My Comfort Character With An Autistic S/O

One time when I worked at the Dollar Tree a man came in with a little boy and he said to me, “This is my adopted son. He’s autistic.”

He told me this story. “When he got to be about 4 years old his mother realized he was growing up autistic and she didn’t want to raise him any more. So she drove out to the middle of nowhere and pulled over on the side of the highway and put him out of the car. On her way back in to town she was driving behind a van with a two story ladder tied on top. The ladder got loose and slid through her windshield, killing her instantly. They found her head in the backseat.”

I was like 😶 “your total is 13.95”

lmao so im completely shameless and a sucker for physical intimacy so ive been thinkin abt darling just having childe or kaeya sit on the floor while theyre in a chair and them just. slinging their legs over his shoulders as they do other work ?? they meant it as a friendly gesture to make him happy but also he might b drooling when they gently press their thighs against his head -💉

Slight NS_FT

No, because this ask has completely rotted my brain… Kaeya and Childe are such prevs they’d turn the most innocent of actions into fantasy material… little gross men </3

Warnings: Yandere, GN! reader, God! reader, talks of religion, obsessive behavior/mindset, mentions of murder/death (by thighs/legs), perv! Childe, perv! Kaeya, masochistic tendencies? (especially on Childe’s part), implied sub!character x dom!reader dynamics,

The rest of the ask is under the read more!

— Kaeya

You’d only called for Kaeya’s assistance since Lisa wasn’t around to help you like she normally would; you were in the library just looking for some books to pass time – being under constant surveillance by some of the most protective people in Teyvat often led to your activities being restricted for your “safety”.

He’d been more than happy to drop what he was doing (which honestly was him preparing to go bother Diluc for the afternoon) to come to your aid. He’d teased you a bit, joking about how much you needed him - probably to try and distract from the obvious blush in his face the longer he spent time with you - but eventually helped you find some books about Teyvat’s mythology and history, both subjects that has greatly interested you since long before arriving.

He insists you read yourself, saying something amongst the lines of “I’m too tired, but if you want - I’m more than happy to listen to you reading it for me” though you’re inclined to believe he simply wanted the chance to silently stare at you, a guess that came from the fact that current that was exactly what he was doing.

You found it weird that he didn’t seem to sit down, opting to stand tall and proud beside you, you’d insisted he take the seat beside you but he refused - that is, until you gesture to one of the pillows on the ground, one that found itself laying just between your legs and the plush chair your rested upon.

“Why don’t you sit there if you’ve got such a problem with chairs?” It was partially a joke, you didn’t think he’d rather sit on the ground than an actual chair, and a last ditch attempt to have him sit down somewhere (because heaven knows how much it stressed you out to see him just standing there on the side, didn’t his feet hurt? Wasn’t his back tired? He’d been there unmoving for at least half an hour), you didn’t think he’d silently take the seat beneath your own and sweetly smile up at you.

“Probably the best seat in the house,” he muses, looking around between your legs as his eye twinkled with admiration while he stared at your shocked expression, “come on, you invited me over - don’t tell me you didn’t mean it?”

“Haha, very funny, Sir Kaeya.” You roll your eyes, hiding your face into the book - hoping the cover would be enough to hide the embarrassed look in your face - it’s not your fault he makes you flustered.

He simply laughs, finding your newfound embarrassment amusing, and lets his head hit the edge of the cushioned seat almost touching your skin, as if afraid of defiling you with his touch - “I’m not bothering you, am I?” He asks, his eyes closed, realizing he might be taking too much space for your legs to properly rest.

“Hmm, not really,” you think, your legs were a bit cramped up from earlier, you look down upon the man sitting beneath you, “but it’s fixable.”

You test the waters and let your legs rest upon his shoulders before simply letting them drape over his upper body - he doesn’t react much, simply stiffening at the contact before slowly relaxing - “You don’t mind, do you?” You tease, ready to move your legs in case he asks you to.

“N-not at all.” He coughs into his hand and it’s your turn to be amused at his sudden shyness; did you hear it right? Had Kaeya, the Kaeya Alberich, just stuttered? You go to remove your legs, shocked at the realization, but his hands shoot up to grasp at your thighs; “Don’t! I… I mean, you don’t have to, I’m fine… unless you want to, then it’s… fine too.”

You smile slightly, but opt not to tease him too much - not when you feel him hesitantly lay his cheeks against your skin, caressing your legs with such tenderness you struggle to believe this is the same man who’d slaughtered hundreds of his people, your eyes visibly saddened at the idea.

