliberate, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through Oscar's body. He could feel himself nearing the edge, his control slipping. "Keep talking," Lando urged, his own voice strained with desire.

"You’re so good at this," Oscar managed to say, his voice breaking. "I can’t... I can’t hold back."

"Then don’t," Lando murmured, his lips brushing against Oscar's ear. "Let go, Oscar. I’ve got you."

Oscar bit his lip, trying to hold back the tide of pleasure threatening to overwhelm him. He placed a trembling hand on Lando's wrist, stopping his movements. "Wait," he gasped, his voice hoarse. "Slow down a little, or I’ll come already. I don't want to yet. You need to teach me more."

Lando chuckled softly, a deep, throaty sound that sent a fresh wave of arousal through Oscar. "Alright, let's take it slow." He pulled his hand back slightly, easing the intensity. "While she's touching you like this, you can do things to drive her wild too. Try pulling her hair, kissing her neck, whispering in her ear."

Oscar nodded, his breath coming in short, heavy bursts. He reached up, his fingers tangling in Lando's hair, pulling gently. Lando's sharp intake of breath and the low moan that followed made Oscar's heart race.

"Good," Lando said, his voice rough. "That feels good, Oscar. Keep going."

Oscar's confidence grew with each response from Lando. He leaned in, his lips brushing against Lando's neck, kissing lightly. The feel of Lando's skin under his lips, the taste of salt and musk, was intoxicating. He nibbled gently, earning another moan from Lando.

"You’re doing great," Lando murmured, his own arousal evident. "Now, try whispering something in my ear. Tell me how good I make you feel."

Oscar's breath hitched as he moved closer to Lando's ear. "You make me feel incredible," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I've never felt like this before."

Lando's hand resumed its slow, deliberate movements on Oscar's hardness, drawing out the pleasure with expert precision. "And while you're doing that," Lando said, his voice a seductive purr, "keep touching me. Show me what you want."

Oscar's hand moved down Lando's body, trembling fingers finding the edge of Lando's shirt and slipping underneath, feeling the firm muscles of his abdomen. The sensation was dizzying, his own arousal mirrored in Lando's heavy breathing and darkened eyes.

"Lando," Oscar moaned, his hips bucking into Lando's hand again. "I need... I need more."

Lando's eyes gleamed with a mixture of lust and satisfaction. "Tell me what you need, Oscar. Don't hold back."

"I need you to touch me more," Oscar gasped, his control slipping further with each stroke of Lando's hand. "I need you to make me feel good."

Lando's hand moved with purpose now, each stroke precise and demanding, driving Oscar closer to the edge. Oscar's other hand found its way to Lando's jeans, mirroring Lando's earlier actions, feeling the hardness beneath and squeezing gently.

Lando's groan was deep and resonant, sending a fresh wave of desire through Oscar. "That's it," Lando encouraged, his voice thick. "Touch me like that. Show me what you want."

Oscar's movements became more confident, his hand working Lando's jeans open and slipping inside, finding the heated length of him. The feel of Lando in his hand, the sounds of his pleasure, pushed Oscar closer to the brink.

"Feels so good," Oscar murmured, his own voice raw with need. "You make me feel so good."

Lando's hand sped up, matching the rhythm of Oscar's strokes. The room was filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing, the wet, slick sounds of their arousal. Oscar could feel the tension coiling in his stomach, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak.

"Lando, I..." Oscar's words were cut off by a moan as Lando's thumb brushed over the sensitive tip of his length, sending him spiraling.

"Let go," Lando whispered, his lips brushing Oscar's ear again. "Come for me, Oscar. I've got you."

With a final, shuddering cry, Oscar let himself go, the pleasure crashing over him in waves, his release spilling over Lando's hand. Lando's own release followed shortly after, his groan of pleasure mingling with Oscar's moans.

They collapsed against each other, their breathing heavy and uneven, the room filled with the aftermath of their shared pleasure.

"See?" Lando said softly, his hand gently stroking Oscar's back. "You just needed to loosen up a bit."

Oscar nodded, still trying to catch his breath. "Thank you," he said, his voice barely audible.

"Anytime," Lando replied, a smile in his voice. "Anytime."

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

The second time it happened was less than a week later. This time they were lounging together in Lando's hotel room, each a ps5 controller in hand, trying to beat each other in a game of Fifa.

Lando nudged Oscar with his own shoulder "Soooo.. Max mentioned that he saw you making out with a girl last night" he started, sending a cheeky wink his way "Have you tried to use your newly achieved skills?"

Oscar sighs. He did, he tried. Did it work? No. Was it because of the reason Lando expected it to fail? Also no. Was he gonna tell Lando to truth? Absolutely not.

"Yeah, I tried. But I froze" this part was true, he did freeze up the minute he was kissing the girl he met in the club, but not for the reason he expected "I just couldn't do it, you know"

Him failing to seduce the girl this time had nothing to do with the initial problem. It had to do with a certain boy with beautiful curls and captivating eyes. In all honesty, he couldn't stop thinking about Lando ever since he helped him out.

Oscar was conflicted with himself, confused about how he felt. He was at war with himself, trying to convince himself that he wasn't into Lando like that. He couldn't be and he shouldn't be. After all, Lando only helped him out to do him a favor, nothing more, nothing less.

Yet thinking about that curly haired boy was exactly why he failed to seduce the girl, or actually, why he pulled back and came up with a lame excuse as to why he had to go.

*flashback*

Oscar stood in the dimly lit club, the bass of the music thrumming through his body. The atmosphere was electric, filled with people dancing, drinking, and losing themselves in the night. He had decided that tonight he was going to put everything Lando had taught him into action. He had found a girl—blonde, beautiful, and more than willing to make out with him in a secluded corner. As they kissed, Oscar tried to remember all the tips Lando had given him: be confident, use lingering touches, whisper seductive words.

To anyone watching, it looked like Oscar was succeeding. His hands moved over her body with practiced ease, his lips tracing along her neck just as Lando had shown him. But inside, Oscar was a mess. Every touch, every kiss felt wrong. He couldn’t stop thinking about Lando. In his mind, it was Lando he was kissing, Lando he was trying to seduce. The girl’s hands were too soft, too feminine, and they did nothing to arouse him. He hated himself for wishing they were Lando’s hands, rougher and more familiar.

He tried to push the thoughts away, focusing on the girl in front of him. His hand tangled in her long blonde locks, a gesture that normally would have excited him. But tonight, it just felt empty. He couldn’t stop thinking about how it wasn’t Lando’s hair slipping through his fingers. Each moment felt like a betrayal, both to the girl and to himself.

They pulled away from the kiss, and Oscar felt a wave of guilt crash over him. Guilt for how he was feeling about Lando and guilt for leading this girl on. He looked into her eyes, trying to muster some genuine enthusiasm, but all he felt was confusion and regret.

“Do you want to go somewhere more private?” she asked, her voice hopeful and soft.

Oscar swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “I… I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, his voice shaky. “I don’t want to do something I’m not sure about.”

The girl looked slightly disappointed, but her expression quickly softened. “It’s okay,” she said kindly. “I appreciate your honesty. More guys should be like you.”

Oscar forced a smile, relieved and yet more guilt-ridden. “It’s really not about you,” he said sincerely. “You’re beautiful, and you deserve to spend the night with someone who really wants it.”

She smiled warmly, her eyes full of understanding. “Thank you for saying that. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

A thought immediately made its appearance: I'm afraid I already did

With a polite nod, they went their separate ways. Oscar watched her disappear into the crowd, feeling the weight of his guilt settle deeper. He felt guilty for misleading her, and even more guilty for his feelings towards Lando. He shouldn’t feel this way. He couldn’t.

As he walked through the club, the sounds and sights fading into the background, Oscar couldn’t help but think about Lando. No matter how much he tried to deny it, he knew the truth. His feelings for Lando were more than just friendly admiration. And that realization terrified him.

*end of flashback*

"It honestly surprises me how one F1's biggest hotshots isn't able to get with a girl" he chuckled, while scoring a goal in Fifa against Oscar's team "I expected girls to just get on their knees for you without you even having to say a word"

Did he just call Oscar hot? He did, didn't he?

Oscar shrugged "I'm not even that attractive tho" he retorted, speaking in all honesty.

Lando rolled his eyes “Yeah right, and I'm six feet tall,” he objected, shaking his head. “Come on, Osc, look in the mirror. You're handsome as fuck. Don't be so insecure.”

Oscar sighed, trying to distract himself by focusing on the game he was playing. “Whatever,” he muttered, still not really believing what Lando said. “I just don’t know what’s wrong with me, you know? I just can’t do it.”

Lando paused the game and turned to face Oscar, his expression softening. “Maybe you just need more practice,” he suggested. “How about another session? I can show you exactly what I would do if you want.”

Oscar's heart skipped a beat. He barely nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. “Okay,” he said quietly.

Lando scooted closer, their knees touching. “Alright,” he began, his voice low and soothing. “First, let’s start with the basics.” He placed his hand on Oscar’s thigh, his touch lingering. “When you’re with a girl, it’s important to make her feel wanted. Touch her like this.” His fingers traced slow, deliberate circles on Oscar’s thigh.

Oscar’s breath hitched, his body responding to Lando’s touch in ways he hadn’t expected. Lando continued, his voice a seductive whisper. “Now, when you kiss her neck, don’t just peck. Use your tongue, but gently. Like this.” He leaned in, his lips brushing against Oscar’s neck before planting a soft kiss. “Most girls love it when you kiss their neck. It’s sensitive.”

Oscar shivered, his eyes fluttering shut. He tried to imagine he was with a girl, but all he could think about was Lando. “What else?” he asked, his voice shaky.

“Pull her hair, but gently,” Lando instructed, his hand sliding up to Oscar’s hair. He gave a gentle tug, eliciting a soft moan from Oscar. “See? It’s about being in control, but also being tender.”

Oscar’s mind was spinning. He was aroused, confused, and desperate for more. Lando’s touch was driving him wild. “Lando,” he breathed, “I… I can’t…”

Lando smiled softly, his hand reaching up to cup Oscar’s face with a tenderness that made Oscar’s breath hitch. “It’s okay,” Lando murmured, his voice low and reassuring. “You’re doing great.” He leaned in closer, their lips almost touching, the warmth of his breath mingling with Oscar’s. “When you’re ready to kiss her, make it count. The way you use your hands, the way you use your tongue… it can make a world of difference.” His eyes locked with Oscar’s, a glint of mischief and confidence in his gaze. “Can I show you what I mean?”

Oscar, heart racing, could barely manage a whisper. “Yes.”

Lando closed the distance, his lips brushing softly against Oscar’s in a kiss that was both gentle and teasing. The initial contact was light, just a whisper of sensation that sent shivers down Oscar’s spine. Lando’s lips moved with deliberate, slow caresses, exploring the contours of Oscar’s mouth with a finesse that was both sensual and instructive. He traced the shape of Oscar’s lips with his own, occasionally grazing them with the tip of his tongue, sending jolts of warmth and anticipation through Oscar’s body.

Lando’s hand slid behind Oscar’s neck, fingers splayed as he pulled him closer. The intimacy of the touch made Oscar feel like he was floating, his heart pounding so fiercely it felt almost painful. Lando’s tongue danced against Oscar’s in a languid, practiced rhythm, coaxing and teasing with an expert touch. It was a kiss that spoke of patience and precision, drawing out the nuances of every movement, every flutter of the tongue.

When Lando finally pulled back slightly, his lips still hovering near Oscar’s, he met his gaze with a playful glint. “See, the key is to start off gentle, to let the kiss build up. It helps you gauge how she responds, and it makes the moment feel more intense when you decide to deepen it.”

Oscar’s eyes were wide, his breath ragged from the previous kiss. “It felt… incredible.”

Lando’s smile widened as he leaned in again, this time with a more intense purpose. “But you can also kiss her like this.” His lips captured Oscar’s once more, but this time with a fervor that was anything but restrained. The kiss was fiery and unrelenting, every touch of Lando’s tongue bold and demanding. He explored the inside of Oscar’s mouth with an urgent passion, as if trying to consume him with the intensity of the moment.

Oscar’s response was immediate and visceral. He moaned softly into the kiss, the sound muffled but filled with a raw, breathless need. His hands tightened on Lando’s shoulders, his body pressing closer, overwhelmed by the sensation. The kiss was a whirlwind of heat and sensation that left Oscar gasping, his mind momentarily blank as he tried to keep up with the intoxicating rhythm.

When Lando finally pulled away, his eyes were dark with satisfaction. “That’s the kind of kiss that leaves a mark, something she’ll remember. It’s not just about technique—it’s about making her feel every bit of passion you’ve got.”

Oscar was breathless, his lips tingling and his chest rising and falling rapidly. The kiss had left him reeling, his emotions a tangled mess of excitement and confusion. He looked at Lando, still trying to process the overwhelming rush of feelings.

Lando chuckled softly, his thumb brushing across Oscar’s flushed cheek, his lips grazing Oscar’s as he spoke. “Touch me,” he instructed. “It makes it easier for me to show you how to praise a girl"

Oscar hesitated for a moment before his hands started to explore Lando’s body, sliding under his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin. “Your hands feel so good, Osc” he murmured, his voice trembling.

Lando's hand moved to palm Oscar through his jeans, causing him to gasp. “See how good that feels?” Lando whispered. “Tell her that you love the way she's responding to you. Tell her how much you like it.” He pressed his palm more firmly, eliciting a louder moan from Oscar.

“Lando… I need… I can’t…” Oscar stuttered, his body trembling with arousal, still trying to fight against the feelings he developed for his teammate.

Lando smiled, his hand continuing its slow, torturous movements. “You can, Osc. You’re doing amazing. Just let it happen.” He leaned in to kiss Oscar’s neck again, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “It’s all about making her feel desired, cherished.”

Oscar’s moans grew louder, his body arching into Lando’s touch. “Lando, please… I…”

“Do you want me to stop?” Lando asked, his voice husky.

“No, just… slow down a bit,” Oscar pleaded. “I don’t want to come in my pants like a fucking teenager”

Lando chuckled softly, his hand slowing its movements. “Alright, we can take our time.” He guided Oscar’s hand to his own crotch. “Touch me now, Oscar. Show me what you’ve learned.”

Oscar’s hand trembled as he began to touch Lando through his jeans. The sounds Lando made in response sent shivers down Oscar’s spine. “You’re doing great,” Lando praised, his voice breathless. “Tell her how much you want her.”

Oscar tried to form coherent sentences, but all that came out were stuttered words and moans. “You feel… so good, Lando. I want… I need…”

Lando took Oscar’s hands and gently slid them under the hem of his shirt, guiding them to his back. “Feel my back with your fingers, Osc,” he murmured, his voice a blend of encouragement and intimacy. “I love it when someone touches my back like that. It’s like a spark of connection, you know?” He paused, a hint of color rising to his cheeks as he realized his slip. With a sheepish grin, he added, “Uh, but yeah, you can definitely use the same touch on her too.”

Oscar’s fingers glided over Lando’s back, tracing the firm muscles beneath his shirt. As he explored, a smile spread across his face, touched by the unexpected intimacy of the moment. He couldn’t help but let out a soft, appreciative moan, both from the sensation and Lando’s accidental confession.

His eyes met Lando’s with a mix of gratitude and playfulness. “You know,” Oscar said, his voice warm and sincere, “you deserve to enjoy this as much as I do. After all, you’re the one helping me figure all this out.”

He continued his gentle exploration, his touch lingering as he enjoyed the closeness and the subtle shift in their dynamic. The connection between them felt deeper, a shared understanding making the moment all the more special.

Lando’s hand slipped into Oscar’s boxers, his touch deliberate and confident as he wrapped around him firmly. The sensation of Lando’s warm fingers gripping him sent shivers through Oscar’s body, heightening the intensity of his pleasure.

“You’re so vocal, Oscar,” Lando said, his voice a low purr of satisfaction. “That’s good. Girls love hearing how much they’re pleasing you.” He began to move his hand with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each stroke methodical and teasing. He varied the pressure, alternating between light caresses and firmer grips, making sure to focus on every sensitive area with precision "Do you like having my hands on you? Tell me how it feels, Osc"

Oscar’s breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, his body trembling with each calculated stroke. “Feels… amazing,” he managed to gasp out, his voice trembling. “So good…”

Lando’s other hand moved up to tangle gently in Oscar’s hair, his fingers brushing softly against his scalp as he pulled him closer. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice husky with admiration. “So responsive. It’s hot, Oscar.”

The praise and the careful, attentive touch only heightened Oscar’s sensations. His moans grew louder, each one escaping his lips in a desperate, breathless rush. Lando’s hand moved with a practiced rhythm, his strokes growing increasingly intense as he built Oscar closer to the edge. He varied the speed, sometimes dragging his fingers slowly and deliberately, and other times quickening the pace just enough to drive Oscar wild.

Oscar’s entire body was on fire, every nerve ending heightened by Lando’s touch. His hands gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles white, as he struggled to hold onto his composure. The waves of pleasure were cresting higher, leaving him gasping for breath.

“Lando…” Oscar managed to whimper, his voice breaking with the overwhelming sensation. “I’m… I’m so close…”

Lando’s fingers tightened ever so slightly, his strokes becoming more focused and deliberate, drawing out the tension with a teasing, almost sadistic precision. “I know, baby. Almost, just a little longer,” Lando coaxed softly, the endearment slipping from his lips before he realized it.

Oscar’s head fell back, his moans escalating as he neared the peak. The build-up was relentless, every touch and caress pushing him closer until he was on the brink, unable to hold back any longer. “I-I can’t, Lan…”

“You can, Osc. I know you can,” Lando said firmly, his voice both encouraging and commanding. He continued his movements with a deliberate rhythm, his touch skillful and unwavering. The combination of gentle and intense strokes, along with the steady pressure of his hand, kept Oscar right on the edge of his climax.

Lando’s eyes were focused on Oscar, watching every shiver, every trembling gasp as he worked to drive him to the brink. He maintained a steady pace, every movement calculated to heighten the pleasure. “Feel it, Osc. You’re so close.”

Oscar’s body was taut with anticipation, each stroke and caress amplifying the intensity of his pleasure. His moans grew more urgent, more desperate, as he fought to hold on for just a little longer. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his body shaking uncontrollably.

Lando, feeling the culmination of their shared moment, pressed his lips fiercely against Oscar’s, capturing him in a heated, passionate kiss. The kiss was fervent and consuming, Lando’s tongue dancing with Oscar’s as he continued to stroke him.

Oscar’s moans vibrated against Lando’s lips, the overwhelming pleasure and the heat of the kiss combining into a heady mix. Lando’s kiss was insistent and greedy, a way of anchoring their shared experience in a moment of pure, unrestrained intimacy.

Finally, unable to hold back any longer, Oscar’s body convulsed in a powerful release, a shuddering climax that left him breathless and weak.

"F-fuck, Lando" he moaned as the waves of pleasure hit him, his moans were muffled but intense, his head falling back in ecstasy. His release spilling over Lando’s hand. He collapsed against Lando, panting and trembling, while Lando continued to stroke him gently, prolonging the lingering aftershocks of his orgasm.

Once Oscar had regained his senses, he looked at Lando with a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment. “Do you want me to help you out?” he asked, his voice still shaky.

Lando smiled, shaking his head. “I- Euh-" he stuttered a little, confident Lando norris, at loss for words "I-I already came,” he confessed, glancing down at the wet patch on his jeans. “You were so hot, I couldn’t hold back"

Oscar felt a strange sense of satisfaction and relief. He leaned in and kissed Lando softly, their lips lingering for a moment. “Fucking hell, that's so hot"

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

The third time it happened was during the race weekend in Miami. It started out innocent. The two of them texting the night before race day, before evolving into more after Lando claimed his maiden win.

*Flashback*

Oscar was laying in his hotel bed, his phone in his hands as he texted his teammate. Nerves pooling in his stomach, afraid to text Lando what he was planning on.

Oscar: I think I've figured out why I always fail to get a girl

Lando: 👀

Oscar: I think I might be into guys.

Lando: Well, I'm surprised you didn't figure that out sooner😂

Oscar: What's that supposed to mean?

Lando: Osc, you wouldn't have been able to get your dick up when I touched you, if you weren't into guys. Lando: And you most certainly wouldn't have spilled all over my hands, twice🤭

Oscar: Whoops🫠

Lando: Don't worry about it too much, Osc. There's nothing wrong with being into guys

Oscar: Don't get me wrong, I like girls, I really do. Oscar: But I think I prefer guys when it comes to one night stands🫣

Lando: Hey, that makes two of us then. Lando: Although I must admit that I prefer guys in general

*end of flashback*

Lando had done it; he’d actually won the race. The pride and elation surged through Oscar as he watched Lando on the top step of the podium, the victory sparkling in every corner of the grandstand. The sight of Lando, tears streaming down his face and a look of sheer relief, was a moment of pure emotion. Oscar’s heart swelled with pride and joy, mirroring Lando’s tears as he felt the victory was as much his as it was Lando’s.

After Lando had finished all his obligatory duties, Oscar awaited him in the driver’s room, sitting on the couch with barely contained anticipation.

The door finally opened, and Lando walked in, his racing suit hanging low on his waist, the fireproofs clinging to his body, drenched in champagne, his emotions visibly overwhelming him. He was surprised to see Oscar there, his gaze meeting Oscar's as he closed the door behind him. “Hi,” Lando murmured, the grin on his face as wide as it had been on the podium.

Oscar sprang from the couch and hurled himself into Lando’s arms, his voice a whisper of fervent pride as he buried his face in Lando’s neck. “I’m so proud of you, Lan,” he murmured, his hands wrapping around Lando’s waist, feeling the damp fabric of the fireproofs.

Lando smiled, pulling Oscar closer, his arms encircling him tightly. “I finally did it, Osc. I finally did it,” he whispered back, the joy in his voice palpable.

Oscar reluctantly pulled away from the embrace, his eyes filled with a mix of mischief and desire. He guided Lando backwards until his back hit the closed door, trapping him between the door and Oscar’s body. With a purposeful, suggestive look, Oscar lowered himself to his knees, his eyes sparkling with a cheeky grin. “Can I?” he asked, his hands sliding to the hem of Lando’s race suit that hung low on his hips. “I wanna make you feel good. You deserve it.”

Lando’s eyebrows shot up, a mix of surprise and curiosity crossing his face. “Is this because you figured out you're into guys? Do you want me to teach you how to give a blowjob, just in case you need it in the club next time?” His voice held a small pang of hurt, a hint of insecurity clouding his expression.

Oscar looked confused for a moment. “What are you talking about?”

Lando explained, “I realized we only focused on how to please a girl last time, so I assumed you wanted to do this for that reason.”

Oscar stood up, cupping Lando’s cheeks with a sincere gaze. “Lan, can we please stop pretending that us being intimate is just about teaching me how to seduce someone else? We both know it stopped serving that purpose the moment you made me cum for the first time.” He rested his forehead against Lando’s, his voice soft but firm. “I don’t want you to teach me how to please someone else. I want you to teach me how to please you.”

Lando, his heart pounding, grabbed Oscar by the collar of his fireproofs and pulled him into a searing kiss. The kiss was intense, a wild torrent of emotions and need that surged between them. Lando’s lips crashed against Oscar’s with a fervor that spoke of their shared passion and connection. Their hands roamed over each other’s bodies, exploring and grasping, the heat between them building rapidly.

