#but alas now it’s just a normal drawing

[puhpandas]

family photo 2.0

[neptunesailing]

mayoi (enstars x hnk au)

[the-furies]

on one hand. loottta ideas 4 sk!llshipping art rn bc system things. on the other hand we r procrastinating on drawing them bc will people be Normal,

[hauntingblue]

Sanji has adquired top sad wet cat status

[seapasture]

i am going to sit down and draw the gentlest scene one can possibly imagine, or the pure visual manifestation of unabashed fury. there will be no in-between (unless)

[moinsbienquekaworu]

Rewatched OFMD for my presentation and I don't know how I managed to be normal about Izzy for months but I sure as fuck am not normal about him right now

[anonprotagging]

gene was supposed to be so bitter about being in hisui and get even more angry and unhinged over time with ingo as like his one friend and, and volo was supposed to come to the slow realization that being seen by arceus is maybe not a good thing but keep up that customer service guise so by the end gene doesn’t even know if he’s learned anything

but instead they were both so desperate to talk to someone who got them that they’re literally just living together now ksjdhfkjsdhf

[arklay]

have a diana comm in progress again 🥰

[feimier]

once upon a dream.. CHILDHOOD ENCOUNTERS ִ ࣪𖤐 ִinc. riddle, azul, malleus. gn reader┊ 日长睡起无情思，闲看儿童捉柳花。。。

↻ can be taken as both platonic or romantic!

ʚ Riddle Rosehearts ：the regular at the patisserie

His first encounter with you was the same day he allowed himself to taste the strawberry tarts. The sunlight shone brilliantly on the silver of the patisserie, and he remembers your smile as you entered, and remembers how desperately he wanted to feel that too. He’d see you stand on the tips of your toes and see the excited gleam in your eyes as you observed the many delicacies with eager anticipation, and would imagine the joy he would have if only he had the privileges too.

He remembers how Trey had called you over to their table, and remembers the ghastly speech you made on how blueberry tarts were better (he begs to differ, but alas). The distressing look on your face when he told you that this was his first in a shop, much less a patisserie, was a delight to see as he savoured in your agitation. Despite the harsh scoldings from his mother after, it was still undoubtedly the best afternoon he ever had.

Life was normal for him, for a while at least. That was until he started spotting unprompted appearances of strawberry tarts sitting on his bedroom windowsill. He was originally hesitant in his advances towards the dessert, but gave in to the temptations eventually. He thought it a miracle and perhaps it was his mother’s way of apologising, yet the continuous presence of a strawberry tart every Friday afternoon proved otherwise. After the third week, notes scribbled with small riddles and greetings started to emerge along with it; drawings and poems the next. Eventually, the mysterious sender attached long letters that would narrate the mishaps of their week. Slowly but steadily, he knew more and more about his mysterious benefactor, and he could readily hazard a guess at who it was.

He would have to give you his thanks the next time he sees you, if he sees you at all.

ʚ Azul Ashengrotto ：the hopeless romantic by the sea

It was monday when he found his first scrap of text encased in the bottle next to his front door.

He was dismissive of it initially, deciding that it just wasn’t worth his time to be fixated on something so small, however peculiar and strange it might be. Yet despite his ignorance, the bottles— all with odd letters inside— keep appearing every week. They went from one to two, from two to three, and now as many as seven were found near the areas of his home, and as the amount of bottles increased, so did his intrigue.

Eventually, he could not help but fall victim to his curiosity. He slowly uncorked the bottle and took out the letter inside. He was half expecting for the ocean waters to ravage it, but the letter seemed to be covered in a special kind of gel to prevent it from dissipating with liquid, and this alone was enough to pique his interest even more. Materials such as this were quite rare, even in the merworld.. so how did this sender get ahold of it? Perhaps if he were to investigate further.. he might be able to find the great mage behind it.. maybe it was fate after all that brought these letters to him!

He was beyond disappointed to find that it was not indeed from a great mage, but rather from a simple lovesick human who was in a desperate search for affections. The letter did not contain a legendary spell that would transcend his existence, much to his disdain. Yet, the beautifully written words continued to captivate his attention, and he wonders how stupid someone will have to be to send such charming mail so relentlessly.. and with none of them getting sent back a reply. It’s quite sad honestly; makes him wonder how he might help this poor— wealthy— unfortunate soul.

Thankfully, the sender address was included in the letters. So naturally, he just had to take the first chance to lend his helping hand! He wasted no time to pen his return letter— the contents narrating the dealings and his terms. He decided to be the person that would write you a return letter every two weeks, on the conditions that you would partially financially support any of his forthcoming businesses. You ought to be able to.. considering the amount of madol you must’ve spent to acquire such magical gel.

That was the start for his first business affair. Time had long passed since then; now he lives in the present, where he sits back on his chair as he reminisces the past. He wonders how you’ve been doing recently, after all he hasn’t once received a letter from you, even after he informed you of his change in address.

Maybe it’s time to visit you directly.. to discuss the further terms of the contract of course.. now that you’re a important sponsor of mostro lounge.. he’s certain that he has no particular longing to continue knowing your thoughts, your emotions, and your life. It’s really not that you’re on his mind.. nor is it that he’s taken a liking to your ramblings.. it’s only that he believes there should be decent communication between client and proprietor (he still hasn’t realised himself that he had long broken the rule of replying only after two weeks).

He doesn’t want to know you at all.. or does he?

ʚ Malleus Draconia ：his knight in shining armour

It was not so surprising for malleus to see your rather dense form emerge from the dark robes of night and the overly lengthened barriers of his abode; it had happened much too many times and your perseverance had far surpassed his— quite limited (as you would often comment)— expectations.

Primarily, the accidental encounters he and you share were meant to be accidental. They were only ever supposed to occur in his escapades into the neighborhooding woods, just as the first he met you. At that time, he was still blissfully unaware of your abilities to initiate forced entries upon places that you were not supposed to set foot in, but alas, the current mischievous twinkle in your demeanor only continues to prove his perception to be flawed. He watches your silhouette as you hastily tidied yourself while huffing out whispers of hello— there was something especially endearing about your ruffled state, for a reason he can’t quite put a finger on (perhaps he feels that it is akin to a secret you allowed yourself to share with him, a state where only he could know, a condition where it was suited for him to be ruffled too).

You were his secret, his escape from the crushing weight of the unbearable loneliness. You were the one flicker of color in his monochromatic life, the one who made him feel alive in this dream. Your visits to his balcony were nothing less than a miracle to him ,and so his original casual anticipations of your visits have slowly turned into something he cannot live without. It was a routine that you would come for one night every week, and you’d talk with him about mundane things in life like how your toothpaste tastes weird or how you have to do your bedsheets tomorrow. These carefree conversations are one of the few ties he has with childishness, and he relishes in it, no matter how fleeting the moments may be.

He sees your goodbye as you hop off the balcony, and he waves to you with a heavier heart than usual. He did not yet know that this would be the last he sees of you, for a very long time.

comments, likes and reblogs are all greatly appreciated! thank you for the support 🌟🌟

[mysicklove-main]

Parings: Yandere! Rengoku x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 14.3k (Part 1/3)

Warnings: This chpt is pretty chill so, overprotectiveness, slight possessiveness, vague meanings, rengoku personality does 180s, character injury, minor character death, gore (demon eating human and reader gets impaled)

Summary: Meeting the one you have idolized for years is a once in a lifetime experience. So, you live it up, baking him all the treats in the world. When you finally befriend him, you believe that everything is going great. But he keeps saying strange things, and is acting like he isn't leaving by the end of the week...

𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Growing up, you have always idolized demon slayers. Your father was one, and he told you and your brother everything about them from a young age. Sure, it may have scared the daylights out of you, but at least you were forever prepared for the real world. 

He had planned to teach both of you the ways of a slayer, but he passed early into your childhood. With your mom passing at birth, it was only you and your older brother. The two of you made do with the loss.

Instead of following in your father’s footsteps, the two of you lived a simple life. The both of you live in a small cottage, just on the outskirts of a village. You woke up early every morning to sell fresh baked goods to the villagers, while your brother traveled west, aiding the sickly, and making money through donations. He always came back after one week of being gone.

When the two of you are together, you always are reminiscing over the stories your father once told. Most of the time referring back to how he met the Hashiras.

By god, you idolized them. You have always dreamed of meeting them like your father did. He described them as the most skilled people on the planet. The protectors of the human world. His words couldn’t help but draw you in. You wanted to know everything about them. How they trained, how they spoke, how they lived. 

You daydream all the time about meeting any of them. 

Specifically, the son of the man who once saved your father from death. Who granted him an extra three years with you. You have fond memories of how your father used to mention how strong the boy was from such a young age. The boy who was built to protect.

You dreamed of meeting him. You were a plain girl who lived a normal life, so you couldn’t even fathom the thought of being your age and fighting off demons. The thought of him drew you in and you vowed to someday find him.

You knew what he looked like. Your father went into detail about the child. The boy who looks like the flame. Fiery hair and eyes.

You shiver in glee like you always do when you think of your idol. He has to be your age by now, maybe a little older. You wonder what he is like, of course, he has to be unbelievably strong, but was he arrogant because of it? Or was he kind? You didn't care, you just want to see him. Talk to him. Just one time. That's all you needed.

“Hey, Y/N!” Your brother calls as you begin your journey toward the village. You turn, to see him in front of the house, his travel backpack on, and waving at you.

You frown. “You're not leaving right?” You respond, and the waving arm hesitates. He had just got home yesterday, he usually stays for a week before leaving.

“I have to! I just got word that someone needs my help.”

You sigh but nod. He always was so kind. “You'll come back? In a week?”

He grins at you, that bright smile he inherited from your father. You wish yours was as bright as his. That's part of the reason he was loved by all. “Always. I'll be back in a week’s time. Be good without me!”

You throw up a hand, waving him goodbye. “I will! Be safe!” You call and he smiles in return, before turning his back on you and beginning his journey.

You sigh when he disappears, sensing something amiss, but brush it off. Your worries always got the best of you, and you needed to focus. 

Alas, you begin to walk forward and toward the village.

You are greeted by your regulars, and many of the elderly come up to you to complain about how big you are getting. You always have to remind them that you are not a child anymore, but nevertheless, they never seem to get it. 

The villagers have always been kind to you, and you were forever grateful. With the lack of parents, it was nice to have someone to turn to for affection.

Currently, you were walking around and greeting the villagers, with your hands completely full of fresh goods. A handful of people approached you and paid their dues, with a warm smile. The business was going well, and you were having a nice time chatting with the villagers. 

You see a dark hooded figure in the distance, walking quickly toward you. Politely, you make your way to the other side of the road to avoid the stranger. You slightly nod to yourself and continue forward.

Suddenly, at a couple steps away they switch back into your lane and run completely into you. Their shoulder knocks into yours and you wince. Black gloved hands move quickly and you can see them snatch the money in your pocket. You can’t seem to do anything, because the force of his shoulder has sent you falling backward.

You land on your backside with a groan and watch all of your baked goods tumble across the pavement. Immediately you look up toward the stranger, but he was gone. So, you turn back toward the ground and try to scoop up any of the pastries you can. 

They are all ruined. You try not to let it get to you, but it hits you hard. You sit on your knees on the hard pavement and clench your fists, trying not to cry. All that time you spent baking and selling was for nothing. Just for some thief to steal your hard work from you. 

A shadow stands in front of you, but you ignore it, too focused on yourself to deal with another kind villager. You don’t want to lash out at them. 

A booming male voice says, “Are you alright?” 

You jump at the sheer power of the stranger’s call but continue to keep your head down. Tears were now pooling in your eyes and you quickly wipe them away. “I'm okay. It's fine, you can go now,” You mumble, but the shadow doesn't move.

“How could I leave a maiden in need?” He continues, still abnormally loud. You shake your head and sigh, before grabbing the remaining pastries and putting them back in their holder. When you begin to stand up, you feel a strong arm, grab onto yours and help ease your way up.

You finally look up to take in the man’s appearance and your eyes widen. Eyes and hair of a flame. A fire kimono. A sword connected to his side. 

This was him. The man you have wanted to meet your entire life. It had to be.

Your mouth hangs open as your mind blanks. He frowns slightly. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

“Its…It’s you,” You say breathlessly, not caring at the moment how strange you may sound.

He frowns even more at your vague statement. “Oh! Do you know me?” His voice causes some heads to turn, but he seems to ignore it, almost used to the stares.

You blink at him. You are at a loss for words. He was here. You didn’t actually think this would happen. It was supposed to be just a dream.   

A couple of seconds go by. 

He instead changes the subject at your silence. “Well! I see that you dropped these.” He points to the now dirty danishes. “How upsetting! I wanted to buy some. Will you make more?”

This seems to snap you back into reality and you begin to ramble nervously. “Oh…Yeah. A thief knocked me over and took my money. Just my luck, huh? But i'll be back tomorrow with fresh ones.” You're blushing. You didn’t say or do anything embarrassing, but the fact that you are finally in his presence is making you squirm.

He smiles and you tear your eyes away from him, a wobbly smile pulling at your face. “Great! I'll buy the whole bunch in advance!” He hands you a huge stack of money and you gape at him. He just handed you two days worth of cash.

“Sir, this is way too much!” You splutter, beginning to hand him back the money. He just laughs in return. His huge body tilts back with the booming noise. 

“Nonsense! It's to compensate for what the thief did to you.” 

“Are you sure sir? You don't have to do that.”

“I want to. As long as you promise to make more of those danishes!”

His kindness makes you beam and the words slip out of you before you could stop them. “You are so generous, sir. As expected of such a high-rank demon slayer!” 

You knew you sounded like a total fangirl, clutching your fists with sparkles in your eyes, but you didn’t care. The fact that you weren’t freaking out right now was impressive. 

He cocks his head to the side, the soft smile never falling. “You know who I am?”

“Of course, I know who you are! The flame harisha. One of the strongest demon slayers out there. I am a huge fan, sir!” You grin up at him, setting the ruined danishes aside, and he lets out another powerful laugh.

He didn't seem as shocked that you knew about demons as you thought he was going to be. Or maybe he was just hiding it pretty well. “I didn't know I had fans!”

You hum with a frantic nod. “If everyone knew what you did for us, you would have millions of fans!”

He places a hand on your shoulder and you buzz with happiness. “You are too kind, ma’am. But please don't give me so much praise! I am only doing my job.” 

You shake your head, “You’re being way too humble! You have no idea how great you are.” You pause, coming back to reality. You don't want to annoy the slayer with your useless rambling, he was a busy man.

You sigh and instead, bow. “Thank you for everything. I won’t take up your time.” Your voice is quieter and more controlled but still expresses your immense gratitude.

You grab your stuff and head home with a gleeful look in your eyes before he could even say anything. 

A second goes by and you begin to daydream about the types of danishes you are going to make for him. Suddenly, you feel a presence, so you turn to your side to see him walking beside you, a small content smile on his face. You almost jump, his movements were so silent, how did he catch up with you so fast? 

When he notices you take in his appearance he turns to you and grins. “You’ll be back tomorrow, right? I must dine on some of your baked goods!”

You match his intensity with a wide smile. “Of course. I wouldn’t lie to you, sir!”

“Please, call me Rengoku.”

