#it is in my nature to have chapters increase in length over time

[orcelito]

I want to cuddle with my kitty and keep working on my writing but I have to get ready for work now 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Truly the greatest of injustices

Im now at 4.1k words for INTL chapter 13 tho. And... I haven't even really started the 2nd scene... it's been transition stuff...

I still plan on putting 2 more scenes after this 😭😭😭😭😭 this is gonna be a bit of a long chapter too

[transfemhawkeye]

As a disclaimer, I'd recommend waiting until we have the full chapter to make any definitive statements on it. Something, something, leak culture bad.

With that said, though, I have been thinking for the past half hour or so about Izuku rejecting a partnership offer from Bakugo in Chapter 431, and while I'm adhering to my words above regarding that, I do want to push back on the opinion-- which I've seen a lot of people holding-- that doing so is automatically mischaracterization.

BNHA's story centers around Izuku and Bakugo's dynamic, and we see that dynamic shift in such a profound way over the series. We begin the story with Izuku simultaneously idolizing and fearing a boy who, by all appearances, despises him. Katsuki's a bully and an egotist, but like so many bullies and egotists, the way he's acting is a mask. It's a response to fear, and it's a very conventionally masculine one (that's another post, though). Katsuki's scared of Izuku, because even though Izuku is weak, quirkless, below him, Katsuki always feels like Izuku is above him. He's scared of this feeling, and that becomes anger. So he lashes out, keeps Izuku at arm's length, and it doesn't work, because no matter what he does or says, Izuku worships him. That's a very intentional word choice; there is a sort of religious quality to the two's early dynamic, where Katsuki is this unreachable figure who Izuku simultaneously fears and loves, who represents the apex of strength and power in his eyes. This is, to say the least, an extremely unhealthy relationship dynamic, and one which harms both of them.

It's impossible to talk about Izuku and Bakugo's character arcs independently of each other. I would describe them as two sides of a coin; Izuku's arc fundamentally centers around creation, and Bakugo's around destruction. When Izuku arrives at UA, he defines himself by his worship for All Might and Katsuki. Izuku models his costume and his fighting style after All Might, even using the same names for his moves. Simultaneously, he continues to internalize Bakugo's bullying, doubting himself, continuing to idolize Katsuki even as Katsuki's increasing feeling of inferiority spurs him to ramp up the torment. So Izuku's arc is about gaining independence; it's about creating his own identity, about self reliance. He reclaims the derogatory nickname Katsuki uses for him, develops Shoot Style, changes his costume, and starts standing up to Katsuki. Yes, he still admires Katsuki, still cares for him, but crucially, that admiration no longer comes at the cost of his self-respect. It's because of this change that Bakugo is forced to reckon with the root of his aggression. He spends the majority of the series working towards consciously grasping his feelings of inferiority, and a big part of that is confronting his preconceived notions of strength and weakness, and accepting that he can rely on others without being weak. (Again, so much of Bakugo's arc is tied to overcoming toxic masculinity, and I'll definitely need to write about that sometime, too.) The apology he gives to Izuku at the end of the Dark Hero Arc is one of the series' strongest narrative moments, and its a showcase of so much development-- it's a genuine expression of vulnerability, Bakugo dropping his veneer of superiority, something which would be unconscionable to the Katsuki we meet in chapter 1. That Izuku doesn't immediately accept and try to assuage Katsuki's guilt speaks to the development he's undergone, too. Izuku learns to rely on himself, while Bakugo learns to rely on others.

So, after these arcs, with Izuku finally repowered, Bakugo asks him: "Will you join my agency as my partner?" This is the natural conclusion of Bakugo's arc: it shows that he sees Izuku as an equal and he's prepared to rely on him as a partner. And yet, Izuku turns him down. I understand why people would be upset about that, and if he did accept the offer, I wouldn't have a problem with it. But at the same time, we've just talked about how Izuku's story has centered around gaining independence from his idols. At some level, Bakugo is asking Izuku to go back to defining himself by their relationship, and even though it's in a far more equitable way than the hero worship which used to describe their dynamic, it's completely reasonable and in-character for Izuku not to want that. Yes, it's sad, but I think acting as though this is out of character for Izuku basically requires ignoring his character development, and it implies a very simplified understanding of his and Katsuki's dynamic and how it evolves throughout MHA. Bakugo and Izuku have one of my favorite relationships in any media I've watched/read/played/etc. and it's frustrating to see Izuku's part in it essentially be disregarded.

[sjsmith56]

Assignment Bucky Barnes, Chapter 2 - First Blush

Summary: Ariel starts her job at the library, receiving a visit from Bucky to confirm their date. She meets Steve Rogers.

Length: 3.7 K

Characters: Ariel, library staff, Bucky, Steve.

Warnings: Misogynistic attitude from library manager, catcalling, mean girls, Bucky moving fast, use of the term “queer” in keeping with the times.

Author notes: Steve readily plays wingman to Bucky.

<<Chapter 1

At 8:55 am the following day, Ariel presented herself at the main door of the Greenpoint Library in Brooklyn. A security guard was at the door and she told him she was starting that day. He checked her name on a clipboard and opened the door for her, telling her to seek out the Library Manager, Mr. Grayson. The man in question, in his late 60s, was behind the circulation desk instructing the Circulation staff on being extra vigilant as there had been a noticeable increase in missing books and he was sure it was a gang of juvenile delinquents taking out adult books that were too mature for them. As she approached he looked at Ariel over his glasses while lowering his head forward.

"Miss, can I help you?" he asked.

"Yes sir," she replied politely. "I am Ariel Black. I was told to report to you at 9 am."

He looked at his pocket watch then at the clock over the door. "It is 8:56 am Miss Black. You are early."

"Yes sir," she confirmed.

"Very well," he said, after very pointedly returning his pocket watch into the vest of his pocket. "Come with me. Mrs. Campbell, I leave the circulation staff in your capable hands."

He walked out from behind the circulation desk and began walking to an office in the back, entering it and sitting behind his desk. Ariel followed him in and he asked her to close the door, then sit down. He pressed his hands together at the fingertips while he looked steadily at her.

"Are you wearing makeup?" he asked.

"Just some face powder to reduce the natural redness of my cheeks," replied Ariel. "Is that permitted?"

"Yes, just don't wear anything more," he said. "No lipstick or eye makeup. Our patrons are here on serious business and they don't need to be distracted by a young woman trying to flaunt her beauty by excessive makeup."

Ariel kept her face as neutral as possible, remembering her training on early 20th century attitudes towards women.

"What you are wearing today is acceptable," he said. "Remember you are presenting yourself as an example of the fairer sex. No trousers, skirts must be below your knees, and if you wear a suit you must wear a blouse underneath. Do you smoke?"

"No sir," she stated.

"Good, we don't want our patrons to smell cigarette smoke on you," he said. "Now, you are part time, which means you are here every Wednesday from 9 am until 5 pm, then Thursday evening 5 pm until 9 pm, and all day Saturday 9 am until 5 pm. If you are late you will have pay docked from your paycheque. If you are late more than three times in a month it will be grounds for dismissal. You have your degree in Library Science?"

"Yes sir, with distinction," replied Ariel.

"Hmph," was his response to that. "You will start with shelving books, relieving on the circulation desk for breaks and lunch. After a month we will assess your work and decide whether to permit you to perform reference work. Come with me and I will introduce you to Miss Warren who is in charge of shelving."

He stood up and Ariel followed him to a back room where there were several carts with books being stacked in order for re-shelving. A woman in her early 30s was taking the books from one cart and organizing them on another. He introduced Ariel to her and left them there. When he was out of earshot Miss Warren looked at Ariel.

"Don't worry about him," she said. "He's just biding his time until he can retire. Stay out of his way and his attention, and you'll be fine. Come with me and I'll show you where to hang up your coat and purse."

After returning they began working together organizing the book carts by Dewey Decimal number then each took a cart out into the library and began shelving them in the correct position in the stacks. About an hour into it, while on her third cart Ariel pushed the cart in between two shelving units deep in the stacks and heard a male voice from the other side of one of the units.

"How is your first day working out?"

She looked between the books and saw the bright blue eyes of Bucky on the other side.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in a low voice.

"Checking up on you," he said. "Did you find out if you're working Friday night?"

"I'm not but I do have to be at work at 9 am on Saturday morning," she whispered. "Now go away before you get me into trouble. Shouldn't you be working?"

"Not enough work on the docks again today," he said. He looked both ways then came around to her side. "You look very academic today."

She felt her cheeks get hot which was silly as it wasn't much of a compliment. "Bucky, really, you should go," she pleaded.

"I have a library card," he said, almost poutingly. "I'm entitled to look for a book."

He pulled a book out and showed it to her. The Hood Basic Cook Book was the title and he began looking through the pages.

"Mmmm, clam fritters," he said. "Sounds tasty." Ariel started laughing and he smiled that smile at her. Then his face went softer. "What time are you off?"

"5 o'clock," she answered. "Really, go before you get me fired on my first day."

"I'll pick you up, make sure you get home safely," he said, his blue eyes boring into her.

"Fine but please leave me alone until then," she begged.

"Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains, Let me remember thee what thou hast promised," he whispered, then he smiled, put the cook book back in its place and left, walking past her while trailing his fingertips across hers as he passed by.

The man quoted Shakespeare at her, and not just any line but a line spoken by Ariel in The Tempest. She watched him saunter away and wondered what his fingertips would feel like tracing a line from her lips down her neck. Shaking her head to remove the thought she resumed shelving the books on her cart. When her lunch break came she ate the sandwich she had in her purse and put a nickel in the jar to have a coffee from the urn in the little staff room. Two others that were working in the processing office came in for their lunch break and introduced themselves. Alma Flett and Irina Jacob were both recent college graduates and considered themselves lucky to get a job in their neighbourhood. They leaned forward towards Ariel.

"Did Bucky Barnes come back to see you?" they asked in a low voice. "You know about him, right?"

"Know what, exactly?" asked Ariel, making sure her brooch was turned towards them to pick up their conversation.

"He's a Tom cat," said Alma. "I mean, he's easy on the eyes but he's out for one thing and it isn't your good reputation."

"Actually it is," giggled Irina. "He's out to ruin it."

"He's been a gentleman to me," said Ariel.

They looked at her as if she were crazy. "Just be careful," cautioned Alma. "Don't get caught alone with him. Especially not in a dark place. Although I heard his kisses are dreamy."

"He's walking me home after work," said Ariel, noticing the shocked expressions on their faces. "That's safe isn't it?"

"Stay on the sidewalk," said Irina. "Don't go into an alleyway with him."

They were interrupted by Mr. Grayson who looked sternly at all of them and they ate their meal in silence as he pulled his lunch out of the icebox and sat at another table with a newspaper. With a minute left to go in her lunch Mr. Grayson looked up from his newspaper and focussed his attention on Ariel so she stood up, straightening her clothing and went back to the shelving room where there were more carts of unsorted books waiting to be put into order. She bent herself to the task and by the time her shift was over she and Miss Warren had managed to shelve three quarters of the books. Picking up her jacket and purse Ariel stopped in the ladies room and was in the stall when she heard Irina and Alma come into the space.

"Can't believe he was in the Shakespeare section looking up The Tempest," said Alma. "Well, I hope she knows what she's letting herself in for."

"A good time?" giggled Irina. "Seriously, what does he see in her? Your hair is so much nicer than that nest she has. I wonder if he'll drag that creepy Steve out to walk her home. Can't stand that little runt."

They washed their hands and whispered something that made them each giggle then Ariel heard them leave. She wondered herself if Steve Rogers would show up on the walk home and was curious to see him in the flesh, knowing what would happen to him later. After flushing the toilet and washing her hands Ariel put her jacket on and walked to the front door of the Library. Bucky was waiting for her, leaning against a lamp post. Beside him was a smaller blonde man. He had to be the runt referred to in the ladies room.

"Ariel Black, meet my friend Steve Rogers," said Bucky. "He was walking by and I said he might as well walk with us."

"Hi Steve, nice to meet you," said Ariel, extending her hand.

He looked at Bucky who nodded encouragement and he shook her hand. "Ariel, nice to meet you, too," he said, then he coughed nervously. "You're Mr. Burnett's niece?"

"Yes, I am," she said. "I just arrived from Montana yesterday. Bucky carried my trunk up the stairs to the apartment. Such a gentleman."

Bucky threw a big smile at his friend and placed himself on the outside of the sidewalk, beside the traffic as Steve placed himself on the opposite side of Ariel as they started walking.

"What's Montana like?" asked Steve, cautiously.

"Lot's of prairie, open sky, mountains," she said. "Brutal winters. Hot summers."

"Not much open sky here," he replied. "I'd like to see Montana, someday."

"I'm sure you will," said Ariel, then she looked up at Bucky. "Two of my coworkers talked to me about you."

"Alma and Irina," he stated flatly. "They warned you off me, didn't they? I have a bit of a reputation but my intentions are always honourable."

Steve smirked and Ariel found it difficult not to smile. "I'm sure they all start out that way," she commented, then placed her hand in the crook of Bucky's left arm.

He lifted his left hand across his body in response then looked down at her and smiled putting his other hand on top of hers for a moment before returning it to his other side. She looked sideways at Steve who also seemed more relaxed.

"So, what do you two do when you're at loose ends?" she asked. "My uncle isn't within earshot so you can speak a little more candidly than yesterday."

Bucky laughed lightly and looked down at her again. "We do what I told you yesterday but I go to the jazz clubs a couple of times a month, or to a dance hall," he said. "Do you dance?"

"Not well, unfortunately," she said. "I'm not a fan of square dancing and that is common in rural Montana. I prefer slow dancing. I do like jazz. I could listen to Billie Holliday and Duke Ellington all night long. What about movies? What do you two fellas like?"

"Just about anything, except the real weepy ones," said Steve. "Adventure, detective, westerns, war movies. Bucky has a younger sister that we have to take with us every so often so we've seen Wizard of Oz, which was interesting, and Fantasia. It was alright."

"How many brothers and sisters do you both have?" she asked, already knowing the answer but playing her part.

"None," said Steve. "I'm an orphan. Bucky just has Rebecca. You?"

"None," she replied. "I'm an orphan as well. My Mother died of the Spanish flu when I was little and Dad died of a heart attack last year. Uncle Merton is my Mother's brother and when my job fell through in Missoula he said I was welcome to live here and help him in the antique store. Have you known my Uncle long?"

"Ever since he opened his store," said Bucky. "It was much smaller then but he always had odd jobs for both of us, cleaning the floors, polishing silverware, that sort of thing. He had some interesting books as well that he lent me, fiction and non-fiction." He stopped talking for a bit then cleared his throat. "Some people think he's queer as he never seems to date but he's never come on to either of us. If he is it's none of our business."

"To be honest, my Dad always thought there was something queer about him but he's always been kind to me and that's what's important right?" stated Ariel. "Besides, I've heard stories about cowboys out on the range with their herds that would make your hair curl."

Bucky laughed out loud and shook his head. "You are an interesting woman," he said. "You looked so prim and proper in the Library but I'm guessing you know a lot of things that a young lady of your age shouldn't."

Ariel didn't give him an answer on that one as she realized she almost let slip more than she should have for the depth of their acquaintance. She was unaware that Merton had provided books to Barnes but it made sense that he would encourage the self education that the man was known for, although it bordered on interference in the timeline. Later, once she shut her recording devices down she would bring it up. The three of them continued walking and she noticed both men seemed to be watching out for her. They passed a construction site and Bucky waved at a couple of the men. On the way to the Library in the morning she received her first catcalls from this very site. She could understand why women of the time would cross the street under such onslaughts of sexually suggestive comments. Now that Bucky was with her there were none and she glanced at him, noticing the intensity of his gaze at the work site.

"Interesting," she thought. "He obviously has enough influence to stop the comments when we're together. I wonder if I'll get any now that they've seen me with him."

