#so he would push so many boundaries while also trying to “wait” until he’s given permission

[loststarphounix]

now that we got that question out of the way...

how about the vice versa? despair!kazuichi x non-despair!gundham?

would their situation be the same with the stockholm syndrome and all?

That’s a good question! And my answer would be…maybe.

The difference between Kazuichi and Gundham in this is their personality and response to isolation. Kazuichi would fall much quicker than Gundham because his response to violence and domination are freeze and flight due to his dad’s constant abuse as a child. While Gundham was also being abused by his dad, he had his mom and he felt strength protecting her and by extension others before himself, which makes his response to violence fight. That makes a big difference because Kazuichi has to literally keep Gundham chained to prevent him from escaping.

He wouldn’t hurt the breeder intentionally and tries desperately to give him creature comforts and even makes him robotic animals to “care” for (he did give him actual mice once but they somehow managed to pick the knock of the cage). He’s given his own room, with a lock on the outside, a four poster bed, bordered down chairs, desks etc. And cameras monitoring him 24/7. Kazuichi is obsessively watching the live video feed, since Gundham will refuse to see for days at a time. Even when he’s supposed to be working on towards nuclear fallout, he’ll still live stream the room on all his monitors so as to not miss anything.

Gundham had at first denied Kazuichi entrance to his room or his company, but he eventually caves due to loneliness and the need to see if he can break through to the other. It seemed to him that the once bumbling mechanic was under a dark spell. Perhaps he can deduce the root cause and free them both from this curse. But it seems to only make Kazuichi ecstatic when he finally invites him inside his room and immediately begins to demand more - of his time, of his voice, of his touch. He wants all of Gundham and the goth walks a very, very thin line of denying these advances and giving Kazuichi a little bit.

After awhile, I think Kazuichi would get bored of this - the despair isn’t given new stimuli and so he decides to push boundaries. Normally, he wouldn’t do this intentionally, but he isn’t normal anymore, is he? His a Remnant and the world he controls is shared with 14 other people. He shouldn’t have to pussyfoot around the love of his life object of his desire if he didn’t want to. Which pushes Gundham just a bit because ya know, a crazy mechanic is demanding more of him in a stressful situation.

I can’t help but think Kazuichi would take it as a sign of love, due to his Despair fueling his degradation kink lol 😈 Gundham kinda gives in for his sanity’s sake, but he hopes to help Kazuichi and get him free from Junko’s grasp. There seems to be moments of lapses - a flicker of hope here and there. Maybe all is not lost.

[endeavvor]

How many times have they found themselves in this exact position - pushing the boundaries of what exists between them while attempting to maintain the brittle balance of denial? How easy would it be for Kirk to fill the space left only for him to occupy? To step forward, bury himself in the warm comfort he knows is waiting just a few inches away. He wants to know intimately the scent that would overwhelm his senses at just taste of the crook of his neck.

He wants it so desperately that he's convinced himself it is why he can never have it.

It's why he simply watches with bated breath as Spock reaches out. Tracing each slender finger as it hovers over his own hand with slightly parted lips and a question poised on the tip of his tongue. Why he relinquishes the grasp on one of the objects he holds most dear to entrust it to the other. Because what has been shared here between them has never been shared with anyone else. It is more than the feelings raging through him, but the history that comes with it.

Kirk is visibly trembling, and it is only his desk that keeps him standing - though he suspects should he falter, he would not be allowed to fall.

"Spock, I -"

Whatever he was going to say is lost to the interruption of the intercom. It does not cut through the tension between them, but it does shake the captain from his daze. Gone is the vulnerability and openness he'd had moments ago, as if a door has been firmly shut, replaced with a carefully constructed mask. All of this done while maintaining the Vulcan's gaze, giving him privy of each carefully constructed layer raised between them.

"We're on our way."

He says instead and flees his quarters and the moment shared.

The tension follows to the bridge, but shifts as it resonates outwardly to the crew. It is, unfortunately, still deeply personal, but different. Kirk knows without asking they've already looked and have seen what awaits them. He knows as soon as the order is given for a visual on the main screen, that he's going to be met with a ghost: The Kelvin.

It's there, impossibly. Though not perfect. The hull has experienced damage, and the ship is missing large pieces of itself, but it is still in tact enough that some life could have been sustained. But twenty-six years of it?

"Any response to attempts to hail it?" He asks Uhura.

"None, but we're still trying."

He nods, to be expected, nothing was ever that easy. Which means he's also anticipating the answer to his next question - posed to Sulu and Chekov. "What about initial scans - life, weapons, shields?"

"The shields are down, but we are still unable to determine if what we are picking up is life or something else. It's like trying to see a picture through static." A shrug. "But they aren't pointing weapons at us, so it's possibly a good sign? If there is something, it's not hostile."

"Well then." It leaves them with really only one potential way forward. "As long as we don't know what's going on inside the ship, I don't want to risk beaming over. Spock and I will take a shuttle across, get a closer look, and if we determine we can board, we will. Otherwise, any sign that this is not what it is presenting itself to be, we'll pull back and reassess."

"Do you want to notify Starfleet?" Uhura asks, and he levels her with an unreadable gaze.

"Not yet. Not until we fully know what we have. But I do want you to continue attempting to open a line of communication. Even if no one is there."

This time when he turns to his XO again, it's not to attempt to leave him in charge, "Spock, with me."

These moments on the bridge always seem to go by in a blur. There one moment, done the next. Kirk feels as if all he has to do is blink and they are done, back in the lift, this time heading further down into the depths of the ship. Locked in the confined space, running on adrenaline, the tension returns two fold. He knows his voice is strained with it when he speaks.

"I'm maintaining command, but if you think we need to draw back, I will default to your logical assessment of the situation."

@fasciinating

INSIDE THE CAPTAIN’S QUARTERS, IT only just occurs to him that he has never fully been inside it. Following after Kirk, Spock stops within the boundaries of the door, momentarily stunned by that knowledge as his eyes drink in the sight of such an unfamiliar place.

Their recent chess games have unfolded in other locations: the rec room, an empty conference room, once in the living space of Spock’s quarters but never here. He finds pieces of Kirk that have been hidden from him. There are books, physical copies that he suddenly desires to reach for, curious to its materials and the sensation of paper on his fingers.

They litter the floor, the shelving, stacked precariously in a way that makes Spock itch, a part of his mind simultaneously warring for organization of every last one and to discover their contents.

Kirk is undeniably well-read. And yet, Spock has never given thought to what context may be responsible for Kirk’s indelible imagination. It prompts him to stare at Kirk’s back, sweeping inevitably across the broad line of Kirk’s shoulders, tracing down one arm until he lands on a pair of optical lenses—

He blinks, struck briefly by the realization that he lacked awareness in so many singular details before harshly tucking it away. The revelation is unproductive. Kirk requires Spock’s focus, his attention, his advice, and as First Officer, he reminds himself that is more than prepared to deliver it.

Calmly, he breaks the barrier of an invisible line, striding to stand before Kirk and study the device in Kirk’s hand. It appears to be a recorder of some kind, an older model from Earth, Starfleet issued. The deduction of its recording is an easy conclusion that he could make. He doesn’t question it, fairly certain that that feat would be impossible at the barest mention of his home-world.

He should reiterate what regulation would dictate in this matter. A formality, now, and nothing more. Except Spock recognizes his place in this — Kirk will not be hindered from boarding whatever they find; if it were Vulcan — and instead, he tells him, “ So, it will. ”

Then simply listens, quietly assessing the obvious vocal patterns of Captain George Kirk and comparing it to his memory of the earlier signal. The context of the message is devastating, weighted heavily with emotional distress. But Spock remains defunct of compromise in opposition to Kirk, objectively dubious, suspicious, and cautious.

Save for one parallel that he cannot help but derive.

—I love you, said at the edge of sacrifice.

I married her, because I loved her, said over the edge of loss.

And Spock's memory is an insidious weapon against himself: do you know why I came back for you?

“ I agree that the voice composition is remarkably similar between both samples. It is advisable that we, ” together is implied, “ prepare for the possibility that what we have heard, may be something more perilous. " A hoax, a trap, or an absence of hope; Spock is familiar with the danger in disappointment. For a moment, he lingers, hand reaching out to hover over the top of Kirk's hand. Tension fills the space, wanting to complete Spock's gesture, magnetized. He moves to pull the recorder out of Kirk's grasp, the tips of his fingers glancing Kirk's.

" Bridge to Captain Kirk, " a voice cleaves between them, and Spock takes a step back, " We're in range of the signal, sir. You're going to want to see this. "

@endeavvor

[bonesandthebees]

[“Call me Phil, little bird,”] between this and putting Wilbur in the personal wing, feels a little like Phil has claimed him. Like there are a lot of reasons he could have put Wilbur in the personal wing, and I’ll get to those, but part of it is definitely a claim.

Wilbur got another huge upgrade in privilege. He gets to call the emperor by his personal name, his own room in the personal wing for an undetermined amount of time, and whatever that new coat is + access to the personal dinning room. And that on top the being allowed to see Phil whenever he wants and no guards being allowed to touch or hurt him and Phil and Techno’s protection. If that was his goal it would have been impressive, but it’s the opposite.

Wilbur also wonders what will happen when a deal is made. If he goes back with Tommy or if Phil wants him to stay. I think it’s safe to say he’s staying. Like after what Phil has heard about how the people on Eldingvegr treated him, Wilbur’s need to have a use and his unused potential on top of Phil’s care (cuz he does care, that’s been long since confirmed, the question is how much and it is enough to override the political side or not), Phil is not letting him go back there. (I hope, it would be so bad for him, do not send him back).

Also, there’s a lot of development shown in Phil giving his own personal name, but not pushing past to boundary to use Wilbur’s personal name like he did with dropping his title. Getting that permission could be part of why he gave Wilbur his personal name, but they also have enough of a connection to where he could just hand it over. Maybe he did overhear Jack using it and knows it can be earned, so he knows he can earn it too, and he wants to do that.

Also, Wilbur is a hypocrite, he trusts Phil so much to the point of falling asleep, yet still denies trust and win’r hand over his personal name (rightfully so, it’s the one thing he has that no one can tarnish). And then there’s the dining room, I wonder if Wilbur got access to the dining room so Phil could keep an eye on whether he’s eating or not. Though he doesn’t push, he just goes for the indirect route of distraction until Wilbur’s appetite comes back because anxiety is why it’s gone.

Lastly, Phil does know Wilbur, with additional Techno information. So he has a book about Elytra ready, because Techno told him Wilbur likes reading about planet’s culture and history and he’s told Wilbur a lot about himself, so he might as well share something about his home planet.

This concludes the Phil analysis (I hope). It has been really weird to try and look at the chapter through his lens and what he might think. I don't know if I’ll do it again. Also, I’ve been trying really hard to fight my fandom bias even though a huge part of me is screaming that Wilbur has been adopted. So I did try and find other angels or reasonings for what he does. Generally, I think it’s a mix of caring vs using. Can he do both? Yes. Is it healthy? Eh.

(6/6)

-🌲

wilbur has been given so many privileges he didn't ask for at all, and he's still not sure what it all means. phil knows what he's doing, but phil is also kind of impulsive in a sense that he doesn't really give a shit what other people think. he is showing HUGE favoritism to wilbur with all of this, granting a foreign prince so many privileges while not granting the same privileges to the literal crown prince of the planet. that's not something most royals would do just for the implications alone, but phil wasn't born a royal. he doesn't care about the 'standards'. he knows when he needs to give a shit what others think, and he knows when he doesn't. and right now, he doesn't need to care. this is a claim 100%.

hm, guess we'll have to wait and see if wilbur ends up going back :)

the thing is, phil stopped using wilbur's title back when the two of them were playing their power games more than they are now. it was a taunt, an insult to stop using his name to show he had power over wilbur. this was before their relationship developed to what it is now. so now phil knows if he pushes too hard, he might break everything they've developed. things have changed between them, so phil isn't going to try and pull a stunt like using his personal name without permission when he knows full well he can earn it.

oh yeah wilbur is absolutely a hypocrite. he says he doesn't trust phil and then literally puts his safety in phil's hands so many times.

phil does his research on his little bird and knows what kinds of things he likes to do. so he has the book ready because he know when wilbur wakes up after that fight, he's not going to be in a good head space. and sure enough, the book is exactly what wilbur needs

I loved reading your analysis of phil!! he's a very complex character in stars. it's not as simple as 'oh dadza adoption arc' at all, so I'm glad you're trying to look past your fandom bias. I'll tell you you're definitely on a really good track. also, stars isn't about healthy relationships. it's not a happy story about healing in the 'correct' ways from your trauma. it's about forging your own identity and sense of purpose, even if the ways you go about it aren't exactly the best. it's about the balance between genuine care and power plays. it's complicated and that's what makes it so fun for me to write :)

[bloomyagi]

beautiful, beloved, mine (m)

summary: you set him ablaze. he can only hope you like watching him burn for you. alternatively: this love for you is consuming him, and it all comes out in a badly vomited confession after he corners you at a gala.

pairings: shouto todoroki x f!reader

genre: pro heroes au, characters are aged up 20+

warnings: smut, dry humping, shouto comes in his pants, sub!shouto, he’s a good boi for you, he loves you very much n wants to be your baby

length: 2,447

notes: can u tell how much i love him pls -

.

.

.

“Can I be yours?”

Shouto Todoroki, ranked third pro-hero in Japan, has his strong arms braced around your head. In all your years of friendship, he has never been anything but exceedingly polite. He is well-behaved, thoughtful and sharp. He is guarded, though not intentionally, not anymore—it is reflex, a shield he has never really learned to lower. A reminder of his childhood.

You think he’s drunk. He must be, beautiful dual-coloured locks dishevelled, black button-up half-open and exposing his gorgeous collarbone. You watch, unwittingly, as a bead of sweat trickle down his neck. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, biceps flexing.

The dimmed lighting unfairly accosts you with his devastatingly handsome features and muscular body. And his eyes. His heterochromatic eyes are alight with something fierce and intense. They are also clear, glowing, almost, in the dark.

The two of you are somehow on the balcony, shut away from the rest of the world, the bass and the sounds of life fading in your little bubble until all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears, the warmth of his breath, the heat of skin and the fluttering of your heart in your throat. The cement wall digs into your back.

No, you correct yourself. He isn’t drunk. He’s barely tipsy. He doesn’t like to drink, rarely acquiesces to Kirishima’s insistence of shots.

He doesn’t smell like alcohol. His scent has always been calming, detectable under the thin layer expensive cologne he uses—he doesn’t like perfumed smells either, only uses it on nights like these, when he’s obliged to look the part—that fresh, cool scent. Of clean sheets, laundry detergent.

Still, this is out of character. Todoroki has never once crossed a line with you, with anyone. He’s quiet, reserved, though he smiles more now, the forming dimples in the corner of his eyes a living testament to his character growth. He treats others fairly. He is not unkind, honest and straight-forward. He is many things, and with the way he’s gazing down at you now, you are suddenly reminded of Midoriya’s hushed remarks earlier.

“You can’t see it, but Todoroki-kun treats you differently. He thinks about you, what you’d like and what you like. He cares about you so he’s careful around you. He wants to cherish you. He’s cold because he uncertain. He doesn’t know what to do. This is all new to him.”

“What is?”

The number one pro-hero had looked at you strangely. “Being in love.”

Midoriya is indisputably Todoroki’s best friend. Still, his actions are baffling. Why you? Why now? No, you couldn’t see it at all.

“Todoroki, are you drunk?”

“No. Though I required a little … liquid courage, as they say,” he rasps. He’s so close. His voice, so deep and husky, has you biting your lower lip. His gaze falls immediately.

He doesn’t touch you. The way his arms flex, hands clenching and unclenching, and his stiff posture tells you he wants to. He’s visibly restraining himself. Waiting, watching. Hoping.

“You never … why me?” You say softly.

“I could not. I wanted to, so badly. I have always wanted you. I always thought it was impossible for someone like me—to find someone I would want to share my life with, given my upbringing and dysfunctional family. But then things changed, got better, and then I met you.” He takes a shaky breath.

“I found wordless comfort in your mere presence. I found I could be emboldened, empowered, changed by your words. Every day I wondered how I could be worthy of you—if I could ever be worthy of you. Then I realized it was you … it would not matter to you, so long as I was honest with who I was. That is just the kind of person you are …” He shuts his eyes. His lashes are so long, you note absently.

“I am touched by your existence … I find joy in your spirit, yearning for your embrace, for the heat of your skin pressed against mine, I crave it … these foreign desires, they elicit something dark within myself,” he continues, breathing a little ragged now.

“This need, this desperation, like fire spreading in my veins, uncontrollable and hungry … I feel restless, itching for something, someone … Now I finally understand. I feel like I want to—to devour you. It is no longer enough, seeing you as I do, being as we are, mere friends … I want more, need more. With this desire to monopolize, I fear I have become … insatiable,” he trails off, turning his face to the side in shame.

Oh. Shouto Todoroki is in love with you, you realize with a jolt. He longs for you. For your companionship, your wit, your soul and your body. Your heart.

You reach up with a trembling hand to touch his jaw, guiding him until he looked at you once more. He doesn’t resist, pliant and eager as he leans into your hold.

“Only if I can be yours in return,” you say.

He lurches forward, knees nearly giving out as he slumps in your arms. “Oh, thank god, I … I was anxious I would have ruined everything. I knew it was unlikely they would be reciprocated, but I—I had to try,” he gasps. “This desire, it was consuming me.”

“Todoroki …” You thumb his cheekbone. He sighs faintly, body curving over yours as he presses close. “Call me Shouto, please …”

“Shouto.” He makes a strangled noise.

“Again. Please. You must understand, I have longed for this for so long …” He pleads shyly.

“Shouto,” you whisper, stroking his cheek. He’s so unexpectedly adorable. So, so adorable.

“My apologies, darling. I know I’m taking liberties, but I’m weak … I’m not strong enough to resist such temptation. Not while you are here, in front of me like nights when I dared to dream… So beautiful.” He nuzzles your palm.

You flush at his term of endearment, at the rawness of his tone. He has laid himself bare, singing his truth like a Shakespeare sonnet.

“You woo me like you’re waxing poetry … does this often work with others?” You murmur. You think you’re in real danger of melting.

His eyes fly open in alarm. “No. Never. It has only ever been you. I speak only from the heart, I have never—never done this before, am I explaining myself poorly? I am often told my words could use some more tact …”

Your heart swells.

“I’m just teasing, Shouto,” you say softly, combing a hand through his locks apologetically. “Your words are beautiful, I’m touched, truly.”

He relaxes, curling closer in your embrace.

“You don’t know … how I dream of building a home with you, of sharing all my firsts with you, cooking and setting the table with you … breakfast after long nights, filling the space between us with laughter and joy. Sleeping next to you,” he slurs. And then he goes on plainly, “How I fist myself every night thinking of the swell of your hips, the curl of your lips, your sweet, enthralling scent …”

You inhale sharply. Part of you is entirely taken back by the dual-haired hero’s use of uncharacteristically vulgar descriptions. His words drip over you like a honeyed aphrodisiac. Sweet and addictive.

“May I?” He draws closer, hands releasing you to brace against the concrete behind. Your body shivers involuntarily, missing the heat of his palms immediately.

“Yes,” you whisper.

Shouto dips his head, beautiful heterochromatic eyes watching you carefully for any sign of hesitation or indication you wanted to stop. Ever the gentleman.

This is who he is, you realize. Respectful of your boundaries, honest and, with you, gentle. He eyes flutter close when his lips touch yours. They’re warm, sweet with a hint of the alcohol he consumed earlier. Your fingers bury themselves in his locks, the kiss unhurried, savouring each moment.

Then you open your mouth, tongue touching his. And Shouto falters. He groans throatily, your nose tickling at the scent of ash. Ah. He’s losing control. He jerks away quickly, right hand enclosing over his left.

“Don’t tempt me,” he rasps, blush rising.

You snag the rumpled collar of his shirt, pulling him close. “Kiss me again.”

And when you guide his hands over your hips, he grips them tightly and crushes his mouth against yours, kissing you hard. Spit runs down your chins, messy and sensual.

Something hard presses against your inner thigh. You push his legs apart and shove your leg in between. He chokes, eyes rolling back.

“Ngh—!” He gasps. “More—hngg—please!”

You pull back to survey him. He chases after you, lips slick and swollen.

“Shouto. You like this?”

He pauses, sucking in a breath sharply, eyes flickering. And then—

“Yes,” he whispers, a whisp of flame flaring on his left.

Your core clenches over nothing at his needy, humiliated tone.

“I like this too,” you confess, trailing a hand over the ridges of his abdomen, fascinated by the way the muscles clench.

Shouto mewls, chest thrusting forward when you pinch his nipples experimentally through the cotton. “Ah—ughh—yes!”

“Can you come like this?” You wonder absently as you twist his perked nubs harshly. He moans brokenly, hips jerking.

“I—I d-don’t­—kno—hah,” he pants, eyes half-lidded as he struggles to focus. Pleasure clouds his senses, head fuzzy and vision hazy.

“Can you get off here, like this?” You ask softly. “I want to see you come undone.”

Shouto blinks blearily at you, nodding eagerly. “Hng—yes, wanna be good for you,” he slurs. Oh. My. If you weren’t dripping before, you certainly are now.

He stumbles a little as you push him against the wall, switching positions. He’s barely standing at this point, leaning heavily against the cement as he gazes up at you with glazed eyes. He looks utterly fucked out and utterly delectable.

You undo the remainder of his buttons, holding him back firmly when he whines, pawing at the fabric, wanting to rip it off.

“We still have to walk out of here,” you remind him, giggling. His only blinks at you blankly as if to say and? Too gone to think of the consequences.

“This view is reserved for my eyes only,” you murmur, nails scraping against his nipples. He gasps, back arcing. “Yes, yes!” He agrees mindlessly.

He grinds against your thigh desperately, the weight of his cock heavy and hot. He throbs at every touch.

“Kiss—kiss, please,” he whines, reaching for you. You oblige, internally fawning over his cuteness.

