hello hello everyone! it's been *checks watch* uh oh. about 19 months since i last posted here, which is a little embarrassing given that fairly recently before that i'd announced a return from a hiatus
i guess i just lost interest in writing romance? it was probably already obvious - but i think i'll have to declare this blog dead. i'll still be leaving it up, so you'll still be able to read everything i wrote before, but there won't be any new content. probably.
by which i mean i do still have a lot of old drafts, which i might - and this is a BIG might - go back to finish one day. and, who knows, maybe one day inspiration'll strike and i'll want to start writing things in this category again - but i can't make any guarantees on that front
i'm still making obey me stuff, just mostly for my fic (and here comes the shameless plug) - that found family one, journey to the attic! it's come a long way since i first announced it on this blog, and i can honestly say i'm super proud of it (it's managed to incentivise me to get better at art) - so, if you'd like to pay your respects, do check it out here!
that's all! sorry that i couldn't reappear with better news, but i figured this blog deserved closure. you can still find me at @journey-to-the-attic if you want to chat!
grooming lucifer's wings (a piece that contains remarkably little actual wing-grooming)
note from kin: inspired by an ask someone sent me AGES ago that i canât find because tumblrâs search feature is not good at all might do more of the boys in future, this was pretty fun to write⌠anyway, everyone come get your dose of soft lucifer here!
i keep trying to make the reader character more âblankâ so that yâall can properly project yourselves onto them, but it never works⌠so in this one youâre a silly goofball who is so very full of bad jokes and and also full of love for your demon bf
fandom: obey me!
character(s): gn!reader, lucifer
pairing(s): lucifer/reader
warning(s): nope!! though my interpretation of lucifer will probably seem ooc to some of you
genre: fluff
you know how most types of bird will have a moulting season, where their feathers all fall out and then regrow?? yeah lucifer gets that with his demon-form wings
it happens roughly every decade or so, give or take a few years
and lucifer HATES it
for one thing, because his flight feathers are either gone or still new and too small, he canât fly in demon form like usual
itâs not like he flies that often anyway, but it just feels bad to know that he doesnât have that option
and the pin feathers are also indescribably annoying - his wings are constantly prickling and itching, and they keep stinging if they brush up against something too hard
itâs not like being in regular form helps - he feels the prickling/pain under his skin instead, which is even more agonising than just feeling it in his wings
basically when luciferâs wings are moulting he just wants to lock himself in his room and just lie there in demon form until itâs over
but since the entire moult lasts for roughly three weeks, he canât do that if he wants to keep on top of his work
everyone else can generally tell when itâs moulting season because lucifer gets about 10000000x more irritable
you donât realise though because heâs been avoiding you like the plague :((
but it turns out it was just because he doesnât want to be mean to you! :D
it literally feels feels like someoneâs constantly stabbing drawing pins into his back, so itâs hard NOT to get bitchy during moulting season - which is why heâs choosing to avoid you rather than accidentally hurt your feelings
except avoiding you also hurts your feelings, which he forgot to account for when he made that decision (lucifer you absolute goddamn buffoon)
in the end, the other brothers stage an intervention for their eldest brother, during which satan nearly hits him with a shoe and belphie calls him an idiot at least twenty times
luciferâs inclined to punish them all for the impertinence, but he also realises that they kinda have a point
(and also itâs touching to him that his little brothers care about you so much, to the point where theyâll ALL actively start telling him off for hurting your feelings)
anyway, his moult is already coming to an end around this time! most of the pin feathers are gone, and the new feathers are still a little tender, but at least the constantly-being-stabbed feeling is mostly gone
so, he thinks to himself, heâll make sure he gets a good nightâs sleep and arrange a nice date to make everything up to you tomorrow
except itâs that very evening that you decide to burst into his room and start pummelling the stuffing out of his arm
he figures out by piecing together your broken speech that youâve been given the low-down on the whole situation by his brothers, and that youâre REALLY mad at him for not just telling you that he wasnât feeling well
and youâre ESPECIALLY mad that he instead chose to silently stew in his own misery like a frog in a boiling pot, because doesnât he KNOW that youâd rather DIE than let him just be in pain indefinitely like this
the dramatics are unnecessary but lucifer literally loves it so much because it reminds him how much you love him and it makes his ego swell like 10000x, because to him there is no greater honour in the world than your love
anyway, once youâve calmed down, your attitude does a complete 360
you hop onto his bed, give your lap a crisp slap, and order him to lie down in it immediately
you are very lucky that he loves you so much, because if anyone else tried this theyâd be ground to dust in seconds
as it stands, all lucifer does is put up an extremely weak little fight (i.e. scoffs and gives that trademark âseriously?â look) before immediately doing as you say
literally three-quarters of the tension leaves his body as soon as he does and oh wow why didnât he do this sooner
heâs in such a state of relief that he doesnât even think twice about complying when you tell him to switch to demon form for you
and, after all the tension of moulting season, loosening up and going demon form for a bit sounds like a really good idea actually
so he does!
heâs just starting to wonder exactly why you wanted him in demon form when he feels you start running your fingers gently through his feathers
you know that noise that cartoon characters make when they get blown/yanked up into the air really quick?? thatâs the sound that plays in luciferâs mind
no WONDER practically every animal with fur or feathers likes being pet in one way or another. it feels so good
youâre working your way through the rows and rows of somewhat crooked new feathers, veeery gently teasing them into neat lines, and then smoothing them over with your palm
itâs slow and methodical, like youâre working to some sort of beat, and
like at one point you make some stupid joke along the lines of âguess those pin feathers were really NEEDLING you hahaâ
honestly lucifer wants to be mad, but he canât bring himself to be
tbh he can never get mad at any of your bad jokes, because they were part of the reason he ended up falling for you in the first place
this was basically how it went back before in the earlier days of you two knowing each other:
you: âhey lucifer, do your socks have holes in them?â
luciferâs brain: okay look, we know that the human has a VERY nice face, but we have standards, and our standards are high, ESPECIALLY for personality, so do NOT fuck this up and do NOT start falling in love with the human
lucifer, out loud: âno they do not, why wouldââ
you: âthen howâd you get your feet in them?! hahahahahahahahahaââ
luciferâs brain: shit. theyâre meeting all our standards. i think weâre in love with the human now.
based on the impression he gives most people, one would think that lucifer thinks youâre an idiot and doesnât like you
but not so! what lucifer actually thinks is âmy partner is an idiot and i like them SO MUCHâ
basically your laugh makes his heart do somersaults, and whenever you lose it at one of your own jokes it makes him want to smile so wide his face starts aching
anyway back to the wing-grooming!
grjklhrjkhrlKJHKJSHFK DO YOU HAVE MAGIC IN YOUR HANDS???