"That's strange," she said out loud. "I received all sorts of comments this morning on my way past here. Now, nothing."

"They won't, not while I'm with you," stated Bucky. "I'm sorry for the wolf whistle I gave you yesterday. That's usually the most I'll do when I see a pretty lady. These guys go too far sometimes, and they know it."

She stopped walking. "You don't get into fights over that do you?" she asked innocently.

His face flushed and he looked away. Ariel looked over at Steve who had a bit of a grin on his face.

"He's usually intervening when I get into a fight," he said. "I don't know when to stay down and keep my mouth shut sometimes. He's come to my rescue a few times. Bucky's a very good boxer, three years YMCA welterweight champion."

"Really?" she asked, squeezing Bucky's arm. "Were you good enough to turn professional?"

"I am good enough but it's not the most clean sport," he replied. "The mob has their fingers in it and they would likely want me to take dives against their preferred fighter. I'm too honest for that so I just box for the fun of it now."

They approached a pet store with several puppies and kittens in the window. Ariel pulled her hand away from Bucky's arm and stood in front of the window, trailing her finger along the surface of the glass as the young animals jumped up against the barrier.

"My goodness, they're so cute," she said, noticing Bucky standing close to her again with his hand lightly on her back. "I should ask Uncle Merton if he minds if I have a pet. I had a dog in Missoula but I left him with a friend as he was used to being outside all day. I didn't think it was fair to keep him cooped up in an apartment in the city."

"What kind of dog?" asked Steve.

"A mutt," she said. "He was big and had wiry fur. His name was Walter." She blinked her eyes and willed some tears to her eyes as she turned away from the window. "Sorry, I'm missing him right now."

Both men took a handkerchief out of their pockets and she smiled sadly at them both, then took hers out of her purse, deciding not to favour one of them over the other. After she put her handkerchief back inside her purse she placed her hand on Bucky's arm again and looked up at him. A kind smile was on his face and he squeezed her hand lightly with his other. She noticed that Steve had the same kind smile and she wondered if they were that attuned to each other that the younger man wouldn't even try to compete but let Bucky be the dominant male. Impulsively she reached out with her left hand and placed it in the crook of Steve's right arm. Immediately he looked to Bucky who smiled with encouragement. Steve bent his arm to accommodate her touch and they walked together as a threesome until they delivered her safely to the antique store. They stood outside the store then Steve said he was going in to talk to Ariel's uncle. Bucky stood out on the sidewalk with Ariel, towering over her.

"That was a nice thing you did for Steve, taking his arm like that," he said. "Not many girls care for him."

"He's nice," she said. "A gentleman, like you."

"What's your work schedule like?" he asked. She told him and he nodded. "I'll stop by on my lunch break and see you here tomorrow."

He pulled her away from the window and opened the door to the stairwell, pulling her inside, then closing the door so they were blocked from view. As Ariel leaned back against the wall he leaned over her, his right hand resting on the wall above her shoulder..

"You know I like you," he said in a low voice that surprised her with its physical effect on her. The man had a definite presence. "How are you getting home after work tomorrow night?"

"Uncle Merton is picking me up in the van," she said.

He nodded as if he understood. Gently he took a section of her hair between his fingers and played with it as he gazed at her with those intense blue eyes. Lowering his lips to hers he kissed her softly, with the barest touch of his tongue on hers. She could taste cigarette tobacco but on him it seemed natural, part of him, like the clean smell of soap on his body. Her fingertips grazed his chest lightly and she felt him smile during this chaste kiss. Then he stood up to his full height.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said quietly and opened the door to the street, leaving her leaning against the wall.

Steve was waiting on the sidewalk and smiled at her. Stepping out she watched the two men leave, noticing Bucky looked back at her several times before they were out of sight. Then she walked into the store where Merton was closing up. He was grinning.

"Well, that was interesting," he said. "You might get a pet tomorrow, a kitten. Steve did the asking but I'm guessing Bucky will buy it."

"He kissed me in the stairwell," she said. "It was very nice and respectful. I'm guessing it will escalate. Steve just stepped away and let him make the first move although Bucky didn't show any jealousy when I took Steve's arm. Interesting dynamic between them. They both know you're gay, by the way. Figured it out early but said since you didn't come on to them they thought you were alright. How do you manage that in these times?"

"I go on buying trips every so often," he replied. "I have acquaintances and we keep it low key. I never bring anyone home here. That would be asking for trouble."

"Bucky said you gave him books to read," she asked. "Wasn't that pushing the boundaries a little?"

"Not at all," he said. "I had them on display and he indicated he wanted to read them so I lent them to him. He is a voracious reader and is surprisingly well educated."

"Bucky came to see me at the Library," admitted Ariel. "Quoted a line from The Tempest. That surprised me."

"Expect more of those," he said. "That's why I didn't want to say anything to you before. Both men are surprising in many ways. I expect Steve will draw a portrait of you. He is a talented artist, went to art school for a year and I believe both men will consider going to art school again next year, with Bucky taking technical drawing."

She helped Merton count out the day's sales and set up the cash float for the following day, locking the cash drawer and the proceeds in a safe under the counter. Then they both turned off the lights and Merton pulled over an expanding steel gate from each side of the store front over the windows and door, locking them into place. He allowed her into the stairwell first and they went up the stairs together. Over dinner she discussed her first day of work in a Carnegie library and they spent another hour discussing sex roles in the early 20th century. By the time Ariel got into bed she was filled with anticipation for the possibility of a pet being gifted to her. She was also anticipating the next kiss. As Alma mentioned, Bucky's kisses were dreamy.

Chapter 3>>

Series Masterlist

A reblog or comment would be appreciated.

[xomakara]

The Highlights of Romance

THoR Chap. Masterlist | Previous | Next

Chapter length - 2,075 words A/N - Will be more smut in later chapters haha. Enjoy this short one for now.

Chapter 009 - Sex

Kissing Mark felt natural...

Having Mark feel up your breast felt...well, amazing.

This was different from what you were used to, obviously. You had never felt this kind of pleasure before. Sure Yuta and Jaehyun were great lovers but with them, it was just sex. With Mark, there were feelings involved. You wouldn't call it love but you really did like Mark.

And that was something, right?

You moaned when Mark squeezed your breast hard, playing with it with his fingers. You clutched his shoulder tightly, burying your head in his chest. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer to him. You rested your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, basking in the feeling of being in his embrace.

You looked up at him, catching his gaze. He smirked, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. "Are you ready for this?"

You nodded, your fingers entwined with his. "I am."

Mark led you upstairs, stopping at your bedroom door. He placed both hands on your lower back, pushing you against the wall, allowing his lips to graze against your neck. A shiver ran down your spine, increasing the warmth spreading throughout your body. Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair, pulling him in closer, deepening the kiss.

Mark stopped the kiss briefly, letting out a deep breath.

"You smell good." He whispered, leaning his forehead against yours.

Your hands wandered downwards, running their fingers through his hair. You followed the direction of his hairline, gently caressing the nape of his neck. You placed soft kisses along his jawline, your tongue softly gliding against his skin.

Mark let out a soft moan, running his hands through your hair. He closed his eyes as your lips continued their exploration, trailing down his neck, lingering in the hollow of his collar bone. He fumbled with the doorknob to your bedroom door, his fingers gently brushing against yours as you pressed your palm against his cheek.

When the door was finally open, you and Mark stumbled towards your bed, almost tripping over each other. Mark pushed you onto the mattress, his hand running down your side, leaving a trail of fire in its path. He wasted no time in undoing your robe, his fingertips exploring the contours of your breasts.

He pulled back, looking down at your chest, mesmerized by the sight of your beautiful naked body.

"My god..." He breathed, covering your breast with his palm, massaging it gently.

He started off slow, teasing you, gently squeezing your breast, watching you gasp in response. As he continued to tease you, your body tensed, reaching down to pull him close. When his lips met your nipple, it was an almost instant reaction, causing you to grab hold of his hair, moaning loudly. After a few moments, Mark moved to your other breast, caressing and rolling it in his hand. Then he placed his mouth over your nipple, sucking softly, then harder.

"Let me take care of you." Mark mumbled, pressing his lips against your skin. "Tell me how to please you."

His words caught you off guard, causing you to hesitate for a moment. But then your body betrayed you, tensing up, your body responding to his voice. Slowly, you reached down, wrapping your fingers around his wrist.

"Mark..." You whimpered, pulling his arm upwards, moving his hand between your legs.

Mark immediately went to work, bringing your knees up to your chest, opening your legs wide. In one swift motion, he slid a finger inside of you, stretching you out, causing you to moan out loud. Mark stopped to look up at you, admiring your beauty.

"Beautiful..." He muttered, before latching onto your nipple once again, teasing it mercilessly.

You tried to stop yourself from coming, but it was impossible. You began breathing heavily, panting uncontrollably as your body succumbed to your desire. Suddenly, Mark withdrew his finger, placing his thumb on your clit, applying pressure.

"Oh god!" You screamed, bucking your hips against his hand.

His tongue snaked out, wetting your earlobe, sending chills down your spine.

"You feel so good." Mark whispered, nibbling on your ear.

His thumb circled your clit, making you quiver as his fingers dug deeper inside of you.

Suddenly, you tensed up, holding your breath, trying to keep yourself from cumming. But it was too much. Too intense. The pleasure was too much to bear. And before you knew it, your orgasm hit you hard, causing you to scream out in ecstasy.

Mark kept his hand steady, continuing to rub your clit as you recovered. When you calmed down, you grabbed hold of his hair, holding his head against your chest. Mark let out a long breath, before pulling his fingers out of you, licking the juices from his hand.

Mark started to completely undress himself, tugging his clothes off quickly, while still keeping his eyes locked with yours. You stared up at him, captivated by his naked form. You reached out, stroking his body, running your fingers through his messy hair.

"Mark...Do you have a condom on you? Because I want to make sure that we're safe..."

Mark chuckled. "Relax, Y/N. I already came here with a condom."

You nodded your head, your hands coming to grasp his shoulders. Mark let out a sigh of relief, his body relaxing against yours. You kissed his neck softly, kissing your way down his jaw line, pausing to suck on his bottom lip.

Once you made your way down his chest, Mark stopped you, taking your hands in his own, intertwining your fingers together.

He gently rubbed your hands, creating small circles on your palms. "You don’t have to take care of me. All that matters is you.”

“I want to, Mark.” You responded, running your tongue across his pectoral muscle. “It turns me on knowing that you’re enjoying yourself.”

You paused to kiss his nipples, sucking gently on them. You let go of his hands, slowly sliding them up his stomach, making your way back to his chest. His skin was smooth, silky, and firm. You brushed your fingers across his nipples, smiling at his shivering reaction. Mark gave a half laugh, placing his hand on top of yours, squeezing your fingers gently.

You continued to kiss your way down his torso, stopping every now and then to suckle his nipples or lick his belly button. His breathing became heavier and faster as you made your way down his body, stopping every now and then to rub your fingers along his length.

Mark shifted slightly under your touch, moving his hips to try and press your face against his dick. Your face was practically pressed against his cock, his cockhead resting on your nose. You smiled as he tightened his grip on your hands, making sure you didn’t move.

“Ah…” Mark moaned, pressing his erection against your face.

Slowly, you lowered your mouth until your lips grazed against his member. You sucked softly, causing his eyes to flutter shut. You repeated the process several times, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum. You felt his whole body tense up as you bit gently on his shaft.

You opened your mouth wider, sucking even more deeply, moaning at the feel of his cock filling your mouth. The tip of his cock was touching the back of your throat, causing Mark to release a low groan. He released your hands, grabbing hold of your head, his eyes meeting yours.

“Don’t stop.” He whispered.

You smiled, running your hands down his back, sliding your fingers along his lower back. You started bobbing your head up and down, slowly, getting more comfortable with his size. Soon enough, your hands were pressed against the mattress, holding yourself in place as you sucked him deep into your mouth. Mark grasped your head tighter, thrusting his hips against you. His moans became louder and louder as he increased his pace, thrusting himself into your mouth over and over again.

Suddenly, he let out a shout, his body tensing up, causing you to gag slightly as you fought to swallow all of his seed. When he was finished shooting his load, you took his dick out of your mouth, sitting back on your heels, panting. He laid back on the bed, closing his eyes, seemingly exhausted.

After a few moments, you crawled up his body. "Mark, you okay?" You asked, leaning over him.

"Y/N...God, that was..." He trailed off, searching for the right word.

You leaned forward, placing a tender kiss on his lips. "That good?"

"Yeah..." He sighed, running his fingers through your hair.

You smiled, leaning down to kiss him again. This time, he captured your lips with his, passionately kissing you. After a few minutes, Mark broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.

"Do you want to continue? Or would you rather rest?" He asked.

"I want to see what else you can do to me." You answered, tracing his lips with your fingertip.

Mark chuckled, lightly kissing your lips. "Anything you want."

"Then show me." You replied, planting a kiss on his cheek.

With that, he flipped you over, lying you on your back. Ripping the condom packet open, he rolled the condom on his dick, positioning himself above you. He slowly lowered himself down, letting his cock sink inside of you. You let out a soft moan, as he continued to lower himself, until his entire length was inside of you.

"Fuck, Mark." You moaned, gripping his arms.

"Is this what you wanted?" He whispered, leaning forward, pressing his lips against yours.

"Yes..." You moaned, raising your hips to meet his every thrust.

Mark started off slowly, thrusting his hips against yours, feeling your walls grasping his member tightly. You ran your hands up and down his back, digging your nails into his flesh. Every thrust caused a new wave of pleasure to rush through you. Mark slowed his pace, moving his hips in a gentle circular motion, occasionally glancing at you to check if you were okay. You gazed up at him, admiring his beautiful features, letting out soft sighs every now and then. Mark reached behind you, running his hands over your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Mmm..." You moaned, moaning even louder when he pinched your left nipple.

"Tell me what you want, Y/N." He murmured, rubbing his index finger against your clit.

"Please, fuck me harder." You gasped, lifting your hips, trying to get more of his cock inside of you.

"Are you sure? We could just stay like this." He said, running his hand down your thigh.

Your body betrayed you, tightening up, your muscles clenching around his cock.

"Mark! Please!" You cried out, biting your lip, hoping that he'd continue.

"Mmmm…" He hummed, increasing his pace, pounding his cock into you over and over again.

Your pussy contracted around his dick, your insides gripping him tight.

"Come for me, Y/N." He whispered, his fingers digging into your thighs.

And that's when it happened.

A sudden burst of pleasure swept through your body, causing you to let out an ecstatic scream, gripping his arms tighter. Mark slammed his body into yours, taking your orgasm as far as possible. With each thrust, he increased his speed, pushing you higher and higher.

"Ahh..." You moaned, feeling his cock pulsating inside of you.

The orgasm finally ended, causing Mark to collapse on top of you, both of you panting heavily.

You laid there for a minute, recovering from your orgasm, staring up at the ceiling, listening to his heartbeat.

Mark lifted his head off of your shoulder, running his fingers through your hair. He sat up, turning you over, tucking himself inside of you. Slowly, he lifted himself up, looking down at you.

"Hey." He whispered, planting a kiss on your lips.

"Hi." You whispered back, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"How do you feel?" He asked, running his fingers down your arm.

"Amazing." You breathed out.

"Good." He smiled, leaning in for another kiss. "Can I stay over? Since I'm already in your bed?"

"Mark, your apartment is across the hall." You laughed.

"It's too far away from you." He joked, brushing his lips against yours.

"Alright, but only because you made me come so hard." You grinned.

Mark laughed, running his fingers through your hair.

"You really are amazing." He said, leaning down to kiss you again.