His hips move faster, chasing release as he moans and keens into your mouth.

He parts from you with a gasp and wet shlick. “Feels so good—sho good—hngg,” he babbles. His asymmetric temperatures intensify, the heat of his left searing you and the chill of the right piercing you.

“Oh—I’m—I’m c-cu—” he cries out, gripping you tightly as he fucks himself against your thigh urgently. You push your leg against him harder, nails digging into his stomach.

“Come for me Sho,” you murmur, biting his lower lip. His mouth parts in a silent wail, head tossing as his eyes roll. His body shudders, something warm seeping into the fabric of your jeans.

With a strangled groan, he sags against you, exhausted and spent. You stroke his hair soothingly, brushing back the sweaty locks and peppering chaste kisses over his face as he comes down slowly.

Faintly, you register someone calling your name.

“Oh, Midoriya. Over here.”

Shouto is too out of it, still coming down from his high, his soft moans tickling your ear

“Oh, there you are! Have you seen Todoroki-kun? I—oh!” He squeaks loudly, spinning on his heel immediately and covering his reddening face.

What a sight the two of you must be. A perfectly debauched Shouto, shirt falling over his broad shoulders, the fabric clinging to his glistening skin, raised lines over his bare chest that appear angrier in the darkened lighting, slumped over you, body trembling from the aftershocks of his orgasm.

The One for All user pales when he spots the noticeable burn the size of a palm on the wall behind your head.

“Uh—neverminditwasn’timportanthahahaohsomeone’scallingmegottagobye!” Midoriya practically screams in your face before bolting from the scene in the next beat.

Shouto manages a tired chuckle as you blink in the wake of his dust.

“You’re surprisingly shameless,” you remark when you turn back to him.

His wry smile slips, letting out a weak mewl when you squeeze his cock over his slacks teasingly. He’s already chubbing up, hips rolling slowly against your touch.

“I told you, didn’t I? I’m insatiable when it comes to you, darling,” he murmurs, cheeks dusting.

“Then let’s continue,” you say, helping him stand. He valiantly tries to salvage whatever is left of his shirt, but it’s hopeless. He gives up, letting it drift apart, sculpted abdomen and chest in full view.

“Hmm. I quite like this view,” your palm rests on his stomach, smiling when he jolts at your warmth.

“My place or yours?” He breathes, pulling you flush to him.

“Yours, I think. I’ve been meaning to try out your new jacuzzi,” you rest your cheek against his chest, tracing nonsensical patterns on his pec. Goosebumps rise on his skin, and you can hear the rapid fluttering of his pulse. He’s—nervous?

“I built it for you,” he confesses, burying his face into your hair. “After you mentioned how much you wanted to try one, I thought—well, I don’t know what I thought. I only know that I went out the next day to hire a contractor and expand my bathroom. I suppose part of me nurtured a hope I’d one day pluck enough courage to ask you to come over and give it a try …”

You pull away, looking up at him in disbelief. He laughs dryly at your expression.

“Yes. I know. It sounds as irrational as it felt. I still haven’t used it yet.”

“Then …,” you hesitate. And then you say shyly, “Then if you’d like … we could try it today? Together?”

“I … yes, I’d love that,” Shouto swallows thickly.

You take his hand as the two of you start to make your way back. He squeezes your hand once.

“Let’s go home,” you say softly. The corner of his heterochromatic eyes crinkle, lips curling into a gentle beam. He looks radiant, beauty amplified by his dishevelled and unkept state. He leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“Yes,” he says. “Let’s.”

[mrsgiovanna]

The Escape Route (Yan! Don Giorno x Fem!Reader)

A request from a lovely nonnie mouse asking how the Don would handle his darling attempting to escape from his home. A bit of a drawn out scenario... I really hope you enjoy the read.

TW: Manipulative relationship dynamics, possessive behaviour, yandere behaviour

Word Count: 2.7k

Your brisk walk was slowly turning into a run as you worked your way through the busy streets of Naples. With your breathing ragged and eyes darting around to make sure nobody was on your tail, you tried to think about how best to put your escape plan back on track.

You knew that Giorno’s influence extended further than most, but you hadn’t expected him to have the power to derail every single option you had thought of to escape from his overpowering grip. You had been running around for hours now, from station to station, none would book you a ticket to anywhere, every cab ride was hastily halted after a dubious phone call… resulting in you being unwillingly ejected from the vehicle each time. So there you were, running into the more dangerous parts of Naples, frantically looking for some kind of shelter to house you while you thought of what you would do next.

Thankfully, you found a tiny inn, sparse amenities, small and far removed enough you thought, to not be on Giorno’s radar. The kindly old lady didn’t ask many questions, and you paid with the cash you had been slowly hiding away for such an event.

You couldn’t pinpoint when your relationship with Giorno had descended to this but you knew that if you stayed any longer his charming brand of captivity would best your common sense and you would be trapped forever. With Giorno, you had access to anything, no request was too demanding… in exchange though he required you to be within his confines at all times, listen to and obey his honeyed instructions with minimal fuss, and to not run off in the occasions when he did take you out of the mansion. I’m just keeping you safe he said… little did you know that the most dangerous one of all was the Don himself with his hypnotic gaze.

To give him the benefit of the doubt, it could have been much worse, he never harmed you physically, never pushed the intimacy boundaries further than you allowed… in your moments of weakness, it was you who had sought out his embrace. The absurdity of it all- vacillating between love and hate for this man, and so to protect the fraying thread that held your sanity together, you decided to make a run for it. It was not an impulsive idea, you had spent the better part of the year planning your grand escape, trying to imagine every way in which your plan could go awry and possible solutions to the problems. Ironically, this was a habit that you had picked up from Giorno himself, and should your plan actually work, it would be quiet poetic- escaping using the traits of your captor against him. You had gathered small amounts of cash here and there, not enough to rouse anyone’s suspicion, and made sure that any and all evidence of you memorizing the layout of the surrounding areas was completely erased. Perhaps the most difficult task of them all, was to lure Giorno into false sense of security regarding your disposition towards your situation. In the weeks leading up to your escape, you had flawlessly played the part of the dutiful ‘wife’, listening attentively, spoiling him with gentle touches and loving gazes, making sure to build up your affections gradually, as if they had been blooming naturally so as not to trigger any suspicion.

Finally, you saw your opportunity to make your move that morning. Giorno had to leave early to meet with a few associates from Japan, so you rose with him, and watched as he got ready, helping him with his hair and doing up his tie. Looking up to meet his crystalline eyes, you noticed he considered you with an expression you haven’t seen on him before.

“What is it tesoro? Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked in a gentle tone.

“You’re… just so beautiful… would you like to come with me today? I’m sure they would love to meet you… I call them associates but in actual fact one of them is a relative of mine. You’ll only be bored for a little while; after that we can do whatever you would like to,” he asked with a gentle smile. You thought about how you were going to answer, ultimately you knew you didn’t want to go, favoring your grand escape instead, but denying him that quickly would definitely set off alarm bells in his mind.

“Ah! Perhaps next time my love, I’m not going to be good company today, I woke up with a bit of a headache… I’ll probably go back to bed and sleep it off after you leave,”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to make you feel any better bella, I hate the fact that you’re hurting,” Giorno cupped your face in his hands and gently stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, “get some rest bella mio, I’ll be back to check on you as soon as I can,” kissing you on the forehead he left without another word. Waiting for him to be completely out of the villa, you watched as his car exited the driveway before quietly packing what you could, mentally going over your checklist more times than you cared to count. Since your change in attitude, the staff at the villa were more accepting of your whims, partly to do with the fact that Giorno had instructed them to do so - within reason, but also, because you had won over their trust and if you had to be honest with yourself, there was nothing you could fault them for. The dynamic Giorno had with them was not ruled by fear, but rather by admiration… all of them being drawn in by his charisma. Managing to maneuver your way through the mansion and out an exit that saw you climbing over a hidden portion of the eastern wall surrounding the villa, you had finally been outside the confines of the villa on your own for the first time in well over a year.

In the car on the way to meet with his guests Giorno was preoccupied. He had noticed the gradual change in your behavior and as much as he would have loved to give you the benefit of the doubt, a nagging inclination that you might be lying always clouded his thoughts. He loved you- entirely- even though there were days in which you rejected his affections, he was patient with you… eventually you’d understand, the dangers that lurked in every corner made your captivity, as you so unceremoniously called it, a necessity. He had grown so accustomed to making decisions with little to no advice, he had adopted that stance in his personal life as well. He rationalized that once you had accepted the fact that his actions were all borne from his desire to protect you, your lives would be peaceful, until then, he would be patient, enduring your tantrums and snide remarks with the grace of an aristocrat… which only upset you further. To Giorno, you were to be looked after, protected- treasured, and so no matter how much you had tested his patience in the beginning, not once were you ever hurt or taken advantage of. Violence and shackles were much too unrefined for a gem like you, so to correct your behavior, the young don resorted to other, less threatening means of discipline.

“Don Giovanna? We have arrived,” shaken out of his musings by his consigliere, his attention was drawn to the fact that they had arrived at their destination ready to discuss the matters at hand.

“Thank you Lorenzo, would you check if the staff has everything ready while I greet our guests?”

“Of course, excuse me,” with that, Lorenzo had left, hastily attending to a call as he walked.

“Ah, welcome to Italy, I take it you and your associates have settled in well?” said Giorno with a polite bow, being mindful of the cultural conventions of his esteemed guests. Drinks were ordered and everyone present had settled down in the private lounge, except for Lorenzo who had been animatedly conversing on the phone for enough time to make his absence felt. Frustrated by what he was tasked to do, he abruptly ended his conversation and sought out Giorno to give him the news, finally, the staff at villa Giovanna had realized you were gone.

“Don…”

“The expression on your face can only mean one thing… when did they notice?”

“A few minutes ago, she couldn’t have gotten too gar given the timeframe… what would you like me to do?”

“You stay here and keep our guests company, I’ll handle this…” not even bothering to alert the driver, Giorno collected the keys from the valet and zoomed off. Making a short drive even shorter, he arrived home in foul mood, although he did assign some of the blame to himself, recognizing his fatal error when he ignored his gut feeling, he was disappointed at how easily you had managed to slip from his grasp and wondered if his staff had been plotting with you all along. He would have to address that later on though, his primary concern now was to locate you and bring you back home.

“Mista, I have a special request to make, please come to the villa, bring Fugo with you,” said Giorno in a quick call, there were few who he trusted more than his underbosses, and this task was something that required only the most competent people. After a short explanation of the situation at hand, both men had already started making calls to the relevant people in an attempt to thwart your plans.

You would think the most frightening thing about Giorno would be his god-like requiem ability. But over and above the raw power he possessed was his reach, the world seemed so small, as if it had rested comfortably in his elegant hands- and you had been getting reminders of this inescapable fate over and over again. By the time you had given up on the idea of escaping through any traditional means of transportation, you must have tried fifty different avenues, each attempt failing more spectacularly than the last. Having had enough, you resigned yourself to the fact that you would not be leaving Naples immediately, and found refuge in the outskirts of the city. You climbed the rickety staircase behind the lady as she prattled on about her day.

“Shall I get you something to eat dolcezza? You look like you could use something warm and comforting in your system. In fact, let me do just that, you get settled in so long,” said the innkeeper before you had a chance to interject. Deciding to take a shower to wash off the day, you took comfort in the fact that this place was so remote, you were almost certain you were safe for the meantime. The tiny bathroom was a far cry from the palatial one you had grown accustomed to while being in Giorno’s villa, but it served the same purpose, only this time, you had your freedom. The place was peaceful though aside from the sound of what must have been a car backfiring and the small creaks from the natural expansion and contraction of the dwelling, it was quiet enough for you to calm down and organize your thoughts. Now that you were comparatively more at ease than before, you felt the strain of the day in your body, aching muscles, sore feet and cuts and scrapes that began to smart affixed a slight grimace to your face as you rummaged through your belongings to find some sort of pain relief.

A sharp knock on the door disrupted your search. You stayed silent for a moment, contemplating if you should ignore it or answer.

“Dolcezza, I’ve brought you a small snack, you’re going to enjoy it,” you just wanted to crawl into bed and forget the day you had, but you also didn’t want to snub her kindness, you reached out to unlock and open the door.

“Buongiorno tesoro… enjoying your little excursion? Marina here was kind enough to show me to your room so I could surprise you… seems like it worked, look at this charming expression,” turning to the smiling woman, Giorno nodded for her to leave. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, you wanted to cry, to run, to jump right out through the hazy window but your feet were rooted to the ground.

“Well (y/n) … you’ve been running around Naples for the entire day, have you found what you’re looking for?” his usual honeyed tone was laced with derision as he critically eyed your surroundings. “is this what you were so desperate to escape to? Look at this place… look at the condition you’re in… how is any of this better than everything I’ve given you?”

“I have my freedom here…” was all you could muster as your mind raced thinking of how he had still managed to find you despite all the precautions you had taken. “Giorno, how…”

“How did I find you? I always have my ways…” he said, sauntering over to the window, opening it just enough to make eye contact with whoever was outside, dismissing them with a nonchalant wave of his gloved hand. Pulling out his cellphone, he showed you the opened application, explaining that he had been using it to track your location, following the signal from the diamond earrings he gifted you on your birthday, carelessly left on when you had made your hasty escape. In all fairness, you hadn’t considered that the dainty gems were anything more than that. Feeling your legs starting to give out under you at the revelation that you were the cause of your own undoing, you sat on the bed hanging your head in defeat.

“Freedom, you say? Tell me how has that worked for you?”

“That’s not fair! You’ve basically controlled every single encounter I’ve had, and even when I thought I had escaped you by coming here, you still somehow managed to manipulate the situation…” you shouted, tears of frustration running feely down your face.

“Stop being dramatic, the world is full of horrible people, everyone is looking out for themselves, I wish you would realize that… tell me tesoro, how many people turned you away? Threw you out of their cars, made up excuses to deny your requests? Not one of those people looked into those pleading eyes and thought you were worth helping. Why? Because people are selfish…”

“You… you threatened them all, you…”

“You give me too much credit, it’s not like I was going to kill them, I hate violence, despite your disappointingly low opinion of me, even you have to admit that I’ve never done anything to physically harm you… all I want is to protect you, you don’t understand how things work out there,”

“It’s not like you’ve ever given me the opportunity to find out how things are… I”

“Some people are just meant to be loved and protected tesoro, isn’t that enough? Why would you want to risk being hurt to get a taste of something that’s actually not even worth it… you’re not cut out for this life… I’ve been here so I know this isn’t what you deserve. You’re coming back home with me,”

“But, I- “ you attempted to interject but his intense glare halted you.

“(y/n), I’m very patient under most circumstances, but please don’t test me now, I won’t say it twice…” said Giorno with a slight bite to his voice, it was clear he was growing tired of this conversation, and you were losing your will to fight back. With a quivering lip and misty eyes, you moved to gather your belongings but was stopped by the young don, arguing that he can replace whatever is there, wanting no other reminders of this transgression to follow you both back. Resigning yourself to this fate, realizing there was nowhere beyond his reach, you grasped his outstretched arm and followed him to the car to return to your life of opulent captivity. Months and months of planning all resulting in nothing, it became glaringly obvious to you that escaping was futile…

[asmo-ds]

I've seen alot of headcanons about Simeon turning into a demon, but how would everyone react if Luke managed to turn himself into a demon 🤔 Like maybe he didn't amount up to Celestial Standards (I headcanon the Celestial realm is kinda weird due to the events of the anelic event) and then he made some type of minor violation and they kicked him out of heaven to avoid the possibility of him growing up to be undesirable in the Celestial Realm

When a Child Falls

Luke-centric ANGST & FLUFF

Warnings: Pain, falling from heaven, Luke hurting :(

Summary: After failing to live up to the standards of his superiors Luke is kicked out of the Celestial Realm and becomes a demon. Luckily for him the exchange program had given him so many new and old friends who wanted nothing but to help the poor child despite any bitter past they may have had with him

a/n: i was gonna do headcanons but then i was like what if i make a whole one shot about him falling and everyone helping him adjust to his new life and uh yea <3

Also this didn’t come out as angsty as I wanted it to but demon brothers comforting a fallen Luke >>>>>>>

He tugged on his own arm, begging for the elder angel to release him and give him a second chance, his once hopeful blue eyes filled with tears and terror. 

“Stop, I swear I just need more time, PLEASE!” Luke cried, punching the elder’s arm and attempting to pry his wrinkly hands from Luke’s small forearm. The elder yanked Luke’s arm harder, resulting in a distressed cry from the short blond.

Luke tried to steady his breathing as they approached the boundaries of the Celestial realm, where he was to be pushed off for his failure to earn his wings in a timely manner. The Celestial realm saw him as useless and decided they would be better off discarding a weak angel like himself.

“LET HIM GO, PLEASE! DON’T DO THIS!” Luke could hear Simeon’s breaking voice screaming at the elders who held him back from Luke to prevent any interference, “JUST LET ME SAY GOODBYE PLEASE,” he begged to which the elder finally agreed and the two embraced tightly. “Luke you listen to me, you get to the Devildom you go STRAIGHT to Lucifer, he helped his brothers and himself through his fall he can help you, please, trust him with at least getting you through the transition then you can hate them again or whatever you want, pl-”

“I get it, Simeon, I promise I won’t let you down,” Luke interrupted, tears falling from his eyes onto Simeon’s broad shoulders. 

“Times up. Luke come to the edge, stand here,” an elder guides him into position. 

Luke’s hearing starts ringing as his adrenaline kicks in, the fear of death and disappearing from existing overwhelming him. His breathing grew fast, and before he knew it, he felt a push and wind pounding against his skin as he fell, and fell, and fell, until he saw the Devildom soil and he tensed, preparing for the worst.

Instead of hitting the ground he hears a fwoosh and finds himself caught in strong arms.

“Luke! What happened, where is Simeon? A young angel like you shouldn’t be down here all al-” Lucifer starts questioning the angel, concerned to see the small boy falling from so high. He was interrupted by a cry of agony, Luke pushed away from Lucifer, doubling over and screaming as the pain began to set in.

Lucifer recognized the transition immediately and how badly it hurt his brothers, so he gently approached the young boy, who glared at him with teary pained eyes, and he murmured a spell, before darkness washed over Luke.

- 

His innocent blue eyes fluttered open, not recognizing his surroundings, he sat up quickly, wincing and hissing as his back was suddenly filled with unbearable pain. 

Oh that’s right, I fell. They pushed me and now…His eyes snap open, remembering the feeling of falling, but nothing that happened afterward.

“I have… to find… Lucifer..” Luke spoke to himself, taking short breaks between every few words to take a painful breath, feeling his ribcage expand and contract as his wheezing continued.

“I’ve already found you, Luke, you’re in one of the bedrooms of the Demon Lord’s Castle. Please lay back and take off your shirt, your back is bound to be in a lot of pain, this serum will help.” The blond flinches as Lucifer rises from a chair next to the bed where he laid. 

Luke raises his arms and let Lucifer take off the shirt before laying on his stomach.

He hears Lucifer’s breath catch in his throat as he stares in horror at Luke’s back, where wings were starting to form, dark and mangled with feathers tangled and in need of a cleaning.

So like that, Lucifer kept Luke safe and took care of him whilst the other brothers prepared a room at the House of Lamentation for him to stay.

-

“Luke, I’ve brought you some tea and cake,” Barbatos walks into the bedroom carrying some snacks and drinks for the injured boy.

“Thank you Barbatos, I missed your cooking,” Luke smiles slightly before taking a big bite of cake and groaning. “Like, I really missed it-”

“Yes, Barbatos makes splendid food, which is why I keep him around!” Diavolo winks, nudging Barbatos with his elbow a bit.

“Actually sir, you only keep me around because no other demon has been able to keep up with your antics-”

“ANYWAY, Luke your wings look like they’re growing in nicely, and so do your horns,” Diavolo walks over to examine Luke’s new form. “You’ll probably be in a lot of pain for at least a few more days, but if you want to get situated into your new home we can let you go and just check in on you everyday.”

“Uh… I don’t want to intrude at the House of Lamentation, if it’s going to be any sort of burden to them-”

“Nonsense, my brothers and I are glad to take care of you and take you in, you experienced the same fate as us, albeit for different reasons, but still, we know your pain and we want to guide you so please, Luke, let us help you,” Lucifer places a reassuring hand on Luke’s shoulder as he says this.

“...Okay, BUT no calling me a chihuahua- GOT IT?!” Luke pokes Lucifer’s chest aggressively and earns a hearty chuckle from him.

“I agree not to call you a dog anymore,” Lucifer laughs out, “though I cannot speak for my brothers.”

-

“I can’t believe the chihuahua of all people got kicked out…” Mammon says, still in shock that the angel who had been so determined to make people smile just a year before during the exchange program had somehow managed to get himself thrown out of heaven.

“I remember when I almost didn’t earn my wings in time,” Asmodeus shudders at the memories of being threatened with exile and constantly pushing himself way too hard, “I got so many wrinkles from the stress.”

“Luke makes good food, I’m glad he’s staying with us.” Beel’s mouth was watering as he and Mammon moved a dresser, finally finishing getting Luke’s new room in order.

“Oi, try to be sympathetic when he gets here Beel. He may be a little annoying kid but he’s going through what we went through,” Mammon scolded his younger brother, an uncomfortable silence taking over the room as each and every one of them remembers the pain they were in as their bodies morphed into those of demons.

“God is such an asshole…” Belphegor mutters, getting extremely angry the more he thinks about it.

Luke had done nothing wrong, Lilith had done nothing wrong, so why? Why would he keep getting rid of the most determined of his angels over such insignificant things?

Suddenly all their phones go off with a text from Lucifer saying he and the boy would be arriving soon. They all gathered in the entrance hall, waiting for Luke to arrive. The front door creaked open, all of the brothers standing up straighter and nervous as Lucifer stepped through the entrance with Luke just behind him. 

The brothers all gasped quietly in shock at the state of Luke. He was pale and thin and the look of complete and utter despair in his formerly innocent eyes filling the room with a depressing atmosphere.

