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agirlnamedelia · 3 days ago

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Hate Sex || Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

cw: cussing, begging, forced kiss at first, office sex, teasing plot: Y/n and the character are co-workers who can't keep bickering with one another. What happens when they are left at work--alone--with intense feelings of hatred(?) with each other.

The battlefield was chaos, smoke and debris clouding the air as you and Bakugou exchanged heated barbs while simultaneously dodging the villain's relentless attacks. Kirishima and Mina flanked the enemy, their movements precise and coordinated as they tried to subdue the hulking figure with glowing gauntlets.

"Watch your left, dumbass!" Bakugou barked, launching a fiery explosion at the villain to divert their attention.

"I don't need you telling me what to do!" you shot back, leaping to dodge a stray blast and firing your own attack in retaliation. The force sent the villain stumbling, but they quickly regained their footing.

"Could've fooled me with how sloppy you're moving!" he snarled, his voice cutting through the din of battle.

"Sloppy? At least I'm not blowing up half the city trying to show off!" you snapped, landing beside him just as another shockwave rippled through the area.

Kirishima's voice cut in, strained but still upbeat. "Guys, can we save the bickering for later? Focus on the giant dude trying to kill us!"

Mina slid into view, her acid sizzling as it hit the villain's armor. "Seriously, you two are like an old married couple! Can we please just work together for five minutes?"

"Tell that to Mr. Ego over here!" you said, pointing at Bakugou.

"Mr. Ego? I'm the only reason this fight isn't a total disaster!" he shot back, his palms sparking with another explosion.

The villain roared, cutting off your argument as they lunged forward. Kirishima hardened his body to block the attack, gritting his teeth as the impact sent him skidding back.

"Little help here!" he called out.

"On it!" you and Bakugou said in unison, momentarily setting aside your feud. You launched a coordinated attack, your combined power finally breaking through the villain's defenses. With a final, earth-shaking blow, the enemy collapsed, unconscious.

The dust settled, and the four of you stood there, catching your breath. Kirishima clapped a hand on your shoulder, grinning despite the exhaustion. "Nice teamwork, guys. Even with all the yelling."

Mina smirked, wiping sweat from her brow. "Yeah, you two might actually make a good duo if you stopped trying to kill each other."

"Not happening," you and Bakugou said at the same time, glaring at each other.

As emergency crews arrived to secure the area, Kirishima and Mina exchanged knowing looks. By the time you piled into the cramped SUV for the ride back to Bakugou's agency, the tension had shifted back to its usual, volatile state.

The engine rumbled softly beneath you, the faint hum filling the awkward silence that Kirishima and Mina desperately tried to maintain. You sat across from Bakugou in the cramped SUV, arms crossed, glaring daggers at the blond like it was a sport.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" you muttered under your breath.

Bakugou scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Coming from the person who tripped over their own feet mid-fight. Real rich, Y/n."

Kirishima groaned from the driver's seat. "Guys, can we not? It's been a long day."

Mina twisted in her seat to face both of you, a tired smile on her face. "Seriously, just five minutes of peace. Please."

You opened your mouth to fire back, but her pointed glare shut you up. You huffed, leaning back in your seat. Bakugou mimicked your pose, but not before shooting you a smug grin. You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out like a child. Barely.

The rest of the drive to Bakugou's agency was mercifully quiet. Kirishima pulled into the lot, and Mina clapped her hands together, an exaggerated cheerfulness in her tone.

"Alright! We're here. Time to split up duties," she said, hopping out of the car.

Bakugou raised an eyebrow, suspicious. "Split up duties? What the hell does that mean?"

Kirishima grinned sheepishly. "Uh, well, Mina and I have some... stuff to do."

"Stuff," Bakugou repeated, his tone flat.

Mina waved a dismissive hand. "You two can handle the paperwork, right? It's not like you're doing anything important."

You narrowed your eyes at her. "Paperwork? You're ditching us to do paperwork?"

"Think of it as bonding time," Kirishima said, already backing away toward the exit.

"You little—" Bakugou started, but the door slammed shut behind them. You both stood there, dumbfounded.

"Unbelievable," you muttered.

"Those assholes," Bakugou growled.

The fluorescent lights in the agency's office buzzed faintly as you sat at the desk, a stack of reports taunting you. Bakugou sat across from you, furiously scribbling notes on a file. His pen scratched loudly against the paper, grating on your nerves.

"Can you not?" you snapped.

"Can I not what?" he shot back, not looking up.

"Write like you're trying to murder the paper."

"Maybe if you did your part faster, I wouldn't have to pick up your slack," he said, finally meeting your glare.

"My slack? I've done more than you in half the time!"

He leaned back in his chair, smirking. "You call that chicken scratch 'work'? Pretty sure my two-year-old niece could do better."

"You don't have a niece."

"You don't know my life."

You groaned, slamming your pen down. "I can't believe I'm stuck here with you."

"Oh, trust me, the feeling's mutual," he said, leaning forward on his elbows. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, and for a second, the tension shifted. It wasn't the usual exasperation or anger—it was something heavier, more charged.

"If you stopped yapping for five seconds, maybe I'd actually get some peace," he added, standing up and walking around the desk toward you.

"Peace? You're the one who keeps starting shit!" you fired back, rising to meet him halfway. The distance between you closed rapidly as the argument escalated.

"You're impossible!" he snarled, his voice raising to match yours.

"Impossible? You're the one who can't go two seconds without throwing a tantrum!" you shot back, your voice now echoing through the quiet office.

"Tantrum? The hell do you think you're doing with all this whining? Just shut up and do the damn paperwork!" he snapped, slamming a hand on the desk for emphasis.

You stood abruptly, knocking your chair back. "I wouldn't have to whine if you weren't such a self-absorbed jerk who thinks everything revolves around him!"

Bakugou scoffed, stalking around the desk toward you. "Self-absorbed? At least I get shit done instead of sitting around crying about how hard everything is."

Your hands balled into fists at your sides, your face heating up. "You are so full of yourself it's a miracle you haven't floated away like a balloon!"

"Yeah? Well, you're so damn annoying it's a wonder anyone can stand to be around you!" he yelled, stepping closer.

"Oh, like you're a ray of sunshine to work with? Newsflash, Bakugou: your personality is toxic enough to melt steel!"

"Better toxic than useless!" he snarled, the gap between you now almost nonexistent. His crimson eyes blazed, and you could feel the heat radiating off him.

"Useless? I'll show you useless, you oversized firecracker—"

Before you could finish your sentence, Bakugou's lips crashed onto yours, cutting off your tirade mid-word. The kiss was fiery and demanding, just like him. His hands gripped the edge of the desk behind you, caging you in as his lips moved with a fervor that left you breathless.

Your mind short-circuited, the words you'd been ready to yell dying in your throat. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights and the pounding of your heart.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was heavy, his eyes searching yours. "You talk too much," he muttered, his voice low and rough.

You blinked at him, still processing what had just happened. "You... you kissed me."

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, his usual cockiness returning, though his flushed cheeks betrayed him.

You stared at him for a beat, your chest heaving as the tension hung thick in the air. "Don't you dare stop," you said, your voice barely above a whisper but full of conviction. Without giving him time to respond, you grabbed his collar and pulled him back down, crashing your lips onto his in another deep, searing kiss.

The kiss quickly turned desperate, both of you clinging to each other as though the world was slipping away. Bakugou's hands slid down to grip your waist, pulling you flush against him. You stood up, leaning into him to deepen the kiss, your fingers threading through his wild blond hair. The motion tipped over the chair you'd been sitting on, but neither of you paid it any mind.

The edge of the desk dug into your back as Bakugou's lips moved feverishly against yours. Without breaking the kiss, he maneuvered you away from the desk, his hands never leaving your body. The two of you stumbled through the office, nearly knocking over a filing cabinet as you went. A muffled laugh escaped you as his lips left yours momentarily to nip at your jawline, the sound quickly replaced by a sharp intake of breath when he found a particularly sensitive spot on your neck.

"Bakugou..." you murmured, your voice half a plea, half a challenge.

"What? Can't keep up?" he teased, though the roughness in his voice betrayed his own impatience.

You didn't dignify him with a response, instead pulling him back down into another heated kiss. His hands fumbled briefly behind you before finding the doorknob to his office. He shoved the door open with more force than necessary, practically dragging you inside.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, the urgency escalated. Bakugou's hands moved to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and over your head in one swift motion. You followed suit, your fingers working hastily to unfasten the straps of his hero gear and toss it aside. His shirt followed quickly after, revealing the taut muscles of his chest, gleaming faintly under the dim office light.

Your hands roamed over his skin, tracing the scars and lines that told the story of his battles. He groaned at your touch, his lips finding yours again as his fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants. Every movement was hurried, each article of clothing discarded with reckless abandon, leaving a trail across the floor of his office.

By the time you were both standing bare before each other, the air between you crackled with tension and raw desire. His crimson eyes met yours, a mix of hunger and something deeper flashing in his gaze.

"You're sure about this?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft as his hands cupped your face.

You leaned into his touch, a small smile playing on your lips. "Shut up and fuck me, Bakugou."

His lips curled into a smirk as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Not so fast," he murmured, his tone laced with mischief. His hand slid down your side, gripping your hip as he pressed you back against the desk.

The heat between you grew unbearable as he positioned himself, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance. His touch was deliberate, agonizingly slow as he moved just enough to drive you insane. Your breath hitched, and you gripped his arms, your nails digging into his skin.

"Katsuki," you gasped, your voice breaking with frustration.

He chuckled darkly, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with a mix of hunger and amusement. "Not gonna happen unless you ask nicely," he said, his voice a low growl.

You clenched your jaw, refusing to give in to his taunts, but the way he continued to tease you—just barely pushing, then pulling back—left you trembling. Your pride waged war with your desire, but the ache in your body was too much to bear.

"Please," you finally whispered, your voice cracking.

He tilted his head, pretending not to hear. "What was that? Didn't catch it."

Your grip tightened on his arms, your face flushed. "Please, Katsuki. I need you," you said, louder this time, the desperation evident in your tone.

His smirk widened, and he leaned in to kiss you, the motion firm and possessive. "That's better," he murmured against your lips, finally pushing into you with a slow, deliberate thrust.

His smirk only deepened as he leaned down, capturing your lips again in a searing kiss. The way his hips moved, slow and unrelenting, made you arch into him, desperate for more of the friction that he was so cruelly controlling.

"You're so needy," he teased, his voice rough against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Thought you were tougher than this, Y/n. Can't even handle a little waiting, huh?"

You let out a frustrated groan, the sound muffled against his shoulder as your nails raked down his back. He hissed at the sensation, his muscles tensing beneath your touch, but the devilish grin on his face never faltered.

"Katsuki," you whimpered, your voice trembling. "Stop... teasing me."

He chuckled, low and almost predatory, the vibration of it making your breath hitch. "Where's the fun in that?" he asked, his tone mockingly sweet as his teeth grazed along the curve of your neck. "You like it. Don't even try to deny it."

Your hands slid up to tangle in his hair, pulling slightly in retaliation, earning a sharp inhale from him. The smug look on his face faltered for just a second, and you seized the opportunity to push your hips up against his, drawing a strained groan from his lips.

"Oh, you wanna play like that?" he growled, his voice dripping with challenge. His grip on your hips tightened, and before you could reply, he rolled his hips with enough force to knock the air from your lungs. Your head fell back against the desk, a moan escaping your lips as he finally gave you what you'd been craving.

"That's more like it," he murmured, his tone laced with approval as he set a rhythm that had your head spinning. His movements were calculated, hitting all the right spots with precision that made your toes curl.

Your nails dug into his shoulders again, and you struggled to keep your voice steady as you said, "You... drive me crazy."

He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a taunting kiss. "Good," he replied, his breath hot against your mouth. "I'd be disappointed if I didn't."

The heat between you grew more intense with every thrust, his name falling from your lips in breathless gasps. His hands roamed your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, and the smug look on his face only grew as he watched you unravel beneath him.

"Look at you," he said, his voice rough with barely contained hunger. "Completely mine."

The possessiveness in his tone sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you met his gaze, your eyes half-lidded with desire. "Always," you whispered, the word barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing.

His pace quickened, and the room filled with the sound of skin against skin, your moans mingling with his low groans. The pressure building inside you was almost unbearable, and you clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you grounded.

"Katsuki," you gasped, your voice trembling with urgency. "I'm..."

"I know you're close," he said, his voice dropping into a cruel, teasing purr. "But you're not gonna get there until you beg for it."

Your breath hitched, frustration and need coiling tight in your chest. "Katsuki, please," you whimpered, but he shook his head, his grin all sharp edges.

"That's not good enough," he murmured, his hips still moving torturously slow. "I wanna hear you say it properly. Beg me, baby. Tell me exactly what you want."

The tension in your body was unbearable, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. "Please, Katsuki," you said, your voice breaking. "I need you. Please let me... please let me come."

For a moment, he only stared at you, his crimson eyes dark with something possessive and raw. Then his smirk softened, and he leaned down, brushing his lips against yours in a fleeting kiss. "That's my girl," he murmured.

Without warning, his pace quickened, and the sudden intensity made your head spin. The coil in your stomach snapped, and you cried out, your entire body shaking as pleasure tore through you. Katsuki followed seconds later, his growl low and guttural as he buried himself in you, his hold on your hips bruising.

The two of you stayed locked together, your heavy breaths mingling in the aftermath. His hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear as he pressed his forehead to yours. "Was that so hard?" he asked, his tone still teasing but softer now.

You huffed, weakly swatting at his chest. "You're the worst."

He chuckled, leaning closer with a cocky smirk that made your blood boil. "Yeah, but admit it," he said, his voice low and teasing. "You love the way I make you beg."

Your mouth opened to retort, but the intensity in his gaze froze the words on your tongue. Instead, you scoffed, looking away to mask the heat rising to your face. "You're insufferable," you muttered, though your voice lacked its usual bite.

He tilted your chin back to meet his eyes, the smugness in his expression softening just slightly. "Maybe," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek in an uncharacteristically tender gesture. "But you can't deny the way you clenched so hard for me when I made you beg for it."

And as much as you wanted to argue, the truth lingered unspoken in the silence between you.

Hi hello! I hope you all enjoy this lil' smut of mine. If you want more of this, I actually have a Youtube channel where I create stories like this too.

CLICK HERE to check out my Youtube channel. (Also your sub will help a lot! Thank you. <3)

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diorcities · 2 days ago

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poison.

── why if you two broke up, you keep messing with him? you're his poison, but he can't help but want you to come back to him. haechan x you genre smut content dacryphilia, heavy make out, angry sex, manhandling, tits play, oral sex, riding, clit play, fingering, orgasm control. wc 3k

author's suggestion for next reading: one of the girls.

mdni.

when you try to kiss him and he pulls away, you know how upset he is.

“yn, cut the shit.”

dodging you only makes you more affectionate, and his attempts to get away from you while putting distance between your bodies don't work either. he forcibly ignores you even when you stand in front of him to look at the sternly expression, but you're too reveled in the shape of his mouth and his attractive features to bother noticing it.

you want to kiss him. fervently, ardently. you want him to remember you every time he do it with someone else. you want to leave such an impression on him, that he ends up having to look for someone who looks like you to make up for when you break his heart.

his responsive heart, when he takes your wrists on one hand when you try to grab him by the neck. so close to his weak spot that it gives you away immediately, “of course you find it funny.”

his eyes full of venom look at you before he gives you a withering glance that only makes you giggle.

