#foul little pessimist

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hello! I love your writing, especially the cult of the lamb stuff lately (I’m absolutely obsessed with the game) and was wondering if you could do something for Lamb with a follower! Reader that’s cynical but devoted to the cult because the lamb saved them, and how their relationship with the reader would evolve into something romantic?

Awh thank you!! This game is still an ever-present obsession ghshghs

.........

"Another gift? What's the meaning of this, Leader? Is there a reason for-?"

"Calm yourself, [y/n]. I only wanted to show my most devoted follower some appreciation."

"........."

"You can open it." Awkwardly shuffling their hooves, Lamb stood there as they watched you slowly unwrap the gift they had given you.

You wouldn't say it was "generous", considering how such an exchange is usually preceded by a favor ranging from assistance with a ritual to being forcibly converted into a demon.

It's not how most of your fellow followers would think, as they'd praise their leader for giving them presents and swear undying loyalty to them.

You're a little bit different.

After seeing that Lamb's gift was a golden plushie made in their likeness, you just frowned slightly. "It's...cute." Then you stuffed it into the pocket of your robe. "But don't think you can just woo me over with trinkets like these. If you're trying to turn me soft like the rest of your-"

"There is no ulterior motive behind my nice gesture, I can assure you. And this cult isn't making anyone "soft"." They scowled back, nearly baring their sharp teeth, but managing to hold back.

"...sure. Now may I be dismissed?"

"Yes. You may go back to whatever you're doing."

Huffing, you left for your sheltered home, leaving Lamb to reflect on why your attitude was so....foul today. But then again, they remembered a very important trait of yours that a few followers shared with you:

Cynicism.

Right from the start, your faith in this cult was low. And your loyalties weren't so easily boosted by gifts, confessions, decorations, and sermons...and yet despite your pessimistic ways of thinking, you've yet to actually dissent.

Dissenters usually began with the most cynical of followers, but you never acted like you hated Lamb themselves nor the way they run things here.

In fact, it's true you're the most devoted. You've gone to every sermon, assisted with rituals when needed, and even guided the young on the ways of this cult and aided the elderly.

You were everything Lamb wanted...

The only issue was your attitude towards their kindness.

But after a little bit of mindreading, they were aware that you've been in a different cult long before this one.

Your former leader had also done nice things for you, providing the basic necessities you've craved....all to make you gullible and willing to follow their every word.

Then they betrayed you to the Bishops of the Old Faith without a warning. You've done no wrong and never spoke out against anything they've done.

You never mattered to them. You were just a means to an end. A tool to help strengthen their cult and appease those "gods".

So even after Lamb saved you from the sacrificial altar, that bitterness and fear lingered. You were hesitant to let your guard down....especially when you became showered in gifts as thanks for your devotion.

In the back of your mind, you anticipated when they'd betray you when you least expected it--or perhaps they'd listen to the ludicrous idea of sacrificing or jailing you as some sick "prank" by another follower just to entertain them.

Surely, you were all just tools and entertainment to this sheep, right?

Yet there was a big part of you that didn't want to believe that..

You wanted to believe they were genuine in their gestures.

..........

"The Lamb has abandoned you all!! They are no hero!! They will fall to Bishop Shamura!!!"

"...really? It's too early for this crap.."

After going to bed feeling somewhat content, you woke up feeling groggy and annoyed as you heard some dissenter shouting nonsense outside. You drew back your shelter's curtain to see Hauras stationing himself near the shrine, holding a megaphone made of twigs.

Normally, the elders would be doing their morning prayers at the center, but with the scorpion being an absolute nuisance and a danger...they had no choice but to pray elsewhere.

It's no surprise that he was gonna be sour over his defeat and subsequent indoctrination for a long time, as he was the last of Shamura's keepers.

Speaking of whom, Lamb was still on their long crusade to finally kill the last standing bishop for good.

Even so, that pest thought demoralizing the cult's faith in them would be effective. But you weren't going to listen to this all damn morning.

And besides, your leader has tasked you with collecting lumbar as some new trees have recently sprouted. You've chopped them all down.....except for the one Hauras was standing right beside.

Lucky you.

Rolling your eyes, you just went ahead to make yourself breakfast, eating as you watched the other followers closely. A few of the overzealous ones shrugged off his words and continued on with their day, although some of the newer members looked confused and even anxious, thinking he was right about Lamb.

At that point, he began drawing a small crowd, but as you finally approached with an axe, they dispersed.

Hauras sneered, eyes literally seething red. "What do you want?"

"I wish you would take your little tirade elsewhere so our elders to pray here. Plus I need to chop down the-."

"You're [y/n], aren't you? The one who always second-guesses Lamb's "kindness"?" He chittered with a small smirk. "I've seen how you've acted around them...you hate them, don't you?"

"I don't hate them." You scowled. "They saved-"

"Sure, they saved you...but only because you're a means to an end." He taunted. "You don't have to lie around me. You think they're selfish..greedy..and no different from the Bishops of the Old Faith. They seek to replace them, but they won't replace Lord Shamura. I may have failed, but I know they-"

Fed up, you swiped the megaphone from his pinchers, throwing it towards a nearby boulder and smashing it to pieces.

He gasped. "How DARE YOU-?!!" After trying to whip his tail at you in retaliation, you dodged and managed to trip him, causing him to hit the ground hard as he laid on his back, groaning.

Then you stomped on his tail, hearing his pained yell that attracted the attention of other nearby followers. You, however, paid no mind to them. "You talk too much."

"R-Release me!!"

"I can....but first tell me one thing, Hauras."

"...what?"

"How badly do you need this stinger?"

His eyes widened with terror as he saw the blade of your axe glistening in the morning sunlight, hovering dangerously close to where his stinger connected to the tip of his tail.

"N-No.." He shuddered. "You wouldn't dare.."

"Then maybe I ought to tell Lamb you're singing praises about Shamura...and we'll see if it's more than just your stinger that you lose." You had a menacing glint in your eyes.

"Please..they would never-!!"

"[Y/n]. Hauras."

You both froze and looked to see Lamb suddenly standing there, their expression full of bewilderment at what was happening before them.

The moment you took your foot off of Hauras' tail, he scrambled to his feet and ran over to them. "Great Leader! They threatened to rip out my stinger!" He kneeled down, feigning tears. "You must punish them! They are-!"

"I've heard everything, Hauras." They cut him off, giving him a stern glare. "You're dissenting again, threatening our elders, and I'm honestly getting quite sick of it. But don't worry about defending Shamura anymore...for I've claimed their heart."

From the pockets of their cloak, they revealed the purplish thorn-wrapped organ, surprising both of you.

The scorpion, however, got up and scurried away to vomit somewhere, utterly repulsed by the sight and smell of blood.

It's clear to say he wasn't going to dissent anymore.

You scoffed. "That was one of Shamura's finest warriors, capable of melting his enemies from the inside out....and he gets disgusted by that?"

"It surprised me, too." Lamb glanced at you, smiling a little as they put the heart away. "I appreciate you defending me in my absence-"

"He was trying to put words in my mouth, and I didn't like that." You quickly spoke, trying to hide your flustered expression. "Like all scorpions, he was being a little pest...and this cult has no time for that."

"...that is true. The One Who Waits wishes to speak with me after I've broken all the chains, but for now..allow me to help you cut down this tree." The Red Crown flew off their head, turning into a gleaming axe in their hands. "It's pretty sturdy-looking. Should give us enough lumbar to improve the shelters."

"....alright. Thanks for the assist, Leader." Was all you said before heading over to the tree, while they hung back for a moment to process what you said to them.

A simple thank you.

That was all they've been wanting to hear from you for a long time, and you said it! To them!

It made their smile grow tenfold, before they quickened their pace in following you, ignoring the calls of their other followers. They could feel their own tail wagging with delight.

Were you finally warming up to them?

............

"Come dance with me, [y/n]!"

"...I don't dance."

"In this cult, we do. Now c'monnn.." Lamb tugged on your hands, pouting much like a needy child as you rolled your eyes.

Who would have thought someone with such a sweet face would change the lands of the Old Faith forever?

At last, they usurped the One Who Wait--or Narinder, as he was called--proving themselves worthy of the crown that many, yourself included, believed they didn't deserve.

Although you were still shaken up after being kidnapped and almost sacrificed to him (alongside the entire cult)...you saw that terrified look upon your leader's face, and realized there's no way they could have known..

Narinder had tricked all of you, and Lamb fought back not just for their own life, but for everyone's as well.

Especially yours.

That's what ultimately restored your faith in them.

Once everything was said and done, a huge celebration commenced--and lasted for three whole days.

Tonight, for the grand finale, Lamb wished to have a dance around the bonfire. You and your followers worked hard to gather as much wood as possible, before they ignited it at sundown.

It was a beautiful sight, seeing the red flames flickering and the smoke rising high into the night sky, lighting up the cult grounds and golden decor. And seeing the followers cheer, dance, sing, and play music was a lovely thing to witness.

You, however, felt content with just observing the scene..

Or at least, until a certain sheep approached and offered you a dance.

So maybe they did find a way into your heart after all, but you insisted on entertaining them with only one short dance. Just so they stopped pestering you.

Yet it lasted longer than you thought.

Together you two shuffled, twirled, and swayed..all while some other followers took inspiration and danced with their significant others and crushes.

Yet all you could focus on was Lamb and their surprisingly elegant motions.

Nothing else.

Eventually, you both settled into a slow and gentle sway, embracing each other with them burying their face into your chest, listening to your heartbeat. The blush on your cheeks was nearly as red as your robe at this point.

But you took in this peaceful and intimate moment, your hand gingerly stroking the back of their wooly head. The Red Crown was absent, instead being on the ground beside your feet, looking up at you.

For a brief second, you gazed at it, your blush worsening as it gave you a single wink. 'Huh..they're comfortable enough to leave it off in my presence..? They trust me this much?'

"Is it wise to leave your precious crown where any fool can just steal it, Lamb?"

"Why? You fancy stealing it yourself, hm?" They looked up at you with a teasing smile. "You're the most precious thing to me..the crown is just a tool at the end of the day."

"Like all the followers you work to th...."

You stopped.

It suddenly just occurred to you that they called you "precious". But why?

Were they infatuated with you?

Were you infatuated with them?

Lamb tilted their head. "What's wrong, [y/n]?"

You only gazed back at them, at first completely tongue-tied as you saw the curious glint in their eyes, alongside the red fire that reflected off of them.

It made your heart beat fast. Heat rose to your cheeks again...and it wasn't because of the flames.

That's all it took for the final wall to crumble.

You sighed quietly, relaxing your shoulders as you offered them a tiny smile. "Nothing, my dear leader. For the first time since you've saved me, I feel...at peace being here with you. This place, and you, make me feel....safe."

Lamb nearly teared up at your words. "I'm glad. Would you like to be-?"

"Yes."

Their ears perked up with surprise. Now it was their turn to blush as scarlet covered their gray cheeks. "You...knew what I was going to say?"

"You're not the only mind-reader around here, Lamb." You chuckled at their cuteness. "If it's alright, I'd rather...take it slow. No rush to do a marriage ritual."

That took a big weight off their shoulders.

You understood what they wanted the most. You've always understood them better than anyone. Even Narinder himself.

They were so elated they couldn't help but pull you into a kiss, not minding all the followers gasping and cooing at the intimate display.

None of them mattered, though.

Only you two.

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Gyutaro General Profile

Yandere! Gyutaro x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, violence, mentions of non-con, mentions of masturbation, nonconsensual touching, semi graphic descriptions of violence, murder, mentions of catcalling and objectification (not by our lovely disturbed Gyutaro), poor nutrition, descriptions of Gyutaro consuming human flesh, lack of vitamin D in the underground lair, Gyutaro is cripplingly insecure and it shows, threats of violence against you, yelling, deragatory language, Stockholm Syndrome, mentions of reader being non-traditionally pretty, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy! 

WC: 11K

DARLING PROFILE:

Motherly 

The feelings he holds for his darling are, of course, not platonic, but there’s a part of him that craves to be cared for.

Daki cares for him, true, but he needs more – a sort of love that will leave his cold, empty heart racing, a love that will make his pessimistic views of himself and the world just a bit softer, someone to hold and warm his bed and tell him that he’s enough.

It’s sad, really; he’s so painfully insecure, so full of self-hatred and loathing that the moment his darling shows even an ounce of kindness or care for him, he’s done for.

He’s latching onto them, desperate for any ounce of love or attention they can give him, greedily taking and taking and taking, needing to feel cared for and wanted in a way he’s only ever dreamed of.

His darling is addicting, the feelings they give him becoming something he needs in order to simply just function, and a darling who can help foster these feelings and continually care for him would be very, very attractive to him.

He needs a darling who pities him, really, though he doesn’t want this to be obvious – they need to feel for him, to want to help him and stop all these horrible self deprecating comments, to help give him even just the slightest bit of confidence.

And just these efforts alone will have him gulping, his claws sinking into their sides in an effort to keep them by his side, safe and secure and trapped, so that they can never leave him.

Patient

He’s emotionally stunted.

 Having been turned to a demon from a difficult, horrible human life, he’s never had any experience with romance or how to properly woo someone. He’s rough around the edges and short tempered, easy to set off in a fit of anger with very little reason.

 He’s genuinely quite difficult to be around, and the constant negativity he spews about his life, humanity, and himself can be hard to tolerate.

As a result, he has to have a darling who is patient; they need to be able to handle all of the foul words and complaining he sends at them, just nodding along and comforting him, letting him clutch onto them and curl around their body, nearly suffocating them as he pours his heart out, relishing in the feeling of someone being there for him.

They need to be able to sooth him when his emotions get out of hand, running their fingers through his spindly hair and slowly rubbing his back, whispering his name and telling them that it’s okay, I’m here now, let’s try to get some sleep.

He needs a steady figure in his life, someone he can fall back on, someone to depend on and keep by his side as his rock.

He's too reclusive and standoffish to have had anyone prior to his darling, and the moment that his obsession forms, he’s latching onto them and never, ever letting go, akin to a parasite.

They become his sounding board, and while he does come as close to love as his twisted heart can get, at the end of the day they’re a possession of his, and they must be able to handle him.

Things will ugly very quickly if they can’t; a fate both he and his darling want to avoid.

Submissive 

Gyutaro likes the idea of a darling who will revere him. He doesn’t want someone who is feisty or stubborn; he likes the idea of a darling who is submissive and nurturing, kind and patient and utterly willing to do everything he wants.

He has such trouble being vulnerable, and a darling who challenges him in any way will immediately force him to backtrack any sort of progress he makes in this field, his shell closing in on himself and cutting him off from any further emotional contact with his darling.

He’s sensitive, and he needs someone who will simply nod and allow him to hold them, even if his hands are deathly cold and he’s so awkward about physical affection that it hurts.

He needs someone who will smile when he asks them to, the apples of their cheeks plumping up and their pretty teeth on display, the smile – even forced – making his heart ache in a way he simultaneously adores and makes him nauseas.

He needs someone who will let him rant and rave into their ear, his grip on them slowly tightening as he details all of the horrible injustices in the world, complaining about humans and how vile they are.

(He’ll always begrudgingly bury his face against his darling’s back or stomach when he does this, his voice small and weak as he says but not you, you’re different, you’re the only good one of those miserable, filthy beings…)

He just needs someone who will support him, even if that obedience comes from a place of fear and self preservation.

It doesn’t matter, because all that matters to Gyutaro is that they’re with him, warm and alive and pliant in his arms, listening to him and touching him and running their fingers through his hair.

He just needs someone to love, and is that really so much for a creature like him to ask for?

Not traditionally pretty 

While this isn’t a requirement, Gyutaro finds that a darling who isn’t the classical beauty everyone idolized when he was a human is preferable.

He certainly doesn’t find his darling ugly - absolutely not, but the idea of having a darling who has an insecurity regarding their looks is very, very attractive to him.

He doesn’t want his darling to be perfect in others’ eyes – no, they can only be perfect in his eyes, because he’s the only one who seems them for who they truly are.

He’s the only one who understands that they’re more than just their beauty, that they’re sweet and smart and gorgeous and intriguing and so, so very warm.

It makes him feel like he and his darling are connected if they don’t fall under the mainstream category of beauty, like they share something secret and primal, like they understand the suffering and horrors he’s experienced.

It convinces him further that he and his darling are bonded, that it’s some sort of twisted fate that they end up together – the monster and his love, the freak and the only one who could ever love him. It’s oddly poetic in his eyes, and so while this isn’t an absolute necessity, it definitely encourages his attraction towards his darling.

They just grow more beautiful to him day by day, their imperfections becoming the things he loves most about them, and while it sounds almost sweet and innocent, it really, really isn’t.

He’s hyper fixating, and while he doesn’t mean to be rude or prey on his darling’s insecurities, he’ll often comment on these perceived imperfections, telling them that they’re different, unique, weird, but in what he hopes is a comforting, awe-filled tone.

(It’s not, and it will take his darling quite some time to figure out that he’s being honest – he really, truly loves these features. It’s not a lie, even if he sounds like he’s belittling you – truly.)

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Stalker

Gyutaro is, tragically, not the most confidant creature on Earth. He’s internalized every bit of negative treatment he’s experienced, fully believing himself to be repulsive, disgusting, a freak.

And this doesn’t exactly instill confidence in his ability to interact with you – he’s convinced he’ll somehow royally fuck up if he approaches you, whether that be by scaring you, accidentally hurting you, or making you hate him.

He’s sure you’ll find him ugly and strange, that you’ll stare at him in horror and try to run away from him, only to leave him with a broken heart and anger simmering through his veins because how dare you reject him?

 He’s convinced things will go awry if he tries to interact with you in any normal, healthy manner and so he falls back on a less consensual, less perilous position – that is, there are many, many benefits to stalking you.

He can observe you much better this way, watching you at your most vulnerable, when you think you’re alone, when you’re comfortable and at ease and utterly unaware of the violent monster sitting on your windowsill as you sleep, or the shadow in the corner of your bedroom as you dress to get ready for the day.

(You’ll sometimes hear this ragged sort of gasp, so quiet you’ll think you’ve made it up, but it’s real, his cheeks on fire and his hands shaking because god, even just the sight of your bare shoulder is enough to bring him to his knees.)

He’s watching through Daki as he resides inside of her, taking in the way your lips move when you speak, your tongue darting out to lick at the dry skin, your employer feeling the way her brother’s emotions spike upwards the longer you talk.

He watches the way your fingers skillfully move as you fold and sort the laundry piles of Daki’s clothing, your eyes glimmering in the light of the ornate House room, your lashes looking perfectly curled, the urge to count each individual hair making him urge Daki to slowly creep closer, dangerously close to bridging the too-big gap between your bodies.

He takes in the sound of your voice; sweet, like honey, something that makes him close his eyes and bite his lip, his brows drawing inward, the idea of you saying his name making him have to grasp onto the nearest object to keep his composure.

He’s hanging on to every word you say – your replies to Daki’s commands, your words of appreciation when she treats you like a slave, how relentlessly kind to her you are. It’s odd, and frankly he doesn’t understand it – why would you be so sweet to someone treating you so poorly?