“H-hey there Fido- I mean- Luke, how’re you feeling?” Mammon tries to start up a welcoming conversation, getting a nasty look from Lucifer, who Luke was clinging to for dear life.

“Luke! As soon as you’re feeling able to, what do you say we bake something together?” Beel smiles sweetly, most of them getting nothing but nervous looks from Luke in response to their questions.

“I’m just going to help him get settled in. Satan you’re in charge of everything else around the house while I take care of Luke and my own paperwork.” Lucifer guides Luke up the stairs.

Satan rolls his eyes but mutters a small “fine,” before the two head upstairs to the attic, where they’d set up the room to look just like the dorm he stayed in at Purgatory Hall.

“Oh wow, it feels like I’m back in the exchange program,” Luke chuckles a little, clearly faking any sort of joy.

“Luke,” Lucifer kneels down, “you are one of my brothers now, you have nothing to fear, and Simeon will be able to visit at some point-” His attempt to ease Luke’s worries is interrupted by a loud sob.

“Don’t you get it?! Michael and Simeon will never look at me the same, ever again!” Luke wails, using his sleeves to wipe the tears that streamed down his face. “All I ever wanted was to impress them! To impress God and make humans happy and protect them! But now my natural instinct to hurt humans ruins any chance of me becoming the person I’d always thought I’d be!” Luke falls to his knees, sobbing and wheezing, his vision becoming blurry as a panic attack hits him like a truck. He can barely hear anything except for Lucifer calling out a name, and all he could make out was that it wasn’t his own name. A dark figure walks into the room and Luke hears muffled voices for a minute before he is suddenly extremely calm, his eyelids growing a bit heavy and he feels exhausted.

He then realizes someone was holding him and murmuring some sort of spell, causing him to panic once more, but this time he was perfectly aware and just jumped up ready to fight.

“Hey you dirty demon! Don’t use your dark magic on me or else I’ll-”

“Pfft hahaha,” Belphegor laughs hard, tears threatening to spill from his eyes, “you still look like a chihuahua when you get annoyed!” Belphie teases and Luke blushes, before running at Belphie and tackling him, leading to a wrestling match on the floor as Lucifer stands by and watches the two of them closely, to ensure nobody got hurt under his watch. 

-

Dinner was the worst, to be honest. Luke had asked Lucifer if he could cook to say thanks for taking him in, but now he sat awkwardly and all of the brothers remained quiet, watching his every move and watching him like he was an injured little puppy.

“I-is the food not good?” Luke questions looking around nervously.

“AH- no its great Fido- LUKE, ah jeez I’m getting a headache this is so hard to adjust to,” Mammon slams his head on the table, earning a glare from Asmo and Satan who he sat between.

“Anyways, I know you’ve been to the Devildom before and don’t really need a tour BUT you’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg, there are so many more places to go!” Asmo smiles widely at Luke, “So let’s go together soon, okay?”

“Okay!”

“Ooooh Luke, you have to tell me what Celestial Realm video games are like, GAH I wish we had waited to start a war until after the invention of video games. Anyway I got a new one so I can show you a Devildom game and-”

“Shut yer trap Levi,” Mammon leans over the table to attempt to cover Levi’s mouth.

“But let the GREAT Mammon show ya all the best spots in town~”

“NO-no do not take the child Gambling, Mammon,” Asmo smacks him.

“Asmo for all we know you’re gonna scar him and take him to a strip club,” Belphegor smirks, knowing he just started a war.

“I WOULD NEVER, COME HERE YOU BRAT,” both of them in demon forms chasing each other around the house and screaming.

Suddenly everyone hears a child’s laughter and looks at the blond who had barely even smiled since arriving.

“We can try to do everything you guys want to show me,” Luke smiles. Everyone lets out a sigh of relief seeing that Luke was feeling more comfortable around them. “Um, question though… how do I go in and out of my… demon form?” 

“HAH that’s easy, just relax and let the GREAT Mammon teach ya!”

“Mammon, not yet. Luke, I will teach you, but we need to wait a bit longer or else the pain of transforming will be unbearable for you,” Lucifer looked down at the disappointed boy.

“Oh, ok.”

“Don’t look so gloomy Fid-LUKE JEEZ LOUISE- there's a lot the GREAT Mammon can teach ya in the mean time!” Mammon stands up with a cocky smile, hands on his hips. “Think of me as ya new master and you are my apprentice!”

“NO do not think of him like that he will make you do his dirty work,” Satan says, hitting Mammon in the stomach.

“Thank you,” Luke looks at Lucifer, “thank you for taking me in, I-I know we don’t have the best past and I was super rude towards demons during the exchange program but-but I’m trying to change for you guys! Thank you!” Luke bows his head, tears falling down his cheeks. The knowledge that he can never go back to the way he was bringing on more tears, but they didn’t mind. They’d been through the same process. So silently they all comforted him and welcomed him into their home with  open arms.

[enneamage]

This leans more into drama than maybe you're interested in, but I've seen a lot about the end of the cricket crew friendships and how maybe there's more to it than just the end of ebs/beeduo, especially after there was a tiktok from members talking about how much they missed the cricket crew era streams. One thought was that Tubbo was the behind the end of Cricket Crew through his bridge burning tendencies. Any thoughts based on the enneagram about Type 9 bridge-burning or how things fell apart?

The first thing I’ll say is that I believe it when they say that they’re busy. They’re very busy, and they need to keep busy if they want to keep the job that they have—these are 18 year olds who live on the knife edge of internet culture, they have to keep swimming at all times. The question soon becomes what they’re willing to try and make time for, which shows both how they function and what they prioritise.  

I think it would be hard for one person to be behind the actions of an entire group, but Ranboo and Tubbo separating and becoming mutually exclusive knocked an important domino over when it comes to getting where we are now. A lot of strain was put on the group when Tubbo withdrew, so it���s worth looking at the ripple effect of the dynamics from there.

Nines actually aren’t big bridge-burners as much as they are likely to play dead under stress. Tubbo buried himself in his privacy and his projects because he decided that he didn’t want the world in the wake of whatever happened. He invested himself in Tubnet and wanted to be left alone. The people around him were willing to give him that space, but they bonded with the highly social person that was left behind: Ranboo.

In the beginning I would say that almost none of the ‘Cricket Crew’ would have wanted to cut ties with Tubbo. Tubbo would not be abandoned by them, but neither would Ranboo, and Ranboo was the guy who actively wanted to hang out with his new friends while Tubbo fell back. Ranboo is much more socially proactive, and he nurtured his new relationships while Tubbo started to withdraw from situations that Ranboo would be in. Tubbo felt pushed out, but this wasn't a dynamic that people seemed to catch onto at first.

To Tubbo, when his friends choose to hang out with Ranboo they create a space where Tubbo can’t go. We’ll never get to know how many of Tubbo’s boundaries were stated explicitly versus things that he just hopes his actions will communicate if he does them often enough, but it seems like people are still working without all the puzzle pieces. I do think that Tubbo has a lingering sense of guilt and shame around being the one who had to step away, and watching his friends get closer with Ranboo probably solidified a semi-conscious ‘they want to hang out with him more’ narrative, which re-enforces his passivity.

I would like to apologise to Tommy who I did not fully understand on this issue until recently. He’s been given a hard job if he wants to keep Tubbo in his orbit. Tommy has to climb fences if he wants to keep his friend, trying desperately to flag that he still cares about him while also making it known that he’s pissed off about how he’s acting right now. Tommy isn’t doing this particularly elegantly and maybe not even consciously, but he’s out there fighting in his very 6w7 Tommy way.

He can’t ‘respect Tubbo’s boundaries’ and wait for him to reach out because inertia will take over and he just never will. Tommy wants to hold onto their connection but dragging a Nine that doesn’t want to cooperate into a situation is like trying to bathe a cat. Tommy wants to reach out to Tubbo and have Tubbo reach back so that he can feel secure in their connection again, because Tommy still has his own needs for validation on top of everything else. It’s literally love-hate right now because Tommy is doing everything he can think of to keep in touch with Tubbo, but Tubbo doesn’t seem to be returning the energy, and there’s only so much of that someone can withstand before they decide to spend time with the people who will.

[eliemo]

Love Our Way

Summary: Virgil knew he should have said something right there. But he didn’t, because he knew that would be the end.

Notes: Ace Virgil fic with romantic LAMP

TWs: Mentions of sex but no details. A little bit of internalized acephobia but barely, Virgil just has negative self esteem.

They’d been together a few months now and it had been, without a doubt, the best few months of Virgil’s life. 

It’d been a bit nerve wracking in the beginning, those first couple of weeks, as excited and thrilled as he was, Virgil had been extra paranoid about doing something wrong, about giving them any reason to lose feelings for him. 

He honestly hadn’t thought it could work at first. Relationships rarely worked out with two people, let alone four. Eventually they would fight, or lose feelings, or decide it was all too complicated. And things would get awkward and they could all end up hating each other and who knew what it would do to Thomas if they could no longer stand to be in the same room—

But they didn’t. By some miracle, that never happened.

Things were...things were perfect, as scared as Virgil had been to use the word. They’d been amazing ever since the anxious side was allowed to join their family, the love and warmth a wonderful kind of overwhelming he’d never felt before, but actually dating the people he loved more than anything, no longer needing to be afraid to express his feelings…

It was more than he’d ever thought he would get. More than he ever thought could be possible. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe it was real. 

They fit together like puzzle pieces, making each other stronger, pushing each other to be better, gentle and encouraging, coexisting in peaceful harmony. 

Virgil had never felt so welcomed, so surrounded by unconditional support and affection. They showed him just how much he had to offer. For the first time he’d actually felt like he wasn’t just a burden. 

It was hard, especially when it took a while to convince himself that he wasn’t invited into the relationship out of convenience, but because they actually wanted him. 

But they loved him. He knew that now. They all loved each other, flaws and all. 

And, well...Virgil should have known it wouldn't last forever. 

Not for him. Because...because that was just the way things were, wasn’t it? He’d made progress, he wasn’t the bad guy anymore, but he was still Anxiety. Things were just destined to go wrong. 

He really hadn’t given a single thought. It never crossed his mind as something that could ever be a problem, even when they had initially gotten together. No one else seemed intent on bringing it up, so Virgil had figured they never would. 

But then it had. Logan had brought the topic up about a week ago, somewhat awkward but still painfully casual, the conversation simply to discuss everyone’s level of comfort when it came to intimacy. 

Which...yeah, Virgil guessed it made sense. They were dating, the four of them happy and comfortable with their relationship, and had been for months now. So obviously sex was going to get brought up eventually. Boundaries needed to be set before...anything actually happened. It was routine for a healthy relationship. 

Except Virgil hadn’t actually thought they would ever talk about it. Because he’d known for a long time that he was asexual and he’d just...kind of assumed the others were too.

Which in retrospect, was a stupid conclusion to jump to. 

Virgil had known for years now, long before befriending the others. It had taken him a while to be sure, lots of research and panic and overthinking, but he’d eventually grown comfortable with the label. It was just another part of who he was. 

But he’d also never really understood why. Thomas wasn’t asexual so it didn’t make any sense for Virgil to have a separate identity. 

Unless it was just something all the sides experienced, none of them able to feel that kind of attraction.

But he’d never actually gotten around to asking. No one brought it up, and before the...development in their relationship it never seemed like something that would be an issue. So he’d just assumed, and ran with it. 

But clearly that wasn’t the case. Not when Roman and Patton were responding to Logan’s question with varying levels of eagerness and approval, comfortable and willing to take the next step when they were all ready.  

And Virgil knew he should have said something right there. They had given him the perfect opportunity to come out, quick and easy, and avoid anything uncomfortable in the future. 

But he didn’t. Because...because that would be the end, wouldn’t it? 

They would be sweet about it, of course. Thank him for being honest. But if he was the only one who didn’t want that...well, what was the point of him being a part of things? 

It was a cruel thing to assume, he knew that. None of them were shallow enough to see sex as something necessary, and he knew they would never force him into anything. 

But...but he already offered so little. They already had to jump through so many hoops to accommodate his anxiety, and it wasn’t like he was particularly loving or good at romance, as hard as he tried. As loving and amazing as they were, this could simply be the final straw. 

He wanted to be with them. He wanted them in every other way. He loved them more than anything. But he wouldn’t fight it when they ended up distancing themselves from him. 

Virgil just wasn’t ready for that heartbreak yet. So he plastered on a fake smile, and nodded along with the others.

 He’d tell them tomorrow. The longer he waited, the worse it would be. 

_

“Movie night!” Patton declared, skipping into the living room where Virgil was scrolling aimlessly on his phone. “And don’t think you’re getting out of it this time, Virge!”

Virgil tried to ignore the way his stomach twisted at the phrasing, swallowing against rising panic and sending Patton a smile. It was just movie night, same as every Friday. 

It had been two weeks now, and he still hadn’t told them. He’d managed to avoid last week’s movie night with the excuse of an upset stomach, desperately trying not to think about what they could be doing without him. 

And now...now he’d have to tell. They’d already be upset he waited this long, he couldn’t put it off any longer. 

Besides, they’d all be in the same bed all night, as they often were, relaxed and happy and enjoying each other’s company. They wouldn’t ever force him into something he wasn’t comfortable with, even if they wanted nothing to do with him after he came out. 

He’d lied, after all. He should have told them right away. 

“I'll be right there,” he said, forcing a smile as Patton made his way upstairs to his bedroom where the others were likely waiting. “Just...give me a second.” 

This was it, then. Hopefully afterwards, it wouldn’t be too awkward. Hopefully they would still be willing to keep him around as a friend. 

They were all waiting for him by the time he made it to Roman’s room, the three of them sprawled out on the bed in a pile of laughs and smiles, and Virgil’s heart felt like it was trying to break through his chest. 

He loved them so much. He wanted nothing more than to forget all of this and be held in their arms, content and warm until the sun came up. 

But putting it off wasn’t fair to them. And it wasn’t fair to him either. 

“Virgil!” Roman exclaimed, and Virgil felt lightheaded at the fond, excited looks he was being given. “Come help us choose a movie!” 

He almost chickened out again, just for a second. But he couldn’t panic. Not until it was out in the open and he could deal with the consequences. 

After tonight, he could very well end up alone again. Isolated like a villain. 

Why did he have to keep turning out to be different? Why was he always meant to end up alone? 

“In a second,” he said, stopping just inside the doorway. “I...I need to say something first, if that’s ok.”

Their smiles dropped slightly, but their gentle, welcoming expressions never wavered. The three of them sat up in bed, scooting forward as Patton nodded. 

“Of course, honey,” he said. “What’s on your mind?” 

He was actually doing this. He just...had to figure out how to start. 

Virgil took a breath and stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide how they’d begun to shake. “Just to- just to get it out there to make it easier for you guys...I- I get it if you want to break up with me after this.”  

That got their attention, their heads snapping up with wide, wary eyes. Virgil couldn’t quite bring himself to look at them anymore. 

“I’m just saying,” he muttered, and god he was shaking so bad. “I’ll understand.” 

The silence only stretched on another few seconds before Logan cleared his throat. “We’re listening, Virgil.” 

Ok. Ok he could do this. He...really should have planned out what he was going to say first. 

“I should have told you right away,” he started. “I know I should have. It’s not fair to you guys and I’m...I’m really sorry that I didn’t. I wasn’t trying to...to lie or- or lead you on or anything, I just...love you guys. A lot. I’ve loved being with you and I wasn’t ready to...you know...ruin that.” 

“Virge? What...what did you do, darling?” 

It was passed off as a joke, the Prince forcing a small smile, but there was serious concern behind it. 

Virgil quickly shook his head. “It’s not...I didn’t realize that it would be, you know, an issue. But you guys want...you want someone who’s not...me. Because- because I’m…” 

Say it, just say it. 

“I’m asexual. And you guys...I shouldn’t have kept that from you. I’m sorry. I’m just...sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” 

And that was...it. That was it. They knew now. 

They knew, and they could react how they wanted. If they were angry, Virgil wouldn’t blame him. If they were disgusted and demanded he leave...Virgil wouldn’t fight it, no matter how badly it hurt. 

He knew them better than to truly assume that would be the case, but the thought was still there. 

Furious or not, there was no way they’d trust him enough to keep him in the relationship. 

But he had to hold it together until the end of the conversation. He’d escape as soon as they let him, and then...and then he’d readjust to being alone. 

Unfortunately, none of them seemed particularly inclined to answer, the silence stretching on a moment too long. He risked a glance up from the floor, hunching his shoulders when he caught Logan’s eye. 

“Virgil,” the logical side said. “Come sit down, please.”

He quickly shook his head, taking a step back. He didn’t need a long, drawn out ending to this. He wouldn’t be able to hold it together that long. 

“You...you guys don’t have to--” 

“Virgil,” Patton cut him off, scooting aside to make room. “Come over here and talk to us.” 

And he’d never be able to deny Patton anything, would he? Not when he sounded so desperate. 

Virgil moved forward on shaky legs, focusing solely on his breathing to keep himself from crying, ending up seated in between Patton and Logan, Roman pressed up against the moral side. 

“This doesn’t need to be a conversation,” he said, just wanting to get out. “I...I said I would understand.” 

Virgil jumped when there was a hand against his cheek, Logan suddenly cupping his jaw and turning his head until they were face to face, the logical side’s eyes piercing behind his glasses. 

“Virgil,” Logan started, sounding almost breathless. “How...on earth could you think this would end in a break up?” 

Virgil blinked, wondering if this was some kind of trick question. “What? I don’t--” 

“Darling,” Roman said, and the Prince was suddenly scooting over to sit in front of Virgil, the three of them surrounding him. “You thought we would leave if you came out as Ace?” 

Virgil shook his head because no, that...that wasn’t the problem. Not entirely, anyway. “It’s not...guys I lied. You asked me to be in a relationship with you and I didn’t say anything.” 

“You did not lie,” Logan said, never dropping his hand from Virgil’s face. “You just were not ready to come out yet. You and I both know there is a substantial difference.” 

There was a hand suddenly slipping into his own, and Virgil startled when he realized it was Patton’s, the moral side’s free hand now running fingers through his hair. 

“You weren’t comfortable sharing that part of yourself,” he said. “That’s totally ok, sweetheart. No one’s mad at you. I’m just glad you said something before something...happened.” 

Logan’s hand suddenly dropped, his eyes big and painfully worried, and Virgil had to force himself not to look away. 

“Virgil,” he said slowly. “You do not...owe us anything. Especially not something like sex. If we made you feel like--” 

“What? Jesus- no.” Virgil moved his hand away from Patton, pulling his knees up to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut to try to get a hold of himself. “It wasn’t...I just thought...it would be too...t-too much to deal with, you know?” 

They weren’t breaking up with him. They weren’t. He’d been stupid to think that. There was no reason he should still be so upset. 

He couldn’t make them feel guilty. He couldn’t make them think they’d been the ones to do something wrong when they’d been nothing but perfect. He couldn’t--

“Oh Virgil.” 

Too late he realized the tears had started to spill over, his face burning as he pressed a hand against his mouth to try and muffle any treacherous sobs. 

There was a pair of arms around him, warm and grounding, and it took Virgil a moment to realize it was Roman, gently guiding him into the embrace. He didn’t fight it, falling limp against the Prince’s chest with a pathetic choking noise. 

“S-sorry,” he managed in between sobs. “I’m sorry, I- I don’t know why I’m...I sh-should have told you, I- I thought you’d...I thought you’d run out of reasons to- to want me.” 

“We could never,” Roman whispered, holding him tight. Patton moved forward to rub circles along his back, Logan reaching out to squeeze his hand. “You’re beautiful, Virgil. And this doesn’t change a thing.”

It didn’t make sense. None of it made any sense. If one of them had come out, it would be different. But with him...there was already so much to deal with, so much they were forced to handle. 

Eventually, it had to get to be too much, right? He’d already figured they’d get fed up with the extra steps they had to take to respect his boundaries, Virgil always a little more wary when it came to being vulnerable. 

But they all sounded so...genuine. Princey hadn’t once loosened his hold, still whispering quiet reassurances, Patton was back to running his fingers through Virgil’s hair, pressing kisses to his free hand. 

And Logan still held on tight, counting out familiar breathing exercises just loud enough for Virgil to hear, always knowing how to calm him down. 

When he finally managed to calm down, taking in deep, shuddering breaths, he reluctantly pulled away from Roman, wiping at his eyes as he stared down at his lap. 

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I never thought...I wouldn’t have let you guys do anything. I was always gonna tell you eventually I just...kept putting it off.” 

“That is quite alright,” Logan said, sounding oddly hesitant. “But I...don’t think I could forgive myself if we had taken the next step without realizing you would not enjoy it.” 

Virgil nodded, forcefully pushing down the sickening panic at the thought. “I know. I wouldn’t have let that happen. I promise.” 

Patton and Logan both squeezed his hands, Patton tilting forward to press a kiss to his temple before leaning his forehead on Virgil’s shoulder. He allowed himself to lean into the touch, taking another shaky breath before continuing. 

“I’m...I am sorry though. If this complicates things.” 

Roman cocked his head slightly, frowning. “Complicates things?” 

“Yeah,” Virgil said, hoping he wasn’t about to refute every wonderful thing that had just been said. “We’re...in a relationship. And you all want...I mean, Roman you’re pretty much all romance, so I know you want--” 

He cut himself off, caught completely off guard when Roman started laughing. 

“Sorry,” the Prince said quickly, smiling at the exasperated looks Virgil realized the others were giving him. “Sorry, I just...gosh, Virgil can I kiss you?” 

Virgil blinked, mind suddenly completely blank. “I...uh, sure?” 

True to his word, Roman was suddenly cupping Virgil’s face in both his hands, gently pressing their lips together, and just like always Virgil melted against the touch, completely safe for just a single, blissful moment. 

When Roman pulled back, he met Virgil’s gaze, brimming with nothing but adoration and love. “Virgil, darling, you really think I see something as trivial as sex romantic?”

“I mean...yeah?” 