“Of course, Mr. Rengoku!” You are buzzing again. Two conversations you have had with him and now you know his name. You couldn’t wait to tell your brother all about this.

“Great! I’ll see you tomorrow…” He pauses, turning toward you, hinting for you to continue.

“Y/N.”

“Tomorrow then, Miss Y/N. Stay safe!” And just like he appeared, he disappeared in a matter of seconds, while you are stuck red in the face from your idol saying your very own name. 

You could die happy.

You woke up extra early the next morning. The goods had to be absolutely perfect. You were determined for him to like them. You even used some frosting to draw little orange flames on them. You hoped he didn’t think they were lame. It’s definitely a very good possibility he did.

When the sun rose, you grabbed your iteams and quickly headed down the hill. The quicker you got there, the better. You didn’t want them to get cold.

The town was extra busy that day. More people greeted you on the streets and you had to apologize to many that you weren’t selling today. After all, he bought every single one.

Your head hung high and you were practically skipping around the town, beaming at anyone and everyone. 

You don’t seem to notice the small curb in front of you. You run into it, and screech when you begin to fall forward, not knowing what to do. You could drop your danishes and save yourself from pain, or you could move the basket up and brace yourself for a harsh fall straight to the face.

You weren’t about to let Rengoku’s desserts get ruined. 

Just as you were about to hit the floor you stop. You feel a hand on your shoulder, as you stare face to face with the ground. You clutch the pastries. “Miss Y/N, its a pleasure seeing you here!” The familiar voice calls and you turn red out of sheer embarrassment at the situation you are in.

He pulls you back with just one hand and you have to physically restrain yourself from fangirling. He held your entire weight with one hand like it was no big deal. 

You quickly turn around, trying to ignore the fuming of your face, and hold out the pastries to him. “Here! I hope you like them!” You exclaim while pulling the lid off to show him the decorated buns. You take in a deep breath and wait.

His eyes seem to sparkle when he takes in the frosting and you take this as a good sign. He smiles wide and grabs one of the goods. Without a second thought, he plops the entire thing into his mouth. 

He chews in silence, and you could almost hear your heartbeat pound as you wait for his thoughts.

With a swallow, his eyes fall back to you, and he says, “Tasty!” 

You beam instantly, matching his wide smile. “You think so?”

“I know so. These are one of the most delicious baked goods I have ever had!” The gleeful buzzing is back, you knew that your baking was good, but to hear it from his mouth was such a gift. 

He puts both hands on both of your shoulders and you freeze at the touch, internally freaking out. “Come with me, Miss Y/N. Let us eat them together!” He exclaims, before snatching the goods from your hands with one hand and pulling you behind him with the other. You don’t have room for protest.

He leads you to the edge of the town and plops himself on a curb behind a small restaurant, and faces the hill you live on. You sit next to him, and he doesn’t seem to care about personal space, because almost instantly he is crowding yours. 

You’re going to have to get used to this, you can’t freak out anymore than this.

He opens the box again and hands you one of the goods, but you pull away. “Those are for you, Mr. Rengoku. I can’t take something you bought!”

But, to your dismay, he grabs your hands, places a baked good into them, and shuts his fingers over yours. “Eat!”

You weren’t going to ignore his demand, so you pick up the bun and begin to nibble on it. He stares, waiting for a reaction. You smile hesitantly, “It’s good!”

“Right!” He exclaims before placing another danish into his mouth, with another loud, “Tasty!”

You begin to laugh at his antics. The way he yells, the way he dragged you away like it was nothing, and simply how enthusiastic he seemed to be. He was a strange man, but you couldnt help but like him even more.

He looks at you as he chews, while you throw your head back in a laugh. “Is there something funny?” He asks, glancing around the area. It was just the two of you.

“You are just so…so human!”

He mimics your smile, even if he is totally lost at your vague statement. “Well, I'd hope so!” He says before taking another huge bite.

Your smile softens as you stare at the food in your hands. “It’s just, I thought you would be different, you know? A Hashira, shouldn't you be super serious or arrogant?”

He swallows his bite and looks out toward the hill. His voice comes out softer, “You idolize me too much Miss Y/N. I am nothing but a man who must protect the weaker people of this world.”

“But do you want to? You aren’t forcing yourself to do this because of your father, right?” He turns to you with slightly wider eyes and blinks. The two of you remain in silence for a couple of seconds.

But then he grins, with the tilt of his head. He places a massive hand on the top of your head and you freeze. “Not to worry, Miss Y/N. I love what I do. I wouldn't change it for the world,” He says, slightly ruffling up your hair. 

Another couple of seconds go by as you think of what to say. But he speaks up before you do. “You knew my father?” The man prompts, turning his attention directly on you. It makes you nervous, his watchful eyes seem to take in your every move.

You press on either way, tearing your eyes away so you can focus. “No, but he saved my father about ten years ago. So, I am forever indebted to the Rengoku family. I cannot thank you enough, Mr. Rengoku. Even if it wasn’t you who saved my father, you and your family have protected so many people. Saved so many. It's incredible, really, you're incredible,” You hum and he continues to stare.

You continue, you have been waiting to tell someone this, specifically him, so you couldn’t stop the rambling. “All of the Hashira are. For years I’ve daydreamed about meeting them. You specifically.” You glance up at him and quickly look back down in embarrassment when you see his small smile. “I've always idolized you all. It’s strange to think, we are the same species, but you are someone who risks their lives daily to kill demons, why I sell pastries to keep food on the table. It’s kinda embarrassing when you think about it…” You trail off, taking another bite of the good to keep yourself distracted.

Seconds go by and you begin to get uncomfortable. You turn toward him to meet his watchful stare. His fiery eyes seem to look through you. “I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable? I said way too much, please just enjoy the bun, I'll be quiet, I promise!”

He sets the danish down and your eyes follow it with a slight frown. He forcefully grabs your hands and you quickly look up shocked at the sudden touch. “Thank you for the kind words!” He yells and you cringe slightly at the volume. “But like I said yesterday, we are just fulfilling our duty. You are not indebted to anything. And Miss Y/N please don’t think that way! You don’t have to kill demons to be great, you know. Being this good of a baker is way more important than someone like me!”

The way he says it throws you off. It all sounds so genuine like he truly believes that what you are doing is important. He definitely knows how to make someone feel special. “T-Thank you, Mr. Rengoku!”

He smiles wide. “Please, call me Kyojuro! I think we are going to be friends, Y/N!”

You are taken aback. You didn’t think you would ever be friends with someone like him. It makes you grin. “You really think so?”

“Yes! Besides how else am I going personalized fresh goods from a pretty lady?” He says, gently letting go of your hands so he can point to the wobbly icing drawing of a flame located on the center of the bun. 

Your face fumes, both from embarrassment at his compliment and the ridiculous decoration. You wave your hands in front of your face. “It’s nothing! You deserve much more sir—Kyojuro.”

“Nonsense! How could anyone deserve something so magnificent!” He declares, loud and full of pride. 

It made another small laugh slip through your lips. It was endearing to see how passionate he was about the smallest things. He was unreasonably kind to you. 

He grins with a small hum, when he sees you smile, before shoving another bun into his mouth. 

“Tasty!” 

And just like that, you made friends with a Hashira.

The two of you were quick to get closer to one another. I mean it was simple really, you interviewed him on his entire life story, while he happily explained. You bring him goods every day, and no matter how much you reassure him it’s fine, he always insists on paying you the full amount.

But nevertheless, you have been avoiding the question that hangs in the air. Why are you here?

You don't want to know. There has to be a demon near or else he would never come to this small town. You fear that when you ask that question it’s going to spur his leave. It’s been four days now. He has to be on his way soon.

You've grown attached even in this short period of time. He has to have that effect on others; you wouldnt believe him if he said otherwise. He was the type of person who people couldn’t help but be drawn to. It made you feel possessively good that he was spending time with you rather than the other villagers.

A shoulder bumps into you while you are lost in your daydream. You flinch back and into Kyojuro. He glances down at you and then snaps his gaze back to the man that knocked into you. In less than a heartbeat, the Hashira steps in front of you and grabs onto the jacket of the stranger. You could barely even process what was happening.

“Sir, I’d ask for you to apologize. You’ve disrespected a lady,” His voice is tight, but the Hashira smiles at the man. It makes you gulp.

You realized quickly that Kyojuro is…overprotective. It made sense though, his whole job is to protect people, but these were humans he was protecting you from. And most of the time they weren’t even doing anything amiss. Simple things like, a salesman having a snarky tone at you, a man trying to flirt with you for your service, a small child almost tripping you, or now, someone who accidentally bumped into you.

He never gets truly upset, the smile is still plastered on his face, but the tone is always sharp, dangerous even. His voice was powerful naturally, so to hear it shift was intimidating. 

You grab onto his arm before the man could speak. “It’s fine, Kyojuro. It was my fault, I wasn’t paying attention.” You turn to the man and quickly bow in apologies. 

His gaze sharpens, and you see his eyebrows begin to furrow at your actions. He didn’t seem to like this.

The man remains in his grasp. “Hey, you can let him go now,” You say, moving your hands to his fingers to try to coax them open.

His eyes remain locked on the man who was now struggling in his hold. “Apologize, sir.”

“Kyojuro, I said-”

He cuts you off, his loud voice cutting your train of thought short. “He touched you, so he must make up for it.” He smiles at you, but this time it doesn’t feel the same as it usually does. The malice in his voice is unhidden.

“I’m sorry! Can you just let me go you crazy bastard!” The man complains, grabbing at the Hashira’s wrist to pull himself away. 

In an instant, Rengoku drops him, and the man scampers away, mumbling curses underneath his breath.

You sigh, your gaze following the man that beginning to disappear into the crowd. When you turn back around, Rengoku is staring at you, the familiar small smile on his face. “Was that really necessary?” You whine.

He huffs a small laugh, before placing a hand on your head. Something he seems to do as a sign of affection. “Of course it was! I can't let you be treated that way!”

His usual smile is back and you find comfort in it. In these moments he was always different, but he always snapped back to usual not long after. So, you tend not to dwell on them.

“Whatever you say, Kyojuro,” You hum, before changing the subject. “C’mon, let's head back to my place, I wanna teach you something!”

He pauses, eyes slightly widening. He has never been to your place before. The two of you tended to stay in the village, spending daylight hours with one other. You have never asked him over, and at this time. It was almost evening.

It made him concerned. Do you invite other men over to your place? He knew you idolized him, but if you had met Tengen or Giyuu first, would you have invited them over as well? It made him feel strange to think about it. You were too accepting, you should be more cautious of inviting people over. The two of you only met a couple of days ago.

“You don’t have to go if you don't want to…” You say, your voice unsure at his original silence.

He snaps back to reality, and blinks at you a couple of times, before grinning wide. “I would love to go!” He bellows, causing heads to turn. 

You’re used to it by this point, so you grab his hand and lead him up the mountain.

He looks massive in your small cottage. It wasn't just his height. It was his overall frame that made him look so out of place. It wasnt built for a Hashira to live in.

You decided not to comment on it, you didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Besides, a demon slayer needs a frame like that. It was rather intimidating.

You lead him into the kitchen, pulling him away from the shrine dedicated to your parents. He didn’t comment on it, instead bowing low and letting himself be dragged. 

You begin to pull out your baking materials, while he stands and watches, occasionally asking if you need any help, to which you deny with a hum.

Finally, once settled you dramatically slam your first on the table, and look up at him with a smile. His eyes follow your fist in a confused, but delighted stare. “I am going to teach you how to bake!” You exclaim, hands thrusting into the air with excitement.

His eyes light up. “Tasty!”

You in turn roll your eyes, the smile still plastered on your face. “That's the goal. I hope that you can make your own goods when…you know.”

His eyes soften, and his voice drops. “I leave?”

“Yeah.”

He walks over to you, and he uses his hand to lightly trace the area near your temple, bending down slightly to meet your gaze. “Don't worry about that for now. We've got time.”

Your mind travels back to that question.

Why are you here? 

You ignore the recurring thought. It never seems to leave you alone. It wasn’t worth thinking about it. You were here with your idol, and that should be enough for you. Just meeting him should have been enough. You found yourself getting greedy.

You nod into the touch, blushing slightly, when he pulls away with a hum. You never got used to how physically affectionate he was.

He seemed to think nothing of it, constantly brushing his hand against your body. You’ve thought it was an accident at first, when his hands lingered on your hips for a second too long, or when his hands seem to twitch when they graze yours. But when he led you through a crowd with a hand on your back, it made you realize how touchy he must be.

You didn’t mind of course. If he was showing any affection toward you, it had to be a blessing. Demon slayers would kill to talk to a Hashira, nevertheless, be friends with one. 

“So where do we begin?” Rengoku prompts, rubbing his hands together as to prepare them for heavy work. 

You laugh, cutting your thoughts off, and begin the lesson.

It turns out he is horrible at baking. For all of the talents he was gifted with, the kitchen was not one of them. 

He tried, truly he did, his face is covered with flour, and whenever you asked if he needed help, he pretended that he was doing completely fine. It was cute, really.

But, after twenty minutes of struggling to follow your commands, you saw him begin to get frustrated. His brows were pinched as he tried to knead the dough, way too hard than usual. His fingers dug into it, and you heard his noises of annoyance under his breath. 

You walk over to him and stand next to him, before reaching over to put your hands on his. “Gently, Kyojuro. Like this.” You murmur, before guiding the both of your hands to knead the dough, gently this time. 

His hands are much larger than yours, and you struggled to move them, but he went completely lax under your hands. He lets you lead them into the repetitive motion, while you mumble instructions. 

His silence becomes deafening. Rengoku isnt one to stop talking, especially in situations like these. 

You glance up at him, to see that he is staring at you. His eyes are opened wide, his mouth curled up in a small content smile. “What?” You muse, automatically removing your hands from his. His smile drops when they leave.

“That's the first time you touched me.”

“What? No, it’s not, I feel like the two of us are always somehow touching one way or another.”

He barks a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, but I always initiated them. You touched me, Y/N!”

You turn red. “Am I not allowed to?” You say, trying not to let the embarrassment get to you.

“Of course not! Please, feel free to touch me at any time and anywhere!”

“Don’t say it like that!”

“What? I am merely speaking the truth. I enjoy it immensely when you touch me, Y/N!” Your hand covers his mouth before he could get anything else out. He blinks at you, before closing his eyes with a wide smile. Probably grateful you were touching him again.

What he was saying was true. You tried to keep a little bit of space between the two of you. Even if he enjoys physical contact, you didn’t want to catch him on a bad time and have him snap on you. Honestly, you don't want to do something that may make him upset, because the idea you have of him in your mind would be tarnished. You like how you see him now.

“Are you done now?” He nods frantically under your hand. You pull away and he beams at you. It was rare to see him not smiling honestly. 

He turns back to the dough, a determined look on his face. “Alright, I believe I can do this! Gently this time!” 

You nod and stand close to him as he begins to try to knead the dough. 

Too soft. Way too softly. It looked like he was afraid to touch it. You sigh. “Kyojuro, I don't think this is going to work.”

His body snaps over to you, his eyes wide and looking a little panicked. “What’s not going to work?” He splutters. 

It was the first time he didn’t look like a Hashira in your eyes. He looked like a regular man, who also have their fears and worries. But you have no idea what he seems to be worried about. 