AND YOUR VOICE APPARENTLY because lucifer can hear you cooing âooooo what pretty wingsâ under your breath, and itâs making his own breathing do funny things
you call him a gorgeous boy multiple times and he doesnât even feel talked-down to, like heâd have assumed he would if ever addressed like that - he just basks in the compliment like âđĽ°đĽ°đĽ°đĽ°đĽ°đĽ°đĽ°đĽ°đĽ°đĽ°đĽ° youâre a gorgeous human toooooâ
obviously he doesnât say that, nor does he really let it show on his face, but deep down in his soul heâs practically yelling it
you should really cherish this moment, because even if luciferâs softer than pure cotton for you, itâs rare for him to be practically snuggling into your lap like this
thereâs a combination of factors here:
1. he hasnât had much contact with you since moulting season began, so heâs making up for lost time
2. doing all that work while simultaneously being in constant pain is EXHAUSTING and this is a great chance to wind down
and 3. man do your hands feel good
he straight up just falls asleep there in your lap after a while
some time later, he wakes up at a tiny hour of the morning, with you having fallen asleep sitting up
his wings are positively sparkling, youâve done an absolutely fabulous job of neatening and smoothing out the new plumage
but now luci feels kind of bad because you look kind of exhausted
so he carefully eases himself out of your lap and climbs into bed properly, rearranging everything so that youâre nice and snug in his arms, with his wings wrapped around you like an extra protective layer of blankets
and now he kind of wants to cry because wow this cosiness just hits different. sleeping in your lap was great, but this is even GREATER. maybe he needs to sleep with you in demon form more often???
oh shit his horns make it pretty hard to put his head on the pillow comfortably, never mind
though, if you really like sleeping wrapped up in his wings like this, heâd be totally willing to put up with the pillow discomfort
itâs not awful, anyway - absolutely nothing compared to the everything about moulting season, actually
so lucifer drifts back off to sleep soon enough, fully aware of the fact that he doesnât have his alarm set and that heâll probably oversleep tomorrow, but also fully aware of the fact that he doesnât care
Heyoo! How have you been doing?? Just wanted to say that I finally read your work on AO3, 'Journey to the Attic' and omg it's one of the best written fanfiction I've read in quite sometime! I'm so glad that I was able to stumble through your works. It kept me entertained for hours upon hours! Love how you portrayed the characters and the world building is just đŻđŻ. Can't wait to see what you have in store next!
Stay safe and healthy~~
ahh thank you!! always glad to hear that people enjoy jtta ^^
(also, bit of self-promo here: if you're interested, you can take a look at @journey-to-the-attic 's blog!!)
note from kin: i know i said on the gorou piece that everything upcoming was fluff, but it turns out i was lying. anyway in this one childe falls in love with the spirit of a long dead wandering warrior - very loosely inspired by the presence of the iwakura guys and âmasanoriâ in inazuma
this oneâs kinda long, so strap in! it's also a bit of a fixer-upper in regards to plot tbh, but i like it even so
fandom: genshin impact
character(s): gn! reader, childe
pairing(s): childe/reader
warning(s): references to death, and also i still havenât read up on childeâs actual lore so this is not canon compliant at all
genre: uh oh! angst time (not the devastating kind, more the ~yearning~ kind. man i really do love writing this sort of thing for tartaggle huh)
You first appear to him in the distant peaks of one of Snezhnayaâs coldest mountain ranges.
Childe is here on a self-imposed test of courage, one hand clutching the hilt of his sheathed blade, and the other trying to keep his hat from being blown clean off his head. The snowstorm has died down, but the wind continues to roar past his ears in great, howling gusts - it knows that heâs an intruder on this mountain, and itâs determined to blow him away.
If he hadnât been looking in the right place at the right time, he probably wouldâve missed you - but the sun is still high enough in the sky for him to spot your figure, standing there amid the stark white snow. At first he contemplates ignoring you, assuming you to just be another odd Snezhnayan about on their own business - but then he looks a little closer, and realises that youâre translucent.
Now thatâs unusual...
âWho goes there?!â You bark as soon as he approaches, yanking his hat off his head and stowing it in his bag to leave both hands free. âI hear your footsteps!â
âWhoa there!â He raises his left hand as you abruptly turn to face him, and he sees the telltale glint of a notched arrow aimed his way. âCalm down, weâre all friends here.â
You narrow your eyes at him, fingers still poised at the bowstring. âYou have a weapon.â
âSo do you,â He points out in reply, though he does take his other hand off the hilt of his blade, and lifts that as well. âSo, have you noticed that youâre see-through?â
âMy arrows are not,â You growl, and Childe notes with mild surprise that youâre right. The weapon in your hands seems perfectly solid compared to the rest of your body. âI aim to kill. What are you doing here?â
âItâs a free estate, isnât it?â He spreads his arms to gesture around himself. The wind immediately bites at his exposed torso; he quickly brings his arms closer to himself again. âNo one owns the mountains. Anyway - isnât killing a bit harsh? Why canât you aim to incapacitate instead?â
You regard him with mild disdain, then very slowly and deliberately move your arrow to point to his groin. At this, his eyes open wide with horror - only partly exaggerated. âOh, never mind, killingâs fine, killingâs fineâŚâ
For a moment you donât move, but then you sigh and lower your bow. â...I will not fire. I have limited arrows as it is.â
âWell, thatâs a relief.â Childe observes you for a moment, then continues, âCan we go back to the see-through thing, then?â
âWe cannot,â You dismiss almost grumpily, then look him up ad down. He wonders vaguely if youâre checking him out. â...are you an able fighter?â
At this, he practically inflates like a pufferfish with pride, your translucency forgotten in a heartbeat. âHa! Well, Iâd like to think so! Why - are you looking for a brawl?â
You cock a brow at him, drop the bow, then quite suddenly unsheathe a blade of your own - for a second he thinks itâs come out of nowhere, then realises that youâve deftly pulled it out from your left sleeve. He doesnât even know how you were hiding it in there without it being noticeable, but⌠well, all he can think for a few moments is whoa, thatâs hot.
âI have not had a good fight in a very long time,â You announce, pointing the sword at him. He notes its oddly thin blade - the style of blacksmithery doesnât seem local. âAmuse me.â
âHehâŚâ He pushes down on that familiar rush of adrenaline that always comes with a chance to draw his weapon. âWhatâs in it for me?â
âA satisfying battle is its own reward,â You reply, and thatâs enough to bring a grin to his face. It seems you have similar ideologies. âWe will fight to disarm. I doubt you will be able to strike me directly, anyway⌠if you manage to survive the first five seconds.â
He unsheathes his own blade. âWhat makes you thinkââ
Next thing he knows, heâs lying in the snow and staring up at a cloud so white that it makes his eyes hurt a little. Thereâs a dull aching sensation in the centre of his chest - after some extremely perplexed thought, he realises that youâd slammed the hilt of your sword into him.