“Virgil, I love you. You, not...not what you have to offer. I love seeing you in the mornings, and holding you...I love hearing your voice. I want to cook you dinners and pick you flowers and sing for you. That’s romantic, Virge. Not...not something as small as sex. That’s not what’s important. Not to me.” 

“I, for once, am in agreement with Roman,” Logan said. “Sexual intimacy has never been of importance to me. It certainly does not hold enough power to damage our relationship in any way if you do not desire it. And it certainly has no power over my feelings for you.” 

Virgil was suddenly dangerously close to crying again. “I--” 

“Besides, there is no logical reason for us to engage in sexual intercourse. We are not human, so the need to reproduce does not--” 

Roman thankfully cut him off with a kiss, Logan making a noise somewhere between surprise and annoyance, but reciprocated without further complaint. 

Patton was suddenly taking both of Virgil’s hands, their fingers laced together, and Virgil suddenly wasn't quite so scared to meet the moral side’s eyes. 

“I don’t care about something silly like that,” Patton said. “I just care about you, honey. The four of us being safe and happy and together. If we all just cuddle and tell each other how much we love each other...nothing else could ever make me that happy. So don’t you worry about a thing, ok?” 

Virgil wasn’t sure whether he laughed or sobbed, but he was smiling back at Patton, at the people who surrounded him with unconditional love, and he nodded. 

“Ok,” he agreed, feeling lighter than he thought he ever had. “Thank you. All of you. I...I love you all. So much.” 

Within moments they were all tangled up in each other, the television playing an old comfort movie, Virgil wrapped up in Logan’s arms with his head against Roman’s chest, Patton leaned against his legs. 

It was still perfect, and Virgil had a funny feeling it always would be. He loved them, more than anything in the entire world, and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind they felt the same way.

[justcourttee]

New idea!!! Could you write a story where Mari and Tim are full-blooded siblings except Mari was taken away from the Drakes. Mari would be Dick's age in this. The Drake's finally pass away so Bruce goes to adopt Tim but he's having trouble because Marinette is doing the same. It's a custody battle. Tim is confused because he doesn't know Mari (she was taken away before she was born and CPS wasn't dealing with that family again) but Mari knows about him. Maybe Dick/Mari?

I have a feeling I took this in a different direction than you meant for it to be, but I hope you still like it :) @elements1999

Tim’s Decision

There were two things that Timothy Jackson Drake was sure of.

One, that he had never seen Dick so flustered before in his life. The poor guy was tripping over his own feet, stumbling into the court hallway as if he had been drinking all morning, his face resembling something close to the apple Bruce forced him to eat for breakfast.

And the second, well, he was sure he had never met someone as persistently, annoyingly, upbeat as Dick Grayson until seconds ago when she reached out her hand to introduce herself.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances, Timothy. This isn’t my first time reaching out, but it certainly is my first time getting through. Maybe after this, we can grab a bite to eat, get to know each other?”

Tim slightly withdrew his hand, reaching out to steady a swaying Dick. He wanted to ask him what could’ve warranted this behavior from him, but he wasn’t sure he was prepared to hear the answer.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng-”

“Please, call me Marinette! I’m not married, nor am I a middle-aged woman. I’m only 21 after all. You’re 14, right Timothy?”

“If I call you by your name, call me Tim. Timothy sounds like a rich brat.”

Marinette’s giggle earned a small smile from the boy. He had no idea who she was, but her presence was soothing and he didn’t feel any immediate danger. Besides, she wasn’t the first person to approach him in the past week. News of his parent’s death traveled very quickly and many people attempted to adopt him in hopes that his fortune would be theirs.

Bruce was quick to wave them off, offering to adopt Tim himself, but before Tim could even think about accepting, CPS contacted Bruce with the proposal from one Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“I hadn’t realized that Bruce Wayne had caught your attention. I really want to make sure that you are able to have a regular childhood or at least some resemblance of a few normal years. If you think Bruce is a better option for you, I promise I’ll pull out right now, but if you have any doubts at all, I want to let you know that I want to fight for you, Tim.”

“I haven’t made any decisions yet and considering Bruce let me meet with you, I have to assume you’re not after my parent’s fortune.”

Marinette’s smile tightened at the mention of the fortune or was it his parents? He couldn’t tell. She was definitely holding something back, but they had just met and he wasn’t in any position to be pressuring her for some answers. What he was in the position to do was knock some sense into a now drooling Dick Grayson.

“Knock it off will you, you’re heavy and gross. You’re making a fool of the Wayne name and aren’t you supposed to be my guardian today?”

Dick muttered out something that sounded like an okay, but if Tim was honest, he wasn’t sure it was anything more than a few syllables to lower his guard.

“This is what Bruce considers a capable guardian? I’m not sure I trust him as far as I could throw him. What can it do?”

Marinette reached forward, poking Dick’s cheek, enough force to snap him out of whatever daze he had been in the past hour.

“Dick Grayson-Wayne ma’am, a pleasure to meet you.” Instantly he bowed, his hand extended as if he were waiting for something that wouldn’t come.

“Mhmm, so you are Bruce’s ward? You look like you could be his blood child. Does he have a thing for dark hair and light eyes? Creepy.”

Dick’s hand clutched his chest as if he had been struck directly in his core. Marinette turned her attention from him and back to where Tim stood.

“Anyways, I believe we mentioned lunch earlier. I’ve already submitted my application to CPS and after this formal meeting, you’re free to meet up with me whenever you would like as long as a third party comes with us. Can you think of anyone you want to come with us?”

Tim glanced to the side where he could feel Dick’s puppy eyes boring into him. He wouldn’t be his first choice but if it came down to him of Jaime, he was pretty sure he had a better chance of reigning in Dick.

“Do you mind if Dick comes with us?”

Marinette’s smile was shaken with uncertainty as if she was thinking of protesting but didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. Tim felt terrible putting her in the position but he was sure that Dick was her best chance given his options. “Of course not, where would you like to go?”

The lunch moved smoothly with Tim learning so much about her. She was originally from the Gotham foster system herself, but a young couple who couldn’t have kids adopted her at a younger age, moving her to Paris with them. She attended the equivalent of middle and high school over there where she met many lifelong friends. Starting late in her middle school years, she upstarted a fashion business where she had several big-name clients months into her start-up. Now she made personal designs, but many were taken care of by her team. She only stitched a very few commissions for close personal friends.

She was remarkable, someone who truly started from nothing. His parents did something similar as did Bruce’s. It was something he wanted for himself, something he wasn’t sure he could ever achieve with either his or Bruce’s fortune.

The custody battle was put on hold at Tim’s request. He was really intrigued by Marinette and Bruce pressuring him to take his time and really think over his choices finally led him to that decision. However, no matter how much Bruce tried to be a neutral party in the matter, Tim could feel the strain it put on their work relationship.

The more he saw Marinette, the more mess-ups occurred on patrol. Bruce would constantly tread into Tim’s area, always dropping in on his battles. It was as if he lost all trust in Tim as if he was trying to rely less on him, trying to go back to doing things on his own.

It was so frustrating. No matter how many times he told Bruce that he could still be Robin no matter who he chose, it seemed to mean nothing to him. He continually waved him off, claiming to have no idea what he was talking about.

A month after he met Marinette, Tim snuck out for the first time, begging her to meet him at a coffee shop near her hotel.

“Tim, this is dangerous. If CPS finds out we meet behind Bruce’s back, it could nullify my application.”

“I know, I know.” His head dropped to the table, buried in his arms trying to suffocate his frustration. “I just needed to get away from all of them. I think the fact that I consider you a serious option really upsets Bruce. It’s not that I don’t consider him a serious option as well, it’s just-he’s just-”

Tim let out a sigh, slowly sitting back up unsure where his thoughts were taking him.

“Tim,” Marinette reached across the table, laying her hand on his arm. “if this is too stressful for you, I can pull out of this.”

Her touch was so gentle, so soothing. It felt like the mother he never had, the kind of mother he yearned for but never realized. He really didn’t want her to leave his life just because he couldn’t give up being Robin.

“I just feel so selfish,” his vision started to blur, Marinette’s figure coming in and out of focus. “I want to keep the life I’ve made for myself here, but I also don’t feel like I can grow the way I want to under Bruce’s supervision.”

Marinette didn’t say anything for a moment, she just allowed him to cry, her thumb moving in small circles on his arm. Tim reveled in the feeling, reveled in the silence. He hadn’t had this in a while, he hadn’t had comfort for as long as he could remember. Even at his parent’s funeral, people just commented on how strong he was and how smart he was and told him he would be just fine. Not once did anyone try to hug him or ask if he was okay. They just assumed.

Everyone always just assumed.

“Tim, I haven’t been 100% honest with you since I met you. I didn’t want it to mess with your decision, but I think it’s time you knew.”

“I already know.” Tim moved his arms from her touch, his heart throbbing from the loss of touch. “I did my research on you, especially considering how Bruce let me meet you so quickly. You’ve done a lot of work to bury it, but the Will mentioned you, or at least your old name.”

Marinette’s smile was tight, her eyes as watery as his.

“Is that what’s holding you back from making the decision you want to make?”

Tim wanted to deny that he had no clear choice, but that was a lie he had been feeding himself. He wanted to stay with Bruce, in Gotham. His life was here, his friends were here, his passions were here. The only thing that wasn’t, was her.

“I want Bruce to be my official guardian. I want to be Tim Drake-Wayne.” Marinette nodded, understanding pouring from her and crashing into him. He felt like all the stress from the past month had been pushed out and replaced with relief. “But I really did want to get to know you, I didn’t want to make a decision because you would be out of my life for good. I’ve already lost you once, CPS took you didn’t they?”

“Right before mom became pregnant with you. I’m sure it happened to you too, but I was only six. They left me alone, not even a butler or maid to watch after me. They tried to argue with CPS that I was a competent child who could handle groceries and looking after myself but they didn’t buy it. My existence hadn’t even been released to the public so they didn’t take it too hard, losing me that is. But you, they immediately brought you into the limelight, almost like a challenge to CPS, I’m assuming that’s why they didn’t get involved for you no matter how many times my parent’s called and reported them.”

Tim couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled out. It seemed to have shocked Marinette too as she gave way to her own giggle threatening to spill.

“Marinette, can I ask you something selfish?”

“Of course, mon frère.” Her hand reached back across the table, gripping his tightly as if pressing him to ask the question he dreaded most.

“Will you still be apart of my life? I’m not asking you to move to Gotham, but maybe a monthly trip? A weekly dinner? Something? I just don’t want to lose you again.”

The tears that had been pooling in her eyes finally slipped free, her smile blinding.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

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

“Bruce, Marinette is coming over for game night tonight!”

“Marinette?” Dick’s head popped around the corner, the red plastered by the mere mention of her name. It sickened Tim. “But I have patrol tonight! Bruce can’t the police do their jobs for one night!”

Bruce chuckled as he set up the table, a stack of every board game imaginable piled in the middle.

“I suppose you can push it back from 11 to 5 to 2 to 5. After all, I’m not heartless.”

Tim let out an involuntary groan as he slipped into the couch, wishing it would swallow him whole.

“Whose side are you on here Bruce? She’s already your honorable daughter. Do you really need her to be part of your legal family that bad?”

“I haven’t the slightest clue what you mean.” His smirk only made Tim want to fold in on himself even more.

“Bruce, if you’re gonna set me up, can it at least be with Tim’s more attractive siblings? Like what about that Jason guy? Or Barbara Gordan?” Tim popped up in his seat, a smile beaming from ear to ear.

“Marinette’s here!” He waved her over to the seat beside him before a certain older lovebird could intervene.

“I am attractive! Why won’t you accept me Marinette?” Dick wiped away fake tears as he fell dramatically to the floor by her feet.

Tim could feel his heart overflowing for the first time in years. His life felt so fulfilled, like all of the missing pieces finally found a place. As the night continued on, only one thought stayed prominent in his mind.

He couldn’t be happier with his decision.

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[muertawrites]

Fireside (Zuko x Reader)

Word Count: 1,775

Author’s Note: I am so deeply sorry this took so long to post. I don’t know what happened but after Thanksgiving the creative part of my brain completely shut down and all I could do was lay in bed and play video games. But it’s back now so 🎉🎉🎉 happy new year to all of us! 

I got this request a WHILE ago and had written something else for it but after reconsidering, I totally hated it, so this is the rewrite for some cozy, wintery goodness. I also love this idea because I’m constantly cold - my feet and hands are always freezing and even in summer I’ll wear sweaters and hoodies because aircon can get pretty chilly when you have the body temp of your average vampire. 

Now for a little update: in the new year, I’ll be focusing more on original works than fanfiction. I’m still going to finish Two Halves, and I’ll still write fanfiction (because it’s still super fun) but I have so many ideas for original works that are taking over my brain that it seems only fitting to shift that direction. If you’re on my subscriber list and would like to only receive alerts for fanfic, let me know and I’ll add you to a separate list. 

I hope you’re all having a wonderful holiday, taking time to relax and spend time with loved ones, and generally just glad to have survived this shithole of a year. Here’s hoping that 2021 goes better - 2020 set the bar pretty low so it shouldn’t be too hard. 🥂

Snow was a rare occurrence in the Fire Nation. Summers typically scorched, followed by peaceful autumns and mild winters; a little rainfall was all one typically expected during the colder months in the Imperial City. 

This year, however, was much different. The mountains that bordered the villages and towns throughout the island were white capped under gray skies; streets were slickened by thick layers of ice that settled between cobblestones and creased the panes of windows; bracing breezes swept through landscapes unaccustomed to such unforgiving weather, carrying flurries of snow that bit at cheeks and cloaked the world in a dull ivory veil. Winter came to the Fire Nation seeking a cruel, unwarranted vengeance.

You woke in the middle of the night to find the fire beside your bed had died, leaving your borrowed room in a state of bitter, slicing cold. It wasn't the first time the Firelord’s palace had left you uncomfortably chilled since your arrival for his New Year’s celebrations, as the building was never meant to withstand this type of climate - sweeping ceilings, open breezeways, and tall windows with thin shutters ensured that the cold had its way. Being from the Northern Earth Kingdom, used to sturdy wooden lodges with massive fire pits that could burn an entire tree trunk with one lighting, this strange change of the typical season made you ache for home. 

Knowing there were no matches beside the hearth (given the sheer amount of fire benders that resided in the palace), you gathered up your courage and begrudgingly rolled from your mattress, taking the blankets with and wrapping them tightly around yourself. The walls around you creaked, shifting under the push of moaning winds, as you slipped into the hallway in search of your host. 

You were thankful that Zuko decided to keep his personal wing of the palace confined to a space that was mostly enclosed; the only breezeways in this part of the sprawling estate surrounded its courtyards and gardens, and were blocked by sets of heavy wood doors that shielded the inner parts of the building from being overcome by the elements. As you walked, traipsing through the corridor under your mound of blankets like some sort of shadowy, death-bringing phantom, you passed one of the windows that overlooked the gardens, and found it frosted under heavy white tufts of snow; puffy, clumped flakes whirled down from the sky, falling haphazardly as they escaped the grip of the whipping wind. Even in the relative warmth of the palace, your body shivered thinking of how frigid the air outside must be. 

Because of the abnormal cold, Zuko moved his mattress out of his bedroom and into his sitting room, where a large, decorative fireplace stood nestled into the far wall. You approached his sleeping form with gentle, quiet steps, being careful not to startle him; you lay a hand on his shoulder and he jolted awake, drawing a sharp breath in as he twisted to face you, blinking blearily to make out your features in the dark. 

“What are you doing?” he muttered. 

“I'm cold,” you whispered in response. “My fire went out.” 

Zuko sighed, fixing you with an irked, exhausted expression. 

“Seriously?” he groaned. “This is the third time this week.” 

“It's not my fault nobody has any friggin matches in this place,” you quipped. “And besides, why bring a servant all the way up here when I have one of the world’s greatest fire benders down the hall?”

Zuko huffed, then rolled back over in an attempt to shove you off. 

“There should be more blankets in your closet,” he grumbled. 

“I'm wearing all of them,” you retorted. 

You stood above him, waiting, but got no response. Shivering, and with an exasperated sigh, you pulled back the blankets around him, shuffling between them and nestling into his back; he snapped his head around once more, eyeing you suspiciously. 

“... Isn’t this a little uncomfortable?” he wondered. 

“Not really,” you replied. “We used to do this all the time when we were teenagers.” 

“We haven't done this since we were teenagers.”

You hummed, recalling your time together during the war. Even on the hottest days, your body was cold, your fingers always reasonably corpselike to anyone who happened to touch them - Zuko was one of those unfortunate people, and the lack of circulation in your limbs came as quite a worry to him. Throughout the day, he would take one of your hands in his, heating his palm until your skin took on a more lively temperature. When he noticed how much you layered at night when the air became cooler, he started sleeping nearer to you, eventually curling up around you to keep you warm. After the war, when he got into the habit of visiting you around the winter holidays, you still found yourself seeking him for warmth, tucking your hands into the sleeves of his robes or curling his palm around your icy fingers, finding sanctuary in the way he heated his skin to appease you. While it was true you hadn't slept together since you were younger, you hadn't ever needed to - desperate times called for desperate measures. 

“I should have remembered that you get so grumpy when you're tired,” you teased him, rubbing your feet against his; he hissed, but didn't pull away. 

“You're freezing,” he commented. “I should have remembered you're dead on the inside.” 

You giggled, sighing happily as the familiar heat of his skin warming like a furnace chased the chill from your toes. You slid your feet up along his ankles, causing him to shiver; his body tensed for a moment, then eased into your touch, quickly finding comfort in its familiarity. 

“Aang used to assume we were a couple because of this,” Zuko mumbled. “He still does.” 

“You're just a good friend,” you replied. You nuzzled your face into the broad, solid expanse of his back, breathing in his scent of scorched wood and sea salt. He felt like home. “Good friends don't let their friends freeze to death.” 

Zuko chuckled, taking hold of your hands that lay on his waist and cupping them within his own; he held your knuckles up to his mouth and huffed warm, smokey air onto them, heating them until they no longer felt cold. He tucked them beneath the fabric of his tunic, keeping them tepid between the fabric of his undershirt. 

“Uncle says the same thing,” he mused. “He says we treat each other like lovers, whether we realize it or not.” 

“My neighbors have asked me what my husband does that takes him away for so long out of the year...” you commented, eliciting another breathy laugh from your companion. “But I think I'd know if you were in love with me.” 

Zuko rolled over, turning to face you; his arm latched at your waist, his chest almost pressed to you and your noses grazing each other in the small space of his mattress. You blushed, the color blending with the soft, balmy glow of the low hearth behind him. 

“What makes you think I'm not in love with you?” he wondered. 

You paused, watching the flames flicker over the angular features of his face. Though he was silhouetted, and so close he seemed to envelop all of you, you could make out a tender gleam in his eye; could feel the flutter in his chest as he split it open, tentatively revealing his heart to you. 

“... I'd like to think you would have mentioned it,” you answered after a moment, “but I know you better than that.” 

Zuko grinned; you watched the curve of his cheek as it swelled with the action. 

“I might have mentioned it,” he murmured, his voice lilting with a gentle mirth. “Just not to you.”

“Of course not,” you teased. You mirrored his smile, easing into him as his foot began to stroke against your ankle once more. “Either way, I know you don't love me.” 

“And why is that?” Zuko whispered. 

“Well… you never write to me about anything exciting,” you replied. “You always seem so content to write to me about your thoughts, or what plays you've seen recently, or your conversations with Iroh. You never tell me about the impressive, world-altering Firelord stuff or your incredible exploits as a warrior.” 

Zuko smirked, raising a hand to brush some hair away from your face. His fingers were calloused and lukewarm, tracing over your temple with consideration and care. 

“Why else?” 

“You've never tried to kiss me,” you noted, “or touch me like a lover. You never try to push our boundaries past anything that's comfortable for us. Even right now - I'm laying in your bed, but you refuse to touch me in a way you're unsure of.” 

“Then you don't love me, either,” Zuko added. His body had gravitated flush to yours, your legs braided together under the pile of blankets you'd buried him in. “You only want to sleep with me when you're cold. You could just as easily call a servant for help.” 

“And you only want to keep me warm out of obligation,” you agreed. “It wouldn’t make you look very good if I died of hypothermia on your watch.” 

For a long moment, Zuko gazed at you. You basked in his silence, the easiness of his form so close to yours, the native feeling of his arm around your waist and his breath tickling your cheeks. The fire snapped quietly in its hearth, its flames rising and falling in time with his inhales and exhales. 

“I’ve missed this,” Zuko admitted in a whisper. “Laying with you. I wish we could do it more often.” 

“I’ve missed it, too,” you affirm. “I always used to sleep better with you.” 

“And that’s it?” Zuko teased. 

“That’s it,” you giggled back. 

He chanced a kiss to your forehead, pressing his lips between your brows and letting them linger there, savoring the coolness of your skin. You shut your eyes, giving yourself entirely to his touch. 

“In the new year… do you think we could be lovers?” he asked as he pulled away. 

“... I think your uncle is right,” you murmured. “I think we already are.” 

With a faint, bashful smile, Zuko pulled you closer (if the act were even possible), hugging you tightly to him; you held him close, pressing the whole of your body to his and soaking in his steady, comforting warmth. As the wind howled outside, shaking the flimsy wooden eaves of the feeble shelter around you, you fell asleep in the heat of his fireside, safe in the knowledge that his arms held you. 

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[notathingjustthere]

Not This Time

A/N: Honestly this feels incomplete and dry but I got frustrated arguing with myself lol. I wanted to post something today, because if I keep pushing it off I will never post anything so here it is. I’m trying.  

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 3525

Summary: Ransom oversteps a boundary and cannot seem to accept the consequence of you ignoring him permanently.

The rude interruption that graced your morning, would leave drained for the rest of your day. Your blurred eyes slowly zeroed in on the small scraps of confetti that would eventually cover the floors of your bedroom. The popping sound had woken you up in alarm, and the frown that graced your face said enough. 

The evil faces that turned up in your bedroom were painted in glee, whiles they wished you a happy birthday in unison. “And who’s cleaning that up?” you groaned, naturally reaching for the phone on your bedside table and squinting when the brightness assaults your eyes.