THoR Chap. Masterlist | Previous | Next

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 66

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

The last thing you see before you lose a hand or as I like to say, this week's chapter art by @aimike17

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Marathon Sex, Somnophilia, Bondage, Feral Behavior, Feral Donatello, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Public Sex, Dom Donnie, Human/Turtle Relationships, Turtle Noises, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay

Synopsis:  A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

SCREECHING AFTER THE FACT SHOUT-OUT TO @tmntxthings for helping me out with this chapter too! She's a freaking saint when it comes to helping me cook!!!

Fem!Reader References/Warnings Below Cut

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

LAST WARNING FOR THE 🍋 UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI!

Fem!Reader References/Warnings: gun, robbery, threats of murder, blood, broken bones, bra removal, clit suck, folds, and the typical pregnancy mention

“Tarp.”

“Check.” You patted down the many plastic sheets.

“Mirrors.”

“Big and small.” You tiptoed around a floor length one and over to the table where a handheld one lay.

“Paint.”

“Check.” In a little swivel, you held out a hand in demonstration to the litany of choices.

“Brushes.”

“Check!” You turned your outstretched hand into a pointed finger to the cup sporting many.

“Spot testing for allergic reactions, check. Scheduled time is blocked so we have the entire day. This leaves mess where tarps have been laid out in accordance to my mapping.” Donnie lifted his head from a screen to stare down where plastic sheets disappeared into the bathroom. “Bedroom otherwise prepared, which leaves clean up…”

You nodded in time, itching to get ready.

“Clean up.”

His repeated line brought your attention.

He was in motion toward the bathroom before you could even ask.

There you heard the clatter of the shower curtain as you followed.

“No, no!”

You reached the door frame and looked in where he was holding a bottle of his soap. “What?”

“Colloquially I may say body wash, but this is technically a cleanser!”

“Okay…?”

“Cleanser retains skin’s natural oil!”

Your fingers squeezed the jamb as you waited for him to elaborate.

“It won’t properly clear paint! Water-based or otherwise!”

“Oh…”

He shook the container. “We would need excess which I have not planned for! The new formulation isn’t due for another week!” 

You grimaced sheepishly. 

Donnie sighed and then turned to gripe at you. “While I may have increased my order to account for your utilization, it will not be enough. If you recall, we had the addition of your soap for grimier circumstances. With my wash it would take multiple lathers to scrub away all residue. This would leave us without cleanser before more arrived, id est, we were meant to have purchased a separate and appropriate soap.” 

He hadn’t been shy about his complaints. When you had first moved in, you had your own body wash, but after a while it seemed easier to just use his. While the formula was supposedly made for him alone, it also made your skin feel comfortably supple.  “Uh huh...”

“Y/N, this is a problem!” He brought the bottle over to you.

You took the offering, found it light as described, and turned your head toward the sink. “Okay… We have other soaps… How about the hand soap right here?”

He made a noise of revulsion.

“Or dish soap?” Your head lolled as you looked at him.

His features curled into twisted horror. “You are describing a replacement worse than simply letting the paint dry!”

“If it dries, it just flakes off, doesn't it?”

“I won’t even dignify that with a response.” He spoke caustically.

“Donnie, the dish soap is good enough for ducks and oil spills. It’s their whole branding, it can’t be that bad-”

“These are neither oil based paints nor are either of us waterfowl!”

“That’s not what the marketing scheme is trying to-!”

“I refuse!”

You made an annoyed sound and were just shy of stomping your foot. “Donnie, it took forever to get the tarps down according to your plan!”

He folded his arm.

“Donatello!”

His beak rose with a haughty turn of his head.

“So, that’s it!? No body painting because you forgot soap!?”

“Me?” He came down with a fiery gaze. “We made the list together!”

“And you’re Santa Claus checking it twice! You ordered everything!”

“Blame goes both ways. You wound me and therefore I’m even less inclined to continue our activity!” In a flap of his hands, he shooed you.

Irritated, you stepped away only for him to begin to kick up the tarp behind you. “What are you doing!?”

“As you so kindly put it, there will be no body painting today! I am cleaning up!”

“Don, come on!” You blocked him from messing up the ground cover further.

He towered over you.

“We spent all that time testing brushes to make sure they felt right against you! Hell, we spent forever trying to figure out the best way to write on each other. Markers grossed you out and there was so much trial and error for smell and texture and everything! Then, getting the stuff and the time and setup! Please…!”

“We have a process for a reason. This is an undertaking, not to be done on a whim.” His eyes were down, ready to calculate moving you out of the way.

You stepped around his toes to cage him in. “Do you still want to?”

He reared with an annoyed shake. “Have you not been listening!?”

You whacked your hands against his plastron. “Obviously I have! I’m asking if you’re just trying to find an excuse out.”

“Of course not!” He was further offended. “I put forth the effort because I wanted this! We both did!”

“Then why are you giving up so easily!?”

“I’m not! I’m rescheduling. We can attempt another after we have the proper wash.” He found that to be his last word on the situation and moved to get around you.

“I can go to the closest store. There’s a shop two blocks from here and I know they have body wash!”

Donnie stalled, but didn’t look.

“It’s not going to be a great brand, but all soap strips right? As long as it’s for the body, that’s good enough?”

He was clearly processing.

“Please…?”

“Not all.” He glanced. “I have stipulations.”

“Shoot.”

“The product must be free of sulfates, parabens, phthalates, mineral oil, retinyl palmitate, coal tar, hydroquinone, triclosan, triclocarban, formaldehyde and its derivative releasing agents, and even the slightest form of fragrance.”

Your lips parted as you weren’t prepared for such a long list. “You need to send that to me.”

“I will go with you.”

“Yeah!?”

“Calm, this is still your task. I would only rather waste a portion of my time.”

You frowned.

“I don’t care if I ruin the mood.”

You gave one tepid sigh before looking at him with a withered expression. “Your skin care is important.”

“As how it feels and what goes on it.”

“Yes. I’m not making light, I’m just…” You gestured out to how your bedroom was coated in plastic wrap. “We worked so hard. I… no, we were really looking forward to this…” 

“I acknowledge the frustrations.” He dipped in to press his beak to your head.

You lingered only for a moment. “Now?”

“Now.” He agreed and you both moved to leave.

Getting shoes on, you were both out the door and heading to the store. Right where you said it was, the micro grocer was a dingy, but serviceable place. Donnie made his stand outside and only helped you by writing out his request list in an app. With your phone in hand, you entered and only glanced at the shopkeeper. A young guy scrolling on his phone, he ignored you while you headed to where the toiletries were. Several options, you picked up the first to start reading ingredients when the door opened again.

Background noise of another customer, you sneered at one of the banned ingredients and moved for the next bottle. Scanning through that one’s tiny print, you squinted to examine it closer when you heard a huffy voice.

“Hurry up…”

Your head lifting with an odd weight, you leaned just enough to look past the shelf you were at.

At the register, whoever had walked in was clearly robbing the place with a gun shaped figure lifted up through his jacket.

Staring, you saw the man at the counter struggle with the machine. “It won’t open unless you make a purchase. I don’t really know-!”

“Fake one, stupid!” The gunman hissed, jerking his coat.

You looked toward the front window, but couldn’t see Donnie.

“Trying to be a hero!?” You weren’t sure how, but the gunman must have caught a glimpse of you because he spun around.

Donnie had been right next to the front door. 

He would have seen the guy enter. 

He would have heard the commotion, no matter how quiet. 

“Hey, you listening?!”

You didn’t move your pupils, but the guy at the register chanced a shaky hand toward the phone.

“Dipshit!!” The gunman stalked toward you. “You hear what the fuck I’m saying or not!?”

Without moving your head, you looked the man up and down. 

He appeared small.

He was technically taller than you, but you couldn’t help but shrink him in your mind.

He appeared pathetic with his spindly form and terrible stance.

He looked like he’d jumped into this store on a whim to steal a quick buck in the middle of a slow weekend day.

One thing out of place was sending him into a rage. 

You arched a brow. “I’m kind of busy.”

“You’re…?” The flared anger was snuffed out in a confused instant.

“Yeah, my boyfriend is really particular about his body wash.” You shook the bottle in your hands so he could see it better.

“I’m… What the FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?” Doubling down, he yanked the gun out of his jacket pocket to properly point it.

In a way, you were surprised he actually had one. 

You expected someone like him to have just faked it with his hand. 

Your heart rate barely blipped at the matte black object.

In contrast to your steady blood pressure, you saw a very familiar rush of black behind the gunman. 

It was a move imperceptible to anyone else.

When had your senses become so honed?

You guessed it was somewhere along the pipeline of generally dating a mutant and having almost died.

You had seen things the average person couldn’t dream of. 

Guns seemed so archaic in comparison. 

That explained why you weren’t scared.

You’d dealt with enough.

This pathetic trash wasn’t worth your adrenaline.

You had full faith in your mate and yourself. 

“He’s very particular, ya know?” You shrugged.

“Wha…?” The gunman wilted again at your second rebuttal.

“About this…” You looked at the shelf. “About me…” You turned your attention toward the barrel. “He’s waiting for me.”

“If you think your stupid ass sob story is going to-? You know what, fuck you! Empty your pockets, NOW!” The pistol shook and rotated.

“No.”

He blinked.

“I don’t think you understand.” Your head tipped and you could feel the unhinged quality your features took on. “I’m warning you. Put that gun down and walk out or else.”

If the man’s initial anger level was at a one and he doubled it on your first refusal, then his current boiling point broke mercury. “STUPID, FUCKING-!”

Metal crunched so loud it caused the racks of goods to reverberate.

Standing beside you was Donnie.

Extending out from his body were two of his mechanical arms.

One of which was clasped not only around the gun it had just devoured, but the gunman’s hand.

“I tried to tell him.” You gave Donnie a sugar coated look.

Your partner tipped his head toward you in acknowledgement.

Pain delayed, the gunman screeched and the first drops of blood began to trickle out from where his firearm was now part of him.

“You.” The other mech arm blurred as it caught the man by the chest and slammed him into the ground so hard that the floor depressed around him.

You tucked into Donnie’s side and overlooked the crater. “I have an idea.”

“Yes, my love?” Donnie turned to you with faint interest.

The gunman gurgled.

“We’re busy. Let’s have him take himself to the police. He can confess and we won’t have to deal with cover ups or statements.” You touched Donnie’s arm.

Donnie hummed, unconvinced.

The gunman pawed at the mech arm crushing him with his only available hand.

“What do you think?” You looked down at him. “You go or you die?”

“M-my h-hand!” He squawked.

“You point a gun at my mate.” Donnie leaned back with you moving in tandem and the mechanical arm hoisted the gunman up into the air. “Now you ignore their generous offer?”

Reality struck the gunman and he twitched. “I-I-I-I’ll g-go!”

“I’ll know if you take a single step otherwise.” Donnie’s grin split excitement. “I do hope you will.”

“N-no! I-I’ll g-go r-right t-there!!! P-please!!”

Donnie glanced at you with a smoothed out expression.

“Sounds like he gets it.” You rested your chin against him.

Donnie’s lids lowered with affection and the mechanical arms released.

The man hit the floor with another squeak of pain before he scrambled. He smeared blood from his broken hand out in a wet streak before he stumbled on a twisted angle straight towards the door. As if in a movie panning shot, you and Donnie both watched after him and caught sight of the young man at the register. 

His hands were up in surrender.

A phone hung from one of his palms.

“He called the police.” You told Donnie. “ETA?” 

Your boyfriend checked his gauntlet for a tiny screen projection. “Ten minutes.”

“Hey, we really just wanted to buy some soap. Is it cool if we keep looking?” You raised your voice a little to address the shop attendant.

The guy gawked.

Donnie seemed to realize something and in a slow withdrawal, the mechanical arms retreated and morphed back into his battle shell.

As if on cue, the attendant’s hands similarly lowered. “Seriously?!”

“Yeah.” You held up the body wash bottle still in your hand.

“… Whatever, sure!” The attendant slumped in a stool and mumbled about his day.

“Okay, I was almost done with this one.” You walked back to the selection with your eyes glued to the tiny print.

Donnie came with and curled around your back, pressing impatient kisses to your neck.

“Sweet, I gotta focus.”

“Love you.” He husked in your ear.

“Me too.” You spoke distantly. “Ugh dangit, not this one either.”

The moment you reached to put it back on the shelf, Donnie took advantage of the real estate and groped under your lifted arm.

You held back a moan. “D-Don…!”

“Want you.”

“I know, but the paint…” You fumbled the last bottle, but kept it from falling off the shelf.

He churred honey into your ear.

You shuddered as you turned the bottle over to read. “I saw you run up behind the asshole. I’m surprised you waited.”

He released a hot breath from where he was nibbling your ear lobe. “You were stunning. I wouldn’t dare interrupt. That control, incredible.”

“I didn’t do anything…” Your eyes drifted and you leaned to give him better access.

He latched to give you a hickey close to your hairline.

You released a shaky breath.

He gave a final hard suck before moving his lips away only long enough to mumble. “I see sodium palmitate, which falls in a similar group. Try the bar.”

“I-is that on there? Damn…” You put the bottle back and he moved with you as you grabbed said rectangle.

A churr rumbled in your ears as you found the ingredients list scant and to the point.

“This one’s perfect, fuck, this one.”

“Very good.” He pressed a wet kiss below his mark and removed himself from you.

You stumbled a few steps before making it to the register to pay.

“Uh, thank… you…?” The young man mumbled unsure as he rang you up.

“Sure.” You shrugged and caught the soap bar to leave after the transaction.

“You’ll receive payment for the floor.” Donnie tossed casually as he followed you out.

You heard the attendant give another confused thanks.

Your legs pumped with power walking purpose back towards your apartment. Donnie’s longer legs kept him easily in tow and he had a light hearted air as you walked. Reaching your apartment in record time, you both jockeyed at the front door and in doing so a question popped out of you. 

“You going soft?”

He slowed and turned to you with a curious shift of his pupil.

“Hot or not, there was a gun pointed at me. I doubt there’s much what if, but it just feels like usually you would have killed or maimed anyone the second they tried a stunt like that.”

Donnie sugared his gaze before he bent in, nice and slow, to put his face on level with yours. With a lethally cute tip of his head, his gaze simmered. “So what if I am?”

Your stomach somersaulted.

“So what if I am going soft?” He repeated and the tip of his beak took the faintest whiff of the air.  “Maybe I prefer domestication…? Doesn’t smell like a problem.”

You murmured his name and the door felt especially heavy where you were stuck holding it.

“Being kept…” He flicked a low lidded gaze over you. “I was not aware of the advantages. It seemed a noose, but a docile predator has the same bite while no longer having to fight to be fed.”

“It’s about how they use it…” You whispered and ghosted your lips over his before charging inside.

He followed close after and, as you tried to deviate toward the elevator, he hooked your waist. You were launched up several flights of stairs in a way that reminded you of a tender version of your first night together and this time there was no need to fumble at the door. You slipped in first and took a few dancing steps with your purchase obvious in hand.

Donnie leered behind and you deposited the soap bar in the bathroom before meeting him in the bedroom. The kiss there seared intensity, but starkly contrasted the slow way he worked up the bottom of your top. You mewled against his lips, struggling with quick urges and he scolded you with promises of more. You relented and broke apart long enough for him to disrobe you.

Bra as a last hold, you took your turn to steal his sweater away and did so with far less grace. You dragged him with his long arms on a tug and he chuckled his way to wrapping them around you. Both for a hug and then for the greater purpose of unfastening your bottoms, you peppered him with kisses. He lounged in them, slowing as he shimmied fabric down your hips. By the time your bottom hit the floor, he was drunkenly shoving his tongue into your mouth.

Winding and sipping on heat, you melded together. Your bra was soon popped and you tipped your body to let it fall from your shoulders as he did his own fly. Coordination had you both naked and clothes were kicked away toward the living room before you pulled him to the paint selection.

“Mark me as yours.” His voice ghosted your ears.