âThe first moments of a fight are some of the most important.â You lean over him - against the sky, your face is barely visible. Youâre shimmering, like some sort of desert mirage. âYou can win in a flash if you simply make your move swiftly enough.â
âWhââ He sputters in outrage, sitting up quickly - you donât move back in time, and his head phases through your torso entirely. ââoh, thatâs not niceâŚâ
âI suppose not,â You observe as he hops to his feet, wearing a marginally disturbed expression. âYou were saying?â
âHuh...? Oh, right!â He points at you accusingly. âYou didnât tell me the fight had started yet!â
âWill your enemies do you the honour of warning you before they strike?â You ask in reply. Childe opens his mouth, then slowly shakes his head in defeat. â...this should be common knowledge to you. It is the first rule taught by any master worth their salt.â
Now that he thinks about it, he has heard something along those lines before. Itâs just that heâs usually the enemy striking without warning - not the one being struck. â...well, Iâll concede. I let my guard down. Will you let me fight you for real now?â
You respond with a deft jab of your sword. Had he not kept his grip on his own weapon even as he went down, heâd have been skewered in seconds - but, thankfully, he manages to deflect the blow. As you draw your blade back to your side, he takes several long steps back, cursing the snow obstructing his boots.
âGood reaction time,â You note, then suddenly aim a slash at him that he only just parries. âHmm. Your technique is sound.â
âYours isnât bad, either,â He replies, shifting his stance and tightening his grip around his blade hilt as he prepares for an attack of his own. âThisâll be fun.â
Itâd probably do him well to be less arrogant next time. He attacks with the same deftness of movement that has been more than enough to fell countless opponents before - each move calculated and swift, almost mechanical in their accuracy. But you counter each one by a hairâs breadth; it almost takes his breath away, the way you match his every blow.
Itâs as if the two of you are engaged in some kind of deadly dance, set to the tune of clashing steel. Your expression is muted and flat; the only hint that youâre engaged in the battle at all is the subtle spark in your eyes. Childe, meanwhile, feels his grin grow wider with each passing moment, heart thumping louder and louder each time your blades cross.
The thrill of an equal opponent is such that, when you finally knock the blade from his hands and send it spinning into a nearby snowdrift, Childe canât do much other than throw back his head and laugh. He laughs for a while - long enough that heâs sure youâll think heâs gone crazy when he finally stops. But he just canât help it! He feels too good!
â...you enjoyed the battle, I assume,â You say drily as his laughter finally dies down. âWas it worth it?â
âWorth it?â He brushes away a tear. âOh, it was worth it alright. Where did you learn to fight like that?â
âI learnt a little from every nation I visited,â You reply mysteriously, stowing your blade back in your sleeve. âFrom the masters I met, and from the many defeats I encountered along the way.â
âIâd expect no less,â He sighs with a smile, trudging over to retrieve his fallen blade. âSo whereâve you been âalong the wayâ?â
âAll over the world,â You say, sweeping your arm out theatrically. Then you pause, looking around at the snow, and frown. â...my journey was not supposed to end here.â
âNo?â Childe looks you up and down. Your clothes are hardly suitable for Snezhnayan weather. âWell, itâs true you donât look like youâre from around here...â
You follow his gaze, then scowl a little. âI assure you, this is not my usual attire. I was not wearing my armour when I passed.â
âOh. Oh.â He should probably be more surprised by that, âSo youâre a ghost, then?
âI prefer spirit,â You say grandly.
âSpirit, right. How did you die?â
â...straight to the point, I see.â You give him a look, folding your arms. â...a once-friend murdered me. I had assumed they were as honourable as they appeared⌠as you can tell, they were not.â
He raises an eyebrow at you, intrigued. â...care to elaborate?â
âI suppose.â You pause for a moment, then begin matter-of-factly, âThey had a little green stone that they used to aid them in battle. They used it to create a plant of poison, and used it alongside another herb to brew me a sedative tea. I lost consciousness within minutes and died in my sleep.â
Thatâs an⌠unorthodox way to use Dendro. Childe feels his own Hydro Vision burning a hole through the pouch hanging from his waist. â...how long ago was this?â
You ruminate on this for a long while. âIf I have observed the seasons correctly, then it should have been at least one hundred and fifty years by the next thaw.â
âOne hundred andââ He chokes on an inhale, and has to spend the next minute or so doubled over coughing. Meanwhile, you just stand there and watch him with a mildly concerned look on his face. â...why have you stuck around for so long?â
âYour guess is as good as mine,â You reply. Now that he thinks about it, the way you talk makes a lot more sense when he considers that youâre from more than a century ago. âI do not wish for vengeance. Even if I did, my once-friend will be long-dead by now.â
âProbably,â He agrees, then pauses. â...why did they poison you?â
âI won a precious artifact during my travels,â You say, a distant look passing over your face for a moment. âA beautiful goblet. I suppose they coveted it⌠or else I wouldnât have watched them steal it from the pack strapped to my cold corpseâs back.â
Childe winces a little. Heâs not afraid of death himself, but itâs odd to hear someone talk so casually of their own demise. Not least because youâre the first (and only) not-yet-departed soul heâs ever met.
â...well,â he starts, rubbing hesitantly at the back of his neck, âI hope I⌠made your afterlife a little more interesting.â
You quirk an eyebrow at him. A transient smile passes across your face. âYou did, indeed. You are the first person Iâve met since I passed.â
He feels an odd little throb in his chest. Sympathy, he supposes. âDoes it get lonely?â
âPerhaps. It has been too long for me to remember the difference between isolation and company.â You pause. â...but I would welcome another visit, if you ever have the time.â
He offers you a smile. âIâll keep that in mind.â
And so he does. At first, he only comes by sparingly - to have a word, and exchange a few blows. But then, more and more, he finds himself making the long trek, not just to fight you, but to see you again. He hadnât quite realised how easy you were on the eyes the first time he met you; he hadnât quite realised how soothing your voice was, either.
The cold stops biting as much soon enough, and the bracing exercise does wonders for his stamina. Which is a good thing, because the lengths of your fights are getting almost ridiculous⌠even though you always manage to best him in the end. Thatâs alright, though; it just means he can keep getting stronger. It helps that itâs really quite alluring when you smirk at him after yet another defeat, too.
He gets questions from the other Harbingers about his constant absences, most of them accompanied with ill-intentioned jabs questioning his loyalty. He ignores all of them - until heâs given a mission to complete, heâll spend his free time however he likes, and at the moment he really quite likes spending his free time with you.
The only problem would be that it reduces the time he gets to spend with his family, but thereâs a silver lining to that cloud, too. Soon enough into his series of visits, you begin to tell him stories - of the landscapes you have traversed, the battles you have both fought in and witnessed, and the endless amount of other lives that you passed through like a leaf on a stream. And those stories most certainly go down well with the kids back home.
Itâs clear that, even though it was cut short prematurely, you still lived an impressively full life; even after almost half a year has passed, you donât seem anywhere close to running out of experiences to recount. Childeâs grateful for that; his siblings have gotten so accustomed to having your thrilling tales relayed to them that, were he to go back to telling them his own poorly-improvised stories, theyâd be extremely disappointed.