You place a hand on his lower arm and tilt your head to the side in a soft grin. His eyes flicker to it, and his body seems to jolt at the touch. He focuses his stare on you. “You baking. I think you should stick to demon-slaying, hmm?”

“But how am I supposed to eat these delicious goods?”

You pause, using your other finger to tap your chin. “You could visit me from time to time and I can make them for you.”

He stares at you, a small frown on his face. He seems to do this a lot, you’ve taken notice too. The staring. It’s like he goes into a whole different world when he looks at you. Sometimes he would speak on what he was thinking about, others he would change the subject.

It seemed that he felt like talking today. Even if the results shocked you so. “Or you could live with me!” He exclaims so loud you swear you saw your porcelain cups shiver.

You blink at him. He smiles in return, and grabs both of your hands, cupping them in his own. “What?”

“I said, you could live with me!”

You shake your head, eyes flickering to your hands in his hold. “No, I know what you said, but what are you talking about? I can’t just pick up and move in with a guy I just met, simply because you like my danishes.”

His smile falters. “It will be more than just you baking for me, I promise Y/N. Besides, we met four days ago and we seem to get along perfectly!  Do you not trust me?”

“Of course I trust you, you are a Hashira after all. The world has to trust you.”  He doesn't seem to like this answer. His smile drops completely now, and his eyebrows slightly furrow. You gulp, not wanting him to be upset at you. “I mean–It's just that I can’t leave my brother alone! I have to stay here and watch the house when he is gone!”

He drops your hands, the smile returning. “Of course! The brother. You are so kind, Y/N, really.” His hand lands back on your head, ruffling the lose strands. His voice seems to be just barely strained, and the grip on your head is a tad bit harsher than usual. Not enough to hurt, but enough to notice the difference.

It’s not that you don’t want to go with him. It would be a dream come true to live with a Hashira. But you weren’t dumb. You knew that underneath the kimono and the blade by his side, he is still a man. A strong one at that. 

The thought made the image of him in your head start to blur once more. You are getting too close to him, and although it was nice to be his friend, when he leaves you don’t want to think of him any differently.

You focus on the task at hand. You fix your hair quickly, while he laughs gently. You beam back at him. “Well, lets finish teaching you how to bake!”

“Right!”

Tomorrow your task was to pick up necessities from the village next door. Stuff like flour, cloth, string, baking supplies, and maybe, if you made enough this week, a new pair of shoes. You go on these trips once every three weeks. They took about the whole day, as it was about a five-ish mile walk and you needed to visit many different shops.

So, you couldn’t see Rengoku tomorrow. The thought made you a little sad, but the two of you had seen each other for five days in a row. You didn’t want him to get sick of you anyways.

The two of you sat on the bank of the nearest river. Him filling up the containers for you, even when you tried to stop him, reassuring you that you could do it by yourself. He didn’t listen of course.

It’s silent between the two of you, instead listening to the sounds of the river passing by. His leg is touching yours. You don’t know if it’s purposeful or not. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” You hum, trying to start up a conversation.

Silence. Your eyes flicker to him. He stares at the ground, eyes wide, and darting back and forth along the grass, as if trying to process something. His hand grips his kimono. “Where?” He breathes, after a couple more seconds of thick tension.

You try to laugh it off, confused by the mood shift, and his eyes snap toward you. Recently, he has gotten more…serious. It made you even more afraid that he was beginning to not like you. “Where?” He questions again, his voice louder this time.

“To the next village over. Need some supplies. It will only take a day,” You reason, and you swear you could see his body begin to relax. 

And suddenly, as if nothing happened, he turns to you with a grin on his face. “Of course! We shall go together!” 

You blink at him, the thoughts of him getting sick of you resurfacing. Besides, he had a mission to do, you know he did, whether he told you or not. “I appreciate that, Kyojuro, but I kinda wanna do this alone.”

His grin falls in a heartbeat, and his eyes become wide again. Similar to how he looked yesterday. Panicked. “Are you sick of me?”

“What? No! Of course not. How could I ever get sick of you?”

He huffs, turning toward you. “Then we go together!”  

“But,” You continue, causing his smile to drop. “I think it’s a good idea for us to spend some time apart. We’ve only just recently met, and we have spent every day together.”

“That’s true! But we are enjoying it, are we not?”

“Well yeah, but we may not…soon.”

“Why?” He begins to move closer to you. You can almost feel his breath on your skin. The proximity makes you shiver.

“Because…Because I don’t know! That’s just how it works.”

“I will not enjoy spending time with you, Y/N. I hope the same for you.” He says that now, but you don’t believe him truly. It’s human nature for one to need alone time. It was strange that someone like him who works alone most of the time doesn’t understand it.

Your head is scrambling for something else to say, and without meaning to you tell him what you have been wanting to know for so long. “Kyojuro, what are you even doing here?”

He falters at this and your own eyes widen. You didn’t mean for it to come out like that. “I’m sorry–I meant, It’s just…are you on a mission out here?”

He smiles at you, his gaze soft, like you say anything, and still, he wouldn’t be mad at you. “Yes. There is a group of demons near the woods. I’m here to end them!” 

His story sounds plausible, but you weren’t stupid, he was a Hashira. This mission should have ended after at most two days. And not only that, you haven’t heard of any people going missing. Was he saving them and taking his time to kill the demons? 

Rengoku wouldn’t do that. The flame Hashira would never leave demons walking on this world willingly. He must be planning a strategy to kill them. He must be. 

But you’ve heard stories of how his father took down hundreds with little to no trouble. Was Rengoku weaker than you thought?

You couldn’t stand the thought of the glorified picture in your head being damaged.

So, you nod. “Well, you should probably stay here to protect the villagers in case something goes amiss?”

“Don’t you worry, my Y/N! Demons don’t come out in the day! The villagers will be completely fine with my absence. Please let me come along! I will not be a nuisance!”

He seems adamant about him coming, and you didn’t want to be a bother. So, with one last sigh, you nod and give in. Besides, you wouldn’t ever be sick of him, and you couldn’t help but cling to the idea that maybe he wouldn’t be either.

The Hashira accompanied you on your journey the next day, grinning the entire time while carrying your bags.

Two days have passed by. You’ve been with him for six days in a row now, and honestly, you’ve never been better. You were wrong about the idea of getting sick of him. Nothing about him steered you away.

In fact, you believe that you have started to have a crush on the Hashira. 

Not that you would ever admit it. It was a ridiculous idea, but you couldn’t help but fall for him. It wasn’t even him being a Hashira that drew you in now, it was his personality. Sure, he would always make you feel safe and protected from harm, but it was the way he smiled at you that made your heart flutter. The way he was always so polite, and treated you with the utmost respect.

You haven’t experienced many people like him, so like a moth to the flame, you began to fantasize about what it would be like to be with him. 

But, it was naive of you. He was bound to leave soon. A group of demons has ought to be killed soon. If not, his master would surely call upon him soon.

You were growing too attached to him. It was weird to think about how you would have to start doing everything alone again. How silent everything is going to be again. 

If you went with him, what would life be like for you?

You throw the thought out. You couldn’t leave your brother alone, he’s all you had left. The two of you needed each other to survive.

“I feel jealous of whoever you are thinking about, Y/N,” Rengoku calls from behind his shoulder, as he helps you put away some dishes. He turns to you with a smile on his face.

You laugh lightly, beginning to get used to his teasing. “Aw, too bad you’ll never know.” 

He sets the dish down and begins walking over to you, with a small smirk and raised eyebrow. You don’t move. He approaches you, much too closely as usual, and you try to refrain from blushing. “What?”

“And if I make you tell me?” He questions, eyes staring deeply into yours.

“Hmmm, how?”

His smile widens at your tone. “I have some ideas!”

You laugh at this and jab a finger into his chest. “You, my Hashira, wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

He blinks at you. “You know just what to say to make a man blush!” He exclaims, the familiar loudness returning. It was true, his face seemed to have a twinge of pink.

It took you a second to understand. You didn’t mean it like that. The “my Hashira” was only supposed to tease him in turn. It made you fume from embarrassment. You begin to scramble to explain yourself, but he places his large hand on your head again.

His voice goes softer. “But my flame, that isn’t true. Please don’t doubt me. I wouldn’t hesitate to end someone if anyone hurts you. It’s my job to protect you.”

The seriousness in his voice makes you uneasy. “A demon right? Not a human?” You question, sounding way more nervous than you should be. The way he said it made you really think about how strong he truly is. Without a second thought, he could kill you or anyone if he wanted to. 

This thought confused you. Rengoku would never hurt you, nor any human, why does the thought seem to leave a chill down your spine? How are you having these thoughts, when not even a minute ago you were thinking about potentially leaving with him?

He stares at you, the smile not leaving his face. “Exactly,” He says, and then removes his hand from your head, to turn back to the dishes. He was always booming with confidence, why did he sound so doubtful?

Why are you questioning a Hashira’s morals?

You have to get your mind off the subject. It was making things complicated and you were allowing paranoia to get the best of you.

You creep up next to him, grabbing the clay cup from his hands, and away. “Kyojuro, do you remember the time I showed you how to bake?”  

He turns to you with a wide smile, eyes lighting up. “Of course! They were delicious!” Well, yours were. His didn’t turn out as well. You gave up on teaching him how to bake correctly, and he didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Well, you must pay a price for my knowledge,” You hum, turning your back towards him to hide your smile.

“Not to worry, I will pay for all the ingredients!”

You roll your eyes at the offering. “A different price. I did you a service, now you have to do me one.”

Footsteps approach you rapidly, and suddenly his chest is against your back. You jump at the feeling and crane your head to look up at him. 

Two bright eyes stare down at you, blinking owlishly. His hands fall to your shoulder, and his smile is different this time. It seems more like a smirk, rather than a grin. But still, you could tell that the man was practically gleaming. “What type of service, Y/N?”

His low voice startles you, and you flush at the noise. As on instinct you jump away from his hold and turn toward him. “Not that type of service!” You scramble out, trying and failing to keep your cool.

He laughs at this, and you clench your fists in embarrassment. “I apologize, I was teasing you, Y/N!” When you don’t respond, he continues, tone lighter than before. “I am at your beck and call, what do you need from me?”

“I would like for you to teach me some basic self-defense mechanisms.”

His eyes sharpen in an instant, the laugh in his voice gone. “Why? I will protect you.”

You frown at him, not expecting this reaction. “When you leave, Kyo.”

“You don’t need to protect yourself, I said this earlier. I will not let anything touch you. It’s my duty.”

“When you leave,” You repeat when he doesn’t get the memo. He’s acting like he could protect you even when is gone for his next mission.

His eyebrows furrow and his voice comes out flat. “Do you want me to leave?”

It feels like an accusation.

“What? No, but its inevitable.”

He grabs onto your hands and holds them tightly. It feels more than a regular friendship hold, it seemed desperate, but you were too engrossed in the situation to even think about that. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

You try to pull away, but he holds them in place. Your voice goes softer, almost as if you were soothing a small child. “I can’t go with you, Kyojuro and you know that. My brother needs me.”

His smile drops in an instant and his face turns cold. “Fine. I’ll teach you. Let’s go outside.” The swordsman says cooly, dropping your hands and beginning to walk toward the door of your house. 

Regret fills your veins. You have never seen him upset at you, and you have no understanding of what you did was wrong. He should know that the two of you living together was strange. Unless he was asking for marriage? But that doesn’t seem right, he hasn’t made any romantic moves on you and he would need your brother’s blessing to even be considered.

Or was it asking him to train you that made him upset? But that also didn’t make any sense. Wouldnt he want you to be more protected? Learning basic self-defense is something that everyone should know, and could possibly save your life. 

He was so confusing. In one second he’s smiling at you with stars in his eyes, and in the next, he seems to be a completely different person. 

Who was he, really?

You scramble toward the door.

He stands in front of you, back facing you. His figure stands tall, and his hair gently falls on the top of his shoulder. Even from far away, he oozes with power.

You tip-toe your way over to him, gulping when his eyes flash to you the second your feet land on the pathway. You smile awkwardly at him, and he in return nods his head with a huff. He turns around to face you. The two of you stand in front of one another in silence. 

You begin to apologize, the strange mood was not something you intended, but he cuts you off. “To begin, take out the knife in your pocket.”

You flinch, staring at him in shock. You never told him about the knife you store in case of emergencies. It’s hidden beneath enough fabric that nobody could feel it on you even if they patted you down.

He watches you begin to scramble for an explanation and laughs. The powerful noise throws his head back, with the return of the smile. Another strange shift in his personality. But you don’t mind it at the moment. The cold shoulder he gave you worried you. The laugh makes you feel more at ease immediately, almost forgetting completely about the knife. 

“I saw a glimpse of it when you reached for the top shelf!”

A simple explanation. Obviously, it had to be, you were being dramatic, Rengoku would never do anything weird. So, you just nod at him and reach into the cloth to pull out the steel blade. 

It was nothing fancy, but your father gifted it to you when you were younger, so you treasured it deeply.

“Great job, Y/N! Now attack me,” He beams, stepping a couple of feet away to give you running room.

You blink at him, trying to ignore the borderline embarrassing encouragement. He said it like you actually did something great. “What?”

“You heard me! Attack me! Pretend I am the thief from a couple of days back!” You do what he says without much hesitation. You asked to be trained, and he knows exactly how to do it. Besides, he was a trained swordsman it’s not like you were going to actually land a blow on him.

You charge at him and swing the knife up toward his shoulder. As expected, he dodged immediately. He now stands behind you. “Again!”

You shift your feet toward him, clenching your teeth as you take another strike, this time aiming for his neck. Like before, he seems to disappear. An arm grabs onto your wrist. He quickly moves your hand positioning on the blade, huffing when satisfied. “That was great Y/N!” 

You nod your head, ready for some pointers or any sort of criticism. But Rengoku just stands a couple feet away, and waits for another attack. You grip the knife, and try a different strategy, instead aiming for his feet. It’s useless, he jumps away. “Creative!”

You huff from the exertion and glare at him. Frustrated at the lack of advice, you speak up. “You are supposed to be teaching me.”

He flashes you a grin. “I am!”

“No, you’re not. Your toying with me. How am I supposed to get any better?”

“I actually think you are great at self-defense! And with me around you will never be in danger. I think its time to head inside for the night!”

When he turns to walk away, you jump in front of him, clutching the base of the knife. “Kyo, this is training for when you are gone.”

His eyes flicker to the blade, and for a moment, his voice is flat. “If you want to continue, keep swinging at me.” You obey his command and try to slam your arm into his shoulder. He continues, voice now expressing more of his emotions, “Why do you keep bringing that up? We will deal with that later!”

You scan the area for where he landed after the dodge. “Your mission is bound to end soon. I know how these things work, my father told me about it. You will leave and it will be soon.”

With a swipe to his collarbone, he jumps back behind you, and you feel his hand caress your neck. You shiver at the soft touch of his calloused fingers. His breath is right next to your ear. “Are you forcing me away?”

You clench your teeth at this and try to turn to him, but he has already moved. “Why do you keep saying these things?”

“Because it sounds like you want me to leave. Is that it, Y/N? You’re sick of me already?”

Another swing, you're so worked up that you don’t even care where to aim at.

“No! My god Kyojuro, you are acting so strange!” In an instant, you feel the blade come in contact with flesh and you freeze. Your heartbeat picks up, eyes wide, as you stare at the Hashira.