It almost makes him mad, as he lays dormant, wishing he could escape his sister’s body and carry you to another room, to wipe the somewhat sad look in your eyes away, to maybe even hold you like he’s seen humans do, pressing you against his bony chest and feeling your warmth and seeing your pretty eyes look up at him and maybe even kissing you –

He’ll always stop himself with a miserable wail when these thoughts get too out of control, confusion coursing through him because what is he thinking? You’re a lowly human, weak and disgusting and obsessed with trivial, horrible things like beauty and greed – you aren’t worth his time or energy, even if your skin looks smooth to the touch, even if your body looks warm and soft underneath the layers of your clothing, even if he swears that you sometimes even seem to see him through Daki, as if you can sense his presence.

The denial slowly begins ebbing out of his system, however, as time goes on – and instead, he replaces it with an increased sense of desperation for you.

He starts spending more time outside of Daki’s body than inside, wishing to be independent so that he doesn’t have to merely observe and hope that Daki will be in the same room as you.

Now, he can freely follow you; tracing your every move to different rooms in the house, around the district. He can see who you interact with, learn what makes you smile and laugh, what makes you cry, and see how you grow uncomfortable when strange men leer at you and ask to see what you’re hiding beneath your kimono.

(Rarely does Gyutaro kill non-slayer humans with purpose aside from eating or petty revenge for reacting badly to his appearance, but that night those men died in the most excruciating way he could think of, their voices ringing in his head. C’mon pretty girl, a good bitch like you is only good for one thing. Aw look, she’s scared. That just makes me even more excited, little girl. The rest of the night he spent on your windowsill, yellow eyes fixed on your peacefully sleeping form, trying to engrave the sound of the men’s screams into his mind.)

He likes being your shadow; of course, he fantasizes about the day he’ll get to interact with you himself, but for now this is enough. He's terrified you’d reject him if he were to try to speak with you like a human, and if he tried to confess his feelings for you and you were to reject him?

Well, Gyutaro isn’t afraid of many things, but he’d rather insult Muzan than see the disgust and hate in your eyes directed at him.

So, he satiates himself with simply watching you, always keeping a healthy distance between you, one that makes him equal parts relieved and frustrated.

It’s easy to pretend like he's in your life this way; he’ll imagine you saying his name, imagine holding you while you sleep, brushing away stray strands of hair from your face while you smile at him. He runs his fingers over your pillow when you’re not in your room, brings your toothbrush to his lips as he slowly, deliberately licks across the tied bristles, eyes rolling back because is this what you taste like?

It’s easier to pretend like you actually know of his presence this way, like you’re happy that he’s watching out for you, like you want him to stare at you, like you want him to just be there, to be by your side.

He won’t be content forever to simply follow you, but before he steals you away to Daki’s lair, it’s enough. Just barely, but it takes Gyutaro so long to gather the courage to actually interact with you that this is the only way to save himself from potential embarrassment and rejection.

After all, he feels like he’s getting to know the real you this way – too bad you know nothing of the looming, violent presence sticking onto you like fucking glue. 

Clingy

Gyutaro has a difficult time expressing his feelings. With his limited romantic experience, he’s very much not adept at human emotional communication. He struggles to properly display how he feels for you, especially towards the beginnings of his obsession.

At first, he’s incredibly resistant to the idea of growing attached to you. You’re just a human, and a weak one at that – you’ve been blessed with a pretty face (gorgeous even, he might say, though the barrage of scratching at his eyes that follows that statement deters it), you’re kind, you’re everything he claims to hate.

And yet, he can’t stop thinking about you – it’s infuriating, and at first he finds himself idly wondering if he should just kill you to get all these confusing, uncomfortable feelings to go away.

He doesn’t like how he’s not in control when he thinks of you, his heart racing and his palms growing sweaty, this weird, foreign sense of urgency fluttering in his stomach because he just needs to see you, to let his eyes settle onto your figure, to hear your voice or watch as you bite your lip in concentration or peacefully sleep.

He wants to kill you, but the more he thinks about it, the less sure of that he becomes – there’s this sour taste in his mouth when he imagines your dead body, and it makes him scratch at his neck to imagine you not being alive and therefore not watchable.

So, begrudgingly, he decides he shouldn’t harm you – not out of cause for your safety, but rather out of selfishness. This is, of course, just what he tells himself – in reality, it’s very much because he can’t stomach the thought of you getting hurt.

He doesn’t want a single scratch to mar your pretty skin or a single hair on your head to be touched – you’re perfect, and you’re his little bit of perfection, one that he’s never had before. He’s never had someone make his heart race like this, nor has he ever had someone be so unintentionally kind to him.

Originally, you’d caught his attention because you’d seen a shadow of him in Daki’s room in the house, and as her servant, you’d quickly closed the door and begged her forgiveness for interrupting, only to offhandedly compliment the colors of his hair as you attended to her.

Gyutaro, having been resting within her, had heard your compliment, and immediately was bristling, his heart fighting between extreme anger that you could be making fun of him, and a smaller, pathetically hopeful piece of him that was wondering if you’d meant it, if he’d really just received the first compliment of his life.

And from then on, he’s lost – his obsession festers quickly and strongly, his dependence on you growing with every minute of every day as he relives your compliment over and over, slowly finding everything you do endearing and interesting and – dare he say it – cute. And so, simply put, any time that Gyutaro is not sealed away inside of Daki, he’s diligently by your side, stuck to you like glue.

Once he develops feelings for you, he becomes much more independent than his previous self – rarely does he reside within Daki anymore, unless he needs to rest. He doesn’t like being trapped and separated from you, because while he still retains a level of consciousness of what’s going on around him when he’s sealed away, residing within her limits his ability to communicate with you.

And god, does he love to do that – once he’s stolen you away, he’s always, always talking to you, his gravelly voice ringing in your ears even when you try to sleep. He’s always asking your opinion on things, questions that seem pointless about your favorite foods, colors, activities, even personal questions about himself.

(What is your favorite thing about me? And don’t lie, I can sense when you lie; your lip trembles slightly, and I’ll sense your heart beating faster. It might be hard to answer, I’m so ugly…)

And of course, when he’s got you trapped in his thin, inhumanely strong arms while you both reside in Daki’s nest as the sun beats on the ground above, he’s reaching deeper, the questions becoming more personal.

Hey, what’s your biggest fear? What makes you the happiest? How does it feel to be so misfortunate as to have me as your lover?

He’s not always looking for answers – though most of the time he is – but rather he just likes the way you look at him while he asks. Your eyes are wide, your rapt attention given to him, and the way you hang onto his every word has him feeling important, understood, even if your answers aren’t what he wants to hear.

He’s never punished you for a wrong answer to these questions, though it’s easy to read his disappointment. Mostly, he absolutely hates it when your compliments fall flat, or if you aren’t as kind and loving as you normally are to him.

If you don’t give as heartfelt of a compliment to his appearance as you did yesterday – instead of praising his collarbone as being defined and curved like a bird’s song sounds, you’re telling him his eyes are pretty – he’ll pout, like some child, though the repercussions and feeling of terror you’ll experience are anything but childish.

He’s frowning, a scowl pulling at his features because he wants more. Tell him how his eyes make you feel – do you get nervous butterflies in your stomach from them? Do you lose yourself in the amber depths, getting lost in the way he gazes at you with such ardent adoration and lust?

Gyutaro is needy, really, and you’ll very quickly learn this. It takes a while for him to allow himself to touch you (he’s nervous at first, though he’d never ever admit it – he’s killed and injured too many, never having known how to be gentle and loving, and the thought of accidentally hurting you has him scratching at his face and chest, agony blooming in his heart), but once he crosses that mental barrier, he’s suddenly never taking his hands off of you.

The touches are small at first – a hand at your cheek while his thumb traces your cheekbone, the sharp nail unbearably close to your eye as you stay as still as you possibly can. He’ll run his fingers over your hair, the texture growing familiar as that strange, dazed look overtakes his features.

He’ll try to have you in his arms as often as he possibly can, whether that’s leaning over your body while you stand before him, or forcing you to sit in his lap as he runs a finger up and down your spine, marveling at how soft and warm and pliant you feel in his grasp.

(You’ll be able to tell he’s in awe, too, because there’s always something hard pressing against your lower back and the breaths he wheezes into your ear are strained and uneven and gaspy.)

He grows a penchant for simply watching you, his eyes fixed on your form as you bite your lip and shiver, the freezing temperatures of Daki’s lair making your skin burst into goosebumps.

He’ll occasionally bring back human items; you’ve woken up to a ratty woolen blanket covering your form before, a thin pillow under your head while Gyutaro’s face peers at you from a mere foot away, his own body lying down beside yours. You’re sure he was watching you sleep – as he often does – but you can’t deny the warmth the blanket offers you, and you’ll even whisper with a soft voice, thank you, Gyutaro.

(You hadn’t been aware previously to him that demons could blush, but the soft pink that envelopes his cheeks is difficult to ignore, as is the way he warbles and rolls over to face away from you, curling in on himself and violently scratching at his chest, the embarrassment and influx of something warm and sweet and good in his heart making it hard to look at you.)

Generally, Gyutaro’s main goal is to always be around you, whether that’s being in the same room, you in his arms, or simply just staring from aware.

He’s needy, absolutely desperate for you to acknowledge him and validate every insecurity still left over from his time as a human, and while he doesn’t believe you most of the time, it’s still euphoric to hear. So please, please tell him you love the way he holds you so delicately and carefully. (Don’t mention the way his protruding bones dig into your skin, causing your discomfort and making it hard to spend the hours laying with him that he wants.)

Tell him that you enjoy the way he says your name, that it sounds sweet and romantic and loving. (The odd lilt that sounds just a bit too much like a moan isn’t important, of course, nor is the way you sometimes see his eyes roll back just slightly, as if the mere thought of you is enough to get his knees weak and blood rushing south. It is, but again, it’s not important.)

Tell him that you wish he’d be with you forever, that you’ll never leave his side. (And when you’re forced to drink Muzan’s blood – and Gyutaro’s, too, because he wants to feel more connected to you - and you become a demon, don’t be surprised when he says with a gleeful smile that now we can truly be together, stuck with me for all eternity, clutching onto you with all the force and strength he’s been yearning to for months.)

He just loves you, or as much as a demon can, so just take it, yeah?

Protective

Once his feelings for you begin to form, the residual urge to protect Ume that resided within his human self comes into play.

Of course, he still protects and prioritizes Daki’s safety, but you’re equally as important to him, just in a different way. With Daki, it’s about survival – he cannot live without her, and she cannot live without him. They’re siblings, bonded by something deep and intangible, something that can never be broken.

But you?

Oh, it’s different with you – you’re something he wants to protect, his own sweet, naïve little human that he gets to keep as his own for all eternity. He wants to keep you pristine and healthy and detached from the vile, horrible human world, because he wants to feel like your protector, to feel like you need him, like you wouldn’t be alive today without him stopping all sorts of threats.

(He’s the only real threat facing you, of course, but it’s not like that – of course not, because he loves you, and why would he ever hurt you? He’s already decided not to eat you, so why do you still seem so uncomfortable around him, always flinching away from him or breathing hard when he comes near you?)

Despite his mantra of balancing the inequalities of misfortune he’s had to endure, he sees you as his sole light. You’re the only thing he’s been given by the heavens, and how could he squander the only good thing he’s ever had?

The prospect of you dying or becoming horribly injured makes his eye twitch and his fingers grasp onto his scythes so tightly that his knuckles turn white, his bloodlust palpable in the air. And so, Gyutaro takes your safety very, very seriously.

He himself only eats human flesh, but he knows (begrudgingly), that you won’t partake in this particular diet, so he scrounges up stolen food from the various shops in the district. He’s not quite sure what all you like, and he’d never gotten the opportunity to try most foods when he was a human, so he relies solely on smell to guide his food picking.

 Everything he brings back is either extremely healthy (earthy materials with a residue of dirt on them, likely pulled directly from the ground out of someone’s home garden), or extremely unhealthy (boxes of pickled candies with minimal nutritional value).

He doesn’t remember what humans need in order to survive, so while the constant supply of food is good, the food itself is not.

And yet, there’s something oddly endearing about the way he watches while biting his lip (his sharp teeth drawing blood along with the nails that scratch at his biceps), eyes trained on you as you chew and swallow, watching every movement like a hawk. He’s so focused, the nervous question of do you like it rolling off his tongue before he can help himself, shame eating away at him because he sounds so damn pathetic. He’ll watch you eat, making sure you don’t choke, with his fingers shaking slightly as he holds himself back from reaching out to touch you, to make sure you’re real.

He’s always asking you if you’re feeling good, hoping that you don’t fall ill, because he remembers nothing of human medicine and he can’t exactly take you to a doctor with his condition.

And while his protectiveness in terms of your needs as his captee are admirable for a man-eating monster, the level at which he obsesses over your safety in other ways is less than ideal.

He’s so, so scared of you harming yourself that he does nearly everything for you. He’ll call you weak as he helps you bathe, his hands running over your naked skin with strokes that are much slower than they need to be, but he doesn’t mean what he says.

(You’re not even sure he's aware of what he’s saying – the way his eyes bulge out of his head every time he sees your bare ass tells you as much, as does the way his breathing gradually picks up as he bathes you, uneven breaths turning into labored pants until it reaches a fever pitch and oh – was that a moan of your name?)

He’ll tell you that you’re pathetic for needing his help walking around the lair, though you very much never asked for his assistance; nonetheless, his arms wrap under your armpits regardless, helping ease some of your weight off of your knees, the lack of exercise you receive from staying underground all day long making your muscles tired and weakened.

He’s condescending, really, though it’s painfully obvious he doesn’t mean to be. There’s malice in his eyes when he tells you these things, though you’ve learned he always has malice in his eyes, so is it really aimed towards you?

If he really hated humans and the blessed as much as he claims, would his grip on your delicate skin be as gentle as it is? You don’t think so, and while it hurts to be called weak and incapable every day, his insistence on helping you with the most trivial of tasks tells you that he cares about you more than he’s willing to admit.

And – heaven forbid – if you were to ever be in danger from another man?

Well, Gyutaro’s never enjoyed a kill so much, even against pesky Hashira. Because when he eventually tears out the man’s eyeballs, his teeth bared as he growls and groans at the fresh corpse, obliterating the body in a more graphic and violent way than usual, Gyutaro can’t help but feel smug because he saved you, he made sure this vile excuse for a life never laid a hand upon you.

And if it’s another demon that’s threatening you? Gyutaro’s an Upper Rank for a reason, and while this battle is significantly more terrifying for you to watch, he's torturing the demon as slowly and painfully as he possibly can with two main goals in mind.

Firstly, he’s making a point to the other creature, showing him that only he can lay eyes upon you, and only he can have and hold you.

And the other reason? Well, he can’t deny the way his heart races when you praise him for his power, telling him he’s so strong, I – I feel safe with you, Gyutaro…

He feels needed when he protects you, and so your best course of action is really to just let him baby you. Daki and you both might hate it, but Gyutaro needs to take care of you – he needs to hear you praise him and thank him for his hard work, and with every compliment that slips from your lips he only grows more and more obsessed. 

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Quite honestly, the likelihood of anyone else giving you the attention or time of day that Gyutaro is afraid of is extremely low.

The only people you’ll really ever see are himself and Daki; your lone companions for the rest of your life. Being kept hostage in Daki’s underground lair makes it very, very difficult for you to receive visitors, and unless you’re able to crawl at a steep upwards incline for miles through tunnels, you have very little hope of ever escaping. Consequently, the chances of you ever interacting with someone that could spark jealousy within Gyutaro while you’re under his thumb is very low.

But that’s the key part – while you’re under his thumb. He doesn’t act on his obsession very quickly, instead preferring to simply stalk you for months on end, watching and observing and letting his feelings fester, growing stronger and stronger until they eventually bubble over and he can’t not be with you at all hours of the day.

But that period of a few months between his feelings for you forming and when he eventually steals you away are wrought with jealousy and frustration on his end. He’s constantly, constantly paranoid that another man will come and sweep you off your feet, that you’ll fall head over heels for some lowly human man, that your heart will be stolen and possessed by some weak, pitiful human that doesn’t even deserve you.

(Not that he feels he deserves you either, but it’s different for Gyutaro – at least he can protect you, at least he can keep you safe. What can this man do? What could he possibly offer you, aside from perhaps a more pleasant face?)

He’s monumentally terrified of you ever finding someone else to love, the prospect of you leaving him behind, your feelings (whatever they may be) for him withering away into nothing while another man holds your attention and love being more painful to him than anything else he could ever imagine.

He doesn’t want to lose the feelings you give him, so he resigns himself to knowing he has to do something to stop all these men from potentially stealing you from him. He doesn’t like how weak this all makes him feel, the paranoia churning in his gut and forcing him to act in ways he'd never expected to, ways that disgust him, ways that embarrass him when Daki asks why the hell he seems to be going so far for some stupid human woman.

He’s never even totally sure himself, only guided by the knowledge that he has to keep you his, that he can never go back to his life before you wandered into it. All he knows is that when he hears your voice (so pretty and sweet, something he could listen to for hours if you’d let him) accompanied by a more masculine, male one, he’s seeing fucking red.

He’s never felt this angry before; Hashira have come and gone, made his sister cry and landed a few good hits on him, but he’s genuinely enraged in that moment, honestly livid at what’s happening right before him.

The idea that you could be talking to another man haunts him from that night forward, the jealousy brewing in his gut difficult to identify but horrible to harbor. Gyutaro gets jealous extremely easy during this time period between the formation of his feelings and eventually kidnapping you; he’s so terrified of another man grabbing your attention, and can he honestly be blamed?

He’s a monster, and his self esteem is so low that he’s sure every other living being on the planet is more attractive than him – so why would you ever choose him?

Gyutaro gets very, very angry when jealous.

He’s naturally quick to kill, but in the context of him being fearful of your attention wavering from him, he’s even more trigger happy. He’ll kill without a second thought, slashing at the heads of any man he thinks has even the merest idea of potentially pursuing you.

So when he’s coming back from a kill one night, with blood already staining his fingers and his stomach full, the last thing he expects to hear is your voice. He’d hated having to leave you alone; normally, he’s following you like a shadow, never more than a few feet behind you, following your every move and staying with you for hours on end.

You’ve never really noticed, as his skills of deception and hiding are high, and being this far away from you for a few hours has taken its toll on him. He’s exhausted, and every muscle in his body is taut and alert – ready to see you, to smell your now familiar scent and gaze at your beauty in whatever working kimono you were wearing this evening.

However, your voice brings him out of that reverie – you’re laughing. And so is the man you’re with. Immediately, Gyutaro’s face twists into an ugly scowl, his claws scratching at his cheeks and chest as he begins muttering under his breath, trying to pinpoint where the sound of your voices is coming from. He growls as he finally decides on the direction, before sprinting off, already arming himself with his sickles.

His shoulders are more hunched than usual when he lands on the balcony of the room you’re currently in, the man in question sitting across from you over a small table. Gyutaro’s eye twitches, his gaze raking over the man in question. He’s tall, he can tell; a brunette with soft hazel eyes, his physique decent underneath the black robes he wears. Immediately Gyutaro finds himself hating him even more – he looks rich, happy, handsome.

For a moment Gyutaro is frozen, simply watching the scene play out with wide, panicked eyes, his pulse racing dangerously, before the man’s reaching hand caressing yours over the table snaps him out of his daze. He growls lowly, charging into the room as quickly as he can and snatching the man into his arms, thrusting him outside and disappearing before you have a chance to register what just happened, everything happening in the blink of an eye.