What a troubled soul, you muse while letting your body limp against him, you remember all you’d heard about his past and lore and your heart aches and so you make a promise to yourself to try and spend more time with him.

If only you knew, that while you worried and pondered over his past - the Cavalry Captain was all but drooling over the way your legs squeezed his cheeks. You would be surprised at how hard it was to contain the moan itching to rise from his throat when he felt your legs first find his body, if he could - he’d turn around and kiss your feet, let his hands wander your sacred skin while he proclaimed how grateful he was for you and your love, but he didn’t want to ruin such a peaceful moment. All you had to do was squeeze your legs and decide to restrict his airflow with your thighs and he’d be a goner, dead - no longer alive, but he didn’t mind at all - he’d rather die at your hands (legs) than die any other way, he wants to laugh at the thought.

His heart was beating a thousand miles an hour, he could hardly contain the excitement crawling all over his body the longer his skin touched yours. It felt electrifying, a buzz stronger than even Dawn’s Winery’s finest alcohol couldn’t compare to. If anyone looked at him, they’d think he was edging himself just by the lewd look that took over his handsome features.

For now, he’d keep these thoughts to himself - simply hoping you’d been so kind as to help him later with his little problem, courtesy of your unknown effects on the Khaenri’ahn.

….

— Childe

Your time in Liyue was coming to an end, you’d soon be embarking on the Crux to visit the Raiden Shogun and her region, Inazuma, which meant the last few days had been hectic as Zhongli and other residents of Liyue attempted to make the most of your time there before you left.

You’d managed to sneak off and find yourself some time, your head was pounding and your legs ache after hours of nonstop walking, you had originally meant for it to be just yourself - a well deserved break after the last torturous days - but it doesn’t take long for the Snezhnayan diplomat, Ajax, to find you - much to your… in reality, you were too sleepy and tired to try and feel annoyed or irritated.

“Ended up running away, huh?” He laughs, making his way towards you - your figure was almost completely hidden by an oversized blanket in the cushioned chair you laid upon, “You should be more careful, you almost had Lady Ningguang send out a search party for you.”

“Mmhm?” You groan, you vaguely acknowledge his words - your body was exhausted and your mind felt like soft putty; you just wanted to sleep and not wake up for the following week or two.

“They really ran you out…” He muses, a pitiful look takes over his face as he assesses your fatigued state, “Care to make some room?”

He originally meant for you to scoot over so he could cuddle you, it was basically a death wish - if Xiao or Scaramouche found him snuggled up to your sleeping he would probably end up dead and floating in the shore of Liyue Harbor by dawn, but it seems like your position is too comfortable or you’re just too sleepy to properly consider better options and instead, you part your legs and nudge him over to sit on the floor between them.

“‘ere.” You lazily motion, before flopping your head against the plush chair once more.

He can’t even tease you, his face is red at the implications - did you have no idea how… how perverted you were making him feel? He knew you probably had no secondary or lewd intentions but you couldn’t just do that and expect him to be okay! Still - he isn’t complaining, he’d dreamed of being in between your legs (in all ways imaginable) for embarrassingly long (to the point he’s sure if Zhongli knew he’d be banned from Liyue), and he only stumbles slightly on his feet as he makes his way to lean between your legs.

“Better than any pillow Mora could buy,” he groans, letting his cheeks meet your thighs, he looks up at your face - you looked so cute, sleepy and yawning, “so nice and kind, letting me rest like this… you’ll make them jealous, you know?”

His fingers trail your skin, taking note of how delicate it felt against his worn out gloves.

You don’t acknowledge his words, your journey into unconsciousness must have been swift, only tightening your grip on his cheeks in your slumber.

“… !” He feels more blood rush to his cheeks, his eyes involuntarily roll back at the feeling of your skin on his as your legs apply a pleasurable amount of pressure against his face - fuck, he wished Zhongli would walk in, so he could rub it in his face.

His hands go to rest on your legs, almost as if begging you to stay there or squeeze him tighter - kill him, he truly wouldn’t mind going like this, but it seems he was too careless and you’re startled awake by his sudden and rough touch.

“A-Ajax? …! Are you okay I didn’t -!”

“Of course not,” he breathes, trying to hide how much he enjoyed the location and situation he found himself in, “you should rest, I’ll keep watch so they don’t bother you.”

“But don’t you want a pillow or to move somewhere more comfortable?” You ask, afraid you’d hurt him and slightly embarrassed at the predicament.