Childe himself enjoys your stories greatly, too. In fact, heâs hiding something about that - there is one story that he never re-tells to his family, that he keeps close to his chest like a precious childhood toy. He canât quite put why he does it into words, but he keeps doing it, anyway.
And, out of the many you tell him, itâs only that story that he asks to hear again. It isnât one about conquest and conflict, as would be typical of him, but a fairly mundane one about your time in the nation of Liyue.
In it, you speak of a distant peak in Minlin - Mount Hulao, which towers over the Huaguang Stone Forest, and is hell to climb if you donât know where to put your feet. You describe the amber crystals - prisons of the purest colour, locking everything they incarcerate into an eternal stasis that lasts for as long as the stone remains unshattered.
Above all, though, you talk of the view - of cloud-shrouded peaks, distant blue waters, and rippling green grass. You talk of how the sunset would cloak the trees with the most vivid golden glow youâd ever seen, and of how the pale sunrise and chilled morning dew served as a far better wake-up call than the sound of an ambushing enemy. Rather unusually, your favourite time to go gazing on the mountain was deep in the night - at the right time, itâd seem like the moon and stars had cast a silvery shroud of gossamer over Liyue.
This, above all others, is Childeâs favourite story of yours.
Heâd be lying if he was saying he was still paying complete attention to the words, though; rather, he likes to watch you. Itâs when you describe that view that you look the closest to corporeal that youâve ever been, when a true smile comes closest to actually lingering on your face. The sparkle he sees in your eyes then is different to the one he spots in the midst of a fight, and though the latter was bolstering enough to warrant several returns, he thinks that itâs the former that keeps him coming back to you now, over and over again.
Is it possible to love someone across so many years? Heâs not sure - but heâs also not sure what other word he could apply to how it feels to be near you these days. And itâs not the sort of term that Childe throws around lightly, but somehow it feels right.
Heâd never say it, of course. 'I love youâ - he canât even touch you; he doubts that youâd believe him if he suddenly made that confession. But he thinks it to himself, practises whispering it into the night when heâs about to fall asleep, and shouts it silently - a thousand times for each smile that passes across your face.
Childe doesnât do things by halves. Like his thirst for battle, his feelings are all-consuming, and sometimes itâs all he can do to keep himself from screaming with the intensity of it all. Itâs such an odd thing, something straight out of a folk tale - to have fallen in love with a piece of the long-forgotten past. Those stories never end well, nothing that brings the living and the dead too close does⌠but Childe allows himself to dream.
In many of your stories about Liyue, you talk about a so-called adeptus who lives upon that Mount Hulao that you love so much - an adeptus named Mountain Shaper. Somehow you earned the honour of being able to call him your master for a short while, and it was he who gifted you the bow that you aimed at Childe when he first met you.
âIt was buried by its first master,â You tell him, holding it out for him to take a closer look. âMountain Shaper presented it to me just before I left Liyue, and I have wielded it since. It fires well, even if it is rusted. Perhaps you could learn to use it one day⌠after all, I have no use for it.â
âSounds fun,â He agrees, reaching out, then pausing when his fingers pass straight through the bowâs handle. â...thatâll be a bit of an obstacle, though⌠and I warn you, Iâm hopeless with anything long range at the moment.â
You donât seem fazed. âAh, the instrument is never as important as the one who wields it. As long as the bow you find is sturdy, it will serve well as a weapon - and, as long as you polish your craft, you will find your aim is true before long.â
He agrees with you then, but the topic never quite seems to crop up again after that day. The two of you fight with your respective blades, as always, and as always you send his flying away in the end. Somehow, though, the idea of finally being able to hold that bow of yours nestles at the back of his mind, and never quite leaves.
Maybe itâs because you donât seem to place much sentimental value in your blade - at least, not nearly as much as you do in your bow. Maybe itâs because of the link it shares with your story about Mount Hulao. Or maybe itâs just a matter of principle - if he were able to touch the bow, he might be able to touch you, too.
Childe has grown soft, it seems. Heâs let his guard down. He becomes too comfortable with you, too comfortable in your existence, too comfortable in this routine he has fallen into. He forgets himself and the position he has been given; a position that is flimsy as it is, recent as his appointment has been. He supposes that what follows is some kind divine retribution for forgetting his place.
Precisely two years to the day he met you, he finally bests you in battle. He doesnât register it at first, but then he catches it - the shine of your blade as itâs flung skywards. In the sudden burst of excitement that follows, he doesnât realise that your sword does not return to earth - it fades away in a cloud of mist and dust.
âI did it! I beat you!â He drops his own blade - it sinks into the snow with a muted thump - and pumps his fist in the air, suddenly feeling like a little boy again for the first time in years. âOh, wowâ I really have gotten stronger, huh?â
âYou have, indeed,â You agree, and he realises youâre smiling at him - properly, without it fading within seconds as it always does. âCongratulations, Ajax.â
He feels an odd little shiver shoot up his back. Itâs been a long time now since he told you his birth name, but he hadnât expected you to suddenly use it so bluntly. âWellâ itâs all down to you.â
âPerhaps.â Your smile is the brightest heâs ever seen it - but, for some odd reason, he feels his own falter. âAjax - take this for me, would you?â
Youâre holding out your bow. His smile truly drops at this; a cold sense of dread steals over him. â...what? You know I canât touch it.â
âI have reason to believe that that might have changed.â You push the bow forward, and he takes a step back, hands held stiff by his sides. â...whatâs wrong?â
Heâs silent for a long while, staring at both you and the bow warily. The realisation had hit him as soon as he saw your smile, he thinks. When he speaks again, his voice is small - almost child-like. â...youâre leaving.â
âI donât have much of a choice in the matter,â You chuckle, and he curses the fact that he canât appreciate the sound. âBesides - I left a hundred and fifty years ago. It isnât quite a recent development.â
âBut you didnât,â He says, and he hates how petulant he sounds. âYouâre still here. Youâre⌠youâre still with me.â
âI was never going to stay around forever, Ajax,â You say gently. âI died a long time ago.â
You reach forward again, with your hand instead of the bow, and this time he does not move away. When your hand meets his cheek, it doesnât pass through it - for the first time, Childe feels your touch.
âYou fight well,â You say gently. âAnd youâve grown stronger.â
âThereâs no point to it,â He mutters bitterly, fighting the urge to turn away. âI wouldnât have bothered if I knew this would happen.â
You give him a stern frownâThatâs a foolish thing to say and you know it.â
He looks at you. Everything rushes in on him so quickly that, for a fleeting moment, he feels as if he can't breathe. Something inside him aches, keens, whimpers - it wants to grasp your hand, hold on tight, and never let go. But... he canât move. He canât do anything but stare at you, drinking in your face greedily, as if heâll never see it again - because he wonât.