As he runs through the crowded, loud backstreets of the Entertainment District out to somewhere more private where he can probably dispose of this scum, he hopes that he was fast enough that you didn’t catch a glimpse of him. He’d heard your confused calls of what he assumed to be the man’s name, but that only made him angrier, his steps faster and faster as he neared the woods.

Soon he’s surrounded by trees, their shade darkening his body, only allowing his eyes to illuminate. Gyutaro throws the man to the ground, the dirt of the forest surely staining his robes an ugly brown color. The man hacks as he touched the ground, the force knocking the air out of his lungs, but Gyutaro doesn’t wait.

No, instead he throws the man against a nearby tree with a scythe, the sound of cracking making a wide, gleeful smile cross his features. The man’s back is broken, surely, but it’s not enough.

You think you’re special, don’t you?

He warbles, eyes narrowing while the smile stays spread across his lips. The anger in his veins is so potent that it forces him to take staggering steps, his mind too hyper focused on killing this man to walk properly.

You think you can have any woman you want, don’t you?

The man gasps something, though his body isn’t moving from where the scythe has him pinned against the bark.

Gyutaro spits at him, a glob of saliva landing on the man’s cheek.

I may be the repulsive one, but you’re pretty pathetic too, huh? Letting someone as ugly as me kill and devour you…

Gyutaro cuts himself off with a giggle, his fingers once again coming up to scratch at his face and neck.

Then I’ll make you suffer… you’ll watch as I feast on your flesh.

And with that he charges forward, his fingers wrapping around the man’s forearm and pulling, hard, the resounding sound of tearing flesh making him grin. As he brings the severed arm up to his mouth, blood streaming down his arm, Gyutaro can only shake, the thought of eating the man that dared touch you and steal your attention making a strange sort of euphoria dance through his veins. Not a piece of the man is left by the time Gyutaro is done an hour later, his stomach sated as he scowls down at the bloodstains left by the stranger.

(He’d paid special attention to truly savor and enjoy the hand that had touched you – licking at the skin, a moan tumbling from his lips because this is the closest he’s ever gotten to touching you himself, and even if it was the disgusting man’s arm, the experience was still intimate, sweet, enough to force him to have to lean against the nearest tree so as not to fall to his knees when they buckle.)

He spits once more at the ground, cursing the human, before sprinting off to the room you’d been in, hoping with everything he has that you’d still be there.

Maybe he could watch you for a while; you always looked prettiest when you were unaware, and maybe you’d even fall asleep so he could come closer, so he could smell you, touch you ever so lightly, listen to the way your heartbeat beats again, and again, and again…

The rage subsides slowly as he places himself outside the window of your home in the House, his harsh breathing slowly returning to normal, until a light pink flush coats his cheek and he coos your name, wishing you’d turn around and smile at him, that you’d cup his face and tell him I love you Gyutaro, no one but you.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Because Gyutaro’s feelings for you take a while to accumulate (mostly through watching you while he’s dormant inside of Daki, or stalking you from the shadows as he grows more and more fascinated with you), he’ll slowly come to the conclusion that you can’t be left alone.

He discovers he fucking hates not having you next to him; you’re the one thing he looks forward to every day.

Seeing your smile ignites this odd sense of happiness inside his chest, a feeling he’s not sure he’s ever experienced before.

His fingers shake when he’s around you; nerves eating him alive, because as desperately as he wants you to give him attention, he’s also terrified you’ll find yourself repulsed by him, that he’ll do something that causes you to hate him or be afraid of him.

He needs your focus on him, but he’s just so, so scared that you’ll reject him – which, in combination with his jealousy, leads Gyutaro to an odd dilemma.

On the one hand, he always, always wants your presence near him – you’re like his drug, the one he’s hopelessly and happily addicted to, and to be without you would mean death to both the small grains of humanity still within him, and any sense of self he possesses.

And on the other hand, he’s terrified that you’ll find someone better than him, that you’ll replace him and leave him in the dust behind you, heartbroken and enraged that you’re gone.

And so, he does the only thing he can think to do – if he’s afraid of losing you and your gorgeous, bright smile aimed at him, then taking you before you can leave is the only solution.

He’s not particularly regretful about stealing you away from your life; you didn’t love the world you were in, he knows that. He knows that despite now being stuck with a grotesque monster, you’re in a better place now.

Because despite his flaws (both internally and externally), the one thing that Gyutaro can do better than any other man on Earth is protect you. He’s strong, capable, destructive, and thoroughly able to take care of you.

Thus, don’t you belong fully under his protection, where the world can get at you (and you can’t get at it)?

Gyutaro believes so, and stealing you away not only keeps other men away from you, but now you’re fully his. Daki’s lair is empty most of the time anyways, and maybe in the dimness you won’t see Gyutaro very clearly.

Maybe then the compliments that come from your lips will feel more real – and maybe then, Gyutaro can will himself to believe that you mean it when you say you don’t think he’s ugly, simply special. 

Of course, Gyutaro is a demon. He’s by no means an ideal captor – he’s only marginally aware of what humans need in order to survive, and despite his intense devotion to you, he’s not fully changing his personality just because of your presence.

He becomes much softer around you; less harsh around the edges, more like a nervous teenage boy because fuck does he want to impress you.

He doesn’t want you to be disappointed in him, so he tries his absolute best to keep you comfortable and happy, though he isn’t always successful. He doesn’t fully understand that insects and scraps of food from various shops in the district aren’t your preferred meal, but don’t mention it to him. He doesn’t realize that the one kimono he’d stolen you away in has grown to be caked in mud and dirt since you’ve been ‘living’ in this lair of his, but you won’t say anything out of fear that the alternative is wearing nothing.

Don’t ever say anything even somewhat negative to him about his actions; he’s extremely sensitive, and one small critique of him in any way has him caving in on himself, scratching at every inch of his skin as warbles away about how you don’t love him, you’re lying to him, how he knew there was no way you could love such a disgusting monster.

 He’ll close himself off, the anger and hurt making his head spin, and after a long few minutes of him wallowing in his self pity, he’s suddenly up, staring at you with wide yellow eyes and a tear or two, his hands shaking as he lunges at you.

However, while he’s somewhat stand-offish at the start of your captivity, he slowly warms up to you.

Mostly, he’s just terrified that you’ll confirm all of the insecurities he possesses; he’d die if you were to call him ugly, his heart cracking into a million little pieces while tears well in his eyes and his lips spread into an ugly sneer, bitterly telling you he knew it, I knew a spoiled whore like you could never love a monster like me.

Of course, you know well enough not to do that (you’ve seen Daki and him smeared with blood too many times to fear how they’d deal with your resistance), but the fear is very present in his heart.

He’s always nervous you’ll turn back on your compliments, that your sweet words and touches are born out of trying to trick him into being falsely secure, then tearing the rug out from under him, leaving him a shell of what’s left of himself.

However, as you don’t morph into the monster he secretly half-hopes you’ll become, Gyutaro slowly grows more trusting of you, more believing of your kind words.

He starts touching you softly – his fingers brushing over your skin, over the fabric of your kimonos. He’ll throw an occasional smile at you under the guise of being teasing, though despite the stinging, rude comment he likely uttered, the quirk of his lips looks strangely genuine.

Eventually, he’ll allow himself to hug you, your softer body against his making his knees feel weak, his heart leaping up to his throat.

And as his physicality grows more lenient with you, as do his words – instead of only teasing, crude remarks made towards you, he slowly begins complimenting you as well. He’s used to hiding behind his mean words as a defense mechanism, but when you’re looking up at him with your watery, scared eyes, how can he call you a pathetic excuse for a human?

You’re beautiful; every imperfection and blemish on your body is gorgeous to him, and how could he ever make you feel terrible about yourself?

And so, instead of telling you that you’re really pretty sad, you know? Laying on the ground scared like a worm, a poor excuse he’ll instead say you have some dirt on your cheek, you’re so messy.

It’s not that much better, but as time passes his words slowly grow less harsh and more appreciative, until he’s pulling you close one night and whispering into your ear that he thinks he loves you, that he needs you, don’t ever leave me alone, I can’t live without you.

Aside from the way he acts around you, your living conditions will be painfully unchanging. You’ve been relocated to Daki’s lair, deep underground. A few lamps were brought in by Gyutaro so that you could see, the warm light making you feel slightly better as the chill of underground seeps into your bones.

He’s collected a number of human items for you in an attempt to get you feeling more at home; a collection of blankets sits at the end of your futon, a makeshift pillow sitting on the other end. A few novels have been delivered to you, and while you’re not a particular fan of any of the genres present, you’ve read them cover to cover more times than you can count during your time with Gyutaro.

He brings you human foods (though they’re marginally considered food), and he’s placed an instrument he stole from the House down there as well, as entertainment for when he can’t be with you.

(When he’d brought the instrument, he’d set it down in front of you and scampered back, his shoulders hunched in slightly, nervously glancing at you as you appraised his gift, his heart racing wildly because do you like it? Are you happy he thought of you and stole this for you? Are you appreciative? Will you give him a kiss as a thank you?)

Daki is hardly ever around, and while her belt can be annoying when it speaks, a quick conversation with Gyutaro about not bothering you had Daki reluctantly relenting to keeping her belt mute, only furthering her irritation with you.

Gyutaro is always in the lair with you unless he’s directly needed by Daki, or to feed. As such, you’d better be prepared to constantly be stared at, watched, poked and prodded, your sleeping body waking up to a different position than the one you fell asleep in, nail marks still imprinted on your skin.

Gyutaro just really, really likes having you in close contact, and while he knows you likely aren’t extremely pleased by your forced relocation, isn’t this better?

Because now you’re safe – with him, where he can keep every man and demon away from you, keeping you selfishly all for him. 

PUNISHMENTS:

As a captor, Gyutaro is a delicate balance of gentleness and abrasiveness.

Of course, he’s a demon. He’s naturally violent, crunching human flesh between his teeth often, and the strength in just his pinky is more than every muscle in your body combined.

And as a demon, his temper is rocky, at best. He’s extremely temperamental, and it takes little to nothing to set off his anger.

When it comes to you, he’s marginally more in control, but for the most part you need to exercise extreme caution once you’re in his captivity.

Gyutaro isn’t the best communicator, which often times lands you in the unfortunate position of having to guess what makes him mad; you’ve built a list as time goes on, mentally noting any time he seems to get agitated, when he starts scratching more at his neck or his voice gets tight and curt. The list is vivid in your mind, something you diligently avoid bringing up in conversation or doing, if only because you’re still terrified that one day it’ll be your blood staining his teeth or splattered across the metal of those scythes he carries.

And the list is long – he’s easy to set off, whether it’s from mentioning the name of another man, or even just slightly flinching when his hands begin travelling all over your body, his breath ragged and deep.

But you’ve found, through experience, that there are three things he tolerates the worst, one of which being any mention of your past life before meeting him and Daki.

It’s not that he’s not interested in knowing about your hobbies and the people you knew (and, frankly, all that stalking makes you having any habits he’s not aware of extremely unlikely), but rather that he gest so, so jealous when you talk about former friends or important people in your life.

It pisses him off to hear you talk so familiarly about anyone that isn’t him, and each jealous thought is immediately followed up by worries about what they do better than him, if they’re more attractive (he’s sure they are), and just how much better than him they must be.

He’ll also get upset if you mention anything about wanting to escape or leave the lair. He takes it as a sign that you’re not happy here, with him, that you don’t think he’s doing a good enough job of taking care of you.

And lastly, while he knows you’re stuck with a demon like him and are understandably terrified, he doesn’t tolerate your nervous twitches and flinches when he comes near you, or your hurtful words insulting him in any way.

He views it as you rejecting him and his presence, and that’s a sure fire way to find letting a deep scowl settle across his features, his fingers tugging at his hair while he runs off to find some human to kill and feast upon to release his anger.

It’s easy to set him off, yes, but while Gyutaro is by no means gentle, he won’t often actually physically harm you.

He might, potentially, begrudgingly, to prove a point, but the worst he’ll do is break an arm or a finger, something to scare you but not actually threaten your life. And even then, this will take a huge amount of anger on his part to actually follow through on. He’s still hesitant to hurt you in any way, too afraid he’ll accidentally lose control of his strength and kill you, and so frankly these situations are often just as painful for him as it is you.

He avoids these physical punishments, though, unless he absolutely has no other choice – but as a general rule, a twisted arm or swollen joint isn’t the repercussions that await you when you anger him.

No, instead Gyutaro does something much worse – his punishments aren’t planned, purely emotional outbursts that end up warping your view of him, damaging your perception of reality until you’re so unsure of how you real feel or what he really is that you’ll blindly cling to him, the Stockholm Syndrome festering and growing until you become just as dependent on him as he is you.

Generally, any negative comments towards him set him off, but any comments specifically referencing his appearance will bring out a very specific type of rage, and this particular brand of anger is very, very scary.

What makes it so dangerous is that Gyutaro is not only pissed, angry, livid, he’s also incredibly hurt. He hates allowing himself to believe your kind compliments and words, but every once in a while he’ll let them settle in, letting hope bloom in his chest that maybe you mean it.

(He’ll delude himself into believing that you really like his eyes, or that you think his facial birthmarks are endearing, that you aren’t just saying that so he won’t kill you. And it makes him feel good, a sense of belonging and bashfulness making him struggle to meet your gaze and instead tug at your kimono and ask you to say it again and again and again, committing the sound of such sweet words coming from your lips to his memory.)

And the main reason for his anger when you lash out and call him hideous is because he should have known.

It’s a slap in the face – how could he have allowed himself to be so foolish and naïve? How could he have allowed himself to get comfortable, to forget his cursed appearance, to forget that he’s a monster in every sense of the word?

He’s frustrated at himself for not seeing this coming; there’s no way you’d ever like someone like him, and it was stupid of him to even entertain the notion that you don’t see him as a grotesque, terrifying predator.

And so, as the words slip past your lips, he’s immediately freezing, his shoulders going slack and his jaw hanging open slightly. Don’t touch me, you monster!

The lair is eerily silent for a few moments, your words processing in his mind as he stares at you, the only sound filling your ears being your own heavy, nervous breaths.

But soon a small, nearly breathless giggle echoes in your ears, the sound making you suck in a sharp breath. The chuckle soon turns into quiet laughter, rising in pitch and volume until Gyutaro is cackling, his voice cracking and hiccupping as his eyes go wide, his hands scratching welts so deeply into his sides that it almost concerns you.

His whole body is shaking, shoulders violently jumping up and down at the force of his maniacal laughter, but eventually it subsides, his hair hanging forward to cover his face.

Do you think that I’m a monster? You think I’m a freak, huh?

His voice is more unsteady than normal, you note with a sense of fear. He tilts his head up slightly, peeking at you from underneath his bangs, his lips pulled into some mixture of a grimace and a grin, the sight making a shiver crawl down your spine. It’s only now that you notice his eyes are red rimmed, his cheeks wet, as if he’d been laughing so hard he was crying – or, perhaps, he really was crying.

Huh? Answer me, dammit!

He’s screaming now, the grimace getting tighter. He takes a step forward, and you shuffle backwards, scooting the backside of your kimono across the dirt as you shuffle back against the wall, trying to get as much space between the two of you as possible.

Answer me, you bitch!

You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper out a n-no, but that only makes him angrier, taking another step forward, the sound of his foot crunching against the dirt making you sob.

You’re a liar! A filthy, disgusting liar!

His words hurt, though you can’t explain why. They make you flinch, your hands balling into fists as you bring your knees up to your chest, trying to become as small as possible as he takes another few steps towards you.

You’re nothing without me! He’s screeching now, his voice unbareably high, raw emotion shining through as the words start tumbling from his lips. You’d be dead without me! Imagine that? Something as beautiful as you needing a monster like me to keep you from getting devoured by some demon or some human. You’re pathetic, are you ashamed of yourself?

You’re crying now, fat, ugly tears streaming down your cheeks, but he’s too blinded by his rage to notice.

Does it make you feel good to think you’re better than me? Does it make you feel important? You’re a liar! How dare you do this? How dare you lie to me and tell me that you love me, when you just think I’m ugly and horrible!

His voice is close now, too close, and as you peel open your watery eyes, you see his own yellow ones mere inches from your face. His teeth are bared, every muscle in his neck and chest flexing as he struggles to stop himself from reaching out and clawing at your face, destroying your face until he can no longer recognize you.

You’re speaking before you can help yourself, fear and panic and a cold, gripping sense of regret climbing into your throat.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I don’t think you’re a monster, I’m just – I’m just scared Gyutaro! I’m scared of how you make me feel! I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me, please…

You cut yourself off with a sob, fingers digging into your palms, and as you close your eyes and wait for something to happen, all you’ll be met with is the sound of a gulp, his breath still huffing against your skin. It’s silent for a few moments, before you brave a peek to look at him.

His eyes are wide, the yellow bright and still tinged with red as he stares at you. His chest is heaving, breaths falling heavily, and he’s biting his lip. Blood wells up against the wound, but he doesn’t seem to notice. No, he’s staring too intensely at you to notice anything.

Scared of how I make you feel? He questions, moving a few centimeters closer to you.

You nod shakily, swallowing down as much fear as you can manage as you whisper out that he makes you feel wanted, in a way I’ve never felt before, and I don’t know how to deal with that. I want to hate you, but I can’t.

He makes a sound then, like a wounded puppy, deep in his throat as his brows quirk up. Something in his stomach twists, a pleasant feeling settling at the base of his ribs.

You can’t hate me? You can’t despise me?

You nod, biting your lip, and Gyutaro stares at you for a few moments, before his arms are suddenly wrapping around your waist, his body closing the distance as he pins you against the wall, his face buried into your neck and his waist worming its way between your thighs.

You love me, you love me.

He’s chanting against your chin, a bit of his saliva getting onto your neck. His grip on you is tight, soffucating even, making it difficult to breath. He doesn’t seem to notice, though, and with a small, unsure swallow, you try your best to rub at any skin of his that’s available, soft petting motions that make another little whimper muffle against you.

You love me you love me you love me you love me –

It’s a mantra, like he’s trying to convince himself, but as he spends a good forty minutes repeating this to himself, keeping you trapped in his arms against the dirt wall, you’ll find yourself wondering if he’s really even lying – do you love him?

You hadn’t been lying when you said you aren’t able to hate him. He’s a monster and has killed countless people, kidnapped you, keeping you locked up and always touching you and forcing you to look at him, but do you love him?

Maybe you do, because as you find yourself relaxing into his arms, finding comfort in the feeling of his hot warm breath against your skin, you almost feel at ease. Maybe it’s survival instincts, maybe it’s something else – it doesn’t matter though, does it?

Because you’re stuck with him, and he’ll never, ever let you go.

OVERALL DANGER:

9/10

Gyutaro is less dangerous to you and more dangerous to those around you.

He’s by all accounts shy in the beginning of his obsession with you – stalking you relentlessly from the shadows, watching and waiting and never leaving your side for even a moment, content to simply see you as you smile and sleep and live your life.

He won’t ever hurt you – at least, not often – and in fact protects you to a fanatical degree, but the same can’t be said for the other people in your life.

He’s very, very willing to eliminate anyone he deems as competition for your attention and love, enjoying devouring them and ending their miserable lives in the most painful, drawn-out way possible. He views himself as your protector, watching from the shadows and acting as your twisted guardian angel, until suddenly it’s not enough – he needs more.

He needs to have you looking at him, acknowledging him, your pretty voice saying his name and your soft hands on his calloused, rough skin.