“i'd say hot...”

he moves your wrists even though you try not to. the roles reverse when he's the one pushing you into his body. your smile falters when he licks his lips. eyes attracted like a magnet to see the gesture. “this is all a game for you.”

you scoff, “everything is a game for me.”

he gets closer, so much so that you're sure his dark eyes could catch you like a black hole. “you sure you want to play a game right now?”

there is a smoothness in his every action. from fixing his hair to tying a tie. driving with one hand on your thigh and carry you in his arms to the bedroom. his arms holding his weight on top of you, the sounds he makes against your mouth, the fact he can move you where he wants you, his fingers tattooed on your skin forever. the way he knows he has you. “can it be one where i win something?”

his eyes darken visibly, you fear falling and falling if you look at him for a long time.

moments before, you were getting bored. nothing surprised you, nothing attracted you.. maybe you were just full of yourself. but your guilty delight, your deepest fascination was always been able to make him jealous. because then... his gaze becomes heavy, and his jaw tighten.

to kiss his pursed lips away gives you more satisfaction than when you hooked up with all his friends.

the moment of waiting to feel his mouth on yours kills you. your eyes follow his features effortlessly attractives with your doe eyes, and he watches you do it. something puzzles inside you.

he lift your chin to align your mouth with his. “oh, yeah?”

he's is taller than you, his delicate body and chiseled muscles sometimes make you forget how strong he can be when he grabs you by the waist and moves you with ease towards the wall to attack your mouth hungrily.

you feel his smile on your mouth when you scream at him pressing you softly against the wall and his body. the warmth radiating from his presence clutters your senses. the burning kiss overwhelms you, getting sharper, haechan makes you sigh in his mouth.

haechan has the grip on your chin, where he controls the depth of the kiss; trapped between him and nothing, between falling into his arms or into the abyss.

you're so dazzed, you can only wait for him to use you at will. pleasantly, you don't resist when he kisses your neck and buries his head to suck in your scent. when his hands grope you and press on your back. when he comes back to your mouth for more. “you're the devil.”

he turns on to see you willing, your small hands on his shoulders and arms, the way your mouth takes him possessively. kissing his cheeks and neck, jaw and lips again. unable to make you stop despite feeling the pressure in his pants, waiting since the night began.

destructive and lethally beautiful, haechan's intoxicated by you. you are his favorite poison.

your mouth is intoxicating, and the soft sighs he brings out of you are fanciful to him. opening your legs to see how wet you are, you watch him bury his head between your thighs to give you a taste.

your back arches involuntarily, a heat overwhelms you, and a tingling spreads from your stomach to every nerve ending. you're sweet and honeyed, your pussy gets more soggy when he puts his mouth on your clitoris, and fills the room with soaking sounds. “oh god!”

he entices the sweetest moans out of you. his tongue passing through your core causes you to stifle a whimper. your legs are opened under the firm grip on your thighs, keeping you spread and receiving the motion of his mouth. it is impossible for you to escape, your body trembles and a spasm runs through you when he introduce a finger and press your swollen core, “mmm... hyuck... f-fuck-”

your intimacy burns and goes numb, a pain hits you when it settles in your belly, gaining strength, growing. your stomach shrinks and your eyes flutter. the fog crowds your eyes and you moan feeling the sweet sensation stop.

haechan pulls away and your eyes meet. you barely see his figure, imposing himself on you as he grabs your ankles because of the tears that come over you when he cuts the pleasant feeling.

“beg for it.”

“please.” your mouth feels dry when you see him put two fingers in his mouth.

he wastes no time and resumes the pace. two digits are inserted and begin to roam you rhythmically while his eyes observe what he does. “you look so beautiful, so hot and pretty for me.” your legs open wide for a full view, that makes you grunt when they press on a different angle. “let me hear my name.”

“hyuck—” the movement generated by the friction of your walls with his fingers covers your ears in pleasant wet sounds as something delicious embalms your muscles. “hyuck, i'm cumming...” a hiss assault you when a sweet pain hit your gut.

your digits desperately go down to your femininity to calm the unbearable pleasure. your eyes close tightly and your hand winds up in his forearm, muscles flexing as he works his fingers in and out of you. “cum on my fingers.”

a strong pulse thunders in your pussy and takes your breath away from the destroying orgasm. your face gets wet and you make a face that doesn't go unnoticed; haechan's gaze falls on you and watch you with perverse attention as his fingers keep moving inside you, wetting your legs as you squirt around his digits. “g-god,” you cry in a whiny voice that he finds enticing.

his half-open, inviting mouth kisses you fiercely in a euphoric feeling. you taste the silkiness of your arousal on his tongue as he deepens the kiss, cradling you in his arms as he washes the climax out of you.

in one move, he makes you straddle him. your hands go to his warm chest, feeling his heart beating fast under your palm as his erection presses into your intimacy. “how are you feeling?” he asks, caressing your sides up and down.

you have a hard time finding your voice, and he likes that. “good.”

his face comes dangerously close to your chest, where he fits his mouth around your tit through the dress. the mere sensation of his breath and the warmth of his mouth makes you squeeze your legs around his waist. “just good?” he presses you towards himself when you try to pull away. his caresses are intoxicating; you brush his hair and let yourself go, rocking your hips back and forth.

haechan hisses when your hands reach down to the buckle of his pants to take it off eagerly. you get back on his lap and waste no time when you align his length with your pussy and go all the way down.

you both moan loudly.

the dress starts to slide off your shoulders as you start riding him. you go up and down in accentuated and deep movements, feeling with immensity and pleasure the way in which his cock fills you whole. haechan presses against your walls and his dick buried in you creates a delicious friction. your eyes roll as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and begin to rock him rhythmically.

his hands control your hips and assist you when you ride it more intensely. you go back and forth on his cock at a crushing pace, watching his expressions writhe and head fall back. he's all flustered and out of space; it makes you grin. “fucked, baby?” you slow down and change the rhythm. that just makes him jerk under you and squeeze your waist.

a strong pulse in your guts takes your breath away when he laughs shortly. you're so sensitive that you tremble all the time.

you see him underneath you, with his bedroom eyes, brown and round. delicate cheekbones and soft features, contracted by the pleasure you give him. haechan is by far the most beautiful and alluring man you've ever met; you're still haunted by him every time you fuck someone.

all you want is him. to see him moan your name, yet his mouth is kept sealed. “am i not fucking you good?” you express, rocking back and forth, hearing your wetness all over his length.

he sneers, eyes furrowed. his tongue pokes the inside of his cheeks as he uses his hands to control your body. you both look at each other intensely as he helps you ride him. “hae-” a sweet current spreads through your muscles and makes you gasp.

your body shudders and he rolls his eyes, shutting close just as he offers you his hands for support. “tell me you love me.”

“fuck you.” laughing only makes haechan's sensations enhancing; your walls have pulsed around him. and you suffer more spasms when he brings a hand to your clitoris to feel yourself doing it more. addicted and intoxicated by how well you squeeze around him, he hisses.

a tingling sensation runs through you while a sharp sensation forms in your intimacy seeing him leaning to you and kissing you fervently. half-open mouth taking your lips with expert savagery, passionate and deep. he grabs the back of your neck and turns his head, your hands press on his chest and you increase the intensity of your body taking him full, rhythmically and harder.

your mouths drown out each other's moans, “you're fucking mine,” you declare, you promise. and the minutes that pass without him answering make a hole open in your chest.

“fucking yours.”

haechan hisses when he feels you pulsing, non-stop moving on him, leaving your orgasm in the background as you continue to ride him with agility and desperation. “so hot...” your pussy pricks with sharp pain that makes your eyes roll as you fuck him dumb with unbridled and messy movements. “cum in my cock, yeah?”

he pulls your dress down further until your breasts are exposed. his mouth get closer and suck around your nipple, making you speed up the thrusts. your eyebrows gather with pleasure at the way he hits your sweet spot. cock fitting perfectly in your needy pussy, fucking you out. you start grinding against him and scream. “hyuck—”

“mmm... you're so good.” his hands assist you to give you more balance. he squeezes gently and loosens, seeing him so enraptured only makes you lovesick and needy.

“fill me up, hmm? baby..., s-stuff me, hyuck” haechan grunts and buckles his hips up, shoving his entire cock into you at the same time as he starts to pulse hard. he grimaces when your walls clench, wrapping him tight as he fills you with ropes of hot cum, slick seed coming down his length and bathing his crotch.

an electric current of delight whips you as he nuts inside and whines loudly, eyes fixed on your pussy taking him all the way in while he rubs your swollen clit. the orgasm comes to you livid and pleasurable, leaving you gasping for air.

“a-ah,” you whine, feeling your legs burn and tremble, pulsing around him.

you keep it inside as he continues to massage you and your body begins to shake from the overload of pleasure. you ride him unconsciously as a white noise fills your head and makes you go numb.

you slump on the soft surface of the bed face down.

when you position yourself on your stomach, you look at him with dreamy eyes. haechan opens his eyes with characteristic mockery when he understands exactly what you want. “fuck me harder.”

he, then, proceeds to move on top of you. his arms imprison you inside, his warm chest touches your back. he possessively wraps an arm around and across your chest as he place a kiss on your shoulder.

your mouths opens and lets out a breathy gasp at the feeling of his cock pressing against you. your hands squeeze the sheets as he gently enters, a strange sensation whips you at the friction between your plushy walls. haechan opens you up for him and pushes some more, making your legs shake with bewilderment before a wave of pleasure blows the air out of you and encourages you to push your hips into it.

he stretches you good for him, and waits for you to sit comfortably with him inside you before he begins to thrusts. drugged and dazed from the way your sweet cunt take him. he looks at you, bewitched and he's in deep shit.

he wants you. his hand keeps you close to him, pounding you the way you want it. the way you love the most.

“deeper,” you plead.

your mouth forms an o when he fills you completely and muffles a growl against your shoulder. “oh, y-yes.”

the strange and pleasurable sensation expands to your belly when he begins to penetrate you in short thrusts. you barely feel him move inches out before putting it back in. you stifle a long cry against the mattress, trembling from head to toe with buzzing ecstasy.

your previous climax only aggravates your sensations, still awake. your numb pussy releases a sweet sensation when haechan fills you and you squeeze the sheets, listening to his laborious breathing against your skin each time he pounds into you, hitting your sensitive spot until you're a mess of babbling nonsenses.

“hyuck— don't stop.” haechan fights so as not to lose the battle of succumbing at that moment, feeling you so narrow around him, squeezing his girth just right. your body under his, taking it while rolling your eyes. feeling a white noise go down to the tip of his penis, he moans your name.

his hand interlocks with yours as he speeds up the pounding. the room fill with his moans and the lewd sounds of your bodies connecting. “yes, yes. a-agh.” you bristle and stick your back against his chest when a current whips you. “hyuck!”

he pushes you against the bed to sit up and the shifting position cause his dick to bury deeper. you both moan at the same time. his hands goes to press into your lower back to keep you down, shoving his dick until you tremble from head to toe, in and out of you with a bestial motive.

his eyes see where your bodies meet. you connected to him every time he moves his pelvis towards you and his creamy length disappears between the soft and fluffy buttocks that he keeps apart to see how it enters. “fuck, baby.”

a smile blooms on your face while you're in the clouds, knowing what he's doing. a spasm shakes you when the rhythm changes and he fucks you with harder. moans becoming louder as his climax approaches.

your eyes mist up and roll hard under the pressure on your lower belly. liquid pleasure going down to your area until it hurts from the touch. you twitch and cry, feeling his cock hammer you sharply.

everything collapses when you cum and the pulsations squeeze around him.

haechan pulls away breathing heavily, giving you a spanking that tickles your femininity. you're so deranged that you let yourself be taken by him. his arms wrap you and position you on pillows as he kisses your neck, cheeks, and lips. your legs barely give way to stay tied around his waist as he guides your limbs with his hands, tucking his body between your legs, overwhelming you in his embrace.

you're so dizzy with crushing pleasure that you didn't notice him finishing.

“be good and take me one last time.”

#haechan smut #donghyuck smut #haechan hard hours #lee haechan smut #haechan hard thoughts #donghyuck hard hours #♡haechan

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paddockletters · 4 hours ago

Text

redeemed | lando norris

summary: After a messy breakup, Lando’s fans blame his best friend for ruining his relationship. request: yes! sorry took me too long :(( tbh, this had been sitting in drafts for a while because i wasn’t entirely convinced about it (still not 100%, to be fair), but i thought, “Well, maybe they’ll like it,” so here it issss

landonorris

Liked by yourusername and 982,273 others

landonorris: Another race weekend!

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user1: I want to be Y/N so baaaad🤧 lando’sgf: love you so muchhhh!!!❤️ user2: Y/N made it again in Lando’s post, love them! user3: I’d love a friendship like Lando and Y/N’s 😭😭😭

yourusername: Great weekend, miss you alredy muppet 🤧❤️

landonorris: It was! When are you coming to visit again?

user4: Lando replied to Y/N but not his gf…💀💀 user5: THE fit, THE smile, THE overtakes 😭 user6: She really needs to back off from Lando and Alice user7: Photo 3 >>> everything else 🫠

lando’sgf posted a story.

yourusername

Liked by carlossainz55 and 76,261 others

yourusername: About last month 💗

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carlossainz55: Feeling special for being in your post 🤧

yourusername: You should, cos it won’t happen again 💀

user8: Lando’s smile in the 3rd photo? how do I sign up for your life? 😭 user9: She can’t post without Lando or some driver in it 🤮

user10: True that, she’s all about the fame

user11: living my dream life AND looking flawless while doing it?❤️😭 user12: always getting in the way of Lando and Alice, proper messing with them 🙄

user13: what are you on about? Lando and Y/N have been friends for yearsss 🤡

user14: well, why didn’t anyone know about her till now? she just wants Lando for the fame, no doubt

landonorris posted a story

lando’s gf posted a story.

lando’s gf

Liked by yourusername and 21,939 others

lando’s gf: ❤️❤️

landonorris

Liked by oscarpiastri and 1,283,934 others

landonorris: Free time when I’m not driving a F1 car around the world

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user15: Lando— HAHAHA

user16: where’s Alice???

user17: y'all are obsessed with his gf, mind your own business ffs

user18: Bet Y/N’s asking Lando not to take Alice 🙄

user19: giiiirl, touch some grass! Alice has been back in her country

user20: Y/N’s always with Lando, so he’s footing the bill for everything

user21: Everything, mate—GP trips, holidays, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got him paying her rent too 🤮

user22: I wouldn’t want to be Alice, seeing Y/N everywhere around Lando 💀

landonorris just posted a story.

yourusername posted a story

yourusername

Liked by max33verstappen and 39,983 others

yourusername: [No caption]

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user23: an unexpected crossover user24: Oh, so the gold-digger’s moved on to someone else now? user25: Hope you’re proud of yourself for ruining Lando and Alice’s relationship, biTCH user26: Hope you die

carlossainz55: should I feel proud because you went to a Real Madrid match or bad for "L" because you went out with someone from that team???

carlossainz55: nah, estoy orgulloso

user27: stay away from Lando, you slut

This post is unavailable

lando’sex-girlfriend

liked by 172,982

lando’sex-girlfriend: A little miracle is on the way, and we couldn’t be more excited. 👼

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user28: Nearly had a heart attack, thought Lando was going to be a dad 😭😭😭 user29: No way, she was the one who cheated 💀 user30: 💀

landonorris

Liked by charles_leclerc and 1,928,388 others

landonorris: I lost the best thing in my life because of all of you.

Because of your words, your hate, your accusations. You turned her into the villain when all she ever was, was my best friend.

You all tore us apart, pushed me to let go of the one person who truly mattered, all because you couldn’t mind your own business.

And now, seven months later, I see the truth—she was never the problem. I was. I should’ve fought for her. But instead, I let you win.