Slowly, you draw away from him. He follows your motion; in that split second before your hand leaves his cheek, he thinks a million words - but he canât find it in himself to say any of them aloud.
âIt isnât fair,â He murmurs finally, face crumpling. âWe didnât have enough time.â
âOf course we didnât. Itâs cruel - that I had to remain here for over a hundred years, and only spend two of them with you. But my time has always been stolen. You have to remember that.â
You hold your bow out to him again. This time, he doesnât reject it. He only looks at it, then back at you. â...so this is it, then?â
âThis is it,â You repeat back to him, and take a small step forward. âTake it. I know you will wield it well.â
He reaches forward, agonisingly slowly - hoping that, if he can drag this moment out for long enough, he can make it last an eternity. But time stops for no one; finally, his hand closes around its solid handle.
You smile at him, one last time. âThank you, Ajax.â
The bow weighs heavily in his hand. Childeâs breath catches. All he can do is stand and watch you disappear.
Everything after that feels like an echo. He takes the bow back home with him, trudging through the snow, feeling the bitter cold for the first time in a long while. In the months that come, his fellow Harbingers question his sudden obsession with the weapon heâs neglected ever since he joined their ranks, but he has no answers for them. He only practises harder -Â until the string of your bow is as familiar to him as his own palms.
He goes back to keenly awaiting the next outpost to take, if only to avoid the too-familiar Snezhnayan snow. Eventually, a mission comes up - and he receives several disparaging looks from his fellow Harbingers when he practically jumps at the opportunity, but he couldnât care less. Within a week, heâs on a boat bound for Liyue.
His first move upon arriving in the Harbour is not to scout around for info regarding Rex Lapis, as he was advised to do. Instead, he stops a passing local, and asks for directions to Mount Hulao.
The golden-eyed gentleman is detailed in his instruction, and kind in his warning about the adeptus who will surely strike this insolent human down for daring to enter his abode. Childe barely hears his talk of sigils and permissions; his mind is already set on one track, and by the time he sets off, the only thing he remembers is the route that has been dictated to him.
Funnily enough, he meets no obstruction on his way up the mountain. No crystal comes to swallow him up; no adeptus comes to smite him. Perhaps it is the presence of the bow that he has carried since the day he lost you, or perhaps it is something else entirely, but it seems Mountain Carver will allow him passage on the mountain for now.
Itâs dark by the time he reaches the peak. He barely feels the exhaustion weighing down his legs - only the relief as he finally sits down, and breathes in the cool night air.
He looks out across a sea of mountain peaks, the tips painted silver by the moonlight, and smiles. The view is every bit as beautiful as you said it was.
đđ truly, I have never cried so much from reading a fic but your Simeon losing his himbo bf fic made me bawl !!! Youâre amazing, you really are!
sorry it took a while to answer, but thank you!! always good to know i can indeed create Feelings through my writing ^^
waiting for the day i see someone saying something along the lines of 'ayato's footwork is so beautiful' so that i can go "y'all simping over his ayatoes now????"
note from kin: i woke up one day and went âi think mammon would love a partner who completely matches his energyâ, so this one is just you and mammon both being loud idiots who are so so dumb but also love each other so so much
this feels short but given my track record for putting Too Many Words (readers of jtta will understand this), maybe iâm being a bad judge of length???
fandom: obey me!
character(s): gn!reader, mammon, asmo, satan, various rad students
pairing(s): mammon/reader, + satan and asmo as your besties :D
warning(s): nope!
genre: fluff
âSoâŚâ
âSo,â You echo as Asmo sits down across from you, reaching across the table to tweak your nose in greeting.
âYouâre not eating with Mammon today,â He says, putting on a faux-sympathetic expression and tipping his head to the side. âDid you have a fight?â
âNo?â You take a large bite of your sandwich and chew on it for a moment as Asmo continues to scrutinise you as if he thinks youâre keeping a secret. âWe just hang out with different people sometimes.â
He looks across the cafeteria, over at where Mammonâs excitedly recounting something to a table of intrigued-looking buddies. â...well, he sure looks like heâs having a good time.â
âHeâs having a good time because heâs talking about [Name],â interjects Satan, coming up out of nowhere and joining you on your side of the table with his usual lunch-in-a-brown-paper-bag. âI overheard when I walked past. So you went to a museum last week?â
âUh huh.â His eyebrows lift at that, and you give him a slightly suspicious look. â...whatâs that look for?â
âNothing in particular,â He answers casually, looking away to focus on opening his lunch bag. âIâm just surprised you actually got him to pay attention. Howâd you manage to find an exhibit he was actually interested him?â
âI just knew which ones to show him,â You say nonchalantly. âLike the cool vase. It was so cool that this one guy just stood there staring at it from across the room the whole time.â
âRight.â Satan raises an eyebrow at you, smiling in mild amusement. âAre you sure that wasnât just a statue?â
â...it definitely wasnât,â You say after a moment, deciding that you donât want to contemplate the alternative. Thereâs no way you and Mammon are that stupid. âYouâd know it too if you saw the vase. It was a really cool one.â
âSo you keep saying,â He replies with a sigh, unwrapping a muffin and beginning to pick out the chocolate chips like a heathen, like he always does even though he knows you hate it. âBut, you know, it sounded to me like Mammon was paying more attention to you than the vase. Heâs talking a lot more about the look on your face than any of the exhibits.â
You nod seriously. âYeah, itâs a problem for both of us. The other day I was talking to Levi, see, and he wentââ - you put on a weird, Spongebob-y kind of voice - ââ âAre you actually gonna tell me about the cafe or are you just gonna keep talking about Mammon the whole time?â Like that.â
âA cafe?â asks Satan in clear anticipation, while Asmo pretends he didnât start recording you in the middle of your Levi impression. âWhat kind?â
âNot a cat one,â You say, and Satan immediately drops all pretence of interest in what youâre saying. âAnyway, we talked about it a bit, and we both figured that you guys can just suck it up and listen or turn off your ears, 'cause we like talking about each other, so weâre gonna keep doing it.â
âWell, good for you, hon,â Asmo smiles and gives you a little thumbs-up of approval. He pauses, then asks, this time wearing an oddly devious expression, âSoooo⌠how are things going with Mammon.â
You give him a vaguely confused look. â...good? Were you not listening to the⌠the everything that I just said?â
âNo, I mean, likeâŚâ He gives you a coy sort of look. â...are you two⌠serious yet?â
You consider for a moment, reaching for your juice box and beginning to chew absently on the end of your straw. Across the canteen, Mammon laughs so loudly at something that several demons around him shoot him disgruntled looks. âDunno. Whatâs your definition of serious?â
âWell, you know meâŚâ He does something funny with his hands. âHave you, like... sealed the deal? Made it official? Maybe even⌠got it on?â
âGot what on?â You ask cluelessly, still contemplating his original question. Satan, meanwhile, gives Asmo a mildly distasteful look. â...yâknow, I donât know if we ever did make it officialâŚâ
Before either Asmo or Satan have a chance to ask you what youâre planning, you stand up, cup your hands around your mouth, and yell across the canteen, âHEY, MAMMON!â
He snaps around to look at you so quickly that you have to wonder if he was waiting for you to call out to him. âYEAH?â
âARE WE OFFICIAL YET?â
âHUH?â
âAREâ WEâ OFFICIALâ YET?â
âWHYâRE YA ASKINâ ME THAT NOW?â
âJUST ANSWER THE QUESTION!â
âUHâ SURE, GO ON!â
âNICE!â
âLOVE YA!â
âLOVE YOU TOO!â You holler back, before finally sinking back down into your seat. Mammon, meanwhile, turns to carry on his conversation with his own lunch buddies, wearing a satisfied and slightly abashed smile.