Oscar’s hands slid up Lando’s chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath the damp fireproofs. He pulled Lando’s suit down around his ankles, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring the anticipation and the intimate closeness. As he looked up at Lando, his voice was a hushed plea. “Please, let me make you feel good.”

Oscar, his hands steady but his heart racing, looked up at Lando with a mix of excitement and apprehension. “Can you guide me? Tell me what you like and how to do it right? I've never done this before”

Lando’s eyes softened with affection, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Of course,” he replied, his voice husky with desire. “I’d love nothing more.” His hand gently cupped the back of Oscar’s head, guiding him with a tender touch.

Oscar’s hands continued their slow exploration, his fingers brushing against Lando’s exposed skin. Lando’s breathing quickened as Oscar’s lips made contact with him, the initial touch gentle and exploratory.

“Start slow,” Lando instructed softly, his voice a blend of encouragement and need. “Use your lips to explore first. Pay attention to how I respond. Feel what makes me shiver or moan.”

Oscar nodded, taking his time to follow Lando’s guidance. His lips brushed softly against Lando's thigh, his kisses light and teasing. Each touch was deliberate, a tender exploration that drew a soft gasp from Lando. He then slowly to the head of Lando's erection between his lip, the gentle pressure of Oscar’s mouth was met with a deep, approving sigh from Lando.

As Oscar continued, his confidence grew with every positive reaction from Lando. He varied his technique, experimenting with different pressures and movements. “You’re doing so well,” Lando murmured, his voice thick with appreciation. “Just like that… so good…”

Oscar’s nerves began to melt away under the weight of Lando’s praise. He took in every word, using it to guide his actions. Lando’s breath became ragged, his hands gripping Oscar’s shoulders gently but firmly as he guided him through the rhythm.

“Try using your tongue more,” Lando suggested, his voice strained with pleasure. “Circle it slowly, and then flick it lightly. I'll love how that feels” He demonstrated with his own movements, showing Oscar how to add variety and depth to the experience.

Oscar followed Lando’s instructions with dedication, his tongue tracing delicate patterns that elicited more shivers and moans. Each new technique he tried was met with further encouragement from Lando. “That’s perfect,” Lando gasped, his voice breaking slightly. “Just like that… keep going…”

The intensity of the moment built gradually, with Lando’s reactions guiding Oscar’s pace. The pleasure between them was palpable, a growing heat that enveloped them both. Oscar’s arousal grew alongside Lando’s, each stroke and touch fueling his desire to give Lando the best experience possible.

At one point, Oscar pulled back slightly, his breath warm against Lando’s skin. “You taste incredible,” he said, his voice hushed with awe and desire. The admission was honest and heartfelt.

Lando’s eyes widened in surprise, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “You can’t say things like that,” he murmured, his breath hitching with the intensity of his arousal. “Unless you want me to cum right here and now.”

Oscar’s determination only intensified with Lando’s comment. He leaned in closer, his mouth working with renewed vigor. The prospect of making Lando lose control spurred him on, his movements becoming more confident and focused.

The build-up continued, each touch and every movement Oscar made with his tongue driving Lando closer to the edge. Oscar’s dedication was unwavering, his hands and mouth working in harmony with Lando’s guidance. The room was filled with the sounds of their shared pleasure, Lando’s moans growing louder and more urgent.

As Lando neared his climax, he tried to gently pull Oscar away, his voice breathless and strained. “Osc, I’m close… You don’t have to…”

Oscar, however, was undeterred. He pressed on, his determination only growing stronger. “No, I want this,” he said, his voice filled with fervent desire. “I want you right here"

Lando, overwhelmed by the sensation and Oscar’s unwavering resolve, finally reached his peak. His body tensed and shuddered as he came, the intensity of the moment making his breath come in ragged gasps. Oscar continued to pleasure him, working Lando all the way through his orgasm.

Afterward, Oscar rose from his knees, his face flushed with both exertion and satisfaction. He captured Lando’s lips in a searing, passionate kiss, the taste of Lando mingling with his own excitement. Their kiss was a fiery connection, filled with all the love and desire that had built up between them.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other’s, both panting heavily. Lando’s eyes were filled with a mix of adoration and vulnerability. “God, I’m so in love with you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Oscar’s smile was radiant, his eyes glistening with affection. “I’m in love with you too, Lan.”

Their words hung in the air, a testament to the depth of their feelings and the intense connection they had just shared.

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

[starmapz]

shame on me || chapter ten || moving on

gojo satoru x female vessel reader

❝gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer. when you come along with power to match his own, his responsibility to the world gets the best of him and his first impression is poor to say the least. when he needs your help, by some miracle you're too kind to deny him. or maybe he's just manipulative enough to convince you. either way, you're stuck training his student, a vessel like you. what could possibly go wrong?❞

warnings || 18+ only. contains explicit content. enemies to lovers. extreme angst. graphic descriptions of injury and death. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. fluff. major character death. anxiety. panic attacks. extreme slow burn. eventual smut. p in v. oral (f! and m! receiving). praise. overstimulation. unprotected. fingering. mating press. slight nanami x reader. happy ending!

additional tags || gojo is a dumbass but very lovable. very very very minor love triangle, will not be a main theme. no competing. takes place after season 2. au where gojo is not sealed and the shibuya incident does not go down the same. nanami is alive. choso is around. no major manga spoilers but will contain themes and ideas touched on later.

wc || 6k.

edited but not beta-read.

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

The smell of lavender wafts in the air as blossoms dance in the cool breeze at your feet. Clouds cover the sun and threaten rain, although the forecast didn’t call for it, so you had decided to water your plants regardless. 

Off to the side, Gojo lays in the grass, the top button of his uniform unbuttoned with a white T-shirt visible beneath, his blindfold laying at his shoulders. His arm is draped over his eyes in place of the fabric, only moving when Taro returns the ball he’d been throwing.

Your lesson with Itadori had been cut short when a mission had called for him and Kusakabe. In reality, you knew Kusakabe simply didn’t want to partake in the mission and had called for Yuji, but regardless it would help your student learn. Besides, Kusakabe was responsible one way or the other.

Taro barrels past both you and Satoru in a flurry, dropping his ball at Gojo’s side before taking a wide turn to chase after the ball again. Following his movement past you, your gaze travels to the cabin that had been your home so long.

You’re sure the entire place is covered in a layer of dust, a thought that leaves a pang in your stomach and you wince at the realization. For a while now, you’d been wanting to grab some of the dresses left behind in the cabin given that your arrangement with Gojo seemed at least somewhat permanent, but no matter how often the thought arose, you always convinced yourself otherwise.

“You’re gonna drown your Carnations.” Satoru sits upright, leaning back on his outstretched arm with his hand splayed in the grass. Strands of snow-white hair sway in the gentle breeze as he twists to look at the flowers at your feet.

You turn your attention to the watering can in your hand, blinking and tipping it back as you realize he’s right, you’ve been watering them the whole time you were lost in thought. It certainly wouldn’t help the flowers in any way but you supposed at least it wouldn’t kill them. Sighing, you run a hand through your hair, pushing it out of your face.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, Pretty?”

Your heart does a backflip that you choose to push aside as you set the watering can at your feet. Satoru’s intense stare is set on you as he watches you grimace and take a step back away from the garden.

“Would you mind doing me a favor?”

“Need some muscle?” He asks with a cocky grin, not missing a beat.

“No, Satoru,” you roll your eyes at his suggestion, shooting a glance at your old cabin. “I just wanna grab a few things from my cabin, I was hoping you could keep me company.”

“‘Course.”

You almost hate how quickly he agrees and hops to his feet without a second thought or a moment’s hesitation. You’re certain you could ask for the moon and he would move mountains to bring it to you. It’s an uneasy thought that you’re not only growing accustomed to his presence, but more than ever you’d begun to seek his presence.

He’d become your rock. It was hard to deny it anymore. He didn’t dare leave your side and even Yaga had agreed it was the best course of action to keep him near you if it meant preventing another incident.

Still, you wondered if the reason he was always nearby was truly out of a duty to keep you and Yuji safe, or if he just wanted to be with you in truth. In reality, it was most likely the latter.

Even Miriko had grown accustomed to him. Every once in a while Satoru would wake up to Miriko sitting enjoying a coffee and he didn’t seem to think twice about it, not minding her presence either.

They’d even had a strange heart to heart where Satoru had apologized. Her admission that she didn’t mind him had felt more like a parent’s approval of a boy you brought him, though the parent and the relationship lacked from the situation. Either way, it made you want to bury your face in a pillow in embarrassment, despite being stuck in her innate domain. The best you could find was a ripped and rugged sail.

Looking at the big picture though, things had become easy with him. It was easy to slip into conversation with him, easy to sit with him on the couch as he explained his favorite reality show, easy to talk about the cheesy romance book you were reading. It all felt natural.

Satoru hops to his feet, grabbing the cabin key for you since he’d taken it a while ago in order to gather some of your belongings. When he returns, his tall stature towers over you at the base of the stairs to your old cabin, invading your personal space as he always does with a grin and the key dangling from his forefinger.

You reach up to take it, shooting him a disgruntled glare as he holds it juuuust out of reach.

“Nuh uh, whaddya say?”

“Thank you for bringing me the key you stole?”

His smile falters, brow scrunching in mock frustration. “Well when you put it like that it doesn’t sound as good,” he grumbles playfully, his hand falling just low enough for you to jump and pull the key away from him.

You playfully shove his chest and hop up the stairs to the door.

The sight of the inside of the cabin catches you oddly off-guard and you pause in the door. Satoru collides with you, bringing both hands up to rest on either of your upper arms and hold you both upright. He mumbles a ‘sorry’, letting you take in the sight before you.

The cabin is, indeed, covered in a layer of dust. The overcast sun of the afternoon filtering through the window casts enough light to see the dust that hangs in the air, all signs of life dissipated from the cabin. Unwashed mugs still sit in the sink, a blanket is casually laying over the back of the couch, a fork and plate sit on the table, and some of Taro’s toys still litter the floor.

Satoru’s thumbs rub soothing circles on both of your arms as he takes a step forward with you, his warmth remaining a close and comforting presence. Swallowing your nerves, you let out a breath and lead the way upstairs to the bedroom where your clothes are.

The sheets are still thrown aside as if someone had just woken up and photo frames still line the walls. A small photo frame holding a photo of you and your dad, as well as one of Taro sopping wet from diving headfirst into the ocean hang neatly on the wall. Kento’s charge cable lays expectantly on the bedside table alongside an old tie, twisting into your gut like a knife.

But you don’t cry. For the first time, you take a deep breath and soldier your way into the room, opening the closet and sifting through for the summer clothing you’re looking for. Satoru holds his hands out expectantly, letting you throw anything you want to bring into his arms. Your hands pause on a perfectly pleated tan suit, pulling your lower lip between your teeth at the sight.

But still you don’t let yourself cry.

A reassuring hand squeezes your arm and reminds you that you have support. You’re not alone anymore.

So you turn to Satoru and nod to him to lead the way back out the door, stopping to grab the photo frames of your dad and Taro on the way out.

“Thanks, Satoru.” You lock the door behind you, swallowing an uncomfortable bile that had risen in your throat as you lock away a part of your past. Securely in the past, but never forgotten, never really gone. Always in your heart, even if you are trying to make room for new memories. New people.

Gojo shoots you a handsome smile, those cheerful blue eyes flickering shut for a moment as the corners of his eyes wrinkle. 

“Is that your dad?” He asks curiously, peering at the photo frame in your arms. It pulls you from thoughts threatening to spiral and you hold the photo out to him, nodding.

You’re considerably younger in the photo, wearing a jersey from your dad’s favorite team at a game. It’s before you ever met Miriko, when times were simpler.

“The one and only,” you confirm.

“He was nice when I talked to him,” he mentions, catching you off-guard as you remember that Satoru had at some point answered your phone when your dad’s calls became more and more frantic.

“Oh right, how did that go?” You ask curiously.

“He was pretty worried obviously, but he said he was happy someone was taking care of you. He seemed nice.”

“Awh, that’s-”

“At least, after he yelled at me.”

You pause, blinking at Gojo. “He what?”

He shrugs with an immature tilted smile, as though being yelled at by your father had had somewhat of an effect on him. “I took responsibility for what happened. He wasn’t happy about that but who can blame ‘im?”

You smile sheepishly. “Sorry about that,” you chuckle sheepishly.

“Nah, he was just worried.” He shrugs it off easily, following you into the cabin and to the guest room. Your room. He hands you the dresses in his arms one by one, commenting on each and every one about how pretty they are despite your obvious dismissal of his comments.

As he hands you a small black dress, his lips quirk upwards. “You should wear this one.”

“Not happening,” you mumble shyly, trying hard to ignore the heat in your cheeks as you choose not to humor him.

“You’d look stunning,” he grins with lidded eyes as he leans into your personal space. You’re accustomed to this too of course, but still your breath hitches in your throat at his close proximity. “Not that you don’t look stunning already,” he corrects suddenly, blue eyes widening with a moment of boyish innocence.

Though he liked to be a flirt and be a menace, sometimes it was easy to forget that he wasn’t as sly as he thought he was. You smirk at him, unable to deny that it was in those little moments where his confident facade broke for a more sweet one that you were charmed by him.

“Cute,” you mumble, returning to hanging the last of the dresses in your arms. Gojo’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree as he grins at you, hanging the last dress for you once you had freed him of his dress holding duty.

“I know I said it already but…” you pause, looking up at the tall sorcerer. It’s not often you get to see those gorgeous blue eyes in full, not covered by either fabric or glasses, but you’re glad you get to see them as he stares happily down at you. It’s such a stark contrast from the way he cautiously regarded you for so long and it’s so refreshing to see him so filled with hope and… affection. Like the carnation he had left for you. “Thank you, Satoru. Really.”

It feels natural, when you choose to wrap your arms around his middle. He seems surprised for a moment, his body shifting to look down at your small form wrapped tightly around his frame, but it only takes a second for him to tightly wrap his around you in return.

When Satoru hugs you, it feels like he expects the world to end. Like if this is his final moment with you, he’s going to savor it. His arms are wrapped tightly around you, fingers gripping at your bare shoulders for purchase. His warm breath fans over your head as he buries his face into your hair, the feeling of his light, nearly unnoticeable stubble lightly tickling your scalp.

His hand slides up your arm, holding your head tightly into his chest. His heart beats hard against his chest, giving away the nerves that he didn’t often let show. It’s easy to forget that Satoru can be vulnerable too.

He doesn’t let you pull away, like his life depends on holding you. Like this moment is everything to him. Because it is. His heart pounding in your ear is all the proof you need, and it sends yours spiraling as well.

“Satoru?” You try to glance up at him by tilting your head to the side, but all you can make out is his shoulder and the mop of white hair.

He gives you one last tight squeeze before hesitantly letting you go, eyes still shining brightly, though this time he looks strangely relaxed.

Shooting him a lopsided smile, you continue. “I thought that would be a lot harder, honestly. With you there, it wasn’t so bad.”

If that boy had a tail to wag, it would be swinging. He grins so widely you almost don’t recognize him. Shoko’s comment about him looking like a puppy around you is beginning to make more and more sense the more you truly notice this side of him. It’s refreshing to see him be genuine and vulnerable with you.

“I’ll always be here for you, Pretty.” And god, his voice is so genuine, you almost want to-

If I didn’t know any better, I would assume you’re falling for Six Eyes, of all people.

Your eyes widen suddenly at Miriko’s comment and in a rush to disprove her, or maybe convince yourself it isn’t true, your hands settle on his chest and you all but shove him out of the room, surprising you both.

“Sorry, um, thank you!” You tell him in a rush that has him clearly confused as he stands outside the door, unable to do anything but watch as you shut the door in his face.

“Did I-?”

You open the door again, a tinge of guilt heating up your cheeks at the sudden action.

“Just gonna change, it’s fine!” You insist, words spilling over your lips as you close and lock the door again, staring at the handle and leaving him shocked and confused.

Sliding your back down the door and sitting with your hands covering your face, you all but groan as Miriko laughs in your mind. If even Miriko’s getting a rise out of this, you know you’re in deeper than you thought.

My, I would almost think I hit the nail on the head, did I not?

Shut. Up.

–

Saturday mornings had become your favorites. You would sleep in until the sound of dawn cicadas and birdsong awoke you and without fail, the smell of bacon would follow soon after. Satoru would make you breakfast- he’d even perfected your eggs- and you would make him coffee, exactly to his taste with a few too many scoops of sugar.

He loved those mornings just as much as you did and he was sure to tell you that, chatting with you throughout the mornings as you took to listening to stories. Stories about missions, about his students, once in a while he might even open up about Suguru. Those fleeting moments of vulnerability further endeared you to him, little to his knowledge.

It was cozy.

This morning, the scent of fresh bacon and light sizzling from outside your room is missing and you frown. Your eyes flicker open and you rub the remnants of sleep from your eyes with a slow yawn. 

You don’t bother to change out of the oversized shirt you’d worn to bed, throwing on shorts before peeking out of the room and searching for Satoru. The kitchen is empty and there’s no sign of him in the house, either. Closing your eyes, you don’t even sense his cursed energy nearby.

You know he’s likely out on a mission or something of the sort, but you can’t help the way your chest flutters as you hope that he’s okay. Especially given that he’d insisted on not taking missions since Kenjaku’s appearance.

Going to grab your phone, you shoot him a text. The first one you’ve ever sent that isn’t in regards to business or groceries.

10:04 AM || You: hey, everything alright?

After hitting backspace an indescribable amount of times, you hit send and decide you’ll make your own breakfast. Throwing together bacon, eggs, and toast, you make yourself and Satoru a plate.

Surely he’ll be back in time for some food, after all. 

As lunch arrives with an untouched plate of bacon and eggs still sitting on the table, your worry grows tenfold. Grimacing, you open your phone and to the text that stares back at you mockingly. Surely he isn’t upset with you over shoving him out of the room yesterday, right?

No, he doesn’t hold a grudge like that. Not over something so inconsequential. That’s not Gojo.

Your thumbs move to type again, hitting send before you have the chance to meander over the specifics of the message.

1:31 PM || You: satoru? please let me know if you’re alright

With a forlorn sigh, you set your phone down and open your book back up, trying to focus on the words. Try as you may, focus eludes you as you re-read a paragraph for the dozenth time. With a finger to your temple in exasperation, you toss the book in front of you, staring at the clock. Two in the afternoon and not a word from Satoru?

Picking up your phone again, you dial his number, but it doesn’t even ring. Is his phone dead? You have half a mind to go looking for him, but then again he is an adult. He can take care of himself.

As the afternoon sun moves gradually to set, warm rays of light drifting across the surface of the coffee table before you, you wonder if it’s worth it to make him a plate for dinner. He had to be home for dinner, right?

4:32 PM || You: i’m making dinner, i’ll leave a plate for you

You pause, hesitating over the send button as you send one last message.

4:34 PM || You: please be okay.

Homemade Yakisoba in-hand, you struggle to eat your meal as worry twists your stomach. It eats every last ounce of hunger until you’re just about ready to grab Yuta and Yuji and find him yourself.

Of course, that’s when the front door lock clicks and you suddenly sense him. His overwhelming cursed energy and that bubbly presence, as he kicks the door open with a slam. You jump, eyes wide at the bags in his arms.

“You would not believe the amount of trouble I went through today-”

“Where have you been?”

“Hm?” Satoru pauses, setting both bags on the kitchen table as he spins to face you. “I was grabbing some things.”

“I texted you.”

“You did?”

“A few times.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket, fiddling with the side button and realizing sure enough, his phone is dead. He shrugs it off, turning back to his bags excitedly as he continues his ramblings about how ‘he looked everywhere’ and ‘it was so hard to find’, though he doesn’t specify what he’s going on about, nor is that where your focus is as you practically look over him for signs of wounds or wear.

“I was worried about you.” You interrupt him suddenly, standing in front of the couch still as you stare at him in the kitchen. His brow knits in confusion beneath the fabric of his blindfold as he turns to face you again.

His shoulders fall back to a relaxed position as he sees the concern etched into your features and in two long strides he’s standing before you, leaning down just a bit to be at eye level. “‘M sorry,” he apologizes genuinely. “I shoulda charged my phone.”

“No kidding,” you grumble, though in truth you’d already forgiven him. Pulling an apology from him is about as easy as pulling teeth so to receive one so easily, it’s hard to stay mad. He cheekily reaches down to grab your hand, gauging your reaction as he brings it up to his lips, leaving a charming peck on your knuckles.

“Forgive me, Sweetheart?”

As though he didn’t just light your entire body on fire with one action, one name, you nod shyly, losing any and all words.

“Good, now come see what I got,” he tells you excitedly, looping his fingers with yours as he tugs you along to the kitchen table where one small plastic bag and a larger paper bag reside.

The paper bag has a very familiar logo on it and you don’t need to look inside to know Satoru’s grabbed Kikufuku. The plastic bag, on the other hand, is small and nondescript.

“I didn’t think I’d be gone so long but I couldn’t find it anywhere,” he insists, pulling something out of the bag and spinning towards you with it behind his back before you have a chance to see what it is.

Tilting your head curiously, you attempt to peek around him, but he blocks your vision.

“Would you believe that this shit is rare now? I actually had to leave town and go to some little store in the middle of nowhere to find it, and after-”

“What is it?” You interrupt his ramblings.

He grins, presenting to you none other than Digimon Rumble Arena 2 on GameCube. Unable to help it, you giggle, which easily turns into a full-blown laugh.

What a lovesick idiot.

“You asshole, I spent all day thinking you were hurt or missing or worse and you were just- just looking for Digimon?” You giggle gleefully as you shove his chest. He grins down at you, insisting that you hold the copy of the game.

As soon as the copy is in your hands, he sheds his jacket and hops over the couch, legs spread as he lounges comfortably on the side you’d come to know as his.

“C’mon, this asshole wants to play Digimon. And he already apologized,” he derides with a sly smile, enunciating his words in jest.

“Hold on, hold on,” you insist, grabbing the extra plate of Yakisoba that you’d made, as well as your own that you’d barely touched. He thanks you, happily eating as you open the cabinet beneath the TV, pulling out an Indigo Gamecube and plugging in a matching controller and an orange one.

You hand him the orange one, player two of course, and join him on the couch.

The game comes back to you naturally and much to Satoru’s dismay, you destroy him. Every. Single. Round. Still, he’s trying his best.

“I swear I’m good at games,” he insists.

“You chose the wrong one if you were trying to impress me,” you tease as your Gabumon digivolves and knocks his Flamedramon flat on the ground.

His head hangs back as he lets out an exasperated groan at his fourth loss in a row. First, he’d insisted he was just rusty, then the stage was the problem, then the Digimon. He was running out of excuses.

“I almost had you that time!”

“Sure,” you shrug, holding in a laugh.

“No, seriously! You were so low!”

“Mhmm.”

“One more, this time I’ll win,” he insists, sitting upright as he leans forward and removes his blindfold.

“I don’t think your Six Eyes is gonna help you.”

“You don’t know.”

You raise an eyebrow at him as you hit the rematch button and it drops you back into an arena, but not only is Satoru serious about winning this time, he’s equally serious about cheating to win.

As soon as you knock him down the first time, he prods your side.

“Cheater!” You cry out in shock as he manages to land a hit on your Gabumon. You shoot him a disgruntled look and nudge his knee. He snickers happily as he continues to fight dirty, taking any opportunity to poke and prod your thighs and sides playfully.