I’ll never forgive myself for that. I lost her because of you.

—Lando

View all the commments

user31: lando, you did what you thought was best at the time. We’re all human, and nobody should have been attacking her like that

user32: we judged her without knowing the full story 🤧

user33: can’t believe we believed the lies

user 34: I feel so bad now

danielricciardo: Lando, I’ve got your back. It’s crazy how people act like they know your life when they don’t 🤛

user35: It’s hard to see things clearly when the pressure is on you. Glad you’re speaking out now, nobody deserves that kind of hate, especially someone as good

user36: It’s obvious she meant a lot to you but the media and fans never understood that

user37: We were too quick to judge her

maxverstappen1: People love to talk without knowing the full story. Stay strong, mate, always here if you need to talk 🤜🤜

time skip

landonorris

Liked by yourusername and 2,951,052 others

landonorris: I don’t think there’s anyone who deserves this more than her. From being the absolute boss she is in everything she touches to owning this year’s CEO of the Year award (seriously, she’s amazing), I couldn’t be prouder I of course I’m the best wag

View all the commments

user38: YOUR WIFE?!?!? 😱 i can’t even process it. Lando, what’s happening?!

user39: wait, I thought you were single?? How did we miss this??

user40: no… I THOUGHT THE WERE FRIENDSS????

user41: wait a damn minute—Lando’s married??!! And she’s holding CEO of the year??? I need answers 😭

user42: OH MY GODDD She’s literally living the dream!! And Lando, we all knew you were the best, but now you’ve just confirmed it

user43: HE’S MARRIED?!? And she’s CEO OF THE YEAR?!?! You guys are literally goals

user44: i’m happy for you but also I’m crying in my room so… mixed emotions 🫠🧡

user45: Y/N is literally TOO perfect and it’s offensive to the rest of us 😭😭😭

user46: No hate, but also… I’m fighting for my life over here while Y/N is living my dream 😭

user47: @/yourusername you wake up every day and think, ‘how can I flex on everyone today?’ Because wow 💀

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henry7931 · 21 hours ago

Text

Adventures In Babysitting Spinoff: Billy’s College Adventures Part 1

It’s been 10 years since Billy’s adventures with Leo.

Billy:

Hi, I’m Billy. I think most of you are familiar with me although it’s been a hot minute. But let me catch you up. I’m now in college and doing pretty well on the most part. I guess you can say I live a somewhat ordinary life (outside of my powers of course). I live 10 hours away from my hometown now and it’s been a little bit of a challenge for me. I have little to no friends here which is my fault. I don’t really go out to parties. I’m a good student which I great and all… I’m just bored! Mainly because I promised both of my dads that I wouldn’t use my powers here. Bleh!

I realize that my abilities can seem a bit… I don’t know odd. But they feel like such a big part of me. Not only that but I also figured out how to expand them! I recently discovered before college that not only can I swap bodies with someone but I can also swap two individuals without swapping myself. Pretty cool right?

Sigh… I just can’t use them.

I don’t think anyone else has my ability. I’ve been trying for years, doing countless research on my computer to see if I’m the only person on earth who can swap with someone. And it might just be me.

Well… that statement was true until something crazy happened.

The other day I’m sitting in my Chemistry class trying my hardest to not fall asleep during our lecture. After about 30 minutes in, I got up to use the restroom hoping I’d wake up a bit.

As I’m heading down the hallway, I hear two voices panicking.

They come around the corner and it’s a guy around my age along with someone I’d assume to be a professor. I quickly hid behind a door leaving it open just enough so I can see what’s going on.

“Professor William! What did you do to us?,” says the older guy.

“Jeremy! You think I did this? You think i want to he you??!? I’m trying not to have a panic attack. This is unheard of… two people somehow becoming eachother. This has to be a dream! I have to be sleeping right now! Wake up! Wake up!,” says the young college student who starts slapping himself in the face over and over again.

“Stop slapping my face!,” says the professor grabbing the students hand.

“Oh god! This isn’t a dream!”

“Yeah No shit! Now can you pull yourself together, people are going to think Im crazy!!”

This has to be a joke… there is no way someone else has the same powers as me. Especially someone who goes to school with me.

I look around trying to see if anyone else was around them.

No one is in the hallway…

I look back at the college student and the professor. The professor inside of the college student is hyperventilating while the other is pacing back and forth.

I thought to myself, I know I’m not supposed to use my powers here… but this maybe the one exception.

I switch them back.

“Holy shit! Professor Williams! I’m me!!”

Professor Williams looks down at his body with disbelief.

“This… how did we… oh god, let’s just get out of here. I have a lesson here shortly. Make sure you bring your report back to me Monday, okay?”

“Sure thing!”

As both of them leave, I see a tall figure with a hoodie on dart for the door.

“Hey! Come back!,” I say running after them.

They keep running and I chase after them. They head outside and by the time I get to the door, a giant shuffle of people were all outside. I looked around for the hoodie but whoever that was— wasn’t anywhere to be found.

After class, I head back to my place. I laid back in bed thinking about the possibility that someone else near me had my powers.

I feel excited from the thought that I’m not the only one. But then another thought hit me— why would they swap that guy and his professor?

Was it just to be devious? Or did they have a good reason?

Listen, I’ve been guilty of swapping my family, Leo, his friends around… hell I one time swapped bodies with a teacher just to get out of a final.

But swapping those two people felt like they did it with intent. Wait… did they know that I swapped them back? Did I just accidentally outed myself?

Fuckkkk…

I grab my phone and start texting Leo. Yes, I still talk to Leo. He said we can keep friends as long as I don’t steal his body again.

I try calling him but it just goes to voicemail.

“Hey I think I messed up. Call me when you get a second.”

Ugh… I’m sure Leo is doing something too cool with his fiancé. He met some guy and he’s head over heels for him. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for Leo. Just a little bitter is all.

A few minutes pass and I close my eyes for a second.

When I open my eyes back up, I feel almost disoriented. It’s dark outside which means I must have fell asleep for hours…

It takes me a second but I suddenly realize that I’m no longer in my room… actually I don’t know where the hell I am.

I stumble around the darkness until I find a phone. The unlocks from face recognition and I immediately open up the camera.

“What the fuck?”

Who am I???

Meanwhile…

Samuel:

*Billy’s phone rings in the distance, it’s a call from Leo*

“Hello?…Oh hey… yeah. Nothing much, just chilling here— What? My text? That’s right! No I’m all good, sorry about that… didn’t mean to panic you. I know! But can I like call you back? Okay, great. Thanks!”

Geez! One second in this guy’s body and I’m already having to pretend to him!

Billy… huh… you’re a pretty good looking guy Billy. My names Samuel and we’re about to get closer than ever lol.

I tug off Billy’s socks and prop up his feet. Damn, he has some sexy ass toes.

I’m sure he’ll be here soon in my body. It’s funny, I knew of the existence of other swappers. But I never thought in a million years one would be so dumb to make it so obvious. I mean it was one thing when he swapped those guys back but then follow me? What an idiot!

I unbutton Billy’s pants and reach into his pants.

“Mhmmm…”

Man! Touching another guys junk never gets old! And he’s cute?!? This is about to be fun!

#body swap #male tf #male body swap #adventures #body theft

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nahoney22 · 2 days ago

Note

Congratulations on the followers! Please can I request some angsty fluff with Fox and a female reader with this prompt - 24: “Who hurt you?”

Maybe reader got attacked and he found her and tends to her wounds which leads to some feelings being shared? Thanks if you do 😊 I love your work

Medical Feelings

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female!Reader

word count: 1.8k

prompts:

• “Who hurt you?”

Plot: After a risky mission that left you injured, Commander Fox helps nurse you back to health.

Warnings: Safe for work, hurt whump, idiots in love, Reader scared of droids momentarily, needle mention, slightly injured reader, minor blood mention.

Authors note: Sorry for the wait 🩵

“How are you holding up?”

You blink, trying to focus as the voice cuts through the haze in your head. But your vision blurs and swims, the light above stabbing behind your eyes like a viroblade.

“Like someone who’s been hit in the head,” you groan, wincing as you sit up on the medbay cot. The room tilts for a moment and you feel like you may be sick but luckily it settles, and your eyes finally set on the figure perched nearby. Thire.

The mission hadn’t gone as planned. What should have been a straightforward retrieval of intel left you caught in the crossfire. You weren’t a soldier so when the fighting started, you’d been forced to rely on pure luck and very minimal training. Clearly, neither had been enough.

Your memory of the incident was weak as all you could recall was a sharp pain to your head followed by the sight of clankers looming over you before everything went dark.

“You took quite a hit,” Thire says, his voice lighter than the situation warrants as he pulls up a stool to sit beside you.

“I noticed,” you mutter, rubbing gingerly at your temple that felt sticky and as you pull your hand back, a splodge of blood painted your fingertips. A dull ache radiates from where the blow landed, and your entire body feels stiff and battered.

Recovery is going to take a while.

“You know the Commander’s going to want to see you.”

The comment makes you freeze for a beat before you force a painful shrug, hoping to look unaffected. “He’s busy. I doubt he even noticed.”

Thire snickers. “Not too busy for his favourite girl.”

You roll your eyes, already regretting letting him sit down. “Oh don’t start with all that.”

But Thire doesn’t let up, grinning like a loth-cat who’s cornered its prey. “Come on. You’ve seen the way he looks at you. If Fox stares any harder, his visor’s going to fog up.”

“Shut up, Thire,” you grumble, though a reluctant chuckle escapes before you can stop it. The movement makes your ribs ache, and you hiss softly in pain. “And no, I haven’t seen the way he looks at me. It's you lot putting that notion in my head.”

Instantly, Thire’s grin fades, replaced by concern as he notices your pain. “Should I call a med droid?”

“No!” you blurt, a little too quickly. Thire raises a brow, clearly catching on.

“Not a fan of droids, huh?”

You cross your arms, or at least try to; the motion is stiff and awkward. “I’m fine. Really. I don’t need—”

“Who hurt you?”

The sudden voice freezes you mid-sentence. Both you and Thire turn toward the door at the same time, and your heart stops.

Commander Fox. The visor of his helmet glints under the overhead lights as he strides toward you, exuding that no-nonsense authority he’s known for.

Thire shoots you a smug, told-you-so glance before rising to his feet. “This one took a blow to the head, sir. She has a possible concussion.”

Fox’s attention shifts to the datapad in Thire’s hand. “Why wasn’t this reported to me immediately?”

“I figured you had more pressing matters,” Thire replies smoothly, clearly unfazed by the irritation in Fox’s tone.

Fox huffs, the sound sharp and metallic through his helmet’s vocoder. His gaze snaps back to the datapad, scanning the details. “And why hasn’t a med droid been dispatched?”

You groan, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “I’m right here, you know. Maybe someone could ask me what I want instead of talking like I’m invisible.”

Both men turn toward you at the same time. Thire’s expression is sheepish, though it doesn’t quite mask the amusement in his eyes. Fox, however, is unreadable as always, his emotions hidden behind the stoic facade of his helmet.

Thire clears his throat, stepping back. “I’ll, uh, leave you with the Commander.” He’s gone before you can protest, disappearing through the door with a suspiciously quick pace.

The silence that follows is thick enough to cut with a vibroblade. Fox stands rigidly near the cot, his arms folded across his chest. You can hear the faint tap of his boot against the durasteel floor as he shifts his weight, clearly uncomfortable.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “How are you feeling?”

You shrug, regretting it immediately when the movement sends another sharp ache down your spine. “I’ve been better.”

His head tilts slightly, a gesture that might be concern. “You should’ve reported your injuries sooner.”

“You think I wanted to end up in here?” you counter, the bite in your voice softened by exhaustion.

Fox doesn’t reply immediately. Instead, he steps closer, his broad frame almost casting a shadow over you. For a moment, you think he might argue. But his next words surprise you.

“You’re lucky,” he says almost quietly. “It could’ve been worse.”

There’s something in his tone—a rare softness that catches you off guard, even if it is for a moment. You both seem to snap out of whatever the hold that ensnared you both and you close your eyes, leaning back with a soft agreement of his words.

Fox pauses for a moment, then steps away. You crack one eye open, expecting him to be halfway out the door, but to your surprise, he returns moments later with a medical droid trailing behind.

You suddenly sit up straighter, tension rippling through you as the AZI droid glides closer, a stim injector held in one of its arms.

“I’m fine. I don’t need a droid to see me,” you declare quickly, glancing between the droid and Fox with what you hope is a convincing look of confidence. But Fox is already standing there, arms crossed, and his helmet tilts slightly in a way that screams ‘you’re not fine’.

“The patient requires an injection to reduce inflammation and prevent complications,” the droid announces, already grating on your nerves.

Your heart skips as the droid raises the injector, the gleam of the stim making your stomach twist. You instinctively lean back, trying to put more space between you and the advancing machine.

“No. I don’t want it,” you snap, panic slipping into your voice despite your best efforts.

Fox’s gaze shifts to you, then to the droid. He holds up a hand, “Stop.”

The droid halts mid-motion. “Commander, the patient requires—”

“I’ll handle it,” Fox says firmly.

Before you can process what’s happening, he steps forward and plucks the stim from the droid’s arm.

“What are you doing?” you ask apprehensively.

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead inspecting the stim injector with almost practiced ease. “You need this,” he says finally, his tone calm but resolute under the modulator. “If you don’t want the droid to do it, I will.”

Your mouth opens, then closes, words failing you as he pulls a stool closer and sits beside the cot. He’s quiet, efficient, and unbothered by your flustered state as he rolls up the sleeve of your tunic. His gloved fingers brush against your skin, sending a jolt through you that has nothing to do with the injection.

“This will only take a second,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost soothing. “Just relax.”

You nod stiffly, your pulse racing as he steadies your arm. The sharp pinch of the needle is over in a heartbeat, but the warmth of his proximity lingers far longer.

“There. All done.”

You exhale, tension slowly bleeding out of your shoulders. “Thanks,” you murmur, your voice quieter than you intended.

But Fox doesn’t get up. Instead, his gaze shifts to your temple, where the bruising from the blow to your head.

“Let me take a look at that,” he says, leaving no room for argument.

You look at him, eyes wide. “It’s fine—”

“Sit up,” he interrupts, standing and motioning for you to move to the edge of the cot.

Reluctantly, you scoot forward, your legs dangling over the side as he steps closer.

Much closer.

He stands between your knees, his hands are surprisingly gentle as they cradle your face, tilting it slightly so he can get a better look at your wound.

The proximity makes your breath hitch, your heart pounding so loudly you’re begging he can’t hear it. His touch is careful, his thumbs brushing along your jaw as he examines the cut near your temple.

“This should’ve been cleaned properly,” he mutters under his breath “You clones are always too stubborn for your own good.”

“But i’m not a clone,” you mumble, your voice embarrassingly shaky even though his comment amused you.

“No,” he replies, glancing down at you for a moment. “But you’re just as stubborn.”

You open your mouth to retort, but the words die in your throat when he dips his head slightly, focusing on your injury with laser precision behind his visor. His presence is overwhelming, the sharp, clean scent of his armour mixing with something distinctly him.

“This might sting,” he warns, holding up a sterilising wipe.

You barely register the faint sting as he cleans the wound, too distracted by the way his hands move so deliberately, so gently. His thumbs brush against your skin again, steadying your head as he works, and you find yourself leaning into his touch without meaning to.

“There,” he says after a moment, stepping back just enough to toss the used wipe onto the nearby tray. His hands linger on your jaw for a second longer before he finally lets go. “That should help.”

You glance up at him, your cheeks warm, and manage a small, “Thanks.”