You both exhaled and sighed dreamy as you picked black for its sharp pigmentation. Selecting one of the soft brushes that he’d designated for his skin, you dunked bristles to pigment before bringing up a darkened tip. He eyed it and then you with trust so full that it threatened to drip the same as your implement. Moving forward with a flexible wrist, you swiped black over his neck. A reclamation of his brand, he handed himself over and the loll back of his head said the sensation felt good. Stroking to enhance and taking care in making a bold collar, streaks dripped and rolled along his musculature. It adorned his painted choker with black pearls that beckoned you to swipe over the plump tips of. 

Donnie surfaced enough to try to watch you as you finger painted from the pool and wrote your name amongst the drip just under his blackened throat.

“If found, please return to…” You teased and kissed his cheek.

He churred lightly. “May I?”

“Of course.” You held the brush out for him and he politely declined.

You followed him to the table. He took a long time selecting his own instruments and in the meantime you cleaned your brush. Capping off the black paint, you set the brush off to dry in a little section of the table that was set up for that. Donnie then approached you, ready, with a carefully turned paint canister in one hand and a medium sized precision brush in the other.

“Stand over here.” He gestured and walked himself toward the middle of the bedroom.

You trailed after and strained to see what color he had.

���Don’t look.” He grinned knowingly. “Eyes on mine. I want to surprise you.”

You adjusted your posture to look at him comfortably. “Won’t I be able to tell from the strokes?”

He hummed with little interest. “Maybe.”

You watched the way his lids fell as he uncapped his paint. His little lashes moved as a brush of their own, protecting the dimensionality of his eyes. You watched every little dip and dart of his pupil as he acquired paint. His focus shifted, all engrossed, as the brush dabbed wet to your arm. First with a blot so he could test the thickness and viscosity of the paint, he swiped and adjusted his brush’s load before he committed to a full stroke.

A swift line that he focused on cleanly finishing off, there was a curl of movement. In an attractive turn of his head, he must have looked at the paint pot to get more on his brush. You were enamored to watch your mate work with this new point of view. So often when you were on the receiving end, he was doing his best to distract you. Now you only had clear attention and with it you could commit all of him to memory. From another swipe to your current arm and then moving to the other, you tracked him the whole way. With his eyes focused on the task, you got to see every emotion pass over them.

You understood the phrase windows to the soul, but the phrase took new meaning when you watched him like this. His dedication flowed out in acts of service and he was a machine ever taking information in. If you were to agree with his domestication comment, you’d only do so because he’d allowed it. He was a wild animal that had judged you in a lengthy trial period before he ever chanced bowing his head to your worth.

It was an honor bestowed as great as knighthood and, as such, Donnie knelt before you. You wished you still had your paints to both lay your decree and also because you could now see you had missed a spot on his collar. With his head down you could see the missing connection clearly and wanted to belt off the green. It would match his villainous color scheme nicely where he’d left his mask on and you hardly noticed him painting your legs until he lifted up with a satisfied smile.

“Done already?”

Donnie grinned and went to put his brushes up. “One moment for the reveal.”

“Yessir.” You tried to parse out the damp skin and what it marked off.

It was clearly each of your limbs, but hadn’t seemed to be a complicated design.

Before you could ponder further, Donnie appeared behind you to lead you over to the mirror. “Eyes.”

You let him move you and followed only his gaze in the reflection.

In a quick shuffling to get you full framed, he then nodded for you to look at yourself.

You did and found the slightest purple on your arms. You turned first to the right, finding two connected blocks on your upper arm, but also revealed two disconnected ones on your legs. Your smile grew as you turned the other way and found more purple pixels, all identical replicas of Donnie’s markings. “Interesting brand.”

“I do appreciate a theme.” He kissed your cheek over your shoulder. “You look ravishing.”

“If it’s a theme, you forgot the green.” You chewed your lip and leaned into him. “I love it. Understated, but you.”

Donnie chuffed. “Skin needs to breathe. A full-body paint job would cover your pores and chance a disruption of the sweating and cooling mechanisms in your body. if we were to test something like that, might as well have a cloaking broach.”

You turned toward him. “What is that? You’ve said it before and I think Shelly has like… alluded to it?”

“It’s a stone that allows one to cloak their appearance.”

“Got that much.” You teased and made it obvious you were returning for the paints.

He followed you to clean his brush. “A mystic item then.”

“Do you have one?” You picked the same pair you had before and gestured him to the bed.

He sat on the crinkling tarp covering and waited for you. “No. I liken my visage.”

Half sitting on the edge, you leaned around him to close the painted collar and then drifted brushstrokes down his front. “I do too.”

He churred affection.

You tried to paint his plastron and frowned at how the different texture streaked the paint. “How does the stone figure out what you should look like? Do you think of an image in your head and it makes it happen?”

“Some thought, but as with most mysticism, it trends illogical. Let’s imagine if you were to don it and you chose to cloak as a turtle mutant.”

You nodded both to him and how you tested various brushing techniques to get the black to lacquer.

“You may not be a softshell.”

That caught your attention and you sent surprise toward him. 

He had latent irritation creasing his features. “Unfortunately there’s a certain luck of the draw. There’s a high chance you may be, considering my DNA…” He reached out and pressed a targeted digit into your pelvis. “… is soaked into yours, but I digress. It isn’t assured.”

You stalled a stroke and kissed him hard.

He held you a metered amount away to protect your paint work.

You tapered off for a few needy presses before reluctantly continuing. “Is that why you chose to disguise yourself with make-up instead? Didn’t like the way the broach changed you?”

He gave a faint chirp of approval at your memory.

You stole another kiss. 

“I feel compelled to clarify: I’ve never used one.” 

“Don’t like the chance of how it’ll change you.” You corrected. 

You chuckled and felt his approving air follow you down onto your knees so you could have better access to painting further down his plastron. 

“Share?”

“I was just thinking this would totally turn into washboard abs.” You gestured to him and layered on extra coats to thicken the lines you’d drawn.

“You’re curious?”

“Not really.” You tried to make a circle, but it wasn’t clean. “You don’t like it, so I’m not really interested.”

“You wouldn’t prefer me human.”

It was a statement and, though he hadn’t asked, you knew he needed reassurance. You sent it up to him by fully stopping and giving him your full attention. “Never.”

He had a wickedness to his gaze. “Monster fucker.”

You splatted your brush right into his beak and he chuffed droplets to clear his nose.

Still, he laughed and you continued your work with a pout.

Criss-crossing lines, you did a few touch ups, before you sat back to look at your work as a whole.

“I could acquire two.”

You moved your attention to his face.

“For science. I appreciate that sort of intrigue.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

“It’s not a physiological change. Only cosmetic.”

“And mystic.” You gave a lazy grin.

He sneered.

“Anything with you.” You stood.

He took a deep breath before doing the same. “Shall I see your masterpiece?”

“Please.” You swept your hand in a gesture to the full length mirror.

He moved to his reflection and recognition hit him immediately. “A harness.”

“Yes, my pet.” You pressed to his carapace and kissed his arm. “That’s kept.”

“I never considered…” He tilted his head.

“Wearing one? I doubt that.” You came around to look him over again.

He shook his head. “You didn’t connect the collar.” He pointed at this throat and then down. “I never thought to wear a harness without.”

“Oh…”

“Oh.” He mimicked your interest. “I’ll whip something up.”

“Use the link rings.” You leaned into him.

“Of course.” He kissed your forehead and took your chin. “Make-up gave me an idea.”

“What do you need?” You held up your brush and paint.

“Same purple paint, thin square brush.”

“Got it.” You moved to trade off your equipment and brought his requested materials back.

“Eyes closed.”

Your lids drifted and you tipped your chin up for him.

He startled you by catching your lips first then he moved to paint. Careful around your eyes, you felt him make more rectangles skirting down your cheeks. He then was careful over your lids and brows. He blew lightly to seal his art and then moved you gently over to the mirror. You held firm with closed eyes until he gave the signal and opened them to find he’d done an inspired extension of his markings on your face.

“I look cool…” You admired his work around blinks.

“Very…” He breathed warmth into your ear.

You tipped your head for him and he pressed kisses down the side of your neck.

A distraction, a cool brush dabbed your lower back and you arched with a small gasp.

“You k-know…” You managed as he painted what was clearly another rectangular shape. “I’d figured you go womb tattoo before a tramp stamp.”

He slowed only for a moment before he ducked his head to ensure his design. “Dangerous.”

“How so?”

“I would only need the correctly imbued ink.” He skirted your ass and you twitched with sensitivity.

“What…?” You drunkenly slurred as he exchanged his brush for a hand to squeeze the thick of a cheek.

“With such and the correct branching symbol, my birth control would be rendered useless.”

“Ah!” One of his fingers skirted between your legs.

“Best not to give me that power as of yet.” A finger ghosted your sex before another came around and pressed a thick stroke to your upper mons.

Your voice pitched and your head fell to see he’d smeared red paint across your lower belly. “Wha…?”

“Bed.” He nudged you in the direction, but kept himself out of sight. “I need to mark your inner thighs.”

You nodded and the moment you took a step, he slipped a finger into your folds. Knees weakening, you stumbled towards the bed riding his digit. It tested and teased your entrance and you were left to catch the edge of the mattress. He manipulated you only enough so you were sturdy before he disappeared. It took a moment to catch your breath, but you rotated and sat. He appeared, already on his knees with a brush in hand. With him before you, you spread for him and hiked your legs up against the tarp on the mattress. Your feet slid a few times as you tried to find a foothold and he lost his patience to bury his face into your core with a churr.

You cried out his name as he tasted you. His hands occupied with his brush, he rooted deeper with only his snout and lapped at your essence. Your appendages free in contrast, you fisted his mask and pulled. He clearly resisted and you saw through your delirium to how he was specifically keeping his snout from bumping that red blotch he’d made. An odd adornment hanging above your crotch, he licked up a fat stripe to suckle your clit and you bucked against his face once before he retreated. “Damned I can’t do both!”

You slumped a metered amount. “Can’t both cum in me and eat me out?”

“Yes.” He growled lightly before lifting an arm with a brush. His other appendage dipped to support the first and his perfected posture reminded you of a calligraphy master. You meant to ask if that was a skill of his, but the moment the moistened brush tip touched your thigh, you felt a current rip through your flesh. In expert strokes, the feather light tip wafted over you leaving blocks in its wake. You couldn’t help but compare it to the saliva and slick dripping from you. In contrast, it clung to you thick and wrote out a binding contract.

Property of Donatello down one inner thigh.

A prepared table that was ready to house marks of his ownership was left blank on the other.

You were leaned forward to look them over when he rose up enough to reveal his throbbing erection.

“Oh fuck…” You gasped.

“Shall we begin? See just how much of me you can hold?” He carved out a promise in scalding breath as he lined himself up with your weeping sex.

“D-Donnie, we have time. It’s not a race…”

“It’s not?” He smiled and was slow in bending forward to claim your lips. “I believe it is. Did you honestly think I wasn’t still competing with that inane heat-brained bastard?”

“That’s you-u-u-u!” Your word warbled as he pressed his glans in.

“Me.” He spat and shifted his angle with his hips alone to sink into you.

You moaned and moved to hold him.

He caught your limbs before he gave his body over to you. 

You felt something wet smear higher than anything between your legs.

For a moment, his weight dropped onto you and he gave a needy wriggle as if his cock wasn’t fully stuffed to its usual depths. 

You groaned at the pleasurable weight and felt how his entire body retreated as he pulled a calculated amount out. 

Look down. 

You looked. 

Where there had once been red, there was now purple. 

Looking up, you saw the same purple blotch on the bottom of Donnie’s plastron. 

Only his was rimmed with blue where yours had red. 

He had mixed the colors to create his own on your body right on the spot where you’d balloon with his kid. “Fuck me.”

“My pleasure.”

You wished you could say you lost track, but it was patently untrue as. Donnie, without fail, stopped each time he filled you up to make a tally mark on your inner thigh. He’d then wait, regardless of how far along you were, to ensure the dash would not smear. It was only then he’d return to you with a vigor that seemed to only grow with each symbol. 

By five you were delirious and he broke from sex to spill paint. Moving to abstract, he brought you back through slick digits that slid smoothly over your skin. He forewent brushes and dotted off designs until you were present and returned the favor. Together you tumbled and Donnie marked off zones with reminders of the memories they carried. It was a list of his downfall and you told him so. He churred warmth and between affectionate kisses, you drew lazy lines that covered his scars. The constant slick turned the many paints a neutral brain tone and with it an idea struck you.

Instructing him to get on his belly, you straddled his thighs with several bottles. You mixed outside the canvas of his body before you descended on his carapace with purpose. He was initially unnerved as you filled in the scarred gaps to his shell, but he settled at the firm pressure and reassurances that this is what you did in exchange. For each piece of him that he’d offered over, you patched them carefully to where they were meant to be. You’d never allow him to regret his decision to love you and it was when gnarled skin was filled in did you press your full palm down to the center of his spine.

“Donatello, you have my heart, my word, my everything. Whatever you choose, soft or domestic or otherwise, I’m going to make sure you can do it to your heart’s content.”

You stilled thinking he’d give a mating call or something of the like, but he sat silent.

You stared down at your hand that blended in with the color of his rough shell. 

“Y/N.”

His voice sounded watery and you tried to quell concerns. “Yeah?”

“Let go so I can gather you.”

You hadn’t considered you were holding him back. The moment your hand lifted, he flipped you over and made a thousand vows in return.

💜NEXT💜

What can I say other than I love my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

I stumbled upon Fuegoleon slander today, so can I request comforting fluff with Fuelara, please?

We don't tolerate Fue slander in this house! So YES

I took my time, but this was very overly self-indulgent to write, and I just might make it be the most of a chapter of The Vows We Made once I get there. Anyways! I hope you enjoy! ^^

Pairing: Fuegoleon x Solara Fanfic type: Oneshot Genre: Fluff/romance Length: ~3.1k Contains: sleepy Fue, mentions of their twins, mentions of Salamander, maybe some possessive themes if you squint??? (The idea of "my family, I need to protect it", does that count??), just pure fluff, they're in love, and go to sleep There is a mention of "Ms. Rose", who is Briar Rose belonging to @/koneko-pi !

The long, quiet corridors of the castle that lead into an office, among a lot of things, which were lined by large windows that faced the courtyard. One could almost see the trees and the bushes, flowerbeds planted in there, but from this height, one would have needed to walk closer to the sheets of glass. And thus, it was only the faint light of the moon that could be seen coming from the outside. Just the sight of the dark blue autumn skies; the sunset had gone already.

Even the servants had gone home, or the bed, for the most parts already. Only the guards outside of the castle walls were awake to keep an eye; even though keeping an eye open was difficult both outside and inside of the castle walls.

Solara could swear that he steps must’ve wobbled ever so slightly as she made her way down the halls, lit by the light of the moon that cast shadows at her feet. The shadows she barely saw as she struggled to keep her eyes open from the state of fatigue she was feeling. The weight of it that she felt had increased exponentially over the last few years.

It’s only age, she told herself, though she was barely past 30, not yet closing in on 40, even if that decade in her life loomed somewhere in the horizon. Not that the number bothered her. It was more so just that she could feel herself getting tired more easily.

She couldn’t keep up with the kids, who wanted to stay up all night long. Or so they said, and still dozed off at 9 the latest. Which was good. They needed their rest.

It was only that the twins had been restless during the last couple of days. The last of the baby teeth would be coming out, which was the cause of the poorly slept nights lately. This night included.

But now they were finally asleep; in their rooms, safely tucked in with Salamander by their side. Or, Sal’s basket by them to be more precise.

The Great Spirit of Fire had assumed a smaller form while living in the castle, and preferred to sleep in his small little wicker basket nestled in a blanket. But the basket needed to be in the common room that joined the bedroom of the twins, so that it could be equally close to both of them.

Solara had reasoned to herself that it was partially a wish of Sal, and partially Fue’s wish amplified in the dragonic spirit. The wish to keep safe. To protect. Make sure that his family was being looked after. The sentiment of ‘my family’.