He needs to have you fall asleep in his arms, your breathing even and steady and so very precarious, your unaware and vulnerable state making him lick his lips and slowly, carefully, timidly press a clumsy kiss against your lips, immediately pulling back with pink tinged cheeks because oh, he wasn’t expecting your lips to be so soft and warm.

If you can look past the kidnapping, murder and invasions of your privacy, Gyutaro is honestly not the worst – he’s temperamental and difficult to handle with all of his triggers, but if you can find yourself balancing and managing to placate him, life with him won’t be too terrible.

He'll care for you as best as he knows how, keep you company whenever he can, drown you in physical affection once he musters up the courage, and over time his harsh comments will eventually morph into honest, genuine compliments about things so specific that you’ll feel seen, understood, perhaps even loved.

 Because while Gyutaro may be rough around the edges and difficult to understand, he really does love you in some twisted, fucked up way – and if you’re to be stuck with him for the rest of your life, isn’t it better that you accept it?

Wouldn’t it just be easier for both of you to let him hold you, to whisper to him that you’re happy with him?

Just accept your fate – you’ll be much, much happier that way. 

[rallentando1011]

Valentine’s Day With Donnie

(rise Donnie x gn reader)

Saint Valentine’s Day: a fickle holiday that celebrates even more fickle emotions, a day that forces the formation of many a precarious bond that statistically would not last

At least, that’s how Donnie saw it for the entirety of his life

Until you came along

Now, don’t get him wrong, he still thinks it’s stupid, but maybe something could be stupid and enjoyable

He means, he enjoys his brothers’ company, right? (/j… maybe /hj)

Either way, for you, he doesn’t mind giving Valentine’s Day a genuine go

So, when you come over on the holiday, Donnie’s ready

“As you know, I think Valentine’s Day is an example of rampant consumerism devouring the meaning behind holidays and people’s wallets, but there is something special about a day in which one can express their admiration for each other.”

“Wait… you got me something?”

“Correction: I made you something.”

The man proceeds to hand you a new phone, the insignia on it implying it was made, or at least modified, by his hand

You’d been complaining mentioning that you needed one that actually works

You smile and thank him eagerly

“It’s fine if you don’t have anything, I wasn’t really expecting-”

“Au contraire, Don, I made you something too!”

He looks baffled for about 20 seconds as you hand him a small gift bag containing red velvet macarons, lavender tea bags, a small, smooth rose quartz, a miniature turtle plushie

“Well, me and Mikey made the macarons together. Gotta give credit where credit is due.”

He barely registers your comment, too absolutely enamored by your consideration of him

Donnie doesn’t know where his mind is at, but it definitely isn’t in this solar system, perhaps not even the surrounding stellar systems

Bottom line, bro’s ecstatic

The huge grin on his face and brightness in his eyes effectively gets his point across

Not only did he give a heartfelt gift, he received one?

Okay, maybe this Valentine’s Day had something to it

Watching rom-coms solely to trash on them is a mandatory tradition

Every other Valentine’s Day he’s spent by his lonesome has mostly consisted of hours of mercilessly ragging on romantic comedies

Yep, definitely just to criticize them

No sadness and/or yearning involved

But now, with your company?

He’s still criticizing the ever-loving heck out of those movies

If you genuinely enjoy rom-coms, be prepared for this little pessimist to rain on your parade, grumbling questions of the logic and flow of the film

However, if you, too, find them stupid, you’ve found yourself the perfect, cynical viewing buddy

“You can tell just from the cinematography of that one guy catching her that he’s the secondary love interest.”

“I swear on Galileo’s heliocentric model itself- how many love interests can one main character have?”

“I think that’s the challenge that was going on in the writer’s room - to see how many variations of a love triangle they could make.”

“The challenge in the writer’s room was that they had too many people slamming on keyboards, yet none of them wrote Shakespeare.”

“Was that an infinite monkey theorem allusion?”

“And a simultaneous dig on the foul writing - zing!”

Following the festivities of movie-binging and gift-giving, he turns to you with a rather uncharacteristic diffidence in his demeanor

Glance askance, slight perspiration on his forehead, fidgeting hands, stammering words

As you start to ask what’s wrong, Donnie quickly, almost unintelligibly so, asks if you want to dance

If you feel so inclined, you nod, take his hand, and offer a dance

If Sinatra is playing (Nancy or Frank or both), you know some slow dancing is going down

Bill Withers or Kitty Kallen, maybe even Dean Martin, something classic, whispering in the background, a hand or two on your hips, yours on his shoulders, chins tucked cozily on the crook of each other’s neck or crown of the head, just the two of you gently swaying together to the rhythm sounds perfect

Normally when he dances, it’s fast-paced boogie or groove (he didn’t get the name Bootyshaker9000 for nothing), but for today, for you, he’ll keep the dancing slow, smooth, sweet

Keeping you close and spending time with you has certainly made this his favorite Valentine’s Day thus far

The macarons you gave him also significantly improved his verdict

(Happy Valentine’s Day gang ‼️ HERE are some accompanying sketches with this!)

[theaudacitytowrite]

Stay Awake! - Part 1

Materlist

Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

A/N: An attempt at a spooky fic:) This is based on a creepy story my siblings used to tell me when we were little and back then it scared the shit out of me. Whether it really is scary is debatable^^

Time wise it starts a day before Halloween.

Also, since I only started watching SPN (on S4 currently) I'm quite sure this might be a bit off timeline wise. For example I needed an animal for the story but I have no idea when/how long Mircale is around in the series.

warnings: dolls, cursing, implied smut, bad horror (Season 1-esque storyline), Canon? What's that?

Golden divider = new day

black dividers = new setting/some time has passed

word count: 5.891

Dean’s feet lazily dragged over the ground. He groaned and huffed, sometimes a yawn would leave his throat.

„Come on, big boy. Let’s try it here.” you dragged him behind you while holding his hand so he would actually follow you.

You stepped up to the bed and breakfast, a rustic little single-family house. Dean and you were in desperate need of a place to stay the night. You had just finished a gruelling hunt and were beyond exhausted. But so far you hadn’t had any luck. All the motels in the area were booked.

“We can just sleep in Baby,” Dean muttered groggily.

“So you can whine about your sore back for the next couple of days?” you looked over your shoulder to look at him with a raised brow, “No thanks.”

"I wanna go home! My feet hurt, my back aches already and I'm tired! We've been on our feet the past 3 days!" he whined, pouting like a little overtired child.

“I know, my feet hurt just as bad and I’ve been awake just as long as you, you little baby.” you teased, “And I want to go home, too, but I don’t think it would be a good idea to drive another 5 hours to get home, while you nor I can keep our eyes open.” Dean grumbled but seemed to follow you more willingly now as he heard your reasoning.

When you entered the B&B a foul smell made its way to your nose immediately. It was sweet yet sour at the same time. You were surrounded by weird-looking paintings, figurines, and a collection of creepy dolls. It was quite dusty and weirdly gloomy in the house, and something just didn't feel right.

"Since when are bed and breakfasts worse than motels?" Dean muttered into your ear as he tried to not touch anything while walking through the small, crammed foyer to head to the unoccupied front desk.

"I don't know. We rarely visit bed and breakfasts." you shrugged as you let your gaze wander through the odd room. Dean scrunched his nose and almost pressed himself against you as he followed you like a shadow.

"Something wrong?" you glanced at him with an amused look.

"Nah." he shook his head and took a step back, "Just hurry up and ring the bell, so we can leave again."

“Leave again? You don’t think they have any vacant rooms?” you chuckled, “You’re so pessimistic.”

“I hope they have no free rooms.” Dean huffed.

"We have to tell Sam about this cosy little B&B. He'll love it here!" you snickered as your eyes roamed over the décor.

"He sure would…" Dean pressed his lips together, trying to breathe as little as possible. He bumped into you when you suddenly halted your steps, your gaze fixed on the fireplace in the next room.

"Do you see that doll?" you pointed in the direction of the fireplace. On top of it sat a little wooden doll with a rancid-looking dress. What caught your attention was, besides her size of an actual baby, her fluent movements. The doll seemed to wave in your direction, a wide grin plastered on her face.

"You mean that spawn of hell that creepily waves at us?" Dean dryly asked.

“Mhm… unnerving.” you hummed, completely focused on the doll.

„Good evening!“ the warm voice of an elderly woman suddenly chimed up, making you and Dean jump. “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to scare the two of you.”

“All good.” you chuckled, clutching your heart.

“How can I help the two of you?” the woman smiled endearingly.

“We were wondering if you still have a room available for one night. We tried every motel and hotel, but they’re all booked.”

“Yes, my dear. We still have enough rooms.” the woman quickly looked through her little notebook, “We got two with single beds and another free one with a double.”

“I wonder why…” Dean muttered next to you, earning a swift nudge from your elbow into his ribs.

“We would love to take the one with the double bed.” you smiled sweetly at the woman.

After checking in the old woman led you to your room. To your relief, the room itself was much brighter and less smelly than the foyer. And even the number of dolls was drastically lower and the décor was much more modern.

“Heh… weird.” Dean chuckled as he looked through the room.

“What?” you hummed as you rummaged through your bag.

“Isn’t that the doll that sat on the fireplace downstairs?” Dean inclined his head as he approached the doll that sat on an old commode.

“Maybe she got two?” you shrugged, heading into the bathroom to take a shower.

"Mhm." was Dean's only response as he inspected the doll. It seemed like there were no mechanics at all. Still, her motions were so fluent and lively. Dean carefully picked her up to not break her. He pulled away the crunchy feeling fabric as he searched for the battery pocket but couldn't find one, no matter where he looked.

"Must be some kind of solar thing," he murmured to himself and shrugged. He plucked down the little dress the doll was wearing when an idea popped into his mind, a mischievous grin spreading on his lips.

As you returned from the shower half an hour later and opened the door without suspecting anything bad, you jumped immediately.

“For fucks sake, Dean!” you growled as the doll sat in front of the bathroom door, smiling sympathetically at you as she waved. Dean meanwhile was giggling while lying on the bed, elated that he had scared you successfully.

“Got you!” he cackled triumphantly, making you roll your eyes at him.

“You're lucky I love you.” you grumbled.

“I know.” he smiled sweetly, before heading for a shower himself, pecking your cheek swiftly as he passed you. "Shouldn't have let your guard down..."

The two of you soon settled down in bed, overripe for a good night’s sleep. Dean was out almost immediately as his head hit the pillow. You on the other hand seemed not so lucky.

You lay wide awake in the bed, not knowing why. All you wanted to do was sleep. Maybe it was the unfamiliar surroundings, maybe it was the rest of the adrenaline from the hunt that still ran through your veins. And it didn’t help that Dean was felling trees right next to you. One day you’d smother him if he wouldn’t get that snore checked out.

You jumped slightly when there was a soft thud echoing through the room. You glanced at the clock that stood on the bedside table. A few minutes past 3a.m. You glanced at Dean who was still fast asleep, completely unbothered by the sound. He really was exhausted.

You sat up in the bed and scanned the room. You chuckled when you realised that your duffle bag had fallen from a chair onto the ground. You lay back down and sigh, trying to give sleep another try. You nuzzled against Dean who quickly encased you in a hug, pulling you against his chest. You hummed contently and finally managed to drift off to sleep.

The next morning you and Dean woke up early, quickly throwing everything into your bags before you zipped them up and quickly checked out.

The old woman wasn’t too thrilled that you declined her breakfast buffet which consisted of off-colour sausages and weirdly looking eggs. She was appeased when Dean and you at least took a bread roll each before saying your goodbyes and hurrying out of the smelly B&B.

As soon as Baby rounded the corner, you threw out the stale bread rolls in favour of stopping at a drive-in to get a quick breakfast that wouldn’t get stuck in your throat and take you out.

It was around noon when Dean and you finally arrived back at the bunker, and you quickly started to get your bags out of the car and restock the ammunition and the rest of your weapon arsenal. You'd had a lot to get done, unpacking your dirty clothes to get them washed and repacking the bags for the next hunt as soon as possible. This had been all you've been doing lately, hurrying from one case to another without getting a real break.

When you wandered into the bedroom and opened your duffle bag you almost fainted.

“DEAN! What the fuck!?” you screamed enraged.

“What?” Dean looked at you innocently as he entered your shared room.

“Don’t look at me all innocent!” you scolded him, “You know exactly what you did!”

“As much as I want to take the praise for it, …I don’t.” Dean dryly replied, smiling at you tight-lipped.

“Then please enlighten me how else this freakish thing appeared in my bag!” you pointed into your bag in which the doll from the B&B laid neatly on top of your belongings.

“Dunno.” Dean shrugged, “I swear, Y/N. I didn’t put it in there. It must’ve fallen over when we packed. I mean, I didn’t even touch your bag until you gave it to me to put it in the trunk.”

“Sure.” you glare at him, not believing a single word.

“I swear.” he chuckles, trying to get your good grace back by hugging you tightly from behind, peppering your cheeks with kisses.

“Don’t suck up now.” you giggle.

“But I gotta cheer you up.” he murmured.

“Then be a dear and throw it out. I’m not gonna touch that thing.” you muttered, looking at the doll in disdain.

“Sure thing, my love.” he gave you another peck on your cheek before unravelling his arms from your waist. He picked up the doll, holding it in front of his face. “Bye-bye, Y/N.” he tried to mimic a creepy voice as he walked backwards out of the room.

“You’re such a dork.” you chuckled, shaking your head and continuing to unpack.

It didn’t take long when you heard another shriek resound through the bunker. You quickly hurried to the source of the turmoil, coming to a halt in front of Sam’s room. You were met by Dean who was toppled over in laughter while Sam was sitting on the floor, chest heaving while the doll was sitting on his bed, smiling endearingly as she never ceased to wave.

“Dean, you’re an idiot.” you can’t help but giggle a little.

“I had to, darling.” Dean wipes away a tear he had shed from laughing so hard.

“Did you?!” Sam snarled, scrambling to get back to his feet.

“Oh come on, Sammy. T’was just a joke.” Dean grins triumphantly, shrugging innocently before patting his brother's back teasingly.

“You good, Sam?” you tried so hard to bite back a grin yourself. Sam cleared his throat and nodded.

“Now that I got the two of you here, we could talk about the agenda of the coming days.” Sam changed the topic, earning a groan from Dean.

“How about you let us come back and settle in first.” Dean huffed annoyed.

“Bobby called me repeatedly already. He needs us down at his house. He got a pressing case for us and told me to come down as soon as you two came back.”

“Can we at least have one more day?” Dean bargained, letting his head fall back, “I still need to wash my clothes, else I’ll have to wear my boxers inside out.”

“Gross.” you grimaced.

“If you wanna take the blame for the delay.” Sam hummed, raising his arms in surrender.

“I’ll handle that.” Dean scrunched his nose, “Then it’s settled, we’re going for drinks tonight.” Dean proclaimed with a cheeky grin.

“What? What about your laundry?” Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean.

“What ‘what?’?! Can’t do much while it's in the washer, now can I? Might as well grab a drink then.” Dean smirked smugly. “And I know exactly where we’ll go!” Dean waved a piece of paper around. You swiftly grabbed it from his hand. Sam peeked over your shoulder to get a glance as you read over the flyer.

“ ’Come dressed up - get a free shot’ …?” Sam read out, raising his brow sceptically “Really, Dean?”

“Admit it, you just want to dress up.” you hummed as your eyes drifted from the flyer to Dean. You almost snorted when you saw his eyes sparkle gleefully. He definitely already knew what he’d wear.

“Nonsense.” he protested nonetheless, “I just think a free shot would be neat.”

“Sure, Dean…” Sam shot him an incredulous glance and shook his head.

As you and Dean walked back to your room you could tell that he wanted you to guess what he'd wear. He stared at you expectantly, not watching where he was going.

“Let me guess…” you hummed amused, trying to hold back a laugh. “Cowboy?”

“Cowboy.” he grins giddily, nodding enthusiastically. “What’s your pick?”

“I dunno… I’m not that big on costumes.” you shrugged.

“You can’t tell me you don’t have any costumes.” Dean gasped almost offended, closing the bedroom door behind him.

“Welp… I don’t.” you shrugged, "Unless you count our disguises as a costume."

“And you’re supposed to be my girlfriend…” he tsked and shook his head in feigned disappointment. Suddenly a mischievous grin tugged on the corners of his lips. “I got an idea for the perfect costume though… and we could probably modify some of your clothes for it…”

„If you say sexy nurse, I’ll hit you,” you warn him, shooting him an unamused glare.

“Ok, no sexy nurse then…” he raises his palms in defeat, “But… I’m sure it would suit you perfectly.”

"Of course, you’d think that…“ you shake your head, rolling your eyes at him.

"I‘m being truthful.” he grins, pulling you closer by your waist. “You‘d look irresistible… but then again you look irresistible in everything." Dean purred into your ear.

"Nice try Romeo.“ you push him away gently but firmly, “I will wear something a little less cliché.”

"Was worth the try…" he shrugged, pecking your lips before letting you go to get ready.

The night at the bar was just what you needed. Dean, Sam and you drank together, bellowing to the music in the bar and indulging in old memories.

Around 3 am Dean and you came back completely hammered. Sam had opted to go home with a girl in a devil costume.

As Dean and you barged into the bunker, you were leaning on each other heavily as you giggled together. You barely made it to your bed when you fell onto the mattress. Dean immediately hugged you close to him, nuzzling into your neck as he took a deep breath. He lazily pressed a few kisses along your neck, making you squirm against him, but his lips stopped just as quickly as they had started. Soft snores resounded from him, his warm breath hitting your skin. But you couldn’t bother, you were already drifting off as well when Miracle suddenly started to growl lowly.

“Mira’ shut up.” you slurred annoyed, but Miracle wouldn’t stop. “Miracle!” you groaned, searching for a pillow around you and throwing it into the darkness.

You heard a dull sound and Miracle fell silent. You could hear him sniff around but soon darkness encased you fully as your drunken mind fell asleep.

"Y/N?" Dean called through the bunker hoarsely when he had finally fallen out of bed.

"I'm in the library," you replied, cradling your pounding head between your hands as you sat at the table. Even the smell of your coffee in front of you made you slightly nauseous. You regretted the last three shots from last night.

There was a moment of silence in which you could hear him waddle towards the library.

"Did you put that creepy doll in the kitchen?! You scared the shit out of me!" Dean’s face was still pale as he entered the library in his bathrobe. You weren’t sure if it was from the hangover or the shock. “Was that your revenge for yesterday? I swear I didn’t put it in your bag!

"I didn't.“ you mumbled slurred, not even bothering to look at Dean as your eyes were closed, „I wouldn’t have touched that thing for a lame revenge like that. Probably was Sam.” you shrugged, “He came back like an hour ago… probably wanted to pay you back.”

"Sammy!" Dean bellowed, already taking off to Sam’s room. You winced at his loud voice and groaned when you heard the brothers start to bicker.

After an agonizing hangover that lasted till late in the evening, you finally felt good enough to help Dean pack for the next morning when he'd leave with Sam. You felt extra clingy tonight even though you knew that they would probably be back in two or three days.

But as the tradition dictated, Dean and you cuddled in bed together before going to sleep.

"When do you have to leave again tomorrow?" you murmured against Dean’s skin as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"We gonna leave at… like 7.30-ish?" Dean hummed, his hand lazily running up and down your spine.

“That early?” you whined to which Dean chuckled. He softly kissed your forehead, wrapping his arms tighter around you and holding you close.