Still, it’s not enough for him to win.

“Looks like you’re still the loser-”

Pushing off the couch before you have time to finish your sentence, Satoru leaps on top of you, using his strong arms to pin you down against the soft cushions as he moves his fingers along your sides, tickling you without relent.

“No!” You cry out, unable to help laughing as you squirm and push against him.

“Take it back! I’m not a loser!” He insists, not letting up.

“No! You cheated!” You gasp through ragged laughs as you try to grab his wrists and push him back, but his grasp on you is too strong.

“Say it! Say it and I’ll stop!” He teases with a devilish grin.

“Please!” You beg, not letting up as you playfully struggle against him. “Toru!”

That stops him dead in his tracks as those wondrous blue eyes lock onto your red ones that flutter open behind long lashes. He purses his lips, his white hair hanging down and just barely tickling your forehead from his close proximity.

With his knees and arms on either side of you, you’re in a painfully compromising position that sends a jolt of electricity up your spine, lighting your entire body on fire at the realization.

“You’ve never called me that before,” his voice is strangely husky, and you swallow as heat pools at the base of your stomach.

“Do you not like it?” You breathe, settling your hands on his biceps. You run your fingers mindlessly over the muscles, biting your lip as your eyes stray to his toned arms before flickering back to his intense gaze.

“I like it,” he says quietly, his breaths coming short and fast as his eyes follow your movements. He swallows hard, watching the way you bite your lip. A muscle in his jaw spasms as he hovers over you, the intensity shared between you both immense.

It’s as though time has stopped and only you both exist in this moment. Through all your doubts, all the time he’s been patient with you and given you the time and space you needed, you couldn’t deny the pull he had on you any longer.

Still, even as the world stands still for you both, as the evening cicadas hold their breath and the last remnants of the setting sun illuminate his long white lashes in the most beautiful and brilliant way, he waits for you. He doesn’t dare move, doesn’t make the move that he so desires, betrayed by his immense pupils.

The ball was in your court.

Nothing but adoration and anticipation glimmering in his features.

Adoration shown in the way he spent all day looking for a particular gift for you, just to see you smile even if only for a moment because he craved your smile like a drug, like an addiction.

Adoration in the way he teases you because he loves the way you can match his backtalk.

Anticipation that makes your toes curl as his sharp and handsome features stare back at you with an equal anticipation.

“Kiss me, Toru,” you whisper, letting go of all of your doubts and inhibitions, of everything holding you back. Giving in to him finally.

“Thought you’d never ask, pretty girl,” he breathes, moving down to his elbows as his lips softly meet yours. His touch grazes the side of your face as you fasten your grip on his biceps, feeling them flex beneath the pads of your fingers.

In contrast to the feverous anticipation in his eyes, his lips move slowly against yours, soft and sweet. The candied taste of his tongue ignites and sparks an eagerness in your chest and you slide your hands up his arms, cradling his cheeks as you bring him closer in an effort to quell the blooming heat in your chest.

Satoru takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue swiping along the bottom of your lip for permission. You part your lips, your tongues fighting for purchase as he puts every ounce of passion into the moment.

When you part to take a breath, both of your chests heaving, his eyes slowly flicker open to meet yours. They may as well be glowing in the way he regards you with such care and ardor.

You can’t help but smile, giggle even, both because his snowy locks are tickling your forehead, and because it feels good to be cared for by him, and it feels good to care for him. You’d both been doing it for so long at this point that it almost felt foolish how long you’d held back.

“D’you still think I’m a loser?” He teases breathlessly.

“Shut up,” you groan, pulling him back to you. One of his arms moves from its position holding him above you as he glides his fingers down your side until they find purchase at your waist. He kisses you so tenderly, so delicate like the flower he’d been taking care of to the best of his ability still sitting beautifully atop the kitchen table.

When he pulls back, he’s got a wide grin and expectant eyes.

“Let me take you out.”

“Shouldn’t we stay near Yuji to keep an eye on Sukuna?”

“One day won’t hurt him. Let me take you out tomorrow.”

You chew on your lip in thought, threatening to get lost in the galaxies that are his eyes. They flicker to the movement of your lip as it slips between your teeth, his pupils dilating at the sight.

“What did you have in mind Mr. Gojo?” You prod, watching the way his eyes darken without fail at the name you used for him, practically melting against you like honey. He shuffles his hips in an effort to get more comfortable as his cock twitches in his slacks, a movement he knows you can feel and he knows you’re goading on.

He’s trying to be more romantic than that, though.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He purrs into your ear, peppering kisses from just below your earlobe down your jaw, before returning to your lips. In spite of the hunger growing between both of you, the kiss is honey sweet, and he lets out a relaxed sigh that you swallow between your lips.

“Nothing-” you pause as a peck from the tall man interrupts your statement, “-too fancy, okay?”

He nods solemnly, a note of earnestness in his features as if taking your words to heart. “Promise.”

“And nothing too busy, I don’t like crowds.”

“I know, Sweets.”

“Oh, and nothing claustrophobic, makes me nervous with Miriko.”

He says your name in a chiding tone that tells you that he knows that already. Regardless, you smile calmly at him.

He leans in for one last peck before sitting up and adjusting his slacks in an effort to make his very obvious boner less uncomfortable. His kiss-swollen lips smile happily at you as he drapes his arm over the back of the couch behind your shoulders with a calm breath out from his nose.

“I think you might be the better Digimon.”

“I have the power of Gabumon,” you tell him as you flatten your hair from the way it’s knotted and sticking out after laying under him.

“To think that you called me a nerd,” he comically rolls his eyes as you give his chest a light shove. He kisses your temple oh so softly.

The words to tease him back die on your tongue as you admire his profile, his sharp features trained on the looping character select screen. He looks tired, as he always does though he hides it well, but peace settles comfortably over not just his facial features, but his muscles.

You smile at the sight, wondering what weight he carries with him that he chooses not to confide in anyone, what it truly means to be the strongest.

After all, you’ve seen the way he’s treated by others. You’ve seen the way that not only he, but Yuji and Yuta as well, are expected to act by the higher-ups and even Yaga. You’ve seen the way he’s treated as inhuman at times by others.

Hell, you’d seen the way he’d acted inhuman. Not even just in battle, but the way he would stand stoic and take your verbal berating without a single reaction and not bat an eye at the interaction, simply because that was how he was meant to act. It was almost as though it was a trained reaction.

He had trained himself to be what he was expected to be.

It was sad, really. To think that the goofy, caring, and even charming individual who sat with his eyes closed in bliss to your side had had everything taken from him on account of being the strongest.

And just like that, everything clicks. As if you’re seeing Satoru, really seeing Satoru, for the first time. Everything he’d acted on that had led you here, to this moment, all makes sense.

Would he have been so aggressive upon first meeting you if he hadn’t been told to act in such a way? If he hadn’t, would you be here, now, sitting at his side?

Leaning into him, you watch his peaceful expression quirk into a smile as he pulls you into his chest, enveloping you into a hug. You hum contentedly, closing your eyes as you rest your head on his shoulder.

The soft light of the sun has long faded, leaving you both basking in one another’s presence. The interruption of the looping song on the TV has long been tuned out as your hearts seem to beat in sync. Slowly but surely, it seems he’s filling holes in your heart and healing wounds on his own accord.

You could have cuddled that way for five minutes or five hours, you wouldn’t have any way of knowing, time a concern of the past. As Satoru’s breathing steadies, the rise and fall of his chest growing rhythmic, you giggle to yourself and give him a small shake.

“Toru, you should get some rest.”

“I am,” he retorts cheekily, not bothering to open his eyes.

“You better not fall asleep on our date tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” he insists, “but let me have this for one more moment.”

Your chest flutters at his insistence to keep you in his arms as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

One moment really is never just one moment with him, though.

When his breathing grows rhythmic again and small snores part his lips, you giggle and move from his side without disturbing him. You move around the kitchen and living room, cleaning up from your afternoon of games and fooling around.

You lift the case for the Digimon game, your thumb smoothing over the front cover.

What a wonder, to think that Satoru Gojo had spent all day looking for this for you. You couldn’t even be upset about his lack of communication when it was clear that in his foolish mission to find the game, it had simply slipped his mind.

To think that this was the same man who you’d struggled to get along with for so long, who seemed to oppose you at every turn, and now you were practically fawning over him. You smile to yourself with a shake of your head. How the times had changed over the past two months.

Satoru shuffles, cerulean irises focusing on you as he realizes you’ve left his arms. An easy smile spreads over his drowsy features.

“Ready to get some rest now?” You ask him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He pushes himself to his feet, offering you his hand as he pulls you up off the floor from where you’d been putting the Gamecube away. Effortlessly pulling you up to him, he squeezes your hand and leads you to your door.

"G’night, sweet girl,” Satoru all but slurs languidly as he tries not to yawn.

“Goodnight, Satoru.”

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

a/n || a bit of a shorter chapter since the next one will be the big date but when I tried to put them all into one it was a bit of a mega chapter so i hope everyone enjoyed this sweet little moment with toru ♡

[mint-yooxgi]

{26} - Hotel California - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Based off of This ask and Hotel California by Eagles

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humor

Pairing: Ateez X Reader

Words: 7,671

Warnings: The later half still needs to be edited, sorry! Bit of angst to start. Mental Illness: Anxiety, Depression, PTSD. Suggestive content. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Surprise! A bit of an early update for you all since I do want to split this final part into two chapters. I’m sure you can all probably guess what’s going to happen next after reading this one, but I figured I'll end the first book off on a lighter note before starting the next book in the series! I really hope you still enjoy this part, I think it’s fun! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Main Story - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - Part Sixteen - Part Seventeen - Part Eighteen - Part Nineteen - Part Twenty - Part Twenty-One - Part Twenty-Two - Twenty-Three - Twenty-Four - Twenty-Five - Mini Masterlist

There’s a voice. No, multiple voices calling out to you through the fog. You can hear them, just above the noise in your head. The more you focus, the more you realize that there are two distinct calls of your name. They sound almost frantic, pleading with you to wake up. 

Wake up! 

Just wake up!

A shuddering gasp escapes your lips as you sit upright in bed. Your chest heaves, feeling fresh tears lingering on the skin of your cheeks as you bring your hands up to rub at your eyes.

Softly, you can feel two hands caressing your back. One strokes over your upper spine while the other rests much lower, thumb stroking tenderly against your skin.

“Shhh, Darling, it’s okay,” Jongho’s soothing voice reaches your ears. Nothing but worry is reflected on his features as he shares a glance with the other male to your right.

“We’re right here, Dearest,” Yeosang whispers, noticing how with each breath you take you seem to be calming down, even if only the slightest. “She can’t hurt you anymore.”

The sound of your bedroom door flinging open causes you to jolt lightly in their arms, all three of your gazes being drawn to the now open doorway to see both Mingi and Yunho hastily entering the room. Seonghwa follows close behind, San a mere step behind him as worry pulls at all of their features.

Before any of them can ask what happened, you’re speaking. “Bad dream.”

For the past four days, you’ve been tormented by night terrors. Visions of what happened to you swim through your mind, and usually, any one of them are able to shift your thoughts onto something more peaceful in order to let you rest. Only this time, they couldn’t.

No matter how hard Yeosang and Jongho tried, they couldn’t reach your mind. All they could do was watch as your dream tormented you with your past memories of Miyeon torturing you in that damn chair. Except, whenever the eight of them were supposed to show up in your dream, they never did.

Shifting slightly on the bed, Jongho pulls you into his lap. Gently, he cradles you in his arms as Yunho comes to sit on the edge. Carefully, the elder of the two places a hand onto the side of your face, nothing but concern tugging at his brow.

The arms you have wrapped around Jongho squeeze him tighter, eyes falling shut as fresh tears cling to your lashes.

“Every time-“ you begin, voice small and barely above a whisper as you swallow the dryness clinging to your throat. “Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is her.”

“Baby,” San immediately sits on the end of your bed with Mingi right beside him as Seonghwa moves closer to you.

“It’s like she’s living inside my head, and I don’t know how to get her out,” your whole body begins to tremble lightly as a tear slowly begins to make its way down the side of your cheek. “And I know I’m safe now. I know you’re all here with me, and will do everything in your power to protect me, but trying to reason with myself just isn’t working. The harder I try to rationalize with these thoughts, the worse it gets, and I just-“ you turn your head away from Yunho, burying your face into the side of Jongho’s neck as you hold him tighter. “I don’t know what to do.”

No longer can you hold back the desperate sobs that wrack your entire body. You feel completely and utterly devastated inside, every single event of the past week catching up to you. Your mind is a wreck, and you physically don’t feel any better, either. Yes, they’ve been there with you every step of the way, but even with their constant reassurance and support, you still feel lost.

How one woman could so easily come in and tear down every single wall you had built around yourself for protection only adds to the emptiness you now feel. Despite their protection, the worst part for you is that you now feel as if you cannot protect yourself, which is far worse than anything else.

You hate feeling powerless. You hate letting people have control over you.

Jongho’s arms are wrapped tightly around your figure, keeping you pressed against his chest as you continue to sob into his neck. Softly, he coos sweet, comforting words into your ears, both Yeosang and Yunho brushing over your back lightly with their hands.

The six of them share a look. A look full of worry, but also, silent understanding.

“Petal,” Yunho’s soft tone draws your attention to him once your sobs have quieted down for a brief moment. “Do you-“ he clears his throat as he meets your tear filled gaze, “do you want one of us to take the pain away?”

It’s slight, but your whole body tenses within Jongho’s hold.

Seonghwa sits on the edge of the bed, right beside Yunho. His gaze reflects nothing but concern as he looks at you softly.

“We can numb the memories so they’re not as difficult for you to remember,” he says gently. “If you’d rather forget them, we can do that, too.”

“We just don’t want you to suffer because of her anymore,” San adds, keeping his voice low as he watches you being held in his brother’s arms.

“I won’t lie, I have thought about it before.” You avert your gaze almost shamefully, voice barely above a whisper. “To have one of you sever the emotions I feel whenever I even so much as think about what happened to me.”

“But you haven’t.” Yeosang observes, hand continuing to stroke lightly over your back.

You turn your head to meet his gaze. “I can’t.”

You can see the question forming on his lips, and you’re sure the other five are all thinking the exact same things. So, before they can ask, you’re speaking once more.

“As much as I want to, I cannot ignore my own trauma,” you say. “If I ever-“ you let out a long exhale through your nose, “if I even want to begin to process it, I have to acknowledge it. Having one of you make me forget, or simply becoming numb to the emotions feels like I’m taking an easy way out. It’s not fair to myself, or you. I don’t expect you all to take away all of my bad memories as soon as they happen. I can’t, and I won’t.”

“Alright, Starlight,” Mingi nods subtly. “As long as that is what you want. We just thought we’d offer.”

Your eyes flutter closed as a sense of calm begins to wash over you seeing as you’ve managed to calm down for the moment. Slowly, you curl yourself closer into Jongho, letting out a small hum in acknowledgement. “I appreciate that, Min. I appreciate all of you.”

The hold Jongho has around your body tightens ever so slightly.

“What can we do, then, Darling?” He whispers lowly into your ear, chin resting lightly on your shoulder. “What can we do to help make it better?”

You’re quiet for a moment as you ponder over his question.

“I-“ you sigh, eyes falling to the pillows on the bed behind him. “I don’t know."

A brief pause.

“Let me think about it, okay?” Your soft voice fills the room once more just as both Wooyoung and Hongjoong appear. The two males had been out scouting for Dimitri and Malik for the evening, only to sadly find nothing of either of them. “I’ll probably have some better ideas in the morning, but for now, I just really want to sleep.”

“Alright, Darling,” slowly, Jongho begins to lay you back down beside him on the bed.

Immediately, Yeosang is wrapping himself around your back, pulling your body into his arms so that you’re pressed right up against his chest. Much to Jongho’s annoyance.

“I don’t-“ you close your eyes, curling into the two males on either side of you. “I don’t want to have another nightmare.”

“Would you like one of us to-“

“Yes,” you cut Hongjoong off before he can even finish his question, “please.”

The eight males all share a look, silently debating on who will be the one to give you pleasant dreams for the rest of the night, watching over your mind the whole time.

“Sannie,” your voice calling his name draws all of their attention.

“Yes, Baby?” Immediately, his eyes are locked on your figure, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice for anything and everything you might need.

“Don’t make me chase you out with a bat this time.” 

You feel Jongho chuckle slightly against you, his chest shaking as he recalls the way you made him summon you a bat to ‘bash San’s kneecaps in’ with the one time he tried to invade your dreams. Looks like his brother is getting a chance to finally redeem himself.

“I promise you won’t have to this time, Baby,” he chuckles lowly, already focussing on protecting your mind and filling it with the sweetest images for you to fall asleep to this evening.

“Good,” you hum, eyelids already drooping as a wave of tiredness washes over you. “I trust you.”

Almost as soon as those words leave your lips, you’re out like a light. Your chest rises and falls evenly, breaths coming steadily with each inhale you make.

For once, your mind is silent, filled with nothing but soft images of your favourite animals surrounding you and making you feel safe. Softly, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips, and for the first time in days, you finally manage to sleep through the night.

Morning comes, and you actually feel a little better than you have been lately, considering your mood over the past few days. Luckily, thanks to San, Jongho, and Yeosang, you slept much better last night, feeling more rested as you slowly wake up.

Going about your morning routine is second nature to you, not even focusing in on what exactly you’re doing. Still, you manage to take a quick shower to freshen up, getting ready for the day shortly afterwards. At least this allows you time to think.

Today is the first day in a week where you’ve decided to put your void back up, even if only for a little bit. It did keep Miyeon out for quite a while, and you could really use some privacy for your thoughts for the moment. Besides, it’ll allow you to properly think out ways that will help you without one of the guys chiming in every five minutes asking if you’re okay.

The way you can still feel one of them brushing tenderly against your void as you do this does cause a small smile to tug at your lips. At the very least, you know they care, and that they will always be here for you, in whatever ways that they can.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you notice both San and Jongho sitting on the one couch in your room. You can tell from the way that they smile at you as soon as you appear that they’ve been waiting for you this whole time.

“I brought some fruit for you, Baby,” San’s eyes never leave your figure the entire time you make your way over to them.

“Thank you, Sannie,” once you reach him, you lean in to place a tender kiss onto the side of his temple.

Reaching down, you grab the bowl of fruit from the table and sit across from them on the opposite couch. Immediately, you curl into the corner, tucking your legs into your side as you pull a pillow onto your lap.

You take a bite of fruit.

“How are you feeling this morning, Darling?” Jongho asks softly, nothing but worry shining within his eyes as he looks at you.

The corner of your lips tugs upwards slightly, a sort of sad nod to your head in acknowledgement. “Better.”

“Good,” he manages to meet your gaze as your eyes dart up to his own. “We’re glad.”

“Thank you, for last night,” you say, taking another bite of fruit before you’re shifting to look at San as well.

“Of course, Baby,” he smiles at you tenderly. “You know we’d do anything for you.”

“We want to help in whatever ways that we can.” Jongho adds, assuring you with a gentle nod of his head.

“I appreciate that more than you know,” you reply. “I just don’t want it to feel like I’m making my problems your own.”

“You know we would never think that.” Mingi’s voice coming from behind you manages to make you jump. “Sorry, Starlight.”

“I’m serious about those bells if you’re going to keep doing this to me,” you shoot him a playful look, noticing how he holds a fresh glass of water in his hand, of which he immediately passes to you.

You share a brief smile as he sits in the chair closest to you between the two couches.

“Baby,” San’s voice is drawing your attention back to him for the moment. “You know you could never burden us with your problems, right? Please don’t ever think that you are.”

You look down at your lap, pushing around the fruit in your bowl.

“We are here for you in whatever ways we can be,” Jongho reminds you. “And if it’s space you need, then we’ll do that, too.”

“Though, some of us may complain a bit more than others,” Wooyoung’s voice coming from the open doorway draws your attention.

“Yeah, and you’ll be the biggest one,” Yeosang follows right behind him, the both of them instantly making their way over to the sitting area where you are.

“I never said that I wouldn’t,” Wooyoung grins, quite literally hopping over the couch to sit beside you before Yeosang can have the chance.

The elder of the two shoots a glare at the younger, stopping only briefly to place a tender kiss onto the side of your temple before moving over to the opposite couch and sitting between San and Jongho.

“We just want you to know that you do not have to go through this alone, Dearest.” Yeosang makes sure to meet your gaze, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees so you can know just how sincere he is in his words. “You never have to go through anything alone ever again.”

“Even if you didn’t want to worry us with your problems, I don’t think we’d be able to stop ourselves,” Seonghwa appears, now sitting in the chair opposite Mingi’s at the other end of the table. “Your happiness and wellbeing are our number one priorities.”

“I’m sure you can recall Seonghwa saying that if you hurt one of us, you hurt all of us. Right, My Love?” Hongjoong’s voice coming from your left draws your attention to him next as you nod faintly. Carefully, he sits himself on the arm of the couch opposite you as he meets your gaze. “That also extends to you.”

“All you ever have to do is tell us what you need, Petal, and we will do everything in our power to provide it for you,” Yunho appears, sitting beside Wooyoung on the same couch as you.

Gently, Wooyoung reaches over and places a comforting hand onto your calf resting right beside him.

“Take as much time as you need, Angel,” he makes sure to keep his voice soft as he smiles tenderly at you. “We’ll be right here with you the whole time.”

All you can manage is a nod of your head as you feel your heart swell with fondness and love inside of your chest. Looking around at all of them, you can see the sincerity shining within their eyes. Though, that much is obvious, for you could hear it the whole time in their words. A fact which could not make you happier, or feel their support for you more than in this very moment here in time.

“We’ll get through this,” Wooyoung squeezes your calf gently. “Together.”

You smile softly, gently placing your own hand over his. “Together.”

Eight soft caresses to your mind answer you, allowing yourself to sink further into the comfort this moment brings you with them. The best part is, you believe them. You believe that you can and will get through this, one step at a time.

A brief silence settles around the nine of you as you finish off the rest of the fruit in your bowl. It’s not awkward by any means. In fact, it’s quite comfortable, and allows you time to think of how you want to word your next few ideas to all of them that you’ve been pondering over the last hour or so.

“I’m glad you’re all here with me,” a soft smile pulls on your features as you spare a glance around at all of them. 

The eight content rumbles you can hear lightly echo throughout the room only serve to warm your heart even further than it already is.

Reaching forward, you place the empty bowl onto the table, leaning back into your spot soon after.

“I’ve also done some thinking since last night, and I do have a few things to ask of all of you,” you begin, a nervous exhale escaping you as soon as the words leave your lips.

Again, Wooyoung’s hand squeezes your calf reassuringly.

“Anything, My Dear,” Yeosang breathes, leaning forward the slightest bit, just as all of his brothers do.

“I-“ the words die in your throat as you attempt to speak them out loud now. You take a deep breath in, clasping your hands together on top of the pillow still held in your lap. “As I’m sure you’ve all deduced by now, there is nothing I hate more than feeling powerless.”

You glance up from your hands to see them all watching you intently, slight nods to their heads as they wait for you to continue.

“If this is going to work out between all of us, and-“ your voice catches, and you exhale another breath through your nose, “and I am to become your Queen, then I do not want it to be a case where I am solely reliant on all of you to protect me. I want to be able to defend myself, and others, if such a situation calls for it.”

You can hear the way a few of their breaths hitch in their throats around you, but you still do not dare look up from your hands.