And it would allow Fue to stay up to date via Salamander, though their communication was what it was. Limited to kinds of hunches. Feelings. That was still the idea how Solara understood it. That it was a non-verbal connection, which didn’t allow for that complicated discussion as with some other spirits might. It was just the nature of Salamander. He was a non-verbal creature, and his methods of communication were limited.

But she didn’t mind. She didn’t think any of them minded. It was just how it was.

A way in which father could be with the family, while working; he could keep an eye on the kids, while having to perform his duty. Even if from behind a desk. And there was no reason to lock the kids, or the family, into a sitting room next to his office.

No... life was out there. It was in the blades of grass, in sunshine, the glimmering of stars, in the frost bites and sweet drinks and the smile of those you hold dear. Life was never meant to be confined within the walls of an office decorate with motifs of grandeur.

The things he says... she mused to herself with a slight shake of her head. And still he very much confines himself into that office... her eyes fell in a slow blink, as her gaze and attention were directed somewhere far, far away, but her steps knew the way nonetheless. It was inscribed into her bones by now; she didn’t need to think about it. All for the sake of the people, he says... she smiled to herself, even if the smile bore a veil of melancholy over it. While trying to make it into every little event, to be there during bed time, read to Leon and Cyra, even though he’ll need to go back to complete something more... always something more...

Her chin lifted as she thought about it. All those moments when he had emerged from the office, with eyes that seemed to bear the weight of the world. But as the kids would go running to him, the weight would subside, he’d pick them up, and tell them how much he missed them.

He doesn’t-, I know that he wouldn’t need to come to us while he’s still working. To take a break to do that. And most wouldn’t. They’d just... complete whatever is on their desk and come home when it’s time for it. And I know... I know that he tries *so hard*. To be everywhere. To come home for a while, chat to the kids, maybe play with them for a while during the busy work days, and then it’s “off to bed, I’ll read a story to you”, she smiled at the thought. The precious moments during the hardest days.

Because during the good days, those that he had off, as much as he can have them off, he’d spend more time with Cyra and Leon. Give them as much attention as he could. Be as good of a father as he could.

But... she couldn’t claim that it wouldn’t be hard for the two of them. Because between work and the kids, there was very little time for the two of them. Which... it just made things a bit difficult. Not that they could claim there to be a real problem, but sometimes they would have liked to just spend time with each other. Cuddle and kiss and... perform spousal activities... maybe sleep a little longer... all the things for which there didn’t seem to be time or energy.

All the things... well... maybe after some time... The first 2 years are the most difficult, or so they say. And then it’ll ease up on sleep at least.

She sighed to herself as she reached the door. The large wooden door which was decorated with some carvings and a golden handle. To signify that it wasn’t just any door. Or at least that it wasn’t a cleaning closet out of all the things. Not that she could imagine anyone mistaking it for one in the first place. Not in this part of the castle.

Her hand landed onto the cold metal surface, without a knock. After all these years, there was no knock.

She wasn’t sure how many times he had had to tell her that she was among the few people, who wouldn’t need to knock when it came to him. That she’d always be welcomed, no matter what.

And how many times had it taken that she hadn’t believed? That she had still knocked. Maybe not waited for a reply, but had still knocked.

During day time she still would.

A silly little thing. She deemed it with a smile.

Just a small thing that amused her. Perhaps amused him too. A kind of a game for them to play. As foolish as it might have sounded. Him having to tell her with a smirk that the door was open, and how it’d always be open for her. And how she’d argue back with a grin of her own, telling him that she couldn’t know what he was in the middle of. That it was courteous. A little game of cat and mouse. Or maybe just two cats play fighting.

Perhaps the latter would be more fitting.

Perhaps that was why when she opened the door, there was no sound. Quiet as a cat.

But when her eyes were granted an image of the room from behind the wooden surface of the door, she stopped.

Just stood there with her hand on the door handle, and looked at her husband. Sleeping over the desk. A single candle lighting the room on his desk.

His mana hand wasn’t manifested, but his left arm was under his head. His chest was rising and falling, and there was the sound of steady, heavy breathing flowing through the air. It wasn’t quite a snore, nor did it sound forced. Just a very... intent way of breathing. Maybe due to the position he was in.

A hum broke through the steady sound. It vibrated through the air, speaking of how it must’ve risen from his throat, as a faint frown appeared on his brows.

But it disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.

A small smile tugged up the corners of Solara’s lips as she looked at him. Poor thing... he must be exhausted...  

She took a few steps forward, closer to the table, with feather light steps, careful not to wake him.

Bed would be more comfortable... and if he stays in that position he’ll have a sore neck tomorrow. He’s bound to, even though his exercise routine keeps him in good shape and his muscles open. For the most part at least, she chuckled under her breath. But... since he is tired enough to have fallen asleep there, maybe I shouldn’t wake him up... at least for a while... Let him rest for some time and then... then wake him...

Her eyes turned to the door of the sitting room that was next to the office. There’d be a closet where there were blankets and a few extra pillows. Which might have been unconventional for a sitting room, but... they had deemed it better to have them, in case of such situations. An afternoon nap.

Perhaps there lied a danger too. Because since they had blankets and pillows close by, a nap would be more tempting.

A terrible danger, really.

Another amusing thought.

She looked at her husband, still sleeping over the desk with a neutral expression.

Stay there, she thought, joked to herself, before making her way to the sitting room and to the closet from where she found a blanket. A part of her was thankful that they oiled all the hinges of the doors so well, and made sure that no floorboards were creaking.

Yes, of course, it made sense to make sure that it all was in the best condition, but... sometimes such little things could me missed. Especially if you’re only moving around during daytime, when small sounds such as those didn’t seem quite so apparent. While during night time, they were as if amplified. Which was why she was mindful to close the closet, and the door, as silently as possible, before tip-toeing to him.

Don’t nap for too long, she thought while opening the blanket in her hands. You’ll get a sore neck if you do...

She placed the blanket over him, around his shoulders with as little movement as possible, and leaned over him.

But as soon as she did, his eyes begun cracking open and a groggy hum left him.

“Mm... What time is it?” He asked, while trying to gather his senses. His tone was quiet, nearly distant, like he was trying to grab onto reality while still being partially asleep.

“Almost two..” she whispered back before leaning closer and pressing a tender kiss onto his temple. One that was warm and comforting; that held a promise of a soft, warm bed where he might rest with a smile on his face. And the knowledge that he wasn’t alone in the world. That he had someone with whom he could share his smiles and his sorrows just the same.

“Mmm...” he hummed again before taking a deep breath and leaning back in his seat. “Maybe I should call it a night...”

“Maybe,” she half teased, half smiled before placing another kiss on top of his head.

“Did the kids fall asleep?” He asked as he pushed back his chair and stood up, making a dragging sound, wood scraping against would, break through the otherwise silent room.

“After a while,” she replied with a hushed tone, almost as if she was still trying to be careful not to wake him. “I have the monitor with me, just in case too.”

“The monitor?” He frowned while looking at her. “Oh yes, yes,” he continued before pinching the bridge of his nose. “The device Ms. Rose of the Research Department gave us...”

“Yes,” she gave a small nod, during which her eyelids fell in a slow blink. “She is a good friend.”

He hummed in agreement while pushing his chair under the desk.

His expression was neutral, as if there were no thoughts running through it. Which was probably true from his state of fatigue.

“Ready for bed?” She suggested, half asked, while reaching for his hand.

“Yes,” he uttered, while taking her hand into his, and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll take a quick shower first.”

She gave him a nod, while taking a step back to lead him towards the door.

“I’ll keep the bed warm meanwhile,” she assured him while squeezing his hand.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he smiled to himself as his steps followed hers, easy and natural, like the flow of a river.

Like this was the only course he should take. As if this, squeezing her hand and following her to rest, was just like drawing breath.

As if the way back to their room was no journey at all, despite the winding, twisting and turning corridors of the castle where one could get lost in. Plenty of people did. And even him, admittedly, sometimes needed to think what might be the quickest route from one place to another. Still, after all these years of living there, he still needed to think from time to time.

But these steps, over which the silvery moonlight cascaded; the way it reflected from her hair, and embraced her form, as if she was some divine being brought to him in sleep rather than a mortal just like him... It felt like no time passed, as he followed her.

Time didn’t exist.

It was just the two of them.

It was just him, trusting that she’d lead him to the sanctity of their bedroom, where it was soft, warm and safe.

As if he wouldn’t have known the way.

But perhaps he would have stumbled in his drowsy state.

Perhaps, perhaps not. None could tell. For it was left in the sea of possibilities.

The sea that wasn’t important; that lost all meaning as they reached their room, as if in a dream.

The door was closed behind them, and he stopped, but didn’t let go of her hand as she tried to continue further into the room. But the stop created a tug, and the tug made her turn around with raised brows and hum out a question. A simple: “Hm?”

It was only then that he took a step closer, as if to step into her embrace, and pressed a kiss onto her forehead.

“Go to sleep, my love,” he whispered against her skin, letting the words glide over her like a river of warmth and tender affection. Like something so soft and gentle he couldn’t name, even if given a millenium to describe it. “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he promised.

He always promised, and he always kept that promise.

“I can’t promise to stay awake for ten minutes,” she partly teased, partly joked, but mostly she told the truth.

“I’m not expecting it,” he hummed with an amused smile while pressing his head against hers. “You should sleep, if you’re tired,” he told her. “I’ll find my way to you.”

She smiled to him with closed eyes, not making a move to make her way to the bed.

“I always will,” he promised again. Yet another promised he intended to keep. Another promise he had always intended to keep. One that felt like it was a promise that he had made so many times before that he couldn’t count.

But would he need to? Count them? He didn’t deem it necessary.

“Go on, my love, I’ll be there soon,” he nudged her head with his, before slipping into the bathroom. And she slipped into bed in the meantime.

The covers were soft. A bit cold, but they’d warm soon enough.

She rolled onto her side, towards his pillow, and resisted the urge to pull the pillow closer so that she might bury her nose into it and breathe in his scent. Just like she resisted the urge to shift onto his side of the bed. Just like she resisted the urge to gather his side of the covers into her arms, so that she might feel him close to herself again.

All the things she resisted. And yet she could feel her consciousness slipping away.

Little by little, she was drifting into a sea of dreams.

But then again, she hadn’t promised to wait for him to get to bed. She trusted that he’d some soon.

Within ten minutes.

Even if those minutes felt like an eternity.

Or maybe one fifth of it.

A fraction.

The bed shifted next to her.

She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids felt heavy. Too heavy to open fully, but still her hand reached closer.

There was another kiss on her temple.

“Thank you for warming up the bed,” he whispered. But she could hear him loud and clear; his voice vibrated to her through her heartstrings, or perhaps the golden threads of fate that had spun into ropes. “I loved you,” he whispered again.

She smiled, must’ve smiled. Her hand took a hold if his. Fingers intwined together with his into a secure hold.

“[I love you],” he professed again, sounding a little more drowsy than a moment before.

“[And I love you,]” she replied with a hushed tone. “With all the days I have left,” she continued, not sure if he was still on the brink of the twilight zone, or already within a dream. “And even beyond it...”

She wasn’t sure if he’d hear, but she was sure that he knew. He knew, but still she needed to tell.

She’d always need to tell him. To remind him.

That she loved him too.

She’d always need to tell...

And through the darkness, her drowsy state, she could feel him squeeze her hand back.

[laylajeffany]

Word Count: 800,000+ (in-progress, with regular updates) Rating: T

Summary “Wednesday, you are so new to love’s torturous sting. It simply takes time to get used to the poison, my darling. You have to build up a tolerance for it. Then – you’ll start to wonder how you ever lived without it.”

Enid accidentally summons a demon in an attempt to communicate with her wolf, and somehow – that is not Wednesday’s biggest problem upon the return to Nevermore. With a raging suspicion that Principal Weems was not actually murdered, Wednesday starts to unravel her latest mystery while trying not to unravel herself. As emerging powers cause her to manifest physical symptoms, Wednesday has to learn to rely on those around her if she is going to grow as a Raven.

Ultra slow-burn WenClair, moving forward in an organic relationship, building from roommates to best friends to more. Picking up on some plot points from S1, Wednesday develops not only new abilities, but emotions and friendships as she examines her life through her new lens of Nevermore.

If you're new to this fic and unsure about starting due to the length, below the break will give you a spoiler-filled idea about when some of the major plot points/relationships happen.

Author's Note As I am squeezing in my writing time before vacation, I am reflecting on how proud I am of this fic. This is year 21 of writing fanfiction for me, and of course as we grow, our talents naturally increase, but I have never felt so accomplished about a piece of writing before. If you need some light reading (lmfao this fic will top one million words by the end of summer), I would like to recommend my own story. I don't ever do that and I probably won't do it again - but writing this fic has been such a bright spot in my life, and every opportunity I have to carve out a few thousand words I feel myself transcend.

When I received an old Addams Family book in the mail (here) a few weeks ago, I was flipping through and found the above summary of Wednesday. I have never felt more proud to be borrowing another character, as I feel that I do Charles Addams' Wednesday justice in this writing as we explore her sensitive/poetic side in addition to the harshness of her 2022 adaptation. (Don't worry - Enid will find Wednesday's sixth toe when she finally visits the Addams family home in Chapter 21.)

Chapters 1-5: Wenclair Roommate Friendship developing as Wednesday realized she'd genuinely missed Enid over the summer.

Main focus of early chapters is Wednesday trying to determine how Weems is alive, focusing on her powers starting to develop as physical symptoms and discovering more about how to tap in to her Raven abilities with the help of her mentor, the new administrator, Dr. Zypher. Dr. Zypher (39) is a herpetologist with a psychic ability to work with reptiles. She has been dating the only other known Raven, Emiliana, for 23 years, since they met via Larissa Weems at Nevermore. These two OCs have a very supportive and important role in the story. (We needed adults and ALL the important ones were killed off in S1. These OCs have been extremely well-received by the audience and are real people with flaws and strengths, distinct personalities. No Mary-Sues here, I promsie.)

Chapter 6: Enid breaks up with Ajax, Wednesday and Enid get closer than ever when the spirit Enid released attacks again. Wednesday vows to protect her. As Wednesday has found Weems trapped in her accidental shape-shift, she starts looking for divination-related ways to change her back. Wednesday starts to have to cope with very uncomfortable feelings that emerge from the ever-darkening of her visions as her powers start to grow massively.

Chapter 8: Wednesday starts to think she's closer to Enid than she ever has been to anyone else before. Wednesday learns about the importance of being vulnerable and showing some feelings. Starts to explore ways to protect Weems in her lower life form.

Chapter 10: Wednesday wonders what attraction is supposed to feel like, starts to think there may be something wrong with her. She knows what she is feeling for Enid is more than friendship but isn't experiencing physical attraction. Wednesday casts a powerful protection spell for Enid. Enid reveals that she imprinted on Wednesday during her first transformation and this has caused her extreme stress and alienation from her pack.

Chapter 11: Wednesday and Enid confront the spirit again. As it tries to possess Enid, Wednesday's protection spell holds and she confesses that night that she won't let anything happen to her because she loves her. She admits, she isn't sure if that love is romantic. Enid agrees with the sentiment and they decide to give it all more time. The girls start to work together to help Wednesday divert from the negative energy within her divination as part of her Raven nature to blend their energy together, earning more positive energy for Wednesday shared by Enid. Enid's mother is determined that Nevermore finds something to do about Enid's imprinting.

Chapter 13: Finally, the girls are dating after the full moon. It's adorable. Enid talks to her father and requests him to visit Nevermore.

Chapter 14: Things really take off with ways to help Weems transform Halloween - Wednesday temporarily banishes the spirit with Enid's help as they have grown so close.

Chapter 15: Wednesday starts to lose herself to divination a little bit as she becomes more desperate to complete the transformation on Weems. Dr. Zypher's Raven girlfriend arrives.