It was only 9:23 in the morning, the alarm was usually set for 11:30 on your weekdays, but you tended to snooze till 12:15. You weren't a morning person and your friend Lizzie knew this when she pleaded on your behalf, arguing that 10:00 was a far more reasonable time to wake you up. Mila, your other friend had disregarded the input of course. 

As of late your weekends were more often than not reserved for sleep, this one being no different. Monday would be a holiday so the next 72 hours were intended to be spent alone in your house, at least that had been the plan. You had been feeling more dull than usual, and even your restocked liquor cabinet failed to excite you. 

The brunch set up in your backyard was very much up to par with your tastes.  It felt pointless to change so you still wore your pajamas, after washing your face and complaining about the time. Your friends had gone all out for the small gathering, hiring quite the eye candy of servers. Each one waited at the table, ready to help you girls to your seats. 

Your eyes lingered on one of the men a bit longer than intended, and the unexpected wink sent your way forced your eyes to look elsewhere. Mila jerked at your elbow, before wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at you. You had rolled your eyes before bursting out in laughter, enjoying the rest of your late morning meal with your two best girlies. It had been a while since you saw your friends, so you were glad, to say the least

Unlike you, Lizzie and Mila grew up accustomed to a lifestyle that only old money could provide. They didn't work as often as you did, which made it harder to fit into each other's schedules during the week. You did not grow up poor per se, but when compared to your friends, you could have been perceived that way. Your mother was a professor at Brown University, a fairly successful woman you thought. 

You had found your own definition for success, living comfortably and content with yourself,  as you often described it. Working in a high-level position for a growing green energy company, you took pride in your resilience. Many of your years were filled with uncertainties but finally, you had made something of yourself. The full ride to Harvard was where you met Lizzie and Mila, never expecting to develop a long-lasting relationship.

The cell you kept for personal use remained ignored after Lizzie dragged you out of bed that morning. The ringer was often placed on silent, resulting in poor communication habits with your friends. It was noon before you thought to check your device, the notification centre being flooded with messages and alerts. 

Most you assumed were birthday wishes from people you hardly talked to anymore and some that you were only associated with because of status. They meant very little to you, but the sham thankful replies you sent were only to keep face. 

A particular contact had occupied your thoughts for the past two weeks. The spam of messages you left open yet unread grew steadily. You were intent on ignoring him for as long as you felt necessary. He was not important enough to ruin your mood this weekend, or so you thought.

The last bits of sparkling wine settled nicely in your stomach, your chest feeling warm and tingly. You appreciated the quality time spent with your friends but it was time to resume back to your initial plan for the weekend. Lizzie and Mila had their own plans and intended to make your day as lively as possible. On any other day, you’d be down for a good time, but as of late you felt out the mix.

For gifts, Mila had opted for this beautiful emerald green bag from Bulgar. The serpent’s head-shaped clasp suited your corporate persona, which she admired. Lizzie gifted you a pair of Prada boots that she felt were suitable to your tastes. 

It was 6 pm when the two informed you of the private room they reserved at a club. Lizzie’s boyfriend would attend, including two other guests, you were well acquainted with. You weren’t interested at first but eventually caved in at the last minute thought of letting loose and having some fun. 

Your ringer silenced another phone call, it was his 86th one since last Friday. You were impressed with his persistence, figuring he would have given up by now. Newer messages had poured in, none of which you spared a glance until the last message he sent in.

“Fine, if this is how you wanna play it” you read. 

The spat you had gotten into with Ransom, had been your last straw. He was quite the specimen, but a prick at that. The trust fund baby had been spoiled his whole life, and couldn’t seem to handle not having his way for once. 

The relationship that brewed between you both could only be described as complicated. It had taken a lot to manage and handle the baggage he brought with him, but you both had balanced each other for a period of time. Now, you were bent on moving on, trying to convince yourself that you were over him, as he also tried to.

It was at Mila’s charity event that you would officially meet the douche, having only heard of him before. The free champagne helped soothe your nerves that night, as you often would be riddled in anxiety. It was an art exhibition, and you’d gotten roped into a conversation with the famous Harlan Thrombey, discussing a painting you knew a thing or two about. 

That was when Ransom had walked in, interrupting the conversation. You had turned away, fiddling with your glass as you patiently waited for them to finish whatever it was they were briefly discussing. Harlan turned to you, and introduced Ransom, before announcing that he would have to leave you shortly to give a speech. 

At the time Ransom didn't really catch your eye, you avoided making eye contact as you usually would with new people and had missed the way he looked at you. He wanted you in his bed for the night, and you had indulged him likewise. You were gone by morning that day, never being one to wait for the usual awkward boot out. 

Maybe you didn't notice it at first, but his face had begun popping up at your usual spots more and more. You’d run into him at a coffee shop where you often scheduled meetings with prospective clients. There were a couple more hookups here and there before he asked you out to dinner five months down the line. That was almost three years ago. 

Neither one of you talked about making the relationship official until you initiated the conversation. You had been on multiple dates, including the occasional family dinners his family hosted. You never did like attending them, but Ransom had wanted you at his side. You both spent a lot of time at each other's homes, and soon enough it wasn't just for the sex. 

He’d thought of you as his home and maybe you did too. On most days you preferred to have your space, but as of late you missed his not-so-subtle touches whenever he’d pass by you in the kitchen. 

That didn't seem to matter now, because you would never admit it out loud or to yourself. Ransom on the other hand loved being in close contact most of the time. As much as he denied the fact, you’d let him pretend the cuddling sessions during movie nights were due to the lack of space on the couch. 

You never got accustomed to Ransom’s lavish tastes. He’d been quite the spender on gifts and more times than not you insisted that he return most of his purchases. You could appreciate expensive things, but much rather make those purchases yourself. 

He only ever did demand that you keep a particular gift, one you’d almost given back after learning of its monetary value. The personalised bracelet with his and your initials on it had been your favourite. Not once did you ever take it off, and even now you still wore it after two weeks of ignoring him. 

It all started when your boss confronted you about an offer he didn’t expect you to decline so quickly. He insisted that you take your time to reconsider, and you had been confused, having never heard anything about it. You were suspicious of Ransom, almost immediately, but thought to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

At times he could be controlling, something you’d catch once in a while when you paid attention. There would be discussions about it, but oftentimes things got brushed aside as petty jealousy or mindless over-protectiveness. This time, you couldn’t and wouldn't let it slide. 

It was at dinner time when you decided to break out your thoughts and bring something up. You wanted to avoid confrontation, knowing he’d probably try to lie to your face or react in a way you were not ready to handle. He asked about your day as he usually would, and you took the chance to talk about what your boss mentioned, unaccusing of course. 

He played along with your confusion for a while, looking unimpressed as you went on. The contract would require your stay in China for two years, assisting in project management at the company’s main plant. Two years seemed long, and you could understand why the news was not exactly exciting. You had merely mentioned that you were considering the offer when he cut you off.  

“Well that's stupid, is this some kind of joke?” Ransom's response was expected but you had hoped he would show remorse more if anything. You frowned, arms folded when asking him to elaborate on how he was feeling

“I mean, you're gonna leave me for two years? What am I supposed to do, just wait for you?” 

“I would hope so, considering all that we have been through to make this work?”

“Come on, really?” he chuckled darkly, “You think I would wait?” 

“Why are you acting like this? I thought at the very least you'd pretend to be happy for me before reacting this way” you moved your hands in a way that emphasised your point. 

“Oh like you don't know that I declined the offer.”

The sigh you let out was deep. There it was, the confession you wanted out of him. You hated being lied to more than anything and were very disappointed he played along with your little act for even just a little bit. 

“I mean, but what did you expect? That I wouldn't find out about something as important to me as this?” 

“So what, I’m not as important?” he tried changing the topic.

“You know that's not what I mean, and you don't get to play the victim here. I-i don't get it with you, I’m always understanding, so why can't you return the favour”

He turned silent, which you thought was disappointing considering he had so much to say before. The anger you were trying so hard to settle down began to rear its ugly head.  It was a couple more minutes of silence before he opened his mouth to say something.

“You didn't think I’d find it suspicious that your boss was transferring with you?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion at that. Jonathan had not mentioned anything like that and you knew Ransom didn't like him, especially after a particular encounter at your office. 

He had shown up at your job unannounced a year ago to surprise you for your birthday when he saw the arrangements of flowers that decorated your office. Ransom did not look impressed at the scene, and knowing he would never partake in such a gesture you ruled him out. It wasn't until you noticed the card attached to one of the flowers that read out your boss's name.

“Great Job closing that deal, and a happy birthday! - Jonathan.”  

As if on queue the head of the department walked in with smiles, asking if you enjoyed his gifts. He rambled on about not knowing what you would like, so figured he’d get a little bit of everything.  

“She hates flowers,” Ransom had cut in without hesitation, your eyes widening at his remark. Leave it to him to make the inappropriate gesture from your boss even more awkward. 

“He’s not wrong, but I really do appreciate the sentiment. Thank you” you had given him a kind smile, trying to save face. You couldn't remember what happened after that except Jonathan leaving and your boyfriend silently fuming as he walked over to your window. 

You turned your attention to him, raising an eyebrow as if to question his behaviour. You were not angry with him, this was a rare moment where you actually appreciated his blunt tongue. Hopefully, your boss would now relent in his not-so-subtle advances. 

But that was a long time ago, and frankly, it didn't matter because he was focused on the wrong thing at hand. He had invaded your privacy then lied about it by not saying anything. 

“First of all I got this promotion because I worked my fucking ass off, I don't know what Johnathan has to do with anything.” you decided to defend yourself. Whatever it was that he was insinuating didn't matter because you weren't having it.

“Yeah, you fucking worked your ass off alright. You've got him so whipped that he even gets you flowers” 

You gasped, and it wasn't so much that the words hurt you, but rather the fact that he’d been clearly harbouring this since that day. There was not much you could do about unsolicited gifts that you never accepted in the first place. Besides, after Ransom’s visit, your boss had ceased all efforts. 

“Do you actually hear how insane that sounds? What the fuck was I supposed to do about that?” You reasoned, the calmness in your voice was long gone. 

“Quit” he was so arrogant and entitled. 

You scoffed,  “Well I’m sorry, but some of us actually have to work, to earn a living” the tone you took to, spoke well for you.

“I can take care of you, you know that” 

“That sounds nice and all, but I can’t depend on a man who’s never worked a day in his life.” There it was again, the silence.  

“You don't even seem sorry, and you've yet to apologize” the disappointment was evident on your face. 

He rubbed his hands over his face, his nose flaring up in annoyance, “I did what was best for us”  

“No, you did what was best for you” you started but had lost your train of thought. 

“You still don't fucking get it, do you? It's one thing to not want me to leave, but it's completely different when you think that you get to make decisions for me.” the words spewed out. 

“I'm tired of trying to reason with you Ransom, okay? We are done”

It wasn't even a second after, before he grabbed your arm, tightening his hold on you and yanking you towards him. “We are not done until I say we are” 

For a moment there he scared you, he had never put his hands on you like that, at least not outside the bedroom. Your stance did not falter when you yanked your arm away from him “Don't you ever put your hands on me again.”  

The initial shock had long subsided when you decided to speak for the last time. “Let me remind you, that you're that one that begs me back every single time! But not this time, I'm tired of you. T-tired of your shit, the jealousy, childishness, everything!” Those were your last words before your tearducts gave up. 

It was the first time he had ever seen you actually cry. Occasionally he would witness you shed a tear or two, like when you’d receive a wrong order of what you wanted, or something equally as petty.

 He tried to come closer in an attempt to comfort you, but you pushed him aside then turned away. He decided to walk out then and there, leaving you to deal with your own sorrows. 

You remember that day so vividly, and each time the memory replayed you did something to distract yourself. Much like you were doing right now at the club with your friends. The boost that alcohol gave you, left you chatty but numb. 

The buzz had you going for a while, completely indulged in a game of pool with Mila who was effortlessly schooling you. She could not let you win, not even on your birthday. It was the commotion at the door that drew your attention to Ransom arguing with the security guard and Lizzie's boyfriend, Dan. 

“Look dude, she doesn't want you here. Come on don't make this difficult” you didn't realise it but you had made your way towards Dan’s voice, not really processing what was going on. It was the sound of Ransom's knuckles punching Dan in his nose that woke you up from your little daze.  

“I said get out of my way” Ransom tried to push his way through.

“Ransom” you yelled out.

His head turned towards you rushing to Dan who held his nose up in pain. You apologised profusely as you checked his injury, thankful that nothing was broken or bleeding. You turned to your ex-boyfriend annoyed, ready to talk his ear off until you remembered you didn't care anymore.

“If you think this is how to get me to talk to you in good grace, then I don't know what to tell you,” you said, pointing behind you at Dan and Lizzie.

“What do you want? ”You sighed frustrated, after signalling the security guard off. He really wasn't making this easy for you. His hands had twitched before when you held Dan’s face to inspect his nose. He knew better than to make things any worse than it already was. 

“Look, so maybe, I have stuff to work on, and maybe we can both work on this”

“Mmm, you think so?” you asked rhetorically. It took him two weeks to come to this conclusion, and you noted how he did not start with apologies. He wanted to skip out on the guilt, but you wouldn't let him.

He tried to get closer to you, wanting to feel you against him and to reminisce in the sweet warmth he missed so much. You allowed him to, and for a moment you revelled in his familiar body heat as well, ignoring everything else around you. You let go of him after a while, distancing yourself to make it easier on you.

It took a lot to keep your composure, a part of you wanting him back but knew much wouldn’t change if you did. You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself to relay whatever decision you had made. You were right about one thing, Ransom would always beg you back. Never-ending the cycle of broken boundaries, possessiveness, and jealousy. 

“Look Ransom, I couldn’t give you another chance even if I wanted to” you sighed loudly. “I-it goes against my principles, and that's all I have right now. So please, just leave.” you pleaded.

Ransom’s eyes hardened, he wouldn’t back down. This time you noticed the speck of regret in his eyes, but to damn with his jealousy. He didn't want this to end, and he hadn’t meant for it to. 

“Come on, don't be so stubborn, Y/N. I love you, is that what you want me to say? I’ll do anything just say the word” 

You smiled with hurt in your eyes as you looked at him. The words didn't mean much to you when his actions suggested otherwise. It was the insincere note in his tone that made it easier, but maybe he had meant it. His eyes were much more expressive than his words could be, not that it changed anything.

You simply shook your head no, looking down at your hands and playing with your fingers. 

“No, you don't” 

The cheap trick at making amends, would not coax your forgiveness, not this time.

Thank you for reading :) 

A/N: My  sister requested that I put her in the credits for her lil two cents in some of the dialogue, so here she goes. 

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

↝ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ: y/n pinning them against a wall - prompt inspired by this twitter post

↝ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: kuroo x f!reader + sakusa x f!reader 

↝ ᴡᴄ: kuroo - 1000+ sakusa - 900+ 

↝ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: swearing, aggressive behaviour-ish. 

↝ ᴀ/ɴ: I’ll be doing this prompt for Osamu, Akaashi and Yaku too soon ~ I just like it a bit too much haha. also I edited this 3 times so if there are still errors, I am sorry pls ignore. lmao. 

Kuroo Tetsurou

A low rhythmic hum vibrated inside of your throat, to accompany the track playing from your phone. Those who were fortunate enough to catch the melody trailing along with you, would often find a smile on their face. Between the tranquility of the sound and the bliss warping into your aura – your presence accidentally had an impact on many. Those in your university only knew you as the kind singer who would offer sincere smiles, free of cost. It was a reputation you did not mind adhering to – maybe it was better that they did not see the darker shades that coloured your soul. So, generally, a smile would remain sewn into your visage – unwavering until you were within the safety of your home. Where you could release the other parts of you that were deemed “not school friendly.”

Though, today your calculated barrier between the two worlds would disintegrate, due to the careless words of your best friend, Kuroo Tetsurou.

Upon reaching the corner that would connect you to the hallway where your class room was situated, you plucked out an earbud and placed it back into its case. Since this was a course you shared with Kuroo, the two of you held an uncommunicated agreement to wait for the other before entering the room. The thought of your close friend twisted a knot inside of your chest with threads of adoration, excitement and hope. It was quite clear that your relationship was not merely platonic. The issue was that neither of you had initiated the first step to test the boundaries.

But you would try today. You would try after class.

“So, what’s going on between you and l/n?”

Hearing your last name, you paused before switching hallways. How many other l/n’s were at the university? It was certainly a conversation about you. 

So the question was, who was the one posing the question, and who was the one about to answer it?  

“We’re just friends.”

Okay. Easy. That was Kuroo. 

The nonchalance laced into his answer fueled the flame igniting in the pit of your stomach, yet you continued to conceal your presence from the pair. 

“So you don’t mind if I ask her out?”

“It’s not my place to say anything.” Even without a visual, you knew your best friend would have added a shrug to accompany the statement. Somehow, that irritated you more. 

Rolling your eyes, you stepped past the corner for your grand reveal. “Hi there, boys. You wouldn’t mind if I borrowed Tetsurou for a second, would you?” 

Your sudden emergence had startled Kuroo, but what had his chest constricting was your use of his first name and the hallow laugh that was spilling from your lips. 

“Uh, sure…”

It took you a second to realize who the other male was – he was an acquittance of yours, one you shared two classes with. One who was mostly forgettable not due to a lack of charm, but solely because he wasn’t Kuroo.

“Perfect. Thank you.” Curling your fingers around your best friend’s wrist, you dragged him down the hallway, not caring for the confused glances thrown into your direction by those around you. When you reached the area between the staircase and corridor, you gently pushed him against the wall before placing both of your palms on either side of him. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but you were quick to drown out his voice with your own.

“No. You don’t get to do that. Just friends? That’s bullshit.” The concoction of emotions weaving into your bloodstream had given you a headrush. But at the center of the varying feelings was fear. Because you wanted more than a friendship, and you were about to risk your entire relationship for that desire. You tried to suppress it, but over time it became overwhelming. And now – his words had awoken something inside of you. Something you could not contain.

The black-haired male blinked down at you, his irises moving from your arms walling him in, to the death glare your eyes were partaking in. “Isn’t that what we are, y/n? Friends?”

Out of the options available to him, Kuroo had selected the one for a coward. Or perhaps, he was testing you. Either way, your irritation with him had increased tenfold.

“Fuck you.” Lowering your hands on either side, you stepped away from him before turning back into the direction of your class.

“I wasn’t done yet.” A sigh left his mouth as he caught your wrist with his hand, tugging you towards him. Once your back aligned with his chest, he repositioned his arms to curl around your stomach. Heat spread throughout your entire body, and you were unsure whether it was from your anger or due to his close proximity. “We are friends, y/n. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be more. You’re right, it is bullshit. But I can’t exactly go around telling everyone in the school that I’m in love with you, now can I?” Feeling you become incredibly still in his arms, he chuckled softly, pressing a kiss against your head. “But if I had known you would get that pissed off so easily, I would have said something stupid earlier. Because pinning me against the wall – that was hot.”

“Shut up.” Breaking away from his hold, you spun around to face him. A half smirk was tugging at his lips, one that communicated how much he enjoyed the situation. “You are horrible. What would you have done if that guy asked me out and I said yes? Hm?”

“I’d probably cry and then say on to the next one!” To further instigate you, he dipped an eyelid into a wink.

“Really. Horrible.” With your passion deflating, exhaustion crept into your muscles, bringing a groan to sound. “Let’s just get to class.”

“Nuh huh. We can ditch one class. Plus, you still haven’t said it back.” Tilting his head, he proceeded a step forward to close the distance once more. He then tapped on your chin, allowing your gazes to connect. 

Inhaling a deep breath, a faint smile was presented towards him.

“I love you too, idi-.”

The remaining half of the insult did not leave your mouth, rather it was replaced with a muffled protest as Kuroo gently caught your lips with his. As you tried to break the exchange, he tangled his fingers in your hair, keeping you secure against him, before mumbling. 

“That’s boyfriend to you.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi 

The repetitive interaction between the laminated flooring and the leather training balls had resulted in a dull ache in your temples. As the manager of a professional volleyball team, you were well accustomed to the noise but today, your patience was running thin. Practice had officially ended two hours ago, and yet your boyfriend, Sakusa Kiyoomi continued fine-tuning his serves. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you scanned the male for any indication of exhaustion – something you would have capitalized on, in order to reason with him. Except the outside hitter’s reserve of energy was far from being depleted. It often surprised you how resilient he was, he certainly did not have Bokuto or Hinata’s stamina, but that did not keep him from pursuing his goals. Whenever he would discover a new technique or target, he would work on it relentlessly. It was an admirable trait, one that made him one of the best players you had ever seen.

And let it be known, supporting him was always your intention. But at the moment, you were passing your own limits and remaining calm and composed was not an option. Between the throbbing on either side of your head and the acids chewing away at your stomach lining from hunger, you were seconds from raiding Bokuto’s secret snack stash.

“Omi, you’re done. Go take a shower.” After swapping your clipboard for a towel, you proceeded across the court, before offering it out to him.

The outside hitter stared at you in response, indicating that he heard your commands but was electing to ignore them. Returning his attention to the volleyball within his grasp, he began prepping for another serve. A sigh mixed with a growl rattled inside of your throat as you twisted the towel in frustration. When the ball landed on the opposite side of the court, an eerie grin stretched onto your mouth.

“Omi. You little shit.”

With each step you took forward, Sakusa intuitively took one step back until his back was met with the padding attached to the wall. You were quite aware of your height difference, although that did not matter. You planted your hands on either side of him, purposefully caging him in. Knitting his brows together, confusion swam in his dark irises.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing? I’m not asking you to finish up. I’m telling you. We finished practice two hours ago, and I am starving. If you do not go into there and take a shower this instant, I will not be responsible for what happens to you. You know what they say – you’re not yourself when you’re hungry.” After gesturing to the locker room with your head, you squinted at him, attempting to seem menacing. However, you were only met with amusement.

“Are you saying you will eat me?” The question had Sakusa battling a smile. Was he really supposed to find that scary?