“No, it’s okay,” he laughs, never once parting his cheeks from your thighs “if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” you reassure, thinking for a second before smiling down at him, “t-thank you for keeping an eye out.”

“Now, don’t worry and rest,” he smiles, patting your legs and you take it as a sign to head back to sleep - you’d need to make the most of any shut eye you could get in the next couple of hours, “to help you like this… is my pleasure.”

And it really is.

I'M A BARBIE GIRL STUCK IN MY LITTLE ZONE SINCE 1987

this came to me in a dream, enjoy

❣ 𝘊 𝘙 𝘜 𝘚 𝘏 ❣ || 𝘞𝘶𝘬𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘟 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘖𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵

» crush (ethel cain) « 0:21 ─〇───── 3:20

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝❀╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗ AUTHOR'S NOTE ╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤╝ ➤ One day I'll decide how I wanna format shit lmao. ➤ This is a oneshot. ➤ This is romantic. ➤ Reader is gender neutral (except for one use of "maiden" in reference to you). ➤ This oneshot includes Dragonhead/Triad!Wukong, who is apart of the Triad AU belonging to @skittlescripts! ➤ This oneshot in based off @dumplingsjinson's 4th unrequited-but-not-actually-unrequited-love prompt!! I originally had it here but decided to delete it incase you'd like to go into this kinda blind lol. ➤ If this is dumb I'm sorry I haven't had a genuine crush since like 2nd grade /gen. Also romance is NOT my strongsuit despite how much I read LMAO. ➤ TRIGGER WARNINGS include profanity, denial of feelings, avoidance, lying, self-deprecation, angst, and crying. ➤ Word count: 4,297

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

❝ Camo jacket, robbing corner stores; hard odds to beat when you're on all fours .❞

You didn't want this.

You didn't want this.

It started off innocently enough—a blush when you caught the Great Sage's eye, a bit of a tremble to your voice or your knees when his hand brushed yours, squealing into your pillows when he gave you gifts. Embarrassing reactions, yes, but not surprising. Afterall, whole gods have found themselves swooning for the Monkey King even if they've a snowball's chance in hell at actually gaining his affections—what chance did your mortal self stand against the demon's wicked charm? But surely your little... celebrity crush didn't mean anything significant.

Except it did.

You barely ever had crushes growing up, much less attractions so passionate you could call them love. But with Wukong, it came far too easily. You loved the way he spoke, the way he held himself, the way he managed to create a community of loyal allies despite his many enemies. But then you also loved the simple things—his real laugh, the one that made him clutch his stomach and cackle until tears were dripping from his eyes; the way his tail swayed like a dog's and curled into a heart when he was excited; the way he smelt of peaches and flowers, as if he was a whole world just for you to—

No!

No, no, no!

This is how the greatest friendships crashed and burned. An insistent crush and a hopeful heart and a two-timing brain poisoning you with sweet what-ifs and flowery dreams is all it takes for you to make one irreversible, permanent step; for you to pour your heart out only to hear we can still be friends! and watch him drift away.

Well, not you. You weren't going to risk breaking your heart nor your and Wukong's friendship over a crush, no matter how serious. So after many sleepless nights of brainstorming (and daydreaming... goddamnit, brain!), you finally devised a plan to squash your feelings for the Monkey King.

1.) Create distance physically.

You tap your fingers against your thigh anxiously, fighting the urge to scratch angry red blotches into the skin while you wait for Wukong to pick up your call. You thought this method would be easiest for enacting Step 1, hoping Wukong and Macaque wouldn't be able to pick out any lies over the phone, but with how long it's taking him to answer, maybe it'd be easier to avoid him the hard way—

"Hey, peaches!" Wukong's cheery voice greets over the line, making you huff in relief. "What's up? You're not calling to ask if you can come up, right? Because you know I've told you you can just come, riiighttt?"

Your heart swoons ridiculously, and you have to aggressively remind yourself that hanging out with Wukong is the exact opposite of what you want to achieve.

"Yessss, I remember," you force out in a nasally, cracking voice that you pray sounds convincing. "But no, that's not why I'm calling."

"Oh, peaches, are you sick?" Wukong asks worriedly, and you can feel his furrowed eyebrows through the phone.

"No," you snark, and then you force out some rough-sounding coughs, grimacing at the way your throat stings. "This happens every year. Sometime near spring I get super sick for like a month—might be the pollen or something, I dunno."