“I know it’s asking a lot, and I know I’m still only human, but I need to take at least some form of control back in my life.” You continue. “This is the best solution I could come up with for now. I do not want your own subjects disrespecting you by disrespecting me, or thinking that I am too weak to handle my own.”

“They would die if they so much as implied that you were,” San growls, hearing his brothers rumble out their agreement around him.

“This just adds to my point,” you briefly glance up to meet San’s gaze. “If you all act for me, then it will look like I cannot handle my own. I do not want your subjects to think I own you. We need to appear as a collective. As equals.”

“Always,” Yunho breathes.

“Without question.” Hongjoong confirms, a slight growl to his words.

“Exactly,” you slowly begin to meet their gazes, lifting your head as you begin to gain more confidence the more your speak. “Except, that might be a little difficult for some people to accept if I’m still only a weak little human who cannot defend herself.”

They all share a brief look with one another.

“We really wish you wouldn’t refer to yourself like that, Starlight,” Mingi is the one to voice all of their thoughts, causing you to turn your head to meet his gaze.

“It’s true, though,” you reply bluntly. “I’m not able to do much on my own right now, but if I knew how to defend myself, I might be able to fight back. I mean, it might not make much of a difference against your kind as I am now, but at least I could say that I tried.”

A pause.

“There are ways-“ Seonghwa clears his throat, drawing your attention to him for the moment. “There are ways for you to become like us. If you wanted.”

“You mean…?” You trail off, eyes wide.

“Yes.” Yunho confirms with a nod, clearing his throat in the next second. “We could turn you into an entity like us. A powerful one, too.”

You hesitate, looking around at all of them briefly. “How?”

“It would require you to give us a piece of your soul in exchange for a piece of ours.” Hongjoong explains, a slight tremor to his voice.

At the way you can see them all visibly shaking, realization crosses your features.

“You’ve discussed this before.” Not a question, but a statement of fact.

“Yes,” Mingi breathes, his eyes fluttering shut as he attempts to prevent them from flashing black.

“We will not lie to you, Darling,” Jongho’s voice rumbles out, slightly lower than it was mere minutes before. “It is one of our greatest desires.”

“There is no act more intimate than the merging of souls with the one you love.” Yeosang meets your gaze, and the darkness you can see swirling within his eyes has your breath hitching in your throat.

“It is the ultimate demonstration of vulnerability and trust between souls.” San’s reply is near breathless, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he looks towards you. “You would receive a piece of our life-energy, and in turn, we would receive a piece of yours.”

“But we would never force it upon you,” Wooyoung is quick to add. “Always, we want it to be your choice. Even if-“ he stops himself, diverting his gaze to the table in front of himself as his entire demeanour drops. “Even if you choose to never merge souls with any of us, and you want to remain a human until your very last breath, we would never force such a thing upon you.”

Again, you reach out and place your own hand on top of his, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“I figured there was some sort of demonic magic thingy you’d all have to at least make me immortal at some point,” you say, and you notice how they all turn to look at you with hope shining within their eyes. “I didn’t realize you’d be able to turn me into one of you.”

“Equals, remember?” Jongho grins, a tension releasing from his shoulders as you smile back.

“Believe it or not, I’ve come to terms with something like this happening a while ago,” you hum, relaxing further into the couch. “I am curious on how it would work, though. Would it have to happen all at once, or would the splitting and merging of my soul eight times simultaneously potentially kill me?”

“It could be done individually over a period of time, or all at once.” Hongjoong confirms. “It’s completely up to you and what you’re most comfortable with.”

“I’m not saying it’s going to happen any time soon,” you hold up a hand slightly in a pause motion. “I just want to understand what I’m committing to before the time comes.”

“We understand,” Yunho responds lowly. “It is a sacred ritual, and once it is done, it cannot be undone.”

You nod. “Now, when you say intimate, how intimate are we talking?”

All eight males share a look.

“What?” You quirk a brow.

“Well,” Mingi clears his throat, “it would connect us in ways we haven’t been before.”

“You’re not telling me it’s some kind of sex ritual, are you?” You deadpan.

At the way their eyebrows all raise slightly, sharing another look between all of them, you blink.

“So, you’re telling me,” you sigh, bringing a hand up to rub at the side of your face, “that in order for this ritual to take place, I either have to fuck all of you individually at separate times, or we all have, what? A giant orgy?”

Both Mingi’s and San’s faces begin to go bright red, the tips of Yeosang’s ears fairing no better. Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Seonghwa shift in his spot, crossing his legs over one another. Even Jongho cannot hide the way a blush begins to creep up his neck, Hongjoong shifting subtly on the arm of the couch.

Yunho clears his throat.

“If that’s what you wanted, Gorgeous, we’d be more than happy to oblige,” Wooyoung leans in to whisper lowly in your ear.

A shiver caresses your spine as you feel his breath tickling your neck with every low exhale, the hint of a growl lingering in each one.

Slowly, you bring a hand up, using the tip of your index finger to push his cheek away.

“Slow down there, Demon Boy. We’re not there, yet.” Your voice comes out a bit shaky, and they can tell you’re just as affected by the thought as they are for the moment. “I was just asking for curiosity’s sake.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that it’s not a definitive ‘no’,” Wooyoung grins, a twinkle shining within his dark gaze.

You spare a glance at him out of the corner of your eyes. “We’ll see.”

Eight pleased growls reach your ears.

“It’s too soon to be talking about this,” you wave a hand in front of yourself. “Anyways, is that all there is to the ritual then? Just the exchanging of pieces of our souls? No bloodletting, or anything like that?”

A snarl nearly tears itself from Hongjoong’s throat, crossing his one leg over his knee as his whole body begins to heat with the implications of your words.

“Not unless you wanted there to be.” Seonghwa breathes, hands desperately clutching at the arms of his chair for dear life.

“Would you-“ Jongho clears his throat. “Would you be okay with something like that? Just in general?”

“What? Bloodletting?” You quirk a brow, noticing how he nods, a bit eagerly, in response. You smirk. “I might be.”

Eight low growls reach your ears, yet none are as loud as the snarls that tear from Hongjoong’s, Jongho’s, Mingi’s, and Seonghwa’s throats.

“This is not the proper time to be discussing these things,” you wave your hands in front of yourself once more. “We’re getting way too off track here.”

“We’re just asking for curiosity’s sake,” Mingi hums, a hint of a growl to his words as his brow quirks slightly in amusement.

“We can discuss these topics later. At a point where I’m not teetering on the edge of mental distress every half hour,” you say.

“Of course, Dearest,” Yeosang smiles reassuringly at you from across the table. “Please, continue with what you were saying before.”

“Thank you,” you smile back, shifting your legs so that your feet now rest on the floor, much to Wooyoung’s disappointment. “As I was saying, I want you all to train me.” You cross your one leg over the other, extending your arms over the back of the couch as you lean further into the cushion behind you. “Teach me how to fight, and to properly defend myself. I am tired of being the damsel. I am done feeling like I’m powerless. I am ready to become Your Queen.”

Each male can feel the way their breath hitches in their throat at your words. The way you’re sitting, body open and commanding their attention, screams regality in every way, perfectly mirroring your words even if you don’t realize it. A fact which makes their hearts flutter within their chests.

At the way the silence stretches on between you all, you start to worry.

“Even if you don’t all agree, if at least one of you-“

“We’ll do it.” San breathes, successfully cutting you off before you can start to ramble nervously.

“We had already thought about it, anyways,” Jongho admits, a bit eagerly.

“We’re just glad we’re all on the same page,” Mingi grins, eyes crinkling at the sides as you meet his gaze.

“We’d be more than happy to teach you everything that we know, Dearest,” Yeosang draws your attention to him next, a smile on his face.

“As long as this is something you want, we are more than happy too oblige,” Yunho adds, leaning forward slightly in his seat.

“Listen, if we’re going to be spending the rest of our lives together,” you begin, noticing how eight pleased growls sound lowly around the room at your words, “then I also want to be as badass and intimidating as My Kings. None of this ‘sit pretty and let us handle it’ shit.”

“You wouldn’t sit still, anyways,” Seonghwa jokes, a teasing grin tugging at his features.

“Exactly,” you grin back, meeting his gaze. “Besides, I never expect any of you to fight my battles for me.”

“We know, Darling,” Jongho smiles assuringly at you.

“Doesn’t mean we won’t try,” San adds, knowingly.

“Oh, believe me,” you chuckle. “I know.”

Leaning into your side, Wooyoung sighs dreamily, “I can’t wait to teach you all about poisons.”

“Just picturing her holding our weapons of choice is enough for me,” Seonghwa breathes, eyes fluttering shut as he leans further back into his chair.

“You’re telling me,” Hongjoong finally speaks, nothing but a pleasant hum to his lips.

Wrapping your one arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders, your eyebrows raise in amusement. “Need I remind you all that you’ll be training me, not getting a free pass for sexy times.”

“I think you underestimate the power you have, just implying that you want to learn how to wield any one of our weapons of choice, Dearest.” Yeosang’s low tone surprises you the most, considering that you wouldn’t have expected those words to come from him.

“Yeah, any more mental fantasizing, and our youngest here may start drooling,” Mingi teases, receiving a pillow thrown at his face from said man in the next second.

“Like you’re not envisioning the same damn thing.” Jongho grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

You giggle, and the sound is like music to all of their ears.

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, yeah?” You grin. “There’s still a few things that need to happen first.” A brief pause. “Well, they don’t need to, I’d just like them to.”

“Anything.” Yunho breathes, gaze locking with yours from across the couch.

“This actually leads me to my next request, but I’d like to visit my parents. Preferably tomorrow.” You state, sparing a glance around at all of them. “I need to talk to my mom. She’s always been there for me when I’ve needed her, and it’s been months since I’ve been home. I want to take full advantage of seeing my family whenever I can, for however longer I can. They won’t be around forever.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to us, Dearest,” Yeosang smiles softly. “We understand.”

“Now that there’s one less threat to worry about, that shouldn’t be a problem,” Wooyoung curls in closer to your side, wrapping his arms around your waist as he hums contently.

“Our wards should still be in tact around your parents house, anyways.” Yunho adds.

“Did you want one of us to go with you?” Hongjoong clears his throat. “As an added protection in case something were to happen?”

You blink. “You’d actually let me go by myself?”

At the way they nod, even if somewhat hesitantly, you huff, clearly impressed.

“And here I was thinking I’d have to fight you guys on it.” You hum, amusedly.

“We never want you to feel like you cannot see your family,” Hongjoong responds. “We know how important they are to you.”

Your heart warms, and you find yourself nodding lightly along to his words.

“Well, I did want to speak with my mom privately at first,” you say. “Then, depending on how things go, I would really like to formerly introduce my parents to the people that I love.”

A collective stillness passes over the room as their eyes shine with nothing but fondness for you.

Wooyoung looks up at you, eyes shining with unshed tears. “You want us to meet your family?”

“Only if you’re all okay with that. I would never want to force you into anything you’re uncomfortable with,” you go on to say, smiling softly down at him. “I also don’t know how well they’re going to take to me being in a relationship with eight men, but I don’t want to keep this from them if I don’t have to. You all make me happy, and I know that’s all my parents have ever wanted for me. I would like for you to meet them.”

“Starlight,” Mingi’s voice trembles slightly with the weight of his emotions, a single tear trailing a path down his cheek.

“We’d be honoured.” Yunho finishes, voicing the thoughts on all of their minds as an overwhelming sense of joy and love swells within their chests.

You smile. A brilliant, shining smile that lights up the entire room as your eyes shine with excitement. “Great! I’ll call my mom later and make sure they’ll be home tomorrow. I want it to be a bit of a surprise.”

“A surprise?” Seonghwa quirks a brow.

“Ironically, Sundays are the days my family spends together. Usually, my sister and her husband come over for dinner, so my mom spends the day cooking. It’s usually a guarantee that they’ll be home, but one can never be too sure.” You shrug, subconsciously beginning to rub your thumb against Wooyoung’s shoulder, much to his content.

“Just let us know,” Seonghwa nods once in confirmation.

“Of course,” you turn your joy filled gaze towards him, and the eldest swears he can feel his heart stuttering inside his chest. “I have a plan, anyways.”

“A plan, you say?” Hongjoong quirks a brow.

“Like I said, it all depends on how things go if and when I talk with my mom tomorrow,” you reply. “I don’t think showing up with eight men right off the bat would be good for either of my parents. Let me test the waters first, and gage their reactions before all of you show up. The last thing I need is to give my parents a heart attack.”

“Alright, Starlight,” Mingi chuckles. “We’re just excited, is all.”

“Either way, we’ll make sure to be on our best behaviour,” Yunho shoots both San and Wooyoung a pointed look.

“Hey!” They both whine at the same time, causing you to chuckle.

“If anyone needs to behave themselves, it’s Handsy over there,” Wooyoung grumbles, burying himself further into your side as he shoots Seonghwa a pointed glare.

“Track record shows you’re in second place in terms of not being able to control your hands, Demon Boy,” you tease, poking his cheek lightly.

Teasingly, Wooyoung attempts to bite at your finger.

“So, really, you can’t blame us,” Seonghwa finishes with a casual shrug, only causing you to laugh once more.

“Oh, believe me, I don’t.” You grin knowingly. “If you knew half of the shit that I’ve fantasied about with all of you, I’m pretty sure my back would have been blown into next week by now.”

Eight snarls greet your ears, their eyes flashing black as their gazes fixate on you.

“Darling, you can’t just say something like that and not tell us more,” Jongho practically moans out as his lips part, heated gaze locked on your figure.

“Well, I guess that’s just something you’ll all have to find out in due time, then,” you giggle, a devious grin pulling onto your lips.

“No fair!” San pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“So, you don’t want to know at a later time?” You quirk a brow teasingly at the male across from you.

“We’d just much rather know sooner rather than later, Angel,” Wooyoung’s voice rumbles out, nothing but a low growl as he turns his head to face you.

“And I’m sure you will,” you reply, brushing some of his hair back from his forehead. “I know for sure that I’m not the only one with my own little fantasies.”

At the pointed look you shoot Hongjoong across from you, the male straightens, even if only slightly.

“Anyways,” you chuckle once more, “we’re getting off track again.”

“Can you blame us?” Yunho clears his throat.

You smile at him from over top of Wooyoung’s head. “So, tomorrow, just be prepared to meet my parents.”

“We’ve never been more ready for anything in our entire lives.” Seonghwa admits, voice barely above a whisper.

“I think you’ll all get along with them just fine,” you say, watching as they straighten a bit from your subtle praise. “Though, I’d prefer it if you’d refrain from reading their thoughts.”

“We’ll do our best.” Yunho promises.

“I appreciate that,” you nod, a small upturn to your lips. “I can’t wait to see my dad attempt to intimidate you.”

Their eyebrows raise in amusement.

“Be prepared for these two questions,” you tell them, “one: ‘what are your intentions with our daughter?’. And two: something to do with your occupation.”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure ‘making her the Queen of Our Realm’ would be a sufficient enough of an answer to question one.” Hongjoong jokes, and you find yourself grinning along with him.

“My mom might swoon, but yeah, my dad might not be as impressed,” you laugh. “I’m sure you’ll all think of something. However, if you need conversation topics, my mother is an interior designer, and she loves to cook and bake. My dad, on the other hand, loves music, and is an author.”

“Is that where your love of books comes from?” Yeosang inquires.

“Most likely,” you shrug. “My mom was also the one who taught me to play the piano, so there’s that.”

A slight mewl from your feet draws your attention in the next moment, Kuroo jumping up onto the arm of the couch beside you. Immediately, you bring a hand up to begin scratching at his chest.

“You’ll also get to meet another fluff ball,” you say, noticing how Kuroo looks at you with those big, golden eyes of his. “Don’t worry, Little One, Sammy could never replace you. Though, he is a bigger Monkey than you are.”

A few chuckles sound around the room as Kuroo stands a little straighter on the arm of the couch.

“Unfortunately, you cannot come with us,” you lightly scratch Kuroo’s head, watching as he blinks at you in response. “Listen, if Weserton shows up, you will not be having a good time.”

“Weserton?” Yeosang quirks a brow at you from across the table.

“My sister’s dog.” You clarify, seeing nods of understanding all around.

“Is his name actually Weserton?” San’s brow furrows.

“Oh, no, that’s just what I call him.” You chuckle. “His name is just Wes, but I thought I’d make it fancy and combine it with Bridgerton.”

“What kind of dog is he?” Jongho asks.

“He’s a German Shepard.” You grin. “A fact which my sister will tell you all about.”

The way a fond look begins to shine in your eyes has all of them practically swooning once more. Nothing but tender love and affection fills their gazes as they watch you recount little details about your family, sharing them with all eight of them now.

“Anyways, I probably shouldn’t tell you everything about them before you meet,” you shift slightly, making yourself more comfortable on the couch as Kuroo crawls on top of the pillow still sitting in your lap. “Leaves more to be discovered tomorrow.”

“We appreciate you telling us all that you have, still,” Yunho speaks, voicing his brother’s thoughts for the moment. They can tell that even though you’re excited, you are a little nervous about the fact that they’ll be meeting your family for the first time.

“Again, we promise to be on our best behaviour,” Seonghwa reiterates, sharing a look with all of his brothers around the room.

You nod, that soft smile pulling at your lips once again. “I trust you.”

A comfortable silence settles over the nine of you.

“That’s pretty much all I had for the moment,” you say. “Unless you all had something for me.”

They all share a look, and you do not fail to see the way Jongho, Mingi, Hongjoong, and Seonghwa all shift slightly in their spots. Even Wooyoung turns slightly in your arms, a knowing gleam shining within his eyes.

“I can think of a few things,” Mingi chuckles.

You simply quirk a brow in response.

“Now then,” Jongho breathes, drawing your attention to him for the moment, “on to other important matters.”

“Yeah, like how you gave San one of your sweaters to wear first.” Wooyoung pouts, crossing his arms over his chest as he sits up and out of your embrace.

You shrug, “he said he was cold.”

“Starlight, you know both San and I can regulate our body temperatures at will, right?” Mingi leans towards you, keeping his voice low as a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

“No,” you quick a brow amusedly, turning your gaze towards San who is now glaring at Mingi. “I did not.”

“I’m surprised he even took it off,” Yunho chuckles. “He’s been wearing it every day since.”

“More like living in it.” Seonghwa grumbles, crossing his own arms over his chest.

“The only reason he took it off is because he spilt-“

Hongjoong’s words immediately get cut off as San slaps a hand over his Captain’s mouth. A nervous smile rests on his face as your eyebrows raise in amusement.

A look of disgust pulls onto San’s features, a whine escaping his lips as he tears his hand away from Hongjoong’s mouth. Immediately, the younger male starts wiping the palm of his hand on Hongjoong’s thigh, muttering curses about how the elder male licked him all the while.

You laugh, one of your own hands buried within Kuroo’s fur as you notice San pouting in your direction now.

“You know, if you guys want to wear my clothes, you’re more than welcome to-“

The words are hardly even out of your mouth when Wooyoung is flinging himself over the back of the couch and rushing towards your closet, Jongho and Seonghwa not far behind.

“You two,” you point towards San and Mingi, “are not allowed to touch my favourite sweater. Not after the last time.”

“It was an accident!” Mingi attempts to defend himself, lips tugging downwards in the corners.

“I don’t care,” you shake your head back teasingly, eyes wide. “I don’t want to be doing emergency surgery on the sleeves of my favourite hoodie every time you two decide to play tug of war with the material.”

“What are you two? Feral dogs?” Jongho reappears with one of your oversized crewnecks covering his frame, an amused look shining in his eyes as he sits back in his seat.

“Says the one who practically growled at me when I went to reach for the sweater you’re wearing,” Seonghwa muses, one of your many hoodies fitting comfortably over his body as he settles back into his chair.

“I’m surprised nothing else got torn apart,” Yeosang comments, burying the lower half of his face into the neck of the fuzzy jumper he’s now wearing.

“I don’t know, Joong and Wooyoung were fighting pretty intensely over that one shirt,” Yunho hums, reappearing on the one end of the couch wearing another one of your hoodies.

“I swear to everything-“

“Don’t worry, My Love,” Hongjoong reappearing on the arm of the couch in front of you wearing one of your cardigans manages to cut you off. “We figured it out.”

“More like I won,” Wooyoung’s smug voice greets your ears as you turn to see him walking over wearing one of your oversized t-shirts. A large grin rests on his face as he plops himself back down on the couch beside you, immediately leaning into your side once more. “Your clothes are comfy.”

“At least we can all agree on that,” Jongho hums, a collective sigh of bliss escaping all of them at once.

“I didn’t realize how many hoodies you own,” Mingi comments, burying himself deeper into the one he currently wears after sitting back down in his chair.

“It’s cause I only wear the same five in rotation,” you snort. “They are my favourite article of clothing. I think I must have at least twenty in counting.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that we can borrow them at any time?” San grins, appearing on the couch opposite you wearing another one of your cardigans. Only his is done up, with nothing underneath.

“As long as you tell me you’re the one that has it, borrow whatever you want.” You shrug, nonchalantly. Though, at the way you see Wooyoung’s eyes flash, you’re quick to add, “not my underwear.”

“Damn, and here I was thinking we’d get a free pass,” he grumbles, shaking his head teasingly.

“Don’t push your luck, Demon Boy,” you poke his cheek affectionately, feeling him smile against your side as he pulls himself closer into you.

Softly, you begin to thread your fingers through Kuroo’s fur, smiling as you hear him begin to purr in your lap. The affectionate stares you can feel being sent your way has you relaxing into this moment, right here, right now, with all of them. Already, your mind has started to calm down, and you cannot help but revel in this feeling.

Yeah. You could get used to this.

[sing-you-fools]

Hi, I saw your post that Neil liked. I am sorry but I haven't read Terry's works and I'm curious, how do his themes in works connect to your post? Because you started the post saying you were thinking about his themes. So how exactly does it connect to what you have realized? I didn't quite understand. Thanks!

so i finally figured out how to access my inbox. sorry if it's been a little while!

i definitely wasn't expecting more than ten or so people to see that post, and i'm very much on the Discworld Side of Tumblr, so i didn't bother explaining. then person number 8 to like the post was @neil-gaiman himself, so...it went differently than i expected. so, sure! i'll do my best.

my first piece of advice is to read Terry Pratchett. and if you specifically want to understand what i mean in my other post, read the Witches books starting with Wyrd Sisters, or skip straight to Witches Abroad (Discworld books typically stand well on their own, though the more you've read, the more you'll pick up on). look up the Discworld Reading Order Guide 3.0 for further instruction. (it'll tell you to start with Equal Rites for the Witches, and you can, but it's less the first book in the Witches series and more the book the Witches series spun off from. personally, i like to treat it as a standalone prequel.)

in the Witches series, cackling is what happens to witches when they're too isolated and don't talk to other witches enough. they start to get a little unhinged. it shows in small ways at first, but it can get dangerous if it goes too far. specifically, the one time we actually see a cackling witch, she's forcing the world around her into literal fairy tale plots (sound familiar?). so when i said Aziraphale is cackling, i was drawing a connection to that specific book - i don't think Aziraphale is that far gone, but he's desperate and he's pushing things into a shape they're not supposed to be. he's so desperate for his happy ending, and i can't really blame him.

now, drawing this out to Pratchett's larger body of work - the thing to understand is that he was a master of archetypes. you know Aziraphale's "not just a southern pansy, the southern pansy!" line? that's all Pratchett's main characters. Vimes isn't just a bastard cop, he's the bastard cop. Moist is the slippery conman. and the witches, they're the three witches. the maiden, the mother, and...the other one. (there's always a twist, of course. archetypes without a twist would get boring.)

and he works with these archetypal plots, too - again, especially with the witches. and an overarching theme is that the characters need to work with the narrative they're in to bring it to a conclusion. if their solutions try to fight the shape of the story, they don’t work. the most common element on the Disc is narrativium, which serves to ensure that stories follow the narrative. stick to the proper shape. it, for example, forces Granny Weatherwax to be the good twin when her sister went dark side even though she wanted to be the evil one, because there has to be a good twin, because that's how stories work.