“We both know someone like you would taste delicious, so I’m not saying that isn’t a possibility.” Maintaining a deadpan expression while spouting nonsense was not a task for the weak – but after having countless conversations with actual idiots, you had mastered it. You would not provide your boyfriend any satisfaction.

“Okay. I’ll go.” His admittance of defeat was joined with the raise of his eyebrow, communicating that he expected you to “release him” now. You were about to comply with the silent request when he dipped down and placed a fleeting kiss onto your mouth. The sudden display of affection had erupted a volcano of butteries inside your stomach.

“What the …”

Leaving you there baffled, the MSBY player slipped past your defenses, smiling to himself. 

Two could play at this game.

Later that night:

After gifting you an apology meal at your favourite fast-food joint, you both elected to walk home rather than taking a taxi. His fingers were intertwined with yours loosely, and since the streets were mostly abandoned, he had removed his mask, permitting his lungs unrestricted access to the fresh air. Now that your mood had elevated significantly after satisfying your human needs, you were ready to question your boyfriend on what occurred earlier inside of the arena.

“So, why’d you kiss me?” Kissing was generally an activity he preferred to engage in after showering. And therefore, you were puzzled by his recent actions.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shifting his gaze to the row of streetlamps that framed the sidewalk, he lifted his shoulders into a shrug.

“You liked that I threatened you, didn’t you?” A gentle laugh danced past your lips as you shook your head. That seemed to be the only explanation you could think of in the moment.

“No. You looked cute trying to seem scary.” He joined his retort with a scoff, although it was evident, he was suppressing any physical indication of joy.

“I am scary!” Resisting your urge to pout, you squished his hand to reinforce your statement.

“Yeah, sure you are.” Refusing to bestow upon you his full attention, his eyes travelled to the sky above. While he would not vocalize it, he found most of your antics to be ridiculously adorable. It was what he loved about you. And there was no denying that you could certainly scare others when deprived of food – but not him.

“I will eat you. Don’t tempt me.” A small pout forced its way to your lips to display your mild annoyance. Though, the emotion was easily defeated when Sakusa in a quick swoop, stole another kiss. This time, however, he lingered, enjoying the taste of your lips. 

It turned out that maybe his rules around kissing required some amending. Because he wanted to kiss you, whether or not some of his pre-conditions were met. Guess that was a consequence of being in love.

Once he pulled away, he exhaled a chortle.

“Yeah? I’m looking forward to it.”

General taglist: @haikyuufairy​ @newfriendjen​ @lvoejimin​ @moonlightaangel​ @gyozaaaaa​ @byun-nies​ @thevillagehiddenintheinternet​ @amberalisa​ @graykageyama​ @yourstarvic​ @chaichai-the-weeb​ @chibishae34​ @haikyuusimp91​ @volleybloop​  @rajablast​ @idiot-juice-enthusiast​ @melonmayhere​ @cuddlesslut​  @athenarosaline​ @memes-and-money​ @coconut-dreamz​   @elianetsantana​ @tsumume​ @tsukkismamagucci​ @the-golden-jhope​ @camcam1617​  @elephantloser​ @dreamstormings​ @anejuuuuoy​  @fantasycantasy​ @aquariarose​ @bloody-bella​​ 

[mybg3notebook]

Gale: Hypothesis and Analogies – Part 1

Here, I compile several hypotheses that are pretty common to find around, expressing my opinion on them and showing what EA has given us so far to justify them or not. 

Disclaimer Game Version: All these analyses were written up to the game version v4.1.104.3536 (Early access). As long as new content is added, and as long as I have free time for that, I will try to keep updating this information. Written in June 2021.

Disclaimer about interpretations of Real Life concepts: I’m not a fan of bringing real life issues into plain analogies/allegories in a game which intention in doing so was not made explicit, but the fandom seems to like this aspect and therefore I would like to share those opinions here as well since some seems reasonable despite not being of my taste. This topic may be sensitive for some people. Be aware of it.

Hypothesis: Gale was groomed

Concept

Grooming is building a relationship, trust, and emotional connection with a child or young person (and sometimes their family as well) to lower the child's inhibitions with the objective of sexual abuse. Grooming allows offenders to slowly overcome natural boundaries long before sexual abuse occurs. On the surface, grooming a child can look like a close relationship between the offending adult, the targeted child and (potentially) the child’s caregivers. The grooming process is often misleading because the offender may be well-known or highly regarded in the community. As a result, it’s easy to trust them. Although grooming is more common among children, it may happen with adults too, especially in work environments.

Stages: First, perpetrators may target and exploit a child’s perceived vulnerabilities: emotional neediness, isolation, neglect, a chaotic home life, or lack of parental oversight, etc. They work to gain the trust of parents/caregivers to lower suspicion.

Once the perpetrator begins to fill the child's needs, they may assume a more important role in the child's life. Perpetrators utilize tactics such as gift giving, flattery, gifting money, and meeting other basic needs. Tactics may also include increased attention and affection towards the targeted child. The perpetrator uses isolation tactics to reinforce their relationship with the child by creating situations in which they are alone together or by cultivating a sense that they love and understand the child in a way that others, even their parents, cannot. 

Once emotional dependence and trust have been built, the perpetrator progressively sexualizes the relationship. When sexual abuse is occurring, perpetrators commonly use emotional manipulation; they make the child believe they are the only person who can meet their emotional and material needs. The child may feel that the loss of the relationship, or the consequences of exposing it, will be more damaging and humiliating than continuing the unhealthy relationship. 

Behavioural consequence

The consequences on victims of grooming tend to be very different depending on the victim's age, personality, and psychology, but some broad leftover traits or behaviours can be summarised as:

They are too eager to please and have a great avoidance of angering others.

Big desire for privacy: they know others will not understand what they lived.

The victim becomes withdrawn, or they may seem troubled by something but unwilling to talk about it. Alternatively, their emotions might become more volatile.

They tend to be unaware of the abuse for a long while even after the relationship ended. 

If they are aware, they tend to display shame and embarrassment for what happened.

They can suffer abandonment issues depending on the way this relationship ended. 

They tend to develop difficulties to maintain relationships.

This situation tends to be particularly invisible or dismissed for men and boys due to social norms about masculinity.

Inside the context of BG3

First, it's important to estimate Gale's age. More or less the fandom agrees he is currently (1492DR) in his early 30s. Mystra returned in 1479DR (read the post about "Mystra and her Chosen ones" for details), so Mystra may have lured Gale into serving her as Chosen when he was around 17 years old (this depends on every player’s perception of Gale’s age)

This gives us a good estimation of the context: When Mystra returned thanks to Elminster—who gave her most of his Silver Fire—she immediately started to strengthen her network of Chosen ones and to work on repairing the Weave to its original state. Due to this unique context, Gale may have been observed by Mystra as a precious asset: a very young wizard who could not only control the Weave but compose it: a great skill to repair a still weak Weave. Furthermore, in the novel Dead Masks (1491DR), it is stated that the best way to cast a spell with a weakened Weave is to "twist" it instead of using it for tapping into the Raw Magic. In this book it is not clear if this is a skill that only Chosen ones have, but it has a strong similarity with Gale's skills.

Although we don't know much about Gale's childhood, if he was neglected or not as a child to be more easily lured by the Goddess, we can agree that it's most likely that Mystra has been watching him as a potential candidate since a child. Gale explicitly says: "I’ve been in touch with the Weave for as long as I can remember". And as far as Forgotten Realms lore goes, Weave and Mystra are the same. We also know that this is a common behaviour of Mystra who has been watching precocious, skilful wizards before choosing them for her goals: for example, Midnight. 

When Gale reached an age that could be considered a "(very) young man", she seduced him, using his passion and love for Magic to lure him. She offered him a deep connection with her and with the Weave: with Magic itself. After seeing Gale's passion for magic, it is understandable that he—as a teenager or a young man—must have been dazzled by her and her proposal. We know that, in the novel Elminster: a mage in the making, she offered to Elminster exactly what he wanted the most: power to make his revenge possible . By the end of the encounter, Elminster became “charmed” by her despite hating her throughout all his life, turning into her devotee. This situation can be interpreted as another example of how Mystra works: she seems to lure her potential Chosen with the promise of giving them what they are most passionate about.

Once Mystra slept with her Chosen, and imbued her divine essence on them, she left them to their own devices, making them wait for her commands. In Elminster’s and Sammaster ‘s case, both were put under tests, being forced—by their own drive to please the Goddess—to develop more magic and personal skills to serve her. In the process, both developed an obsession for her. Elminster's seems to be less self-destructive than Sammaster's, but the latter could be understandable since he always suffered from madness. My point is, the pattern continues with Gale: driven by this obsession of wanting Mystra close, to please her, Gale tried to control an ancient magic, and failed, being abandoned by Mystra due to this mistake.

Gale, according to this interpretation as a victim of grooming, is still stuck in the process: he wants to please Mystra, wants to right his wrongs, even though in some scenes he seems to have been over her, in others he still seems to be very attached to her (it's hard to know which is the most accurate since it's EA and Gale was rushed), he keeps all this trouble in private because he knows nobody will understand.

Unlike an adult who realised he was victim of grooming, Gale seems to be still not over that relationship, showing many of the behavioural consequences: 

Gale is a person who is always eager to please and avoid confrontations. If there is no choice he will use violent means, but he will always push for diplomatic approaches [1,2]. This trait seems to favour this interpretation.

He has a strong sense of privacy to the point that he is considered "shady". A lot of that desire for privacy may come from the fact that he knows no one will understand the unique relationship he had with a bigger entity. This can be seen by choosing the meanest options during the Weave and the Loss. Despite his many troubles, he remains secretive, acknowledging that "some things can't be spoken". 

He is completely unaware of having been a victim of such power imbalance. He doesn't see abuse in it, and he is not performative about this fact, since he is very private on the topic until very late in game.

Nobody can deny his abandonment issues (which are even explicitly pointed out in the dev's notes) [20]

We can infer, by all the information given, that Mystra has been his first (and presumably only) relationship so far, giving a possible hint that he may have decided not to enter another relationship again or may have felt apprehensive about it (even though I personally think this impediment is mainly caused by the “orb”).

I don't completely subscribe to this interpretation because I don’t think Mystra’s main goal has been sexual abuse, but the creation of servants and devotees that allow her to expand her power. To do so, she uses sex as part of the “ritual” that transforms certain mortals into Chosen Ones. The way in which this is indirectly explained in the novels makes me remember the concept of Zeus and his abuse of mortals: he spreads part of his divinity in the form of demi-god offspring. In Mystra’s case, she seems to leave part of her divinity in the Chosen one that slept with her: the “seed” of semi-divinity. 

However, it’s not clear if sleeping with her Chosen ones is a procedure she always does. Her daughters may have inherited her divinity when she conceived them while possessing a mortal body, but other female Chosen Ones seemed to be out of this process. Ed Greedwood also has a constant discourse in his novels where he explains that magic is “better” understood or much easily wielded by females because “they are connected to their emotions” and another stereotype of this kind. What seems to be clear is that Forgotten Realm lore hides as much as possible its queerness, and when it comes to Mystra, this habit of sleeping with her Chosen seems to apply (or at least make it more explicit) only to male mortals. So in short, her main goal was to catch another useful mortal to her group of Chosen Ones, and to do so, she lured Gale with all what she could offer. I also believe gods are gods, and they are immensely overpowered and entitled to do whatever they want in this fantasy world. They don't follow mortal rules, so they may have little scruples to do anything they see necessary to achieve their own goals, no matter if the consequences of their actions affect children, teenagers, or adults. 

Mystra in particular has been a very neutral goddess (due to her many rebirths), not particularly cruel as an evil deity could be, but not completely selfless either: she has conceived her daughters using a mortal vessel who previously gave her consent but without knowing the consequences of giving birth each year for a decade while containing a goddess inside. Mystra also profited off of Sammaster's madness (some Harpers who wrote Sammaster’s reports suspect she could have been able to cure him): she may have actively decided not to in order to let his genius madness increase her realm of power/magic. Therefore, Mystra may have had little scruples to use a very young Gale enamoured with magic to turn him into another Chosen whose skills could fix the Weave given the context that it had been severely weakened after the Spellplague. So the grooming is not completely misplaced in my opinion.

Gale's Chosen selection process is not different to what we can read in the book of the Cult of the Dragon, where Sammaster became obsessed with Mystra after sleeping with her and developed metamagic as a consequence to impress her. Or in the novel Elminster, the making of a mage, where Elmister originally despised Mystra and every magic user. However, after being in her presence, he fell for her charm, and never could get over his "love" for her, suffering a lot of painful circumstances to just be a "good devotee" and serve her.

Mystra is written in most novels as the living allegory of the beautiful "mean" woman who will always ask for more from her poor captivated men, but she will never be completely satisfied, no matter how much they sacrifice. She acknowledges the effort, but she is always asking for more. Only with Elminster she actively tried to save him from the Hells, showing, for a change, that her Chosen can be a bit more than mere pawns in the big game of divine power. However, it's important to highlight that the last rebirth of Mystra has changed her: in the novel Dead Masks some of the Seven Sisters explicitly say that Mystra has turned paranoid, asking each of her Chosen to do missions that the others cannot know. She has become more secretive and cryptic than ever. 

Mystra's actions seem to have worse connotation if we think that she can have visions of the future, as she had when she decided that Sammaster had to be her Chosen: she had foresaw the death of another Chosen and she wanted him to fill that vacuum before the event happened. So she may have foreseen Gale’s actions in his naive way to impress her. Maybe she wanted him to do it, so she could have a new piece of magic in her realm. But this is mere speculation, we will need the full release of the game to have the answer.

As I explained, despite not being a fan of it, the interpretation of grooming is not a bad one. It fits mostly if it's applied to a teenage boy, and probably it would have been taken a bit more seriously and less prone to jokes inside the fandom if Gale were a female character and Mystra a male God. 

Hypothesis: Gale has abandonment Issues

Concept

Abandonment issues arise when an individual has a strong fear of losing loved ones. A fear of abandonment is a form of anxiety. It often begins in childhood when a child experiences a traumatic loss. Children who go through this experience may then begin to fear losing other important people in their lives. Some individuals continue to fear abandonment as they grow older. Although it is less common, abandonment issues can also sometimes begin in adulthood. 

The loss often stems from a trauma, such as a death or divorce. Emotional abandonment, where a parent or caregiver is physically present but emotionally absent, may also give rise to abandonment issues later in life. It is not clear what makes one person develop this fear, since not all humans who have experienced similar losses do it. Trauma — potentially from abuse or poverty — may play a role, as may the level of emotional support that a person receives following a loss. These issues can have a significant effect on a person’s life and relationships because they fear that the other person will leave them at any moment. 

Behavioural signs/consequences

Being overly eager to please ( a “people pleaser”) 

Pushing others away to avoid rejection

Jealousy of the partner or the others when in a relationship.

Trouble trusting their partner's intentions.

Feeling insecure about their relationships.

Codependency

Need for continuous reassurance that others love them and will stay with them

Persisting in unhealthy relationships

Inability to maintain relationships: or moving quickly from one relationship to another or sabotaging them

Inside the context of BG3

I'm not going to explain this in great detail since it's spread in most of the posts I’ve done about Gale's analysis. What it's clear is that Gale has a constant fear for abandonment once he starts caring for Tav as a friend or/and lover, and this fear makes him prone to do things of poor taste. This fear seems to make him look for acceptance that only through a night of intimacy can give him. This information is apparently in the book he read, making us guess that his experience with relationships is rather poor if nonexistent. Dev's notes also reinforce the idea that Gale fears abandonment:

Gale: It is my truth, finally revealed. It is this folly that led Mystra to abandon me completely. I can only hope you won’t abandon me as well. After all we’ve been through. After the night we spent together. Surely we can brave even this side by side Dev's note: Solemn. Full of yearning, his news will not lead to him being abandoned by the player. 

Gale: Loyalty is such a… such a very rare commodity. Dev's note: The reference to loyalty foreshadows Mystra leaving him. 

So far in EA, we can see that Gale checks some behavioural consequences of this fear: he is always eager to please, approaching Tav with courtesy and jovial manners, only displaying his most acidic side to a Tav whose actions are evil. In that case, Gale cares little if Tav leaves him. With the Loss scene we can see that it is hard for him to give his trust to others, pushing them away because they would not understand the grave mistake he made. His trust demands constant progression from the Stew scene, to the Weave, to the Loss scene. If he is romanced, he asks several times if Tav is thinking of the Weave moment. When Tav asks him this question, Gale will deflect, always asking back to have Tav’s answer first before giving his: it could be interpreted as Gale looking for constant reassurance in the blooming relationship. 

However, in my opinion, the best situation that shows his abandonment issues is during our meeting with Gandrel. Gale disapproves of handing over Astarion, by telling Tav about an anecdote of a dog turning old and mean: how his friend got rid of the animal just because it was an inconvenience. This is very curious since Gale's mistrust for Astarion is not a secret: he stated many times that Astarion is a danger to the group, and his wickedness causes him to strongly dislike him. The reason for this is quite obvious if we see both lists of approvals: mostly what one approves the other disapproves. Despite all this, Gale strongly judges Tav for handing Astarion over, and his disapproval for doing it shows that Gale is not lying on the matter: the meta-knowledge is trustworthy information. 

This can be understood better when Tav defends Astarion against Gandrel: Gale approves twice of defending him. If Astarion is not in the group when meeting the monster hunter, the first approval happens when Tav recognises that Astarion is part of their companions/friends (therefore, Tav is showing care for their group). The second approval happens when Tav reinforces their loyalty to Astarion insisting that they won’t give his location (this is a clear display of loyalty that Gale acknowledges as rare. See the post of "Gale Hypotheses- Part 2", section: "Proposition to Cheat" for more details). Although Gale will explicitly question this decision, he secretly approved it (the approvals we saw are meta-knowledge: only the player sees them). Considering the undeniable context that Gale deeply dislikes Astarion, we may interpret this as Gale seeing in Tav a loyal person who will not abandon someone they care for, even if that person endangers them. Loyalty is something that resounds deeply in Gale due to his abandonment issues. 

 Another detail on this matter can be seen during the party. If Tav arranges spending the night with a companion and then asks (non-romanced) Gale the same, he will answer:

Gale: You are all too quick to abandon the one you promised yourself to. It’s not a quality I admire.

This line shows that first, Gale is not interested in casual sex; he needs the connection that the Weave provides and Tav’s explicit, previous romantic interest in it. Second, when Gale is romanced but Tav sleeps with someone else, Gale will not interfere in that affair, but he may not like it (due to his, I suppose, jealous comment since he doesn’t display an approval penalty for this). However, he seems to equate loyalty with commitment, understanding that affair as a fling but believing he still holds the romantic interest of Tav, hence his proposition the next day. More details in the post of "Gale Hypotheses- Part 2", section: "Proposition to Cheat".

---------

Sources for both parts:

Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders ( 5V)

Some concepts were summarised from: https://melcrowecounsellor.com www.d2l.org/child-grooming-signs-behavior-awareness/

This post was written in June 2021. → For more Gale: Analysis Series Index

[byrachel]

JACOB BLACK CURSED FATE

Word count: 2512

Summary: In an attempt to fix their relationship, everything falls apart

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, emotional cheating, jealousy, unhealthy relationship

note: Thank you @tyb1 for giving me an amazing idea to experiment with. This was also loosely inspired by this imagine by @imaginingmanyfandoms (with their permission!) Please check both of them out!

You swatted away the lingering fly, which had been testing your patience the whole day, from the freshly set table. You didn’t want anything ruining your mood that day and if you had the same accuracy your boyfriend had when it came to killing flies, it would’ve been smashed against one of your counters the second you had seen it flying around. Losing the buzzing creature from your sight, you stepped away from your kitchen table to take in the view. Perfect, you thought with a satisfied smile, quietly praising yourself. 

After months of barely seeing your boyfriend and living with each other like you were roommates, you found it was time to find that spark you once felt by having his favorite meal and desert. You wanted to create a comfortable scenery to discuss your concerns with Jacob and was more than positive about the outcome. He was always willing to listen and  work on himself together with you when it came to problems you were having. 

With a lighthearted sigh you grabbed your phone from the edge of the table. Your notification centre showed a few unimportant emails waiting to be deleted from your inbox, instead of the text you were waiting for. You looked at the time above the notifications. 7:23 pm. He wasn’t supposed to be home for a while and him not responding to your texts probably meant patrolling just took longer. You pushed down that icky feeling at the pit of your stomach and decided to dress up with the time you still had. You didn’t want to wear anything over the top in your own kitchen, but something cute enough for Jacob to see you were trying to look nice for him.

Taking your time to take a shower, do your hair and put together an outfit you were pleased with, you were expecting Jacob to walk into your home at any given moment then, but even when you returned to the kitchen there was still no sign of him. This time you looked up at the analog clock hanging from one of your kitchen walls. 8:41 pm. 

With a forced smile you tried to contain the excitement you had been feeling the whole day as you got a pack of lucifers to light the candle in the middle of the table. Once the candle held onto the flame, you looked over your shoulder at the food on the stove while you waved with the lucifer in your hand, before it had the chance to burn all the way down to your fingers. You wanted Jacob to come home to a prepared plate but the moment you heard the fly buzzing around your living room you stopped yourself. You weren’t in the mood to keep that thing away from the food so you were just going to wait until he got home. 

You sat down at the kitchen table, grabbing your phone once again. Maybe he responded. Lightly tapping your screen, your notification centre popped up, but there still was no text. Out of curiosity you checked your messages, going into your conversation with Jacob. 

‘You still going to be home by 8:30?’

You sighed looking at the delivered stamp underneath your text, but decided to give him more time. He was barely ten minutes late and it wasn’t unusual with the recent supernatural activity in the area so you just had to keep your excitement at bay a little longer. 

Time ticked by slowly, ten minutes turning into thirty, half an hour turning into an hour as you impatiently bounced on your legs, soft thumbs filling the silent kitchen. You were leaning against the kitchen counter, looking down at the game on your phone to kill time, but with each passing second your worries were starting to grow excessively.