Chapter 16: Wednesday finally puts the pieces together and knows what she has to do to transform Weems. Enid's father arrives - she formally leaves her pack and considers Wednesday her main family. The Addams Family have accepted her whole-heartedly.

Chapter 17:-19 Successful transformation of Weems leads to extreme physical consequences for Wednesday. Lots of Wenclair Hurt/Comfort Wednesday resolves lots of tension with her family

Chapter 20: Closure of the first semester of events Wednesday invites herself into the "Nevermore Network" - an ambiguous concept alluded to throughout the story of how the Outcast world is all connected. These adults are increasingly interested in Wednesday's extreme shows of power and she goes behind her family/admin wishes to meet up with them when she returns to school in January.

Chapter 21: Yuletide & New Year - Enid at the Addams Family House

Chapter 22: Start of Second Semester at Nevermore Wednesday gets herself involved in some major drama within the Outcast community via the Nevermore Network Setting the stage for the second semester of events

[baratrongirl]

Hi! I wanted to know if you had any tips on writing fanfictions, especially hurt/comfort. I have so many ideas and I wrote down what I want to do but have no idea how :/

I've been thinking about this ask for weeks now, and I'm still not sure how to go about structuring the reply. So I'm afraid that this isn't going to be the most coherent response, because it's actually a much bigger question than it looks.

Who?

The first thing to consider is who you want to get Hurt, and who you want to do the Comforting. This might be simple (your comfort character is the one who gets Hurt and the one you like to ship with them is the Comforter), but it doesn't have to be. A story with two principal characters is obviously easiest to write, but you can have multiple characters Comforting. (I would only recommend this if you have a group of close people, e.g. the Wright Anything Agency in Ace Attorney fic.) Part of a good Hurt/Comfort is that it increases the relationship level between the characters. So you can write about an existing Romantic Relationship, or a close friendship, or acquaintances, or even strangers if you wish - knowing that they're going to be closer at the end. Having a character who Comforts the Hurt character in the way that they need can be a way of boosting a friendship to a romantic relationship, since the Comforter's responsiveness can be a way for them to show their love for the Hurt one.

Wow this post will be long.

What?

The nature of the Hurt will determine the length of the story. A small Hurt, like receiving homophobic or transphobic abuse from one stranger on one occasion, will not need a great deal of Comforting. A big Hurt, like being kidnapped or abused over a period of time, will need a large amount of Comforting.

There could also be a situation where one small Hurt reminds the Hurt person of other times they have been Hurt in the past, and they have an emotional breakdown that is disproportionate to the size of the current Hurt. (e.g. Klavier's history with his brother Kristoph, or Apollo's history with being in foster care)

Think about what you feel like writing. Emotional abuse? Physical abuse? An injury? Sickfic? etc. And also whether you need to vent about anything in your life. Give your own chronic illness or disability to your favourite character, so it gets written about authentically. Or write about an injustice that is bothering you, with as much understanding as you can muster.

What do you Enjoy? What do you Need?

Is there something that you really like to read about in fic? I personally like it when a usually strong character breaks down emotionally or faints. I'd hate it if one of my actual friends fainted in front of me in real life, but the whole point of fiction is that you can explore "what if"s.

If you're writing about your own illness or disability, is there a way that people can help you that they never seem to think of? Can you write the Comforter doing the exact thing that you yourself want people to do?

Do you want to write something really extreme, like having a Bad Person point a gun at your favourite character? And have their Comforter come in to scream at the Bad Person and karate-chop them? Do you want to have your Hurt person get Hurt by jumping in front of a bullet aimed at the Comforter? Go for it! It's fiction, no one is really getting hurt, but you can explore real feelings through the writing.

Balancing the Story

I always feel that the amount of time/number of words spent on the Hurt and the Comfort need to be relatively balanced. It isn't usually half and half, but maybe more like one third to two thirds? Two fifths to three fifths? Hard to say until you start writing, of course.

I've definitely read stories where the Comfort part turns into a Budding Romance, and it's left the story feeling unbalanced, because that Romance part would have been much better as a sequel. I've also read other stories where the Hurt/Comfort has only been one or two chapters in the entire thing, and it's worked fine that way.

Comforting

I always feel that the Hurt is easy to write but the Comfort less so. It's easy to write a factual account of Klavier breaking his fingernail on a guitar string and how it's the last straw on a shitty day. It's harder to figure out how Apollo is going to help him feel better.

So here are some things that the Comforter needs to do. Listen - The Hurt person may well know what they need. They might need physical affection like a hug. They might need to be left alone. They might need the other to be present in the room but not touching them so that they can breathe. Or they might not know what will help, in which case the Comforter needs to guess at things.

Help - Things which might help in various situations include physical touch, a blanket/pillow/plushie, a drink of water, ice cubes, etc. The Hurt person might also need to scream or yell for a while about the situation until they can calm down. Are they unconscious? Do they need medical attention or to be taken to hospital? Are they sick or injured enough to need an ambulance?

Talk before Doing - Consent is INCREDIBLY important when a person has been Hurt. "Would you like a hug?"-type language if the people are not so close. Ask whether they want to be held loosely or squeezed tightly. If the Comforter has to leave the Hurt person, e.g. to get a first aid kit or some water, have them explain verbally what they are doing.

If the Hurt person is having a panic attack or something similar, then have your Comforter talk them through it. Have the Comforter ask the Hurt person to put their hand on the Comforter's chest, to feel their breathing, and to try to match their breathing. Lots of talking from the Comforter is especially important if the Hurt person is incoherent or unable to speak at all.

Alternate Communication - Some neurodivergent people may go mute in extremely stressful situations and they may have a card which says that it's hard to communicate right now, or multiple cue cards, or a workaround like typing on their phone. Think about how your characters will communicate when Hurt and when well. If the two people in the story are incredibly close, then they might use body language rather than verbal communication. The Hurt person might drop their head onto the Comforter's shoulder, signalling that that they need to be held. Consent CAN be non-verbal and it can seem clunky if an established couple are still expressly asking for consent verbally. (Some smut stories make this mistake, having the couple ask for everything with words, making it seem like they're having their first time together rather than being two people who know each other extremely well.)

Stay Calm - Even if your Comforter is absolutely freaking out inside, have them attempt to stay as calm as possible. If you write from their point of view, you can show the internal freakout as well as the attempt to stay calm. It's often easier to write from the Comforter's point of view especially if the Hurt person is going through something like a faint or a panic attack, because their mind will be blank.

Anything Special that ONLY that Comforter can Do? - Here's an idea you can have for free. I've seen a fair number of authors write Apollo's Perceive as an actual medical condition, that it gives him a headache or migraine or makes him overload. What I've never seen anyone do is have Klavier give him a pair of sunglasses! Migraines make a person sensitive to light, Klavier is a rock star and carries sunglasses everywhere. It would make total sense for him to put his rockstar shades on Apollo's sore eyes.

Try Not to Write in Therapy Speak. Unless your character talks about having been in therapy in the fic, or is known to have been in therapy in the canon, try to avoid overly psychological language. It sounds clunky and unrealistic to have a character analysing themselves - unless they are a person who would authentically do that! (e.g. Miles Edgeworth post-"death") This is triply important if you are writing in the past (e.g. Victorian times, before most therapy was even invented).

Dealing With Commenters

So you've written your story and published it, and now you have people commenting on it. Hopefully they will be polite, enthusiastic and encouraging you to write more.

Sometimes they will be flipping weirdos, coming into your nice Klapollo sickfic and asking you to write a story where Athena is pregnant and having morning sickness, and not only do you have any particular interest in Athena, you are squicked like mad by pregnancy! YOU CAN SAY NO! "No." is a complete sentence, but you can also say "Sorry, that idea isn't for me, I hope you find someone else who can write it for you."

Okay, I think that is literally everything I can think of for now. Some other people might be along to comment on this post, see if they have anything interesting to add. Good luck with your writing! Sorry it took so long to answer you but honestly, it's a hard question :D

[mrfancyfoot]

Raphael x Evie (f!OC) | Rating: E/varied | Chapter 1 on AO3

Chapter 5: Not Even for Eldritch Blast

Raphael offers to make Evie his warlock.

Chapter Rating: G / SFW Word Count: 516 Warnings: None

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Story Summary: All’s fair in love and war. Things are bustling in Baldur’s Gate as the city rebuilds. Life is looking up for Evie who has ambitions set on her (re-)inventions and business ventures as she juggles a certain vampire’s budding political career, the unwitting godhood bestowed upon her by a clan of fanatical fish people, and the increasing attentions of a devil who she believes woefully has no other friends. . Story Tags: Tags will update with progress, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Humor, Manipulation, Eventual Smut, Modern Girl in Baldur's Gate, Canon-Typical Behavior, Varied Chapter Lengths, Not Canon Compliant, Possessive Behavior, Dubious Morality, Dubious Consent, Worldbuilding, Kuo-toa, She's not stuck with him he's stuck with her, Has plot-legs, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Warning: Raphael, Raphael is obsessed, No sleeping with Haarlep, Girl has her shit together and that’s sexy, Neurodivergent OC, Lawful Evil meets Chaotic Neutral, Marriage Contract, Slice of Life

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Evie covered a yawn and looked expectantly towards the man standing in front of his desk.  Human this time.

She wasn’t sure if his insistence on summoning her here this late was some attempt to be covert - it wasn’t like her companions didn’t know of their meetings - or if he just wanted her tired in the hopes that she would be more amenable to…whatever.

Raphael clasped his hands behind his back.  “Korilla tells me that you have shown much interest and initiative in learning magic.  Have you given any thought to becoming a warlock?”  His gaze drifted from her to the ceiling, dropping back with each overly emphasized word until he awaited a reply, “Certainly a consideration when one does not have the time to dedicate the required long years and intense efforts to studying wizardry.”  Another sales pitch, then.  Always gotta hurry, hurry.

“Like Wyll?”  She didn’t know much at all about warlockry - not a class she’d ever played in any of her D&D games - but he was definitely an example of what could happen when your convictions didn’t match your patron’s.  The last thing she wanted was to be stuck in a similar situation.

Except Eldritch Blast, she knew about that.

“Yes, one is given power through a deal made with a patron.  Such as Wyll’s contract with Mizora.  And very much akin to your fox Aspect - you made a deal with a nature spirit in exchange for power.  Trivial power, though all the same.”  Evie found the more she watched him speak - emphatic gestures, purposeful, even over expressing with his face - the more…hypnotic it was.  Like everything was a stage performance.  “I can make you far more powerful than Wyll.  Korilla could even mentor you.”  It was a more fun mask to try to decipher than the normal ones.

“For the low, low price of my soul, I’m guessing?”  Evie side-eyed the contract that appeared near her with a wave of his hand.

“I am a bit possessive,” he frowned coyly, “so your connection with the spirit would be severed.  But I’ll let you keep the fluffy tail and ears.”  She scoffed as his frown turned into a teasing smirk and he drew his fingers together in a mimicry of claws.  “Even the itty, bitty claws and those things trying to pass as fangs in your mouth,” he finished with a sharp click of his teeth.

“No, thanks…”  She batted away the parchment.  “Though, while I’m here…if this is going to be a regular thing, can we at least agree on a day and time?”

“Absolutely, dear fox,” Raphael too readily agreed.

It occurred to her then that her exhaustion had gotten the better of her.  She should have been telling him to stop pulling her here on his whims, yet, instead, she just offered to set up meeting times with him like he was her manager.

And he certainly saw himself that way, no doubt pleased by her suggestion as it only fed the legitimacy of whatever this was.

Maybe she’d be able to get some proper sleep in before, though.

Thank-you for reading! <3

[thecatchat]

Alex - 8-10 years old

@inky-kaleidascope-dimensions

I realized I don't know what 8 year Olds or 10 year Olds are like so I researched. I think 8 years old is a good starting off point for Alex.

Yah, because if each lens is roughly a year in length, and she's 8 in Azure. Teal - 9 years old. Celadon - 10 years old. Sun - 11 years old. Clementine - 12 years old. Crimson - 13 years. Obsidian - 14 years old.

Here's my notes on 8 and 10 year Olds. Got from parents.com

8 year old milestones

- Increased vocabulary, budding learner, independent reading (reading a chapter book under the covers with a flashlight), abstract thought (allow kids to work with larger numbers and conceptualize symbols), understanding how time and money works.

- balance better and move more intentionally, may enjoy roller skating, skateboarding, biking, or dancing,

- can tie their shoes, handwriting becomes smaller and neater, can open lunch items like ziploc bags.

- empathy, desire to be part of a group, increased independence and desire for privacy, ask for sleep overs but may not emotionally be able to stay the whole night.

10 year old milestone

- some start looking and acting more mature, some remain more childlike, start thinking and sounding "almost grown up", able to argue view points and opinions, effective conversationalist at dinner table,

- fifth grade, expanding research skills, may enjoy active play and team sports, art, music, reading, or getting out in nature, enjoy using electronics.

- developing greater independence, having an increased attention span, learning good judgment, showing interest in pop culture,

- growth spurts, growing pains and injuries, more complex feelings and better control over them, may struggle with keeping emotions in check,

- peer pressure can play a big role, poor peer acceptance at 10 is a strong predictor of problematic adolescence, common age to begin to show romantic interest in other kids and explore gender identity,

- admires and imitates older youth, accepts parent/family beliefs, begins to question authority, enjoys creating secret codes, games, and passwords, prefers to work in groups

- place more emphasis on physical appearance and want to conform with peers, body images issues can develop,

[abcd-em]

Talk shop Tuesday question…I think this is right!

First.:I am obsessed, obsessed, obsessed with forever was a sentence! I have noticed that the chapter count has gone up! (Ahhh) when you set up your chapter count, do you try to aim for that many or do you let the spirit move you when writing multiple chapters fics?

Love your writing in general and always excited for things you write! Thanks for the hard work you do!!

Over the last year and a half (?) I've started fully outlining my fics before I even start writing (there's been a few instances where the whims have carried me to posting before I finish planning) so by the time the first chapter is written, I know the direction the fic is going and the rough length of the fic - though as I'm writing, the fics tend to,,, expand

When it comes to inputting the actual chapter length in Ao3,,, I usually lowball it because seeing such a big number compared to where I'm at freaks me out 🙂‍↕️ and I'd rather have to increase it than have readers think they're getting in for a long haul fic and have to decrease it if my plan changes.

For example, I think I put Forever at 28 chapters originally?? Whereas in my outline, it was set to be 32 from the get-go. Obviously,,, that has changed,,,, because well,,, when it comes to actually WRITING those chapters, it's a case of following my whims - while the outline said that XYZ was meant to happen in the chapter, the actual words on the page say that there's a natural chapter end point halfway through so one chapter becomes two.

Sometimes, again with Forever, when I'm halfway through, I realise that there's extra plot points that I want added in

...This was a really long way of saying that it's a little bit of both

[margridarnauds]

❤️ and 👓 for the fanfic asks :)

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

Most recently?

When in doubt, there was one language that Raphael understood better than Common, better than entreaties, tenderness, and professions of love, all of which were useless in the face of efficiency and its favorite bedfellow, ruthlessness. That language was none other than the language of the contract, the clean lines of infernal laid out on parchment, so simple on the surface, so tangled beneath.  

I like it because it really gets to the heart two things: (1) is that this is how Raphael works and (2) this is how Kitrye KNOWS Raphael works. She has no illusions about him at this point (younger Kitrye, some, namely because she really WANTED to believe that he was redeemable or Secretly Good because he loved her, but Duchess of Avernus Kitrye, none). She gets that the way to get him to agree to something isn't via an emotional route -- he loves her, she knows he loves her, they've been through enough at this point in the timeline that that's absolutely beyond doubt, but it isn't in his nature to prioritize that over his own sense of pragmatism -- you get him via a legal argument. Get it in writing, put it into the fine print, argue your case, and tell him how it benefits him to agree to it. She loves her husband enough to know him.