“The earlier we leave, the earlier we get back,” he mumbled against your neck.

“And how long will you be gone?” you huffed against him.

“A day, maybe two?” Dean hummed, “So you only have a single night without your handsome and wonderful man.” he grinned against your skin, making you chuckle.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, I can probably survive a night without you.” you retorted in feigned annoyance.

“Oh really?” he smirked, starting to tickle your sides.

“Hey! No! Stop!” you started to squirm against him, trying to wriggle away from his attack. Dean grinned triumphantly as he continued to tickle you for a moment before stopping.

“Still think you gonna be fine without me?” he looked at you challengingly.

“More than ever.” you grinned cheekily, biting your lip.

“Don’t be mean now…” Dean murmured, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

“Mhm… ok… maybe that’s something I’m gonna miss…” you smiled against his lips.

“Is that so?” Dean smirked smugly, giving you a passionate kiss, “I can remind you of a few more things you gonna miss.” he grinned, swiftly flipping you to lay on the mattress. You yelped in surprise as he towered over you, trailing hungry kisses down your skin, making you gasp in delight.

You groaned softly when you woke up in the middle of the night without seemingly any reason. At first, you thought it was thanks to Dean’s snoring. As you glanced at your alarm clock it was shortly after 3am… again.

It seemed to become a daily occurrence for you to wake up around that time, you just couldn’t understand why. Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a soft shuffling around your bed. You tensed for a moment, glancing around the room. Your eyes landed on the slightly ajar door that you were sure had been closed when Dean and you went to bed.

You rolled your eyes amused at yourself for being scared for a moment when Miracle had probably just pushed open the door to get to his sleeping spot at the foot of your bed.

You nuzzled back into your pillow, closing your eyes to go back to sleep when there suddenly resounded what could only be described as a giggle. Your eyes widened immediately, and your hands tightened on your blanket.

You swallowed hard as you listened into the darkness.

"Dean!" you whispered. No response. You began to shake him slightly, "Dean, wake up!" you whisper-yelled panicked.

"Hmm… what's wrong." Dean groaned sleepily as he began to stir awake.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That giggle!" the fear in your voice was apparent.

"Giggle? Go back to sleep Y/N, your imagination is playing tricks on you."

The floorboards softly creaked making you jump.

"Did you hear that!" you almost shouted.

"Yes, I did. It's just the wood settling, telling you to get some sleep. Nothing more." Dean mumbled, pulling you closer to him before he fell right back to sleep. You rolled your eyes at him.

"Thanks, douchebag…" you muttered, pulling your covers up to your nose and staying alert.

Every creak and crack made you scoot even closer to Dean until you were pressed against him completely. You battled with falling asleep as exhaustion seeped into your bones but once the clock struck 6am the bunker fell silent apart from Dean’s snores. Your eyelids became just too heavy to keep open and soon you were fast asleep.

"Outch!" you cried out, clutching your hip. You were still half asleep when you pottered around in the kitchen. When you had turned around your hip crashed into the open standing cutlery drawer, "For god’s sake Dean! How often do I have to tell you to close these damn drawers!" you hissed in pain at Dean who sat on the table, nursing his coffee. He looked up, startled for a moment.

"I wasn't even near that drawer," he replied groggily, his hand rubbing over his cheek.

"Sure." you grumbled, “That seems to be your standard excuse.”

"No, for real! I only got my coffee. Don’t need cutlery for that." he defended himself and held up his cup. You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Don't give me that look Y/N!" Dean warned you jokingly, "I swear, I'm telling the truth. Maybe you opened it in your delirium and forgot about it."

"Maybe." you grumbled as you took a spoon out of the drawer and closed it, "But you can't blame me. I slept awful."

"Why? Didn’t I tire you out enough?” Dean smirked into his mug, “You seemed really exhausted when we fell asleep…”

“Sometimes I wanna smack your pretty face…” you sighed, shooting Dean an unamused glare, "I woke up in the middle of the night because I thought that I had heard somebody or something shuffling through the house. There was creaking and giggling the whole night."

"Giggling?" Dean drawled amused, raising a brow at you.

" I know it sounds weird but I know what I’ve heard.”

“Maybe it was just the whistling of the wind or something like that." Dean shrugged dismissively, “Maybe Miracle whined in his sleep."

"Cause I can’t tell the difference between a dog whine and a giggling sound?" you scoffed, “Miracle wasn’t even in our room last night cause of certain activities…”

“Maybe you were making up things in your post-blissful haze.” Dean grinned cheekily, immediately receiving a hit against his shoulder, “Ow!” he chuckled, “Why are you being so mean to me lately?”

“I’m not mean! You’re just a dick at the moment.”

“Am not!” Dean protested amused, rubbing his arm, “You’ve been on my case ever since we returned from our hunt.”

“Because you started the war with the doll!”

“I didn’t do that!” Dean laughed, “But maybe that’s why you’re so jumpy. Your subconsciousness still tries to get over that little scare.”

"I’m a hunter, Dean. Spooky shit is my daily bread, so I doubt that a little doll could scare me into hallucinating sounds at night.” you scoffed, “And it's not like I was dreaming. I was wide awake!"

"So, you wanna tell me some creature scampered through the bunker last night?” Dean looked at you sceptically, “I would’ve heard it as well. I mean, I was right next to you… Wait a minute… is that why you tried to wake me up last night? It feels like we talked about this already."

"Yeah… and you jackass fell right back asleep.” you huffed, “You wouldn’t have heard a fire alarm over your snoring!”

“I don’t snore!” Dean scoffed offended.

“Oh trust me, you do.” you huffed dramatically, “And yes, I know, there wasn't anybody scampering around… I just. I don't know, ok? Something just felt… off."

"It was probably the wood settling over the night. The nights are getting colder now, the wood draws together.” Dean reasoned, gently rubbing your arm up and down in a soothing motion.

"Presumably…" you mumbled unconvinced.

"And the most plausible," Dean added with a shit-eating grin.

"Bite me!" you quipped, glaring at him as you shrugged off his hand.

"You know, only in our bedroom!" he called after you with a cheeky grin as you walked out of the kitchen, flipping him off.

When the boys left the bunker to drive down to Bobby, you left with them through the garage, saying your goodbye to them before heading in the other direction towards the town to get some groceries so you wouldn’t have to get takeout yet again. Sam, Dean, and you had been almost exclusively on the road for the last couple of months, so the pantry looked quite meagre while other chores had piled up around the bunker. You would have to get to them as soon as you came back from grocery shopping and running a few errands as well.

Around noon you finally found yourself back at the bunker, the trunk of your car filled with multiple bags and the dry cleaning you had picked up on your way. Dean and Sam had the bad habit of wearing their suits until they started to reek and would bring almost every suit they owned to the dry cleaning at once. Usually, you refused to bring or pick up the clothes since it was hard to carry the 10+ suits back and forth but you actually had to pick up a coat of your own, so you tried to be a doting girlfriend and friend for once and picked all of the clothes up.

Just as you killed the engine and tried to figure out how you could carry everything inside without having to take too many trips, your phone began to ring.

"Perfect timing, Mister Winchester." you chuckled as you accepted the call.

"Just came home?" his raspy voice resounded from the speakers. He sounded tired.

"Yup, had a busy day already. How’s the trip going? Taking a break?”

"Sammy had to stretch out his freakishly long legs.” Dean hummed and you could hear a muffled ‘Hey!’ in the background.

“But traffic’s ok?”

“So far, it’s been a breeze. We almost passed the halfway mark, we should get to Bobby around 6pm if we’re lucky.” Dean hummed.

“Where are you right now?” you asked curiously, getting out of the car to walk around to the back.

“Somewhere in the middle of Missouri… I think.”

“How’s it there? Any better than in Kansas?” you tried to keep Dean talking, already missing his voice. You pinned your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you opened the trunk and got the first few bags out of it, walking towards the bunker's main entrance.

“Slightly better weather-wise but I'd much rather be with you right now," Dean murmured into your ear.

"Aw, you're sweet. I'd love that too… then I wouldn't have to carry in all these suits that I picked up at the dry-cleaner's and all these groceries on my own." Dean only snickered on the other end of the line, “We really have to get them cleaned in more reasonable batches instead of every single suit you guys have been wearing till they smell.”

"So, what do you have planned for tonight?" Dean tried to change the subject.

"Not much," you said while fishing for your keys in your coat pocket while balancing the grocery bags on your leg, "Maybe do some of my laundry.”

Dean could hear you unlock the front door and suddenly you screamed and there was a thud.

"Y/N?" Dean asked concerned, his brows furrowing as he listened attentively for any sounds.

"Dean what the heck! Was that necessary?" you panted into the speaker as you picked up your phone from the ground.

"Was what necessary?" he asked confused.

"Don't act so innocent. You have to stop with those pranks!" you laughed, your heart still racing, "You scared the shit out of me. Again. Congratulations!"

"…and with what exactly?" Dean chuckled bemused.

"The doll you sat directly behind the door?"

"Ahh… erm… yeah. Got you!" he forced a laugh. Hadn’t he thrown that weird thing out before they went to the bar 2 days ago? Maybe Miracle had found it in the trash outside and dragged it back inside.

"Ok?" you raised an eyebrow and kicked the doll out of your way, "Moving on. Please remember to tell Cas that he has to come by the next couple of days for the translation of the Enochian we found." you carried the bags towards the kitchen.

“Why me?” Dean grumbled.

“Cause Cas only answers your calls…” you hummed amused. Dean sighed exasperated.

"Yes, sweetheart, I will." he groaned.

The rest of the day you busied yourself with the chores. You started a load of your and Dean’s sheets while tidying your shared room, vacuuming, and dusting off every surface. Afterwards, you busied yourself with restocking the pantry and cleaning out the fridge from unidentifiable containers of what arguably had been food at some point in time.

After cooking yourself a late dinner you let yourself fall into a recliner in the Dean cave. Miracle joined you, getting a few bites of your pasta dish as the two of you watched a movie. In the middle of the movie, your phone vibrated, notifying you of a goodnight text from Dean and the info that he and Sam were on their way back to the bunker and should be back around noon. You quickly send back your reply before stashing the phone into the side of the recliner and turning your attention back to the movie.

You didn’t even realise how tired you were until you woke up in the middle of the night to a completely dark room. The TV must’ve shut off a while ago and Miracle was nowhere to be seen.

You sighed as you tried to wake up enough to get up and wander back to your room. That’s when you realised that you had forgotten to put the sheets back onto the bed after you had washed them and put them into the dryer. You groaned and shuffled in the opposite direction to the laundry room. You didn’t bother turning on the lights, hoping you would be able to fall asleep quicker if you didn’t get blinded by the harsh lights of the bunker.

As you gathered all the sheets out of the dryer you hummed in delight as the scent of freshly washed laundry filled your nose. You couldn’t wait to fall asleep while being encased in this heavenly smell. Your thoughts were rudely interrupted when Mircale suddenly started to bark out of nowhere.

“What is it, Miracle?” you called out annoyed. Maybe he was scolding you for not being in your room when he wanted to sleep, “I’ll be there in a sec…”

You were a little confused when his barking turned into growls and snarls.

“Miracle, what’s your deal?” you groaned.

Your heart stopped beating for a moment, your eyes widening as you froze in the doorway. You swallowed hard and tried to pull yourself together. This probably was just a nightmare. Or as Dean would tell you right now, just the wood settling. Very amused Wood being in a giggly mood…

You felt a chill run down your spine when you heard it again.

The giggling.

“H-hello?” you asked into the darkness, thinking that maybe Dean had already talked to Cas who had come by.

But you never got a response. And usually, Miracle wouldn’t snarl at Cas either, nor would Cas sound like a giggling toddler. So, this was more than odd.

Your stomach felt queasy as you crept up towards your room cautiously. Your heart was dancing tango in your chest. Suddenly you heard pitter-patter grow louder behind you and without another thought you booked it to your room, not even looking back. As soon as you reached your room, Miracle scurried in after you and you slammed the bedroom door close.

You panted as adrenaline shot through and your brain was slowly processing what just had happened. You began chuckling and shook your head amused.

“Miracle, you scared me.” you chuckled slightly relieved and a bit amused that you got scared that easily when a sudden slam against the door made your heart sink again.

You quickly locked the door, backing away immediately and stumbling backwards a few steps until the back of your knees hit the mattress. You threw the washed sheets onto the bed, your eyes never leaving the door as you searched for Dean’s emergency blade under the bed. Once you had the knife secured in your hand you searched for your phone in desperation. It slowly dawned on you that you had forgotten your phone on the recliner, so you had no chance of calling the boys for support. But then again, they probably couldn’t help you in your situation right now anyway since they were still thousands of miles away from the bunker. All you could do was wait it out until they came back and stand on guard.

At some point during the night, you gathered the courage to slide a chair under the handle of the door before you sat down on your bed again. You didn’t hear anything anymore outside of the door, but you didn’t trust the silence one bit. You invited Miracle into the bed for emotional support. Dean would kill you if he found out that you had let the dog sleep in bed with you, but you didn’t really care right now.

Harsh pounding against the door jerked you awake. You had no idea how late it was or when you had fallen asleep. You almost fell to the ground when you scrambled out of bed.

“Darling? Y/N?! Are you in there?” Dean’s worried voice resounded from the other side of the door, the handle turning frantically as he continued to knock against the door.

You quickly scurried to the door and pulled the chair away before you opened the door, trying to act as nonchalant as possible.

“You’re back.” you tried to sound enthusiastic, but the grogginess was quite apparent on your face.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Dean asked worried, grabbing your shoulders as he inspected you, “What happened? Why did you lock yourself in our room? You look pale.”

“N-nothing.” you stammered sheepishly. You didn’t want to tell Dean what had happened. He probably wouldn’t believe you and tell you that you had probably just imagined it again. Or he’d turn it around and tease you about ‘how much you had missed him’ and that ‘your strong, handsome man was back to protect you from bad dreams again’. And you really didn’t need that right now, especially with the lack of proper sleep.

“Look who we brought,” Sam announced suddenly, making you sigh relieved as the conversation was stirred away from you when Sam stepped aside to reveal Cas tagging along behind him.

“You look awful.” Cas greeted you in his monotone voice.

“Hi, Cas… nice to see you, too.”

Taglist: @hellowgoodbye @fuckyoutommie @loz-3 @whorefordean @kayful00595 @drasticemotions @deans-spinster-witch @tweakingin2 @winharry @jackles010378 @marvelfanfn2187a113

Divider by @talesmaniac89

[hazelkjt]

Claire Ashe || SMASH or PASS

Rules: pretty self explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc)

Was tagged a second time by @gatheredfates but already did this before for Hazel, so time to go down the list to my second most fleshed out character: Claire! No other tags, this has been making its round for a week now so everybody who has wanted to do it has probably done so by now. So, blanket "I tag you reading this" statement here!

Quick Facts:

Height: 6'2"/188cm

Age: 29 as of Dawntrail

Gender: CIS Woman

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Lesbian

Pros:

A PHENOMENAL cook. Helped run her mother's gourmet restaurant as a chef in Ala Mhigo before running away

Good listener, lets you vent your frustrations without worry

Quite low maintenance, just few affirmations of feelings every now and then

When she ever does feel like giving compliments, they come from the heart

Cons:

A paranoid wreck. Pessimistic and keeps her distance emotionally to try and stop pain before it starts

Kind of a bitch. Cold and blunt with everybody and very easily annoyed, at first glance (and most subsequent glances) she seems to sort of hate everyone

Don't ever try to touch her third eye if you want to keep your hand.

Constant third wheel thanks to her Reaper partner, Sidian

Self-esteem issues, takes a LONG TIME to fully commit to something/someone

Misc. Details

Is fully Garlean. Not necessarily an objective pro or con but still a very important part of who she is

Long distance relationships would be a must, as she works as part of a merchant sailing crew currently

Knows how to conduct herself in a more formal manner, just chooses not to. Quite crude and foul mouthed in person.

Very sensitive and sentimental about her headband, as it was the last gift her best friends got for her before their deaths

SEXUALLY dominant, with little to leeway otherwise. Claire is either in control from the start or will compete to be the entire night. She is controlling and can get a little rough, but doesn't ever aim to harm anyone. Very casual with sex, having had plenty of one night stands.

ROMANTICALLY very distant, to the point that from the outside she doesn't act any differently to a partner than someone she tolerates as a friend. Behind closed doors she's more open and vulnerable, but in most day to day life she barely commits to showing affection out of fear of becoming too invested in the relationship.

[softer-ua]

✨Kami and Baku friendship appreciation post✨

I demand we start giving their friendship the attention it deserves! I fully believe Katsuki wouldn’t have gotten as far in his development as swiftly as he did without Denkis influence

Denki is such a good person for Katsuki to have in his life because Denki is not overly impressed by Katsuki’s skills, as impressive as they are his foul attitude left a much greater impression on Denki

And Denki isn’t hesitant to point it out like ever, no matter how amazing his performance Denkis first concern is his behavior.

During the hero licensing exam Denki note only takes notice of Katsukis unspoken desire to be a protector and team player but explains and defends this fact to an outsider and the audience.

During the A vs B class Katsuki steps in to protect Jiro and Denki is focused on how Katsuki went about the save while everyone else is just happily surprised Katsuki bothered at all

Kiri often over values Katsukis skills and strength to the point that while he calls Katsuki out it doesn’t really change how he acts towards Katsuki and he’s more inclined to try to interpret what Katsuki meant and move one

Deku does this too to an extent, more so it’s built off a life time of knowing each other so he just auto translates Kacchan and his behavior is very normalized to him

Deku also in the early days of UA/Middle School had a more pessimistic view that this is just who Kacchan is and he can’t change but his over all potential for heroism and to be a societal asset out weighs it all

That said how Kacchan acts has always influenced Dekus attitude and behavior towards him, outside a very bad day in middle school Deku really only ever gives Kacchan one chance at a time to accept being placated and if he pushes it Deku shoves back and if he’s good then their good

Denki however doesn’t care to interpret Katsuki’s actions if he thinks the behavior out weighs Katsukis intent

Katsuki often shows he cares in confusingly agressive ways, and while it’s super cute and wonderfully sweet that he has people who are willing and able to read between the lines & understand him and more gently encourage better from him it’s also beneficial for him that Denki won’t

Denki absolutely knows what Kacchan wants to mean and the care he’s trying to show but Denki doesn’t indulge him, if he’s being an ass than that’s what Denki focuses on

Because of that Katsuki trusts him, real recognizes real, he knew he could get Denki to make the class laugh and that Denki would understand his motive

Unlike Deku or Kiri or anyone else who might also get it Denki will focus on Katsukis rude actions and that in a way protects his rough reputation, Denki is safe to “ask” for help because he cares more about how Katsuki crudely demands it than he does the altruistic motives

They also have a shared love of being annoying little shits to each other, each poking at the other’s boundaries and provoking each other, an odd little dance that proves to the other that they’re equals in the others eyes.

Not equal in greatness but they equally regarded the other as failing losers.