"I never noticed," Wukong replies softly. "I'm sorry, peaches. I woulda helped you before if I'd realized."

Your heart flips again and you lean away from the phone to form a silent scream before returning. "It's—cough—fine. I'm a big girl, a little springtime bug isn't going to kill me. But it is gonna keep me in my house for a few weeks."

"In that case, why don't I let Macaque handle things for a bit and come over—"

"No!" You snap out, your hand immediately smacking over your mouth at the outburst. Fuck! You think, mind racing to recover from your fumble. You let out a series of coughs as you think, then lick your lips. "S-Sorry... while it means a lot that you'd do that for me, when I get like this... it's just easier to handle it alone. I don't really have the energy to be around people or have them around me."

You cross your fingers, your opposite hand gripping your clothes in a white-knuckle grip as a few beats of silence pass. God, let him believe me so I can hang up—

"Alright, peaches," Wukong replies softly, and you have to lean back so he won't hear the relieved huff of air you let out. You're so busy rejoicing you nearly miss what he says next. "But I'm still going to drop food off to you, alright?" Seeming to sense a coming argument from you, he adds, "I'll just drop it off at your door and send you a message."

You sigh, a small smile forcing it's way on to your face despite the situation still not being as perfect as you'd hoped for. "Guess I can't stop you, sunshine."

"Nope!" Wukong laughs, popping the p. "Get well soon! Who knows what mischief I'll be up to without my angel to keep me on the path of grace?" He cooes with a subtle purr to his words. A wild blush blooms on your face, burning your ear tips as you soak in what he said.

"You're supposed to be able to do that on your own, Great Sage," you croak out, burying your flushed face in your unused hand even though the cheeky monkey isn't here to see it.

"What's the fun in that?" Wukong snickers. Then his voice softens, squeezing your heart. "But seriously, take care of yourself, peaches. If you need space, that's fine, but if you need help, ask. There's nothing you could do that would chase me away."

What he says is sweet, so sweet, and dream-like. His words make you think of a fairytale, with you a fair maiden and him a brave, persistent, dragon-slaying knight.

But life's not a fairytale, and things won't go your way just because you wish on a star.

"Will do, Wuks," you say quietly. "Bye."

"Bye, peaches."

Beep-beep.

Step 1... achieved.

2.) Create distance emotionally.

You couldn't just get rid of your crush (well, you probably could, but that'd entail some magical mumbo jumbo you're not quite desperate enough for yet), but maybe you could weaken it by limiting how much exposure you had to Wukong. Hard, considering how popular he was, but surely not impossible!

So, to start off easy, you got rid of your merch. You were able to sell most of it online, but the more stuff you got rid of, the more... upset you felt. Which made sense, sure—it was stuff you loved, of course, and if you hadn't fallen in love with one of your best friends, you'd never part with it—, but your thoughts felt... insane. You found yourself wondering if people would take care of it, if they'd love it and find the same joy in it that you did.

The idea of someone doing anything less made your skin crawl, and for a few brief moments, you considered doing full deep dives on buyers to make sure the merch was going to a good home. Then you reasoned you sounded absolutely obnoxious, like some creepy fangirl and not a close friend of Sun Wukong, and gave the rest away without any further hesitance.

Goddamn, did it sting though.

True to his word, Wukong stopped by your house once every few days with food and medicine. At first, you were worried he'd try to talk to you or ask to come in, but the only way you even knew he'd been there was when he alerted you with a message. You were grateful for it, but words couldn't describe the relief you had that he left no gifts in the bags.

If he had, that might have set you right back to square one.

Your house felt... empty without Wukong's memorabilia, but you chopped it up to your distaste for change. Obviously the nearly crippling discomfort in your own home was because of the now-barren walls (no way it was because you'd just given away dozens of priceless items...), so you bought some pretty posters of bands, artists, and games you liked and hung them on the wall. It wasn't the same, but you supposed that within time, it'd become your new normal.

You decided to ignore the way that settles on your body like a sad cloud.

Now... for the harder part.

Aside from merch, Wukong had gotten you plenty of personal items. Clothes, jewelry, perfumes, cooking utensils you'd been eyeing, plushies, that sort of thing. You knew just by looking at it that it was expensive, probably things that would land you in debt for life if you'd bought it yourself, and rare, too. Likely some one-of-a-kind stuff, too, knowing Wukong.