Blood drips from his hand and feel yourself pale. Your pulse picks up when the Hashira eyes for the first time during this training leave yours. He hisses out in pain and you watch his eyes widen at the wound. 

“Oh. Ow.”

You immediately rush over to him to make sure he was alright. You grip his hand, mind trying to grasp anything your brother has taught you. You half drag him to your cottage, dropping the knife midway. He follows behind you silently, holding his hand up to try to slow the bleeding.

You push him into the nearest chair, and scramble toward the first aid kit your brother left. 

When you return, he’s staring at you silently, like he is waiting for some sort of reaction. You pay no mind to it, trying to stay focused on the task at hand. 

You kneel down in front of him and he jumps, grabbing onto the chair with the other hand. You glance at him with a raised eyebrow, before grabbing his hand and beginning to clean the wound. “I'm sorry. I should have been paying attention. I didn't mean to.”

“Hmm. It really hurts.” His tone comes out whinier than you have ever heard before and you begin to really panic. He was a demon slayer, he must get hurt all the time, and if this was hurting him, then it must have been a sensitive spot.

When you pour alcohol on the injury, he hisses and you place a hand on his leg to try to comfort him. You feel his gaze on you, as you hold back tears, the guilt tearing ruthlessly at you.  “I’m sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?”

A smile begins to resurface and you feel better almost instantly. “No more lessons?!” he says, placing the other hand on your head again. 

Why was he so insistent on you not being able to protect yourself? Wouldnt he feel better knowing that you can be safe on your own? 

Maybe he has some sort of traumatic past for self-defense that you don’t know about? You don’t know much about him, so that does sound like a reasonable answer. 

 “Of course! I promise I won't ask again.” 

He beams down at you and your heart begins to pound, like it has been the past couple of days. “Great!”

You nod at him, and his eyes flicker to the hand still placed on his leg. You immediately pull away from him, embarrassed, but he grabs it before you can fully remove it. “One more request.”

You try your best not to blush, as he places the hand back on his leg, and begins to rub his thumb over the back of it. His voice softens, and his stare is unwavering. “You have to dote on me. I’m injured, so you can't leave my side until I have healed.”

You blink slowly, but nod your head automatically. It was his dominant hand that was injured, so he may struggle with basic tasks. Plus, you didn't mind not leaving his side. It’s not like the two of you have not been glued to one another since you met. It wouldnt be that big of a change. “Of course! I'll take care of everything. You don’t have to lift a finger. I’m sorry again, Kyojuro.”

He smiles, with a tilt of the head and picks up your hand, giving it a gentle, but affectionate squeeze. “Nonsense! But Y/N, I need you to promise not to leave my side. Do you understand?”

The intensity in his words makes you hesitate. “Until you are healed?”

His words become more frantic, and the grip on your hand tightens. He refuses to look away from you, the bright eyes seeming to peer into you. “Yes. Can you promise me?”

You had no idea why he was so insistent about this right now, but you give in immediately under his stare. “I promise I won't leave your side.”

He stands up, pulling you up effortlessly with him.“Good! Now, don't you think its time for bed!”

You pause for a second, completely forgetting about the fact that he was spending the night. At night he was off slaying demons, or so you assumed, so you never really saw him past sundown. You glance at the hand and sigh, he must have to stop because of you. You ignore the ache in your heart. You already apologized, it was the best you could do.

“Sure. You can sleep on my brother’s cot. He isn’t here.”

He uses your hand to pull your forward, so you had to look directly up at him. You are used to the forwardness, so when you collide with his chest, you don't even question it. “You just promised,” He says with a cocked head.

“But you won’t need any help when you're sleeping!”

He throws his head back in a laugh. “You never know! Besides, I think–” He hisses out and his eyes fall back to the injury. Your own eyes widen and quickly cup the injured hand, worry plastered on your face.

You are quick to reply, not wanting to make it harder for him. “Okay. I'll bring the cot into my room!” You scramble out, before heading into your brother's room and beginning to drag it over. 

He starts to walk toward you, as to help you, but he stops midway. He glances at his hand, and then sighs gently, fidgeting as he watches you move the cot by yourself.

Once finished you turn to him with a small smile. “I am going to get ready for bed. I can lend you my brother’s sleep attire?” 

“It’s okay! I have clothes under my kimono that I wear to bed.” He says, already peeling himself from the top layer of clothing. You slam the door shut immediately, and you hear the booming laugh from behind the door.

As you head back to wash your face, your mind travels back to the incident. No matter how you think about it, it was strange. He dogged every single one of your attacks without even a hint of a challenge. It was like he wasnt even taking you seriously.

So how did you land a blow? You were just a regular girl and he was a trained Hashira, ready to defend himself at any moment.

Was this on purpose?

But Rengoku wouldn’t do anything sly. He was always kind to you, and a Hashira. Hashira’s don’t trick people, they protect them from people who scheme.

He must have been distracted from the whole self-defense thing. You should really stop doubting his morals.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a slightly burnt piece of paper on the floor. About the size of a letter. 

Immediately, you wander over to it, confused because you haven't received a letter in a while. Plus, you would have read it before and why was it opened?

When you bend down to pick it up, a hand lands on your shoulder. You jump back in shock, to see a shadowed figure.

You know it’s Rengoku, even in the darkness, his figure is very much defined. But the presence still makes you unnerved. Maybe it’s the fact that you can’t see his smiling face in the darkness. “Kyo?”

His voice is flat. “C’mon, Y/N. Let's go to sleep.”

Your eyes flicker toward the paper on the floor. “Sure, one second I just need to–”

“In the morning. Please? I can’t go to sleep if you aren't there.” You feel the brush of the bandages on the back of your neck. It makes you shiver, and remember his injury. You clench your fist for a second, but sigh and turn around. 

He was right, it will be there tomorrow, and besides it would be hard to read at this time anyways. “Right.”

As the two of you lay next to one another, his non-wounded hand brushing over your face, you make small talk. The two of you whisper in the dark and laugh over nothing important.

He tells you stories of the demons he slayed, and you unconsciously lean even closer to hear them. He is powerful, and kind, and smart, its overwhelming that someone like him is next to you.

You see a hint of a smile in the darkness. “What are you thinking about?” 

“You are so cool Kyojuro.”

His body rumbles with a laugh, quieter than usual since its late and the house is silent. “You praise me too much.”

He leans closer, and the two of you are only a couple of inches apart now. “It’s true. Do you know what I give to be like someone like you?”

The face petting stops for a moment. “I don’t like that idea. It’s too dangerous out there for you. I like the thought of coming home to you, with fresh goods in your hands. Safe and away from any threats”

Your face heats up at the words. He makes it sound so romantic, and to be honest, you don’t mind the idea. But your brother should be home any day now. “I can’t live with you. You know this.”

He hums at you. “What if I told you I have fallen for you?” He murmurs, his voice low and soft. His calloused fingers return to tracing your face.

Your heartbeat picks up, and he must have noticed, because he chuckles lightly. “You like me?” You say, eyes wide, wishing desperately to see his face better in this moment.

“Is that outlandish?”

You look away, instead focusing on the shadows of your fingers. “Well…I don’t know. I’m just surprised.”

“I thought my intentions were clear. Please forgive me, if I confused you.”

It made sense that he was pursuing you. All the stares and the adoring touches. You just didn’t want to think of the possibility of someone as amazing as him liking you. Didn’t want to think of the fact the two of you won’t work out. “No, you didn't, it's fine. I actually like you too…But you are leaving.”

“Come with me. Live with me. I will treat you well. We can be happy together.”

At this point, the two of you were going in circles. You have had this conversation multiple times, and still, he doesn’t seem adamant about giving up. “I won’t leave my brother alone.”

He rolls himself on top of you, most likely annoyed that you weren’t looking at him anymore. He rests his body on his forearm, and his hair brushes your face. His voice is in a hoarse whisper. “You are too kind, Y/N. Think about yourself for once.”

You try your best to ignore the position. His body seems to engulf your own, and it makes you feel unreasonably small, but you’re unwilling to back down. “You know I can't do that. You know what it is like to have a sibling.”

His eyes become wider, and more desperate looking. You can’t meet his stare. “What if he was gone? You would come with me, right?”

Your head snaps back to him, and you look at him in shock. “Why would you say something like that?” You seem to hiss out.

At your tone, he becomes meeker, as if he was hiding into himself. He rubs his forehead against yours, with a hint of a whine in his throat. “Do you even like me?”

You immediately regret what you said, and instead begin to grow concerned. You have never seen him sound so upset before. “I do. I promise I do!”

His head falls into your neck, and his body begins to tremble. “You're causing me so much pain, my flame,” he whines and you begin to internally freak out.

Rengoku was never one to get his emotions involved. He was always upbeat with you, and the fact that he was so hurt over this must mean something big to him.

You place your hand on the back of his head, to try to get him to calm down. He was your idol, and now crush, you didn’t want to see him hurt, but you love your brother.

“If my brother found somewhere to live and be happy with, I would go with you. But he isn’t looking for a wife currently. So, I can't. I would love to, but I can't. I’m sorry, Kyo.”

In a heartbeat, his mood switches. He pulls his head out of your neck and begins grinning from above you. He rubs his nose onto yours, and you on instinct scrunch it up in surprise. “You want to. That's all I need. You want to live with me. Thank you. Thank you, so much!”

He rolls the two of you over so now the both of you are on your cot, with your head on his chest. You smile lightly at him, glad whatever you said finally made him calm down. 

His non-dominant hand rests on the back of your head, and you blush, finally taking in a new position. His body expels warmth, and you find comfort in it. 

Savorying the last amount of time you have with him to the fullest. It’s getting harder to ignore the ache in your chest whenever you think about him leaving.

Slumber begins to take a hold of you, and you listen to the rhythmic sound of the man’s heartbeat.

A couple of minutes go by, and you hear a whisper near your ear. “My flame?”

You hum and try to hold back a smile. “I like the nickname.” 

He chuckles, and your body shakes from the force of it. “Me too. But Y/N, make sure you come back to me. Always. Do you understand?”

You yawn, in your half-sleep state, but mumble out a, “Okay.”

He sighs, and he continues to pet your hair affectionately. “Good. Goodnight. Sleep well, Y/N. Tomorrow is going to be an eventful day.”

But you couldnt hear his warning. You had already fallen asleep the second after you agreed to his strange request.

You are awoken at 2:50 AM the next day by frantic whispers and aggressive shaking to your body. You blink a couple of times and flinch at the harsh light in your face.

Your pupils begin to constrict to the light, and your eyes scan the figure in front of you. Your brother was shaking you awake, with panicked eyes and a lantern in his hands. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to leave!”

He drags you from the cot, and you stumble forward. Your mind finally begins to awake, and you regain consciousness of the situation at hand. “Brother? What’s happening? Are you okay?”

He grabs your hand and pulls you through the small house, scrambling through cupboards looking for something. When he pulls out your father’s sword, you gulp.

He heads back over to you and begins to drag you away. “Didn’t you get the letter? You are supposed to be heading east by now!”

“What’s happening?” You reason again, voice louder and more panicked. He turns to you, and you jump at his appearance, finally able to see him clearly. His hair is a mess, he’s slightly trembling, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days. 

He grabs onto your both shoulders, and his voice coming out frantic. “A demon. Or maybe multiple. I got messages that people have been disappearing from towns, and some of their….remains have been scattered around villages. It’s traveling from village to village, and yesterday it hit the town where we get our goods. Five innocents are gone and our village should be next. Tonight.”

You stare at him, eyes wide in shock. “Why are you here? You shouldn't have come!”

“I was going to grab fathers sword. We need some sort of protection while we wait until the demon slayer’s corpse comes.” He doesn’t know how to use it, he's a healer, and neither do you, but it was better than nothing. Especially if the two of you were without a home until everything clears up. 

“Grab your knife. Everything going to be okay. Just trust me. Everything is going to be fine,” He mumbles, seemingly trying to comfort himself more than you. He begins to drag you toward the door and you begin to reach in your pocket for your father’s knife.

It wasnt there. You lost it when you cut Rengoku.

Your eyes widen when you finally realize his disappearance. You turn around and quickly scan the room before your brother pulls you completely outside. 

“Kyo-” A hand covers your mouth immediately.

Your brother looks at you in pure fear, and you feel your own bubbling up at his gaze. “Quiet. We have to be as silent as we can. It could be near,” He whispers at you, and you nod from behind his hand. 

Your eyes dart around the area for the demon slayer. But he is nowhere to be found. He’s probably out looking for it by now. 

But he’s injured. Is it really okay for him to be fighting in his state?

Your brother removes his hand from your mouth and begins to drag you forward, a sword in one hand and your hand in the other. You gulp and follow him in the darkness.

A couple of minutes go by and the two of you haven’t said a word. The both of you had heard eerie noises, and you swear you heard a woman’s scream far off in the distance.

Your mind flashes back to all of the villagers you have gotten close to. It was better not to think about it. Rengoku should be there soon.

The two of you took the path into the woods. It was not the normal path to take when heading eastward, but it was safer. You both knew the woods well, and the chances are the demon is raiding the village. That’s what they have targeted the last couple of days at least.

Suddenly, you hear a growl to the right of you guys. Your brother freezes, and you run into the back of him. Your heartbeat picks up, and the hair on your neck rises. Your brother is trembling in front of you.

You turn to noise to see three bright yellow eyes staring at the two of you. A deathly aura creeps on the two of you, and it’s pin-drop silent.

Your brother grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you forward yelling out, “Run!”

As on instinct, you turn back to him to pull him with you, but he’s gone. As if he vanished into thin air. The eyes disappeared as well.

A mass amount of dread and fear weighs on top of you, as you begin frantically scanning the woods. Your heartbeat is pounding in your chest and you’re shaking out of your wits. “Brother? Brother, where are you!”

Tears begin to form in your waterline, and you begin running, searching desperately for any trace of him. In the back of your mind you know your not going to be able to do anything, but it doesn’t stop you from trying.

You wish Rengoku was here. He would be able to find your brother in a heartbeat, but he was most likely in the village. Where the demon should have been. But it doesn’t stop you from calling his name desperately for help.

Which is exactly how you attracted your very own demon. Your brother told you to be quiet, and you should have listened better. Fear made you naive.

It was standing in front of you, its eyes seemingly pinning you down. It was smiling at you, showing off its razor-sharp teeth, and you take a step back. You were trembling, alone, and defenseless against the demon.

“What’s a young girl like you doing out here alone?” The voice was high in pitch and shrill. A step toward you.

You don't respond, eyes darting around for an exit, while the demon continues to laugh and move forward, closer toward you.

You turn around and run. You dont have many choices in this situation and you rather take a chance than be a sitting duck.

It didn’t work, but you knew it wouldn’t. The demon grabs at your leg and pulls you back toward him. You fall forward onto the ground and hiss at the feeling of rock digging into your skin. You are being pulled backward, and the clawed hand on your ankle makes you shiver.

“I think I will take my time with you,” The being coos, licking a stripe up the back of your leg. 

Tears stream down your cheek as try to kick it off, to no avail. It’s going to tear your limps apart and eat you. Your brother is not going to be saved, and your family line is going to end.

With your last plea, you begin to scream. Loud enough to most likely alert every living being in the forest. Even the demon hisses out in annoyance.