He straightens, his imposing frame still far too close. “You need rest,” he says firmly, though his voice is softer than before. “No arguments.”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Got it. Rest. Sure.”

For a moment, neither of you move, the charged silence stretching between you.

For a moment, you don’t think about your actions. Perhaps it was the blow to your head that made you act in a certain way. As he was about to turn and leave, you reach out and grasp his wrist.

He looks back, his helmet adorably titling to the side as you gesture him to come back by pulling his arm. And he does.

“Thank you, Commander. You’ve… you have always been kind to me.”

Then, you lean up and rest your forehead to his, eyes closed. His visor made it a little difficult but you heard his shallow gasp pop through his modulator.

But, he doesn’t move back. He lets it happen and only moves when you finally break away, a soft and nervous smile on your lips.

“Thank you.”

“G-Get some rest.” Then, with a curt nod, Fox finally steps back, his presence still lingering long after he’s gone.

And as you lie back on the cot, staring at the ceiling, you can’t decide what’s more distracting: the ache in your head or the memory of his hands on your skin.

Reblog to support your content creators ♥️

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri i @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tentakelspektakel @stellarbit @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo o @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi i @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @the-bad-batch-baroness @the-bad-batch-baroness

#fox x reader #commander fox #commander fox x reader #clone trooper x reader #tbb #star wars #commander fox x you #clone wars #the bad batch #nahoney22 writes

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kizzer55555 · 1 day ago

Text

Little Artist

So I saw this

and had an idea for Danny X Damian. Where Danny likes making various stories he publishes online. Everyone said he needed a hobby and he can’t be an astronount (or join a sport since it would be more suspicious if he left in the middle of a game or practice for a ghost attack) and Ghost Writer got him to try writing, saying it’s relaxing. And honestly? It was. Danny enjoyed making stories. Sometimes he would just type what crazy thing happened to him that day while tweaking names and a few details to not give away his identity. Sometimes he made fanfiction of some stories he liked. And sometimes he tested out making original stories, taking and first hand knowledge from various ghosts and cultures to make his writing more authentic. And after much encouragement from Jazz, he posted some of his work online.

Cue Damian coming across one of his brother’s laptops. He didn’t mean to look for long but he thought the file was for a case and wanted to know more about it. ….then he got invested.

There was an author on this sight who wrote amazing stories. The emotions captured were so vivid, and he even fact checked a few historical facts and languages used. Everything from the dialogue, to the accent, and culture. Each new story completely enraptured him.

It made his fingers twitch for a piece of paper. Some paint, perhaps charcoal?

Damian started putting heavy encryption on his computer and search history. And locked his art room up. Then came a story that truly resonated with him. An original work about a boy from a different place, trying to fit into his new reality and the new rules and expectations placed on him…worried if his family would accept him. It sounded so much like when Damian first came to Wayne Manor. And it sparked his inspiration. He spent days working on his newest piece. Trying different angles and lighting, mixing colors. It looked like a collage between charcoal and watercolor, showing someone leaving a world of darkness into the light, yet this new world was unstable and strange compared to the rigid structure of his old one. When it was finally done, Damian felt like he was both looking at himself and a stranger. The character from the story brought to life.

It felt both freeing and settling, like he finally had a name for what he had been feeling. AstroBoi13’s fics always had that affect on him.

And for the first time, Damian did something he thought he’d never do. He snapped a picture of his masterpiece and sent it to the author. Quickly so he didn’t lose his nerve.

It was fine. It’s just one picture. It’s not like this would be a repeat occurrence.

#Dpxdc #dcxdp #Kizzer55555 ideas #Danny and Damian are more similar than they think.#Damian has trouble expressing himself but Danny’s writing connects to him and allows him to feel his emotions #And process them through the writing. So Damian always feels more relaxed afterwards.#It does not stop at one art piece. Damian’s art connects to Danny. He feels truly SEEN for the first time.#Like someone understands what he’ going through. This isn’t just a cool story.#This is about a kid who is unsure of his place in the world and his place in his family. Of secrets and lies and divides.#Even after Danny finishes his story. Damian still follows his writing.#Danny manages to get the young bat into various fandoms (Todd can NEVER know).#The writing and art bouncing off each other and just keeps inspiring each other. Damian hasn’t has this much *fun* since….well…ever.#It freaks the entire bat family out when one day Damian comes downstairs SMILING….Oh god. Is Tim dead?#Dead serious.

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withleeknow · 2 days ago

Text

wishful thinking. (08)

chapter eight: ships in the night

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; i’ve been told this is the angstiest chapter yet saur yk you’ve been warned, mentions of past seggsy times, oc is self-deprecating self-sabotaging, oc has an anxiety attack in this one, erhm just Big Sad overall methinks, also could've been more edited but i am a godless monster word count: 7.2k note: wt is backkkkkk!! and it's the penultimate chapter omg :( lowkey nervous about how this is gonna be perceived bc i feel like my brand is Sad™️ and i haven't properly written anything Sad™️ in a WHILE. but yeah, wt8 is yours now have funnn. also ty chessica @matchannie for proofreading!!

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Sorry, I know that comment wasn’t funny Just wanted you to love me, but I didn’t go about it right Sometimes the best advice that I can give Is to bite my lip and listen with my big fat mouth shut tight

big fat mouth - Arlie

You don’t think you can ever forget the look on his face, the hurt in his eyes when the words had tumbled out of your mouth in a panicked frenzy. The regret was immediate, but so was the damage.

Saying things you didn’t mean, watching Minho so utterly defeated that it kills you, and the deafening silence after he had walked away from you on heavy footsteps – you can’t describe how it all felt that night. It’s just… sinking, and sinking, and sinking; endlessly spiraling in an ocean of your own guilt and despair. It’s true what they say – misery loves company.

Distractions don’t work, because whenever that overwhelming dread eases by even a fraction, you’re once again reminded by the bracelet that’s wrapped around your wrist with the tiny dove charm hanging on the side. Neither of you paid it any mind the other night, that much is clear.

You know you should return it to him eventually; it’s never belonged to you and it never will. But every time you go to take it off, you can’t bring yourself to simply undo the clasp and hide the bracelet somewhere you can’t see. It lets you delude yourself into thinking that you haven’t lost him even after what you said, even after you stomped on his heart and left it bleeding where you stood.

You’d been upset, thinking that you were the only one falling, terrified that you’d crash headfirst into the cold, hard ground because there’d be nobody to catch you. And yet, when Minho told you he loved you, it provided you no relief at all. The fear magnified tenfold, taking over you until you couldn’t see straight, until it consumed you whole.

Home is something you find, and you’ve found it in him. Your sun and your spring and your home, and everything good that you can ever name.

All your life, something is always missing, an empty space that you never learned how to fill. Like when you exit a room and there’s a nagging feeling in your gut telling you that you’ve forgotten something even though all of your belongings are accounted for. Like when you lose your favorite ring, one that’s a little too loose but beloved anyway, slipping over your knuckle without your permission and disappearing forever, and you keep running your fingers over where the golden band used to be until you come to terms with the fact that it’s never coming back and you’ll spend the rest of your life mourning the loss of that familiarity.

You’ve always looked for things you lost in places you’ve never been.

You just want to go home, but you know you’ll only ruin it in the end.

The problem has never been Minho or anybody else. It’s you, and how there’s something intrinsically wrong with you. You paint the ending before there’s even a beginning. You’d rather run and hide than let yourself feel anything, because if there’s happiness then there’s going to be hurt inevitably.

You don’t want him to wake up one day and look at you like you’re a stranger, to realize that he’s wasted his time and effort, that you just weren’t worth it after all.

It’s funny how, when you’re a child, time seems to move so quickly. One minute, you’re four, maybe five years old, and your mother is refusing to speak to you because she thinks you ruined one of her bags, a large scratch running along the otherwise smooth leather surface like it’s been met with a pair of scissors or simply accumulated on her way to work and she hadn’t noticed until she got home and you happened to be in the vicinity of her anger; the next, she’s letting you relish in all your favorite desserts, cavities be damned.

One minute, you’re being rushed to the hospital with a bad case of food poisoning, your parents staring down at you as if you’re actually about to die; the next, you’re already at home, watching cartoons that you couldn’t understand but you like anyway because they’re full of pretty colors and princesses and fairies.

You don’t remember how your mother came to forgive you for the bag even though it wasn’t your fault, or what the hospital felt like or if what the doctors and nurses did to make you feel better even hurt. You only know that you wish to return to a smaller version of yourself whose memories you can’t even recall, return to a time in which you once so desperately wanted to escape from.

Now, when you’re hurt, time doesn’t pass in a blink of an eye like it used to. It stands still, sucks you down a vortex and makes you feel everything.

No one ever really warns you about growing pains, that they’re unavoidable no matter how hard you try to avoid them, that they can last a lifetime because you never really stop growing, and it never really seems to ache any less.

Hyunjin: Attachment: 1 Image. Hyunjin: i sent this one in Hyunjin: u??

You’d almost forgotten about the exhibition until Hyunjin had sent you those texts. Even though you’re not one to neglect deadlines, you suppose it’s fairly reasonable that this one in particular had slipped your mind. You haven’t really been able to wrap your head around that many things after all.

Every semester, yours and Hyunjin’s department rents out a gallery near campus for a whole week to showcase students’ works. It’s nothing exclusive, nothing like a competition where they pit a couple hundred kids against each other just for a spot at a fancy art gallery. Almost anyone in the Faculty of Arts can register before the submission deadline, and you suppose that’s another reason why you’d overlooked it so easily – because you didn’t earn it. It didn’t feel special. It was just another meaningless event to attend.

Regardless, you spent a chunk of an afternoon pondering your selection though it didn’t matter that much, almost two hours dedicated to picking out paintings you realized you didn’t love. Some you even turned out to hate, even though you could remember the pride radiating from you the moments the canvas had felt the last brush stroke. Maybe the glamor eventually wore off, the momentary high that coursed through you when you’d shown your finished works to your professors and peers, and received showers of praise in return.

The piece you chose in the end wasn’t your favorite by any means, but it was one of the only pieces you could still bear to look at without nitpicking too much. It was a painting of the waters, and you’ve always loved the waters.

You could recall the day you went to the promenade by yourself with a need to be away from everyone and everything, and an overshirt that was too light to combat the September evening chill as summer transitioned into fall. You watched the sky slowly darken after the sun had disappeared from view, watched as the buildings on the other side of the river lit up one by one until they made up for the light that retired for the day.

The thin layers made you shiver – the consequence of your poor choice in clothing that night – but there was something about sitting by the waterfront after dark, kicking pebbles around underneath your feet, and the gentle caress of the wind on your face and your hair that made the cold feel welcoming. You always thought the city was more beautiful at night, more calming amidst all of its perpetual chaos. It made you feel like you were inside a dream long forgotten, took you back to a north star that you left to gather dust on an abandoned shelf.

You could recall wanting to dive into that dream again, a dream in which you could chase a perfect version of you that would never exist and find light at the end of the tunnel, instead of returning to the reality where you always wound up suffocating in darkness. You wanted to be free, free from the noise and free from your own life despite one simple truth that you knew all too well – that you could run but never from yourself.

When you were young, it’s the moon that used to follow you everywhere. As you get older, it’s all of the things that keep you up at night.

You could recall your phone buzzing to life in your bag with Minho’s name on the screen, like a sign from the universe saying “Hey, this one’s for you. Don’t drown. You have a lighthouse.” and it was as though he could sense that you were falling, like someone had tied your heart to a rock and threw it into the very river in front of you to sink to the bottom. Your friends often said he had some sort of sixth sense when it came to you. Maybe there was some truth in that.

His voice pulled you out of it, even though he only called to ask if you wanted to come over and eat the boatload of food his mom had sent. He made you want to disappear a little less and in that moment, it was enough.

You left your hiding place to go to him, to lose yourself in stupid jokes and not-too-sweet desserts even if it was only for a couple hours. And when you returned home that night, everything spilled onto the canvas just from memory alone, from the feeling that you were desperately clinging onto with your shaking hands.

You always thought you could only run away to places. You didn’t know people could be escapes too, and somewhere along the way, that was what Minho became to you — your treasured escape, your new hiding place.

You manage to avoid everyone – with the exception of Hyunjin; you do have to see him in class after all – over the two and a half weeks leading up to the exhibition, drumming up excuse after excuse to bail whenever any of them asks to grab a bite together or just to simply hang out. If they saw you, they’d notice your puffy eyes and ask if you’ve been crying. They would ask why, and you can’t find in yourself to make up a lie believable enough for that kind of question.

You think Hyunjin has noticed. He’s a bit of an idiot sometimes, but he’s not stupid and he’s still blessed with the gift of sight. He doesn’t mention anything though, despite you showing up to almost every class with puffy eyelids. You suppose you’re grateful for that.

Minho hasn’t talked to you at all since that night. Doesn’t ask you how your project’s going, doesn’t ask you about the exhibition, barely even speaks in the group chat, not even a boring comment about the weather. What were you expecting anyway? You get it, you do.

But despite the silence, you never doubted that he would show up to the exhibition. If not for you, then he would be there to support Hyunjin.

The only person who really has an inkling that something is wrong is Jess, when you were getting ready together earlier tonight and she helped you conceal your puffy eyes. She’d tiptoed around the question before settling on asking “Everything okay?” — simple, easy, quickly dismissible if you didn’t feel like sharing.

You didn’t, and she dropped the subject because there was no point in badgering you for answers anyway.

Chan picked the both of you up afterward, and Jess didn’t have to explain anything to him when she slipped into the backseat with you instead of riding next to her boyfriend.

Now here you are, standing in a room full of your friends and peers, wearing a black dress that Jess helped you choose, and Minho is nowhere to be found. You’d spent all day pacing around, anxious at the mere thought of seeing him and even talking to him. What you hadn’t anticipated was the disappointment, the unbearable feeling in the pit of your stomach in response to his absence. You can’t tell which is worse; maybe every moment without him all sucks the same.

When Hyunjin starts whining and takes out his phone to spam Minho’s messages demanding his location (you’re thankful that it didn’t have to come to you), all he receives in return is a measly “Running late.”

And that’s it. A mere text is enough to satiate everyone’s curiosity. Well, everyone but Hyunjin, because he’s still a nagging drama queen.

Minho is running late, and to anyone else, it’s the most normal thing in the world.

But to you… it means something beyond that. Because this was him. This was your Minho. Your Minho who’s never been known for his tardiness, who’s never once broken a promise, who’s always there for you no matter what.

All you know right now is his absence, and it makes you sink.

You sink, and then you wait. Not a lot to be done about it.

You slip away to a quiet spot, a vacant hallway, to be by yourself while everyone is out there wandering around and gorging themselves on the free food and drinks. You shouldn’t be with them anyway. All you need is to wallow in peace and not be the black cloud hanging over everybody’s heads.

There’s something so incredibly lonely in the act of waiting. Waiting to board a plane, waiting in line at the grocery store. Waiting for a phone call or text message that you know won’t come, waiting for a person whom you can only hope would show up. At the end of the day, that’s what waiting is, isn’t it? It’s wanting. It’s hoping, and if there’s one thing you know about hope, it’s that it’s dangerous.

You wonder if this is how Minho felt all this time, waiting on a girl who’s always prepared to leave. You wonder if, that night, he had expected you to reciprocate his feelings. You did. You do, and a part of you wanted to tell him that you loved him too. The words were there, and yet…

It’s true that you love him, and it’s true that you don’t want to. If hope is dangerous then love is fucking terrifying.

He’d been so patient with you, so awfully gentle and quiet in the chasm of his waiting that you mistook the tenderness for everything except for what it actually was – love. Or perhaps you did know. Maybe deep down, you knew that you would’ve loved him back with everything you had, with every fiber of your being. That you would’ve let him be the only one to ever really know you, and it felt like a fear greater than you could bear.