You spent three nights despairing over what to do with them. Giving them away to the masses felt disrespectful to say the least, and with the way your heart shrieked, you decided to listen. Throwing them out didn't feel much better, neither did burying them (yeah... you were thinking of everything)... but you couldn't keep them. No, no, no, it'd just encourage your stupid crush if you caved and kept anything, especially the personal stuff!

So you did the only thing you could think of: give it to your family.

It still didn't feel great either way, but at least you knew they were being cared for. And if Wukong happened to ask for any of it back, it'd be easy to retrieve.

You expect to feel relieved at having found a solution, but it only fills you with dread.

All that's left are the notes.

You keep them in a pretty box in your desk. It's a deep red covered in bright splashes of color meant to resemble fireworks, with bright iron hinges on the back so it could open and close. It's perfectly pristine without so much a speck of dust upon it, it's well-cared for appearance taunting you as you lift it out of its drawer and sit on your bed.

You know you shouldn't look at them, but it's not like it'll change anything—you already have them memorized by heart, anyway.

Dear (name), "Sunshine", huh? Can't say it reflects much of who I am as an infamous, invincible god, but I'll take it over "simian" anyday! I think I'll call you "peaches" in return. It has a nice ring, doesn't it? Sunshine and peaches. Like two peas in a pod. Anyway. I hope you like the clothes!

You laugh softly as you read the note. This had been after you mistakenly let your unspoken nickname for him slip after one of his meetings, flustering both you and the unprepared Dragonhead. Despite your furious blush and profuse apologies, Wukong had made you explain your reasoning behind the nickname (which was mostly Macaque's fault—damn him and his "sun and moon" bullshit). You were mortified, thinking you'd set your and Wukong's relationship way back, but when he started calling you peaches...

Sunshine stuck, and you two really did become peas in a pod.

You've torn through the whole box of notes by the time you realize there are tears running down your cheeks, and the realization does little to change that. Instead, you bend over and press your hands to your face, open-mouthed sobs wracking your body.

Why'd it have to be him? You could've fallen hopelessly in love with anyone, and your heart chose him?

Wukong isn't the problem. No, not at all. Next to you, the Monkey King seems wild, volatile, too much. But that's only because you're a, well, mortal, incapable of shining even half as brightly as he does. Wukong's a god, an immortal king, a being who'd felled thousands in mere moments—your best friend deserves someone who could meet him at his level, not force him into some domestic role.

Someone better than you.

The realization sends a sharp wave rocking through your chest, but with it comes some rush of desperation—you don't know if it's to fight for or against something, but it leads you to pluck one of the notes from its place on the bed,

turn it over so you can't see the words,

and fucking shred it.

That night, as you lie amongst the torn pieces of paper, you can't help but feel like a sole survivor among a ruined city.

Step 2 is done.

3.) Find somebody else.

You have to admit, step 3 was definitely a desperate plan B if nothing else worked, and, well...

Nothing else was working.

Your "sick" month had passed, and you were now three months into cold-turkeying Wukong. You were honestly surprised the Monkey King hadn't broken into your house yet, but based on some demon conflicts you'd seen on the news, you figured he was busy.

But that wasn't the problem. What was the problem was your crush hadn't waned in the slightest! In fact, your attempts to get rid of it had only made you want to run further into Wukong's arms, where you'd be drowned in the scent of peaches and flowers and the feeling of soft fur and a strong body against your's and—

Goddamnit!

Part of you felt... tired. Sick of what you perceived as dramatic and begging for a break from the heartache. It whispered to you, questioning how good Wukong was to keep around if he would cut you loose just for a crush—even saying that it'd be good for you! Save you the trouble and put you on the path of healing before it got real bad... whatever that meant.

But the other half of you fought and it fought hard. You wanted Wukong, even if it meant you could only have him as a friend. He made you feel good and you'd die before giving that up—that was why you'd started this whole mess in the first place!

Besides. You were a mortal, temporary and simple. And adaptable and well-aged as he was, Wukong was still a several-millennium old god. Rules, unspoken or otherwise, were bound to look different for various relationships, and as far as you were concerned, falling head-over-heels, squealing-into-your-pillows and feet-kicking in love with one you called your best friend was written in big red letters right under no.

So you're here at a café (far away from Wukong's headquarters, you made sure), sitting across from... your date.

They're gorgeous. With fawn-colored skin, soft brown eyes, and blonde, orange dipped wavy hair, they make you think of summer, of singing birds and beach days and ice cream in the park. And they're sweet, easily cracking jokes with you and complimenting you without overwhelming you.