âI cannot believe you,â Asmo sighs. âYou couldnât be more romantic about it?â
âRomantic isnât a word in my dichotomy,â You say breezily. âBut, I dunno, I reckon we can get pretty lovey-doveyâŚâ
âDictionary, not dichotomy, and that literally means the same thing,â Satan corrects - two in one go, like the smart-ass he is. He looks around the cafeteria, then grimaces. â...what was that for, anyway? Weâre getting stared at now.â
âIâm getting stared at, actually,â You say, pretending to wave like a celebrity at the several demons still sending you disdainful looks. âI love my fans.â
Satan follows your line of sight and aims a glare at one of the demons giving you a particularly mean-spirited look - at which point they quickly turn to face the other direction. Of course, he decides to follow that sweet little act of friendship with a very sarcastic, âYouâre going to make Asmo jealous.â
âOh, I donât think so,â Asmo shakes his head airily. âTwo hundred against fifty thousand, itâs hardly a fair competitionâŚâ
âThere arenât even thirty thousand students at the R.A.D!â You object. âYou liar!â
He gives you a slightly pitying look. âIâm talking about our Devilgram followers, hon.â
âOh⌠hey, thatâs not fair!â You point at him with theatrically narrowed eyes. âI post better stuff than you, anyway. Itâs not my fault demons donât appreciate good humourâŚâ
âTwenty puns about trees in a row is hardly good humour,â Satan deadpans, even though you both know he liked every single one of those damn tree puns. âIâm surprised you have any followers at all.â
Spoken like a true guy who is following you. You scowl at him - mostly playfully. âYouâre so mean to me.â
âAnd Mammon treats you like youâre the universeâs gift to demonkind,â He replies with a shrug. âIâd like to think Iâm balancing that out.â
You think about this for a while, then hum and lean forward on the table, lifting your left hand to block out your view of Satanâs face. â...I think I am the universeâs gift to demonkind, though.â
âOf course you are, hon,â agrees Asmo with an indulgent smile.
Satan, on the other hand, raises an eyebrow at you, then asks, âDid you come with a receipt if we want to return you?â
âSatan!â Asmo gives him a scandalised look, and you canât entirely tell if itâs serious or not. âDonât talk like that to the universeâs gift to us!â
âAsmo,â You say, eyes wide and voice wondering like a child in a cheesy Christmas movie, âI love you.â
He smiles at you brightly. âLove you too, hon, but donât let Mammon hear you saying that.â
âHe doesnât mind,â You dismiss. âI mean, he did before, but he doesnât anymore, cause we talked about it. I say the same words, but they mean a different thing when I say it to him, cause heâs my one and on-lyyyyyyâŚâ
âGreat speech, [Name],â sighs Satan. âIâll save it for your wedding.â
âOooo, a wedding,â You say, eyes round. âYou know, I always thought itâd be fun to get married in one of those blow-up dinosaur costumes. I bet Mammonâd do it if I asked him.â
âHeâd blow up the R.A.D. if you asked him, thatâs not a high bar to cross,â Satan replies, shaking his head, then pauses and looks you in the face properly. â...are you seriously considering marrying him?â
You grin and shrug. Asmo gasps loudly and drops his half-eaten apple. âNo, are you serious?! Wait, wait, thereâs no way youâre having a wedding in dinosaur costumesâ
âOh, yeah, totally. I could ask him now, actually, get that out the way so we can start planningâHEY, MAMMON!â You call again, before either of the others can stop you. He swivels around to face you again. âDâYOU WANNA GET MARRIED?â
A disbelieving grin breaks across his face, so wide that itâs clearly visible even from the other side of the room. âWHAT?â
âIâm going to be sick,â Satan says flatly as you turn to face your two lunch table friends again. Despite his words, he doesnât look nauseous at all, so you think that maybe heâs lying.
The rest of lunch is spent pretending to be interested in the many, many pictures Asmo shows you on his D.D.D., while Satan pretends not to be invested in this apparent wedding thatâs happening on Saturday, and acts as if he wonât cry if you donât ask him to get involved. You do contemplate not letting him in on preparations, but thatâd be a bit mean-spirited, even if he did deserve it.
Youâre not entirely sure if the weddingâs actually on or not, but either way youâve already decided that Asmo can be your maid of honour and Satan your best man. (Usually the two marrying parties only get one of those each, but you think you deserve both.) Diavolo would probably agree to officiate, and maybe Lucifer would do the walking-down-the-aisle if you begged him super hard⌠of course, thereâd be a very short guest list, but youâd like it better that way, anywayâŚ
Youâre not ashamed to say that you pay absolutely no attention to the rest of your lessons that day, too caught up in contemplating what exactly would change if you and Mammon did suddenly just get hitched. Not much, right? Itâs not like marriage will suddenly make you love each other more (and personally you think you already love each other the perfect amount). What do people even get married for in the first place, actuallyâŚ?
Later, Mammon catches up with you as youâre leaving the R.A.D., greeting you as usual by charging up and throwing his arms around your shoulders from behind. He falls into step beside you, oddly quiet for the first few minutes, swinging your hand back and forth like a thoughtful pendulum.
â...are you actually serious?â He asks finally. âAbout the⌠the marryinâ thing?â
You shrug and knock your shoulder gently into his. âIf you want me to be.â
Heâs quiet for another few moments. â...well, yeah, obviously.â
âBig commitment, marriage,â You say lightly after a moment.