If there's one thing I want people to take away from this one-shot, which is actually intimidating since it'll be their first time really meeting Kitrye (I intend to write out their earlier dynamic, but that is EASILY going to be a novel length fic), it's that she really DOES get him. And it's sad for me on some level as the one who PLAYED Kitrye through her character development in the actual game, because like. The Kitrye that I knew in the beginning is gone to some extent, she'll never be that optimistic paladin again, but also. She's happy. \

For all time favorite lines, from an unpublished chapter of Door #2:

“Hey, everyone has their vices. Increases the appetite.” He paused. “It used to be a way for people in the village to make a little money on the side. Before every meal, they’d make a toast to Miranda, put a little glass on the side of the table for her. Waste of good alcohol, if you ask me. What the woman needs is a goddamn blunt.”  

Against his own will, Ethan laughed. He wasn’t supposed to be laughing - Rose was in danger, Mia was dead. Everything was at risk, everything. But he hadn’t slept in over 24 hours, unless he wanted to count being knocked out and dragged around by Heisenberg (which he didn’t), and he’d worked enough late-night shifts to know what that did to anyone’s sense of humor.

“What?”

Ethan was able to compose himself enough to say, in the most solemn voice possible, “In life and in death, we pass the bong to Mother Miranda.” 

“Okay, now that’s just awful, even for me.” Heisenberg chuckled. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” 

Yes I got Heisenberg's VA to sign a print with "In life and in death we pass the bong to Mother Miranda. It's one of my most prized possessions."

Anyway, in context, this is the first time in the fic where someone's actually DIED -- we're truly getting to a point of no return as we plunge into the third act. Tensions are high, there's a feeling of "oh, people might actually die in this", everyone's getting tired, and this is one of the first signs that Ethan and Heisenberg might actually be compatible with one another long-term, whether it's a friendship or a romance -- they have the same sense of humor. This is a rare lull in the storm that allows them to figure out how the other one works, and it's one of the first times that Heisenberg is really seeing ETHAN when he isn't angry or stressed (I mean...he is both. In context. But he's also so far gone down the Exhaustion Pipeline that he can't even be that angry or stressed.)

👓 What helps you focus when you write?

No focus we die like ADHDers

If I could consistently focus I would have, like, ten fics finished by now

One thing that's been useful for me, whenever I remember to use it, is a desktop-based program called 4thewords

It gamifies the writing process, incentivizing you to write both quickly and consistently, with a series of "monsters" to beat with time limits that range to something like, say, 99 words in 10 minutes to 5000 words over the course of 6-7 hours. There are a number of mini quests, where you can get some sort of reward for defeating a set number of monsters or gaining a certain amount of resources, as well as an overarching main quest which I also consistently forget about.

There is a subscription fee after a one month trial period ($4 a month), but, honestly...for ME, it's worth it. Because just about all my output for the last year's been because I had 4thewords breathing down my neck.

You write in-browser, you can organize your work into individual projects or add tags to them (I only usually do it to indicate whether a fic's completed or not, tbh), and it keeps track of both the word count and how much time you've actually spent writing on a given fic. (As you can see...the most recent one-shot has been...murdering me.)

I still get distracted, since I often go in-between fics while I'm trying to burn through my daily wordcount (444 words is what I try to do, at a minimum, each day), but it's MUCH more manageable. When I'm really focused on it and I have a fic idea I'm really into, I can burn through 30k words in a few days.

Which means...yes....when I'm not playing my RPG....I'm...writing....with a RPG.

[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

I really, really wanted to have Chapter IV of When the Longing Returns finished and ready to post on Valentines Day but life intervened and gave me an increased workload, sapping my energy and sucking up my time.

But I would like to share a sneak preview of Ch. 4 for the occasion, which I hope you will all enjoy...

He lifted her hand, unable to resist feeling the smooth skin against his lips again, and kissed it with every intention of doing so only briefly and then leading her on down the passage; but as he breathed in, he stopped.

Honeysuckle.

He had hit upon the impalpable difference about her this evening. "This scent," he said softly, running his thumb over the back of her hand. "This is different...." He inhaled again, subtly.

Christine's face became hot and she was sure that she could not hide the blush even in the lantern light. She had been so preoccupied with the prospect of Raoul perceiving the difference (which was needless, it turned out--he hadn't commented on it once) she hadn't considered that the Phantom would take notice of it as well. Which was rather foolish, as she was quite certain that he noticed everything about her.

"Yes," she said feeling herself begin to sweat as she paused, unable to think of how to continue. The silence rang in her ears. She felt almost as though she'd forgotten the lyrics in the middle of a performance. "I... it's my soap. I was using a lavender scent Raoul gave to me but, well I don't really like lavender so after... after yesterday... I decided to use my old soap instead..." she said at length, concluding rather lamely.

Now he understood. At the masquerade she had smelt of lavender, which he had noticed just at the same moment he'd seen that ridiculously vulgar ring hanging from her neck. In the cemetery the same scent had further provoked him to doubt her, but he'd forgotten about it when she'd pledged her faith to him.

Why, exactly, such a benign scent as lavender should have vexed him so he'd not been sure, but now, with this insight, it made sense. It was a change. A difference in her from when he'd last been close to her. One that didn't suit her. It was a common scent. Uninspired. Unartistic. Dull. Not at all appropriate for such a muse as she.

When she'd followed him to his home, this was the scent that had clung to her skin and hair. Fresh, clean, simple honeysuckle. It was so natural to her.

But of course Christine, always so eager to please, had used a scent she disliked for months simply to oblige her fiance. And of course the ignorant whelp wouldn't have noticed that it didn't please her. Oh, how he loathed that dunce; he could at least have made an effort to be a worthy rival for Christine's affectations.

He swallowed back the bitter flavor which the Vicomte's inattentiveness to Christine's tastes left in his mouth, and instead focused on how sweetly she was blushing. "I'm glad," he smiled--almost smirked. "I don't think lavender suited you. This..." he inhaled another pull of the sweet fragrance, "...this is much more fitting."

And for a moment, he wondered if she would allow him to kiss the inside of her wrist...

(I'd like to sincerely apologize to anyone who really likes lavender, because I know some of you do. Erik is always going to be a harsher critic, especially to anything associated with Raoul, so since the lavender is locked in this was kind of inevitable. If Christine liked it I bet he would sing it's praises lol)

[tallmantall]

James Donaldson on Mental Health - Take Time to Learn About Rural Mental Health and Suicide Prevention

James Donaldson on Mental Health - Take Time to Learn About Rural Mental Health and Suicide Prevention By  Russ Quinn , DTN Staff Reporter Changes in a person's behavior such as increased use of alcohol or drugs, a lack of sleep and taking less pride in personal appearance or even upkeep of the farm may be warning signs the person is facing a mental health challenge. As an agricultural journalist for over 25 years, I have written on many different ag topics during my career -- crops, livestock, machinery, markets. You name it and I have probably covered it. One topic I have always felt I needed to write about was rural mental health. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was because I was a kid growing up in the Midwest during the 1980s farm crisis and remember a couple of farmers in our community dying from suicide and leaving behind loved ones to grieve. Or maybe it was because I was raised in a farm family and mental health was a topic that wasn't discussed. Recently, I wrote about a free online course titled "Mental Health and Suicide Prevention in Rural America." You can read it that article here: https://www.dtnpf.com/…. It is being offered by Cornell University in partnership with NY FarmNet and Rural Minds, which is a nonprofit organization that promotes mental health in rural America. The founder and chairman of Rural Minds is Jeff Winton, who is a New York dairy farmer who started the organization after his nephew died from suicide in their rural community. There is a video profile of him explaining why he started the organization on the group's website. You can view it here: https://www.ruralminds.org/…. Normally, I write articles and then move on to the next subject on my list to cover. This time, however, I decided I needed to take the course. The online course is free and probably about an hour in length. It took me longer, as I took notes along the way. #James Donaldson notes:Welcome to the “next chapter” of my life… being a voice and an advocate for #mentalhealthawarenessandsuicideprevention, especially pertaining to our younger generation of students and student-athletes.Getting men to speak up and reach out for help and assistance is one of my passions. Us men need to not suffer in silence or drown our sorrows in alcohol, hang out at bars and strip joints, or get involved with drug use.Having gone through a recent bout of #depression and #suicidalthoughts myself, I realize now, that I can make a huge difference in the lives of so many by sharing my story, and by sharing various resources I come across as I work in this space.  #http://bit.ly/JamesMentalHealthArticleFind out more about the work I do on my 501c3 non-profit foundationwebsite www.yourgiftoflife.org Order your copy of James Donaldson's latest book,#CelebratingYourGiftofLife: From The Verge of Suicide to a Life of Purpose and Joy www.celebratingyourgiftoflife.com Link for 40 Habits Signupbit.ly/40HabitsofMentalHealth If you'd like to follow and receive my daily blog in to your inbox, just click on it with Follow It. Here's the link https://follow.it/james-donaldson-s-standing-above-the-crowd-s-blog-a-view-from-above-on-things-that-make-the-world-go-round?action=followPub According to the course, farmers face a higher rate of suicide than people in other careers. Some of the reasons for this are the nature of farm work, the deep intertwining of farmers' work and their personal identity, significant obstacles to obtaining healthcare, and financial volatility due to things like weather and commodity markets. Perhaps the most important part of the entire course was learning the warning signs that someone may be facing a mental health challenge. The course teaches to watch for changes in a person's talk, behavior and mood. Examples of changes in people's talk could be negative talk such as they feel like they are a burden to others or they are being trapped in a certain situation. Changes in behavior could be increased use of alcohol or drugs, a lack of sleep and taking less pride in personal appearance or even upkeep of the farm. Changes in mood could include sadness, anger or even sudden happiness again as a person considers suicide. The training said it is important to talk to the person about these changes you noticed. You don't need to be a trained expert -- just try and listen to the person. Talk to the person in private and share your general observations of these changes. Use a phrase such as "I have noticed" when you talk to the person. Be attentive to the person, and it is recommended you ask the person directly if they are considering suicide. Research shows that contrary to what some people might think, asking someone this question directly often helps the situation. How do you help someone who is thinking about suicide? You should believe the person and listen to the person and their concerns. Avoid talking down to him or her with your own advice. Stay with the person if it safe to do so. Know what resources are available. Call 911 if it is an emergency issue. If not an emergency, call or text 988 and utilize local mental health resources in your area. I urge anyone in a rural community, whether you are involved with agriculture or not, to take an hour and do the training. It is time well spent, and it could help you save a life someday. Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com Read the full article

[2plottwist]

Spin Off - Chapter 1

Pairing: Astarion x Female!OC (Kynna)

Characters: Kynna, Astarion, Gale, Karlach, Shadowheart

Warnings: none

Author: Kenna:)

Word Count: 1.5k

Series Masterlist

The rain patters against the window. The small droplets highlighted by the soft lamps and fairy lights illuminating the room. A candle wafts, the smell of bergamot and rosemary, through the dimly lit room. The brightest light in the room comes from the computer, way too overheated, due to the length I’ve been playing this game. 

The Baldur’s Gate 3 video game has been out for well over a year and I’ve never stopped playing. The amount of time I’ve played this game is concerning. The line of characters I’ve made goes out the door, each race and class mix matched among themselves. My favorite so far? Kynna, a wood elf ranger, completely in tune with the nature and animals around her.

On nights like these, where the rain and wind move past my window in bursts, the darkness of the house is finally silent. My stresses and worries of work and bills slowly disappear. The anxiety that creeps into my brain as I scroll through endless “for you” and discover pages of social media platforms dissipate into nothing. My world calms when I enter this adventure-filled, magical video game. It kind of sucks that it’s fake. 

Failing a critical role after using the rest of my inspiration to re-roll, I decide to call it a night. I have to be up early tomorrow and I could easily play this game until 3 am. I bring my party back to camp, making sure to check in with all the characters and have enough camp supplies to “sleep”. 

As I bring the game to its menu, a small purple spot appears on my screen. As it grows, the glowing light fills the room, exerting white sparks that prickle my skin. I jump at the contact, What the Fuck? My stomach drops and my heart races as I forcefully press the power button of my computer. I can’t ruin another fucking computer with this game.

Fear like I’ve never known envelops my entire body. My legs go numb and my eyes burn causing tears to drop to my cheeks. Shit, Shit, Shit! My incessant pounding of the power button does nothing to lessen the increasing light and heat coming from my computer. I yelp once burn marks appear on the tops of my thighs. 

I jump out of my bed and throw the laptop on the sheets. Cowering as far away as possible, I panic, dropping my head between my knees, and wait for this nightmare to be over. My cries are drowned out by the whirring and whooshing of light racing around my room. The last thing I sense is the pounding of bright purple light behind my eyelids, then silence. 

Crickets and a crackling fire replace the silence. Tears still soak my face when I look up. A night sky, stars shine when I finally open my eyes. Goosebumps rise on my skin as a light breeze moves past my body, bringing with it an absence of the candle I’ve been burning. 

Oh my god, my computer exploded. It blasted me outside.

My thoughts race, but my body stays as still as a statue. My muscles begin to scream with the amount of tension that coils through my arms and legs. I drag my eyes from the sky to take in the rest of my surroundings. 

Thinking I would see the tan sidings of my house, my eyes widen at the fact that I’m surrounded by large trees and grass as tall as my knees. The smell of dirt and pine move through my senses as a small butterfly quietly floats across my vision. Where on Earth am I?

My body gains the strength to stand. I look down and see that my pajamas were replaced by a worn leather top and green cotton fabric. My legs are covered in leather pants and boots that reach my knees. My stomach drops, fear continuing to rack my body. I wimp my head around, nearly throwing myself off balance to see familiar tents and bed rolls circling a burning fire. 

My entire body goes numb, “Oh. My. God,” I grab my face and shake my head, “No,” I whisper. 

My fight or flight kicks in causing my feet to move without intuition, I run the opposite way of the camp. Before I can make one step, my face slams into a wall, bringing my feet out from under me and my back to the dirt. My head spins with the impact, my vision blurring but catching a glimpse of bright purple reminding me of the glowing light that I saw just moments ago. 

“Kynna?” a low voice breaks my blurring vision. The name of my character, my nickname, hits my ears and brings my body back to the present. 

I open my eyes again to see Gale? “What the fuck,” I whisper, narrowing my eyes, trying to get a better look at the figure towering in front of me. 

The figure rolls his eyes, “Language,” he sighs, extending a hand towards me. 

I flinch at the action and dig my heels into the soil, confusion racing through my head and fear still willing my legs to run in the opposite direction. 

“Kynna? Are you okay?” Gale asks, tilting his head in confusion. 

I shake my head. This isn’t real. This is a dream. 

My hand moves to my neck and I pinch, hard. Pain pricks my senses leaving me with the horrid thought that I’m not on Earth anymore. Taking in a deep breath, I rest my hand on my throat, feeling divots in the skin there. 

My eyes widen again as my fingers quickly run over the two holes gracing the skin, “No way,” I whisper as I dig my fingernails into the small scars. 

“Don’t act surprised,” Gale huffs, finally grabbing my arm and pulling my body upright, “He has you wrapped around his cold, half-dead finger,” 

My eyes are dry with the length of time they have been bulging. “W-what?” I whisper.

“Astarion,” he says quickly, “Don’t act dumb, we all know.” 

“Did I hear my name?” a sultry voice sweeps across the air. Silver hair peeks out of a red tent across the clearing. A bright smile and red eyes breaks through the darkness of the night, fangs protruding from his lips. 

Astarion. My breath hitches in my throat, and I step back, quickly tripping over a bedroll conveniently placed on the ground. My back meets the soil again, “Gods,” Gale snaps. 

“What in the hells is going on over there?” a booming voice radiates from the woods behind us. Bright red skin moves through the leaves soon bringing Karlach into focus. 