A truly novel experience for Katsuki

One that keeps him seeking Denki out as a safe person to exist near, Denki will ensure Katsuki is included in social activities without the burden of outward vulnerability

While Denki at first probably enjoys Katsukis company mostly because it’s a reliable source of dopamine, there’s always a guaranteed reaction that keeps things interesting and fun, but later truly values how much Katsuki cars about others even if he pretends not to

In regards to social capital Denki is about even with Katsuki

Denki for all his power and general skills/smarts(he is going to the top school in the country) is not the sharpest tool in the shed by most peoples standards but he has a powerful quirk and is going to an elite school and that gives him a high social standing amongst the wider populace

And unlike Katsuki he has a fun sociable quality that draws people to him and keeps them there

Denki knows what many neurodivergent kids know, there’s a much greater value in one’s interpersonal/soft skills than any hard skill

Interpersonal skills help you get things like having more lenient expectations(deadlines,or grades) because bosses/teachers like you, help you gain friends that laugh with your mistakes(late or lost or forgotten time & things) rather than getting mad

Neurodivergent kids learn quick how valuable having those skills are not only in ourselves but we learn to value it in others even more, I have a vastly greater opinion of people who are empathetic, forgiving, communicative, and kind than I do of those who are well skilled.

A mechanic who might take longer but is personable and has a shop that feels safe will have my business for life as well as my friends and families vs the speediest mechanic who’s a condescending asshole to me

Katsuki who is hella sharp as well as powerful and going to an elite school also draws people to him but he has all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile so he is left at a distance from others as he often unpalatable and leaves a bad taste in the air

Katsuki is an outlier of social rules, he is so good at a largely valued skill that he is by and large excused from having manners, not many people can be that good at something nor are they lucky enough for that skill to be universally valuable

But from natural cause & effect and Denkis direct actions Katsuki is finally being held to standard by someone society deems his equal(even if the inner hero group doesn’t always, which was a benefit to their relationship by making him less of a threat to Katsukis greatness)

Denki(and the class at large) opinion of him holds value in a way he’s not used to at first, but he actually learns to embrace it and befriends Denki which once again gives him a novel level of accountability because he has a personal investment in Denkis opinion

This has the added benefit of helping him repair his relationship with Deku

Deku as awkward as he is has great interpersonal skills. But he was also an outlier, he actually had such little social credit that his interpersonal skills lost value to the point Katsuki was offended by them as well as scared.

Because as hard as Katsuki pushed Deku and his kindness away he couldn’t complete ignore that there was value in it and it was a value he sorely lacked in

By witnessing this value in a new light and no longer being exempt from striving towards it he was better able to see Deku for who he is as well as himself

Deku having this strength doesn’t immediately make Deku better than him nor does him struggling to achieve this kind of strength make him lesser

[lesbian-deadpool]

Happy Little Accidents

Part Two: Hope (Re-write)

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 4,245

Warnings:  Crying/light angst, adoption process, stress, so many emotions.

Request: Nope.

Summary: After a long and tedious “battle” with the adoption system, you finally get your daughter back.

A/N: I wholly believe that Valentines Day should be about all forms of love, not just romantic. Hence this family fic! When I originally wrote this, I knew I could do it better, but my writers block wouldn’t allow that to happen, so I decided to re-write it now.

Ko-Fi

Commissions

(Not my pics)

---

The adoption process was complex and complicated.

You probably should have assumed that walking into it.

Being a pair of Avengers did nothing to help in that aspect.

Not really.

On one hand, you were well-known across the globe- Household names even, be that of words good and foul.

But on the other hand, you were dangerous people. You would admit that yourselves. People with trauma and violent pasts -and futures to come, in your line of work- with more enemies between Natasha and yourself than you could begin to count. Some of which you didn't even know existed.

Honestly, who in their right mind would ever allow a child to be raised in that environment?

People have been turned down for much less.

However.

The Avengers were essentially celebrities.

And as everyone knows, that came with a lot of special treatment. Even if most of -if not all- of your team denied accepting any of it.

But in this case?

For Hope?

Your daughter?

You would do whatever you had to. Take whatever help and/or special treatment you could to get the child back in your home and where she belonged.

So, it was thanks to that, that you even had the opportunity to be considered for adoption.

And there was so much work that had to be done.

Papers to sign, meetings to attend, visits and screenings everywhere you looked. And so much more that clouded your mind.

It was a long and tedious journey.

And you still had a long way to go. The end still far in sight.

"This is pointless," you spoke from your seat on the couch, thumbs pressed against your temples, folded fingers cradling your forehead, as your girlfriends pottered around, cleaning the already sparkling apartment up.

"I know it is," Natasha said, voice just as dull as yours, as she finished fluffing a pillow, placing it back onto the couch.

"We're moving. They've already seen the house. We're not even planning on bringing Hope here. I don't get why they feel the need to evaluate this place."

"Y/N, I agree with you. I do." Natasha spun on her heel, gesturing her arms out to you in a stressed manner. "But this is just something that we have to do. No matter how illogical it may be."

With a sigh, you leaned your head back, running a hand through your hair while Natasha continued on with her stress cleaning.

"I'm sure they're trying to find drugs or weapons that we've left out or something, just to deny us."

"Could you not be so pessimistic? I thought that was my job," the redhead tried to joke, "And anyway, what more do you expect. You popped a pill in front of them before."

Your head snapped up at that. "I had a broken arm, and it was scheduled! I explained that to them, but they still looked at me like I was abusing the drugs."

It was her turn to sigh, but this time in guilt, coming over to straddle your lap, hands softly massaging the tension out of your shoulders.

"I know, and I'm sorry." It was a soft moment between the two of you, inside the eye of all the chaos your lives had become. Just relishing in the feeling of being together, foreheads pressed against the other, eyes closed, and taking calming breaths in sync with each other. "This has just got us so stressed," she stated needlessly, "I don't blame you for that." A peck to your lips. "Not in the slightest. They're just so overly critical because of what we do that it's nervewracking, and we have to walk on eggshells with them."

"I still want to punch her for bringing up your past like that."

Natasha smiled at how protective you were over her. Hands trailing from your shoulders to cradle the back of your neck. "You can want to all you like. As long as you don't actually do it."

"But it would be so satisfying."

At your mischievous words, the love of your life pressed her lips firmly against yours, leaving you to feel her smile against your skin, soon pulling you into one of your own.

It quickly turned into a make-out session, with the woman softly running her thumbs across your ears and your hands trailing up her back, pulling her further against you, basking in one another's love.

However, it wasn't meant to last. As not long later, you were interrupted by a knock at the door of your temporary apartment, signalling the case worker was here.

"Oh, God, I haven't finished cleaning up," Natasha rushed from your lap, panic washing over her like a tsunami, with you following just as quick.

Placing your hands on her shoulders, just like she did with you not that long ago, you spoke to her in a comforting tone, "Hey, don't worry. The place looks like Cinderella lives here, okay? It's perfect. Everything will be fine."

"God, I hope you're right," she breathed, watching as you strode over to answer the door and allow the woman to step inside the, quite frankly, spotless abode.

---

With your arms folded across your chest, you watched as someone picked apart your home with a keen eye, knowing they were trying to find anything incriminating against you and your girlfriend.

"And where will the child be sleeping."

You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at the woman, having told her you were midway through moving to a new home many times already.

"Not here," you stated.

Natasha jabbed her elbow into your ribs, scolding your dry statement and tone, "Uh, we already filed our move to the agency a few months ago. You've seen the house."

"Can I ask why you're still living here, then?"

"Well, we're just prepping the new home so that it's ready when we move in."

"'Prepping' how?" she asked suspiciously.

Shooting the woman a questioning look, you explained, "We painted a few rooms a couple days ago, and we're just letting it air out. We want it fully livable before we move in."

The woman hummed, nodding gently before scribbling something down in her notes.

If you could throw your arms up into the air out of exasperation and annoyance, you would, but you knew it would only make things more difficult for you to get Hope back. So, instead, you had to hold back your eye roll and sigh deeply.

At least you had some comfort in the form of Natasha rubbing circles into your back.

"And when will you be planning on moving in?"

"We're hoping in the next few weeks."

Another hum and more scribbled notes at Natasha's friendly words.

"Can I see the new house?"

"You've already been there?" you said.

"Is there a reason why you would not want me to see it again?"

"No. No, of course not," you gave in quickly, hating the way Natasha bunched up your shirt in her fist in reaction to the woman's question, "You wanna go right now?"

"That would be great."

You didn't know why your caseworker insisted on acting this way.

Feigning ignorance and asking repeated questions when the answers would only stay the same. If only to catch you out on a lie that wasn't there.

All you wanted was for your little girl to come home. Where she belongs.

---

You had purchased the house not too long ago, maybe a little over two months, and in that time, it had been looked at three times by the same woman who acted like she didn't even know of its existence.

To the adoption agency, it seemed like you were hardly doing anything to the place, considering you were busy working and renovating the whole house, at the same time.

The day after you and Natasha had to say goodbye to Hope, you knew that you had to get a bigger place than the apartment you had both shared in the city. And began looking for new homes the very same day.

It had taken a long time of scouring the many retail sites and an insane amount of open house walks to finally find the perfect home for you to begin your little family.

The home was large. Well… bigger than your one-bedroom apartment, at the very least.

It was a traditional-looking, colonial place in Long Island. With white panelling lining the outside, four bedrooms with a porch out front, a large front and back yard, and even a pool at the back.

It would take a lot of work before it would get to how you and Natasha wanted it for your growing family.

But it was a perfect place to start.

You had considered getting a place, possibly a townhouse, in the city. So as to be close to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ -where you both now worked the majority of the time. As when Fury found out that you were both trying to adopt Hope, he wouldn't accept otherwise, though there were no complaints from either of you. He even went as far as to lower your hours and take you off of missions altogether. Just until you were all settled- but had decided against it. You and Natasha had the picture of teaching Hope how to ride a bike when she was old enough. Of ice cream trucks driving the streets and family memories of summers in the backyard.

Tony's help wasn't needed, you had plenty of money, but he had insisted. And with how sneaky he could be, he would find a way to pay for the home, no matter what.

So, you relented.

Letting the billionaire pay for your home, and you would cover the renovation expensive -even if Tony wanted to pay for that too- and the man also helped plan the renovation.

"Oh, a lot has changed since the last time I was here."

"Oh, so now you remember," you mumbled, to yourself, as you closed the door while Natasha escorted the roman through the entryway.

"What was that, dear?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing. Just said that the door needs another lick of paint." You pointed behind you with your thumb.

Natasha shot you a knowing look. However, the caseworker believed you, with no further questions.

"Would you like another tour?" Natasha offered the woman, who accepted gratefully.

"And this is where we hope Hope will be staying." The redhead finished off the tour, leading her into the newly decorated bedroom, with you following closely behind.

The bare room was painted in a light pink tone, with hardwood flooring and white skirting.

"We still have to pick up the furniture. But we're just waiting for the room to be painted first."

"Yeah, Hope's not gonna sleep on a stack of paint cans," you tried to joke. To which you barely got a smile from your caseworker, Stephany Halla.

"It looks decorated to me," she countered.

"Oh." Natasha smiled. "We're having a friend of ours paint a mural or two on the walls."

"Yeah, she has a few favourite Avengers, so he's gonna paint them. And he's been learning how to draw cartoon characters for it too."

"He's actually trying to adopt the child he took in with his fiancé."

"Steve Rogers?" Stephany asked.

"The very same," you replied, nodding along with Natasha, "He's not the only one either. Tony's trying to adopt the two he and his wife took in."

"Yes. I've seen them around the office," she spoke a few moments later. "So, when are you planning on furnishing the room?"

"Hopefully, during the next few weeks," Natasha replied, "But with our and Steve's schedules, things are up in the air."

Every time Stephany hummed, and scrawled further notes onto the paper on her clipboard, your heart rate spiked out of anxiety.

"Well, your home seems to be in good standing. So far. But I advise you to get the furniture for the child's room as soon as possible," Stephane commented as she began packing up her belongings and paperwork, for your to drive her back to your apartment so she could get in her own car and leave.

"We know." You nodded. "We're actually going shopping for a crib today."

"And Steve did say that he was going to start work on it in the next few days," Natasha added, nodding along with you.

"Well, that is good news." Stephane smiled fully for the first time today. "I'll see you at our next meeting with Hope."

You beamed at the aspect of that.

Natasha sighed happily. "We truly can't wait."

It wasn't long later that you were back in your temporary apartment home after wishing the dirty-blonde woman a goodbye.

Turning, you beamed over to a just as happy Natasha on the sidewalk after watching the caseworker drive off.

"We get to see our daughter in a couple of weeks," your redheaded girlfriend gushed excitedly, dancing from side to side out of pure happiness. Her bright smile filled your soul with a warmth that travelled all the way into your bones.

You easily matched her emotions, arms coming 'round to wrap around her waist, pulling her into your chest and lifting the woman off her feet, spinning her around as she squealed happily.

Placing her back down onto the cement, you replied, "I know, honey. It's been so long since we've seen her. And we're gonna bring her home one day."

That was all you could say before your mouth was covered with the crushing feeling of Natasha's plump lips against yours.

---

One minute you would feel a high that was pure happiness from the aspect of getting your child back. Of even just seeing her. And, in the next, you would be in the deepest depression.

It was a difficult start to the adoption process, more so than it usually would be. Considering that the children legally didn't exist to the world. So, everything was so confusing and thrown up into the air while waiting for the kids to be registered.

Everything felt like you didn't know whether you were coming or going. Almost like you were stuck in limbo as you waited to see what kind of adoption process you would have to take. And even with all of your connections in the world, you were still left in the dark.

First, there was the fact that the kids were found overseas in Romania, so they could be considered Romanian. And so, you would have to go through international adoption.

However, none of the children had birth parents and were brought to America because you had rescued them from evil corporations. So, some would say they could be considered immigrants.

It was difficult to decern, as nothing like this had ever happened before.

Babies that had literally been grown in a lab and saved from a further torturous life that now needed legalization in the world's eyes.

Natasha and yourself -along with the other Avengers hoping to adopt- had to watch as Government's across the globe essentially fought over these children you saved. Over the same child, you fed and clothed. The one you played games with and bonded with the little girl you grew to love and consider your own.

So, as the world fought for the right of your child, your little Hope, you waited. Wishing and wanting to bring your daughter home.

But, lucky for you, the wait would soon be over.

Months later, the children were officially classed as American citizens. Which made it one hundred times easier for you to adopt than it would otherwise.

Which was honestly just crazy to you, considering just how intensely hard it still was.

You didn't want to admit it, but there were times you didn't believe you could ever adopt your child. That you would never be allowed to take her home. She would never be able to sleep in the room she would have adored.

On more than one occasion, Natasha would come to you with the same worries. Saddened to her core, because she truly believed that you would never have Hope return to your little family.

It was so fucking hard.

It was during one night when Natasha rolled over to face you in bed after you had -once again- gone through the rules and regulations of adopting, which you pretty much had memorised at this point. Uttering how you were "Never going to get her back", that there was "Just no way, they would ever let us adopt", as she cried into your arms.

But still, the process continued.

---

Nerves rattled through you, but you hadn't the faintest idea why, considering this wasn't the first time you had seen Hope since having to give her up. However, you had only been able to see her a handful of times since that dreadful day.

If you thought you were bad.

Natasha was far worse.

She was practically shaking. From nerves or excitement, you didn't know. But you had a good inclination that it was both.

You had done so much for this child in the short span of time you had known her.

And yet, you couldn't imagine your life any other way.

It was almost mindboggling to picture how your life was the year before.

No Hope. Surrounded by missions and work. Every free moment you had was spent with Natasha and the rag-tag group of heroes you had grown to call your family.

It all seemed so foreign now.

Like a past life.

'Wow,' you thought, 'Maybe I really am growing up.'

A part of you was afraid that the girl you thought of as your daughter wouldn't recognise you or your girlfriend. And would be scared of the two strangers that had just barged their way into her life, consequently breaking both of your hearts.

"Mommy! Mommy!"

But your fears were unfounded.

As that was the thing that greeted you, as soon as the door had swung open, reviling you both to the little girl. Making you realise just how stupid your train of thought really was.

Natasha rushed forward, scooping the girl up into her arms, with a bright smile upon both of their faces. As the redhead tried to hold back her happy tears.

"So, I still don't get a name, huh?" you joked, walking over to the reuniting mother and daughter.

Brushing a hand over Hope's short, fluffy hair, you grinned when she reached her arms up towards you, ready to give you a hug of your own, which you happily accepted.

"Don't worry," Natasha said, rubbing Hope's back as she hugged you," You'll get a name soon."

"I better. Or else I'm gonna have ta' tickle it out of her."

Hope's squeals reached your ears as you threateningly poked and prodded her side with your fingers.

"Here, baby. I'll save you," Natasha called, pulling the giggling girl from your arms. Both of them watched as you pulled your hands up in front of your face, wiggling your fingers almost spookily at them. The girls turned to each other with blank faces, "They're silly, aren't they?"

Almost like she could understand her, Hope beamed at Natasha.

Then they walked away, further into the room, with you calling after them.

"Hey! I may be silly, but-... I have no rebuttal!"

Just then, a clearing of someone's throat sounded through the room to gain your attention.

Who could only be your caseworker, Stephany Halla.

Natasha chuckled softly at your words before greeting the woman that had been waiting for you, albeit impatiently.

"Hello, Stephany," your girlfriend said in greeting, shaking the woman's hand. With you following suit.

"Hello." She nodded back curtly. "How have you two been?"

"Missing this little one," Natasha replied, bouncing the girl on her waist. Receiving fun-filled giggles in return.

"I bet you have. And you, Y/N?"

"Much of the same. Exhausted though," you told her honestly, "We're finally moving into the house, so. I just want to have everything done and Hope home, then sleep for a week."

Natasha smiled at you over her shoulder, remembering how hard you were working last night to finish building and moving all of the furniture into Hope's room, even at the expense of your sleep.

Stephany smiled slightly, before it dropped, and a gust of air left her nose.

"Let's hope that that's sooner rather than later then."

Your few hours with Hope passed faster than you ever could have imagined.

You played with blocks, ate lunch, "helped" Hope colour in her haphazardly filled colouring book, and tried to coax her into giving you a name of your own. But to no luck.

You absolutely adored the way her eyes lit up, and she started dancing and flailing her arms when she saw bubbles for the first time. You almost couldn't continue blowing them because of your bright smile.

And now, you were watching as Natasha spoke gently to the little girl. With Hope's hands resided on the redhead's cheeks, watching her mother with such care and concentration in her eyes.

You adored your little family.

You just wished you could have them all home.

'One day,' you hoped, 'one day.'

Saying goodbye was one of the hardest things you ever had to do.

Just like last time.

And the time before that.

And the time before that.

And the one before that.

But somehow, it just got harder and harder each and every time you did this.

Hope was crying. And so was Natasha, although silently, as she tried to console the toddler.

"I know, my little love, I know-"

"Mommy!" Hope cried.

You couldn't handle it anymore. So you quickly strode over, wrapping the two up in your arms. Pressing a kiss to Natasha's temple, then to Hope's forehead. Tears spilling from your own eyes. However, you were rendered silent.

"I know, angel. We'll be back before you know it, I promise."

"Mommy!"

"I know."

Once in the car, you continued to let your tears fall. With Natasha sobbing in the seat beside you.

"I don't think I can keep doing this anymore," you admitted. Deciding it was best that you explained when Natasha turned to look at you, with an incredulous look, upon her face, "To keep seeing her, and not being able to take her home with us. It just hurts so much, Nat."

"We'll get there." The love of your life reached over the centre console to squeeze your hand in comfort and understanding. "We will. You're the one who's always saying that we've got to take after her namesake and have hope."