But they're not Wukong, and the way you remain acutely aware of that as you share sweet treats with them destroys any hope you had of growing out of this crush.

You're trying to think of ways to let them down gently when you hear the door chime go off. A new customer isn't earth-shattering (it's a public establishment, after all), but a chorus of sharp gasps and your date's frightened stare looking past you makes you turn.

And, god, you wish you hadn't.

Wukong walks into the café calmly, his face unreadable as he scans the booths. You're fairly certain you already know why he's here, but when his eyes meet yours you just know you're fucked.

The café owner bee-lines to Wukong. "G-Great Sage!" They greet, bowing low. "What brings you here?"

Wukong doesn't break eye contact with you. "Nothing to do with you," he answers smoothly before approaching you in long strides.

You can do nothing but watch as he approaches, pinning your tongue between your teeth as you hold the intensity of his stare. Your date, seemingly noticing the tension between you two, reaches out to grasp your hand, but you gently pull away with a shake of your head.

"I'm sorry," you whisper sincerely, sliding enough money for the meal towards them just before Wukong reaches your booth.

The monkey eyes your date, unblinking. If this was any other situation (one where you hadn't avoided him for three months), you'd give him a gentle kick to the leg or something so he'd knock it off. But the situation is too tense, his presence too damning, and you're grateful for the few seconds you get from out beneath the demon's fiery gaze.

"Peaches," he finally murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. "We need to talk."

Fuck.

You get up without a word, placing your purse over your shoulder and heading towards the front door with your eyes on your feet. You can feel everyone's eyes on you—or rather, the two of you, as Wukong walks beside you until you reach the door, which he opens for you. Then he follows you out, staying just far enough behind you that he doesn't step on your heels.

Neither of you speak until you get to a bridge, void of people and surrounded by cherry blossom trees. Wukong stops beside you as you peer over the edge.

"Peaches," he says, his voice still soft. "What's going on?"

Fuck.

You immediately deflect. "How did you find me?"

You hear him suck in a breath.

"How?" You hiss out, glaring up at him.

He stares at you in silence for a moment, then turns on his phone. As he presses a button, your phone vibrates in your hand.

"You tracked my phone?" You ask, blinking owlishly.

"You weren't answering me," replies Wukong simply, pocketing his phone again.

Your face flushes in frustration. "I was out—"

"For three months?"

That makes you go silent. Your phone vibrates again, making the screen light up. You can see Wukong's name in your notifications, but you dare not look to see how many there are, lest it condemn you further.

"You know, I went to your house," Wukong carries on, his voice thickening. "All the stuff I got you is gone."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

"Yeah," you mumble, your gaze falling to the ground.

"Why? Did you not like it?"

You're torn between honesty and further denial. In the end, Wukong speaks before you can make a choice.

"You didn't throw out the notes."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"It took—" his voice chokes out for a second. Your body tenses, your hands turning to white-knuckled fists at your sides. You don't look up. "It took a lot to put them together, surprisingly. Were really dedicated when you tore 'em up, huh?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Did you lie about being sick? Did you... were you just trying to get away from me?"

"It's not like that," you say, rushed, and you know as soon as the words leave your lips that you shouldn't have spoken.

"Then what is it like?" Wukong chokes out in a thick voice, but you still refuse to look him in the eye.

"I... needed alone time," you mumble.

"Why couldn't you say that?" Wukong replies, a bit of sharpness to his tone, and you can't help but feel like you've opened up the floodgates. "Do I make you feel so unsafe that you'll lie to get away from me?"

"Don't assume things about me," you snap hotly, your eyes flickering to his. They glow with a subtle red color, fixated on you, a testament to his growing emotion in the situation. But that's not what gets you.

It's the tears collecting in his eyes.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

"What else am I supposed to do?" He grits outs. "You ignored me for three months. You didn't even text back to say if you were still sick, or if you just wanted me to stop contacting you—"

"Wukong, I—" you try, taking a step backward when the monkey flings his arms.

"And you didn't answer MK or Macaque, either!"

"Wukong—"

"You scared the shit out of me, peaches!"

"And I'm sorry for that," you bite out, managing to shut him up for a minute. You gulp, your grip on your purse tightening. "But I had... I have a problem I have to fix—"

"What is it? If you would just tell me I could help!" Wukong exclaims, reaching towards you.

"No!" You shout, twisting away from him. "You can't help, Wukong!"

"You don't know that!"

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

"I do! I do know that!"

"How?! How could—"

"BECAUSE HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA FIX ME LOVING YOU?"