Suddenly, there is a flash of orange and red. A flame.

You hear the plop of a sliced head a second later, and the slicing sound of the demon’s arm being physically removed from your leg. You cringe at the sound, but relief immediately floods your veins.

You turn your head to the side to see Rengoku, slightly frowning in concentration while he sheathes his sword. When he catches your eye, he smiles, and the comforting action makes the tears continue to flow.

He's holding you in an instant, crouched on one knee while wrapping his arms around your figure. His eyes are wide with slight panic, and his grip on you is tight. In any other situations, it may have been overbearing, but you craved the warmth.

His voice is hoarse and seemed to have a waver in it. “I was so scared, my flame when I couldn't find you. I thought you really left me. Or something worse had happened to you. The thought makes me feel ill. Tell me, why were you in the woods? You weren't supposed to be in the woods!”

You take a couple of deep breaths to calm yourself down, while he runs his hands up and down your body as if reassuring himself that you are actually there. “We were trying to–” You freeze, eyes widening and immediately squirming in his grasp. “My brother. We have to find my brother! A demon has him!”

His hold on you doesn’t let go, and your movement is futile. He stares into the distance as if almost entranced by something. He doesn’t say anything for a long second, but when he does, his voice seems to be in a whisper. “Does it now?” 

You don’t pay attention to the tone, too distracted by the thought of your brother being on the verge of death. “Yes! So we have to go. Kyo, we don't have time!”

He hums, and the grip on you loosens, allowing you to stand up, and away from him. He stands in front of you, calm and composed while staring at you. You, on the other hand, are scanning the woods frantically trying to figure out where the demon is and failing miserably.

“Let’s go this way,” You say with uncertainty, pointing to the direction where you had last seen him. When you take a step forward, a hand grips your wrist, and you make eye contact with his owl-like eyes.

“You will stay. I will find him for you. It’s too dangerous for you.” The statement is unwavering as if it was a command to you, with no room for question.

“But-”

“Don't be afraid, my flame. I will place you in a tree, safe and hidden from harm.” He didn’t understand that you did not care for your own safety, it was your brother that you were concentrated with.

You turn to him with pleading eyes. The idea of you sitting here while your brother could be getting murdered, makes you feel sick. You need to be there for him the second Rengoku saves him. “Please, I won't get in the way! I can help, please just don’t leave me behind.”

His eyes widen at the statement, and he grips onto your shoulders with both hands. “I would never leave you behind. Never in a thousand years. But I am not the type of person to put the one I care about in danger. You will sit on a branch until I grab you. Safe from harm.”

He scoops you up with ease, and you jump with slight surprise. Then, he walks over to the nearest tree. “Please?” You plead for the last time, and he smiles at you.

“Everything will be fine, my love. After tonight, everything will be perfect. Just let me do this.” He murmurs and you sigh, and allow him to do whatever must be done. 

He walks up to the nearest tree and eyes it, before making a small huffing sound. Then he holds you in one arm and jumps. Way higher than a normal man would be able to you, and your eyes widen in shock.

He grabs onto a branch and pulls the two of you up, while you continue to stare at the fact that he is doing this effortlessly with one hand. He sets you down onto the branch, with your back leaning on the trunk for support.

You glance down and gulp. It was way higher than you expected, but Rengoku didn’t seem to notice it. He is balanced on the branch with ease and instead is focused solely on you. “You will be okay, do not fret. If anything goes amiss, shout for me and I will come running.”

You nod your head and he smiles softly. He begins to turn around but pauses when you grip his kimono. “You will save him right?”

He blinks at you and sightly frowns. “Everything will be alright.”

You believed him.

You were an idiot. An idiot for believing him. An idiot for jumping out of the tree in the first place.

Not long after Rengoku left you, you heard your brothers scream.

You acted on pure instinct. You moved within a second, trying to climb down the tree. The Hashira made it seem easier than it was to maneuver on the tree. You slipped and fell. 

You hissed when you landed on the floor. Very much close to breaking your legs, but you got lucky. You stand up and try to ignore the pain shooting up your spine. Then, you turn toward where you heard the noise.

It was during your sprint you realized you made a mistake. What were you going to do against a demon? How are you going to help your brother? He was the one medically trained, not you. Aren’t you just going to make things worse? You could be killed too.

But you were too deep in it now. Tree trunks turn into a blur as you continue to run, your legs throbbing with every step. 

You notice a figure and stop immediately. When you catch your breath and notice who it is, you cover your mouth. Your father’s sword lays next to the curled-up body. There was so much blood, he was barely recognizable. 

But you couldn't keep your eyes trained on your loved one. Crouching above him was a demon, chewing. 

Nausea hits you like a train and you’re forced to take a step back. You dont have it in you to scream for help. Would Rengoku even get here in time?

Where is he? What was he doing all this time? He told you everything is going to be fine, why is your brother laying in a pool of his own blood?

You continue to stare, the fear making you immobile. You take in the demon. It was strange, nothing like the one you had last saw. It was trembling before the body, as if afraid of something. It’s letting out disgusting wavering whines and cries, between each bite. 

Your thoughts are cut short. 

A shiver runs up your spine, and you freeze. You see the hair on your arms begin to raise, and your breath catches. Your eyes flicker back to the body, and the demon hasn’t moved. 

A nail as sharp as a dagger, trails its way up your arm, and you begin to tremble. You feel the power the demon emits, and it is different from the one before. 

You shouldn't have moved. You shouldn't have left the tree.

You hear the horrific noise before you can feel it. Your eyes flicker to the space right above your hip, to see the long fingernail peering out. Through you. And in an instant, you hear the squelching noise, and the finger is gone. 

Like a dog lapping a bone, you hear the demon lick its finger clean and shiver.

You hear frantic, nervous mumbles behind you. “Just a taste is fine. It’s alright if I have just a taste. I didn’t kill her, just wanted to try it…”  The being that made your skin crawl, sounded absolutely petrified. You didn’t know of what, and you didn’t want to find out. 

But, you didn’t have time to ponder. Your kimono is turning a deep red, and you feel the blood beginning to drip down to your legs. You fall to your knees with wide eyes, not knowing what to do. If you don’t wrap it, you are sure to bleed out within minutes.

The demon behind you panics, frantically telling himself that you aren’t going to die and everything is fine. But you’ve tuned it out.

You look up toward your brother again and freeze. Just a couple feet to the right of the two figures was a man leaning against a tree. The fiery hair that you could pinpoint in a crowd makes him recognizable in less than a second.

Rengoku was watching your brother get devoured with a blank stare.

The loss of blood had to make you see things. Or maybe it was the fear. Something had to be wrong with you. He would never do such a thing.

You clutch at your side with your hand. “Kyo?” You mumble, and his head snaps toward you, somehow hearing the call. He removes himself from the tree in an instant, and he stares at you with wide frantic eyes. You’ve never seen him look so petrified. 

In a blink of the eyes, and a flash of a flame you hear the demon behind you getting beheaded. “She isn’t dead! You promised! I was–” Another slicing sound and silence.

He’s by your side in the next second. He’s tearing off his kimono in an instant. “What are you doing here? Y/N, you're not supposed to be here! Fuck, the bleeding.” He’s tearing apart the cloth with his teeth, and wrapping it around your torso. You don't notice the shaking of his hands.

You feel dizzy and weak, from the mix of the bleeding out and all the other beatings you sustained. You can’t focus on his words, you are staring at your brother.

You miss the panic of his words. The way he trembles in front of you. “It's going to be okay. Don’t worry, I will take care of everything. It'll be okay.”

The demon has scrambled off, and it was just his mutilated body left behind and the sword. Tears well up in your eyes, and your brother’s now lifeless eyes stare into yours. 

You point to him and Rengoku follows your finger. Your words are soft, broken. “Help him. Please.”

But he ignores you. You're being lifted again, the callused hand putting a decent amount of pressure on the wound. He leads you back to your house, while your left staring at the body left in the grass. 

You're exhausted, you can't fight him. For the last time, you plead, “Help him.” before closing your eyes and slumping against his body. 

“It's going to be alright, my flame. I won't let anything happen to you. I will protect you now.”

[angelkissiies]

tiny surprises

abby anderson x reader

cw : threesome , owen , best friends turned lesbians , probably so much more.

wc : 3.1K

a / n : HAPPY OWEN SLANDER SUNDAY ANGELS ,, ENJOY !

“You came.” Abby breathed, hovering in front of the door, her muscled form blocking all view of the inside. Her eyes were soaking you in, from the tiny shorts to the large black t-shirt she recognized as one of her own, the sight alone was enough to make her want to jump your bones right here right now. 

You nodded, face heating up from the weight in her stare, shifting on your heels as you clutched your bag in front of you. “Of course,” You hummed, tongue darting out to moisten your lips. It was no secret that the two of you had something else going on, though neither of you’d ever acted on it, that was until now. It seemed like a joke at first, the idea of Owen proposing a threesome with a girl he KNEW his girlfriend wanted to fuck, but alas it was true– him going as far as to offer to do it at your place. You vehemently denied, wanting to keep the essence of him away from your place. “Why wouldn’t I?’ 

A smirk pulled at the lips of the blonde, opening the door wider to allow you to come in, never letting her gaze falter– eating up every glimpse she could get of the lace outline underneath your clothes. Right now, she felt no better than a man. “Owen,” She called out behind you as you pushed into the apartment, letting the door click closed before sliding the lock back in place. “She’s here.”

The sound of his name made you shift uncomfortably, considering the fact that you’d only ever slept with women up to this point– this was going to be the first time you’d even seen a man, let alone sleep with one. Owen wasn’t the worst-looking guy, having seen infected for so long you’d grown to normalize weird-looking things, so you were hoping this experience wouldn’t be the worst– which there's no way it would be a total loss, seeing as Abby was there. “You look really, uh, nice.” You managed, watching her pass you, her body clad in a tight black sports bra and matching gym shorts– a combination you’d seen many times before. 

Owen popped into the room before she had a chance to respond, his hair wet and clothes completely gone. A white towel was wrapped around his waist, shielding your eyes from his naked body. He had a goofy smile on his face, looking between Abby and yourself. “Hey,” He began, sitting on the edge of their shared bed, beckoning the two of you to come down the stairs. 

Abby took your hand, leading you down to the bed– grabbing your bag to sit aside for you. “You can back out at any time, there will be absolutely no hard feelings, okay?” She hummed, eyes coming level with your own as she took a seat on the bed, next to him. “Do you have a safeword?” 

You came to stand between her legs, her hands drawing you in, nodding slowly. “It’s mercy,” You glanced between the two of them, making sure they could both hear you. “What about you guys? Safewords or just anything I should know before we get started?” The last thing you wanted was for this to go so wrong that someone got hurt, something you’d heard horror stories from Manny about. 

“Safewords, no. We don’t use those.” He spoke, chuckling lightly, before continuing. “And we have a dynamic usually–,” 

The blonde raised her hand to him, shaking her head, the other hand wandering down the expanse of your lower back. “Let’s just.. see how this turns out, okay?” She offered up, coming to toy with the waistband of your shorts, her eyes lapping hungrily at the quiver that had entered your legs. “Go with it and see how it feels.” If she hadn’t been wet before, the harsh contrast of your bodies sent a gush of arousal into her cunt, making her unconsciously clench her thighs together. 

Owen gave her a sharp look, which she promptly ignored, making him huff lightly. He shifted on the bed, using his hands to block the growing erection he’d begun to develop. He’d be lying if he said the way Abby was touching you wasn’t turning him on, her massive hands coming to drag down your body. 

Abby looked up at you, taking in the eager look in your eyes before she came to a stop at the soft curve of your hips. “Tell me you want this.” She spoke, voice heavy, fingers digging into the t-shirt. Your comfort was her biggest concern, glossing over the pulsing in her cunt at the thought of touching you. 

“I want y-,” You stopped yourself, correcting yourself. “This. I want this.” 

Her hands pulled you down onto her lap, legs settling on either side of her muscled thighs, lips chasing yours. It was like a fire had been lit beneath her, the soft contrast of your skin driving her insane– she just needed to touch you, as long as she possibly could. It was a side of the woman that Owen had never seen, watching in awe as you whined into her mouth, hand moving to palm himself through the fluffy fabric of the towel.  

“Shit..” The man hissed, moving his other hand to rest on your thigh, inching closer to the subtle wetness that pooled in your lacy panties. You were still fully clothed, much to his dismay, but that didn’t stop his advances– that was until Abby caught his hand. 

Her heavy gaze fell on him, silently scolding him, before pushing his hand off of you. “Consent, Owen. Did she say yes to you?” She rasped, tilting her head slightly, hand moving to rub the area he had touched gingerly. “Ask her first.” 

Owen rolled his eyes, tearing his gaze from hers with flushing cheeks. “Can I?” He asked, obviously annoyed at the obstruction, his eyes coming to meet your blown ones– gulping at the reaction Abby seemed to draw from you. He felt almost envious, wanting to be the reason you looked like that, but he settled with this for now. “I promise I'll be gentle, baby.”

You took a shaky breath, giving him a small nod, you weren’t excited about the idea of him touching you before Abby had a chance to– but you shook those feelings off, looking back up to the mess of a girl in front of you. You could feel his hand snaking over hers, cupping the clothed wetness of your cunt, making you shudder slightly. 

Abby watched your face, tongue darting out to wet her lips before she leaned forward to press open-mouthed kisses to the edge of your jaw, her hot breath sending a shiver down your spine. “You have no idea how long I've wanted this.” She hummed, just for you to hear as she hovered near your ear. “Wanted you this whole time.” 

You felt his fingers slip past the soft material of your shorts before he pushed further, pushing your panties to the side. You gasped slightly, tempted to move away with how roughly he pushed his fingers against your cunt– using two fingers to rub your labia. “O-oh,” You forced out, pushing your face into the crook of Abby’s neck. “Shit..” You were almost about to laugh, feeling his fingers pick up speed– giving you the equivalent of carpet burn on your poor cunt. 

You felt the girl beneath you’s chest shake lightly with a couple snickers, hiding the noise in the tuft of hair that had fallen in her face. She moved her hand to the hem of your shirt, pushing the fabric up to expose the delicate lace of your bra, her fingers grazing over the erect buds poking through the thin material. “Such a pretty girl.” She tutted, pulling the bra down to expose your breasts, sighing contently at the sight. 

Owen halted his movements, using his middle finger to part your folds, feeling around the perimeter of your slit. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He groaned, dipping his hand under his towel to grip his erection– pumping himself greedily before pushing into your cunt. “Abby, your friend is so hot.” 

You burned bright red at the comment, tensing your stomach at the intrusion, trying to loosen up. His fingers were dry, adding undesirable friction to the soft walls of your cunt, but it didn’t seem to phase him– his fingers pushing until they were knuckle deep. A small noise of pain left your mouth as you pushed your face deeper into the skin of the girl's neck, trying to muffle yourself. “Mmh.” You hummed, feeling his hand drag your free one from Abby to himself. He pushed your hand under the towel, your curious fingers landing on the erection he’d been hiding the whole time. 

A sharp gasp left your mouth, causing Abby to whip her head up to see what had happened. Your eyes connected as you jerked your hand away, trying to conceal the laugh that bubbled in your chest at the feeling of his dick. It was beyond what you expected, in the worst way possible, the appendage only being about four inches– hard. 