When the clock hit 10:30 pm you decided to call him, the phone icon next to his caller id waiting to be pressed by your hovering thumb. But before you could put your phone up to your ear, your call went straight to his voicemail. Your heart jumped, your sudden rising heartbeat ringing in your ears from worry.

His phone has never been turned off before. Why is his phone turned off? 

You exhaled audibly, automatically going to your contacts to find Quil’s number while you nibbled on your thumbnail. If your memory didn’t do you wrong, you were almost certain they were patrolling together. He would know where Jacob was. Again, you tapped on the phone icon as your hand rested against your neck, feeling your rapid heartbeat. 

You looked up at the ceiling, briefly closing your eyes as you forced yourself to stay calm. In and out, you told yourself, inhaling and exhaling deeply to keep yourself from having gruesome intrusive thoughts of things that could’ve gone wrong while you impatiently waited for your boyfriend’s best friend to pick up his phone.

“Hey, (Y/N). What’s up?” Quil’s neutral voice sent you into relaxation, your eyes shooting open and bending your head back down to its original state. His calm tone was enough to let you know nothing happened on their patrol. 

“Hey, Quil.” Your voice was slightly shaken up from the brief panic, but hoping he wouldn’t notice you tried to make it less obvious. “I’m looking for Jake, is he with you?”

“Not anymore.” He answered. “Lin called him earlier. I’m guessing something happened, because Jake left right after, but he didn’t say what though.” 

Lin. Of course he was with Lin. 

The itch you were trying to keep down suddenly became uncontrollable. The anger, resentment and hurt you thought you had pushed down months ago bubbled up without a warning, making you bite your tongue to keep your composure towards Quil. As far as you knew he didn’t know about the arguments and fights she had caused in your relationship, how many times you threatened to leave Jacob because of her presence and how many nights you had banned Jacob from your bedroom so you could silently cry into your pillow, knowing he was listening to the pathetic muffled sobs from the couch in the living room. 

“(Y/N)?” A different voice called out from the living room as you heard the click of the closing front door. “I’m home.” 

“Thanks, Quil.” You said, snapping out of your silent rage, remembering your boyfriend’s best friend was at the other side of the line. “He actually just came home.” 

“Anytime.” Quil responded unknowing of what he had just caused, before you exchanged goodbyes with him and hung up the phone. You slowly placed it back down on the table and shook your head in disbelief, pushing yourself away from the kitchen counter to meet Jacob in the living room.

“Hey, what did you make?” Your clueless boyfriend commented, briefly turning his head over his shoulder to watch you stand in the kitchen’s doorway, his back turned to you as he put his jacket away. “It smells good.” 

“Where were you, Jacob?” Your voice was icingly calm as you ignored his question, his name feeling foreign in your mouth. It was always Jake, not Jacob so using his full name for the first time in months made sure he knew how badly he had fucked up. You knew where he had been and that simple question was enough to let him know there was no use in lying. 

It was like he freezed up for a split second before he turned to face you, looking like a deer caught in headlights. You didn’t know why you were even giving him the room to answer, there was no way he could talk himself out of this. His mouth was agape, his lips moving slightly but there were no words coming out. 

“Spit it out. Where were you?” You repeated, your voice slightly raising this time. 

“Babe, I can explain--” 

“Explain?” You interrupted him as a humourless chuckle fell from your lips. You softly pinched the skin between your eyebrows, your eyes fluttering closed. Your patience was thin, your head full of different voices telling you what to do in your rage, but you weren’t sure what voice to give in to. “Explain what? That you basically ditched me to be with Lin when I explicitly told you I wanted to have one night, just one night, to have your undivided attention.” 

 “I know I messed up, but you know I wouldn’t do it without a well enough reason.” Jake sounded distraught and without looking up you could tell he was panicking. “Just hear me out, okay?”

You pulled your hand away from your face, opening your eyes to look at the man who was suddenly standing much closer than he was before in an attempt to close the space between you. If he came any closer you were sure you would’ve backed away, but he knew better than to try to touch you when you were livid. It was a mistake he made before, but surely wouldn’t do again. 

“She needed someone to talk to.” He started off, making you scoff. It was something you heard a dozen times before. “This is the first time she has been without her daughter for this long and it’s just hard on her.” 

“It still surprises me you don’t see what she’s doing. She has enough friends to call. She’s using you, Jacob. Using you.” You narrowed your eyes in disbelief and used your hands to emphasize your point. “She only has to breathe differently and you’re there, she just likes the attention you’re giving her, because no one else will.” 

“I don’t think she’s using me.” Jacob disagreed with a sigh. “But I also know you wouldn’t get me giving into it. As much I know you hate it, I have to be there for her, (Y/N). We’ve talked about the imprinting, it’s not a choice.” 

Was he seriously defending what she was doing? 

“And we’ve also talked about boundaries.” You snarled back at him. “You can be there for her without ignoring our relationship. You promised me we would come first no matter who your imprint was going to be.”

He nodded in agreement. “And we still come first, but like I said I also have to be there for her when she needs me. She might not be my top priority, but I can’t ignore Lin’s needs either, that’s just the bond.” 

“Just the bond.” You repeated with a chuckle, your eyes prickling with tears as the sudden realization seeped in. 

Nothing was more important to him than that damned forced bond and the longer you listened to him the clearer it became. You hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but looking back you couldn’t believe how stupid you were for believing the words of a man who hadn’t experienced something so intense before. ‘I don’t care who she is, you’re the one for me’ was what he said when you finally communicated your worries weeks after he had imprinted on her. You wished you had listened to the insecurity lingering at the back of your head when you had seen the relationships between Sam and Emily, Jared and Kim and every other pack member who had ended up with their imprint.

Why would I be naïve enough to think it would be any different for Jacob when he finally imprinted on someone? 

“Baby, don’t cry.” He finally tried to narrow the space between your bodies to comfort you, but as you snapped out of your thoughts you flinched away from him. His comfort was the last thing you wanted.

Just then his words registered and you noticed the tears staining your cheeks. You quickly wiped them away with the back of your hand. “You don’t even see you’re in love with her, do you?” You looked up at his pained expression. You might don’t like being touched when you were mad, but you had never backed away from him when you were crying before.

“I’m not, I swear.” He answered hurriedly.

“You’re lying to yourself.” You shook your head, wiping your nose with your hand. “You dropped everything to be there for her when I needed you here. Again.”

Without waiting for a response, you were headed to your shared bedroom, Jacob’s footsteps closely behind you. You wanted to get away from him as far as possible, there was no way you were staying in the same house together. You didn’t feel like suffocating on your own again.

“Baby, (Y/N).” Jacob called out to you, hopelessly following you as you marched into your shared bedroom, diving straight into your closet to grab a suitcase. “What are you doing?”

You placed it on the bed, zipping it open as the tears falling from your eyes blurred your sight. When you turned back to your closet to grab a bunch of clothes, not even thinking of all the things you actually needed if you were going to stay away for a while, Jacob finally managed to get his hands on you. He held your wrists, not tight enough to hurt you, but with just enough force to keep you from moving. “Hey, don’t go, okay? Please. I want to fix this.” 

“How? It’s not a choice, remember?” You avoided his gaze, looking down at the floor. Your body was trembling from the anxiety and all the mixed emotions coming out were making you sick to your stomach. You truly felt like throwing up.  “How did you even want to start a family with me if I can’t even be your first choice, hm? I’m not putting my child through that.”

“(Y/N), don’t tell me. . .” Jacob’s eyes widened. When you told him you wanted to talk this morning he could tell you were excited, but he brushed it off like the idiot he was. All the signs were there and when it fell silent for a moment, he finally understood why tonight was so important to you.

 “I’m pregnant.” You felt your arms slipping from his grip as you looked up at his blank expression. You pulled your hands away to dry the tears dripping from your face. “And I wanted to do things differently for our baby than our parents did, I wanted them to grow up with both of us there.”

“And they will.” His glinstering eyes and watery smile stared at you as he brought his hands up to your cheeks, softly caressing the sides of your face with his thumbs and placing his forehead against yours. You let him.  “Just let me fix this. I’ll do anything for you-- both of you.”

As much as you wanted to believe what he said, you knew it was only a matter of time before he went running to Lin when she needed him again. He could treat you badly all he wanted, but you refused to let your child grow up feeling unwanted the way you did. 

“No.” You whispered back to him, pulling your face away from his grip. “I’m done.” 

masterlist | not edited 

note: If you can’t tell I’m bad at endings and writing angst, but I hope you enjoyed it either way. Please let me know what you think so I know how I could improve or if you liked it!

[cinnamonest]

Makoto Naegi (DR) - Yandere Profile

Me? Producing non-genshin profiles? Releasing two profiles in one day? It’s more likely than you think!

I’ll probably do my boi Hajime eventually too. I got several dangan requests so I’m gonna start with this one and do those gradually too.

Makoto is the perfect classic, traditional yandere. He fits every trope and aspect of the archetype so well, so I just had to make him a delusional, split persona type. It's a bit ooc of course but I just see him being that type to really snap and have a whole new persona underneath. Bless him. I love soft sweet boys and turning them into nasty lil obsessive gremlins. Also I couldn't decide on a setting/version of him, so I talk mostly about a normal Makoto in normal school life, but also what he'd be like during the killing game as well as a side of Mastermind Makoto bc I'm a sucker for mastermind AUs. Note, he's 18 or older in all of these, of course.

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Tws: stalking, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, nsfw mentions, mentions of permanent mutilation, voyeurism Tws: (below cut) - voyeurism mention, noncon, Makoto being awful Additional warnings: very minor spoilers for Danganronpa 1

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What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

Bounces between lucidity and delusion. DR1 Makoto is probably largely influenced by the stress of, you know, threat of imminent death, but even outside of such a situation, he'd be a very well hidden yandere. He's just so sweet! So gentle! You can't really seem him as threatening at all, so a lot of subtle things might go unnoticed, like how touchy he can be, how his stares linger, how people seem to avoid you when he's around. However, while the yandere side isn't obvious, the crush certainly is. He's a blushing boy, will get flustered the moment you speak to him, is constantly stumbling over his words, nervously scratching the back of his head, looking all over everywhere except at you, eyes darting away.

Obsessive. It defines his yandere side. Everything is about the obsession, the worship, it's overwhelming. The desire to kidnap you is partially protective, sure, but really? He also just wants you close, he wants you all to himself, he could just be happy looking at you forever. Stalker for sure. He's a classic style stalker, one to take lots and lots of pictures. His phone is handy for the ones that need more of a... secretive approach, but for the ones that he can take safely, from a distance, or the ones of you sleeping, they look best in polaroids.

He would definitely be one to steal things, particularly clothes. Wait until you go to do your laundry, and when you're there he'll do something like pull the fire alarm, cause something to fall over, and wait for everyone else to leave or investigate before slipping in - surely you won't notice just a few pieces of clothes missing, right? Just some gym clothes you worked out in, they smell so much like you, and some underwear you won't miss. They're just cute is all. Not for any perverted purposes, nope. He'd have a shrine, too. He'd steal creepy shit like soda cans you threw away, pens you held. He'd use his phone or one of those cameras from the mono machine to get as many photos as possible, running over them late at night, going through each one and rubbing one out to every photo he can get of your soft, innocent expression.

Deceptively intelligent. It's his number one trick. He comes off as a very... average person in pretty much every way, it's literally his character trope at first, but as we know, he's actually particularly intelligent and perceptive. Most people don't realize this, though, and it gives him an advantage. He is aware that he's perceived as a bit of an innocent, naive airhead, and will utilize that perception, which allows him to get away with quite a bit by feigning ignorance or innocence.

A split personality bouncer. Classic yandere style. Sweet, innocent, happy, but if you just keep fucking pushing the limits he'll - no, forget that, it's ok, he understands :)  ....THAT kind of yandere. He spends the majority of the time on the sweet side, but, especially as time goes on, can easily snap to a much meaner, darker persona, but it's not how he is the majority of the time. It's only brought out by excess stress from all of the... complication of things involving you.

Speaking of how he has all the makings of a classic yandere, delusional regarding love as well. Highly convinced that you'll love him eventually, convinced that everyone is out to take you away from him, and convinced that he knows what's best for you. Perhaps a bit surprisingly, he falls into this delusion pretty easily and quickly. He's likely got a bit of an inferiority complex given, you know, being the "normal" person among some of the best people in their fields. He likes the idea of anything that can give him a sense of importance, of value, of being needed, and he chooses to project that into your protection.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

Normal schoolboy Makoto, well, he'd have to find a way. He wants to, really, the moment he meets you, but how can he do that? He lives in a dorm. If you went missing, surely they'd investigate the dorms right? He'd ultimately probably end up running away with you, finding some way to get by while he keeps you safely locked up in some tiny apartment somewhere.

As for the how, he would take a very traditional method. Ask you to meet him at a certain place and time behind the school, and you'll never see it coming, be it chloroform or a blunt object or whatever he chooses. You wouldn't suspect someone as sweet as him to ever be planning anything of the sort. He feels bad for hurting you, but it's for a greater purpose. Within minutes he'll have you stuffed in a sports bag or instrument case or something of the like, carrying you off, and no one will no where you could have gone.

Will definitely be that one that gets interviewed by the news on TV, the best friend of the poor girl that went missing, and he's all sniffly and teary while talking about how much he misses you, how he's so worried about you. He's actually a very good actor when he really, really needs to be. It's also his way of atonement, in a sense. If he can show how much he cares about you, even if it's in a situation where he's lying, it makes him feel better.

DR1 Makoto, well, he'll be virtually immediate. Don't you understand the gravity of the situation? You could DIE! He can't let that happen. You may be insistent that it's ok, that you want to all try and work together, but in his mind, you just don't understand how serious this all is. You're just too naive. The only solution is immediate action. He'll be gentle about it, probably lacing your tea or coffee with something he found laying around in the nurse's office to make you just a little bit sleepy, so dazed you won't even realize he's guiding you back to a room that isn't yours, won't even hear yourself being tied up.

If the others ask what happened to you, well, he'll say he has no idea. They'll likely assume you're simply dead. After all, if a body isn't discovered, how would there be a trial? They search and search but no one ever finds a body. How strange.

He might simply tell them you're paranoid and holed up in your room. It's ok, though, you trust him to bring you food, so they don't need to worry about you. As for the trials, well, you can't participate in those if you're unconscious, now can you?

As for MM! Makoto, well... Who's to say this isn't his way of kidnapping you? You're separated from that awful awful outside world. That's The whole point of it all, all of this was for you. To isolate you, and the game is simply to strike some fear in you, make you understand how evil and traitorous humans are. You'll never want to leave. And of course, he intends to play until there are two students left. Unfortunately for the others, the winners have already been... predetermined.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape? 

Unfortunately for you, Makoto is one of those yans that is perfectly ok with your life consisting of being tied, 24/7, in one place. He'd keep you restrained at all times, with something soft of course! He doesn't want to hurt you, but it's for your own safety.

DR1 Makoto would constantly be coming back to the room to check on you, make sure you haven't left, make sure you're ok. He'd neglect all of his free time opportunities to talk to others and opt to come be with you instead.

Normal Makoto would invest in some special security measures, namely, a very special shock collar that he bought off of some sketchy site. It's made for humans! It has a lock with a code and everything. You honestly wonder why there's even a market for such a thing. It's not just light shocks, no, it has settings. It syncs to his phone, with a built in remote app, one he can push and it'll give you a nice shock of whatever level he sets it at.

However, the collar is also synched to a field of range that it will detect your location in. It's set perfectly to the boundaries of your little home. If you were to step outside the door or the window... Well, it's not going to kill you, but you'll be out cold, and he'll get a notification telling him you tried to leave. The first time, maybe, you can calm him down and convince him it was an accident, you tripped and crashed against the door and it just ever so lightly pushed you over the boundary. He'll believe it... Once.

Unfortunately, he's also one of the ones who sees no issue in permanent bodily modifications to deter you from leaving. He's not like some of the previous yans I've discussed, though, because it's not out of sadism or a lack of care for your feelings, it's a delusion thing. He'll be so sweet about it, reassure you that it's ok, it's for your own good, you're too precious and innocent and the outside world will hurt you, but this way you're safe from yourself and your own naivete. He'll be so, so careful and take such good care of you, he'll give you something strong so that you don't feel any pain at all.

He's also perfectly fine with you living in a constant drugged state, out of your mind, drowsy and completely unaware of anything in the world except him. And things are better that way - really, you can't say you're not happy, you seem so content like this. You don't complain, you don't get angry, you just giggle and smile and loll your head back and forth. You don't fight him. You just smile.

In other words, regarding escape, you might as well give up. Your only real chance is being rescued by someone else, someone who might just notice his increasingly odd behaviors, but if they believe you're dead, which he will go to great lengths to ensure you do, it's unlikely to happen. Any attempts will just be met with a sweet smile, a little laugh at how dumb you are to think that would really work, and quickly taking you back, where his demeanor might get significantly angrier once he can really let loose.

MM! Makoto is an equally unrealistic chance, the worst of all, really. It's just not happening. He'll also likely convince you, much like as the DR1 and V3 did, that the world outside is nearly destroyed, or somehow unlivable, that you're lucky to be here, and that this is the only place where you're safe. 

If you try, he'll crack down on however the hell you managed to escape because... how would you even go about that? I mean, the whole environment was designed to be inescapable, and if a whole class of students couldn't find a way out, it's unlikely you will either. Any attempts will likely be dumb and unsuccessful enough that he can't even get mad, it's just amusing.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

Oh, easy. We see in Chapter one of DR1 just how easily he will bend to the will of a girl he likes and nearly end up getting himself falsely accused of murder and all, so safe to say he's pretty easily manipulatable and if you're looking to survive, you can use that to your advantage. However, really, you're better off manipulating him into being a meatshield - he'll guard you 24/7 and be more than willing to die. Poor baby. 

However, if he catches onto manipulation once, and it doesn't involve your safety, he'll learn pretty quick. Deep down he's a highly intelligent young man, and you may find the tables turning pretty quickly - he can easily manipulate your paranoia and mortal fear, convincing you that if you just stay with him, you'll be safe, convincing you that everyone else is out to get you, convincing you that this or that person is plotting to kill you. He's so sweet and innocent looking, you'll believe every word.

Bonus: If he were the mastermind, he'd be so deceitful and do it so well, you'd never know. An excellent actor through and through. In a way, it's not acting at all - he loves you and wants you to be safe. This is all so that you'll just understand that you need to be kept away from the outside world - you're actually perfectly safe, he's taken measures to ensure that, but you'd have no way of knowing. Even if you feel like those cameras in the rooms at night almost seem like they're staring right at you.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

Very few. He'll baby you and prevent you from doing most things for yourself. He'll be one to try and keep you entertained, though, most likely get you some kind of tablet or laptop you can use to write, let you play all of his games, let you watch anything, and get you any kind of materials for any hobbies you have, provided he's deemed it non-dangerous. So, given all of that, you don't need to do anything else, right? He'll see anything more as just you pushing your limits, because you're trying to be difficult again. Complaints go in one ear and out the other.

DR1 would be the worst Makoto to have, because he can't provide you with much, and can't lock you in from the outside... so, his primary go-to is gonna be keeping you completely restrained all the time. Don't worry, though, he assures you that once you guys get out of here, he'll take you away to a much nicer place with much more to do! But for now, you'll be getting very acquainted with his ceiling, left with nothing to do but stare up at it. He'll try to be around as much as he can though, and won't leave you for too long, only leaving when necessary. And for the trials you'll just... have a little nap, so it'll feel like no time really passed at all.

Ironically, MM! Makoto gives you the most leniency. He'll make sure anything dangerous is taken away, but then, he'll let you roam the abandoned, hollow shell of the school, whenever he has to work on something, which isn't too often. Of course, this is partially because he's got an eye on you via cameras every waking moment, so really, you feel his presence even when he isn't there.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

For a normal Makoto, he'd be one to give you a "schedule" to help you adjust. He doesn't want you getting depressed and laying in bed all day, it's bad for your health! He wants you happy and lively and that way you can have more fun together! He'll give you a list of very simple tasks to complete throughout the day. If you don't do them, that's ok, you can do them together when he comes back, but they will get done. Other than that, of course, no running away, no attacking him, and you know, just try to be a bit grateful and nice.

If you make him mad enough, he needs time to cool down, and he presumes you do, too. He's one to pull psychological things -- locking you in a dark, dark room with no light or sound for a long enough time, all alone, ignoring your cries and whimpers until he knows you've learned. But once you have, and if he sees the results have turned out as expected, he'll be sweet and affectionate when he takes you out, and tell you he's glad you see things his way now.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

Normal Makoto, once again, we have a very classic yandere trope. He's delusional and in love and anyone who gets in the way will suffer. He's, again, very deceptively intelligent, and he can easily commit a murder, even a string of murders, that no one would ever be able to put together, and certainly that no one would ever suspect someone like him of committing. You could say it's like a talent of his. He has no guilt or remorse, either, and no value for the lives of people who are his enemies.

DR1 Makoto, He's limited to two people, unfortunately. If he had it his way, he would kill them all. But still, that's enough to win. He'll bide his time, setting things up so that hopefully, the more intelligent students get eliminated early. He has masterful ways of pulling strings here and there, planting ideas in people's heads, off handed comments that might just inspire a killing. Once there's only idiots left, well, once two of them go missing, in the most elaborate, confusing murders in the game thus far, they'll never figure it out. 

Of course, he'll certainly find a way around the rules. He'll force the mastermind to have no choice but to let you both live. Injured students can't participate in trials if they're out cold, no? So if you have some minor bone breakage, get drugged conveniently before a trial begins, you can't participate. And if you didn't participate, it would really be upsetting to everyone watching if Monokuma killed off a student who couldn't even partake in the trial. After all, they might have been able to turn it around! So really, the mastermind has to let you both live.