Wukong falls silent. Still. Your hands slap over your mouth.

The two of you stand in silence for what feels like forever. The river feels deathly silent, and not even the wind blows. Finally, you remove your hands.

"I-I mean, I can fix it, don't worry," you say quickly, the words spilling from your lips like water. "T-These feelings are temporary, I promise. They're just, uh, a b-bit more stubborn than I was expecting, y-y'know? But they're nothing serious, I swear! I-I know I've been difficult these past few months, I know, I'm sorry, just, please, Wukong, don't leav—"

"They're what?" is all Wukong utters, his stare burning through you.

You startle for a second, hands dropping to your chest. "T-They're temporary," you repeat. "Not serious, I swear. Nothing has to change."

Wukong doesn't reply at first. Then:

"What if I want them to be serious?"

Your heart nearly stops in your chest at the force of your surprise. "What?" is all you can get out, staring owlishly at the demon.

"I said," he speaks slowly, stepping towards you. "What if I want them to be serious? To be permanent? What if I want you to be head over heels for me, hm?"

You shiver as he stands before you, hands ghosting over your hips.

"What if I want it all to change, peaches?"

Your heart thumps in your chest, your mind desperately trying to make sense of what he's saying.

Surely he's not... he doesn't mean...

"I don't understand," you whisper, your hands hesitantly pressing against his chest.

"Oh, peaches," he cooes softly, leaning in until his forehead rests against your's and all you can see are his eyes.

"Wu—"

"I love you, (name)."

Your breath catches in your throat, your mouth falling open in shock. Your entire body freezes, your thoughts halted as you process his words...

and then your heart soars.

"Me?" You crack out, a blush warming your skin exponentially. It's a bit overwhelming, the mix of love, surprise, and unfiltered relief. So much so that you can't stop the tears from building up in your eyes and slipping out as you stare up at him. "You love me?"

"Of course," Wukong says softly, his fingers reaching up to brush your tears away. "How couldn't I?"

A sob leaves your mouth at the question. "'C-Cause you're... I'm—"

"Simple?" Wukong ventures, frowning at your nod. He huffs, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. "Peaches, you are anything but simple. You're brilliant and talented and witty and a quick-learner. You keep me guessing even now, and I've been around for a while," he soothes sweetly, a breath of laughter to his voice.

You can't help but laugh a little with him, your heart swelling at his compliments. Your hands slide up his chest and his neck, feeling the soft fur slide through your fingers, and settle on his cheeks. You mirror him then, your thumbs petting his cheek bones and brushing away the wetness in his eyes. Another wave of fresh tears overcomes you when he leans into your hands.

"You're the closest thing to perfection I've ever seen," Wukong murmurs emotionally, one of his hands retracting to engulf one of your's. "You're my girl. My peach. My qíng rén."

A sob breaks free of your lips again as you pull Wukong against you, hiding your face in his chest as you cry. The Dragonhead curls around you, as if shielding you from the outside world, which you're thankful for.

Damn. All of this to find out the great Monkey King loves you back? You're not complaining, god no! Despite your tears, your heart is doing tricks, somersaults and great leaps and cartwheels. It's just...

You definitely have some communication skills to work on, you think.

That can wait, though, you think then, your crying finally tapering out. You manage to tilt your head enough to see Wukong's face, the demon smiling down sweetly at you. Your fingers fiddle with his tie for a moment before drifting upwards and holding his face again.

"Peaches," Wukong calls softly, holding your gaze. "What're you thinking?"

You pause before answering. "I... I want to kiss you," you admit, watching the monkey's face turn a red hue similar to your's. "Can I?"

His ears wiggle, his nose twitches, and then he nods, and you can feel his tail wagging by your legs.

The time for picking on his adorable monkey mannerisms will come later, because right now all you're focused on is bringing Wukong's lips to your's and finally knowing how it feels to kiss the Great Sage.

It's done at an awkward angle since Wukong didn't let you go, the both of you straining a bit to meet each other in the middle, and you break away fast, but it's perfect to you. Maybe not how you imagined a requited crush kiss going, but it's your greatest wish come true in spite of that.

"I love you," he breathes.

Your breath catches again, your heart still flipping ecstatically. "Say it again."

Wukong grins, fangs peeking out of his smile. "I love you, qíng rén."

As you bring the Dragonhead into another kiss, you think of one thing.

Maybe fairytales do exist after all.