âPsh,â Mammon shakes his head with a scoff. âI donât reckon itâs that big a deal, is it? I know I like you, so if I wanna marry you, I will.â
â...yeah, it really isnât a big deal,â You decide after a few seconds. âAnd itâs like weâll like each other less just âcause we didnât sign a contract, either.â
âRight?â The two of you continue walking in comfortable silence for a while. â...but, yâknow⌠it does sound kinda nice. A contractâs all official, right? So, like⌠thatâd make us official.â
âWeâre already official, though. Remember at lunch?â
âWell, yeah, butâŚâ He shrugs a little, giving your hand three light squeezes in quick succession. â...a contractâs kinda different. And, I dunno, the matching ringsâd be nice.â
âLike a symbol,â You agree. âThat youâre my dumbass forever.â
âIâm already your dumbass forever, idiot.â
âYour idiot. Also forever.â
âForever does sound pretty great.â Mammon slows down a little. â...maybe Saturdayâs too soon for somethinâ big and important like that. Weddings are usually, like, hyper-planned or somethinâ, arenât they?â
âNah, thereâs no fun in that,â You dismiss. âIf we leave it too long, weâll start second-guessing, and thatâs no fun, either. I reckon we should just do whatever feels right, no take backs.â
He snickers. âYeah, no take backs. And no take backs on the marryinâ thing, either, got it?â
âGot it. You know youâre never getting rid of me after that, right?â
âYeah, âcourse. Fine by me.â
â...is fine good?â
âFineâs the best, actually.â
âThe best,â You repeat, wondering if youâd somehow get into trouble if you just threw yourself at him now. âYou know what? Youâre really great.â
Mammon looks at you, and for a moment his entire expression just brims with adoration. â...yeah. Youâre pretty great, too.â
Hi, I love your your work! I was thinking about Simeon with a himbo boyfriend and what if they came back to life somehow. Maybe via by some unsavory method or they just need a new body to put their core in because their previous body was destroyed? Just some food for thought.
i do actually have something along these lines planned!! if you go back through the anon asks tag, you should be able to find the couple i answered in relation to it!
unfortunately i don't think it'll be out for a while - i kind of need to have the right ~vibes~ to write out something with a prompt like that, and i also have a bunch of nice fluff drafts to clear out ^^;
puppy love (get it? because gorou's a dog? get it? get
note from kin: nearly all of my drafts are just mindless generic fluff, so thatâs what yâall will be getting for the next few weeks, till iâve cleared them all out! after thatâŚ. well i donât have any ideas for afterwards, but we'll cross that bridge once we get to it
this is set post the inazuma archon quests, with a pre-established relationship because those are my JAM. you live in ritou and before this gorouâs always visited you for the dates and stuff, so this time YOUâRE visiting him on watatsumi
(iâm still pretty shaky on gorouâs character, but i just feel in my bones that heâd be a super affectionate partner once he gets past the initial shy stages of a relationship. i mean, we all know how MUCH dogs love their humans and how enthusiastic they are about showing it, soâŚ)
fandom: genshin impact
character(s): gn! reader, gorou, kozume the random watatsumi soldier that i made up, aether, paimon
pairing(s): gorou/reader
warning(s): nope!
genre: fluff!!
â[Name]âs on Watatsumi?!â
Kozume leans back in surprise as Gorou abruptly shoves his face so close to him that he actually feels his breath on his face. He curls his hand a little more tightly around his spear, a little unsettled by the look on his face. â...yes?â
âAre you absolutely sure?â Gorou presses. Kozume attempts a nod, but heâs a little distracted by the fact that the generalâs tail is wagging furiously behind him - so quickly that itâs almost a blur. âAbout so tall? Black belt with a golden charm hanging from it?â
âThatâs the one,â Kozume replies nervously. âThey were with the Captain of Swordfish II.â
âRight, the Traveller, yes,â Gorou nods distractedly. âSo, [Name] - was there anything wrong? Were they injured?â
âIâ I didnât get close enough to find out,â Kozume replies nervously, hyper-focusing on Gorouâs face in an effort to stop himself from looking behind him. His tail⌠itâs still wagging. âBut they seemed fine.â
âSeemed isnât good enough,â Gorou mutters almost frenetically. âInjuries can be internal, too⌠why else would they come here? Maybe thereâs trouble in Ritou. Or maybe they need something doneâŚ?â
Heâs talking more to himself than Kozume at this point. The fluffy ears atop his head keep alternating between turning downwards and perking up, and he canât seem to decide whether he wants to be excited or worried.
â...Iâll have to go see them,â Gorou decides finally, nodding firmly to himself. âJust to make sure nothing is amiss. Thank you for letting me know - Kabuto, was it?â
âMy nameâsââ Kozume begins, but doesnât have time to finish before Gorou has turned and bound off for the shore. â...KozumeâŚâ
Gorou makes it to the shore within a few minutes, practically sprinting the length of the entire island to get there. Itâs been, what, a month since heâs last properly spent time with you? Itâs been pure torture at times, but with the distance between your homes, there isnât much he can do. Heâd been planning an long date in Inazuma City just to make up for it allâŚ
Good thing heâs going to see you now - in a purely professional capacity, of course, because technically heâs still on the clock, and technically he also has multiple duties to perform today, but checking up on you counts as a duty, too, right? Youâve never been to Watatsumi before, so even if youâre not here because of a problem, itâs his job as a general to make sure you donât get lost or anything⌠the fact that he hasnât seen you for so long has nothing to do with it! Nothing at all!!
He bounds over a rock and comes to a stop on the sand. For a moment he doesnât see anything, and he wonders if Kozume was playing some kind of cruel trick. No, that canât be right - heâs always been nice to him⌠so where are youâŚ?
âHey, itâs General Gorou!â
Aether and Paimon hurry up to him from somewhere further down the beach. Gorou returns their smiles and tries not to look too much like heâs trying to look for someone else.
âAh, there you are,â He greets, attempting something like coolness. âWhat brings you to Watatsumi?â
âLooking for fish,â Aether replies amiably.
âFish?â Gorou repeats. Of all the places to go fishing, he chooses Watatsumi? Her Excellency wonât be happy if she finds out⌠â...I see. So isâ ahem, is [Name] with you?â
âWho?â asks Paimon cluelessly, and for a moment Gorouâs face falls, but then she âohhhâs in realisation and nods. âOh, right! From Ritou, right?â
âThey owe us some Mora for ferrying them all the way over here,â nods Aether, folding his arms. âJust another commissionâŚâ
âI see - Iâll pay the fare, itâs no problemâŚâ Gorou pats down his pockets for his money pouch, still glancing around in hopes of seeing you nearby. â...where are they?â
âThey went off to the barracks,â Aether says, stretching out his hand and nodding in satisfaction as Gorou drops a series of clinking coins into his palm. âI think they said they wanted to surprise you. They brought a cake, too, it was a nightmare keeping it from smashing in the Waverider.â
âOhâŚâ Itâs futile to even try to hide how enthusiastically his tail is responding to this. âWell, I⌠is there anything you need me for?â
âWeâre fine!â Paimon reassures. âWe know where to find the fish. You go and see your, umâŚâ
She trails off - Gorou realises that sheâs waiting for him to fill in the blank. He smiles a little bashfully. âAh, well⌠[Name]âs my⌠my person, I guess?â
âYour âpersonâ,â repeats Aether with a quirk of his eyebrow. âRightâŚâ
âHey, itâsââ He feels oddly defensive, suddenly. ââitâs more than it sounds like, alright? I just⌠donât really know what words to useâŚâ
âNo, we get it,â Aether waves him off - though judging by the expression on Paimonâs face, she doesnât. âJust go and spend some time with your person. Donât worry about us.â
Well, if heâs going to say that, Gorou might as well take him on for his word. He doesnât bother sticking around to continue acting like it isnât you that he primarily cares about at the moment; he just bounds off for his room in the barracks.