Owen roughly yanked his fingers from inside you, grimacing at the wetness, standing up quickly to grab his shorts. “You fucking cunt.” He hissed, stomping around the room as he found his clothes. “And you!” He huffed, pointing at Abby. “I can’t freaking believe you, we're so done.” A choked whine left his mouth as he stared at the girl, awaiting her to try to stop him or something.. anything. 

Abby raised an eyebrow, looking over at you, before infectious laughter spilled from her lips– filling the room, much to Owen’s dismay. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, tears of pure joy welling in her eyes. She’d spent so long sucking up to the man, that it just snapped, the truth of him and his short dick finally coming to light. It was autopilot with him, a familiar comfort of her past when all she really wanted was you. Now, she could finally have you– no longer hostage to the man bursting out of the room with tears in his eyes. 

You bit back a laugh, hands coming up to cup her face. “That was soo hot.” You teased, referring to the previous entanglement with Owen, exaggerating your words. “You sure you don’t wanna chase that sex god?” The words dripped with sarcasm, making her roll her eyes at you as she caught her breath, the door slamming loudly. That was something you’d have to explain to Issac later, not that it mattered now. 

She paused for a moment as if to think, before switching the two of you around– your body now pressed firmly to the mattress. She hovered over you, an old firefly dog tag dangling from her neck, dipping down to press a hungry kiss to your lips. “Fuck no,” She chuckled, nails skimming over your clothed stomach– itching to rid you of your clothes. “I have all I need right here.” Her mouth moved down your neck, leaving a trail of spit from your jaw to the sweet spot just below your pulse point– where she stopped only to suck a dark mark onto the sinfully soft flesh. 

“I just came here for you.” You gasped out, the words breaking as you felt her teeth dig into your flesh– biting at your neck. “Only you, Abby.” 

Abby could’ve cum from that statement alone, her hands latching to the hem of your shirt. “Sit up for me, okay, real quick.” Her words were airy, desperate as she craved the warmth of your skin on hers. “Need to touch you.” The draw of her fingers against your skin lit an ache in your cunt, an ache, unlike the one Owen caused. 

You allowed her to strip you of your top, your own hands moving to push your shorts down your legs, kicking them off into the floor. “You meant what you said. Really meant it?” You spoke, shivering in the now cold room, the sun beginning to fall below the horizon. You wanted nothing more than to have her, in every way possible, but something nagged you– begging you to be sure that this was real. 

The blonde nodded, holding her pinky out to you as she held herself up with one hand, eyes dancing over the blissed expression on your face. “I promise you, I mean every word.” Her voice was thick, breath coming out in puffs. “I’ve been waiting for you.” She meant it, every sleepless night being filled with visions of you– despite how guilty it made her. She’d never needed someone quite like she needed you, and yes, she knew that you felt the same way but that didn’t help her in shaking off the man who’d begged to stay together the past couple of years. She was free. Free to indulge in the girl she’d dedicated all of her wet dreams to. 

“No more waiting.” You ignored the pinky, hands latching to the straps of her sports bra– dragging her down to meet your lips. You couldn’t help yourself anymore, the need taking over, hips bucking into her thigh as you urged her to touch you. The self-respect you’d developed over the years crumbled, leaving you a trembling mess as your body begged for her touch, cunt soaking through the thin fabric of your panties. 

She groaned into your mouth, hand coming down to cup the clothed warmth of your cunt, a thick finger coming to trace the small bundle of nerves just beneath the lace. “You’re gonna forget that he ever touched you, I fucking promise.” She whispered, pressing a kiss to the edge of your lips as she pushed her hand under the waistband of your panties, slowly moving to massage the nub. Her hot breath fanned over your neck, making you shudder before she began pressing open-mouthed kisses to the welcoming flesh. 

A whimper left your mouth, tilting your hips up to meet her eager fingers, lips falling open as you felt the pleasure course through your body– her touch gentle as she felt her way around your body. You’d never been touched like this by her, yet, she seemed to know you better than you knew yourself. Her fingers moved with precision, the bumble being victim to her abuse. “F-fuck, Abby–,” You moaned, her name falling from your lips like a prayer, walls clenching around nothing. 

Abby let her fingers slip lower, gently rubbing over your drooling cunt, gathering your slick onto her fingers. It was obscene, the noise she released at the feeling of your puffy slit, her middle finger pushing in gently. Your walls body welcomed her, soaking her finger in wetness as she tested the waters– pulling it out before slowly sliding it back in, feeling the way you clenched around her desperately. “Relax for me, pretty girl.” She breathed, eyes locked onto your scrunched face– her free hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Look at me.”

Your eyes fluttered open, your stomach contracting as you felt her push back into your cunt, the sensation making you jerk your hips toward her. You let your lust-blown eyes land on her, seeing the desperation in her brow. “Need you, Abs. Need you so bad.” You whined, hand coming to grasp at her wrist– trying to grind against the mound of her hand. 

Her ring finger lingered at your slit for a moment before joining her middle, two fingers burying themselves in your heat. “I know, I know.” She nodded, chewing on her lip slightly as she began thrusting the thick digits in and out of your drooling cunt– pornographic wet noises filling the room as she drove them deeper than you’d ever felt someone go. “Good girl.” 

The noises made heat creep up your neck, embarrassing yourself with how wet you’d managed to get for your best friend. You were pathetically hers, whether you were ready to admit it or not. You both already knew, with the way you cried for her fingers, there was nobody else to make her feel so cunt drunk– the noises falling from your lips enough to make her soak through her boxers. “Please, fuck, fuck.” You hissed, fighting against the growing tightness in your stomach. You didn’t want the feeling to end, her digits filling you up in the most delicious way, but you couldn’t help the pulsing in your walls in response to her fingers curling in and out of your sensitive cunt. 

Abby picked up her pace, chasing your orgasm, her free hand moving to pull the fabric of your bra down– exposing your breasts to the harsh air. “We have all night, pretty.” She reminded, making your hips release some tension, realizing you could continue for as long as the two of you wanted. No interruptions. Her head dipped down to your chest, taking one of the erect buds in her mouth, using her teeth to pull gently. 

A squeaky moan left your mouth, back arching slightly, legs beginning to tremble under the pressure. Oh god, oh god, oh god. It was chanted like a prayer, the growing tightness making your hips retract from her– though that didn’t last long, her free hand moving to hold your hips in place, leaving you to submit to the slamming of her fingers in and out of your cunt. It was all so much, your thoughts blurring at the mind-numbing pleasure coursing through your body, heavy moans spilling from your parted lips as your walls contracted around her– the sudden euphoria washing over you, soaking her hand in a gush of liquid. 

“Oh goddamn.” 

The bed beneath the two of you was drenched in liquid, making you whine in embarrassment. “M’sorry, fuck-,” You began, moving a hand to cover your face before Abby grabbed your wrist– pulling it down to rest by your side, promptly cutting you off. 

She shook her head at you, a blissed-out smile on her lips as she dipped down to kiss you, now with a softness reserved for you. “Never apologize, that was hot as fuck.” She chuckled, her fingers slowly inching out of your swollen cunt, wiping them off on her now sweaty gym shorts. “I can’t fucking believe it took me this long to do this, I don’t think I’m ever gonna be able to stop.” She admitted, lifting herself off of you to grab some things to make you more comfortable. 

You followed her movements, body still trembling as you met her at the edge of the bed, looking up at her as she grabbed for your bag– digging through it for new clothes. “Does this mean–?” You trailed off, eyes hovering on her veiny forearms for a moment before meeting her eyes. 

“I’m yours,” Abby stated, simply, sitting your bag down– deciding to grab you some of hers instead. “You’re mine.”

“Swear?”

“Swear.” 

[jhuzen]

could u write kaveh diluc or kaeya with an obsessive m reader? like yandere type (or just obsessive whatever u want) I love the way u write them ur my fav blog

following elysium [m.reader]

maaaaan i haven’t written anything yandere in a good while now. but i can’t say i don’t miss it. this takes me back to my obsession with yandere character arc (*coughs in yan asogi that i still obsess over in my drafts*) so this request will let me know if i’ve lost my touch. also, why pick between three when you can have all lolololll

𖦹 dark themes, yandere male reader (ranging from manipulative, to overprotective, to soft), manipulation everywhere (like a lot, i swear i’m not good at it irl or am i jkjk), obsessive themes, some mentions and allusions of death, some isolation, scare tactics, love bombing

𐂂 obsession is a lethal poison, and yet you’ve survived a gallon of doses.

Kaveh

Your sweet naïve little Kaveh was quite the adorable one, always so considerate, so willing to please and so eager to do what he can in order to satisfy you, a mere admiring client of his. A man that he knew that personally sought him out to the ends of Sumeru just to meet him and commission him. Just because for some reason, you had heard of him from the outskirts of this vast nation.

Oh truly what an honor it is.

If only he knew it took one smile from him and a small greeting from exactly just a year ago when he officially met you, that sent you spiraling into a mad obsession that longed to pursue him; if only he insisted to look inside the office you’ve kept him off of, he would have seen the altar that could rival any other archons out there; if only he had a lick of awareness in him, he would’ve seen that your devilishly charming smiles were indeed the work of something far more sinister.

Alas, he was your sweet little architect, unaware of your leering stares, gazes so predatory it could leave any prey scampering off, ready to pounce at him and just break him.

But you are a man of class, you knew your way around people’s hearts, and Kaveh’s weakness was the positive feedback he gets from his clients. He’s helping out of the goodness of his heart, after all, mora is not so much of an issue (to the point of him even incurring a debt), and he was even just as generous with you, refusing the pounds of mora that you were willing to lay at his feet (though you send him away with heaps still).

And as your gaze flitted from the blueprints of your master’s bedroom renovation to the man currently in charge of it, a small smile wormed its way to your face. Truly your esteemed genius architect is a lovely one, how lucky were you that you met him on that particular day.

“Hm… I don’t think with the way we’ve recently renovated your hallways, your bedroom pans out at all,” his bottom lip stuck out into an adorable pout, and it took every cell in your body to control the maddening urge to kiss them, to bite them until you even get a taste of him.

“Is that so?” You casually leaned over, drawing yourself nearer than normal. And heaven swallowed you whole when you got a whiff of that familiar honey scented shampoo that Kaveh often used (you’ve made a note of buying more in stock once you’ve enacted the final steps in your little plan).

However, even that lovely scent wasn’t enough to keep your attention away from the way Kaveh stiffened, from the way his grip around the parchment of your blueprint significantly tightened to the point of ripping it apart, from the way his breath hitched.

“I— A-Ah! Um! Yes—!”

From the way his voice cracked — those red eyes peered up at you — to the way those gazes of his became increasingly fonder and more frenzied, much like yours, but less subtle. Kaveh was always bad at hiding how he truly feels, and it made it easier for you to trap him in your little cage, to snip away his wings until he’s fully tied down to you.

You tilted your head, cocking an eyebrow as you put him in his place, rendering him almost speechless when he briskly turned back to the blueprint, wide-eyed and flustered. How adorable.

“Well, I trust that you know how our transactions are, my dear,” your tone was suave and smooth, practiced to perfection, and the same way with your movements that were calculated for precision, ensnaring your poor unsuspecting Kaveh. You took a lock of his hair in your hand, twirling it around as you attempted to find his averted gaze. “Go all out. Mora is not an issue.”

Kaveh’s head stuttered as he nodded, his trembling hands barely able to release the poor blueprint from his vice grip. He somehow didn’t know why, but there were recent changes about you in the few and far between times that he sees you for your personal consultation. Kaveh thought it sweet really, that you would go out of your way to contact a grand and comfortable enough transportation to take him to your home instead of making him walk a hundred miles just to do so (despite his initial insistence to do it instead).

You were the first client that has been so generous with praises and mora when it comes to your payment, and while the architect can afford to be modest about accepting your financial payment, even he couldn’t hide the metaphorical wagging of his tail should you even grace him one compliment for his efforts. Don’t get him wrong though, he knows he’s good, how else could he have graduated with honors if not?

Nevertheless, your approval was something Kaveh continuously sought, until every letter of commission you sent him suddenly had him mistaking it for a letter of something more… intimate, something that held a rather romantic connotation.

He took your kindness for something more, unknowing of your ulterior motives, blissfully unaware about the obsession that gets you high, and absolutely clueless about the fact that ten of your men — the ones that greeted him so jovially as they gave him a ride to your grand home — had their eyes on his every move on the days he would be off back home, acting as your eyes, all perfectly ready to execute someone should they harm a hair on his head.

Thoughts of you became even more intrusive the more he met with you, Kaveh found you addicting, and he even felt ashamed of the fact that he did so. You’re his client! He shouldn’t be so emotionally involved in the first place. He was there to do his job that you commissioned him for.

But a moment of clarity soon encompassed him when he realized that he has previous engagements to this. That he shouldn’t be staying the night at your home once more to work on renovating your bedroom.

“Ah… I just remembered…” Kaveh’s frown was unmistakable, and suddenly the feeling of eagerness of him meeting up with his friends at the usual tavern was replaced with blatant hesitance at the thought of leaving you. But he quickly shook it off, turning back to you, “Hey… I hope you don’t mind if I can postpone our work for now…”

Where did you get that wine?

Your gaze lifted from the swirling burgundy in your glass, “Oh? How come? Need some inspiration?”

“I just remembered I promised to meet with my friends tonight. It’s only once a month.”

Your lips almost turned down into a disdainful scowl but opted for a small, reserved disappointed frown, “Ah. I see. How disappointing that is,” you murmured, but it was enough for Kaveh to hear. Deceitfully disheartened, like practiced and the way Kaveh’s eyebrows furrowed in concern was enough of a reaction.

“It wouldn’t be for too long though! I’ll be back tomorrow!” The hesitation crept up on him and it showed in the tone of his voice. Desperation soon followed when his body turned to face yours, a sign of vulnerability and submission in this situation. “It’s not… it’s not as if I’m leaving or anything.”

You heaved a sigh, “But that would be too much on you, making you come all the way back and even after spending some time with your friends too.” You can only thank the lucky stars that you were a son of a theatre actor from Fontaine, it sure came in handy.

“No, I can definitely make it! You’re my best client, I can’t afford to—”

Kaveh’s frantic saving was quickly interrupted when you decided to go in for the kill, “Like I said, I don’t wish to run you ragged… and my family will come and visit soon.” You snapped your fingers, looking at Kaveh with feigned curiosity, “Ah, yes. Might you know any other capable architects? Surely I can’t expect the same work like yours, but someone who would not disappoint would be enough.”

His red eyes immediately went wide, completely baffled at your suggestion. You were willing to replace him? Just like that?

“I…” Kaveh looked down, suddenly meek. “I don’t know anyone who can do that much,” he muttered despite knowing otherwise. He was kind to his fellow architects, but surely he can afford to be selfish about you just this once?

He failed to see the way your eyes shone with satisfaction, contrasting you disheartened tone, “Hm… pity that is…”

Well. Missing one night wouldn’t hurt, right?

Kaveh looked back up at you, “I… I suppose I can afford to just show up next time. We do these hangouts all the time anyway,” his words completely contrasted his claim of scarce meets earlier, but it was more than enough for you to know how quickly he gave in. “Ah, whatever. I’m sure those guys can handle themselves.”