In the end, did you lose him? Can you lose something you never had? It wasn’t a love that you let slip away; it was a what if.

You’re in a room with people who love you and yet, all you can think about is Minho. You miss him so much that it feels like someone has spliced you in two, that it physically makes you ache every second that he isn’t with you. As selfish as it sounds, you want him to walk through the door and you want everything to be okay again. You want to be back in a bubble with just the two of you and a locked box filled with words unsaid. You thought you could stay in that bubble forever, where it was safe and you could pretend that you were happy, and maybe you really were happy with him. But all things — good or bad �� must come to an end. The bubble burst, and this was the real world.

You want to undo your cruelty, want him to take back his sincerity. You want an ocean of distance between you and him, you want to pull him as close as humanly possible. All your wants are contradictions. You’re a paradox of puzzle pieces that never seem to fit together.

You want to tell him that it hurts. Want him to make it better because he’s the only one who can make it better.

But miracles rarely happen and there are no shooting stars in sight. Minho was the closest thing you got to a shooting star, burning across your night sky for just a brief moment. Blink and you could miss it. Blink and you did miss him.

Your fingers find his contact in your phone before you could stop yourself, and soon enough, you’re pressing the call button. It’s like drunk dialling, only you aren’t intoxicated. Or maybe you are; maybe you’re under the influence of his absence and how much it stings.

You don’t know why you’re calling him, don’t know what to even say when he picks up.

Thankfully, you don’t have to wonder for long.

“Your call has been forwarded to voicemail. Please leave your message after the tone,” comes the automated voice on the other end.

For some reason, you don’t hang up. You wait for the beep, then you wait some more. It’s not until ten seconds later that you find your voice, the only thing to come out of your mouth is a quiet Hey.

You clear your throat, rub the sweaty palm of your free hand on your dress. “Hey,” you try again. “It’s… me. I’m at the gallery with everyone. Uhm, they’re all waiting for you. Are you on your way? Are you stuck in traffic? Or did you forget it was today? Hyunjin is trying really hard not to blow up your phone–” You pause to chuckle dryly. “But you know it would mean a lot to him to have you here. It… it’d mean a lot to me too if you were here. I don’t know, I assumed you’d come. I’m sorry, that was stupid of me. I just…” Another pause. This time, it’s so that you could take a breath. “Listen, Minho, I didn’t mean what I said to you. I’m sorry I was an asshole. I’m sorry that I hurt you, I don’t have any excuse for that. You deserve better than me. It’s going to pass, you know? I’m sorry if you’ve wasted your time on me, but… you’re going to find someone else, and you’re going to get over it. I’m sorry I fucked everything up. It’s fine if you never want to talk to me again, just please don’t let it get between you and our fr–”

The line beeps again. “To replay the message, press 1. To save the message, press 2. To delete the message, press 3.”

You purse your lips together. There’s still a lump in your throat and no peace to be made. It’s like drunk dialling, only you pull yourself together at the very last second. Your thumb hovers over the dial pad on your phone until you eventually end up on 3, because your cowardice will always triumph in the end. Back to square one. Everything’s still the same as it was five minutes ago.

You force your legs to move, like how you'd force yourself to get up and eat and drink water and shower and be a person these days. When you round the corner, you bump against something solid. A person. The collision isn’t hard enough to knock you backward; they weren’t moving, they’d only been standing still.

You look up at Seungmin, who merely blinks at you. You don’t know how long he’s been here, if he heard anything at all. You swallow once, considering whether you should just play dumb and gauge his reaction or ask point blank if you’ve been caught. He beats you to the decision though.

“You and Minho,” Seungmin says, a bit hesitant, like the topic is weird to bring up. “You’re the girl.”

A deer in headlights, you are. A pathetic one at that, too.

But even then, you’re not panicked, not really. You’re just sad, and the truth was bound to come out eventually.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” you say.

The discarded voicemail that he overheard, the dejection written all over your face, the silence from both you and Minho recently — it’s obvious to pretty much everyone, and Seungmin is smarter than most.

He opens his mouth and shuts it again like he’s choosing his words. The Seungmin-esque blank stare melting away to make space for some pity, then a question, “Is there anything left to tell?”

You escape to the empty garden in the back where there were a few lonely chairs set up, so you could have some privacy to talk. Despite everything, it feels like you’ve got a little breathing space, just being able to share this with someone. To not have to carry it all on your own. You’re glad that it was Seungmin who found out first. You have a feeling that he would understand, at least to some degree. You’re relieved, even when the first question that he asks is, “So, how did you fuck it up?”

“Why do you just automatically assume it was me?” You’re mildly offended, even though he’s right.

“Between you and Minho, I’d bet on you.” Seungmin shrugs. “You spook easily.”

“I deeply resent that notion.”

He turns to look at you, no trace of any teasing. “Can you prove me wrong?”

But you can’t, and it tells him as much when you avert his eyes in favor of the ground, where you kick at a lonesome pebble sitting among the grass. It lands somewhere between the green blades, lost in the shadows that cast over parts of the garden that are poorly lit.

“So what happened?” he asks, turning away again to stare out at the empty space. You like to think of it as him giving you some elbow room, to ease the pressure of being scrutinized. And as much as you appreciate it, it still takes you another brief moment before you can formulate a coherent sentence, another minute of twiddling your fingers in your lap.

You tell Seungmin about your first night with Minho – not the details, of course; that would be weird and it’s none of his business. Just that it happened, how you both let it keep happening over the past few months while nobody suspected a thing.

Seungmin nods solemnly, like he’s putting together the missing pieces.

“Did you ever notice anything?” you ask.

“I mean… not about you hooking up, but we thought you’d end up together eventually.” He shrugs. “We always kinda assumed that you two would become those people who make a pact to get married if you’re still single by 40 or 50, if you didn’t get together before then. It makes sense. You and Minho just sort of make sense.”

“Oh,” you say. Your heart swoops. Hearing it from Seungmin makes you sad. Not the same brand of sadness that you’ve been wearing lately though. A different kind, the kind of sadness that’s a little numbing and makes it difficult to breathe. “Well, sorry to disappoint everyone but I don’t think any of it is gonna happen anymore.”

“So… how did it happen?” Seungmin asks again, mimicking explosions with his hands.

You let him off easy without a punch in the shoulder, because you just really don’t have the energy for it right now. “Minho wanted something more,” you tell your friend, fiddling with the rings on your fingers, then with the necklace charm resting on your collarbone. “And I just… I don’t know. I guess I freaked. I… said some awful stuff to him.”

Seungmin hums a sound of acknowledgement. He looks like he’s thinking about it, about you and Minho and what it means. “Classic,” he chuckles after a brief moment, mostly to himself. Maybe he’s thinking about what it means beyond just the pair of you too.

You side-eye him. “You’d know all about it, wouldn’t you?”

He shoots the glance back at you. “What are you trying to say here?”

You remember her, the only girl that Seungmin has ever hinted at liking. He never admitted it out loud to any of you, but you could all see it.

You only used to see her in passing at house parties, and even then, it wasn’t Seungmin nor her who brought the other one around. They would show up separately with their own group, mingle for a while, find each other after a couple of drinks before they disappeared to god-knows-where for the rest of the night. Sometimes, Changbin or Hyunjin would catch them before they could sneak off and insist that Seungmin let everyone get to know his friend.

These brief interactions are all you have with her, meaningless small talk for a few minutes before Seungmin’s patience ran thin and he whisked her away like they’d both intended. You liked her; she was nice, and she was really pretty. You liked her even though you didn’t know her, because she was the one person who Seungmin cared about enough to keep away from prying eyes. A secret shared only between the two of them, a bubble in which only they existed.

The last time you saw her with him must’ve been at least three months ago, maybe even longer. No one really knows what happened, just that she stopped showing up to parties, and Seungmin never brought it up again. You all assumed whatever he had going on with her had run its course, though it doesn’t really stop Hyunjin and Jisung from mentioning her every now and again just to tease him.

“I seem to recall a Halloween party last year and a certain someone was in a bee costume and–”

“Fine,” Seungmin interjects, rolling his eyes. “Fine, we can form our own dumbass club. Happy?”

You laugh a little, even though the whole thing isn’t very funny. Your shared experience is nothing to take pride in.

“So how did you blow it up?” you ask.

He gives you a sour glare before his eyes soften. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and in his silence you find that you and him are more similar in ways that you’ve never cared enough to admit before. This sadness that you carry, you have a feeling that he knows it all too well.

“Like I said, classic,” Seungmin tells you. “She wanted something more. I freaked. I ghosted her.”

A mirror. Two sides of the same stupid coin.

You lean back against your seat. “Did you like her?”

It takes a beat, but his answer comes out as an honest, “Yeah, I liked her. Liked her too much.”

“Why did you do that to her then?”

“Why did you do that to Minho?” Seungmin deadpans, but he doesn’t seem to want a response from you. He just sighs, wistfully adding, “I’ve thought about it a lot. It’s scary to be wanted because it means someone’s putting you on a pedestal, and when you’re on a pedestal, the more it’ll hurt if you fall off. The more they’re counting on you to not let them down, the easier it is to fuck it all up. People like us, we’re flight risks. We can’t help it. We think it’s better to just leave before we can do any real damage. When you said whatever terrible shit you said to Minho, that was the first thing you thought about, right? To be cruel? That’s what I did too. Such a fucking stupid knee-jerk reaction.”

You don’t know how to respond, so you just sit there, completely still.

Then Seungmin turns to you, and for the first time in all the years that you’ve known him, he’s looking at you, really looking at you. No snarky side-eye, no playful faux glare. Just a strange and unfamiliar sincerity, like he’s asking you to fix what he couldn’t, undo the cruelty that he never bothered apologizing for.

“Minho would understand, you know? If you’d just talk to him,” Seungmin says. “You made a mistake in the heat of the moment. But you want to have something real with him, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t be here talking to me about this and beating yourself up over it.”

“I told you. That ship sailed.” And you’re standing up for no apparent reason other than the fact that you’re suddenly restless, your stomach twisting in knots out of nowhere. “He’s not even here. He didn’t even show up tonight. I think that’s saying enough.”

Your friend rises to his feet too, probably because he thinks it’s weird to be the only one sitting now while you’re upset and pacing about. It’s not until Seungmin takes a step closer that you realize you’re shaking a little.

“Hey, you good?” He puts a hand on your shoulder. “I talked to Minho yesterday. He said he’d come. Maybe something came up or he just–”

Hyunjin’s voice interrupts Seungmin in the middle of his sentence, the excited squeal carrying itself from all the way inside the gallery to the back garden through the door left ajar. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, maybe there’s a reason why people say it. It’s laughable, really.

You and Seungmin both turn your attention to the brief commotion indoors, where you see Hyunjin smiling so big that his eyes have crinkled into crescent moons, where he’s standing with his arm thrown around Minho and shaking him by the shoulders.

These days, it’s easy to pretend that time is standing still. You don’t even know if time is even passing at all; you’re just looking at him, dressed in a black blazer and some dress pants. Casual but he looks good. He always does.

You watch as he says something to Hyunjin that seems to calm the latter down a bit, at least enough for Minho to quickly scan the room, searching. You watch as his eyes sweep through all the people gathered inside, not stopping until they land on you, finding you on the other side of the glass door. Even in this terrible lighting, not entirely visible you assume, he sees you.

There was a conversation you had with Minho some time ago, when you two were sprawled out on your couch munching on strawberry Peperos and not paying attention to the movie that was playing on your TV, when he asked how you wanted your life to be at 40.

You knew what the boring answer was – you wanted your life to be stable, and you told him as much. Isn’t stability always the goal? Maybe a lame corporate job if the whole starving-artist-who-makes-it-big-overnight dream didn’t pan out. A cat and a dog named Mochi and Mocha, if you could afford two pets at once. An apartment that you owned, with framed pictures of everything you loved scattered all over the place, and stupidly cute fairy lights that you often see on Pinterest, and an unfathomable amount of plushies that your inner child was never indulged in. A peaceful and quiet life, at least to some extent.

The honest answer, the one that you didn’t tell him, was you wanted to not live with regret.

But as you lock eyes with him, for a split second there, you know that you will.

About twenty years down the line, when you look back on your life and think of this chapter, you’ll think about a boy who loved you and whom you loved. How you broke both of your hearts trying to protect your own. You’ll wonder if he’s married, if he has kids, if he still reminisces about the girl he used to love when he was young. If he’s happy and if his dreams came true. If the sadness you caused yourself was worth it, if the pain meant anything at all. If you could go back in time and undo everything, would you?

You’ll get over it eventually – surely you will; heartbreak isn’t the end of the world – but you’ll live with the grief of what could’ve been if you weren’t afraid. You’ll be left to mourn the road not taken, your almost but never was.

You’re the one who moves first, when it starts to become a struggle just to breathe. You stumble away from Minho’s line of sight, until you find a wall that you can rest against.

Seungmin is quick to follow. “Hey, woah, are you okay?”

Your hands alternate between balling themselves into tight fists and attempting in vain to grab at the flat surface of the concrete. There are no words that you can form to answer him. Only your ragged breathing and your pathetic effort to take in some air through your mouth.

“Okay, shit, uhm,” Seungmin sputters. “Hang on.”

Then he’s taking off. You don’t know how long he’s gone for, where he’s gone off to, and frankly, you can’t really bring yourself to care. Your hands abandon the wall in favor of your dress, something that you can actually hold onto. Your trembling fingers clutch the hem of your dress like they’re pretending it’s a lifeline, bunching and twisting the fabric in your sweaty palms. Hoping it’ll help, but it doesn’t at all.

Even over the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears, you could hear new footsteps coming out into the empty garden. Rushed at first, then they stop for a brief moment. You know who it is before he even approaches you.

Damn that Kim Seungmin.

The familiar scent of his cologne greets you before his voice. You spent hours and hours enveloped in this scent until it was dulled by sweat from the activities you were engaged in, if it wasn’t already softened by the kisses you would leave all over his skin.

When he calls your name, it comes out so soft, like you never broke his heart in the first place and that night was only a figment of your twisted imagination. He sounds so gentle, yet it sends you further down the crippling spiral. You don’t deserve him; maybe you never did, despite what Seungmin tried to put through your head earlier.

“I’m fine.” But you know your appearance has already betrayed your words. The first thing you say to him in weeks, and it’s a lie. You’re still leaning against the wall with your arms wrapped tightly around your trembling frame and your eyes squeezed shut. It’s a pitiful sight. Even more so when it registers in your brain that it’s Minho of all people who’s witnessing it.

He doesn’t say anything else, only lets out a sigh, and then his hand is on your body, a warm palm touching the small of your back out of habit before he moves it upward to rub between your shoulder blades. “Can you breathe?”

His question makes you all too aware that there’s something gnawing inside of your chest, makes you think for a second there that you’re going to die though you know that you won’t. You shake your head with your eyes still closed, your breathing coming out more ragged by the second. You can’t even bear to look at him and absorb the worry in his eyes; you’re sure you’ll only cry if you do, and it’s the last thing you need right now.

But it turns out that seeing Minho’s face isn’t the only thing that can bring you to tears. When you feel him tug at your arms, his warmth on your bare skin, you start crying anyway and that makes it even harder to breathe. There’s not a single ounce of resistance in your body, your limbs obeying him easily when they untangle themselves around your waist to fall by your sides as he pulls you into his chest, with one hand over your sternum and his thumb rubbing back and forth. He’s careful about it too, like he’s handling broken pieces of something that used to be beautiful.