(as a writer, i can only imagine this was at least partially inspired by how hard it is to get your characters to do what you want them to.)

so, taking it back to Aziraphale. he's fighting the story they're actually in so hard, forcing it into another shape entirely. that was never going to work, because Good Omens is a Terry Pratchett story. it's a Neil Gaiman story, too, obviously, and Pratchett may not be here to help write it anymore, but Neil knows how to write a Terry Pratchett story, and he's not about to let his friend's spirit disappear from this world they created together. narrativium may not exist in Roundworld (Earth), but i'd bet it exists in heaven and hell, and probably Aziraphale's shop.

QUICK SNEAKY EDIT: if you're wondering if you should read more Pratchett, the humor in Good Omens is very much reflective of his writing

[humming-pokemon-helpers]

Finally got the go-ahead to post about this… so, with the growing visibility of hybrids in the public eye, I was offered the opportunity to interview with RIME Magazine! (Capitalizing the name properly was part of the deal.)

I’ll be pasting the text of the article below for anyone without a subscription (to be fair, it’s also posted online, and I have permission), but before that… I also got a cover photoshoot! I wound up touching up my ears with my illusions… and some of the burn scars… but I’m quite happy with how it turned out, still. Wolfy couldn’t make it, so I took the photo with Chiru that day! Anyways, hope you enjoy. :)

(//Art is a commission by @/RhymeWithRay here or mostly on Twitter! They make amazing Pokémon-style work, worth a look for sure!!!)

But without further ado, the interview!

RIME Magazine sat down for an interview with Vanilla Cress, a Hisuian Zorua hybrid, human and Pokémon psychologist, Champion-class trainer in Paldea, Galar Champion Cup semifinalist, and hybrid model and activist, in early February. Topics discussed varied widely, from Cress's own experience growing up as a human-Pokémon hybrid, understanding Pokémon, Cress's recent modeling and activism, and future plans. What follows is a condensed and edited transcript of the interview.

That's quite the list of accolades you've accumulated along the way. What do you think has led you to achieve so highly?

Well, for one, I think you're giving a lot of this more credit than it's worth, [laughs]. I'm not sure being pulled off of the street because I look like a walking ice-cream cone is much of an accomplishment, personally. Nor do I do much activism apart from this interview now, apparently.

I think I understand the answer you're going for here, though. I would say that my hybridity's a large part of what brought me as far as I've come. Not only in having the gift to talk to our partners in life--which is an incredible gift--but in that there's this drive to prove myself. Or maybe to redeem myself. I'm not really sure which, personally. Doing things has just filled all of the gaps in my life, until now.

Right, and you only publicly "came out" as a hybrid less than a year ago.

Yes, less than a year ago! It's been a huge adjustment, but I have so much more energy these days, not having to worry about being discovered by hitting something with my tail, [laughs].

While my experience hasn't been entirely positive after "coming out" myself, and I realize that even being able to hide is a privilege many hybrids simply don't have, I will say that generally speaking, the public response has been overwhelmingly positive. Say, for every enemy I've made, I've made ten more friends in their place. And from so many different walks of life, too!

You say your experience wasn't entirely positive. Could you elaborate some on your negative experiences as a hybrid?

Well, if I have to. Which I suppose I don't, but it seems rude not to. There are, of course, people out there who view you as subhuman, when you look like me. Or in maybe a less extreme sense, people who have a tendency to see all of the fluff and decide "Oh, this person--I should talk to this person like they're a child." But those are really quite few and far between, at least in my case. I'm more likely to scare people, with the teeth and the claws. [They make a pose showing both off.]

My main negative experience, though, was something more personal and targeted.

Yes, there was the news earlier last year about the Dreamyard Laboratory...

"Earlier last year" doesn't feel right, somehow. I won't go much into detail, but yes, I was taken against my will for the purpose of illegal research on human-Pokémon hybrid power, by Colress Achroma. It was only due to the efforts of my dear friends that I'm here now. I cannot express my gratitude to them enough, if any of you are reading!

Thank you for sharing. To turn back the clock a bit, what was your childhood like, being half-Zorua?

Well, for most of that time, it was like paradise! When I was a young child, we were quite isolated, so I never got the sense that my life was "off" or "strange". I thought for the longest time it was normal to have a family like mine. My older sibling, Wolfgang, a Zorua then--we were just "W" and "V" at the time--he and I would just run wild and play in Lostlorn Forest for hours while the rest of the pack hunted. And then they'd come back, and they'd start in on whatever they'd caught, and my mother would swoop back in to make me something completely different. And teach me the alphabet. [Laughs]

Was there a time, when that facade cracked?

Oh, there was this time, right when I had gotten used to using my illusions, that my mother brought me to the grocery store with her. And that's when I learned a lot of facts about the world very quickly. And then I had to learn those facts all over again, a few years later, when I rejoined the human world with my adopted family. Everything had to be hidden after that, or else. It was dangerous, not knowing what sort of person you'd meet, or who'd want to hurt you just for existing.

You say you were also adopted?

Right. There was... a forest fire, at one point. Intentional. And I lost everyone dear to me but Wolfgang. And I became the sort of Zorua you see here now [a Hisuian Zorua]. And after a few years of... homelessness and what not, I was taken in by the Cresses. It was a chance encounter. And it was a major culture shock! Going from streets to high society parties. It was thanks to them, though, that I managed to find something to do with my life and graduated from Naranja-Uva.

And in between that, the Galar gym challenge...

[Laughs] I'm sure you have a clip of that somewhere. I'd rather not talk about it, that was... a strange period of teenagerhood for me.

How do you feel about your childhood, on reflection?

That's tough. That's something I believe I'm still working out, myself. It was positive moment-to-moment, but considering what I know, now, I would say... to some degree, I resent it. It's hard not to resent being born in a position where it feels like, for so long, nobody understands you. I wouldn't trade Wolfgang for anyone else, but otherwise, I do wish, sometimes, I was "just" a human.

I can imagine. At the same time, talking to Pokémon is quite the advantage, right? What is it like?

Depends on the Pokémon! Some of us are more talkative than others, and of course, there's a range in how sophisticated Pokémon communication is too.

The difference is something like... imagine two Pokémon asking for pizza. In my experience, a Solosis would usually just beam the word "PIZZA" right into your mind. A Sewaddle might be coherent enough to say "Pizza, please". And a Zoroark... probably something along the lines of "give me the damn pizza already," [laughs].

So sometimes you can get a lot across by understanding Pokémon, but that doesn't mean they're all speaking in the same way as humans still. Understanding those individual differences goes a long way in my line of work, too. It's a bit easier than reading behavior, anyways!

As a Pokémon psychologist, what's one thing you think more people should understand about their Pokémon?

More than anything... it sounds cliche, but most Pokémon truly view humans as their partners, just as we do them. As much scientific proof as has gone into the question of proving that Pokémon love us as much as we love them, in my experience... that's absolutely true.

At the same time, even as partners, Pokémon think quite differently from humans in their daily life. I think in order to create the most balanced world possible, where both can coexist, it's key to consider the Pokémon's perspective more too.

What's one thing you'd like to impart about hybrids to people who don't know much about them?

Every hybrid's experience is different, firstly! Some, like me, are born, but others are created through science or magic we still don't know about. Some may look almost identical to humans, and some may have appearances considered frightening or unusual. Some of us have long-standing health problems. Some of us can use moves, or speak in Pokémon language, or access abilities, whereas others may be more limited. There's no one experience that I can really label as "the hybrid experience".

There are people who might think we're dangerous. Or inhuman. But whether you consider us 'human' or not... like any living being, we still deserve respect and a voice. Maybe that's obvious, but I think it still rings true.

Finally, what are your plans from here?

I'm hoping to finish my Unova League challenge together with my traveling partner! I certainly don't intend to become the Champion, but if I can say I challenged every member of the Elite 4, I'd be happy.

From there... well, there are a few things I'd like to resolve otherwise, but I think I'll return to my day job as a therapist, and hopefully, my own personal sword training. I'd also like to spend more time with my friends, my traveling partner, and my family in Lostlorn! My brother, Wolfgang has four incredible kits, and they're the absolute most adorable--

I'm afraid we're out of time for today, Mx. Vanilla.

Ah, yes. Thank you for having me!

[marimitozpen]

how to find a family and yourself, too

Summary: He supposes he becomes a man somewhere along the way, begrudgingly accepting the role as if it was some new expectation he needed to rise to. He never questioned why it was that way, just that it was. It's just some truth of the world: the sea is blue, his hair is green, and men just have to pretend to know what being a man is.

Or, Zoro realizes he is not as cis as he thinks he is, and that the crew doesn’t care, and that he really loves his family.

★★★★★★★★★★

Hi! This fic was originally uploaded to ao3 exactly two years ago today, and in honor of its second birthday I wanted to crosspost to tumblr. This is the only fic I've ever uploaded, and I wrote it as a way to process the fact that I am agender. A lot of Zoro's thoughts and feelings are based on my own. I know there's not a market for agender Zoro, but I know that this fic helped people from my ao3 comments. The original fic is under a different name, and I went through and edited this one before crossposting, because I have improved over the past two years. Anyways, enjoy!

*slight spoilers up to and including fishman island*

★★★★★★★★★★

The first time it happens, Zoro is ten years old.

The day isn’t going well, anyways. Zoro has been training tirelessly at the Isshin Dojo for an entire year already, dedicating all he has into finally defeating Kuina. She is his last obstacle, and just that day, she had beaten him in their 2,000th match. 2,000 times, Zoro had taken up the bamboo swords, and 2,000 times Kuina had struck him down. She’s still so far away, this unreachable pillar that Zoro just can’t defeat, no matter how hard he tries. Zoro is at his wits end, trying to understand how he is ever going to get out of this dojo, how he is ever going to move forward.

It’s hopeless, really. How could Zoro ever hope to become the greatest when he can’t even defeat the girl in front of him?

So, he takes up his swords, real ones made of steel and sharp enough to slice anything, and challenges Kuina. He finds her outside, sitting by the side of the road, and starts yelling. “I plan to make this our last fight, I’m going to end this! Fight me with a real sword!”

It is exhilarating , the most exciting thing in Zoro’s short life up to this point. Bamboo swords and sparring do not compare to the thrill of putting your life on the line, the danger of getting hurt for real, the scent of steel and sparks in the air. Kuina is just as difficult to defeat as ever, always faster or stronger than him. Zoro’s arms ache from the weight of the swords, and Kuina teases him, and she still manages to toss him in the air like a ragdoll. Their 2,001st match; Zoro’s 2,001st loss. The weight of the defeat is crushing, and as much as Zoro doesn’t want to, he starts to tear up.

But then, for reasons Zoro just can not understand, Kuina tells him that he shouldn’t cry. She tells him that eventually, just because she is a girl, she will start to get weaker. That she won’t be taken seriously. That just because of her gender, she can never be the strongest .

It makes Zoro feel a lot of emotions, a lot of which he can’t really decipher right now. If Kuina is giving up on being the greatest for some stupid reason like being a girl, where does that leave Zoro? All of his training so far has been just to defeat her, and here she is, saying she was just going to lose someday. What about all of this strength I’ve worked for? Zoro thinks. What about the strength you worked for? Does it all just disappear, because you grew up and that makes you weaker?

There was something else, too, something a lot harder to put words to. Just as Kuina is accepting defeat because she was a girl, she’s basically telling Zoro that he’s destined to win because he was a man. He’s everything she wishes she was, born to be stronger and faster and naturally more talented, and Zoro just can’t stand it. It feels like an unbelievable weight on his shoulders, just another thing he has to work for and grow into. Who says I have to be a man like that? Why does it matter? None of this matters, just our training!

Zoro finally gives Kuina a piece of his mind, yelling about the things that were easier for him to understand. He tells her that when the day comes that he finally beats her, it will be because he worked for it and earned his own strength, not because of her gender. And that she can’t just give up on being the greatest, because he is going to surpass her. Kuina smiles at him, and under the moonlight, they make a promise. One of us will become the world’s greatest swordsman.

Zoro gets everything out that night, but he still goes to bed feeling like something was wrong. But how could he explain the sinking feeling in his stomach, the gut instinct that Kuina was wrong? He’s already gotten her to agree that her strength and training were more important than something like her gender, so why does he still feel so odd?

She just… told me I was a man. I never thought about it until now, but am I? What does that mean? Does that mean beating Kuina, becoming the strongest? Zoro’s thoughts run wild for a minute, and he lets them, before he thinks about how swordsmanship was mind as well as body. Whatever was happening, it didn’t matter, it was just a bump in the road. He just decides that Kuina was what made a man, that if gender matters so much, he’ll just earn his when he beats her. It’s simple enough, and Zoro finally drifts to sleep.

He never gets the chance to beat Kuina. The next day, his world comes crashing down. Kuina had died, slipped down the stairs and away. Forever out of Zoro’s reach.

It was really, really hard to accept for a long, long time. Zoro throws himself into his training, trying to ignore the way he could still see her out of the corners of his eyes, focused only on becoming stronger so that he could live up to their promise. Zoro never settles for anything less than the best, and now he has to carry Kuina’s dream, too.

Kuina’s father hands over her sword, and it feels heavy with expectation but perfectly balanced in Zoro’s small hands. Carrying along Kuina’s legacy was still difficult sometimes, but sometimes he feels like having someone there with him makes it easier. Zoro pushes forward, both striving to surpass Kuina and to bring her along with him.

Zoro doesn’t think about his weird feelings from that night again for a long time. It’s easy to ignore in the monotony of the dojo – he doesn’t stand out from the other kids in anything but strength. They all wear the same uniforms, sleep in piles on the floor, train and live and fight together. Zoro pushes himself a little beyond what was reasonable sometimes, but that’s all just training to become the strongest. Some days, the pressure he feels is so overwhelming that every “he” he hears stings, but that’s okay. He can ignore it.

He supposes he becomes a man somewhere along the way, begrudgingly accepting the role as if it was some new expectation he needed to rise to. He never questioned why it was that way, just that it was. It's just some truth of the world: the sea is blue, his hair is green, and men just have to pretend to know what being a man is. He doesn’t get to seriously question it again until nine years later, when Zoro finds himself as one member of a two-member pirate crew, sailing away from a Marine base and on to something new.

----------

Zoro wakes up to Luffy singing, loud and bright and right in Zoro’s ear. Zoro doesn’t regret joining up, because he can tell this kid is going to take him far, but he also really wants to sleep right now. He’s not made of rubber, he can’t just bounce back into place after being injured the way his new captain can. Zoro cracks one eye open and turns his head in Luffy’s direction, intent on giving the younger boy a piece of his mind.

Instead, his eyes fall on Luffy’s chest. Luffy’s vest is open, and there are two long, thin cuts on either side of his chest. They look old, already healed, but Zoro still panics.

“Luffy, your chest! Did you get hurt back at the Marine base? Why didn’t you tell anyone!” he shouts, sitting up as quickly as he can.

Luffy just cocks his head, looking terribly confused. Then, as if a lightbulb has gone off in his head, he smiles. “Oh, are you talking about my scars?”

Zoro nods, swallowing. Those scars look painful , and Zoro is kinda shocked that Luffy is being so nonchalant about all of this. He is pulled out of his thoughts by laughter.

“I got surgery a year ago! Pretty cool, right? I told Gramps I wouldn’t become a Marine unless I got it, so he paid for me to have surgery, then I became a pirate anyways. I sure showed him, huh?”

Zoro’s head is spinning. He doesn’t know who Gramps is or why he wanted Luffy to become a Marine, and he still doesn’t know why Luffy got this surgery. His confusion must be clear on his face, because Luffy starts explaining again.

“Are you confused on why I got the surgery?” he asks gently. Zoro nods.

“It’s cause I’m trans!” Luffy announces with a grin. “Do you know what that is?”

Zoro shakes his head at that. Is this something I should know? he thinks, but Luffy is quick to dispel his worry.

“Don’t worry, lots of people don’t know! I didn’t even know for a long time. Basically, it means I wasn’t born as a boy. My brain and my heart always said I was a boy, even though my body didn’t. So I had to change my body to match.”

Luffy’s explanation makes sense to Zoro, but he still feels confused, although for a different reason. Not born as a boy…  Zoro just didn’t know that was something that could happen. He is silent for a long time, and Luffy just starts humming beside him. Zoro thinks he might recognize the tune.

After a long time, Luffy finally speaks up again. “Zoro, you’re… okay with it, right?”

Zoro startles a bit, then processes Luffy’s question. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be okay with it?”

Luffy shrugs, one hand playing with the brim of his straw hat. “I dunno… it’s just that some people aren’t. You went all silent on me, I didn’t know what you were thinking.”

Zoro smiles at Luffy. It’s weird, because smiles used to be rare for Zoro, but it seems like his captain is able to draw them out of him so easily. “It’s okay, captain. I was just thinking about something else.”

Luffy laughs again. The sun is dipping lower on the horizon, washing their boat in shades of orange and purple, but Luffy’s face is as bright as the sun. “That’s good, cause I would’ve had to fight you if you weren’t okay with it.” He sways a little where he sits, coming to rest with his head on Zoro’s shoulder. “I don’t wanna fight my crew. That’s not what nakama’s for.”

Zoro just looks ahead, still deep in thought. He is vaguely aware of Luffy falling asleep on his shoulder, but for some reason, he doesn’t push the boy off. He just sits, thinking. Not born as a man… so how did you know, then? Did someone tell you that you were a man, just like Kuina told me?

What does all of this mean? I never just… felt like a man, I had to make myself feel like one. So am I a woman, then? Is that an option? Zoro’s racing mind halts for a second as he considers this train of thought. He snorts as he realizes how stupid it is. Okay, definitely not a woman. I guess this is what Luffy felt, then. Just not a woman.

It all starts to make a little more sense to Zoro. If all it takes to be a man is just not being a woman, then Zoro has that down pat. The rest will be easy. And yet, Zoro still feels strange. It feels like a door is opening up to him. Something is starting to change, and he can’t tell what yet.

----------

Zoro hates Sanji the moment he sets eyes on him. The cook is pretentious, starting a fight with a Marine over some soup, and Zoro can’t stand how preachy Sanji is. Then, he starts getting all flirty with Nami, which also pisses Zoro off. This Sanji guy is a real idiot, and if Zoro didn’t respect Luffy so much, he would be really worried about this guy joining the crew.

But there’s something else about Sanji that irks Zoro, something he can’t quite put his finger on. He could go on for days about how Sanji is loud, and rude, and stuck-up, and stupid; but it feels like Zoro is skirting around some other issue. Luffy and Zoro are just as loud and rude, and according to Nami they’re even dumber than Sanji. Most of these qualities don’t even bother Zoro, so why does Sanji just have this way of pushing all of Zoro’s buttons?

After a few weeks and a few run-ins with death (and a very valuable reality check for Zoro), Zoro begrudgingly accepts Sanji’s presence on the crew. He has to admit, the other man is damn good in a fight, both as an ally and as an opponent. He’s also a very, very good cook, but Zoro would never tell him that. He doesn’t need Sanji’s ego getting any bigger, the thing is already threatening to sink the Merry. 

But Sanji still pisses Zoro off to no end.

The two of them get along like a house on fire. They will argue about anything and everything, much to Luffy’s amusement and Nami and Usopp’s chagrin. Zoro will insult the cook’s stupid eyebrows and Sanji will insult Zoro’s unusual hair color, and they will exchange blows just as often as they have each other’s backs. It makes things slightly tense, but still interesting.

Sanji is everything Zoro hates about men, Zoro realizes one day. He is cocky and rude and he pushes himself onto women, he is over-the-top and annoying and oh so performative. Zoro can’t stand him, because he’s everything Zoro’s not and he’s everything Zoro doesn’t ever want to be and he’s so damn loud about it.

This realization does absolutely nothing to remedy Zoro and Sanji’s relationship. Zoro is not only mad at Sanji at this point, he’s just as mad at himself for realizing what Sanji is and what he’s doing and feeling threatened by it. Seriously, Zoro has no reason to be questioning himself right now, and yet Sanji just manages to get under his skin and make him actually think. Zoro doesn’t like thinking all that much, he much prefers actions.

It makes Zoro wonder why Sanji is like this and how exactly his masculinity or whatever has the power to make Zoro so mad. It has Zoro questioning his own masculinity, because he is so different from Sanji so how can he be sure he’s doing it right? It makes Zoro think about his place on the crew, because it used to be easy; there was Luffy, the captain; then Zoro, then Usopp and Nami. Now there’s Sanji, and he has the potential to be Zoro’s equal in terms of strength, and Zoro just feels so strange about all of this. 

Zoro deals with it the way he deals with all of his non-physical problems: he ignores it. If Zoro can’t slice through a problem, it simply can’t be solved, from his point of view. Not that he doesn’t try slicing through Sanji, but the cook is quick enough to put up a fight. And besides, Luffy would probably be pretty upset if Zoro hurt or killed his beloved cook. 

The two of them continue to fight, and Zoro might even be starting more fights on purpose now, because he’s just angry with himself and Sanji and what better way to take it out? Eventually Nami puts some sort of stop on it and gives them both a stern talking-to, but that’s only because Sanji can’t say no to her and she’s threatening to raise Zoro’s debt if he keeps starting unnecessary fights. This doesn’t end the fighting entirely, not by a long shot, but at least some semblance of peace returns to their small ship. If Sanji were gone , Zoro thinks, peace could return entirely. But unfortunately, Sanji is there to stay, and he is there to be a thorn in Zoro’s side for the entire rest of their journey.

----------

Zoro did not expect to be literally facing his past when he woke up this morning and departed the ship to explore Loguetown, but here he is. Staring into the face of a dead girl who is shouting words at him that he hasn’t heard in almost a decade, and Zoro just feels so many things he might not be able to handle it.

Tashigi has been popping up around Zoro all day; he saw her on the street and accidentally broke her glasses, she dragged him to the Marine base for chores, he escaped but met her again at the swords shop, she finally recognized him and chased him down. And here they are, standing in the rain, as she taunts him.

As if it weren’t bad enough that she’s forcing her stupid ideal of justice on him, insulting his bond with his sword because he’s a “criminal” or whatever, Tashigi starts repeating the words that Kuina shouted that day all those years ago. She seems insulted that Zoro isn’t taking her seriously, interprets it not as an offense to her own skill, but an attack on her gender. Kuina’s face and Kuina’s words… it’s all too much for Zoro.

“Is it because I’m a woman?” Tashigi screams. “You view me as weak, you won’t finish me off! Take me seriously! You don’t understand what it’s like, to wish you were born a boy!” She’s so loud and so pushy and Zoro finally just snaps. He whirls around and starts yelling back, even though he knows it’s childish.