❝ Good men die too, so I'd rather be with you .❞

The cute anon ask about rengoku gave me the idea of malleus with a s/o like mitsuri! Everyone thinks he's so scary and then they just see a pretty women with pink hair running towards malleus to talk to him about his day maybe even picking him up and spinning him around cause mitsuris so physically strong! Sorry for rambling I just thought this was cute <3

This was so cute... my heart hurts

@woodrouforest

First off, Malleus is in love with you. It’s a lot like the stories where the dragon falls in love with the beautiful princess. You are the first person who isn’t scared of him, and probably one of the first women (besides his grandmother) that he’s talked to. Of course he’s in love with you.

You both are polar opposites. Malleus is intimidating and his retainers don’t help, but you are the person everyone knows and loves. You are the type who would give someone your lunch because they tripped and fell and spilled their food everywhere.

You are a friend to everyone you come across, and Malleus’ intimidating aura was not enough to make you scared. Hell, you fought demons for a living, nothing scares you anymore. 

In the eyes of everyone, you are beautiful. You are truly like a Disney princess. So imagine everyone’s surprise when you walk up to him with a smile full of joy and ask him about his day and pick him up and spin him around because of how strong you are.

Malleus is also surprised. No one has ever been able to pick him up before, but he’s not against it. You both are nearly equal in strength, and he is glad that there is no power difference between you.

You are glad that he meets your ‘perfect husband’ criteria. He is one of the top 5 most powerful mages, and in your book that exceeds your requirements. Plus, he treats you well. Malleus treats you like his queen, you have him wrapped around your fingers.

Lilia loves you both together. Malleus will go on and on about you, and Lilia is there to lend an ear. He gladly listens to his ‘son’ and his lovesick rants. Sebek can’t say he dislikes you: you are kind to him as well. Silver also enjoys being able to nap on your lap. 

However, your dragon prince gets jealous whenever your attention is off of him. Or when you spend time with someone else. Your attention should only be reserved for him, dang it! >:(

As for your abilities as a Hashira, Malleus is impressed. You aren’t a damsel in distress: you are the one rescuing the damsel. You are a very talented swordswoman and you have superhuman ‘powers’. He will gladly let you train at the dorm, and will even spar against you.

Build-A-Bear except it's Guillermo Del Toro making you a Monster Boyfriend.

“It’s literally impossible to be a woman.

You are so beautiful, and so smart, and it kills me that you don't think you're good enough. Like, we have to always be extraordinary, but somehow, we're always doing it wrong?

You have to be thin, but not too thin, and you can never say you wanna be thin. You have to say you wanna be healthy, but also, you have to BE THIN.

You have to have money, but you can't ask for money because that's crass.

You have to be a boss, but you can't be mean.

You have to lead, but you can't squash other people's ideas.

You're supposed to love being a mother, but don't talk about your kids all the damn time.

You have to be a career woman, but also, always be looking out for other people.

You have to answer for men's bad behavior, which is INSANE, but if you point that out, you're accused of complaining!

You're supposed to stay pretty for men, but not so pretty that you tempt them too much or that you threaten other women because you're supposed to be a part of the sisterhood, but ALWAYS STAND OUT and ALWAYS BE GRATEFUL. But never forget that the system is rigged, so find a way to acknowledge that but ALSO, always be grateful!

You have to never get old. Never be rude. Never show off. Never be selfish. Never fall down. Never fail. Never show fear. Never get OUT OF LINE. It's too hard! It's too contradictory, and nobody gives you a medal or says 'thank you!' And it turns out, in fact, that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also, everything is your fault.

I'm just so tired of watching myself, and every single other woman tie herself into knots, so that people will like us.

And if all of that, is also true for a doll just representing a woman, then I don't even know." -Gloria the barbie movie

this is it. this is exactly it oh my god.

They match now :D

She is rather insecure about her hair, and Macaque tries to make her feel better.

He mostly just hides his white hair to because it's better for fighting, since his main power's source are shadows and black hair make it easier to blend in with them. The real deal is the scar for obvious reasons.

She uses black hair dye because try to imagine being possessed by an evil demon who's trying to destroy the entire world, making you lose months of your life, so that your face is forever the same as said demon AS A KID. And also now you have a different hair color because of it.

Again, english is not my first language so I'm sorry for any grammar mistake.

sometimes i think about childe ships and its like: zhongli, traveler, scaramouche... and which just thinking about it- since these guys are all over 500+ years old at least- MEANS we have, by fandom, labeled childe a certified senior citizen fucker