“You’re okay,” he says, but you’ve got your face pressed into the crook of his neck and your tears are staining the collar of his shirt. “You’re gonna be fine. Just… listen to me.”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to speak next.

“Name three things you can see,” he says. “You don’t have to say it out loud. Just think about it.”

You open your eyes finally, angling your head until most of your vision isn’t obstructed by the proximity of his body. Minho tightens his arm around you, and you blink away some of the tears.

Your black heels that your mom got you for your birthday a while ago.

The grass, darkened green and damp.

Him.

“Three things you can hear.”

Light chatter coming from inside the gallery.

Cars passing by on the adjacent street.

Him, the sound of his breathing.

“Three things you can touch.”

The soft material of your dress against your skin.

The bracelet, hugging your wrist, weighing you down like an anchor.

And… him.

Him, him, him.

You don’t know what reason Minho makes up to excuse you for the rest of night, but you don’t bother asking. There’s really no space left in your head to think about it twice, to care about leaving your friends or feel guilty about Hyunjin because he was so excited about today. It’s too much; all you want is to go home, get away from here.

Minho calls you both an Uber back to your place. During the entire ride, he doesn’t say a word and neither do you. And even though you mostly opt for looking out the window at the other cars and houses and people passing by, every now and then you could feel his eyes on you from the other side of the backseat.

When you arrive, he keeps a hand on the small of your back as you make your way up the stairs. When you unlock the door, you leave it open so he could follow you inside. You suppose that one is a force of habit. You’re not used to shutting the door in his face. At least, not in the literal sense anyway.

Then it returns, that gnawing feeling. A feeling far too colossal for your body to house. It sits somewhere inside your ribcage, sharp and desperate, with claws trying to dig its way out. And for the first time in maybe ever, you understand what it truly means to want something this badly. You love him, and it hurts. You love him even though it hurts.

Minho moves around the place while you remain frozen in the middle of your own apartment, as if he’s the one who lives here and you’re just visiting for the night. You let him take off your makeup (with a wipe; you’re going to hate yourself in the morning), let him help you change into clothes that you can sleep in, even let him tuck you into bed like you’re a helpless child. If he notices the bracelet on you, he doesn’t say anything. Everything is done in silence.

You don’t look him in the eye. You don’t think you can handle what you’ll find there.

But you do reach for his hand when he tries to leave now that there’s nothing left for him to do here. There’s not a single thought behind your action, just a need to have him near.

“Can you…?”

You aren’t brave enough to finish the question, your voice trailing off and the words dissipating like smoke after a lonely cigarette drag. You’re being selfish right now, you’re awfully aware of this.

Minho doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even let out a single sigh. For a second there, you think he’s about to leave you here, cold and alone, just like you had done to him. It would be nothing less than what you deserve.

But then he’s shrugging off his blazer and your heart is in your throat. When he slips into bed beside you, something hurts, the kind of ache that spreads all across your chest and makes your lungs burn.

Earlier tonight, he could’ve walked away and let you be somebody else’s burden. Your friends were all there, it’s not like they would’ve left you stranded.

You’re not really sure what to think. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t hate you, but maybe it’s just enough confirmation that he doesn’t hate you more than he loves you.

You break the deafening stretch of silence with a whisper, “I’m sorry.” You don’t know what the apology is for. Are you sorry for that night, for the things you said to him? Are you sorry that you’re only yourself, that he just had to go ahead and fall for you of all people? Sorry that you’re too much of a coward and a lost cause to love him right? You don’t know, but it feels appropriate to apologize. You owe him that much.

“Don’t…” Minho says after a while. “You don’t have to do that.”

The familiar sensation returns – the one that stings the back of your eyes, burns your nostrils and makes you all choked up. You try to hold your breath and will it away, but the first tear spills without your permission, and you can’t help the shaky inhale – close to a gasp and followed by a sniffle – that punctuates your lungs when they start protesting against the sudden lack of oxygen.

You grip the sheets so hard you think you could rip through the fabric and dig into your own palm. It’s a pathetic feeling, like a strange kind of embarrassment that you can’t quite describe. The room is deadly quiet; you know there’s no way he didn’t catch the noise.

You hear Minho shift from where he lays behind you, some rustling when he moves against the duvet and the mattress. “Don’t cry,” he sighs. And it’s still so gentle. You’ve never known him to be anything but gentle.

You bite the inside of your cheek, blinking some of the tears away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just… don’t cry.” It sounds like he’s holding something back but you aren’t sure. “Don’t cry. Go to sleep. We can talk in the morning, if you want.”

You sniffle some more, and maybe that makes Minho think he still needs to appease you even further. He reaches out finally, to brush a comforting hand against your arm. “Go to sleep. Promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You don’t know if you want to talk in the morning, because there’s nothing for you to say. All you really have is what he’s already heard – I’m sorry, like an utterly broken record. But you want him to stay even if it’s only for the morning. Even if all he’ll get is silence at best and choked up breaths at worst. Your last-ditch attempt at grasping straws, a futile effort to chase running water.

“Okay,” you tell him, and neither of you says anything afterward. The tears keep falling for a while, and at some point it tires you out enough to slip into a dreamless sleep.

When you open your eyes hours later, the sun is already up. The clock on your phone reads 7:06AM and the first thing you register is an uncomfortable dryness in your throat. Behind you, the bed is still warm. You can actually feel it underneath your fingertips when you reach out, the warmth dwindling from the side of the bed that’s been left vacant. Minho has never broken a promise to you before.

He’s gone, and you sink again.

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dumbbitchenergy17 · 1 day ago

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Where the Wild Things Are - Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve: My Enemy I Love

Plot: Wild men or monstrous infected creatures, the world is wild and ravaged by Cordecyps but some are raised in it and flourish becoming a wild thing.

Word Count: 2.8K

Pairing: Joel Miller x Platonic!Teen!Reader, Ellie Williams x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: canon-typical fighting/violence, injuries, harsh language, tw: TORTURE (BURNS), ANXIETY ATTACKS/RESPONSE, trauma from abusive mother, description of child neglect/abuse, GROSS MEN ALERT!

—————

Pourquoi ton prénom me blesse. Quand il se cache juste là dans l'espace? C'est quelle émotion, la haine ou la douceur, quand j'entends ton prénom?

It’s a bit harder braiding Lila’s hair with the cut healing on your palm but you made do. You sat on the couch while she sat on the floor between your legs playing with some toys given to her by members of the community.

“Then we took turns counting. I got to sixty-two!” She says and you smile tying the end of the one long braid with a band.

“Woah that’s pretty high,” You say smoothing out any stray hairs and she giggles at the tickling sensation.

“How high can you count?” She asks turning to face you and you smile swiping away the leftover crumbs on her puffy cheeks.

“Definitely not that high,” You say before helping her stand, “Alright all done!” You say and she runs over to the mirror in the hallway and you hear a squeal of excitement.

“I love it!” She runs back into the living room where you’re cleaning up and she crashes into you with a hug, “I love you Y/n,” It’s so innocent and you grow quiet as you hold her. You feel something churning in your stomach it was different when your mother said it with an emptiness to it that you’re used to but with Lila, it’s so genuine it feels wrong. Her small face scrunches as she reaches her hand up.

“You got an ouchie,” Her finger points at her mouth and your hand covers the partial split lip you have.

“It’s alright just an accident I was clumsy,” You say giving a smile that causes pain stretching your lips. “Come on let’s get you to meet up with your friends. Can’t keep them waiting,” Lila accepting the reason bounds to the door bouncing on her feet as you grab your pack slinging it over your shoulder. The second the door opens she’s bounding down the steps to the street excited to meet the kids she’s become friends with.

“Don’t run!” You say as she stops looking back at you following her before continuing her quick speed-walk skipping through the street. A soft smile creeps on your face, despite everything going on in this fucked up world few still saw the good, and truly the innocent still live like the world never ended. The small playground was built for the children beside the Tipsy Bison comes into view along with the sound of kids and Lila squeals rushing ahead and you let her. Reaching the fence that separates the playground from the street leaning against it watching the kids play. You catch flashes of Lila running amongst the kids playing games, a wide grin and laughter spilling freely from her. For a moment she trips landing on the mulch and you almost hop the fences but she takes the fall with stride quickly getting up and laughing it off running off to join the group. You settle back though still keeping an eye on her.

“Woah girl!” A familiar voice calls out and you see people move quickly out of the way of the quickly approaching horse to the playground. You smile seeing Red ignore her rider stopping before you letting a huff of air frustrated by your absence.

“Hi Red,” You hold out the back of your palm and she sniffs it before letting you pet her.

“She’s been extra grumpy since you’ve left the stables,” Joel calls out from atop her he also takes note of the split lip that is crusted over. You nod retrieving an apple from your pack that was meant to be your lunch and feeding it to Red who happily accepts. The sound of two other horses appear and you see it’s Tommy and Ellie on their mounts.

“Joel what the! Oh, that’s where she was heading,” Tommy trails off noticing you are there. It’s a bit awkward while you spoke to Joel since the big blowout you haven’t conversated with Tommy and especially Maria. The moment is broken by Lila’s little feet pattering over to the fence practically climbing up it.

“Horsies! Y/n it’s horsies!” She jumps on the fence and you reach over the railing pulling her up to sit on top of it.

“Lila this is Red,” You introduce your sister to the large creature, and Lila shrinks away a bit especially being this close. “It’s okay she’s not going to hurt you. She’s a big sweetheart,” You hold out Lila’s hand palm out and Red slowly leans forward sniffing her hand before pushing her snout further into it.

“See she likes you.” You smile down at Lila who shakes in excitement softly stroking her nose. Joel has a soft smile at the moment you share with your sister. He isn’t sure he’s ever seen you this soft-spoken and gentle with anyone before. While you still looked drained being around Lila brought a hint of life back into you. Joel glances at his brother and surrogate daughter seeing the similar looks that he too shared.

“I’m sure if you came back to working at the stables Lila would love to meet all the horses,” Tommy mentions and you look over at him surprised by the offer. Part of you wants to say yes, to have a reason to be out of that horse, a moment of peace of quiet.

“Please Y/n! I wanna meet all the horsies!” Lila begs shaking your arm and you steady her so she doesn’t fall off the railing.

“I don’t know…” You say rubbing the back of your neck. You would have time for yourself self but if you were gone then who would watch after Lila when your parents were home? There was never a moment when Lila was alone with your parents always being in the house. Too many fears of what could happen if you left them be, you saw how she was before they came to Jackson scruffy and dirty but here she was being taken care of…she was protected.

“Y/n!” The sharp shout sends you on alert and even the horses sense the change in atmosphere as Red gets a bit antsy until Joel calms her down pulling away. They're coming down the street is your parents. “We come back from our job and you leave the house in complete disarray?” Your mother says and you know she’s trying to embarrass you but it hurts even more that she’s lying straight through her teeth. Her sharp gaze moves to her other daughter who is held on the railing.

“Why is Lila dressed like that are you trying to get her sick, it’s way too cold to be out like this!” She scolds you practically ripping Lila from your arms.

“It’s not even cold she’s be running around—” “I don’t wanna hear it!” She spats and you can smell the liquor off her breath. She’s drunk and that only meant one thing. You were fucked when you got home.

“Let’s go.” Your father grabs you and Red makes an agitated noise. You try shrugging his tight grip on your shoulder but he only pushes you forward to move and you almost trip. It’s sudden and out of nowhere Joel coming and shoving your father away from you.

“Don’t touch her like that.” Joel growls and Tommy is immediately off his horse holding his brother back.

“Don’t tell me how to handle my kid.” Your father spits back the two men getting face to face and you know sooner or later punches will be thrown.

“Joel stop it! Let’s just take a step back!” Tommy tries defusing the situation and you shove yourself between the two men pushing Joel away and he stumbles a bit back. He has a shocked expression on his face and is almost a bit hurt.

“Joel stop,” You say shakily, “Please just don’t.” He can see what reads on your face, ‘You’ll only make it worse’. It seemed like it was pretty out in the air the relationship with your parents. There was no point trying to hide what goes on behind closed doors but they couldn’t do much if you didn’t want their help. Joel feels his anger rise again seeing the snarky look your father sends him.

“Learn to mind your business Joel,” He says before forcing you to walk away leaving Joel, Tommy, and Ellie to watch the dysfunctional and highly harmful environment you and Lila were in take you away.

“We can’t just let them leave.” Joel hisses and Tommy has to keep a hand on his shoulder as they watch you disappear down the street.

“Joel we can’t just take them,” Tommy says weakly and his brother whips around to face him.

“You know what they do to her!” Joel shoves a finger into his chest, “And you just want me to sit aside and act blind?!”

“I’m not saying that Joel!” Tommy retorts, “I care about her as much as you do…just give me time to figure something out.”

“We don’t have time,” Joel responds and his brother knows they are right. The longer they wait the possibility of the more harm you’ll end up in increases. Tommy sighs rubbing his face.

“Just give me tonight okay,” He offers and Joel bristles even having to wait that long, “Then you can go all rescue.” Joel huffs in agreement crossing his arms.

“You have until sundown.”

The door to the house slams open as your mother carrying Lila heads to her bedroom, your father shoves you into the spotless living room and you send a glare over your shoulder. He moves lean against the doorway as you hear the sound of your mother coming down the stairs. She stalks in silently an unclear look on her face.

“Mom why would you li—” Your head snaps to the right, a loud crack when her palm makes contact with your cheek. Your skin burns from it, tears well up from the contact and you can feel your split lip reopen.

“Don’t you ever backtalk to me you understand me you little shit?!” She spats flecks of spit landing on your face and you recoil back, “Who the fuck do you think you are embarrassing me in front of them. Do you know how to raise my child better?” She shoves you back and you stumble your back digs into the fireplace mantle cringing at the pressure. That’ll bruise. The rational part of you curls your hands into fists to defend yourself, but the part of your mind still wrapped around your mother’s finger tells you just to take your punishment. She notices your balled-up hands and the flash of irritation.

“You wanna hit me huh?” She goads you holding her arms out, “You wanna hit your mother come it do it. Hit me!” You shake your hands your fist still curled your nails digging into your palm, the cut on your palm screaming in pain.

“I’m not going to hit you.” You say and she scoffs.

“Oh so I’m a horrible mother who hits their children is that it!” She asks and you shake your head feeling the tears of frustration.

“I’m not saying that,” “Shut up!” She explodes and it’s silent between you two. You briefly glance at your father who stands there his arms cross not interfering. Is this what you wanted from your father, to just stand aside and let your mother harass you? Why couldn’t he be more like Joel, standing in to defend you?

“You are a fucking disappointment you know that.” She says and your throat tightens up and you shake your head making her laugh, “You don’t think that? You think you are the best there is. I should’ve let you fucking starve as a child.” You shrink into yourself at her jabs.

“Why do you think I had Lila? To replace what a horrible daughter I was burdened with.” She spats and you don’t know why that hit much worse than any insult she’s thrown at you. “Really tears you think I'll pity you?” You are shaking like a leaf, tears pour down your face and you desperately wipe it away.

“You know what...I think you haven’t learned,” She says and you can sense the malice in her tone. A shiver of fear of what she is capable of. She moves out of the living room and you see her open a drawer pulling out something, “I know something that’ll make you understand.”

You see the small box with a faded label, though it’s not something you recognize when she opens it a cold rush of water runs through you when you spot the tiny sticks. You sprint trying to get to the door when a hand snatches at your hair ripping you back. A scream rips from your throat but you are slammed against the corner of the wall and your vision goes dark.

Instant pain rushes through you and a scream tears through your throat though muffled by a rag stuffed in your mouth. The sound of the stick being pressed against your flesh and the sizzling sound and smell of burnt flesh as you thrash in what you notice as restraints. Another scream rips through you trying to arch away from the stick being pressed and held for a few seconds onto your stomach. Tears blur your vision and you're hyperventilating unable to catch your breath.