“Are you certain?” You asked, tilting his head up with a hand on his chin, almost getting lost into those ruby reds of his. “I’d hate for you to miss such an important engagement.”

And before he knew it, he willingly embraced the shadows, engulfing every part of him, leaving none untouched. It swallowed him whole, like a limitless void, with no one left to even save him, forgetting anyone else but you and only you.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind staying with you.”

You tapped the rim of your glass on his lip, pouring that familiar wine in the small gap of his lips that you’ve graced him on the many nights he would stay to work on your home renovations. You watched with pure delight as Kaveh’s eyes grew hazy and unfocused — left with nothing but with the manipulated admiration for you.

“Good. Let’s enjoy the night, shall we?”

𐂂

Kaeya

The infamous Cavalry Captain has no one to blame but himself, really. Even as your superior, he knew no bounds when it comes to reserving himself. He always flaunted himself at you, like a fashionable bird that that preened its wings on the daily just to show off. He was flashy, mouthy, and unbearably attractive.

Being placed under him was hell for all the different reasons. You were constantly in his presence — and you had to shoulder the patience of the kindest archon in existence to resist anything remotely impulsive. You had to be near him in proximity, always around him, accompanying him from the most mundane errands to the most hectic missions.

And while Captain Kaeya was he shining beacon between you and him, you were the dark shadow that walked behind him. It wasn’t your fault, he asked you so himself.

“This guy’s going to shadow me, hope you have no objections to that, Acting Grandmaster,” was what you heard on that one fateful day, before finding your pristine uniform getting remotely crinkled as he dragged you away without breaking a sweat.

Since that day, no person in Monstadt can claim that they’ve seen Kaeya without you, or you without him. It was almost like fate, except it was a fate that forged a bond from the depths of abyss — a bond that embodied nothing but a push and pull relationship, the distance and proximity, the obsession and submission.

You had to watch him put himself out there, when you can just as easily drag that information from someone if you asked with a blade on their throat; that usually gets people talking. But he dismissed you easily, and let you stew in the cesspool of madness that his actions slowly created.

And you were none the wiser, you cleaned up the messes he made, you made sure to silence the people once they came into their senses that they’ve been bested by yet again the sniveling calvary captain of the order.

All of his commands, you obeyed without complaint.

And oddly enough, it brought you a sense of comfort. That he trusts you this much, that he’s willing to let you go rampant in exchange for his safety — one that you never failed on doing. All of it, to keep him safe.

Until recently, you found it inconvenient to let him off without a leash. Seeing him come home from an excursion with scratches that decorated his poor body — adding further into those battle scars that you’ve once had the displeasure of seeing when he asked you to aid him into wrapping himself with a handful of bandages — and it wasn’t the greatest sight. You fussed over him like a mother hen, never once letting him out of your sight.

You were rewarded with a grateful side-hug from the captain, and it was enough to fuel your mission in protecting him.

“Ah! Captain! Should I accompany you today?” You asked as you approached him with a blinding grin — in fact so blinding, he had to squint his one good eye. For a shadow, you sure are bright. Perhaps Kaeya was mistaken when he said you were going to be his behind-the-scenes guy.

Kaeya found you adorable, in all honesty. You had an exuberant energy within you that went unparalleled, and on days that he personally needed someone to pick him up when everything weighed down on him, it seemed like you almost had a sixth sense for it and was almost always by his side. Not that he minded — he was grateful above all else. And on days when the drunkard bard or Rosaria weren’t around to keep him company, he trusts that you have some reserved liquor in your home so he can drink away his problems and still be fine in his sleep.

If only he knew how hard you stared at him, obsessively looking him over while you slowly drowned in your fantasies — one of which him finally being chained to you, devoted and stuck waiting at home while you defend his honor without him having to harm himself in the process.

“There you are, missed me already?” He asked with a cheeky grin.

You did. You couldn’t sleep a wink, knowing that you weren’t around to protect him.

You scratched your head and laughed, “Aw, don’t be so mean captain. I only care about your wellbeing!”

“Hm~? How sweet… sure wouldn’t hurt to have you around every now and then.”

You have been. You prowled around his remote home, kicking stones and staring longingly in the window, ready to pounce at anyone who seemed vaguely threatening.

Kaeya thought how endearing you might be if you were to be his, but with the mission he carries on his back, he wonders if it’s even worth it having you, only to betray you in the end. He wonders if you can betray your own homeland for him.

You would, without question. You will lay a hundred corpses of the Order’s knights at his feet should he ask.

“Don’t tease me so much, captain,” your pout was enough to lift his spirits from that asinine thought. “Now, where are you going? I’ll go prepare my things.”

“Just heading up to Dragonspine to meet with the chief investigator. It shouldn’t be too hard, so you can just stay here and enjoy a bit of downtime, yeah? Go bother my brother if you want, you have my full permission.”

You frowned and Kaeya suddenly felt a chill crawl through his spine. You never did expressed such a disappointment even on the most difficult situations, and it suddenly feels like he made a mistake in refusing you. Perhaps it was because you towered over him so easily, perhaps it was because you could catch him without even trying that Kaeya suddenly felt so small in comparison to you.

The tension lasted for a good minute, silence engulfed the both of you and Kaeya has never felt so uncomfortable in his own skin. Should he have taken his answer back? But really, there was no need for you to escort him in the first place.

You then broke the silence with a quiet, dispirited sigh.

“Okay, but please keep safe, alright?” You patted the captain’s cheeks, sending him a small smile before heading off.

Kaeya didn’t like the way the guilt gnawed in his chest.

And while you also didn’t like an act of betrayal, you found it necessary at times — times when lessons had to be taught. The Acting Grandmaster said so herself, that experience is the best teacher.

Kaeya trudged through the coldness of Dragonspine, completely hating the fact that he had no company now. Maybe he should’ve just agreed to your proposition, and you looked so sad too! Like a kicked puppy that was told to sleep outside in the cold night. He couldn’t bear the thought of you looking so sad — you were his partner, of course you should’ve come!

Alas, the feelings of being attached to someone burdened him so, and while he sought your brightest and warmest of smiles, he couldn’t muster the courage to see it fall on the day that he fulfills what he knows would be his inevitable fate in the long run.

However all his rumination came into a halt the moment he heard a roar that thundered quite literally just beside him.

Kaeya had little time to think the moment the beast emerged from the towering trees of the mountains, his head blanking as he watched it lunge towards him with great speed. His hand that went up to the hilt of his sword suddenly froze the very moment he realized he was a little too late.

Closing his eye shut, he braced for the impact until suddenly, the beast roared and he could hear the familiar sickening sound of a blade piercing through the flesh.

Mere seconds were all it took for him to regain his breathing, his ears ringing as the adrenaline pumped through his veins. He now wonders if he really should’ve taken you up on your offer on escorting him in the first place, sure would’ve eased the guilt he felt inside and maybe he wouldn’t have to space out in the middle of his trail.

“Captain! Are you okay?!”

His eye flew open, seeing your angelic face that held nothing but pure concern for him. He glanced back at the slain beast and back to you, pupils dilated — you were here. Here. And you protected him.

He stayed still, watching in bated breath as you dropped your bloodied greatsword that stained the thick coat of snow. You smiled a little, brushing away a few strands of hair from his face, “There’s my captain. Are you alright? Did it hurt you?”

“Y…You’re here…?”

You blinked before laughing, bashful and what Kaeya can consider as remotely adorable in any other day, “Ah… yeah. I know you said I can’t come… but I can’t help it! What if you were in trouble and I wasn’t there to protect you? So I came and good thing I did!”

Kaeya’s lips trembled, before lunging in to hug you tight, almost sending you tumbling into the snow. You quickly returned the gesture, wrapping your arms around him tight. You patted his back, rubbing circles to soothe your poor little captain.

“There, there. From now on, let’s stick together, okay?”

The captain nodded into your shoulder, looking up to look at the unmoving beast that laid in the snow.

He does wonder though… since when were wild beasts in this mountain leashed?

𐂂

Diluc

To the citizens of Mondstadt, their uncrowned king remains as cold and as untouchable as he can be. He rarely interacted with anyone, and was almost always either cooped up in his manor, or out in other nations to further propagate his empirical business in the wine industry. He was always on the move, and people admired him for that.

And you were willing to bet your entire life that their admiration would grow tenfold when they realized that Diluc was the unsung Darknight Hero that terrorized every monsters that hoped to wreak havoc in the lives of the citizens.

Alas, the situation remains as it were, with him completely aloof to the people, leaving either a terrifying impression, or one that could leave someone seething at his unwelcoming tendencies.

But you would be remiss to blindly agree to that. In fact, you vehemently denied those claims as you remained by his side, like a loyal watchdog for him to command as he so pleases.

He was your savior first before your now superior. Diluc was your beacon of hope on the very day he rescued you from the cold rain, ostracized from your nation that you once loved and now left with a gaping void on your chest. You could still remember the feeling of that cold rain while you trudged within the Dawn Winery’s vicinity, when suddenly the rain stopped pelting harshly on you as a pair of shoes entered your field of vision.

You could still remember his words echo within your ears.

“You’re going to get sick. Come inside and let the rain pass at least.”

The rest was history after that, and now you sat as the elusive and capable butler of the famed prolific young man of the Ragnvindr clan. Though in fairness, you weren’t particularly elusive, and Adelinde can attest to that.

She has never seen someone handle their Master Diluc so delicately. She could sing her praises to you endlessly, with your attentive nature, and you willingness to serve Diluc without even an ounce of hesitation. You’ve certainly earned your keep in their eyes, and even the pyro vision wielder can see your dedication towards him.

There was always something with the way you carried yourself the moment you started working under the Ragnvindr house, you first started off as a mere novice in caring for the house, until you rapidly climbed up the ranks as Diluc’s personal attendant, aiding him in his home as well as his monthly international trips to ensure his safety.

Really, it wasn’t much to be praised for. You were only doing your job, and it’s a job that you found yourself intensely passionate for. To be with Diluc was an honor, to serve the man that saved you from your untimely demise, returning his actions with so much more than what was on offer.

Your service was something that toed between your gratefulness and a borderline obsession.

You gave what you can and Diluc was nothing but completely enamored with you, from your lofty smiles that felt like heaven, to your assisting hands that traced against his shoulders on mornings where you helped him get dressed for the day. All of it was slowly drawing him in. You were perfect, too perfect in fact, and it haunted poor Diluc that knew nothing but pain and betrayal.

“Master Diluc, I believe there is merit to getting some sleep after working so hard,” your smile was light and airy, and it was already a breath of fresh air from the contrasting suffocating environment that was filled to the brim with mindless drunks.

Diluc made a quiet noise of agreement (his mouth barely had the strength to move after talking to so many patrons of his), yet his feet begged to differ as it led him up to his office without skipping a beat.

You folded his coat in your arms and trailed after him, “So then why am I seeing you opening the door to what I believe is not your bedroom door?” You inquire with a croon, lovingly watching the way his hand hesitated to find the doorknob. It was a sign that he heeded your little advice and your little heart that was filled to the brim with love for your master couldn’t help but swell with pride and increase in rate, almost spilling over.

“I have… some reports to attend to. If I can finish it tonight, it would be less burden on me tomorrow,” Diluc reasoned, but it was clear that he was slowly caving into your whims, just the way you like it.

He was inexplicably weak towards you for some reason — something not a lot of people could achieve despite working for him or with him for a good while.

“Would it be wise to tend to them while completely exhausted?”

Once again, you’ve put him in a difficult place. You’re a cunning man, unfortunately for him, able to wriggle in some moments of logic into his brain that prioritized his duties over his own wellbeing. And for some reason, concerning as it is, his brain feels intoxicated as it sways to your will, completely subservient and willing to abide despite the fact that you were his servant and he was the commanding authority in your relationship.

Diluc feels it sometimes — the unsettling feeling of being squeezed tight, like a python coiling around his body as it suffocated him with love and care. His movements are restricted and he was unable to break free from that tightening grasp.

It was almost hard to breathe, but at the same time there was sick sense of comfort that was lodged into the back of his mind. He liked it. It was the affection that he was deprived of, leaving him writhing in the loneliness that he was forced to soldier through. And when you came to him on that one night, you gave him what he needed but not asked for.

You made him feel like he’s worth something, and it made him want to vie for a life worth something as well. It was a feeling that he could get high off of, and you were willing donor to whatever it was that he lacked.

And before he knew it, he sat at his tub comfortably, completely bare and vulnerable while you continued to wash his hair with such gentle hands. Never has he known a touch so kind like yours and he was ready to get lost within it.

“Feeling better?” Your voice coos at his ear, sickeningly sweet and yet he submits himself into it with reckless abandon. Your hands moved from his hair, leaving the most addicting touches as you traced your fingertips from the nape of his neck right to his shoulders that were filled with tension.

“Much,” Diluc muttered, head turning up as his half-lidded eyes met yours, still filled with that irresistible fondness that he grew to be addictive of. “Thank you, [Name].”

You smiled, succinct yet saccharine while your hands worked away the kinks and knots away from your master’s incredibly tensed muscles.

For him, you would give your all, even if it meant to face death. You would throw away anything else because a world without your endearing master is a world not worth living for. You will serve him until the world falls to your feet, and if given the chance, you will do what you can to protect him even beyond your useless life that long passed.

He was your savior and now you were a devout believer — one that worships his master with little to no hesitation. You can beat any other nun or the beloved deacon of that measly church with how much love and devotion you were willing to show him. Hell, even if you can’t, if it’s what Diluc wants, you would do well with dying as you try and make the impossible completely possible just for him.

Your love through subservience was quick to snuff out the wings your master once embodied to soar freely. He slowly caved into you, in need and constantly hungry for more, unaware of his growing dependence on your presence.

“It’s no problem, my lord. I will serve and tail you until the ends of this world. And even in my death, I am yours to command and to have.”

Diluc mirrored your smile, albeit much more tired than your sweet one.

He was the willing prey and you were the loving predator.

The unmistakably perfect match.

[cuubism]

Joy

Dreamling | T rating | Retired Dream | on emotional repression

I was thinking about a post, which I cannot find alas, about retired Morpheus struggling to deal with the fact that his actions and emotions don't have universe-wide consequences anymore. Like, he's allowed to just feel things now? And as someone who's also been extremely checked out of their own emotions at various points I can tell you the transition is… not easy. Anyways.

--

Morpheus is out when Hob gets home, or so he assumes. When he steps into the hall, the flat has the utterly still quality of total vacancy, no noise or distant movement. For all that Morpheus is a relatively quiet person, generally speaking, Hob has still become attuned to what his presence feels like, or the lack thereof.

Or so he thought.

For when he reaches the kitchen, Morpheus is there, sitting at the kitchen table, completely still. Hob almost doesn't see him, that's how still he is. Back straight, hands folded on the table, looking down at them as if he's meditating, or working out some complicated problem in his head.

Hob quietly sets down his bag and sits across from him. “Hey... love? You okay?”

He almost whispers it so as not to break the silence. Normally Hob would leave him to his devices if he was in the middle of something, but despite the fact that Morpheus is not given to unnecessary movement, the complete stillness sends something uncomfortable creeping up Hob’s spine. Morpheus hadn't even seemed to hear him come in.

With glacial slowness, Morpheus nods.