“Everything about you pisses me off! You have the same face as my close friend who died years ago, and then you start shouting the same things as she does! Give me a break, you copycat!” Zoro breathes in, and Tashigi starts arguing back, but Zoro continues. “I’ll tell you what I told her; your gender has nothing to do with it, only your skill and mine. And if I didn’t take you seriously, take that as an offense to your skill, because I held back because you were weak! Don’t blame it on gender!”

Tashigi just stands there, staring at him. It’s clear she’s never been talked to like this; her jaw is hanging open and Zoro is pretty sure that there’s tears mixing in with the rain on her cheeks. He scowls at her, then turns back to go find his captain, leaving her in the dust.

Later, when Zoro is back on the ship, he starts to think a bit more about what Tashigi said. It brings back everything from the night of Kuina’s death; the confusion and the anger and the weird, unplaceable feeling that Zoro was sure he suppressed but is coming back to rear its ugly head. What is it about swordswomen and their ability to shake me up like this? Zoro thinks to himself, allowing himself to just wallow in his confusion for a few seconds. He then stands up, shakes himself off, and decides he must become stronger, so he can get past this stupid gender stuff.

Of course, he can’t fully relax yet, because Nami is approaching. “Thinking over there, Zoro? I don’t see you doing that often,” she teases. Zoro flips her off. 

“Awww, c’mon, don’t be like that. Tell me everything! I’m a great problem solver, you know.” She encourages as she sits down on the deck and pulls Zoro down next to her. And Zoro really doesn’t want to tell her anything, but… they’re cooped up on a ship and Nami is the only woman here so maybe she will at least have some perspective on this whole thing?

“I just got in a really weird fight today, with one of the Marines. After I defeated her she started yelling about how I wasn’t taking her seriously just because she’s a woman. It reminded me of my childhood friend, she used to say the same thing. It’s strange, because I don’t think about who my opponent is when I fight them, only their skill.” Zoro explains. His voice sounds weak and it hits Zoro that this is really stupid, but he’s already said it so there’s not much he can do now.

Nami hums as she thinks. “Well, she’s probably feeling insecure a little bit. All women are used to being underestimated. Some of us, like me,” Nami accentuates her statement by pointing to herself, “like to use it to our advantage. I’ve got Sanji-kun wrapped around my finger, you know? Just because I’m a girl.” She pauses, then looks at Zoro before starting her next point.

“Well, I guess some women don’t view it the same way. They want to be seen as equals, instead of having to constantly prove themselves by exceeding expectations. I guess that Marine and your friend are both like that, they see that you’re not taking them seriously and they think it’s because you’re underestimating them. But if it’s just because of their skill, like you say, then there’s not much you can do other than ignore them.” Nami pats his shoulder. “Got that, stupid?”

“Yeah,” Zoro grumbles, not rising to the bait for once. “Although Kuina, my friend… I never underestimated her. She was always stronger than me. I never once beat her in a fight.”

If Nami notices the use of past tense, she doesn’t comment on it. “I’m sure I would’ve liked her, if she could take you down a peg,” Nami laughs. She leaves a little while later, and Zoro is kinda glad he had this talk. He’s still a bit swamped by the weird feelings, but at least the other things are starting to make a little more sense.

----------

“Hey Robin, whatcha readin?”

The response from the crew is instantaneous. Everyone who is on deck, Zoro included, falls silent and stares. Zoro himself sits up from where he was sprawled across the deck to watch as his captain leans over Robin’s shoulder to inspect the book she has laying open on the table.

He thinks he heard about this happening once before, of Luffy showing an interest in Robin’s books, and that the crew had been just as shocked then. It’s just that books and Luffy… they don’t really go together. Luffy has been listening in to some of Robin’s story times and she is more than happy to read out loud for some of her younger crewmates, but it’s rare that Luffy is the one to show interest.

“Oh, it’s a book about different identities. It’s rather interesting, do you want me to read it to you?” Robin hardly seems phased by Luffy’s sudden interest, taking it in stride. She’s always happy to indulge her captain on his more tame shenanigans.

Luffy shakes his head. “Nah, the pictures just caught my attention.” At this, most of the crew lets out a collective sigh. Nami goes back to watering her flowers, and Usopp and Chopper start making noise on the upper deck again. Sanji prattles away in the kitchen and Franky stays below deck, neither of them having heard the initial question. Zoro wants to keep watching, for some reason. Luffy hooks his arm over Robin’s shoulder, fingers running across the page. “Like this one! The colors are pretty. What’s it mean?”

Robin smiles, and it is unlike the smiles Zoro has seen from her up to this point. “That flag represents transgender people, Captain. Do you know what that is?”

Now it is Luffy’s turn to smile, the toothy grin taking up his whole face. “Like me!” he exclaims cheerfully.

Robin looks shocked for a second before she reigns her expression in. Zoro thinks this is the first time he’s seen her smile with teeth. “I’m like that too, Captain,” she replies. “How funny that we should meet on this broad sea.”

Luffy is positively beaming at this point. He finally pulls up a chair and sits across from Robin. He is gesturing excitedly as he speaks, telling Robin it is so cool that they met and that he’s never met another person like himself before. Zoro smiles a little, in spite of himself. It’s nice to hear his captain so happy, and seeing Robin smiling fondly isn’t so bad either. He is about to drift back to sleep when Luffy is suddenly calling to him.

“Zoro, hey Zoro! You should come look too! This book is so cool, they have a flag for everything!” Zoro cracks one eye open to glare at his captain. Robin is giggling from behind her hand.

Zoro sighs. Yes, it’s nice that his captain is taking interest in a somewhat quiet activity, and that Robin is opening up a little too. But to be honest, Zoro has no interest in the book himself. He figures that nothing in there is going to apply to him, since he already realized he’s not like his captain or Robin.

“I think that the swordsman wants to sleep, Captain.” Oh, nice save Robin! Zoro makes a mental note to thank her later. Luffy protests a little, grumbling something about how all Zoro does is sleep, but he’s drawn back into the book when Robin flips the page.

“Robin, look, this one looks like Zoro,” Luffy comments. Robin agrees, telling him that those colors do look a lot like Zoro’s hair color and outfit. Zoro can still feel Luffy’s gaze on him, but he ignores it. He closes his eyes and lets himself drift off to sleep for real, this time.

----------

Zoro wakes up in a bed in a room he does not recognize. Not that he’s never done that before, but it seems different this time. Zoro shouldn’t be here.

The last thing he remembers is running for his life. Zoro had been gravely injured, and there was an admiral and all these robots, and they really stood no chance…

The weird, spongy, not-earth of the Sabaody Archipelago is making it hard to run. Zoro’s legs ache and he’s sure he’s reopened several of his wounds. It took a serious joint effort just to take down that one Kuma robot, and Zoro isn’t honestly sure he has it in him to take on any more. He hates feeling so weak, but of course he couldn’t have changed the outcome of Thriller Bark. Zoro would gladly do it again to save his captain.

Still, this is a very bad situation, and no time for reminiscing. Zoro has crewmates to protect, and he has robots to escape. Of course, it is then that the real Kuma shows up. He quips about Zoro still being alive, and Zoro gives him the best answer he can in the moment. Of course, he does owe Kuma in a way, but the man still poses a huge threat.

Zoro’s lungs ache and his legs are about to give out. His arms are weak, he can’t do anything to save himself. He is aware of people yelling, trying to save him, but it’s too late. Kuma raises one huge, ungloved paw and swings it. Zoro’s world fades away immediately.

That’s the last thing Zoro remembers, so how the hell did he get here? He can feel bandages covering his skin, but they are not wrapped with the professionalism and care that Chopper’s usually are, which tells him that he’s no longer with his crewmates. He wonders what happened to them and starts panicking, bolting out of bed to start taking in his surroundings.

Then, he sees her out of the corner of his eye. The weird ghost girl from Thriller Bark, what was her name again? Perfume, or something?

“It’s Perona, you dumbass!” she shouts. Oh, so Zoro said that out loud then.

She explains to him that he came down in a bubble and how it was part of Kuma’s power. She doesn’t know where they are, but she bandaged him up the best she could, and he really needs to wait and rest before he does anything stupid. 

Zoro doesn’t listen, of course. He’s not so weak and helpless that he can just lay in bed when his crew probably needs him, when his captain probably needs him. He just keeps going out and getting into fights with the weird monkeys that inhabit the island, pissing Perona off and injuring himself further.

A few days later, Mihawk shows up to tell Zoro about the war, and this is probably the worst Zoro has ever felt. To think, while he was out here unable to defeat some stupid baboons, his captain was fighting in a war and losing his only brother in such a horrific way. Zoro is useless, useless, useless, and he’s so weak it hurts.

Then he gets the orders: stay where you are. You have two years. Get stronger. It’s painful, but it’s simple and it’s what needs to be done. It makes Zoro’s heart ache that he can’t be there to comfort his captain, but he quickly decides that he will spend these two years getting stronger so that he won’t miss this kind of situation again. Better yet, there won’t be one at all. After some begging, Mihawk agrees to take him in, and Zoro throws himself into his training. 

It is slightly reminiscent of his time at the dojo. At the time, Zoro’s need to become the strongest was so that he could carry on Kuina’s will and achieve their dream. But now, Zoro has people, a family , he wants to protect. The training is grueling and bloody and mind-numbing, and Zoro wouldn’t have it any other way. He loses sight of everything other than his goal and his crew, the two things he is doing everything for. Two years, and Zoro will be strong enough so that nothing has to happen to hurt the Straw Hats again.

----------

Zoro has to admit, being back with the crew after two years of separation is really, really nice. Two years apart was far too long. He had missed everyone, even that stupid cook, and he missed being on the ocean. He understands why they spent two years apart, and everyone is much stronger for it, but he is glad that those years are behind them.

Just making it off of Sabaody was an ordeal. Luffy manages to attract trouble everywhere he goes, though, so the crew is used to this. Zoro almost missed the nonstop action and the daily near-death experiences, but action is not the only part of a pirate’s life. Zoro loves just being on the Sunny, surrounded by his crew – his family – exchanging stories about their training over the past two years.

Zoro learns where everyone spent their two years: Luffy trained with Rayleigh, Chopper mastered all of his forms and learned a lot about medicine, Brook went on tour but still managed to strengthen his skills. Robin mentions something about staying with Luffy’s family in the Revolutionary Army, and it seems innocent enough except for the fact that Robin is wearing her “I know something you don’t” smile. It’s easily brushed off though, because Robin says she can’t share classified information. 

Zoro is not really one to give praise, but he does compliment Usopp for surviving two years on an island that was literally trying to eat him. Seriously, Usopp has developed a lot since Zoro last saw him, and he seems a lot more confident than the insecure liar they picked up in Syrup Village so long ago.

Everyone seems a lot more confident, actually. Robin is smiling much more, Chopper is so much more enthusiastic than he’s ever been, and the cook seems weirdly relaxed for once. Zoro hadn’t noticed it much in Sabaody, but the cook seems… different, somehow. He isn’t quite as pushy as he had been in the past, and his mere presence isn’t aggravating Zoro the way it used to. 

Zoro gets his explanation soon enough. Sanji is second to last to share his adventures from the last two years, and he takes a shaky breath before doing so. Robin, sitting next to Sanji, places one hand on his back and gives him an encouraging nod.

“I spent my two years on Momoiro Island.” Sanji starts. He is met with mostly blank stares, except from Nami, who raises her eyebrows. Sanji scans their reactions before he continues.

“So the island is home to a huge community of LGBT people, who wanted to create a place where they could exist without judgement. They’re led by Emporio Ivankov of the Revolutionary Army. I actually got to see Robin a few times over those years, because she visited the island on business once or twice. Ah, but that’s besides the point…”

Sanji trails off, still acting nervous. Luckily for him, Luffy interrupts. “I remember Iva-chan! He was so nice! Did he train you, Sanji?”

Sanji whips his head in Luffy’s direction so quickly that Zoro thinks it might fly off. “You think he was nice?”

“Yeah, he saved my life,” Luffy says matter-of-factly.

Sanji shakes his head. “That… doesn’t matter right now. Yes, he trained my cooking and my fighting abilities, but he also made me learn a lot more about myself. Like, that my views on the world and people in the LGBT community were really outdated. And… that I’m genderfluid.”

“Great for you, bro!” Franky congratulates, tears already forming in his eyes. “What does that mean, though?”

Sanji laughs, Franky’s antics lightening the mood for all of them. “I just don’t feel like a man all the time. Sometimes, I feel like a woman, or sometimes I feel like I’m somewhere in between. It changes all the time. Oh, and I use any pronouns now.”

Franky nods, and Usopp also nods along with one hand on his chin. “Right, I get it, but what are pronouns?” Usopp asks.

“It’s like he, she, they. You can use any of them to refer to me, just make sure to use all of them at different points. It’s not great if I’m hearing only ‘he’ all the time.”

Zoro can practically see the steam coming from Luffy’s ears as he processes this. Finally, Luffy speaks. “So, is it like, ‘this is Sanji, they are my cook, and they make the best food ever?’” he asks before looking between Sanji and Robin with an expectant look on his face. Robin giggles softly, and Sanji smiles.

“Yeah, just like that. Or ‘Sanji is my cook, she makes the best food ever.’ You can use any of them,” they assure their captain.

Luffy smiles wide and laughs. “Okay, I get it now! Thank you Sanji!”

After Luffy, everyone else offers thei support and congratulations. Nami, Robin, and Chopper each wrap Sanji up in a tight hug, while Brook and Usopp remind Sanji that he’s always a valued member of the crew. Franky continues crying because of how much strength it must have taken for Sanji to come out. 

Zoro… Zoro doesn’t really react. He nods at the cook when she looks his way, but Zoro doesn’t really know what to say. He’s confused, too, because he doesn’t really know what feeling like a man or woman is like, and he’s never even heard about that “somewhere in between” that Sanji was talking about earlier.

The rest of the crew moves on quickly. Zoro is the only one left who hasn’t shared his whereabouts, and he knows the crew will enjoy this. Not only was Zoro staying with and training under his greatest rival, but that ghost girl too. As expected, Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper get a kick out of that. Zoro pushes his worries about Sanji’s coming out to the back of his mind and focuses on enjoying his time with his family before Luffy inevitably drags them into some mess again.

The descent to Sabaody takes forever; long enough for Sanji to prepare and serve dinner. It’s actually quite a meal, featuring each of the Straw Hats’ favorite dishes – meat on the bone, cheeseburgers, sandwiches, even rice balls for Zoro. It is great to be home, defending his food from Luffy’s sticky hands and dodging the peas that Usopp has been launching across the table. Dinners on the Sunny are no calm event, but Zoro loves it. He loves the chaos of it all.

Normally, Zoro is one of the first few out of the kitchen. He usually has something better to be doing like training, napping, or getting pulled into playing tag with Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper. But Zoro has questions, about Sanji’s whole gender thing, and he can’t just ask that in front of everyone. Hell, it’s embarrassing enough to ask the cook about it. 

Zoro sits at the table long after he’s finished his dinner, even after everyone has left. He watches as the cook cleans up and washes dishes, ignoring Zoro’s stare the whole time. She doesn’t even try to start a fight, which is unusual, because usually if Zoro stares for that long it’s like asking for a shoe to the face.

Finally, Sanji has apparently had enough. The dishes are washed, dried, and put away. There is nothing else to do in the kitchen, so they turn to Zoro, planting their hands on the island bar and leaning over.

“I’ll bite, is there a reason why you’re watching me, marimo?” He starts. It carries the usual tone of annoyance, but maybe a little more. “This ain’t about earlier, is it? Better not be, cause I will–”

Zoro interrupts by shaking his head. “It’s not… Well, it’s not what you’re thinking. I just. I don’t get it,” he mumbles, staring down at the table in front of him, one hand coming up to play with his earrings the way he does when he’s stressed. He can still feel Sanji staring at him, and he waves his hand, gesturing at nothing. “The, uh, the gender thing. I’m having trouble understanding it. I want to understand it.” He looks up, meeting Sanji’s eyes. Sanji sighs.

“Ok, well which part don’t you get? I don’t really know how else to explain it, other than what I said earlier. Sometimes I feel like a man, sometimes a woman, sometimes in between.” Sanji starts. He speaks slowly, as if he were explaining this to a baby or something. Slightly annoying, but Zoro doesn’t push it.

Zoro furrows his brow, frustrated about the explanation, because it doesn’t really explain anything . At least, not the way Zoro needs. “That’s the thing! What the hell does feeling like a man feel like?”

Sanji falls quiet. “The hell do you mean?” Zoro can hear the usual burning edge to her words, the fight he’s used to. He doesn’t want to make Sanji mad, goddamnit, he wants to understand! Sanji takes an angry hit of their cigarette, blowing smoke in Zoro’s direction. Zoro glares back.

“I mean, how do you know when you’re a man? Since you’re other things sometimes, how do you tell the difference?”

“What’s this about, marimo?”

“Just.. Just answer the question! My reason doesn’t matter!”

“Okay, just… give me a minute, okay? It’s a weird ass question, you caught me off guard.” Zoro nods and leans back on the bench, satisfied for now. Sanji sits down on one of the barstools, spinning slowly as they think.

“I mean, to start off, did you know all this gender thing is fake?” Sanji speaks up after a moment, stopping so he is facing Zoro. “One of my, uh, friends? Yeah, one of my friends back in Kamabakka told me that everything we know about gender is just gender roles. It’s what we tell each gender they’re supposed to do or feel, not what gender actually is. Like, some people think women are just supposed to cook and clean and be quiet while men are supposed to go off and make money for the family. The way my old geezer raised me, women are better than men, and we’re supposed to protect and serve them in any way we can. It’s really different from person to person.”

Sanji pauses to take another hit as she continues. “Let's see… To me, being a man still feels more like responsibility. But there's more, too. Masculinity is loud and brash, it’s like a jungle or like the sea during a storm. The way my legs heat up when I do Diable Jambe, that feels manly too. But it’s different from when I feel like a woman; that’s all light and airy and stuff. It’s like helping Nami-san take care of her tangerines, or laughing with my crew and getting compliments on my food. Femininity is like caring for people, while masculinity is taking responsibility. And then there’s some times when it’s more than that… when I feel charged up and everything is uncertain but it doesn’t need to make sense. It’s like the early mornings when I’m the only one awake, or the moment before lightning strikes.” Sanji pauses, smiling, clearly patting themself on the back. “Eh, I’ve never had to think about how to describe it all before. I think Iva-san would be proud. That help at all, marimo?”

Zoro sits silent for a while, trying to take it all in. He’s never felt like… like a forest, or a storm, or like his legs are heating up. He had taken responsibility for things plenty of times, but it wasn’t related to his gender or anything, it was just what he had to do. There’s one thing that definitely stands out about Sanji’s descriptions, though.

“So, being a man, it doesn’t ever feel like you’re just performing it? It’s not like a job?” 

Sanji just… blinks at Zoro, then they stand up and start moving around the kitchen again. He pulls down a mug and starts brewing some tea. Zoro isn’t a big tea person, but he still understands the gesture.

“No, it doesn’t feel like a job.” Sanji finally says after filling the kettle and placing it on the stove. “It used to, though. Before I discovered all of this, and the possibility that I could just not be a man. You feel like it is?”

Zoro ignores Sanji’s gaze, suddenly very interested in the top of the dinner table. He knows Sanji understands, though, as she continues to talk. “I won’t press you, cause god knows I hated it when Iva-san did that to me. But just think about it, okay? There’s a lot out there, and the crew won’t care, you saw them today.” Sanji pauses to place the mug of tea in front of Zoro. “I won’t tell anyone either. But don’t start expecting me to be nice to you or anything! We’re still enemies!” 

Zoro grins. He knows that he and Sanji aren’t really enemies, they haven’t been in a long time. Sanji learning to accept themself had helped the both of them a lot, and they’re closer to friends at this point. Sanji knows it too, but they have reputations to keep! Still, it’s pretty nice. Sanji doesn’t treat Zoro like it’s anything weird or shameful, he just understands and explains and lets it be. She nods at Zoro, straightening up to leave the kitchen. “Oh, and you’re washing your own mug! Don’t get lost on the way to the cabinets, marimo!” she adds as an afterthought, ducking out of the doorway before Zoro can send him a glare. 

----------

 Zoro stands outside the door to Robin’s library, mug of tea in hand, for about ten minutes, just trying to work up the courage to enter. He feels so stupid, being scared to ask his crewmate to borrow a book. While talking with Sanji had helped, just a little, Zoro still has a lot of questions.

He is staring into his mug weighing his options and thinking that he might just come back tomorrow when Robin opens the door. She seems surprised to see him, almost dropping the book in her hands. As usual, she recovers gracefully, donning her usual closed-eye smile.

“My, it’s certainly rare to see you here, Swordsman-san. Is there something I can help you with?” she greets, holding the door open and beckoning Zoro inside.

“Uh, yeah, but if you were leaving–” Zoro tries to deflect. I’m not ready for this, he thinks. He hasn’t felt so uncertain in a long time.

“Oh, I insist!” Robin asserts. “It’s no trouble at all. What can I help you with?”

Zoro looks up at her, at her kind eyes and non-judgemental smile. He knows that Sanji was right last night when they told him that the crew wouldn’t mind if Zoro ended up not being a man. He knows that Robin, especially, wouldn’t mind. He recalls a day from two years ago, when Luffy had suddenly found interest in the book Robin was reading and she had confessed she was transgender as well. That moment had felt so inconsequential back then; it was just another instance of Zoro’s captain and crew bonding. But today, it feels like a lifeline.

Zoro takes a deep breath to steady himself. “Yeah, actually, I was looking for a book. I don’t know the name though.”

“That’s no problem at all. Do you know what kind of book it is?” Robin asks. 

Zoro scratches at the back of his head. “Uh, yeah. Do you remember that book you and Luffy were reading a couple years ago? He just wanted to look at the pictures, though, I think.”

Robin brings one hand up to hide her lips as she takes a tiny gasp. “Yes, I know exactly which book you’re talking about. Let me go pull it down for you.” Robin pats Zoro’s shoulders as she walks away, gesturing at the benches that surround the library. “You can take a seat, if you want. I can leave you alone, too. I’ll just continue my own reading.”

Zoro sits and nods, feeling a little overwhelmed. He hadn’t planned on telling Robin why he was here, exactly, but Robin knows everything anyways and he does find her company to be very comforting. Robin is something like what Zoro imagines an older sister might be like.

“I, uh. I think I would like that, but…” Zoro is unsure of what he’s asking, letting his voice drop out as he continues thinking.

“I’ll stay down here the whole time, if that’s what you want. And you can always ask for help.” Robin pats Zoro’s shoulder again as she passes him the book. “I’m just across the room, okay?”

Zoro is grateful, so grateful for Robin’s easy going nature. He shudders a bit as he opens the book, looking for the chapter on gender identities.

The first thing Zoro notices is just how many there are. There’s like, a thousand, each one with a different name and flag and description. It’s a lot for him to take in at once.

Breathe, Zoro, something in the back of his mind tells him. Just go through it one at a time. Zoro sighs. He already knows he isn’t trans the way that Luffy and Robin are, and he’s pretty sure he’s not genderfluid the way the cook is either. That narrows down his search, at least a little.