“Stop squirming!” Your mother hisses. Above you see your father sending you a sickening smile and you almost hurl seeing him palms his crotch over his jeans.

“Do you think when you’re done I can get a moment with her,” Your father says and you cry when he strokes your hair, “Call it father/daughter bonding time.”

“I don’t give a fuck she isn’t yours.” Your mother hisses and your eyes widen at the confession. She notices your reaction and smiles, “What you really thought he’s your father? God, you really are an idiot for believing that.” You thrash in your restraints another scream rips from you as the stick is pressed down against this time for up to ten seconds and you’re sure your vision went white. Your vision returns and you are gasping for air between sobs. A harsh knocks come from the door and your mother pauses and goes open the door, you use the chance to take in your surroundings. It looks like a basement with one window high on the wall that looks like the outside but low on the ground.

“The others are ready when you are.” Someone says before they speak again, “What are you going to do with her?”

“Just prepping her for tonight,” Your mother says and you’re confused about what she means by that. She reenters your field of vision, “You know I was surprised when they described the ‘wild woman from the cabin’ I had to know who they were.” Your eyes widen dramatically at that name. Only the Raiders knew of that title but—

“Understanding it now? You know when they got the jump on you that winter storm until Joel and Tommy showed up. I mean you did kill Derek’s brother and I was going to finish you off but then I realized who you were and decided on an even better idea.” She says with a wicked grin and you look at the now dangerous look of the man you thought was your father or Derek gives you, “Let you get comfortable then find a reason to allow us inside Jackson and learn everything we need to know about it. I didn’t think Tommy would let a group of strangers in but you just so happen to have Lila and all it took was one word from you and we were in.”

You thrash in your restraints snarling and she presses another stick to your flesh releasing another scream, “So now we’re going to kill everyone and then kill you.” She says before stepping back.

“I wanna thank you. The only time you’ve done some good for me daughter,” She says reaching under the table and producing a pistol cocking it back, and also grabbing a shotgun and tossing it over at Derek. “I’ll be sure to send Joel your regards before he dies. I’m sure he’d like to know his daughter in his final moments.” You freeze at the bomb just dropped. Joel…Joel Miller the man who you’ve been at odds with since the beginning was your father. It was an overload of information as every interaction, every conversation, everything was with your father… Why didn’t you notice the similarity? Did the others notice it?

‘You know she kinda reminds me of you. Not sure if that’s a good thing, you are a pain in my ass.’ You remember Tommy saying that to Joel but none of you took it seriously.

“Get comfortable Y/n,” Your mother says as they head to the door, “Get your final thoughts in order before we come back.” The room is bathed in darkness as the door slams closed. You had to get out here and warn everyone. You need to save Maria, Tommy, and Liam, protect Ellie, you had to keep Lila alive from your horrible mother, you need to warn Joel…your father.

Where the Wild Things Are Tags

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If your name is crossed out tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason. Sorry :(

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theannoyingurge · 3 days ago

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Playing with the idea that none of the bg3 villains are fully honest with Durge. Everyone is hiding some piece of the puzzle and happy to abuse the amnesia situation to their advantage. 'Cept Kressa. She's psycho, but she's an honest psycho. In another life, we might have been friends.

Ketheric is the first, most obvious example of this. He doesn't even bother to inform the other Chosen you've reappeared. (Myrkul is the god of exhaustion, so this tracks.)

Balthazar also 100% recognizes you and also doesn't even bother. To him, your amnesia means no tedious reunions with annoying Bhaalspawn who are big mad that he stole their brother's name and rib bones.

The Emperor is sometimes overlooked when piecing together Durge's history, but he admits to knowing your past if you reject him in Act 3 (stating "I know everything about you" while threatening to turn you into a puppet like Duke Stelmane). Whether or not he's posturing, he should at least be aware of your past with Gortash, considering you helped kidnap him in the first place. For evidence, see Gortash's interrogation notes, which open with "When we captured you". (Sure, this could refer to Orin, but I simply do not see these two working as a highly functional team. More on this and the timeline below the cut.) Naturally, despite traveling together for months, The Emperor wouldn't want to fill any gaps in your memory that might cast doubt on his trustworthiness or help align you with his enemy.

The Absolute might be lying about respecting you/your plan and preferring you over your replacement. I am of two minds about this. If you were attacked immediately after crowning the brain, there should be no basis for a preferential relationship. In that case, the brain is just stroking your ego and need for approval. However, I have doubts about Durge being taken down during the initial raid.** I think some time must have passed after crowning the Absolute, giving it the chance to develop a working relationship with you that it lacked with the other Chosen, which caused everything to fall apart after you were tadpoled. This also buys us time to kidnap the Emperor and bring it under the Absolute's thrall as described in Gortash's interrogation notes.

**Some of Gortash's other notes claim Durge was lost during the first raid, but his journals are full of contradictions. He leaves the House of Hope out of his memoirs entirely. He seemingly retcons history to present himself in a more favorable light, which probably includes intentionally diminishing the work of his allies (or erasing the painful memory of his nearest and dearest). In any interpretation, the brain definitely hates Gortash the most, and that's good enough for me.

Orin and Gortash paint somewhat conflicting pictures of you pre-tadpole. The difference here might be genuine (the honest perspectives of a little sister vs a business partner or lover) or it could be a manipulative game of tug of war over your budding and impressionable self image.

Now, I like Durgetash - but I like every possible interpretation of these assholes, not just the mutually reciprocated and/or sexy ones. It's conceivable to me that Gortash may have discovered Durge's crush on him via the Prayer for Forgiveness and played up their history in Act 3 as a defensive measure. Maybe Gortash always knew of Durge's feelings and used them to his advantage (Orin outright tells you this, but again, nobody listens to Orin. Sorry sis).

It's also conceivable that he knew Durge was the first to be tadpoled, considering how close their pod was to his workbench. The brain was given orders to transform the party (that were resisted several times), so Gortash's surprise that Durge still lives makes sense, assuming he even knew Durge was with them (he doesn't seem to be checking the scrying eyes at all. What kind of loser tyrant ignores his own surveillance system? I digress). His general relief and preference for them over Orin is also still valid. (I imagine he feels something along the lines of Durge being the one who got away, you don't know what you've got until it's gone, etc etc. Cue hysterical bonding as the long lost love of his life waltzes into his coronation covered in blood to save him from their psychotic sister and the poorly housetrained Netherbrain they left him full custody of. Yes he wanted full custody, but still.)

Puppy eyes aside, Gortash is a blackhearted pragmatist (he will turn on Durge if they give him the stones) and progress is progress. The first True Soul was an incredible breakthrough, and the show must go on. So just imagine the bricks he's shitting in Act 3 if Durge comes back and remembers the Wrong Things from before the nautiloid. What if they want revenge on him? Nope, not good at all. Best to position himself as Durge's only friend and most trustworthy partner. Regardless of how well he treated them before, Durge was willing to piss off Bhaal to spare his life. That's an extremely useful vulnerability right now, because he's about to ask them to do it again!

Lastly, I have no proof, but I strongly suspect that Sceleritas is fibbing about Durge's past as well. Partly because the Slayer form is severely disappointing in-game and canonically excrutiatingly painful, despite Fel claiming you've always wanted it. It honestly sounds like a way to sell an unwanted used car back to it's amnesiac owner who failed to appreciate it before. Bhaal isn't a full deity any longer, so take what you're given (and you'd better damned well like it!) I also call bullshit on tossing a coin to a beggar being the "worst" crime Durge ever committed against Bhaal (*ahem* looking at you, Gortash). Some dialogue with the Oathbreaker Paladin suggests we've tried somewhat consistently to be good in the past, and Sceleritas has a vested interest in making Durge worse, not planting noble ideas in their freshly lobotomized murder-happy brain.

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fancyfeathers · 2 days ago

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Always Prey But Never A Bird

Based on the Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling series

Previous Chapter <- Chapter Six -> Next Chapter

Taglist: @jsprien213 @toast-on-dandelioms @plsfckmedxddy @lilyalone @sydneyyyya @yandere-wishes

The halls of the museum felt like a trap of a maze, the walls squeezing on you as you walked through them, you on your now fiancé’s arm as you viewed the art galleries and exhibits and all while avoiding your family members that you spotted in the halls, but you still felt their judgment and glares, the only two who were not there were Jason and Cassandra, must have been covering the patrols and well you remember Jason did not really attend these things since his whole dying thing sort of made public appearances rather difficult for him. You spotted Dick and Barbara in the Greek and Roman art exhibit, when Dick spotted you he looked like he was about to cry and Barbara held onto his hand, keeping him from breaking out into a whole scene and panic attack. You spotted Tim holding Damian by the back of his suit jacket when he spotted you with you future husband in the modern art hall, remembering the first time he saw you and your boyfriend making out in the back stairwell of your old high school, he nearly gave him a concussion when he slammed Gabriel against the wall and threatened his life, god can only imagine what he would do now. Stephanie was with Bruce, you spotted them soon after your arrival near the entrance hall of the museum, whispering in hushed tones most likely about you. You had yet to see Duke, but you could bet he was somewhere around here, he was somewhat newer to the family, coming around when you were around ten and have been living in the manor for two or three years and he was around sixteen, but certainly he was no different from the rest of them, his tendencies just hidden better.

You stood sat on one of the benches in the European art hall, a flute of champagne in your hand as your eyes viewed over one of the paintings by Gustav Klimt, an Austrian painter, you remembered it was your mother’s favorite painting which was visiting the museum, the Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I. You felt the weight of the bench shift as your fiancé came to sit down behind you after conversing with a few colleagues of his family’s business.

“My mother would have loved seeing this again.” You said, your head not even turning in to look at him, just fixed on the painting. “My mom took me to see it in its home exhibit in Neue Galerie New York and we just sat and looked at it for hours, I was six but I have never felt more stunned at something.”

“Maybe we can invite her to the wedding… if she can come.” He said, his hand resting on top of your free hand on your thigh. “But dove… there are some people who want to talk to you.”

“Gabriel, I really don’t want to see my family right now-“

“It’s not your father.” Your fiancé’s words caught your attention and you looked at him to see him gesture to someone standing in the surprisingly empty archway of the exhibit entrance. A slight feeling of shock formed in your chest as you saw a blonde haired man in another of one of those expensive suits.

“Mr. Queen… It has been awhile.” You forced yourself to stand up and walk towards the face you knew well, the billionaire Oliver Queen, known to few as the Green Arrow, a member of the Justice League, and someone who has known you for years. “I thought you would be back in Star City, not here.”

“I’m sponsoring one of the exhibits tonight, an appearance from me was sort of called for.” He reached out his arm for you to take, glancing back at your fiancé. “May I borrow her? My congratulations on your engagement by the way.”

“Thank you, Mr. Queen, and yes you may just bring her back.” With Gabriel’s words you took Oliver’s arm and the two of you walked further into the mostly empty gallery, only a person or two lingering about but they were either drunk or two far away to hear your conversation.

“You’re not just here for the exhibit, coming across the country just for this and leaving Star City.” You spoke to him, your mind snapping back to the warning Talia gave you a few weeks prior, something was happening and it was even bigger than you thought. “This is League business, isn’t it? Who else is here?”

“You sound like your old man, you know that right?” You shot a glare at Oliver after he said that, which made him regret that comment. “You are right, at the moment it is just your dad, my wife, and myself here, a few others are on call at the moment in case anything goes south.”

“Let me guess, Kent and Allen? They are the only two fast enough to get here in time.”

“Right again, but chances are it is not that extreme, something we can keep isolated to just Gotham.” You watched Oliver look down at you and a sigh escaped his lips. “I heard about what you have been up to during these last few years, Barbara was talking about it with Dinah and Helena.”

“Now they know, great…” You sighed, now it was not long before the Bird of Prey got involved with this as well, though you doubt someone like Helena or Selina would give you much trouble, especially since Selina Kyle was friends with your mother. “Look I really don’t want to get in your way or their way, so I just really don’t want to start any trouble with any of them.”

“Trouble, you based your style off of Dinah, she could not feel more flattered.” You did in fact base your style of your suit off of the famous heroine, albeit a more modest version since your family would be more disappointed if you dressed entirely like her. “I think the press also picked up on that, that’s where Songbird came from, right?”

“Ya… I didn’t think about it like that…” You paused, you had thought it was only from the press thinking you were involved with the Batman, Robin, Nightwing, bird and bat named heroes. You had never thought that it was actually linked to the one who inspired you, your own hero and idol, Black Canary. “I thought it was just linked to, you know, my old man… I don’t think I mind it as much after hearing that.”

“I thought that would be the case.” He laughed and you felt his arm slip away from yours, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “I have been watching the work you have been doing recently, if you want to do this then you have an ally with Dinah and myself. If Gotham does not suit you, I’m sure we would be happy enough to work with you in Star City.”

“Thanks… that means a lot.” You said to him, glancing from his eyes to where Gabriel waited on the plush leather bench. “But I think I’ll stay in Gotham for a while, I have a few more things to do, but thank you, I’ll be in touch.”

______________________

You were back on Gabriel’s arm after your conversation with Oliver Queen, walking off to the main hall of the museum, your head leaning against his shoulder as if protecting you from your family approaching you, along with that there were so many people that were around you all that they prevented someone, Damian mostly likely, from making a scene.

“Congratulations on your engagement.” You heard a familiar voice chime from behind you, you both turned around to see the face of Mr. Austen, he was holding his little sister on his hip, all while wearing a pastel pink suit that she picked out no doubt. You had mentioned to Gabriel that Mr. Austen was your and your friend’s sponsor, so it was no surprise that he knew your identity. “Would you mind if I borrowed you two for a moment?”

“Of course, in private I assume?” Mr. Austen nodded to your question and you immediately knew that this was a matter that involved vigilante business. You glanced at Gabriel and tugged him forward, following Mr. Austen as he led you back through the building, past the crowds, and all the way back to the storage room for closed exhibits, an area that no doubt had a basement with all the pieces this place had which had to be kept under tight security. Mr. Austen opened the storage door with a skeleton keycard, he glanced back at Gabriel and smiled. “My company made the security for the place, one of the only reasons it has not been ransacked.”

“Big brother is so smart!” His little sister added in which drew a chuckle from all of the adults present. You all stepped into the large room and when he was about to close the door behind you all a foot stopped it from closing and your heart skipped at the sight of your father pushing the door open, her persona and face he forces for the public completely gone.

“A-ah… Mr. Wayne, now is not a good time-“

“I need to talk to my daughter.” Your father interrupted Mr. Austen and something with that ticked you off, you shot a glare at your father which made a scowl form on his face.

“I have work to do father, whatever you want will have to wait.” You looked back at Mr. Austen and nodded for him to continue. “Please go on.”

“Right… as you know my company handles most of the security in the city, including Arkham Asylum, there was a security breach, not a breakout… yet.” You watch him pull out a small case from a pocket sewn in on the inside of his suit. “Clove is handling a situation with who I assume to be the Riddler down by the Dixon Docks and Henbane, Nettle, and Foxglove are shutting down one of Black Mask’s drug trade…”

“So I’m the only one who can handle it because I am fully recovered, got it.” You paused, glancing at your father who was still listening intently to your conversation, it felt like at any moment he was going to drag you out and all the way back to the manor so you will never be put into danger again. “Two things though, I don’t have my suit and even if I did, are there any big names in there, or anyone with a grudge against me?”