“Oh God,” I whisper rolling over on my stomach to see the large tiefling. 

“Kynna, come on,” Gale huffs again, grabbing the back of my arms. 

Fire erupts from his touch. Fear finally reaches every inch of my body bringing violent shivers and bile rising in my throat. “Don’t touch me,” I snap, pushing myself off the ground. 

Finally finding my strength, I quickly step away from the light of the fire and into the dark brush surrounding the clearing. 

“I can’t do this,” I whisper, moving vines and branches out of my way, “There’s no fucking way this is real.” 

I stop once I feel like I’ve made a safe distance between myself and the fake video game characters. I drop my hands to my knees, focusing on bringing my breathing back to normal. My head spins, thinking of the sequence of events over the past few minutes. 

Game. Spot. Purple. Heat. Gale. Astarion. Karlach. What the fuck?

Bile finally reaches my mouth and I empty the contents of my stomach. Violent shaking and whimpers overtake my body. Tears spill over my face. I drop to my knees in front of my waste, hair falling in front of my eyes. 

I take in my appearance. My hair is long and wavy, small braids scattering through the locks. My hands are gloved, except for my fingers. The green shirt is folded to reveal my forearms. My ranger clothes. 

Kynna. I remember Gale calling me. My avatar in Baldur’s Gate.

My name is Kynna. I’m a wood elf ranger from the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate. I’m in the forests of Faerun. My companions are camped out for the night after a day of adventure. I have a mind flayer parasite crawling around in my head. 

My eyes move back and forth through the dirt, trying to sort through my racing thoughts. I could feel the leech moving behind my eye. Another wave of nausea rounds my body and I heave more of my insides to the ground. 

Lifting my head and wiping my mouth, I lean my back against a tree, chest still quickly moving with each breath. What am I going to do? How did I get here?

No matter how many times I ask myself that, the answer won’t fall out of the sky. I decide there’s only one thing left to do, the one thing I know I’m the best at. Play the game until I wake up.

[sukirichi]

jujutsu kaisen characters as students in high school: (non-canon AU)

featuring: itadori yuuji, fushiguro megumi, gojo satoru, getou suguru, & ryoumen sukuna notes: some parts include you as their friend, or even their high school love! (this is unedited/ not proofread)

masterlist ! requests are open 

𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈

he’s not the brightest bulb, but he makes up for it through hardwork and enthusiasm

yuuji is literally that classmate everyone is just friends with

the type who waves with a smile, saying “good morning!” the moment he walks through that door

with that being said, since he’s everyone’s friend, i headcannon that yuuji doesn’t really have a best friend because he’s so open and available to everyone it’s hard to have just a one on one conversation with him

not to say he’s always surrounded by a crowd that you can’t get near him, but everyone likes talking to yuuji

he just fits in so well and understands people 

kind of like how he easily clicked with junpei (please, i miss him, i still can’t believe that he’s...you know...)

whether it’s the guys raving to him about sports

or girls shyly talking about their crush on class or about that new shojo manga

yuuji is open to anything and everyone. this boy wears his heart on his sleeve and he’s honestly such a precious boy, please be kind to him <3

the type of student that gets called to answer in class but isn’t shy to admit he doesn’t know the answer while rubbing the back of his neck

he does pay attention tho

i think it’s canon that yuuji is a dedicated man, like from that time he just watched movies straight and kept his cursed energy controlled so the cursed corpse would stop hitting him

overall, yuuji is a very hard working student! 

he wouldn’t get over the top grades, but he’s really proud of himself (and he should be!)

also that one kid in class that is surprisingly good in sports despite his lanky figure and laid back persona, because all the other sports-craved people are always flexing or challenging other captains 

but plot twist, this boy is ripped and very, beautifully kept in trim

yeah he’s not really into club activities that much

not because he hates them, but he’s just not that into it. he’s more than glad to join in whatever activities though and enjoys them, but if asked what he’d like to do, it wouldn’t be that first thing that came to mind

in conclusion: itadori yuuji is the class sunflower that lights up everyone’s day  🌻

yuuji’s role: the hard worker! 

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈

hands down, megumi is THAT student

if you’re volunteering in the library, you can sure as hell guarantee you’ll see megumi there

he doesn’t like studying in class because it’s too noisy, so if he’s in school, you’ll always see his name in the library logs

he’s that kid that aces all exams

the type to scowl when he sees a 96% mark because he’s expecting a perfect mark

okay before you come at me, i’m not saying megumi is that annoying smart kid in class that goes, “Oh, I’m so dumb, just a 96?”

no he’s more frustrated at himself because he knows he studied hard and lost sleep over it. he’s just wondering where he went wrong. he has literal note cards and customize flash cards on an app on his phone, waking up every four am and probably taking supplement classes after regular school hours

i headcannon that megumi is someone who always wants to do his best and actually goes through lengths to prove his worth

maybe it stems from having the need to show who he really is and what he’s capable of

but yeah i can totally see him doing that

also that cute student that keeps visiting the cafe every saturday morning, wearing a black hoodie and headphones tucked in, his pretty hands nestling over a book

he looks like a gamer but honestly i don’t think he’s got time for that lmao

would also be that guy people find hard to approach because of his quiet and reserved self

he’s pretty intimidating too

definitely sits beside the window at the back of the class. you can’t fight me on that

just because he’s smart and loves studying, it doesn’t mean he’ll sit on the front row and raise his hand every damn second

the teachers will encourage him to participate in class a little bit more, especially after seeing he’s awkward during group activities, but megumi just really prefers to do things by himself

i also headcannon him eating in the cafeteria like everyone else instead of having his alone time during a rooftop? like idk i can’t picture megumi completely isolating himself like that

he blends in well in a way that you know he’s just like everyone else; a human

but he also stands out in the manner that he’s a lot more introverted and reserved compared to everyone else

surprisingly good during sports and relay games

100% reliable

the type to stay up at midnight to finish a group project, sighing because his groupmates doesn’t care as much as he does, but turns it in anyway the next day

he’d be annoyed at them, but he doesn’t really like confrontation so he doesn’t out them to the teacher like that

but he’s also not someone who lets people walk over him, so he’ll simply say something about his groupmates becoming more responsible and to be serious for once as a “warning”

and yeah, he may be closed off, but once you get really close with him (even better if you have similar interests) you’ll find there’s a lot more to him than what you’ve originally seen and he’s actually a pretty great friend and supportive classmate

would teach you instead of just letting you copy his work or snap pictures of his notes

ugh he’s so responsible and morally right and that’s so attractive help

in conclusion: fushiguro megumi is the hidden gem  💎

megumi’s role: the intellectual outsider!

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

man...i don’t know how to start this

i’ve said this about megumi, but gojo is also that student

no, in fact, he’s THE student

everyone loves him. literally everyone

the teachers? smitten

his classmates? in love

the school guard? calls him by his first name

the cleaning lady? turns into a star with the way she lightens up when he’s there

the cafeteria staff? yeah free food because he’s gojo satoru

gojo is what i like to call the “one who has it all” because....well, he kind of does

he’s really smart and talented, which comes as a surprise to everyone in the first day of school when he nearly gets kicked out for falling asleep in class

only for everyone to be shocked that he knows the answer already and the teacher is only discussing chapter 1 lmao

yeah he’d be that kid who always sleeps in class

or is playing games on his phone behind an open textbook

he literally doesn’t listen to what the teacher is saying at all - or at least that’s what he wants you to think

man is a god at multitasking and his seatmate would snicker because he’s crushing his enemies at a phone game, but then gojo coolly corrects the teacher about history or something

he’s pretty laid back tbh

but when he’s got everyone’s attention on him? ofc he’d show off

basketball meats are wild. even students from neighbouring schools would visit just to see gojo play - and he’s not even an official member! the coach just asked him to replace a sick player but boy won that champion shot

omg BASKETBALL PLAYER GOJO I CAN’T

but he pretty much excels at everything

except cooking class, gosh, don’t ever bring this man anywhere near a fire. that’s probably the only thing that really got him to detention this time because he always somehow talks himself out of getting that red card with his words and charm

also that kid that would receive lots of confession letters, chocolates, and random gifts in his shoe lockers

he knows he’s handsome and he’s not shy about it. in fact, he’s shameless when it comes to his allure on people

but he also doesn’t really date anyone (it’s canon this man won’t stay loyal to a single woman lmao)

if he and megumi were classmates, they’d be sort of rivals

megumi would always come on top of class, but gojo is just a breath away from the former’s perfect marks. if it only weren’t for megumi’s squeaky clean record and reputation - whereas satoru’s is TAINTED as heck - and the fact that gojo doesn’t really study as much as gumi, then yeah he’d also be top of the class if he wanted to

on a much more serious note,,,gojo acts like nothing really bothers him and he’s simply that effortless

but i feel like he grew up with tutors from a very young age and that’s how his natural intelligence was just further improved and increased with that type of environment in his childhood

and unlike megumi, i don’t think gojo would really have a set goal in mind on who he wants to be or what he wants to do in the future

he’d just be enjoying the moment <3

in conclusion: gojo satoru is the effortless god!

satoru’s role: the lazy king everyone is envious of 

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

the playboy

you can’t argue with me on this one

he just is, i feel it deep in my SOUL he just is

moment he walks in, all classy and suave aura and all, you can honestly smell and taste the amount of confidence that drips from him

probably came from a well-off family

probably the mayor’s kid lmao and he’s been used to the attention ever since he was young

much like megumi, he’s not really the type to show off his intelligence

and similar to gojo, people are surprised he’s actually got them brain cells just because everyone is more focused on his appearance first

like who would expect this tall hunk beautiful beast of a man with long hair and piercings actually liked classic novels and could effortlessly recite sonatas and poems in different languages

yeah i headcannon that getou is an intellectual, cultured man

ofc having long hair and piercings isn’t allowed in his school, but because he’s geto and the school knows about his family’s influence, they just let it slide

probably comes late to school too

he eats in the cafeteria, but you don’t really see him indulge much. some days, he’ll have his own fancy bento box prepared by a family chef, but geto is actually pretty simple and humble that he also buys packed bread or canned coffee 

takes the library volunteer by surprise when he drops by one friday after class to borrow an old classic novel that even your professors had a hard time analysing

but geto’s like, “oh this? yeah i last read it when i was thirteen, thought i’d read it again”

IDK WHY but I can see him as sort of breaking the rules when it comes to the school uniform

top three buttons of his shirt open when he’s feeling hot or something

doesn’t really keep his tie that tight too

but overall, geto is a composed and well-put together guy

i just can’t picture him slacking when it comes to his appearance, he’s too fancy and pretty for that

he’s also similar to megumi in a way people find it hard to approach them, but most definitely, geto also receives confessions often 

i can see him dating someone after being interested in someone in school and actually being serious with them unlike gojo

then they would be “that” couple that’re just so couple goals

not the type that goes overboard with pda and pulls off the angry face emoji when they hear someone talking about them and they’re like, “NO HE’S MINE”

okay that’s cringe but i legit witnessed that way too many times in high school yall cant blame me lmao

but they’d be more like the chill laid back couple that supports each other in everything and you can just tell they have a happy, healthy relationship

(oh to be getou’s girlfriend in high school and his first love and all his firsts)

in conclusion: getou suguru is the unpredictable!

getou’s role is: that one classmate you really admire but he’s so far out your league but he’s genuinely a good guy anyway so you’re happy for him no matter what <3

𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

okay okay hear me out but...the stoner

i really can’t see him any other way guyssss

and if you’re his classmate, you most likely wouldn’t see him that much either

dude is like 2-3 years older than everyone in class and he doesn’t give a shit about it

he’ll come like...once a week, if he’s in the mood enough

teachers don’t even bother scolding him for his tattoos anymore because there’s rumours going around he’s the son of a yakuza leader or that he’s a gangster who sells organs or some creepy dark stuff

ofc he doesn’t do that

he just does drugs and gets drunk at most

sukuna doesn’t really have that much friends either. yeah he parties with people and often gets high with some older kids, but he doesn’t genuinely enjoy their companies either

would totally come to school with his uniform unironed

red-eyed from his high and naps at the back of the class, making the teacher soften their voice in fear of waking him up

also doesn’t have a pen or paper

i mean...he doesn’t even bring a bag

fails the exams all the time, making him repeat year by year, and he’s even known for beating his senpai up for something stupid and sending the guy to a hospital where he stays for two weeks

but on the other hand

he’s also freakishly attractive and surprisingly easy to talk to

you probably bumped into him one time and you profusely apologize, but then he notices something about, something odd like, “did you just cut your hair?”

“uhm yes...you noticed?”

sukuna shrugs lazily, “noticed something was different, but whatever. it looks good on you though.”

he’s just soooo nonchalant most of the time, it’s hard to believe he’s actually pretty violent

but yeah this man has anger issues i’m sorry

but with that speaking, i actually don’t see sukuna as a bully with like a gang of his “followers” or that type of jazz

he’s more like the kid that hides under the bleachers or gets high in a storage room while everyone else is occupied with school festivals

it’s a shock he even came, but sukuna just says “free food is always a gift” but ofc it’s not free food...he just steals from the stalls

now here comes the fun part

so now that we know sukuna pretty much is a hopeless case...suddenly, he isn’t? maybe he meets you, the class volunteer who goes out of their way to visit his shabby apartment just to hand him his class work that he’s missed out on

he obviously disses you at first and ignores you, telling you to get lost

but somehow your kindness and persistence has him breaking

now he starts coming to school often, carrying a pack of gum or mint pops because he smells like weed and he’s slightly conscious of himself

this is supposed to be just them being students in high school, but i could honestly sukuna changing colors once he just gets a better grasp of what would be good for him

or maybe something finally interests him and gives answers to his silent questions

i feel like he’s such a troubled kid and just lacks proper care and attention, but once you become his friend and show him you don’t have bad intentions, he’s actually a loyal and decent guy

and when you two finally get close, you eventually gain enough courage to tutor him. sukuna is actually pretty smart too, he just doesn’t like studying, but when you compliment him, oh man, he melts

“yeah, you actually got that right! i told you you could do this!”

tsk,” he scoffs, “that’s all kindergarten shit.”

“if it is, then why haven’t you graduated?”

“shut the fuck up.”

although he sneers, you and sukuna have gotten close enough that you know both of you don’t mean anything bad behind those words and it’s all light hearted teasing

oh and when you ask him to take a picture with you for “high school memories?”

sukuna is disgusted

“get that thing away from my face - did you just take my photo?”

“yeah, you look pretty cute here! i’m so printing this and putting this in my album.”

sukuna is about to scold you even more, but the thought of you putting your photo together - even when he’s frowning in the picture - in something as sentimental as a photo book really has him softening up

would even try - keyword is try - to study more just so you’d stop frowning when you see his paper covered in red marks all over again

and he’d even try cutting down on his weed for the sake of his “health”

ofc he won’t suddenly - or ever, even - become the amazing student megumi is

he’ll still get into trouble because he’s impulsive and has poor coping skills, also he’s not good with words or dealing with his emotions

but on his good days, he’s a pretty funny guy

it just takes a lot to see that side of him, but it’s worth the time and patience

also i was expecting to write funny scenarios or imagines of stoner! sukuna because he’s too high to even hold a proper conversation sometimes but all i got is him saying weird words like “snail trap” or something when you ask him how his day is

would also have that garbled little laugh when he’s so out of it

sukuna will try to be better though, you just need to be patient him

but my GOSH when he finally graduates

he’s going to hide that little smile because deep down, he’s also pretty proud of himself and how far he’s come <3

lol now this makes me want to writer a high school au lololol

in conclusion: yeah he’s the stoner with a good heart 

which is so not canon...this shouldn’t even be a headcanon we know ryoumen sukuna is PURE EVIL but oh well maybe when I’m down from my sukuna high I’ll write him a lot more canonically