As Zoro flips through the pages, he just finds himself feeling more and more lost and frustrated. All these terms are swimming around in his head. And to make matters worse, a lot of them seem to rely on what a person is already feeling. Zoro… Zoro doesn’t actually know what he’s feeling. He’s had this vague notion that he wasn’t quite a man for a long time, but he’s also been acting as one for long enough that it still feels like part of him. He’s getting tempted to just slam the book closed and call it a night, but he really doesn’t want to find out what happens if he mistreats Robin’s books. He has a feeling it won’t be pretty.

“Are you doing alright over there, Swordsman-san?” Robin calls, momentarily stirring Zoro from his thoughts. She has worry written all over her face. “You seem a bit frustrated.”

“I am, but I’m okay.” Zoro reassures her as he continues reading. Then, he hits upon the definition.

Agender , the book reads. A person who feels a lack of a gender identity, or does not feel a strong relation to any gender identity. An absence of gender.

There is a second paragraph below, from an agender person describing how they feel about their own identity. It was really hard for me to figure out for a long time, the author starts , because I just didn’t want to face it. I was comfortable enough living with my own assigned gender. But whenever I think of myself and the words I would use to describe myself, my gender isn’t one of them. I was raised one way, sure, but that is as far as the connection goes. I don’t feel like a man or a woman, I just feel like me.

Zoro chokes on his breath. He studies the image of the flag next to it, and another memory from two years ago pops up in his head. “This flag looks like Zoro,” Luffy had said, and Robin agreed because of the colors. The agender flag has green, white, and black stripes. This is the flag that matched him two years ago, and now with the definition…

Zoro breathes in quickly. His heart is racing, hammering against his ribcage like a drum. He thinks back to what Sanji told him earlier, about sometimes feeling like more than a man or a woman. Zoro hadn’t understood it then, still doesn’t really grasp it. But he knows that he doesn’t feel what Sanji was describing. But if nothing is an option…

When Zoro tries to think about his gender identity, it is just his role as a man. He does what men do because that’s how he was raised, that’s what everyone told him to be. That’s his only connection to it. If he thinks any further than that… there’s nothing. He’s always just felt like Zoro , not Zoro the man or Zoro the woman or Zoro the anything else. Just Zoro, nothing more.

Agender. It certainly seems to fit.

And that thought is so world-changing, so scary, so new that Zoro doesn’t know how to handle it. Consequences be damned, he shuts the book quickly and tosses it onto the table, rushing out of the library. Robin stands up and calls after him, but Zoro just ignores her. All he wants to do is run, run away to when things were simpler, when he didn’t have to think about being different. He hurries into the boy’s room and huddles in his bunk, ignoring his crew for the rest of the night.

----------

Fishman Island is a disaster, of course, complete with princesses, some of Arlong’s disciples, and some very valuable revelations about the Poneglyphs for Robin. Zoro does his best to turn his brain off and focus on drinking the castle dry, eating delicious food prepared by the royal staff, and fighting. He ignores the whole gender issue. It wasn’t important for the first twenty-one years of Zoro’s life, so it can’t be that important now.

Sure, the realization that Zoro didn’t have to be a man was a weight off his shoulders. He didn’t have to “perform” if he wasn’t a man. But Zoro had almost gotten comfortable in the performance. He pretty much knew how to be a man. Why try to change things if they were working out already?

It becomes much harder to ignore after they resurface. Out on the open ocean, Zoro can’t rely on enemies to take his frustrations out on. He has to actually face this himself.

He’s especially irritable that day, mostly hiding in the bunk room and trying to nap. Zoro is usually very good at napping, but he can’t seem to calm his mind. No matter how much he tries to avoid thinking about it, the question of Zoro’s gender identity never leaves his mind.

He spots Robin and Sanji having a hushed discussion in the kitchen that afternoon. He just wanted a beer, because maybe the alcohol could push his thoughts back, but as soon as he enters the kitchen Robin and Sanji jump apart. Zoro doesn’t hear any of their discussion, but he has a pretty good idea what it might be about.

Luffy is the one to finally approach Zoro. He does it at night, when most of the crew has already gone to bed, except for Brook keeping watch in the crow’s nest. Zoro is leaning over the rail, flicking bottle caps over Sunny’s edge so he can watch them hit the water far below.

Luffy doesn’t say anything at first, just slowly walks up to Zoro and stands next to him. Zoro knows Luffy is watching him, analyzing him in that weird way he does. Luffy somehow knows things about people that they don’t yet know about themselves just from watching them, and usually Zoro really admires that, but he doesn’t want that knowing gaze turned on him. Especially not now.

But at the same time, it’s Luffy. Luffy who would never even dream of doing anything that might hurt his crew. Luffy, who sees the best in people, who has never judged his friends. Not when Nami claimed she was one of Arlong’s pirates, not when Robin was framed for shooting Iceburg, not when Usopp almost let his insecurities separate him from the crew. Luffy had nothing bad to say to Robin or Sanji when they came out, and he wouldn’t have anything bad to say to Zoro, either.

Zoro throws the last of his bottle caps overboard. There’s no way to avoid this. He sighs and sits down, back against the railing, and Luffy follows him down.

“What’s up, Zoro? Has something been on your mind?” Luffy starts.

“Luffy, how did you know you were a boy?” Zoro deflects. It doesn’t begin to address Zoro’s own issues, but he just needs to ease in for now.

Luffy looks a little surprised, but doesn’t push Zoro. “I actually always thought I was a boy. I didn’t know that my body was different to the other boys I knew, and I didn’t understand why people treated me differently when they met me. Everyone in the village called me a tomboy, so I thought I was a boy.” Luffy’s face softens for a moment, and he lets out a small laugh. “I really surprised Dadan and Ace the first time she tried to give us a bath. But when I told them I was a boy just like Ace, they didn’t push it, and they let me grow up as a boy.” Luffy trails off a little, but nods when he finishes his thought. He looks at Zoro again, and Zoro swears those eyes are seeing right through him. “Are you… questioning? Do you think you might not be a boy?” He asks, cutting straight through the bullshit and right to the core of Zoro’s problem.

All Zoro can do is nod weakly and stare at the floor. “I asked Sanji for help and she helped me a little, and I asked Robin to look at her books but it all just made me more frustrated. I don’t want to face myself, right now. It all just feels wrong.” Zoro’s face feels hot, he isn’t used to this kind of heart-to-heart and he’s starting to feel really embarrassed and–

Luffy reaches out, crossing the divide between them, and places his hand on Zoro’s. “You’re still the same Zoro you were before, right? Nothing’s gonna change, we’re just gonna see you as you.”

Zoro lifts his head up and stares at Luffy. He knows his jaw is hanging open, and he can’t bring himself to close it. Still the same Zoro… how does Luffy always know just the right thing to say?

“Do you want me to go get Robin’s book? We can look at it again, maybe I can help–”

Zoro shakes his head and smiles at Luffy. “No, it’s okay. I think I know which one I am. I was scared, though, about what it might change. I don’t want to change.”

Luffy laughs. “Nothing is going to change, Zoro. Well, hopefully you feel happier, cause you get to be who you really are. But that’s not scary, that’s a good thing!” Luffy’s eyes are bright and his hand is warm on Zoro’s.

“Yeah… happier, huh.” Zoro breathes out. He never really thought about what comes after his realization, but happiness… well that always sounds nice. Under the moonlight, with Luffy holding his hand and watching over him, Zoro is a little less scared to face himself and the truth that he has probably known this whole time.

“Well, Captain…” Zoro stops himself, clears his throat, and starts again. Right now, this is a conversation between friends, not captain and crew. “Well, Luffy… I’m not a boy. I’m agender.”

Luffy is on him in a second, wrapping him in a tight hug and threatening to knock them both overboard. Luffy is laughing and so is Zoro as they rearrange themselves to sit side-by-side, now looking out over the water.

“I’m proud of you, Zoro.” Luffy whispers, and Zoro feels warm in spite of himself. “So, do you know what this means from now on? Are you gonna change how we refer to you, like Sanji did?”

Zoro stills. He has been so caught up in denying everything, he never thought about what comes next. Slowly, he shakes his head. “I… I haven’t thought about it yet.”

“That’s okay! You can think about it now.” Luffy swings his legs over the side of the ship and leans into Zoro’s side. “Are you feeling better now? Do you wanna tell everyone soon?”

Zoro ponders it for a minute. He is feeling better, a lot better than when Luffy had found him. He knows the crew will be accepting, just like they were for Luffy and Robin and Sanji. If telling everyone can finally get this weight off of Zoro’s chest, he’s ready. He leans into Luffy, feeling the rough texture of the straw hat tickle his cheek. “Yeah, I think I’ll be ready soon. Thank you, Luffy.”

“It’s no problem, Zoro.”

Even after his talk with Luffy, the idea of coming out is still terrifying. Normally, the words “Zoro” and “scared” don’t even go in the same sentence. But there is something so much more real, more personal, about this. Zoro’s gender isn’t some enemy he can cut up. It’s him. And he’s trying to adjust to this new view of himself.

He talks to Robin first. He thanks her for letting him use her book, and apologizes for slamming it shut. He tells her how he knew that the term agender fit him, but that it freaked him out, and he tells her about his talk with Luffy. Robin is a patient listener, and she tells Zoro that she doesn’t blame him. “I figured that you saw something that fit you. I also had a hard time accepting myself. It’s normal to be unsure and afraid, but thank you for telling me.” She reassures.

His talk with Sanji isn’t as calm or patient, but it gets the job done. He thanks Sanji for helping him figure things out, using as few words as he can. Sanji teases back, but nothing she says is hurtful. They just acknowledge that Zoro feels differently, but there’s nothing to say about it, really. Zoro appreciates that sort of understanding.

Nami tells the crew that their next island is about three days away, provided that nothing gets in their way. Slim chance of nothing getting in their way, but Zoro is thankful to know. He spends three days getting comfortable. He tries out different pronouns in secret with Robin, Luffy, and Sanji, and he is pleased to realize that being referred to as “they” doesn’t feel as weird as he thought it would. 

Zoro finally tells the crew over dinner on the third day. Sanji made rice bowls; a giant pot of rice and three different kinds of meat as well as tons of veggies for the crew to choose from. Zoro loves rice bowls almost as much as rice balls, but he’s sure he never told Sanji that. Sanji doesn’t mention it, so Zoro doesn’t either.

Zoro had already told Luffy and Robin he was going to do it tonight, so they are sitting on either side of him. Luffy is playing with Zoro’s free hand under the table, waiting for Zoro’s signal to call attention to him.

Zoro nods at Luffy, signaling that he’s ready. Well, he’s not, but it’s now or never. Time to take the leap.

Luffy sets his silverware down and addresses the rest of the table. “Hey, everyone, Zoro has something to say. He’s nervous, so be nice.” The last sentence is teasing, and everyone knows it. They aren’t going to be mean to Zoro, and considering how similar his nervous energy was to Sanji’s just a few weeks ago, they have an inkling of what Zoro might need to tell them.

“I don’t know how to start this,” Zoro admits. Luffy takes off his hat and plops it down on Zoro’s head, and the gesture is so meaningful , it gives Zoro the push he needs. Zoro forges on ahead.

“Ok, uh, I guess it starts with the cook. A few days ago, when they came out, it uh… it kinda impacted me a lot too. I didn’t actually know that there was anything other than just man and woman, so it made me question a lot of things.” Sanji’s face looks weird; it’s red like she’s embarrassed but there’s a hint of… happiness? somewhere in there. Robin rubs Zoro’s back to encourage him.

“Well, once I knew I wasn’t just limited to being a man, it made a lot of things from my past make sense. I’ve never exactly felt like a man, I just did it because I thought it’s what I had to do. So what I’m saying is I’m not a man, I’m not really anything, in fact. I’m agender. No gender, just me.”

Luffy is smiling next to him and Robin and Chopper are both wrapping him in a hug. Nami teases Zoro about how emotional he’s become, but she’s proud of him too. So is everyone else. It’s a lot… but it’s still nice. Sanji just nods approvingly, and it reminds Zoro of how he reacted to Sanji’s coming out.

Before anyone else can ask Zoro, he speaks up again. “Oh, and for the pronoun thing. It’s he/they. Kinda like the cook’s, but no she.” Everyone nods and accepts it.

Zoro really, really loves their crew. They never thought they would reach this level of happiness, of acceptance. He supposes he should have known when Luffy accepted his dream without any argument, accepted everyone’s dreams no matter how crazy they were. Once Luffy declares someone as nakama , he is never letting go, and Zoro is so grateful that he chose to follow someone like that. They couldn’t dream of a life that was any different.

Zoro is feeling a bit awkward, so he’s glad when other conversations pick back up and dinner resumes. Usopp asks Zoro if this means they’re gonna be the world’s greatest swords person , and Zoro says that’s stupid, and the table fills with laughter. The night is still young and Zoro is surrounded by people they love and nothing has ever felt better.

[allnightstay]

Day 3 - Prank

Prank Gone Wrong

Summary: Naruto thinks he's gotten to the point where he can prank Kakashi but little does he know...

Lee: Naruto

Ler: Kakashi

** I love a little sensei/student moment. Hope you enjoy!

Naruto spent the entire morning, bright and early, setting up a ground-based booby trap that he would eventually lure his Sensei into during their upcoming practice. He was very confident in his trickery as the day had been April 1st, the all-well-knowing April Fools Day.

The goal of this practice was for Naruto to evade Kakashi for a total of 10 minutes, using whatever means necessary for him to accomplish the task.

Kakashi gave him a head start, counting to ten before going after Naruto, knowing his level should make this quite an easy mission. Kakashi counts to ten, and heads into the forest.

Naruto on the other hand, went straight for the location he placed his trap, thinking he'd be laughing at his Sensei being trapped for ten whole minutes before letting him go.

Within moments, Naruto found himself hiding for what felt like way too long. Deciding to move, Naruto shoots up for a higher branch to try and spot Kakashi.

Meanwhile, Kakashi had been right behind him the entire time.

"Boo." Kakashi said rather bluntly, scaring the ever living sh*t out of Naruto, who screams and jumps down, running at full speed.

"Crap." he thought, "How long was he even behind me for??" Naruto felt even more determined to lead his Sensei into his trap. He circles around, knowing Kakashi was right on his tail, and moves in a way that he wouldn't get caught but maybe Kakashi will.

Kakashi does the same move.

"Dammit!" Naruto says to himself, finding another maneuver to reattempt his trap.

Kakashi is suddenly out of sight, making Naruto feel uneasy. Where did he go?

Boom!

"What the??" Before Naruto even realized what happened, he found himself dangling upside, feet tied up and... awww man. He'd been caught in his own trap.

"How!?" he yells, they weren't even that close to the trap when he was struck.

"You really think I didn't notice your trap from the beginning? Come on Naruto, I'm much more perceptive than you think apparently." Kakashi says, sitting next to Naruto with the latest edition of Make Out Paradise.

"Nawww man!! I had everything planned out perfectly!" yelled Naruto, "This is totally unfair!!"

Kakashi closed his book and stands in front of Naruto.

"Unfair? What's unfair is you thinking you could ask for a training session only to think you'd be fooling me. It is April Fools, Naruto. You of all people would be the one to try something like this." Kakashi says, poking Naruto's stomach.

Naruto shudders and squeals a sound Kakashi has never heard before.

"Hmm. How much time do we have left? About 7 minutes. Naruto, you do realize you have 7 minutes to get away right?"

"Seriously?? Kakashi Sensei can't you just untie me? The knot is too complicated from this angle." Naruto asks. Technically his hands are free. He could just untie himself but he did set up the trap to have a rather difficult knot tie.

"Try it yourself. This is the training you asked for." Kakashi says, poking him in the ribs this time, thinking of something rather funny to try instead.

Naruto laughs and moves his arms to block himself, "Aha Kakashi Sensei, I can't get out if you keep on poking meheheAHAHAHA!! KAKASHI SENSEIHAHAHAY!!"

At this point, Kakashi has full blown started tickling Naruto's upper body, deciding this would be his punishment for what he tried to pull on him.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get yourself out." Kakashi says in a voice that's as though nothing is happening.

"AHAHAHA I CAHAHAHAN'T!!!"

"Hmmm... I'm pretty sure you can though. Your hands are free afterall."

"KAHAHAHASHII AHAHHA SENSEIIHEHEHEY!!"

"Yes?"

"PLEHEHEHEHEASE LET ME GOHOHO!!"

"Mmnoooo, I think that's what you're supposed to do, not me."

Kakashi vibrates his ribs, switching to prodding his hips, squeezing his knees, all while holding him still with his other hand as Naruto has begun swinging a bit.

Naruto moves his hands and arms attempting to block Kakashi as much as possible, occasionally bending upward to try and untie his feet but failing every time due to Kakashi's brutal punishment.

"You have about ... 3 more minutes Naruto. You can still pass this training if you get out quick enough."

"OHOHO STOP IHIHIHIT!! I CAHAHAHAN'T!!" AHAHAHHAHA PLEHEHEAHAHAH!!"

It was too difficult to even bend upward from hanging that way in the first place, but being mercilessly tickled at the same time was mission impossible.

The timer goes off, and Kakashi comes to a halt.

"Awww look at that Naruto. I guess you didn't make it in time."

"YEAH WELL I WONDER WHY!!" Shouts Naruto whose now breathing heavily to catch his breath, still hanging there slightly swinging.

"Now whose fault is that?" Kakashi states, moving to sit back down and read his book.

"Are you going to get me out of this??"

"Nope. That's your problem Naruto. I'll give you 5 more minutes before we start up again."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN START UP AGAIN??" Naruto shouts, frantically attempting to untie himself.

Let's just say the end result is up to you 😉

Ahhh I'm so behind!! Hope you enjoyed!!

[moonglide]

echoes of wisdom hours 12 & 13

-spoilers for end of the hyrule castle quest and for the goron quest, up until the dungeon.

-i fought ganon. i died to magic tennis. again. that's 9.

-realized that to survive magic tennis, i needed to go far away from ganon to have enough reaction time.

-i beat ganon! echo ganon, i guess.

-tri, you say that our opponent must have the echo power? gosh! who'd've thunk it? t'weren't like i suggested that or something.

-as we ascend to leave the wall BREAKS. i was scared. i did not want another boss fight.

-link comes out to save us with a baseball bat????

-oh he gets crystalled. nooooo

-the shadowy figure with claws is kinda creepy. it's probably that (endgame spoilers, probably) null guy people keep mentioning.

-god i love how supportive the king is. botw zelda would've killed for that kind of praise.

-love how i go back and i'm like whelp. time to sleep.

-wait can i echo my own bed??? I can!!! and it heals two hearts!!! i forgot to mention when i got the gerudo bed, but it was so useful. and now this is more useful!

-kitty!!! hello almond. how was being abducted into the shadow realm?

-throne room.

-hold up. rift in eldin volcano, sure. rift in faron wetlands, sure. rift in holy mount lanayru??? excuse me? where is that. there is only so much room on the map for a big-ass mountain.

-oh it's the region i thought was hebra. ok.

-prime energy? excuse me? just call it the triforce like a normal person.

-hi impa! what quest do you have for me?

-the pretty white horse is MY horse??? sweet! thank u impa.

-teleported to the ranch. horse is missing. can't find it. someone please tell me where the horse is. are they hiding the horse? will the ranch hands give it back if i apologize for making fun of them for their horse-finding skills?

-whatever.

-where to go first? I don't want to go to lanayru, because, you know. it's holy. it's wisdom. it's cold. it's definately meant to be last.

-i think i want to do eldin first because the gorons seem like the least serious. fun little volcano excursion instead of tangling with wood spirits in the mystical forest.

-kakariko! man is missing his cat. i get the cat outfit! it's fun.

-honestly i like the disguise more than the gear the king gave me.

-also since im in kakariko, let me talk about the slumber dojo real quick. i checked on ao3 for echoes of wisdom fics. guess what the one with the most kudos is. guess what. it's the slumber dojo guy banging zelda while she's sleeping. come on guys. i'm a lil disappointed but i'm not at all surprised.

edit: ok so it ain't anymore. but it was yesterday.

-found a fairy flower! how fun

-speaking of fairies, time to become more s t y l i s h

-damn you expect me to expand my accessory limit? in this economy? inflation is crazy. she jacked up her price by 3x. i still did it tho.

-business shrub! i made like ten smoothies.

-i finally made an unappealing one. it's two rocks. i understand that. but why does two sticks of butter make a radiant smoothie? that's not radiant. that's just gross.

-completed a small rift before i got to goron city. was i supposed to? idk. it never came up.

-oh dalton (or whatever his name is) is sweet. bro needs a confidance boost.

-went to the rock roast first. it was quick.

-lizalfos second. can't believe dalton's a nerd. i love it

-i was gonna use the echo that pushes out in all directions, but instead i sent out a redead and a tornando. it worked.

-sorry for destroying your dead dad's portrait. my b.

-ohhh i fly by grabbing the bird. that makes sense. i thought riding echoes would be something i needed to unlock.

-dalton how did you get here. you can't fly. i don't understand.

-bro is like 'according to my calculations' but my dude. you are just punching a rock. it is not that complicated.

-for a second i thought nugget of wisdom 52 was just 'HYAHHHHH!' and i cackled because that's just so goron. but apparently the shout was just a little interuption before the actual nugget. sad.

-tri wdym the limit is two. where did that come from.

-also i totally died again at one point. i don't remember what it was, but i remember i died. so that's 10.

-fave echo: ignacio or albatrawl.

-death count: 10.

[lookwhatyoudidithasanxiety]

//Sorry for the sudden silence! I just realized that I missed the blog's anniversary! As of July 30th, i's officially been a year since I first made the ask blog. Thank you to everyone that's been around and has interacted with the characters. It's been a lot of fun and I've loved interacting and talking with all of you!

To kick off another year, have a mini blurb (because I can't write a short story currently and I'm still working on answering asks)// //EDIT: There's officially over a hundred of you??? I don't know what to say other than thank you all so so much!! The blurb will be under a read more since it's so long//

Sun: It's been a year already? It's hard to believe.

Lunar: So much has happened!

Eclipse: I have no idea what they even have planned for me. I'm not even in the actual story yet.

Solar: Ya think any of us know what they're planning?

Eclipse: ...Fair.

Moon: Are you guys coming or what? We're taking a picture.

Poppy: Hold your horses! Some of us are a bit slower than others, friend!

Kill Code: Would you like a hand?

Poppy: *blushes* Oh, no thank you, kind sir! Now bumblebee, straighten out your shirt. The daycare logo is all crooked.

Solar: Thanks, Poppy.

Poppy: You're welcome!

Lunar: It's hard to believe it's been a year. And last year there was only five of us!

Sun: Yeah, ten is definitely a lot more than five. And something tells me that isn't all of us, either.

Lunar Who knows! I like things better now, though. I'm glad we have everyone! We'll, everyone but-

Midnight: Yeah, yeah. Just stick me in the back. I ain't stayin' long. Goddamn stupid-

//Mun God hopes that Midnight is not about to make any sort of derogatory statement towards his Eclipse, let alone Mun God. And certainly not towards Quill.//

/Yeah, what they said! ....Wait, me too??/

//Mun God does not want to discuss this further with Quill.//

/But...ok. *blushes*/

Midnight: I ain't sayin' sh-

//Mun God hates to inform Midnight that they can no longer speak- at least, not until after the photo is taken. Midnight understands, correct??//

Midnight: *glares*

Harvest: Brother, your tie is crooked.

Bloody: Ughhhhh bloody pain and bother! Why need?

Harvest: *chuckles* It's just for a picture, then you can get rid of it. I promise.

Bloody: Don't like.