Or maybe, he'll convince you to do it with him. Force the weapon into your hand, force it down on the poor poor victim, holding your hand in his. Monokuma can't prove you weren't putting some exertion into it, that it was all his force. Therefore, really, you both killed them. Therefore, the trial is against you both. Therefore... He can get rid of everyone in the way, all at once, with only one left to go - the person behind that bear. And he will find a way - you'd be foolish to underestimate his capabilities. After all, you always thought he was just a lil empty headed guy, shy and flustered, and look how wrong that was.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

In the "developing stages" of obsession, not so much. He's generally a sweet, easy-going guy, even a little bit of a doormat if we're being honest.

Normally, he gets pouty-mad, not violent-mad. Almost what some might call a girl-sort-of-mad, the kind where he huffs and pouts and pretends to ignore you. It's either kinda cute or infuriating, depending on your mood or how you view it. In that state, all you have to do is give him what he wants, of summon a quick apology, and he'll bounce back to normal and loving and affectionate nearly immediately. It's part of an immature streak he has.

He has his snap moments, and will snarl and growl at you with the most furious expression for just a mere moment -- but he snaps back to sweet and soft as quickly as he changed the first time. It's a little bit of mental whiplash for you, really. You almost feel like you imagined it. In those moments, though, he may just for those few instants get a little violent.

If he's truly furious, he gets quiet. It's a little terrifying, really, you know something is coming, and it's not pleasant. He'll likely just grab you and slowly, tortuously drag you to whatever he has planned. He'll give you a very grim, cold expression, and coldly tell you this is what you deserve, and if that's locking you up, he'll tell you you can come back out when you're ready to behave.

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

Above. He's a worshipper. He can't even believe he gets to be in your presence, even look at you, he's unworthy and it's all so overwhelming.

It... Gets annoying pretty quickly, actually. He's not gonna sit around and degrade himself all that much unlike SOME certain lucky students cough cough, but he'll constantly grovel and remind you how perfect you are. He's not good enough for you, he doesn't deserve you... a bit ironic to hear, since that certainly didn't seem to stop him from taking you away against your will, but there's a lot of hypocrisies that don't really line up with Makoto. 

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

Highly so, but also deluded into thinking you do pretty easily. Even if you're screaming and yelling, he just thinks you're having a bad day, throwing a tantrum. He thinks you do love him, if you're in the later stages of things. Anything that conflicts with this delusion is explainable otherwise, usually the default being that, as usual, you're just being difficult, but that's ok -- he really loves you anyway.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Ironically, what makes him unique compared to my other yanderes is that he's more fitting for the traditional yandere type - a very cute-faced, psycho sweetheart type. He's highly prone to the classic yandere tropes and attitudes, as well as the mental and emotional instability traditionally associated with yanderes - smiling no matter what, even as he does awful things, but also snapping to a dark, angry state over the smallest things.

Guilt tripping. It's his specialty. He's so cute, so sweet, you wouldn't want to make him cry and make him sad... Would you? You're not that cruel, are you? You wouldn't throw away everything he's done for you and leave him all alone with no one... Right? He'll easily manipulate you this way, it's his specialty.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

The thing about those soft sweet boys that are just so innocent? Half the time they're the nastiest, horniest little pervs there are. He's sweet, he'll help you with everything you need! You're struggling to reach that shelf so he'll just put his hands on your hips and squeeze you and lift you up! But he'll stumble a bit, and when you come down you'll kinda land on him just a bit, chest pressed up against his face, and you'll be the one embarrassed - but it's ok. He says he knows you didn't mean to. And he's so sheepish and embarrassed about it himself, clearly it must have been unintentional.

And he's so innocent and kind, you know he doesn't mean to be so touchy, doesn't mean to cling to you so much, so you can brush it off. After all, he's just so nice, you wouldn't want to offend him.

Will jerk off on every single thing he has of you. Every little polaroid, every article of clothing he's stolen, every little thing. It's gross. He's gross. By the time you're kidnapped you might even find some of your clothes that went missing, and they're hard as a rock. Ew.

Like a lot of yans, will get significantly bolder once he has you all to himself. Much more touchy, much more suggestive, boldly, openly horny and just, constantly begging you to just fuck already, whining and even rutting into you if you're still in denial.

MM! Makoto will also 100% watch you get undressed through the cameras every night. Save the video feed and just watch it over and over again, taking in every little detail. Cum all over each little video, watching it drip down the screen. He can almost pretend it's actually dripping down your face, and not just the image of it.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

I... within the first hour of your confinement you're gonna know what this boy's dick feels like. He has no restraint. He just loves you so much! Hell, you might even wake up to him just, grinding into you, jerking off to you. You're just so pretty. You can't expect him to be too restrained, you know? He's so overcome by love for you that he can't help it.

High-level delusional. Will make up every reason in the world as to why you might be rejecting. You're nervous, it's ok, he'll help you get over it. You're insecure, and he'll help you get around that too. Ultimately, in the end, you're not getting out of it, nor putting it off at all really. It'll be the first thing you do to start off your new little lifestyle.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

D/S dynamic

Except... in a really weird way. It's the sub without the dom. Or not really submissive at all. It's a very bizarre dynamic you'll have going on - the way he talks to you is so submissive, so sweet, constantly asking you if you feel good, constantly whimpering and making the cutest little noises, constantly worshipping you, you'd almost forget he has you tied up and is forcing you through it. He acts submissive in his own way, and yet he's completely controlling you. In fact, you're pretty certain he wouldn't actually let you top him in any way, and any attempts to do so will be met with him denying you, telling you to just let him do what he wants take care of you. His attitude and words are submissive, yet he insists on controlling you completely. It's, again, bizarre in its own way, but what isn’t bizarre with this man.

Oral fixation

A guilty one for him, with his whole service attitude and all, because he really likes to be on the receiving end of it. Cumming down your throat is fine and all, but really he's one to pull out and cum all over your face. Bonus points if you wear lip gloss to smear all over his dick, wear glasses he can get cum on, or anything that makes it feel special.

In his rare angry, more dominant moments, he can get kind of rough with it. If he's really mad at you, hearing you choke is a rather satisfying feeling.

Paizuri/Thigh fucking/outercourse

The boy's seen too much porn. Just, pleeeeeeease let him cum on your tits. Please. He begs for it over and over, doesn't matter if you tell him yours are too big or too small, he just really wants to cum on them. He just wants to feel your smooth skin on his dick you know? Maybe he can get the tip in your mouth while you do it too!

And while you're at it... Let him fuck your thighs. Please? Just hold your legs together, not hard right? There's just something about actually seeing his dick against you that makes it so nice, and so temptingly close to your holes. But if you've agreed to it as a way of preventing actual sex, it might just... accidentally go in anyway. It was just too slippery... but now, he's already fucking you so... might as well keep doing that instead.

Cockwarming/activity-sex

Our boy likes his vidya. And you know all those jokes and references to, you know, getting sucked off under the table while he plays games....? He just... really, really would like that. It's a big fantasy for him. He's probably the type of guy to be way too into league of legends dammit and he just, would love to have to try to be quiet, try to get off down your throat while trying not to alert anyone that can hear through his mic. Or just sit on his dick, it's heavenly, he'll gradually just lost control and start losing his game, before eventually cutting it off and exiting altogether in favor of rutting up into you. He likes it, but he doesn't have a whole lot of self-control to actually do it for long before giving up and just fucking you.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

He's one of the ones that really wants it, he thinks it would be so cute, so precious, and of course the benefit of it tying you to him. He might be one to get a bit jealous, though. He likes your attention, and can be a little bit immature about it. Unfortunately, though, he's not actually aware of his own immaturity, so this can present a problem.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

(Insert "iiiiits punishment time!" joke here)

If he's in this mode, an angry mood, his demeanor for sex changes significantly. The weird pseudo sub attitude isn't really there, it's more of a quiet neutrality, a frustrated, but calculated anger that brings out the worst in him. It's honestly frightening for you in and of itself because it's such a dark expression and rough voice and so unfamiliar that it would freak you out just to see him like that.

The go-to is impact pain. In this rare-ish mood, he can actually change pretty significantly -- normally, he'd never dream of hurting you, would feel awful if he did, and would not enjoy it in any way, but now? He kinda... feels like you deserve it, and he'll undeniably get off to it a bit. Something about watching you cry and squirm really helps alleviate the anger. He'll be soft about it later, wipe away your tears and softly murmur nice things... but he won't apologize. You deserved it. If it's that bad, then you'll just have to not do it again.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

A thigh boy. Let him use your lap as a pillow, and he'll be a very happy boy indeed. He likes feeling them wrapped around his hips, or his head, likes squeezing the flesh in his hands, likes running his hands up and down.

[keilemdarkmode]

crybaby

🚫contains themes of abuse, noncon/dubcon, yandere. 🚫

all characters aged 18+

(r18+)

pro hero! hitoshi shinsou x reader 

word count: 2.4k

you cry so pretty, all for him. 

a/n: hey y’all! please don’t read if this isn’t your cup of tea!!

this is my first (posted) story with like. dark themes. finally, i am able to filthily indulge my crying kink <3333 enjoy!!

warnings: yandere, spanking, dacryphilia, kidnapping, isolation, degradation, spanking, light pet play (collars and nicknames), light non-con

||||||||||||||||| 

You were so fucking pretty when you cried.

For him, anyway.

Just him.

If anyone other than Hitoshi dared to upset you to the point of tears, they would hardly be around much longer to tell about it.

No, Hitoshi took pride— hot, ego-boosting, revolting— pride in making you hiccup and wail to the point of a migraine once your tears had settled. Fuck toeing the line of pain and pleasure, he’d shove you over its jagged edge without a thought if it got you to tears.

If he was in a particularly cruel mood, he’d keep you sobbing for hours.

It never felt long enough for him, but he prided himself on knowing what limits of yours he could safely break without breaking you. The last thing he wanted was a lifeless doll, that would defeat the entire purpose of keeping you in the first place.

There were surely thousands of other tight cunts in the world that would fall all over the famed, underground hero ‘MindBreak’, but Hitoshi didn’t want any of them. He’d had a fangirl or two strung up in his bed during his early years of professional hero work, but it was always lackluster. Too many clawing, exaggerated moans and needy cuddling for his liking. He’d rather beat one out alone than pretend he enjoyed indulging a girl’s selfish fantasy.

Hitoshi had given up on ever finding a partner who would suit him just right.

Until he met you, of course.

...

A hostage situation, easily diffused with a handful of words in the twilight of a closing luxury shop, expensive purses and watches lining the walls.

It was far too simple for Hitoshi to bait the villains that dared to put you in harm's way.

When he first saw your tear-flushed cheeks, the barrel of a villain's handgun to your temple, Hitoshi knew he was beyond fucked.

His cock shouldn’t have twitched at the sight, yet it did. He was sporting a half-chub the entire mission, endlessly glad that his costume was baggy enough to hide it and that his voice modulator covered his hot, shamed cheeks.

When Hitoshi finally got to you, carefully checking you over for bumps and bruises, he let his hands linger. Any potential self-imposed disgust that bubbled in his throat died the second he felt your skin against his own.

He was hooked.

You thanked him, tearfully, over and over as he walked you to a waiting ambulance, rubbing at your eyes with the backs of your wrists. Hitoshi kept a firm hand on your lower back, quietly reassuring you that you were ‘safe, alright, protected—’

The last word might’ve been a bit much for a pro-hero to a civilian, but you were too busy sobbing to notice.

...

Hitoshi had to be subtle at first.

Showing up at your work, always bearing a coffee and a smile, talking to you like an old friend and not a near-stranger who kept too many tabs on you. You didn’t know about his behavior and Hitoshi was convinced you wouldn’t care either. You always grinned so sweetly from behind the counter, sipping the beverages he always treated you to.

Blissfully ignorant.

You were sweet, far-too innocent to notice how Hitoshi pushed and pulled you into the undertow of his fucked-up desires.

Maybe he was first disgusted with himself, for a small while, but he was quick to rationalize, easily mushing and tugging his own mind into a lull of lust and instinctual compliance.

You needed him, it was obvious. You needed a sweet man to kiss and blot your pretty tears away, keep you safe from the horrors of the world while he did so.

Hitoshi was happy to provide.

...

You fought him, of course, when he first brought you home.

He was careful not to push you in the beginning, letting you sputter and beg your lips dry and eyes red before even thinking about reacting. The kitten-kicks and punches you landed phase him in the slightest.

Hitoshi wasn’t delusional enough to think you wouldn’t need time to adjust to your new existence.

But, truly, giving you constantly neutral expressions hurt him too.

He wanted to scoop you up, kiss your pains away and keep you safe, like he knew he would. But, Hitoshi wasn’t an idiot. If he pushed you, there was no chance you’d ever trust him.

He had to be patient.

Hitoshi also knew that he should only use pain if he needed to. No need to punish your tears that he loved so, so much. It was only when you acted out that he ever would use force.

...

Such as the time you’d tried to pry off the pretty collar Hitoshi had made for you.

Sleek, black leather, a few o-rings, silver hardware and even a damn bell. The whole thing was even studier than it looked, a thin band of metal running between the layers of fabric, making it more than industrial grade. The last thing Hitoshi wanted was to snap the pretty present he'd even you— not to mention it had to stand up to the heavy links of chain that tethered you to the headboard of your silk-covered king-size bed.

See, he was even nice enough to let you have your own room while you settled.

Though you chose to spit on that kindness quickly.

He’d walked in to give you breakfast—  a warm, home-cooked meal, your favorite, when he found you, bloodied at the neck, as you had slipped a fork (you must’ve saved it from dinner the night prior) between the unyielding collar and the fragile, weak skin of your throat. Tears spilled down your chin and cheeks, frustration and rage so clear in your eyes.

Hitoshi had never truly been upset with you until then.

He felt his own face fall.

When you finally noticed him at the unbolted door, you chucked the bloody fork at him.

You missed by a mile.

What Hitoshi didn’t miss was every strike he laid the plump flesh of your ass that day.

With every strike, Hitoshi wondered why he hadn't bent you over his knee sooner. Maybe it was his early boundaries and need for some order in his own mind.

He loved you, he didn’t want to hurt you.

But now, you fucking deserved it—

And he’d take advantage of it.

He yanked the chain attached to your pretty collar, forcing your neck and spine to curl just right as he smacked his hand down against your bare ass yet again.

“Bad kittens don’t deserve to feel good, do they?” Hitoshi asked, knowing you wouldn’t be able to reply with anything other than fat tears. You’d already soaked the sheets below. Hitoshi had particularly reveled in getting to grind your cheeks into your own mess.

Part of him was tempted to take it a step farther.

He only teased you, though. A single finger trailing from your tight hole to your clit, smearing what little slick you provided (He made a mental note to purchase lube.) Through his touch, obliviously teasing, you had shuddered for him, squirming harder, trills of pleas dripping from your bitten lips, ‘please, no, no, I’m sorry— please, Hitoshi, please, don’t— ‘

Hitoshi didn’t, as much as he wanted to watch you sob while he broke your cunt with his fat fingers.

He had to be patient.

Instead, he settled for spanking you until your ass was bruised and battered. He didn’t even try to count his strikes, rather he stopped when he ran out of ways to verbally berate you.

“If you just listened, kitten, I wouldn’t have to do this,” Hitoshi tsked, shaking his head as he slapped at your upper thighs. “If you were a good girl, I wouldn’t have to spank this cute little ass, would I?”

You squirmed, wailing into the sheets. You’d already begged yourself silly for a reprieve, but Hitoshi didn’t care. Hitoshi didn’t want an apology.

He wanted to see you weep.

He wanted to see you millimeters from shattering, preferably with your tight, silky cunt around his cock. It was a goal he aspired to reach.

But first, you needed to be trained as a proper pet.

At the end of that first punishment, Hitoshi yanked you upright by your collar, back painfully arched as you panted, shaking and writhing in his grip.

Hitoshi forced your thighs around his own, relishing the fear that continued to spill from the wrinkles and lines around your eyes.

It got even cuter when he spit on your lips, harshly slapping your cheek, though tender enough to catch your jaw as you reel.

“So, what did my sweet kitty learn?” Hitoshi asked, watching the way your glassy eyes refocused on him. The tears on your cheeks had yet to slow or stop. Hitoshi wondered if he could get you to run yourself dry.

“T-that— t-that— “ You sniffled, wrists flexing in Hitoshi’s vice grip. “Um—”

Your eyes went blank, vacant.

It hurt some part of him, though it was buried quickly.

It was necessary.

Hitoshi squeezed your cheeks in one hand, cock twitching at the feeling of your precious tears wetting his hand, “Feel that, kitten? In your head— you know what this is? Answer honestly.”

You shook your head, slow and methodically.

“It’s my quirk. You’ll do anything I say without question.” Hitoshi massaged your slack cheeks, tightening his grip on your wrists. “Anything. Do you understand?”

You nodded.

Hitoshi didn’t want to use his quirk on you— no, he wanted to make you his handiwork, not the byproduct of his feared-quirk.

Still, it was a nice safety net.

“I’m going to release you, and then you’re going to tell me what you learned.” Hitoshi already started to let you go. “And, kitten, be quick about it. I wouldn’t want to keep you bent over for much longer, especially since you’ve already made such a mess.”

The moment his hold was fully released with his last words, your eyes went wide, body going rigid.

“Bad kittens don’t get to feel good!”

You panted it out, pain and panic having stripped your already raw mind bare.

Hitoshi was nice enough to sit with you as shakily ate your cold breakfast, praising you in the same breath as calling you a ‘disobedient cunt’ and an ‘ungrateful whore’.

It was cute to see the whiplash in your eyes.

...

You got better, under Hitoshi’s training.

It just took a bit of time and coaxing.

You cried a lot after that first punishment, flinching whenever Hitoshi got within a few feet.

Hitoshi’s response to this was simple—

Get you nice and needy.

He was the only person you saw anyways, so it wasn't a hard feat.  

A few crushed up sleeping pills into your dinner left you knocked out and pliant, though Hitoshi only tucked you into bed, allowing himself to even kiss your forehead as he got to work.

He removed all of the books and drawing paper he’d given you. All of your clothes sans three distinct, uncomfortably fitting outfits were removed from your closet.

Each bit and piece of stimulation Hitoshi could find, he stole away. Even the alarm clock at your bedside.

He even took away your towels, though graciously, he left behind your toothbrush and toothpaste. Hitoshi really patted himself on the back for his grace.

He left you to awaken only with a sheet on your bed and a sweet note from him on your bed.

Kitten,

Be a good girl.

Hitoshi (Master)

...

His plan worked wonderfully.

At first, you were still reluctant to get near him. Though it hardly mattered.

Hitoshi made a point to hardly speak or spend time with you when he would drop off your meals. He didn’t linger.

Though, he did make a point to praise you a single time, each day. Just a small, insignificant ‘good girl’ with dinner just before exiting to rebolt the door to your room.

He’d always wait in the nearby hallway, pulling out his phone to check the hidden cameras that dotted your room.

Typically, you would eat quietly, then tucking into yourself in your favorite corner of the room under your single sheet for the rest of the day. Maybe Hitoshi would have felt some remorse over your shivering, scared form if he doubted himself and his methods.

It wasn’t long before you started to crack.

You’d sniffle behind the door, rubbing at your eyes from the view of the cameras.

Quickly, you went from cries to sobs, then all-out wails.

The first time you screamed, something wretched and high, Hitoshi left you to beg and plead behind the door, as much as it pained him.

As cute as your begging was, he couldn’t deviate from his methods when he was so fucking close to his goal.

With a sly, curling grin, Hitoshi felt confident that the next time he graced you with his presence, you’d be wrapped around his finger.

...

You had become so well-trained.

Perfect, like Hitoshi always knew.

You’d taken to sitting on the floor as Hitoshi busied himself with the day’s paperwork. Some program droned on in the background, just white noise for the evening.

You’d been good that day, particularly good as Hitoshi ate your cunt like it was his last meal over the arm of the couch he was now sitting on.

He couldn’t count the amount of time you wept ‘thank you’ as Hitoshi drove you into a mess of snot and sobs.

After the fanfare, your body spent and tired, he’d given you some reprieve. Your cheek rested on his knee, eyes half-lidded, shoulders relaxed.

Softened, good and proper.

All for him.

You had your slipups, notably. Mistakes were human, weren’t they? You still jumped sometimes if Hitoshi got too loud. You’d shriek if he surprised you, in jest or otherwise. Still needed a lesson drilled into you once in awhile, but overall you were a very well-trained pet for him.

“Kitten?” Hitoshi hummed, not looking up from his papers. “Up on the couch. Head on my lap.”

You sweetly climbed up, the skirt you wore riding up against your thighs. Hitoshi watched your hand twitch to cover yourself, but quickly, you stilled.

That particular lesson had been hard for him to get through your dumb little skull, but eventually, finally, you understood that Hitoshi was the one who decided how much you bared and when.

Luckily, he was more fatigued than normal. He reached out to smooth your skirt flat, squeezing your thigh as he did.

You laid on him, so pliant and soft. Hitoshi absent-mindedly played with your hair, skirting his nails against the shell of your ear, cherishing the way you shivered against him.

It was moments like this that were his favorite.

You started sniffling.

Though your head was directed towards the TV, Hitoshi knew better than to think it was the show that triggered your tears.

No, it was just circumstantial.

Hitoshi enjoyed the soft moments. No fighting, no need to bruise and hollow out your mind, just you so sweetly curled up for him like the perfect kitten you were.

The tender moments are what made you cry so hard.

You slowly dissolved into ragged breaths, fisting the fabric of his joggers and burying your face in his thigh as you wept.

Hitoshi felt his dick twitch.  

He let you do this, despite knowing why you did. He felt no guilt as you shattered with sobs against him. You needed the catharsis of it, Hitoshi knew this and wouldn’t take that away from you.

He was just so gracious.

As was so routine, he dragged you up, wide hands positioning your thighs around his own. You sagged in his hold, half-limp and half-relieved by his contact. You settled on his lap just like he taught you, tucking into his neck with your hands bunching up the front of his shirt as you wept.

Deliciously hot tears seared Hitoshi so well that his eyes rolled back into his head. Though, he kept himself appearing unaffected, sorting through his paperwork all the same, though lightly rocking and cooing to you as he did.

His fucking crybaby was right where they belonged.