There are several other soldiers buzzing around the door, exchanging what sounds suspiciously like gossip. They all go quiet as soon as Gorou approaches, and all simultaneously point at his door, clearing a path for him to get through. Is he imagining the knowing grins on their faces?
He slides the door open and steps through, swiftly shutting it behind him. Thereâs a little cupcake sitting resplendent on the table in the middle of the room - but no you. Come on, whatâs the point of the cake if you wonât stick around to enjoy it with meâŚ?
He peers into the other room, wondering if youâve already made yourself at home in his bedroom, but thereâs no sign of you there, either. Ears drooping, he shuffles towards the table and sits down - so immeasurable is his disappointment that even the perfect frosting-to-cake ratio of the cupcake doesnât bring a smile to his face.
Did you just come to leave behind the cake and then immediately leave again? You didnât even leave a note - if he hadnât gone to see Aether first, he wouldnât even have known that this was a gift from you. Besides, you should know by now that heâd prefer your company over a gift any day.
Unless youâre busy with some other kind of business on Watatsumi, and leaving the cake for him was just a brief detour. He guesses he can understand that...
Gorouâs midway through the cupcake when he realises that heâs been spending the last few minutes pouting to himself - like a child whoâs been denied a toy. Even once heâs caught himself, though, he finds it kind of hard to wipe it off.
He licks a bit of stray frosting from his finger and folds the cake wrapper into a neat square, then sets it on his table and sits back with a morose sigh. A few moments of silence follow, and then he suddenly realises that it isnât that silent at all.
His wardrobe is laughing. And he gets the feeling that itâs been laughing for a while now.
You donât even bother trying to escape when Gorou abruptly makes a dash for the wardrobe and yanks the doors open. For a moment he stands there, staring dumb-foundedly down at you - his tail seems to have caught onto the situation before his brain has, because itâs started wagging forcefully enough to create a breeze.
âThere he is!â You coo exaggeratedly, reaching up and allowing him to pull you out of your hiding place. âTook you that long, huh?â
âI was tired,â He mumbles in a flustered attempt at an excuse, tugging you through to his bedroom. âAnd I didnât think youâd be hidingâŚâ
âI wanted to surprise you,â You reply, settling back on the mat and smiling when he practically dives for your lap. âI didnât think youâd just start sulking immediately.â
âMrmhh,â He grumbles, beginning to pout again. âYou couldâve just said hello.â
âIt was funnier this way, though.â You scratch behind his ears. His tail starts thumping aggressively on his sheets; you pretend not to notice. âI hear youâve been busy.â
âItâs always busy on Watatsumi,â He sighs, turning over onto his back to stare up at you adoringly. When you go to move your hand, he catches it and moves it straight back to his ears; you dutifully resume your ministrations. âThereâs always something else to do.â
âThe Divine Priestess hasnât given you any breaks?â
âWell, we do get them regularly, butâŚâ He reaches up and bats lazily at one of the tassels on your shirt. â...it feels strange to spend too much time idle around here. Anyway, thatâs usually when I write out my Ms Hina responses.â
âOh, yeah. Did you get mine? I sent it ages ago, but the guy I asked to deliver it for me didnât seem that reliable. I think he only agreed âcause he was gonna send a question, too.â
Gorou pauses, then thinks for a moment. âI donât know⌠waitâ was it that Arataki guy that you sent it with?â
âThatâs the one.â
âI think I ran into him while he was delivering it,â He recalls. âI was going to go collect my letters for the week, and then he came barrelling up like his life depended on it. He said something about accidentally leaving the letter in his pocket for two weeksâŚâ
âWell, thatâs Itto for you,â You sigh. âHeartâs in the right place, at least. Have you read it yet?â
âNoâŚâ One of his ears flicks slightly, as if in intrigue. âWhat did you write?â
âAhhh, I think Iâd rather leave that a secretâŚâ You grin, tweaking his nose playfully with your free hand. He wrinkles it, but smiles back up at you anyway. âJust promise to give me a real heartfelt response, okay?â
âHowâll I know which oneâs yours?â
âYou will,â You say mysteriously. That only serves to make him more curious, but he supposes he can afford to wait until his next letter-writing break.
He closes his eyes and just lies there with his head in your lap for a while, humming to himself in undisguised content as you alternate between scratching his ears and running your fingers through his ear. Heâll have to return the favour somehow later, but he just feels so comfortable right now⌠surely itâd be alright if he just took a little nap?
His thoughts turn to that letter youâve sent just before he drops off, still contemplating exactly what youâve asked Ms Hina about. Knowing you, it could be something completely nonsensical - but you know what? Heâd be fine with that. As long as itâs something youâve written, heâll be sure to read and reply to it as diligently as possible.
Dear the lovely and wise Ms Hinaâ
I have a huge dilemma! I love my partner SO MUCH, but we don't live in the same place, and sometimes we donât see each other in person for ages. I just want to make sure he knows that Iâm always proud of him and how hard he works, and that everyone appreciates him for what heâs done for the cause he believes in. How can I make sure he knows exactly how absolutely floored I am that heâs decided to keep me? How should I go about telling him how cute it is when he gets excited over cake and how cool it is when heâs focused on something and how much I appreciate him and everything he does?
â
Dearest readerâ
Personally, from the way you write, I think your partner knows all of this already. I'm sure he appreciates it dearly, too. In this case, all you need to do is stay by his side, in spirit if not in person, and everything should be just fine. I imagine that this lucky partner of yours would reciprocate everything you think of him tenfold. And I'm sure he loves you deeply, so don't falter in thinking that he does.
(There ends up being something of an uproar after this particular response is published, because Ms Hina has never called a reader 'dearestâ before. Somehow, Ms Hinaâs fans get the feeling that there's something about this exchange that doesn't quite meet the eyeâŚ)
Reminders that all your works are amazing cause I realized that I'm always just lurking and don't get to tell you how much I appreciate it (personal faves are the welcome home honey and coming back from the dead)
aww, you're always free to lurk, but i'm glad you came to say this too!! those were some of my favourites to write, too - happy you like them!!
so what if ghost MC has a bright idea to try and possess a doll (or plush) while bored alone while satan was out. what shenanigans do you think would conspire with this new found ability? what if levi was taking classes online and then suddenly boom one of his plushies was about walking and messing with his stuff. this would be terrifying assuming mc can only talk with satan
oooo this is a fun idea!! i'll save it for later, might write it out once i've finished the drafts i've been sitting on for weeks ^^