"God, I'm cringy," you sniffed, wiping the tears from your upper lip, gaining a soft, weepy-filled chuckle from Natasha, "It just seems almost endless, babe."

"I know, honey." She wetly kissed your tear-stained cheek. Her lips brushed against the skin as she continued, "We'll bring her home one day. I just know it."

"I hope you're right."

"I'm always right. You should know that by now."

---

She was right.

Of course, she was right.

She was Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, after all.

It was like she just had this inability to be wrong.

But in this case? You were so fucking happy about that.

Granted, it had taken a lot longer than you had hoped for -a good eight months- but finally, you were here.

Exiting the courthouse with Hope in your arms and Natasha by your side. Bright smiles upon all of your faces, about to take the little girl- Your daughter home.

You would never have to say goodbye to her like that ever again.

She was legally a part of your family now. And nothing would ever change that.

The day would be in your memories for the rest of your life.

You would never forget that day in the courthouse.

As soon as you entered the room where the judge would legally bind you and Natasha to your daughter, you heard an unmistakable outcry.

"Daddy!"

Not knowing any better, Hope ran over to your shocked form, haphazardly pushing through the swinging gate.

You scooped the girl up easily, hugging her close to your chest. Turning to a just as shocked Natasha, you breathed, "She gave me a name!"

"Ready to go home, sweetpea?" Natasha asked the beaming girl.

"I don't know about you," you started, "But... I think this deserves celebratory ice cream."

"I think you just want ice cream before dinner."

You gave an overdramatic gasp at your girlfriend, seeing right through you.

"Why, I would never! How dare you accuse me of such a thing?"

Natasha laughed at your antis but nonetheless nodded her head.

"I agree. This does deserve celebratory ice cream."

"Yes!" you exclaimed happily to Hope, your free arm raising above your head in victory, making the girl copy you by lifting both of her arms.

She was already taking after you, and Natasha couldn't wait to see what other habits she would pick up from you.

Your redheaded girlfriend sighed dreamily after you as you chanted, "Ice cream! Ice cream! Ice cream!" On the way to the car, with Hope mumbling, trying to copy your cheers.

She couldn't remember a time when she was this happy.

It had been a long time since that time.

And Natasha just couldn't wait to see what the rest of her life would entail, with two of her favourite people now by her side.

---

Permanent Taglist: 

@imnotasuperhero, @veteranwerewolf95, @marvelfansince08love, @higherfurther-romanova, @lesbian-x-blackwidow, @sestra-inestro, @thelastavenger-3000, @mixed-fandom-mess, @wannabe-fic-reader, @vancityfire13, @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday, @007giu, @fayhar, @xxromanoffxx, @poptartpoppyy, @wlwfanfictionss, @diaryoflife, @pointconji, @readings-stuff, @tokyo-liv, @imadethisblogbecauseiamasimp, @natashaownsmyheart, @marrymemcgrath, @scorpiosloveletter, @idkevenfuckenknow, @wandanatfan, @izalesbean, @iblameitonclint, @bizarrealex, @lorsstar1st, @bak3rio, @heybitches-amirightbitches​, @lokisjuicyass, @marie-yt-blog, @mrswandaromanoff, @red1culous​

SFW Taglist: 

@peggycarter-steverogers, @natalia-quinzel, @stupendoussportspaperempath,

[thescribeoflostmemories]

The Sweet Fairy and The Bitter Fool; Pas De Deux

(Pierro x Ballerina! reader)

He looks like the type to enjoy Tchaikovsky music. Unedited

Tw: creep watching (just him looking at you too hard while dancing), him touching around (waist, thighs, hands, ect.). Huge ass age gap, Thinking a little too deep (aka imagination going off).

***********************************************

Alone you were in all your glory, twirling, prancing in the empty ballroom. It had been several months since you first visit Zapolyarny Palace. Pierro kept a close eye on you to make sure no foul play is afoot. The Fatui agent who was supposed to be stationed at your door ordered by your honorable knight while he's away, though somehow got rather ill yesterday. A painfully average employee who's lucky enough to receive your attention. You had other options until the other Harbingers were too busy with their work. The smile that plastered on your face only soured his mood, though to think the jester himself would rather watch the performance than to use his spare time wisely.

"Oh!" The director of the organization looked at your figure, dressed in a leotard and the short puffy skirt bounced whenever you moved.  The outfit itself is a tease to no end, the way those tight fitting clothes hugged your form. Giving the sense of elegance and grace. Nothing but mockery from the voice of his pessimistic side. He's older, while you? You're still young, with a life ahead. 

Your attention went to the phonograph that Capitano bought for you to listen to a Snezhnaya classic. You're rather fond of certain artists, it's obvious which music you would rather have. Given that your body would love to dance to it. 

You have been gaining a bit of weight as of late. Though you had told Capitano to lessen your meal for the sake of some of your joys in life. It took a bit of convincing and feeding half of your meal to your bodyguard and personal maid since the service is too much.

Part of you is rather saddened that you couldn't fully express what the composer had written, it affected your performance. 

Everything's an art with you. With how you'd carry yourself with such compassion, humility, purity even. Pierro truly believed that the will of the Tsaritsa must be done, so that people like you could live in the cryo archon's reign in the new world.

Soft and gentle music emitted from the record player. Little hops to twirls in sudden pause. The older gentleman had thought a little fairy played around the room instead. Your act is reminiscent of a fairy, a fairy so sweet to hide the hidden sorrows that you, the dancer that carried those emotions, had always wondered how artists could possibly grasp and convey each emotion so accurately.

Once you made a full turn and noticed Pierro by the door, you put a halt to the performance.

"P-pierro! My lord, g-greetings, I didn't expect to meet you here.." the thumps of your heart beat like a hummingbird's.

"Carry on little fairy, your ghostly admirers await for you to dance until not only fragile steps have ached but the wings as well. " Your eyebrows furrowed a bit when he said that, poor girl. The complex prose had muddled your thoughts!

"Aren't you a little uncomfortable watching from there? There are some seats available." Trying to be at least respectful to one of the Harbingers that allowed you to be under their care.

"Thank you, pardon the interruption." The Jester starts to step closer.

"Did that little dove fly in and entice you for a round of applause? " He asked, out of curiosity.

" Uh.. Well, Miss Sandrone and Miss Columbina have given me the opportunity to do this. " Replied, unsure of how to talk to him. The loud steps of his shoes echoed, which only intimidated a small thing like you. In contrast to your steps, his were like a team of mighty horses trained and bred for battle.

" Do you like it?" Returning the question. With no words to better fit it, he just nodded.

“I’m glad.” You gave a small smile, probably big enough for only a finger to enter. “Not everyone I used to know liked the idea of dancing. Most would call it unbecoming of a lady.” Oh, he can imagine alright. It would be more than enough to make a person go feral, especially with a precious little fairy like you. He got closer, lessening the space between you both. 

"Do you want me to teach you some techniques? Well I don't know much, but I could try and teach you what I know." Your hand outstretched for him, it's a lot smaller than his own gloved covered hand. 

With a bit of hesitance, he took yours.  “Please tell me if you couldn’t keep up okay?” 

Time has passed as none knows what time is. Pierro worked up a bit of sweat despite being in the region of icy tundra, while you had sweat dripping down your head glistening against the soft light, you remained calm and composed.

The dance continued onward, dipping your body down while your leg raised. There are times in the duet, where you had separated from him, he had to go after you. He never felt so young in his lifetime of misery and duty, chasing after a dame. Keeping you close to him for the majority of the session. Enjoying the most whenever he spun you around. But he is delighted when you go away from him only to run, and perch upon his shoulder. Like a trained little canary, letting out a melodious giggle.

Though in turn he too surprised you. The next time your body dips down, his hands quickly scooped you up, swaying your body until he held you over his shoulder. His strong hand on your belly, near your under breasts. He earned an astonished sound from your lips. 

In the end Pierro himself had to let go of the sweet fairy, letting you twirl around. Like his own soul now twain. The warmth of your delicate hands, the feel of his hands on your body. He had wondered if you would willingly jump into his arms if the opportunity reveals itself that your initial protector no longer values a sweet little fairy like you. He had this inkling of hope that you would make him a selfish request.

He left, not wanting to stay anymore. He left just as quickly he accepted your bewitching spell placed upon him. Leaving you all confused and sad, thinking you have done something to upset him. You didn’t, it’s just that he has to take swift care of all those thoughts you gave him. Especially with those (color) lips of yours, to taste and use.

I swear I'm going feral while doing this ngl. Who knew that this old man could be attractive? I'm legit questioning my anime men preferences rn…  😂 Ey yo, ya’ll want me to make a part 2 for pierro? and plesse tell me if I use TW right. I just noticed nearly every one uses it.

[storybounded]

Oh my goodness. It has been a good few years since I've seen the live action of Lady and the Tramp. After I showed Twinnie, I vowed to never watch it again, so I had to remind myself why I wasn't a big fan of it with clips I could find. Because my mind basically blocked it out otherwise. Putting it under a read-more because this is going to get long lmao.

But my big take-away is the fact that OG tramp in the animated movie is street-wise but suave. And even if he had a obviously playful and trickster side to him that liked to cause chaos for fun of it, he had an air of dignity and scruffy debonair. A gentleman.

And despite his circumstances on the streets, he was still social and mostly well-liked by the the other street dog peers who talked of him. Of course, he won't get a long with everyone, but in the animated movie, it came across that he was pretty popular among other strays. Either for the way he helped them out of a tough spot, or how he was quite the lady's man.

And yeah, he is pessimistic about the life of a dog after a baby comes around, but it never bled into other facets of his personality.

LA Tramp is pessimistic and honestly extremely rude and solitary. A dick, long story short. The alarm bells that rang in my head the moment he showed his true colors on screen... and I knew this was going to be a twist I wasn't going to like. This was 10-13 minutes in the movie. First of all, There was that homeless puppy scene at the start. LA Tramp showed himself to be more possessive to the point of being an asshole. Not afraid to sling insults to LITTLE PUPS. Children, practically. And even if he eventually gave and gifted them their stolen sandwich, the insults did not stop there. Sure, those puppies were trying to hustle him for food, but there wasn't any excuse for him to be such fouled tempered.

I can't see the OG tramp slinging insults at puppies. TBH, he is a complete push-over with the little scamps. He would unashamedly use the baby-talk with them, and humor them with a little bit of play. It seemed like a daily part of his morning routine.

Then the dog - catcher scene with Peg and Bull came quickly afterwards. OH god, this is where we see the LA's ass-hole nature truly SHINE and one that I remember the most.

Whereas OG Tramp was HELLA concerned about his pals and immediately jumped into action and freed them...

Live action Tramp seemed extremely frustrated and acted as if his old pals were a burden on him. He did not jump straight in, and instead complained under his breath. In fact, he was WILLING to look the other way and let his friends be toted off to the pound if they hadn't already seen him. Peg and Bull literally had to talk their way into being freed and tramp still did not seem amused.

Another scene that I don't remember with fondness is the 'Rabies' scene. Like I UNDERSTAND that they could not have a animal fight in a disney live action talking-dog movie. It wouldn't have shed a good light on adopting dogs who need it. But instead, they took a route that made both Lady and Tramp look absolutely foolish and dumb. What was once a serious scene was turned into a joke.

She was already freaked out and not used to her muzzle, and the first thing he does? Called her annoying. Made her look bad in front of other strangers.

Lady is a dog who cares a lot for her image...but in the LA they made her go along with it and be okay with it. Made her roll around in trash and old unrefrigerated / dirty sausages, something the OG would've never done. She said she 'felt alive' after the fact. Yes, I am highly aware this was all for show to make the dumb dog believe his equally dumb lie, but... this rubbed me the wrong way. 🙃

But then he proceeded to be a bit of a jerk to her. Made it feel like they were 'even' rather than be respectful of her predictament.

Whereas in the OG movie, Lady was obviously still freaked out and downtrodden after Tramp came in to help, and did not in fact 'feel alive'. Tramp was worried and concerned, because this dog is used to the pampered life, and the last he saw her, she was happily at home. But now, she is out on the streets and is stuck inside a muzzle of all things? He felt pity and sad for her. He wanted to help her make it better.

I don't know, the LA didn't have the same impact. They could've not turned Lady's fears into a joke, but they could've also not done any fights either.

There are other problems I have with LA Tramp, but these are the main points I wanted to specify before I get long winded haha. But yeah, these are some of the many reasons why I don't like the new LA tramp. I might make a part two later, I don't feel like talking about this movie anymore right now LMAO.

The only points I'll give the LA movie are the cute doggos, and they have far more expressions than the L.ion L.ing LA LMAO.

[lumiereandcogsworth]

hmm, 6 and 22 for the movie list? this will be fun because i actually hardly ever watch live action movies so no matter how "iconic" the movies you watched were, i probably won't have seen them either lol!

that is so valid!!! i’ve always been the person that was like “no i haven’t seen that, but i want to!!” or “yes i’ll for sure add it to the list!! (the list does not exist)” and finally i just decided to set out and watch a bunch of movies. and it’s honestly been SO fun for me, i feel like i’ve found a new hobby. it’s a time consuming one, i will admit, but it’s been a fun ride :) i’m already planning next year’s movies 🤭

anyway!!

6. Annie Hall (1977) — oh yes i really adored this one. it somehow made me feel both pessimistic and optimistic about romance all in one foul swoop. it was really funny and i REALLY loved all its little quirks, such as breaking the fourth wall, giving internal dialogue captions while a separate conversation is going on, and just its overall silliness whilst not overshadowing the realness of life. definitely worth a watch !!

22. Serendipity (2001) — i will preface with the fact that i am not a big romcom person ! but this is one that i’d been wanting to see, so i threw it in the jar. and i’m glad i did!! it was funny and dumb and romantic !!! the silly soulmatism of it all. like you KNOW how it’s going to end but it really does end in such a lovely crescendo :”)

send me a number 1-50!

[viewer-of-many]

A dove, really flamboyant and loves to show off his magic tricks to anyone who takes interest in magic.

"ahh~ greetings fellow bots, welcome, right this way, you're about to see the fantastic magician himself, me! Ohohohoho!"

Taxidermied Canadian swallowtail butterfly, she always felt a heavy weight on her. She felt envious of Curionia. Always sad and pessimistic about life.

"this is so... Sad... You tried so hard impressing everyone... You didn't take care of yourself... I'm so sorry..."

Daddy longlegs, the one who loves to do tricks, and make horrible boring jokes on everyone. He's just happy to be alive!

"wow! This is un-Bee-lievable! Haha, get it? Because there's a bee botbot, no? Ok"

Dessert Rosy boa, calm and collected, but she does acknowledge her foul smell. But she is definitely a sensei type of bot.

"you bots really need to work on your footwork more, you'll run as sloppy as that hoagie over there, now again! But stiff up those shoulders!"

Tarantula, this bot really likes to play "hunt". He'd sneak up on someone and teasing them after an almost painful nibble.

"aw~ come on! It wasn't that painful! It was a little bite!"

Ball python, a very well mannered bot. Compared to the other animal botbots, who have to deal with their beast instincts, he has full control of his.

"oh me? It's true, I don't really worry about my instincts... I can control it, I don't know why, maybe it has to do with my brain or something like that"

Scorpion, absolutely a massive prick! He doesn't have any respect for anyone! Anybody who is a higher status than him, he'll try his way to squish them down lower to him. He loves the infamy he gets.

"why don't you wusses get your stupid whiney flashlight out of my turf, or else!"

Corn snake, so silly and fun! Always the best in personality!

"so what are we going to do today? Is it a game or a super cool party? C'mon! You gotta tell me! I just can't contain myself!"

Rhinoceros beetle, a very strong warrior. He wishes that he'd get to face his greatest opponent one day, but right now, he's a bit old

"*sigh* you there! Yes, bonsai tree, what's your name? Bonz-eye? Interesting, I saw you wield that sword, who made it for you? That's a fine blade you got there"

Dung beetle, he's just as gross and weird as Clogstopper.

"YO! What's up? Oh this? It's just my ball of poop, wanna touch it?"

Cicada: absolutely a loud little piece of sh- he can't shut up.

"HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU! YOU'RE SO QUIET, SPEAK UP!"

Betta fish, an absolute escape artist. She loves to try and escape any containment. Also a criminal.

"hah! You really think this translucent tank can keep me in? Amateurs!"

(I won't be able to name the spider botbots, since that means looking up details about their alt modes, and I am very afraid of them.)

Risori the Ring Master(The type of dove used in magic tricks is Streptopelia risoria, the Barbary or Ringneck dove. He specializes in ring based magic tricks)

Pinpilio(taxidermy can also be called pinning, and Papilio is the genus of swallowtails)

Sonorgata(Sonoran Desert, where rosy boas can live, and trivirgata, the scientific name)

King Coils(ball pythons are also called royal pythons, and they like to coil up)

Sculstinger(A Centruroides sculpturatus)

Kerophi(kernels, like corn, and Pantherophis, the genus name)

Aloeox(Strategus aloeus, the ox beetle)

Saceroll(Scarabaeus sacer. has ball, will roll.)

Decibre(Brevisana brevis, the loudest insect in the world.)

Betti Byrin(Betta fish are in the Anabantoidei suborder, also referred to as labyrinth fish, due to a special organ they have)

[theaudacitytowrite]

Stay awake! (Sneak peek)

Part 1 is out!

A/N: Here's a little sneak peek of my upcoming Dean Winchester fic.

Since I finally started watching Supernatural, I'd say to expect a Season 1 -esque storyline... aka horror that's not really scary^^

I just wanted to see what you guys think of the beginning so far and if it's too slow-paced. The actual fic will be around 10k and play over the course of a week. So it takes a while to reach the climax of the story.

So... enjoy!

word count: 1.186

Dean’s feet lazily dragged over the ground. He groaned and huffed, sometimes a yawn would leave his throat.

„Come on, big boy. Let’s try it here.” you dragged him behind you while holding his hand so he would actually follow you.

You stepped up to the bed and breakfast, a rustic little single-family house. Dean and you were in desperate need of a place to stay the night. You had just finished a gruelling hunt and were beyond exhausted. But so far you hadn’t had any luck. All the motels in the area were booked.

“We can just sleep in Baby,” Dean muttered groggily.

“So you can whine about your sore back for the next couple of days?” you looked over your shoulder to look at him with a raised brow, “No thanks.”

"I wanna go home! My feet hurt, my back aches already and I'm tired! We've been on our feet the past 3 days!" he whined, pouting like a little overtired child.

“I know, my feet hurt just as bad and I’ve been awake just as long as you, you little baby.” you teased, “And I want to go home, too, but I don’t think it would be a good idea to drive another 5 hours to get home, while you nor I can keep our eyes open.” Dean grumbled but seemed to follow you more willingly now as he heard your reasoning.

When you entered the B&B a foul smell made its way to your nose immediately. It was sweet yet sour at the same time. You were surrounded by weird-looking paintings, figurines, and a collection of creepy dolls. It was quite dusty and weirdly gloomy in the house, and something just didn't feel right.

"Since when are bed and breakfasts worse than motels?" Dean muttered into your ear as he tried to not touch anything while walking through the small, crammed foyer to head to the unoccupied front desk.

"I don't know. We rarely visit bed and breakfasts." you shrugged as you let your gaze wander through the odd room. Dean scrunched his nose and almost pressed himself against you as he followed you like a shadow.

"Something wrong?" you glanced at him with an amused look.