“It’s just…” Hob continues, biting his lip. “You’re not moving. At all. I almost didn’t think you were breathing.”

“That is the idea,” Morpheus agrees, still looking at his hands.

"Not breathing?"

"Not moving."

"Can I ask why?"

"I am. Preoccupied. With." His fingers flex against each other on the table as if forcing stillness. "Movement within."

Hob doesn't know what that means. "Can you elaborate?"

"I must make it still," Morpheus says. "I have before. I will."

Which clears up nothing. And Hob is getting the increasing sense that something is wrong but he's floundering as to what.

"Will you come sit on the couch with me?" he finally asks. "You look like you're about to snap in half."

"If it will please you," Morpheus says. Like his own pleasure-or-not in this matter is something he'd prefer not to touch.

"It will," Hob says. Morpheus follows him to the couch, moving like– like he did before. That ethereal creature that considered every step like he was crossing a thinly frozen lake.

So that's what it is.

Morpheus sits down beside him, drawing his knees up to his chest in a movement that, Hob is almost relieved to observe, is very much not like before.

Hob drapes the blanket from the back of the couch over his shoulders. Morpheus flinches, but doesn't push it off. "What's going on, hon?"

"It is..." Morpheus admits, slowly, "loud."

Hob frowns. "In your head? I thought you said it's been quieter since–"

"No." Morpheus presses a hand to his sternum. "Here."

Hob touches his chest, carefully, hand resting beside Morpheus's. All he can hear, or rather feel, is Morpheus's heartbeat, still a new and learning thing. "Your heart?"

"Everything. It... resounds. And drives off reason."

"Okay." Hob rubs his hand up and down over his chest, as if that might soothe him. Hob is aware enough of the feeling of overwhelm, and of Morpheus's particular brand of it, now that he has so little to distract him. "Just give it time and it'll pass, love."

Morpheus shakes his head. "That is not–" his lips press into a distressed line. "Duration is. Not the issue. It is. What will be left. After. Detritus."

Hob's own heart clenches. "Your feelings aren't a storm, love."

"Are they not?"

"You aren't going to make storms in the Dreaming, now," Hob says, though he knows Morpheus knows this.

"I speak not of weather, Hob Gadling," Morpheus growls. "I can– raze minds, I can spin balanced consciousness into euphoria, I can twist it all on its head with no effort and I will–" his fingertips dig into his chest, and Hob thinks that if he were still capable of manifesting claws he'd be drawing blood even through his shirt– "I will make it stop. It will be quiet again, I swear it."

"Only thing you're spinning is yourself," Hob says, gently.

And the thing is, he knows Morpheus knows this. Knowledge isn't the issue. It's sort of like how he never quite believes that Hob will never want to die, no matter how many times Hob tells him. I know that, Hob Gadling, he will say, but Hob can never quite get him to feel it.

"I know that, Hob Gadling," he says, again, now. That same tone. How dare you not believe it. How dare.

"Give me your hand," Hob says.

"Hob–"

Hob takes his hand and pulls it to himself, pressing Morpheus's palm flat to his own chest. Morpheus makes as if to pull away, then surrenders.

"Look," Hob says. "It's not hurting me, is it?"

"No," Morpheus admits, reluctantly, still with that tension through his shoulders.

"What about the room? Is everything shaking into pieces? Is it all going haywire? People rioting in the streets?"

Morpheus shakes his head no.

"See?" Hob says, squeezing his hand. "It's alright."

"I want it quiet," Morpheus says. He no longer sounds frustrated. More defeated. "It should not be... here." He touches his breastbone. "Here." His throat. "Here." His head.

"Where's it supposed to be, then?"

"Gone."

Hob sighs. This will not be an easy fix, not at all. He leans in, awkward though the angle is, and kisses Morpheus's chest, his neck, his temple, then stays, leaning against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, love. I know it's not easy. I happen to like you not gone, though, for what it's worth."

"Me?"

"Uh-huh. You. That's you in there, you know, not some brain-eating amoeba."

He gets a tiny huff of an almost-laugh from Morpheus. "Is it?"

"Yup. The part you weren't allowed to see because everything else was so loud." He rubs Morpheus's chest again, where he keeps saying it's hurting.

Morpheus's mouth opens as if to protest, and Hob adds–

"I'm not going to criticize you for it, okay? I promise I'm not."

Hob gets it. Well. He can't get it, actually, he's never been in charge of the entire dreaming world, but he tries.

"I thought you were supposed to go out today?" he says. "Weren't you getting tea with Rose? What happened with that? You were looking forward to it, I thought."

"I was, yes." He says it as if this is bad somehow. "Looking forward to it, that is. Her company is... enjoyable.”

“Okay? That's good, right?"

But Morpheus shakes his head. "It is too much."

"Too much?" Hob asks. "Were you nervous about it?"

Again, Morpheus shakes his head. “Joyful.”

Hob's heart is actually going to break. He knows this is part of why Morpheus left in the first place. And yet it's still tormenting him, which feels criminally unfair. And the worst part is there's no one to really blame, he knows why Morpheus did it, he can't and won't fault him for it when he was put in such a position.

He asks quietly, “So that joy didn't feel good to you?”

Morpheus shakes his head, biting down hard on his lip, and then, to Hob's horror, bursts into tears.

For all that Morpheus is prone to drama and moping, Hob has never actually seen him cry. He hadn't cried when he’d told Hob of his imprisonment, offering only a hint of scorched anger to indicate how he felt about it, the words, I had not realized what it was to be isolated and embodied until then. It was agonizing, said with the even cadence of the moon in orbit instead of the rawness they deserved. Nor had he cried when he'd shown up on Hob's doorstep and, when greeted with a concerned Hey, Dream, are you okay? – because he certainly didn't look it, drenched to the bone and his cloak absent its swirling inner cosmos – answered merely, You should call me Morpheus, I am no longer Dream of the Endless. The closest Hob had ever seen was the glimmer in his eyes when he'd thought Hob no longer wished to live, all the way back in the 1600s, and even then, his tears had not fallen.

“Oh, darling.” Hob pulls him into his arms, rubbing his back. “It’s alright.”

“It does not feel,” Morpheus continues, voice remarkably steady given the tears streaming down his cheeks, “good. It feels loud. And I am not in control, I am subject to these whims and I am no subject, Hob.”

"Those feelings are part of you. Not subjecting.”

“I don’t want it,” Morpheus insists, with the bitter frustration of a former king, used to shaping the world around him as he wishes. “If they are free I do not know what might come out.”

What comes out are parts of you, Hob thinks, but doesn’t express it again. The raw parts that you think are so awful. “Well, if there’s any feeling to try it with, wouldn’t it be joy? Happiness?”

Morpheus huffs. "Do you think that sorrow and rage are the only feelings with the capacity to destroy? Joy can become hysteria, joy can ruin, I have seen it, I have done it, when I was much, much younger and did not understand my abilities. Strong feelings have power, the very Dreaming is crafted of them. It could not exist out of apathy.”

“Neither could you,” Hob points out, and Morpheus just huffs again, shaking his head.

“I thought that if I relinquished my responsibilities, I would no longer have to worry so about everything outside of myself,” Morpheus says. “And how it entangles with me. Only now. It is still there, but I can do nothing to stop it.”

“But listen, darling.” Hob squeezes his hand. “You’re allowed to be tangled up with everything, now. You’re supposed to be.” He twists their fingers together. “I want you tangled up.”

“I will— without access to my realm I will step wrong, and—”

“And you can fix it,” Hob says. “Promise. No rebuilding a whole universe required.”

Morpheus sniffles, and Hob wipes the tears from his cheeks. “You always kept yourself above it all, didn’t you?”

“It is my responsibility to keep the collective unconscious in balance,” Morpheus says. He hasn’t quite stopped talking about his responsibilities in the present tense — Hob thinks it will be a while before he fully internalizes the lack of that weight. “Not to sway it to my feelings. Historically, when I have involved myself, it has… not gone well.”

“It doesn’t always as a human, either,” Hob says, and Morpheus’s frown deepens. “I mean, we’re all just bumping up against each other, you know? But you’re allowed to have space there, even if it doesn’t always go right.”

“If you mean this to be very comforting, I will have to disappoint you,” says Morpheus, but there’s more humor in it now, and he’s stopped crying. He pushes his head into Hob’s shoulder, and Hob wraps his arms around him tighter, holds him close.

“I wish it could all be immediately easy for you,” Hob says. “I’d do anything to make it so.”

“I did not expect this to be easy,” Morpheus says, voice rumbling into Hob’s chest. “But the challenges have repeatedly come from unforeseen directions.”

Hob kisses the side of his head. “I’m glad you’ve stuck with me anyway.”

“You have been very patient with my… meandering attempts at basic humanity.”

“Always will. I love you.”

It’s another thing he’s struggled to get Morpheus to truly accept, that Hob’s care for him was never contingent on any of his abilities or powers. That Hob won’t be scared away no matter his mistakes, because Hob has faced a lot of terrifying things in his life and the worst is the prospect of losing Morpheus entirely.

This time, Morpheus doesn’t reject it. He just hums and lets Hob pet his hair, lets Hob keep him and quiet him towards ease, which Hob intends to do until Morpheus can find it himself, and then after, too.

And several weeks later, when Morpheus comes home from the park with a colored pencil drawing Jed made for him, smiling and holding it to his chest with real joy in his eyes, Hob shines with pride, and the part of his heart that might have broken just a bit listening to Morpheus cry that day heals over again.

[hauntingblue]

Sanji has adquired top sad wet cat status

[rascalentertainments]

All right, it's time for the moment you've been waiting for!

I present you the Wish Granted AU Starboy! 🌟

Took me quite a while to finish this since I don't get a lot of time to draw nowadays, but I'm just happy it paid off! I actually had a hard time picking out a name, so I'll just call him Star. If you do have a suggestion or two, I'd like to hear them, and I could give him another name later in the story!

I actually based him more on Bill Schwab's designs from past films he's worked on. The idea here is that while Asha and the rest of the characters look like the normal modern Disney design, Star here looks more cartoonish, calling back to the more classic Walt Disney characters with big expressions and facial features. Star can actually turn on and off the glow at anytime, but when its on, he might as well be a Christmas Tree. 😅 I'll reveal more about his character in the next Wish Granted character post later this week. I do wish I had a digital art pad so I could digitally color this in, but alas, I'm doing it old school. 😂

I will say that he's a bit of a wild card, that likes to act at the spur of the moment. If there's a problem he think he can solve, he's going to drag Asha along with him to do it whether she agrees to it or not! (Not that she minds, of course)

*Takes a look a round then lets Starboy out of the security room*

Me: All right, coast is clear. Now then. Here's the deal there's some other Starboys here who-

Star: *Gasp* There are more starts like me on Earth?! 😮

Me: Yeah, quite a few, there's Aster, Cielo, Sueño, another Aster...

Star: *his glow starts to brighten the more he hears this* That's so cool! Can we go meet them, like right now?? 😀

Me: Uh, I don't think we should rush into this,

Star: *sees a group of glowing figures a long distance from them* Wait, I think I see them over there! Oh hohoho, wait till I show them the animals I can change into!

Me: WHAT, NO—

Star: I'm gonna go say hi, byeeeeee!! *turns into a seagull resembling Scuttlebutt and flies away*

Me: OH FOR PETE'S SAKE, GET BACK HERE— *Chases after Star before he probably breaks something*

@signed-sapphire @annymation @oh-shtars @kstarsarts @chillwildwave @uva124 @emillyverse

[uchihaharlot]

I didn't mean to break their hearts, I was just curious, srry!😭😭 (but Itachi's one was kinda funny-)

But anyway, now I'm wondering about how they would react if they found out that you can draw really cool and beautiful.

(I'm an artist, so😎)

Nonny 🥹🥹

That put me in an really good mood; lol. That was way too fun to write; maybe I can one day write a super angsty break up (but I love them too much!!!).

I love all artists 😭😭😭 Painters, writers — digital or paper. Anything that expresses the inner workings of someone’s mind and the fact that they can manifest it to reality is so so so beautiful. I hope I’ve secretly seen your art, I’d probably simp over it. Always simp over art. 😂😂🥹🥹

N/SFW; very cute Uchiha men adoring your artwork! 🥹🥹🥹 (ooc Madara??); Simpy Obito; …Scandalous Shisui; abnormally observant Itachi 😂 suggestive themes rolled out the further I got. For some reason, I just had to. (P.s. I should not be allowed to write when tired??? Half of this was done while my eyes rolled shut in bed).

Madara:

It’s not everyday that Madara is blown like a leaf in the wind. When you mentioned being a patron of the arts, he thought maybe the art of battle?? Didn’t expect your weapon to be a paint brush with some acrylic paint. Thought it was some weird jutsu infused shit.

And then you just had to go above and beyond and do a portrait of him for his birthday!!!!! It’s hung on the living room center wall so that it’s the first thing anyone sees! Honestly, this man is a brute, but your art envokes his softer side! A side that he hasn’t been in touch with for…well, a long time.

Makes sure that everyone and I mean, everyone, is aware of your talent! Still, he tries to find the side hussle in it, soliciting customers for you and all. 😭😭 Will trash talk the chalk art children make on the sidewalk, which ‘…that’s not nice, they’re children..’ you say. He shrugs, nobody is as good as you.

Obito:

Finds out and tries to ‘secretly’ commission you lmao. Makes it totally obvious too, his handwriting is shit and eveeeerrryyyyone knows who Tobi really is…. Plus how can you even begin without discussing what he wants done!! Duh, Obito! Unfortunately for him, you are more interested in drawing matters of the flesh. He’ll only show his chest, nothing more.

‘That’s fine.’ You shrug, and get to work. Obito, however, does not have the resolve to sit still! It’s frustrating to no end, but alas, after what seems an eternity— its done. Sort of. Still much to add, but the basics are there and you’ll work better when he’s not asking how does it look every twenty minutes.

Eventually you do finish this beautiful piece of him, and Obito cries. You made his scars tolerable and beautiful with your mind’s creativity, he feels less self conscious about them, only a little.

Shisui:

Is the least normal about it when he discovered your sketchbook — more like snatched and played keep away. Had to fight him for it, literally. Will ask you to paint/draw him naked…many times lol and you respectfully say no... Not that he likes people to see him naked (ok maybe a little?) but he secretly hopes it might happen one day. It would be a private thing for the two of you, cause he wants that ass.

And when you do cave to his whim, just to satiate him. He’s nervous lmao. Had this oh so macho man idea of rocking a hard on but Shisui simply maintains his usual semi. It’s nice though, you make sure it’s extremely detailed..as he asked for.

But, ‘(y/n)… this is chibbi!!!’ Lol, jokes on Shisui!! He didn’t say how to draw his pp.

Itachi:

Is the most normal about it. Though he still will praise you every time you finish a piece and show him, he is still massively impressed. How does your wrist not get tired? …maybe this is why your hand jobs are so good. 😈 Just watching you try a new technique (pointillism, which is my favorite style) makes his wrist hurt. Enjoys when you ask him for ideas! He has lots of them! Mostly…obscure and derelict landscapes though.

Would not be opposed to having his portrait done, but it’s really not his style. He is disciplined enough to sit still but doesn’t see the value in it. Not until the final product is revealed, does he truly understand how important this piece was. You’ve captured his personality in a new light.