Harvest: Neither do I, but we can chase squirrels later, if you want.

Bloody: ....

Harvest: I'll throw in the new nylabone I bought you.

Bloody: Ok!

Moon: Geez, how do you even work this thing?

Sun: I think you need to set it up to your internal camera? That way you can take the picture without a timer.

Moon: But then I'll be blinking in the picture.

Sun: Hm...Clip? Any ideas?

Solar: Give it here, I'll do it.

Moon: You don't have to-

Solar: Least I can do. Just lemme work with it.

Lunar: Chip! Can I help?!

Solar: *smiles* Nah, but I appreciate it.

Midnight: *flips him off*

Solar: Uh...why ain't he talkin'?

//Mun God is unsure, it certainly is strange...//

/Melpomene! Be nice!/

//Mun God does not know what Quill means./

/Come on! It's bad enough you won't tell them about-/

Poppy: Ooh! Are we going to talk about when Solar gets-

/Oh! But what about when Eclipse finally realizes-/

//Mun God does not want to silence Quill and Poppy, but Mun God will if that is what it takes to avoid future events being spoiled.//

Poppy: Oops! Sorry, Melpomene!

//.....It is alright.//

/Aw, you're soft!/

//Mun God wants Quill to shut up.//

Kill Code: Eclipse. Perhaps it would help if you-

Eclipse: What?

Solar: What?

Kill Code: Apologies, I was talking to Solar.

Eclipse: *scoffs, rolls his eyes* Of course you were.

Kill Code: Son, I do not mean to slight you.

Eclipse: Whatever.

Solar: 'Clipse? You wanna help me with this? I don't know what I'm doin'.

Eclipse: *straightens up with a smile* 'Course you don't. Dumbass.

Solar: *smiles and hands him the camera* Least I can see what I'm doin'.

Eclipse: What's that supposed to-

Solar: *smirks* Kinda hard ta see when yer close ta the ground.

Eclipse: You son of a-

Poppy: I wish I was in my physical form...I was hoping I could hug Sol.

/I'm sorry...maybe when we do an ask event in the future? Maybe we could do one where we go back in time when you and Solar were still sharing a body?/

Poppy: *smiles gently* I would like that, thank you!

/We'll see!/

Midnight: *growls*

Kill Code: *picks him up by the hook* So you are the one who hurt Solar...*snarls*

Midnight: *stares in fear*

Solar: 'S alright, KC. Mun God has 'im on a leash. He can't talk.

Kill Code: Is that so? Well, then it is the perfect opportunity for me to say what needs said-

Eclipse: Gods, Moon. Could you have gotten a more complicated camera?

Moon: Blame Fazbear! It's the only one I could find!

Eclipse: Christ on a stick....Finally! Alright. Everyone gather around, it's time. I'm not doing this more than once.

Sun: Ok, ok, Lunar stand here, then Moon, Solar go between me and the twins, Eclipse by Lunar in the front, KC in the back, Poppy with KC, Midnight...

Midnight: *glares where Kill Code is still holding him*

Sun: ...Stay there. Perfect.

Eclipse: I'm doing one countdown. Blink now or forever hold your peace. Ten-

Sun: Nine!

Moon: Eight.

Lunar: Seven!

Bloody: Six!

Harvest: Five!

Solar: Four.

Poppy: Three!

Kill Code: Two.

Midnight:

Thank you for one year!

[talkingismylifewrites]

I was so happy to check back into Tumblr for the first time in ages and see a dyldyl update. My favorite fan fiction of all time and it’s not even close 😭 I know it’s still in editing, but I’m so ready for the Taylor honeymoon when it gets here. I’ve been looking forward to this chapter for years! Can you give us any hints? Any indication as to your favorite scene? I’m desperate for crumbs lolol

Hello hello!! Thank you so much for your patience! It means so much to me that after three years yall still love dyldyl as much as I do 😭

Editing is coming along! Still a little slow but hey that’s show biz baby. As a reward for your patience, I can offer you a teeny little snippet of the honeymoon!! Peep the snippet below 😘

Crystal fishtailed back onto the road, kicking up gravel and dirt as he turned back the way they came. Without looking away from the road he threw the map back into Roger’s lap, finger jabbing down in the general direction of where they needed to go.

“Genoa, Roger, we’re going to Genoa. Make sure we get there, alright?”

“What the fuck is even in Genoa?” Roger grunted as he righted the map, squinting down at the crisscross of streets and motorways. Despite the years of travel and countless countries they’d traveled through, Roger was man enough to admit that map reading was not one of his talents.

“Topless beaches,” said Crystal, eyes glued to the road and hands at ten-and-two. “Topless women, as far as the eye can see.”

Roger dropped the map. “Topless— are you joking?”

“I never joke about topless women.”

“Crystal, have you forgotten that I’m in a relationship with a man?” Roger sputtered. “What am I supposed to do with topless women?”

“Sit back and enjoy the view!”

“I like men, Crystal, every beach is a fucking topless beach for me!”

Crystal finally tore his eyes off the road in order to glare at Roger. “Who said this had anything to do with you? You’re only here to get away from John—” Roger flinched. “ — and I am doing this solely for selfish reasons, okay? I want to go to the topless beaches. You’re just along for the ride, mate.”

“No! No, okay, this is ridiculous! We’re not going to Genoa!”

“I’m driving!”

“I have the map!”

“Can you— Jesus, Roger. For once in your goddamned life can you think of anyone but yourself?” Crystal snarled. “I did not put my life and career on the line driving you away from your problems for you to take away the one goddamn thing I want! I want to go to Genoa and sit on the beach and see some very nice Italian tits, and you can either come with or you can— you can get out!”

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Crystal’s hands gripping the wheel tightly.

He considered for a moment calling his bluff. To demand that he pull over and find Roger a pay phone where he could call Miami, claim it was all a mistake and could he send a car to Lichtenstein, por favor. But then, something came over him. Call it sympathy, gratitude, the desperate need to out-run a house in Munich with hidden photographs and separate beds; he decided that it was better to go along with topless beaches than the alternative.

“I do really like pizza,” Roger finally admitted after an age. “And garlic bread.”

“Both are good,” said Crystal, the barest hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. “Heard they’ve got good wine, too.”

“And the Italians,” Roger added. “Gorgeous.”

“I know.”

“I guess we can continue to Genoa,” he sighed as though it pained him. “But only for the pasta.”

“Pasta is delicious.”

“And I want a cannoli,” Roger added.

“I thought the only cannoli you were interested in was John’s,” Crystal said, tone snide and eyes wicked. Normally, the pun would make Roger bark a laugh, maybe punch his arm in retaliation. Instead, it settled deep like a stone in his stomach, churning like the sea in a storm.

Crystal seemed to realize his mistake the moment it left his mouth. Out of sympathy, he averted his gaze before adding; “Remember that night I drank an entire bottle of amaretto and puked all over Freddie’s bunk?”

Roger frowned, “I thought that was Ratty?”

Crystal barked a laugh, shaking his head. “That’s what I wanted you to think.”

[foxqueen-katarian]

Deciding with tens days left I’m gonna level a character of every class through remix was poorly thought out.

That said, it only took a day and a half to do second my character (warrior), and my starting cloak has a 100% exp boost to start, so my rogue should go faster, and I have all day tomorrow.

Druid - Main, lvl 70, Night Elf

Mage - lvl 70, Blood Elf

Warrior - lvl 70, Worgen

Rogue - lvl 41, Dark Iron

Hunter - N/A

Priest - N/A

Monk - N/A

Demon Hunter - N/A

Paladin - N/A

Shaman - N/A

Warlock - N/A

Death Knight N/A

Edit: Just realized Demon Hunter is on here twice, the second one was supposed to be Death Knight.

[pain-in-the-butler]

Hello, this is just a kindly, no-pressure ask for your rant/essay/critique, if you still like what you wrote. I am very curious what you have to say :)

Ah, hi there... Kind of you to drop in and I guess I should expect a little bit of gentle prodding. I do feel sheepish about my radio silence, particularly after I made a whole separate post talking about how I went off answering your ask. In fact, I wrote a whole 3.5k words, and even edited it a few times but ultimately I've struggled to make myself happy with it as a good response to your question, and I'm far too passionate to give myself any grace when it comes to talking about this subject.

But it isn't just nitpicking about the way I've written that's slowing me down. See, back when I was a little English major still in college and finally learning the correct way to write a paper for the first time in my life, I struggled with conclusions. A lot of people do. All I was really told was that I wasn't supposed to use conclusions to summarize my paper but rather to bring in new information. I thought that was pretty stupid, but I was determined to get it right.

At some point, I came upon a technique for writing conclusions that I continued to use for every paper for the rest of my life. Thanks to a borderline ADHD brain and general disorganization, I would often start writing essays only with an idea of what I wanted to say and no idea why I wanted to say it. It wasn't until I reached the end of the paper that I'd finally get what my own point was.

So I'd write the entire essay out in one go and first write the conclusion as if it was a summary of my paper. Next I'd reread the whole thing to make sure my summary made sense. And then I'd take that summary, make it my opening paragraph, edit it so it sounded less like an ending, reread the paper a third time, and then finally write a proper concluding paragraph that did at last bring new information to the reader. I know it sounds like a lot of extra work, but if you struggle with essays too, give it a try.

In conclusion... I wrote a long-winded, rambling essay for your ask, only to get to the end and realize what it was I really wanted to say. And when I realized what I really wanted to say, my essay no longer looked very strong to my own eyes.

Of course I haven't touched it with a ten-foot pole since I recognized this, out of annoyance with myself. But now that I've given it a few weeks to sit on the back burner, maybe I won't hate it so much anymore. I'll give it another read soon and determine what's best to do: finagle it or start over from scratch.

Sorry this is such an extremely extra and unnecessary process, I can't help my nature. I've only been stewing about how much I wish Black Butler was different for at least seven years. The last thing I want to do is sound flimsy when I finally put all my thoughts in order.

Tl;dr, thanks for bearing with me. I promise I haven't forgotten 🫡

[browneyesandhair]

Non-Exhaustive List of Soulmate Fics: Stydia

Okay, I'm bored so I'm compiling my favorite soulmate fics. Here's the Stydia edition:

Freckle by shea_btter

Summary:

When Stiles Stilinski was eight, he met his soulmate.

If I know what love is, it is because of you by roonil_w4zlib

Summary:

For the prompt 'Every time you get a song stuck in your head, it’s because your soulmate is singing it.'

The Devotion To A Flower by Lucy31

Summary:

What he saw almost triggered a panic attack. As predicted, it wasn’t an ephemeral black soulmark. Rather, it was the same kind he had, engraved in her wrist. The name stood out, blue against her pale skin, carved in her veins and slightly pulsing with the rhythm of her heart beat. Mieczyslaw. His name. The name that only his father knew.   Everything changes the day Stiles realizes he might be Lydia's soulmate. Originally written for stydia-fanfiction.tumblr

saving all my summers for you by flowermasters

Summary:

Stiles is Lydia's soulmate, and it takes ten years for her to consider the idea. Soulmates AU. Written for Stydia Month.

Colorblind by bananannabeth

Summary:

This is how it's supposed to go: The world is in shades of gray, until you meet your soulmate. When you do, your whole world suddenly changes. You look at each other, and you see color, and it's beautiful. But, in third grade, Stiles looks at Lydia and sees color, and Lydia looks at Stiles and doesn't see anything. Because maybe it's not enough to just meet your soulmate - maybe you need to realise they're your soulmate for it to take effect. So how is Stiles going to get Lydia to realise he's the love of her life? With a lot of patience, apparently.

maybe someday we'll get it right by korilove

Summary:

5 soulmate universes that Stiles and Lydia don't end up together, and one where fate wins out and they do. For Stydia Month.

[gentil-minou]

Gosh I need to edit this more before I actually start posting but I'm just so excited so here's a preview of my wangxian OUAT au, featuring wwx as emma, lwj as regina, and ayuan as henry (though are veering far away from both canon in both cases so no need to be familiar with the show to enjoy)

----

The doorbell rings.

He blinks once, then twice. Wei Wuxian isn’t normally one to get visitors, especially at this time of night. He tries to remember if there’s a no-candle policy in his lease his landlord might nag him about when the doorbell rings again.

He scrambles to his feet and stumbles to the door, already preparing an apology for something he probably didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to do and another apology in case he did know. He opens the door and sees….nothing.

Until he hears a quiet cough and looks down to see a little boy.

At first, he thinks maybe he’s a trick-or-treater who got a bit lost, but Wei Wuxian’s building is secured with a key and callbox entry. Plus, although he’s been wandering streets alone since forever, he’s pretty sure a kid this young would have a chaperone with him. He looks behind the kid and doesn’t see anyone else there.

But instead of asking something sensible like where his chaperone may be or even if the kid’s lost, he blurts, “How did you get in?”

The boy tilts his head and replies, “The front door. It wasn’t locked, I just walked in.”

So much for secured entry. But that doesn’t really answer why there is a human child at his door at nearly midnight. There’s definitely a law somewhere that says that’s illegal, probably.

The kid, who can’t be more than ten years old and really should have learned about stranger danger by now, beams up at him, as if technical breaking and entering is something to be proud of. Which, okay, maybe Wei Wuxian is kind of impressed by that.

“Aren’t you going to let me in?” the boy asks, his smile so sweet and unassuming that before Wei Wuxian even realizes it, he’s turned to the side and let the boy in.

The kid is wearing a blue puffy coat and carrying a white backpack that has homemade floppy ears made of felt that make it look like a bunny. They bounce up and down as the boy walks inside and slips his shoes off. Wei Wuxian very maturely resists the urge to tug on those floppy bunny ears, though only just.

Shoes off, his socks patterned with fluffy white clouds, the boy turns back around to look up at Wei Wuxian. His entire face beams up at him as if he were a sunflower facing the sun, which wow what an ego-boost. He’s got dimples, little baby dimples that are very cute and look very pinchable but that doesn’t matter because there is a baby in his house! And okay he’s at least ten years old but regardless why is there a whole entire child in his apartment? What is one supposed to do when some random kid shows up at their doorstep and invites themselves in?

“Oh shit uh, wait not shit,” Wei Wuxian stammers. “Shit, sorry. Um. A drink, you want a drink?”

Ask the random child if they want something to drink, apparently. Perfect.

The kid nods, still giving him that doe-eyed look. Wei Wuxian doesn’t have much by way of child-friendly beverage options, but he wasn’t exactly expecting something like this tonight. He settles on milk that looks like it hasn't gone too bad yet. Besides, expired milk builds immunity and character in children, that's how it works, right? He pours a glass for the kid, making sure to give him the cleanest one even though there’s a tiny crack on the surface.

He guides the kid over to the coffee table and hands him the milk. The kid takes the glass and sinks onto the deflated beanbag while Wei Wuxian perches on the edge of the couch. He grabs a can of beer from the six-pack still on the floor beside the table and takes a sip. Wait, is that allowed? Can he drink alcohol in front of children?

The kid doesn’t seem to care. He takes a tentative sip of his milk and makes a very polite face that fails to mask his disgust, before putting the glass down on the table next to the forgotten cupcake. Fair, it’s nice to see him asserting boundaries and all that.

"Okay," Wei Wuxian says, amused despite the situation. "Who are you and why are you in my house at—" he checks his phone for the time"—five minutes to midnight on a Friday night?"

The kid doesn't answer right away. His eyes are still focused on the cupcake, but in a way he probably thinks is sneaky. Wei Wuxian tilts his head to get a better look and sure enough, there’s a furrow between his eyebrows like the kid is trying really hard to ask a difficult question. After a minute, it becomes clear he hasn’t worked out a nice enough way to ask, but it’s a good thing Wei Wuxian knows enough about being a hungry child to recognize one.

He nudges the cupcake over to him and says, "Help yourself." Immediately, the kid grabs the cupcake with all the care in the world, like it’s a priceless artifact and promptly devours it. Wei Wuxian can’t help but smile as he eats. Suddenly the cheap cupcake feels like an excellent choice.

When the kid finishes licking the last bits of frosting and crumbs off his fingers, he sits politely with his hands in his lap and looks longingly toward the kitchen. He’s still too nice to ask forthright, but Wei Wuxian knows better and he isn't a monster.

Wei Wuxian gets up and opens one of the cabinets to look for something that’s probably child-appropriate, pulling out a bag of his least spicy chips. Chips are made of potatoes which are vegetables which means it’s probably not that bad for kids. Either way, the kid takes the bag gratefully and eats the chips with relish, even though they’re definitely way too spicy for someone his age.

“Alright, alright. You’ve been fed. Now tell me, who are you?” he asks again, though he can’t stop the tiniest bit of fondness from creeping into his tone. It’s just that everything this kid does is so cute! He can’t help himself!

The kid stops eating and tries to speak, but what comes out instead are the quietest little coughs Wei Wuxian’s ever heard. He’s been eating these spicy snacks and slowly turning as red as they are, but he’s so polite he hasn’t said a thing about them.

All at once, Wei Wuxian realizes he likes this kid, despite knowing practically nothing about him. It’s strange. He hates the kids the customers at his job will bring sometimes, especially when their parents just let them loose like it's a daycare and not a coffee shop. Wei Wuxian isn’t mean or anything, it’s just that wrangling kids is way above his pay grade. He didn’t even get along with other kids when he was a kid. All the other foster kids stood clear of him pretty much as soon as the social worker told his foster parents he was known for being “emotionally dysregulated” and labeling him a problem child.

But this kid is different from all the others, even though Wei Wuxian can’t quite put his finger on what’s so special about him. He seems like the kind of kid who would politely ask for steamed oat milk and say thank you, then ask his parents to let him give Wei Wuxian the tip. When he finishes, he’d probably throw his trash out without anyone asking and call goodbye to him one last time before he leaves. Even just imagining it makes Wei Wuxian feel wistful for something he’s never really wanted before.

It doesn’t help that this kid’s got what must be the fluffiest hair he's ever seen, and those dimples! It takes all of Wei Wuxian’s self-control to keep himself from pinching those chubby cheeks.

He doesn’t quite succeed and leans forward anyway to ruffle the kid's hair. "Ask for water, you silly,” he says, already standing and heading back to the kitchen.

When he hands him the glass, the kid just looks up at Wei Wuxian with his big, bright brown eyes filled with wonder. He’s looking at Wei Wuxian like he has the answer to everything. Wei Wuxian doesn't, but it's nice to feel like someone thinks he knows what he's doing.

The kid drinks half the glass before clearing his throat and finally answering Wei Wuxian’s question. “I’m Sizhui, but you can call me A-Yuan. Or even Little Radish, if you want! You called me that before.” He says it all in one breath, practically vibrating with energy by the end.

Wei Wuxian pauses in the middle of taking a sip of his beer. He’s not sure why he would ever call anyone a radish, and he’s pretty sure he’s never met this kid before. Does A-Yuan have mistaken him for someone else? Could this kid have some weird memory loss, except one where he gains fake memories instead of losing them? It’s definitely not the strangest thing about this whole situation.

Like all problems Wei Wuxian doesn’t know how to deal with, he decides to ignore that for now and asks, “Okay, A-Yuan then, why are you here?”

“Because,” A-Yuan starts, leaning forward and looking at Wei Wuxian with all the seriousness someone pre-puberty could possibly possess. “I need your help.”

“…Okay…” Wei Wuxian replies. The world must truly be fucked if someone is coming to him for help. He hasn’t had a vegetable in a week, unless pizza actually does count. “What do you need help with?”

He’s expecting the kid to say something normal like “my homework” or “getting to the train station”, you know, normal things a kid would ask a stranger to help him with.

He’s not expecting A-Yuan to respond gravely, “To save the world and everyone we love.”

Wei Wuxian blinks, speechless. A-Yuan doesn’t seem to notice, continuing to speak as he lifts his backpack onto his lap and rummages through its contents. “My family’s in trouble, our family. Everyone we know is, and you’re the only one who can fix it. Look here, see, I’ve got this book, it’s all written here. There’s a curse that’s affecting everyone and we need to break it.”

He plops the book down on the coffee table. It’s not at all what Wei Wuxian expects. It’s hand-bound, with a simple red fabric cover that’s blank except for the title that’s written in Chinese calligraphy. It’s written entirely in Chinese, in fact, completely by hand with the same impeccable calligraphy. Inside are what appear to be a bunch of stories or folktales. There are beautiful gongbi illustrations on every other page, inked in bright colors with an incredible level of detail.

Wei Wuxian can’t help but be impressed. The book is something he would expect to see at a museum or in a period drama, not on his coffee table with its chipped surface and water stains.  

A-Yuan flips to a picture of a man with long hair dressed in black and red robes. He’s playing a flute as shadows dance and twist around his frame. Then tendrils lift high into the sky and block out the sun. He’s standing on a pile of human bones, to really sell the whole villain energy this guy’s got.

A-Yuan points at the guy. “That’s you, you see?”

Wei Wuxian does not see, he’s pretty sure he would have noticed if his body was covered in shadows. Also, he would need way more conditioner for that length of hair.

The kid continues, interpreting Wei Wuxian’s stunned silence as something else entirely. “You’re the only one who can help them, who can save us all.” A-Yuan thrusts the scroll out to Wei Wuxian, who’s too floored to do much more than take it from him. “So, I’m here to bring you back.”

Wei Wuxian has to admit, the guy in the picture does look pretty badass. But it’s still just a drawing, and there’s little to suggest this looks anything like him at all.

He glances up. A-Yuan smile is so bright and excited that Wei Wuxian wishes he could feel his excitement too. The guy in the picture does look super cool, like someone he’d want to dress up as when he was A-Yuan’s age.

But all he feels is concern and confusion. Before, he was actually starting to enjoy spending time with this kid, but something is wrong, though it’s not what A-Yuan thinks. There’s a random kid in his apartment late at night, making up stories. And whether he likes it or not, Wei Wuxian is the adult here. He has to remember that.

“I’m sorry, kid,” he says, and the smile slowly drops from A-Yuan’s face and Wei Wuxian feels like the absolute worst person on the planet for doing that to him. “But I don’t know what this is, or who you are. I want to help, you’ve just gotta give me some actual answers. Where are your parents? Do they know where you are?”

A-Yuan looks down and mumbles, “I was so sure you’d remember if you saw this, if you held it.” He tightens the hands on his knees into fists and looks up at him with a startling conviction. “But that doesn’t matter. I know it, I know who you are. You’re Wei Wuxian. This is you. And you’re the only person who can save us.”

Wei Wuxian rubs his temples and contemplates chugging the remainder of his beer. He holds it in his hand, wishing he’d gotten another pack. “Look, I don’t know how you know my name, maybe you saw it on some mail outside or something, but—"

"You're my dad!” A-Yuan hastily interrupts. “That’s why, that’s how I know!"

Wei Wuxian drops the can. There's a splash of something spilling all over the carpet and he should probably make sure it’s not too bad. He's too busy trying to figure out how he could have a ten-year-old at twenty-five when he was definitely still a virgin at fifteen.

The initial shock slips away, leaving him only more confused. He raises an eyebrow at A-Yuan, willing him to explain.

"Not my real dad," A-Yuan says, rolling his eyes like somehow Wei Wuxian is the one claiming something impossible. "But you're my dad in every way that counts."

Wei Wuxian wishes he hadn't dropped his drink. He'd really like to take a sip of it now. And several more, maybe the rest of the cans, too.

This day needs to end. He should have stayed home and drank his way to oblivion, so he’d have been too far gone to answer the door in the first place.

TBC