"Nah." he shook his head and took a step back, "Just hurry up and ring the bell, so we can leave again."

“Leave again? You don’t think they have any vacant rooms?” you chuckled, “You’re so pessimistic.”

“I hope they have no free rooms.” Dean huffed.

"We have to tell Sam about this cosy little B&B. He'll love it here!" you snickered as your eyes roamed over the décor.

"He sure would…" Dean pressed his lips together, trying to breathe as little as possible. He bumped into you when you suddenly halted your steps, your gaze fixed on the fireplace in the next room.

"Do you see that doll?" you pointed in the direction of the fireplace. On top of it sat a little wooden doll with a rancid-looking dress. What caught your attention was, besides her size of an actual baby, her fluent movements. The doll seemed to wave in your direction, a wide grin plastered on her face.

"You mean that spawn of hell that creepily waves at us?" Dean dryly asked.

“Mhm… unnerving.” you hummed, completely focused on the doll.

„Good evening!“ the warm voice of an elderly woman suddenly chimed up, making you and Dean jump. “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to scare the two of you.”

“All good.” you chuckled, clutching your heart.

“How can I help the two of you?” the woman smiled endearingly.

“We were wondering if you still have a room available for one night. We tried every motel and hotel, but they’re all booked.”

“Yes, my dear. We still have enough rooms.” the woman quickly looked through her little notebook, “We got two with single beds and another free one with a double.”

“I wonder why…” Dean muttered next to you, earning a swift nudge from your elbow into his ribs.

“We would love to take the one with the double bed.” you smiled sweetly at the woman.

After checking in the old woman led you to your room. To your relief, the room itself was much brighter and less smelly than the foyer. And even the number of dolls was drastically lower and the décor was much more modern.

“Heh… weird.” Dean chuckled as he looked through the room.

“What?” you hummed as you rummaged through your bag.

“Isn’t that the doll that sat on the fireplace downstairs?” Dean inclined his head as he approached the doll that sat on an old commode.

“Maybe she got two?” you shrugged, heading into the bathroom to take a shower.

"Mhm." was Dean's only response as he inspected the doll. It seemed like there were no mechanics at all. Still, her motions were so fluent and lively. Dean carefully picked her up to not break her. He pulled away the crunchy feeling fabric as he searched for the battery pocket but couldn't find one, no matter where he looked.

"Must be some kind of solar thing," he murmured to himself and shrugged. He plucked down the little dress the doll was wearing when an idea popped into his mind, a mischievous grin spreading on his lips.

As you returned from the shower and opened the door, you jumped immediately.

“For fucks sake, Dean!” you growled as the doll sat in front of the bathroom door, smiling sympathetically at you as she waved. Dean meanwhile was giggling while lying on the bed, elated that he had scared you successfully.

“Got you!” he cackled triumphantly, making you roll your eyes at him.

“You're lucky I love you.”

“I know.” he smiled sweetly, before heading for a shower himself, pecking your cheek swiftly as he passed you.

The two of you soon settled down in bed, overripe for a good night’s sleep. Dean was out almost immediately as his head hit the pillow. You on the other hand seemed not so lucky.

You lay wide awake in the bed, not knowing why. All you wanted to do was sleep. Maybe it was the unfamiliar surroundings, maybe it was the rest of the adrenaline from the hunt that still ran through your veins. And it didn’t help that Dean was felling trees right next to you. One day you’d smother him if he wouldn’t get that snore checked out.

You jumped slightly when there was a soft thud echoing through the room. You glanced at the clock that stood on the bedside table. A few minutes past 3a.m. You glanced at Dean who was still fast asleep, completely unbothered by the sound. He really was exhausted.

You sat up in the bed and scanned the room. You chuckled when you realised that your duffle bag had fallen from a chair onto the ground. You lay back down and sigh, trying to give sleep another try. You nuzzled against Dean who quickly encased you in a hug, pulling you against his chest. You hummed contently and finally managed to drift off to sleep.

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know:)

[dcwnthercbbithcle]

⚕️𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐒.

For Ophelia / SCP - 8713

Bold for traits that are always accurate Italics for traits that are situationally accurate

absent-minded  |  abusive  |  addict  |  adrenaline  junkie  |  aggressive  |  aimless  |  alcoholic  |  anxious  |  arrogant  |  audacious  |  bad  liar  |  bigmouth  |  bigot  |  blindly  loyal  |  blunt  |  callous  |  childish  |  chronic  heroism  |  cheater  |  clingy  |  clumsy  |  cocky  |  codependent  |  competitive  |  corrupt  |  cowardly  |  cruel  |  cynical  |  delinquent  |  delusional  |  dependent  |  depressed  |  deranged  |  disloyal  |  ditzy  |  egotistical  |  envious  |  erratic  |  fickle  |  finicky  |  fixated  |  flaky  |  frail  |  fraudulent  |  foul  mouthed  |  guilt complex  |  gloomy  |  gluttonous  |  gossiper  |  gruff  |  grudgeholding  |  gullible  (always wants to believe the best in people ) |  hedonistic  |  humorless  |  hypochondriac  |  hypocritical  |  idealist  |  idiotic  |  ignorant  |  immature  |  impatient  |  incompetent  |  indecisive  |  insecure  |  insensitive  |  lazy  |  lewd  |  liar  |  lustful  |  manipulative  |  masochistic  |  meddlesome  |  melodramatic  |  money-loving  |  moody  |  naïve  |  nervous  |  nosy  |  ornery  |  overprotective  |  overly  sensitive  |  paranoid  |  passive-aggressive  |  perfectionist  |  pessimist  |  petty  |  power-hungry  |  proud  |  possessive  |  pushover  |  reckless  |  reclusive  |  remorseless  |  rigorous  |  sadistic  |  sarcastic  |  senile  |  selfish  |  self-destructive  |  shallow  |  sociopathic  |  sore  loser  |  spineless  |  spiteful  |  spoiled  |  stubborn  |  suspicious  |  tactless  |  temperamental  |  timid  |  thief  |  tone-deaf  |  traitorous  |  unathletic  |  ungracious  |  unlucky  |  unsophisticated  |  untrustworthy  |  vain  |  withdrawn  |  workaholic

Tagged by: No one! I am a sneaky little thief in the night!

Tagging: all of @scp-040-jp, @anomalous-river, @krvegerr's roleplay blogs! @abel-uncontained, @o5-10 & @o5oflies, @tempest-toss (for muses of your choice!)

[chaoticbard]

👋 hi. i am here to return sweet words. I LOVE ALAARA. i think one thing that stands out, and i hope it's on purpose, is how much of a little chatterbox she is. i love characters who yap and get carried away 🥺 it's also very interesting to hear her train of thought in your narration. she's so interested in the world .... childlike wonder doesn't seem like the right word because she's not like, stupidly innocent, but she's naturally curious. i love it.

She's a bard; I felt like she would be chatty and drawn-out when speaking because of it. She could be even more yappy is what's arguably frightening. I'd also say that it was a bit subconsciously added as well, since I can yap a lot too at times.

Also- Alaara is someone I wish I could be. She isn't remotely innocent or naive about the world like you said. She's seen and experienced many foul things. But never once has she considered being pessimistic about life. It's almost toxic how positive and hopeful she is, but she can't do anything but give the finger to life and persist anyway. She also can't help but to poke her nose into anything and everything. She wants to learn, to experience. Funny enough, that originates from actual dice rolls gone wrong way back when she was run through Dragon Heist at the gaming table; she's legit cursed to roll low on most things despite her good stats when it really matters. Gives me really great content. 😂

[metella-sedet-in-atrio]

YEAHHHH JOHN LOCKE AND HIS SEXY SEXY SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY SO TRUE BBGORL

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

My Soulmate

Synopsis: In a world where partners are predetermined by a string on your finger, what happens to those afraid to love?

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Comfort, Fluff Warnings: Mentions of tears and fear

~ * ~ You never truly believed in soulmates. Your parents would tell you stories during cold or rainy evenings, sitting you down by the fireplace and settling in their matching armchairs to tell you the riveting tale of how they met on a sunny afternoon, by decree of their soulmate thread.

It’s a story you knew, and still know, by heart, so often they told you; but every time they’d still gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes when they finished, and you’d sit on the carpet near that old, crackling fireplace, absolutely bored silly. The fact that your eternal partner was determined by the little string tied around your pinky disturbed and irritated you, even when you were young and wide-eyed at the world. Why should a bit of stray thread, of all things, get to choose who you were predestined to be with? When you took to adulthood your skepticism only grew, as the people around you called it. Stop being so pessimistic! They’d say. You’ll find your soulmate one day! They’d sing, loud and shrill in your sensitive ears. And you, as always, doubted it, too caught up in your work to think of something as silly as love. Your view of the world was confirmed, in your eyes, when you took up a job at Bubu Pharmacy as an assistant medic. Doctor Baizhu, short of life and vitality yet seemingly much older than his young appearance, never found his soulmate. Herbalist Gui, immersed in his studies, had no intention to go searching for his eternal partner. And little Qiqi, the sweet and forgetful zombie, would never grow old enough to find her soulmate. When you first saw them, your three friends, your makeshift family, you’d smiled. Really smiled, not the fake, placating ones of norm. It felt… good to be around people not obsessed over their threads, people with actual lives to live. Besides, no one ever mentioned the heartbreak that came when soulmates decided they didn’t love one another. An entire life waiting, only to be disappointed. No, you refuse to let yourself be crushed like that. So you stifle your heart, harden it against the world begging you to love. Your pen glides quickly over the paper, signing the form with a flourishing swirl. So many sweet-scented herbs are needed for the Rite of Descension, and with every completed form you bring out more and more sachets of flowers and dried herbs, sliding them to the soldiers to be brought to Lady Ningguang in your own absence. Pharmacy workers are too busy to attend the Rite, but everyone has a part to play. The soldiers depart with a wave of your hand, and Baizhu emerges from the backroom, holding a few boxes for restocking with his usual smile. Qiqi’s trundling in from her last herb collection spree when you all hear the screams and yells of alarm, then the sound of Millelith boots on pavement, rushing towards the northwestern stairwell of the city amidst the shouting of the citizens. You stare at Baizhu, who stares back, and you can tell from her normally sleepy eyes that Qiqi is staring at both of you. You all shrug, and return to restocking the shelves, so empty and barren from the Rite. The Pharmacy has no standing nor alliance among the Millelith, so none of you particularly care. Everyone outside is still yelling, running around like chickens with their heads cut off, and one particularly passionate stranger runs into the building with a shout. “Rex Lapis is dead! The Archon of Geo is dead!” You look at Baizhu, your source of guidance who looks skeptical at best. He thanks the person, but turns away and clicks his tongue once they leave the building, clearly doubting their words. Somehow you think his judgment holds more weight- Baizhu’s always been mysteriously quiet about what he does and doesn’t know. With a flick of his finger he returns you to your duties, disappearing into the backroom and not reemerging for the rest of the day. The next week is filled with nothing but rumors and whispering, the Harbor citizens both frightened and spreading fear, gossip and stories about how the Rite, oh the sacred Rite! went wrong. Baizhu says to keep your head down, and you can see that he and Gui are doing the same, for his sake and the Pharmacy’s. Even Qiqi’s herb-hunting trips become quick, simple in-and-out excursions as to not draw attention.  You’re reading off a list of supplies Qiqi forgot one day- Mint, Qingxin, Jueyun Chili (for eating!)... eyes scanning the paper, when you feel it. A light tug on your pinky. Your eyes fly open and you jerk your head down towards your ever-white soulmate thread, heart jumping in shock. The tug fades as quickly as it came, your little finger sticking out slightly towards where it came from- out the door and into the Harbor, which is anywhere in your small, limited world. You blink once, then furiously to clear your head. It’s a mistake, it must have been- that’s all it was, just a small error, and you look back down at the slip of paper, not taking in any of the words. You curl your hand into a fist, as if willing your string to hide itself, in all its light pink glory. The evening monotony is broken by a strange blonde Traveler and their little flying companion hastily ordering a large packet of herbs. It’ll take a few days, you remind them, but they pay the price and run, almost flying down the steps with how fast they’re sprinting. A few days later is when you venture out to find the mysterious Traveler, glad to get out of the Pharmacy, where everyone talks of Rex Lapis’ death and nothing else. You just roll your eyes, quietly, when you’re alone. You don’t care for the Archons and their worshippers’ blind devotion. The Traveler emerges from Liuli Pavilion, and you envy their apparent wealth as you call out and beckon them over. Instructions slip out of your mouth for each herb, unable to help yourself as you point to each flower and stalk, slightly nervous under the scrutiny of the Traveler’s companions- a formally-dressed man with dark brown hair, and a ginger-haired man clothed in gray. Your pinky gives a sharp, sudden tug and you blink in surprise before whipping your head up, looking past the Traveler’s eyes. Your gaze meets with one of deep ocean blue, a rich and vibrant color that’s oddly lifeless and lacking light, and you shiver. The Traveler taps your shoulder and you stumble over your words, thanking them for their purchase and turning away to the Pharmacy. You almost run as you attempt to walk normally away from the Traveler and the other gaze piercing your back, ice crawling through your veins at the feeling of eyes watching your every move And you steadfastly ignore your string darkening to a pastel red. If soulmate threads can malfunction, yours must certainly be ripe for repairs. Days pass quickly, your string giving insistent tugs all throughout dawn till dusk, and you ignore each with growing steeliness. The Traveler drops into Pharmacy the next day to purchase Everlasting Incense, and you’re stocking the back when a boisterous laugh erupts through the building, your string pulling so fiercely that you nearly trip and drop the crate of dried Qingxins you’re holding. The laughter devolves into a conversation about “Cocogoat milk” and you smile at Qiqi’s little quips. Your eyes meet ocean blue again when you step out, and the same ginger-haired man gives you a gentle nod as he departs, the Traveler in tow. Your throat closes up with that simple gesture, and you spend the rest of the day fuming at yourself. The man begins appearing on the streets more, wherever you go, and every time he gives you a wave and a lopsided smile. You don’t know him. You don’t know who he is, even if you somehow feel like you do as your heart twists and little finger aches. You’re torn between being tentatively hopeful and being afraid. Traveler invites you to look for wild Glaze Lilies that evening with them and Zhongli, the man with brown hair and owner of the most soothing voice you’ve ever heard. Quiet song activates the flowers, opening their petals towards the full moon, and the Traveler picks one with an icy blue bloom. You prefer one with darker blue petals and small white speckles, but you leave it to happily grow alone. The next day, the Traveler asks you to join their adventure, even if just for a little bit. They’re obviously caught up in something, and yet they still have time to inquire about your soulmate thread, which they lack. You shrug and stick out your pinky, the string now a dull red, and they remark with more excitement than you that you must be getting close to finding your partner. Ha. As if someone like you would ever be graced with a soulmate. Not that you want one, of course, is what you still insist after all these years. You’re not sure when you’ll stop lying to yourself. Perhaps once it was true, but now you’re simply a coward, scared and afraid and with a heart too raw and sensitive for the harsh reality of life. The Traveler nods, but there’s the hints of a smile on their face as they lead you up the path to the Golden House. Your brows arch curiously, but their expression is suddenly grim so you decide to leave the questions for later as they shove the doors open. The Exuvia- or as you and Baizhu like to call it, Rex Lapis’ dead body, floats like a grotesque decoration surrounded by golden mora. The Traveler takes a step, and a sudden pit in your stomach opens and grows, anxiety clawing at your insides as a sense of foreboding floods through you. A voice comes suddenly from another side of the building, and the ginger-haired man- the very same you continuously see and exchange glances with- stands, eyes dull and blank. The Traveler and their floating friend jump back in surprise, and they call him Childe. But he calls himself Tartaglia, the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger. You string begins to pull and strain, and you yank it back and curl your hand into a defiant fist, but you swear you still see Childe- Tartaglia- his head turn slightly to glance at you, blank eyes softening like he’s asking for forgiveness. The pit in your stomach caves and opens more in realization. Wait… Don’t… Then fire flares before you and you stumble back, snapping your hands back from the wall of flames that shields you from the battle between Childe and the Traveler. You despise violence, yet you can’t help but watch, the two opponents equal in skill and strength but differing with the Traveler’s silence and Childe’s laughter. That laugh… It’s joyful, almost mad, with a crave for battle- yet you find yourself adoring it. Hydro congeals and twists and suddenly vanishes, crackling into burning Electro dancing upon a fierce double-sided spear. Quickly, you do a count of how many supplies you’ve stowed in your bag. Just in case. But that ends as quickly as it started, and Childe’s vanished before reappearing beside the Exuvia and plunging his hand in it, met with cries of horror from the Traveler and their pixie friend. Seconds tick by, and Childe pulls his hand out, cupped and empty, lacking whatever it is he was trying to find. There’s silence, hanging heavily in the air, before he turns, rage quiet and dripping off of every word. There’s little yelling, but you can tell he’s furious as he envelops himself in a bubble of Hydro and Electro. What bursts out from beneath the elements is beautiful- horribly, twistedly beautiful. Childe’s grown twice his normal height, adorned with shining armor the color of night and a deep red mask, the same color as the string wrapped around your finger. The mask twists into two pointed horns, a single pearlescent eye in the center, and you swear there’s something like stars floating behind him, a gorgeous, glittering cape. Your pinky pulls, your skin pressing painfully into the string, and the floor of the Golden House collapses as Childe, or what Childe’s become, slams his spear downwards. Something flashes in his eye as he watches you tumble downwards. You and the Traveler fall, hands clawing through the air before you land in the lower level, the impact jolting the bones in your body and knocking the wind out of you. You struggle to your feet, accepting the Traveler’s extended hand, and realize with a flash of horror that you’re in the arena, with no wall of fire to protect you from any bursts of elemental power. Holding your ribs, you wheeze and inhale, trying to breathe properly, and the Traveler lets you lean on them, because they’re not moving. No one is moving. Everyone is standing, still as stone, waiting for something, and you look up to find Childe staring intently at you. Fear runs through your veins as he floats over, not even grazing the floor in his new form, but the terror somehow cools and subsides when he kneels before you, not breaking eye contact. With all the care in the world, he slowly lifts his left hand, clawed fingers held open and apart. A thread. A thread on his pinky, red as blood and connected, connected to yours. You lift your head back up to meet his gaze, and your thread unravels and dissolves, the sign of a soulmate finally met. Something akin to light glimmers in Childe’s eye for the first time since you’ve met him, and he breaks into a wide, fanged grin. Suddenly you’re scooped into a tight hug, Childe cradling your body like you’re made of glass. You’re leaning against his chest, breathless and tearful, and a strong rumble reaches your ears; such a sweet sound from a bestial creature like him. Soulmate. The voice thrums, both in Childe’s chest and your head. Soulmate- Mine. Childe purrs when he says this, pressing you closer, and you find your hands trailing up and carefully scratching under his chin, the purrs growing in intensity and volume. His claws skirt over your ribs, resting on them as an apology for making you fall, for making you hurt and hurt, having regretted it the moment he did it. Soulmate- I’m so sorry. Forgive me? His mask bumps against your face, much akin to a cat, and he croons in relief when you reach out to cup his cheeks. Soulmate. I love you. I love you, I love you. This mantra he repeats over and over again, now snuggling his face into the top of your head and cooing over how wonderful you are, how nice your genuine smile is, how you’re you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Mine. My soulmate. And for the first time ever, you believe it.