“Killer Moth and Firefly have been there since you caught them last month, but besides them, Bane, Scarecrow, Two Face, and well… the Joker, but none of them have ever gotten involved with you so there is no personal score to settle there.” You swear you could see your father pop a blood vessel, but he could not say anything because while Gabriel knew your identity and knew your father knew your identity, Gabriel had no clue that Bruce Wayne was the Batman. “Then as for your suit, don’t worry.”

He waved the case up before opening it, it was a small pin, an enamel raven pin. You let him pin it onto your dress as you raised an eyebrow. “It’s a pin?”

“It’s also your suit.” You let him reach out and tap the pin twice and before you could react there was an outburst and it felt like it was a scene from a movie as the fabric formed around your body like changing fibers. You must have looked like a child in a candy store with your reaction because Mr. Austen smiled, probably would have laughed if the situation was not so serious. “Nanotechnology, something I’ve been hoping for all of you, but I have only managed to finish your suit.”

“No it’s fine, thank you, oh my god this is so sick!” You must have shreked like a little girl because Gabriel hushed you.

“There is a bike for you out back, equipment on it for you as well.” Mr. Austen gestured towards a narrow window for you to climb out of across the room and you nodded. “I’ll send you the information on your way, it seems I’m on comm lines tonight.”

“Is Miss Wayne gonna be a hero?” The little girl asked, looking at her big brother with a wide smile and Mr. Austen nodded and then to which she looked at you with the biggest smile. “You’re my favorite.”

“Thank you.” You looked at Gabriel then, pressing a small kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be back before you know it.” You then looked at your father, staring at him for a moment, your smiling fading away. “Goodbye father.”

______________________

Your motorcycle roared beneath you as you rode up north, navigating your way to Arkham Island. You were easily pushing ninety miles per hour as you were driving and weaving in and out of traffic. You drove even faster down the Robbins Bridge, not wanting to get stuck in an incident like last time. The closer you got to the Asylum the more bare the streets became and soon enough it was just you…

You wanted it to be just you…

The road lit up before you as lights from a car as it rode up next to you. You would have panicked if the car was not so painfully familiar, the Batmobile, a stupid name in your opinion but it was a cool looking car. You wondered how long it would take for your old man to follow after you after he heard Joker’s name, you just did not expect for him to be this fast.

It was no wonder that he was rushing after you, the words Joker, secretly breach, and Arkham Asylum did not sit well together. He was already protecting you, but remembering what happened to Jason when Joker murdered him was too much to risk.

Luckily your father did not try to cut you off or get in your way as you rode down the road and bridge to Arkham Asylum, only stopping when you stopped in front of the asylum, just past the gates. You jumped off your bike just as the doors to the Batmobile opened up and your father stepped out in full gear.

“Songbird, go home.” His voice was commanding and for the first time you did not hate being called that name since Oliver shined a new light upon it. You ignored his words, continuing to walk forward to the doors of Arkham Asylum, flipping him off, which you instantly regretted because he grabbed your arm, pulling you backwards, making you look at him. “I gave you an order, Songbird. Now go home.”

“You don’t get to order me, I’m not like one of your birds and bats.” You brought your knee up to his gut, which was practically nothing, but it got him to let go of you. “Besides it’s just a security check, I can handle and of these fuckers, and this is my job and case, not yours.”

“I am trying to protect you-“

“I was told to expect you when I was on my way here, Songbird.” A familiar and tired voice spoke out to you as the doors to the asylum opened up. You spotted the familiar face of the GCPD commissioner, Jim Gordan, a person you had worked with more and more over the last two years, of course this was the first time he was seeing you and the Batman together. “I did not expect you to bring Batman along. Are you one of his?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

The answers were spoken at the same time and you shot a glare at him and he frowned at you. You glanced back at Commissioner Gordon and you took a deep breath before shaking your head. “He likes to think I am one of his, but I don’t take orders from him, our tech and gear are not the same and our comm lines are completely different. He just wanted to follow along.” You rolled your eyes and stepped inside the building, your father following closely behind you. “What are we looking at, Commissioner? Break out level or something like a security camera malfunction?”

“Security camera is down in Joker’s cell.” He replied with a sigh. “My men are spread thin enough so they can’t get it back online, besides not even the asylum staff has access to the security network, I was informed that you do?”

“That would be correct, I can handle it-“

“I’ll do it.” Your father interrupted you and you scoffed as his hand came to firmly grasp onto your shoulder and he looked down at you. “You can wait outside the cell.”

“Like hell I will! You don’t even have access to the…” Your hand trailed down to your own utility belt to grab the emergency connector the the Austen Security Network, but it was gone. You looked up and it was in his hand. “Hey, that’s not yours, you can’t have that-“

“If you argue I will drag you back home, do you understand?” His tone was the same one he used when you were a child, stern and serious, as if you were going to sneak out to go to a party with your friends, that’s how he viewed you, a child, his child.

“…fine…”

“Good.” You felt yourself shrink into yourself, crossing your arms as you passed the police commissioner, your father leading you further into Arkham Asylum. “Stay close, I need to talk to you after this.”

______________________

You have never been this far into Arkham Asylum in your life, Henbane or Foxglove were normally the ones who handled things on the island, but even then this was more the territory of the Birds and the Bats, not your turf. Even half of the inmates in this place are people you have never even faced before, nor did you want to…

Bane would snap you like a twig, you were too small and nimble to stand a chance against him.

Scarecrow was not the sort you could handle, that fear toxin would only bring back bad memories of when you lived in Wayne Manor and could potentially expose not only your identity but that of your entire family. Though you did read his old reports from when he occasionally taught at Gotham University and when he was just Dr. Jonathan Crane, despite his madness he was quite smart.

Two Face, well you could stand a chance against him, he was someone you could handle, but you chose not to for personal reasons. He knew you as a child, Bruce Wayne’s little princess, and that… you were no longer that girl.

Then there was the Joker. Jason's story happened long before you arrived at the mansion, but you could see the physical and mental scars it left on him. You remember the first time you saw one of his panic attacks, his mind going back to that day when the Joker tortured and murdered him, it scared you and it was second hand.

Your father made sure you were firmly behind him as you approached Joker’s cell, making it clear that you were just going to watch and that you would run if anything went wrong. You did not know what to expect, but it was not what you saw. He was sitting on the bed in his padded cell, his arms restrained in a straight jacket, his hair was an ugly shade of neon green which was faded due to the lack of hair dye in Arkham Asylum, his eyes were wide and unblinking, it almost reminded you of a doll you would see in a horror movie, and the. There were his lips, there was a cut across his face which had the illusion of extending his smile to an unsettling degree, it was scared over but it was clear that he continued to pick at it, reopening the wound and it was scabbing over again and again. And then when he looked up at the two of you, more specifically your father, you wanted to vomit.

“Oh Batsy, you came to see me.” His voice had a high pitched, raspy, sing song tone, you already hated it. Then his eyes turned to you and a cackle escaped his lips that sent a shiver down your spine. “You even brought another one of your birds for me to play with, I had such fun with the last one and all of his screams, I wonder if she’ll scream louder.”

“You’re never going to get the chance.” Your father snapped back, not wasting a moment as he stepped into the cell, so secure it had a two rooms, one that kept the Joker behind bars and one that kept him from reaching out and grabbing someone if he got free of his straight jacket, a layer of bullet proof glass, and in that little area between the barriers was the security camera that was down.

“And I’m not one of his birds.” You snapped back to the madman as your father began to hook up the connector to the camera. “He just interfered with my case, a thorn in my side.”

“Oh but I’m sure you would scream his name, begging him to save you, oh I would love to hear that.” He laughed again, his voice ringing loudly in your ears as he mocked you. “Oh Batman, save me, save me please! I don’t want to die!”

“I’ve had enough.” You rolled your eyes, turning on your heel and walking back down the hallway of cells in Arkham Asylum. “I would rather shoot myself in the skull and kill myself then beg for him to save me.”

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gothicxreylover · 2 days ago

Note

I saw that you write Yandere and Demon Slayer and I was wondering if I could request how the yandere Hashira (if you don’t want to do them all then just Sanemi, Rengoku and Gyomei) would react to a darling who was abused in their past making them extremely skittish? The reader is very timid and is always on edge. How would the Hashira deal with such a delicate s/o?

‧.·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥

Hello thank you for your request!I couldn’t help myself and write every hashiras that I could remember. I was going to put pictures but tumblr takes forever to upload them and this is my second time trying to publish the story.

Kyojuro Rengoku

Kyojuro Rengoku was a force of nature, his passionate energy filling every room he entered. But when he met you, he immediately recognized a fragility that made him pause. Your timid, skittish demeanor reminded him of a small bird, wings battered by life but still longing to fly. It broke his heart to see how on edge you were, how you flinched at the slightest noise or avoided eye contact when someone raised their voice.

Kyojuro’s instinct was to protect you with the same fire that burned in his heart. At first, he struggled to reign in his usual exuberance, afraid that his enthusiasm might frighten you. Instead of his usual booming greetings, he softened his tone, speaking to you with a gentleness that surprised even himself.

“You’re safe now,” he said one evening, his amber eyes glowing warmly as he knelt before you. “No matter what happened before, I swear on my life, I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

Kyojuro’s yandere tendencies emerged in the way he began to involve himself in every aspect of your life. He took it upon himself to ensure you were always comfortable and protected, but his protective nature soon became overbearing. He insisted on accompanying you everywhere, refusing to leave your side even for a moment.

“You don’t need to go alone,” he said one morning as you prepared to run a simple errand. “What if something happens? I’d never forgive myself. I’ll come with you!”

Despite his intensity, Kyojuro’s love for you was genuine. He constantly reassured you with his words and actions, doing everything he could to help you feel safe. When you were overwhelmed, he would sit beside you, his warmth radiating like a comforting fire.

“Breathe with me,” he’d say, taking slow, steady breaths. His large hands would gently cover yours, grounding you in his presence. “That’s it. You’re doing so well.”

On nights when your nightmares were too much to bear, he’d stay awake with you, his voice steady and soothing as he told stories of his childhood or recited encouraging words.

“You are strong,” he would say, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “You’ve been through so much, but you’re still here. That’s what matters.”

And while his obsessive need to protect you might have been suffocating at times, Kyojuro’s warmth and unwavering devotion slowly began to replace the shadows of your past with the light of his love.

Muichiro Tokito

Muichiro Tokito was quiet and detached, often lost in his thoughts. But when he met you, something in him shifted. He couldn’t quite explain it, but the sight of your timid, skittish behavior stirred a protective instinct within him that he hadn’t known he possessed.

At first, he observed you from afar, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. He noticed how you avoided crowds, how your hands trembled when someone spoke too loudly, and how you kept your back to the wall as if bracing for an attack. The realization that someone had hurt you ignited a quiet fury in his heart.

Muichiro’s approach was subtle. He began inserting himself into your life, offering his help in small, unobtrusive ways. He’d appear out of nowhere when you needed assistance, his calm presence soothing your frayed nerves.

“Don’t worry,” he said one day when you hesitated to walk down a crowded street. “I’ll stay with you. No one will bother you while I’m here.”

His yandere tendencies revealed themselves in his possessiveness. Muichiro hated the idea of you being vulnerable to anyone else. He began following you, not out of mistrust but out of an overwhelming need to protect you. If anyone approached you, his soft voice would turn cold, his expression unreadable as he intervened.

“Leave them alone,” he’d say flatly, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The threat was clear, even if unspoken.

In private, Muichiro was softer. He would sit with you in silence, his presence steady and grounding. When you struggled to sleep, he would stay by your side, his voice quiet as he reassured you.

“I’m here,” he’d whisper, his pale eyes fixed on you. “Nothing can hurt you anymore. I won’t let it.”

Though his possessiveness sometimes made you uneasy, Muichiro’s quiet devotion slowly began to ease your fears. His calm presence was a balm to your restless heart, and in his company, you started to believe that safety was possible.

Gyomei Himejima

Gyomei Himejima’s towering presence was both intimidating and comforting. Despite his immense strength, he carried himself with a quiet gentleness that set him apart. When he met you, he immediately sensed the weight of your past. Your hesitance, your downcast eyes, and the way you flinched at sudden noises all spoke volumes to him.

Gyomei didn’t ask about your past—he believed you would share it when you were ready. Instead, he focused on creating a safe and peaceful environment for you. He spoke in a soft, soothing tone, his words laced with a deep compassion that made it hard not to trust him.

“You’ve been hurt,” he said one day, his voice filled with quiet sorrow. “But you are not alone anymore. I will protect you, no matter what.”

Gyomei’s yandere tendencies emerged in the form of an all-encompassing protectiveness. He couldn’t bear the thought of you being in danger, and his solution was to keep you close. He rarely let you out of his sight, justifying it as ensuring your safety.

“You’re precious to me,” he explained one evening as you sat together under the stars. “I cannot allow anything to harm you—not even your memories.”

Gyomei’s actions were always gentle, but his determination was unshakable. He eliminated anything that caused you distress, sometimes without you even realizing it. A neighbor who spoke harshly to you would mysteriously stop visiting. A place that brought back bad memories would quietly become off-limits.

In moments of fear or doubt, Gyomei was your rock. He would sit beside you, his large hands enveloping yours as he prayed for your peace. His deep voice was a constant source of reassurance.

“You are stronger than you know,” he said one night when you confided in him about your fears. “And I will be your strength until you find your own. Together, we will overcome this.”

Though his protectiveness sometimes bordered on overbearing, Gyomei’s love was pure and unwavering. In his care, you began to feel the cracks in your heart mend, each moment with him a step closer to healing.

Mitsuri Kanroji

Mitsuri Kanroji had always been a warm and loving person, her affection a beacon of light for those around her. When she met you, however, her love took on an entirely new depth. You were quiet and timid, always on edge, and it broke her heart to see the fear in your eyes. She couldn’t bear the thought of someone hurting you in the past—and she vowed to never let anyone hurt you again.

At first, Mitsuri’s boundless energy overwhelmed you. Her bright, bubbly personality and tendency to throw herself into hugs made you flinch, though you tried to hide it. The moment she noticed, her heart shattered. She pulled back immediately, hands clasped to her chest, her eyes wide with concern.

“I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to scare you! I just—oh, I just want to make you feel loved!”

From that day on, Mitsuri did her best to be gentle around you. She toned down her energy, approaching you slowly and speaking in soft, reassuring tones. She showered you with compliments, constantly reminding you of how wonderful you were.

“You’re so brave,” she said one evening, her eyes glistening with emotion. “I don’t know what you’ve been through, but I know you’re stronger than you think. And I’ll do everything I can to make you feel safe.”

Her yandere tendencies manifested in her clinginess. Mitsuri couldn’t stand being away from you, even for a moment. She followed you everywhere, her presence comforting but sometimes overwhelming. If you tried to leave without her, she’d tear up, her lower lip trembling.

“Please don’t go without me,” she’d plead, her voice quivering. “I’ll protect you, I promise. I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt again.”

Though her possessiveness could be suffocating, Mitsuri’s love was genuine. She wanted nothing more than to see you smile without fear shadowing your expression. At night, when you had trouble sleeping, she would sit by your side, her voice soft and soothing as she hummed a lullaby.

“You’re safe now,” she whispered, her hand gently brushing yours. “I’ll protect you no matter what. I love you more than anything.”

And as her arms wrapped around you, holding you close, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of her devotion melting away the lingering cold of your past.

Shinobu Kocho

Shinobu Kocho’s sharp intellect and gentle demeanor made her an enigma. To most, she appeared kind and composed, but there was an intensity in her gaze that often went unnoticed. When she met you, it didn’t take long for her to notice your skittishness. The way you flinched at sudden movements, the haunted look in your eyes—it all painted a picture she didn’t need you to explain.

Shinobu approached you carefully, her voice always soft and her movements deliberate. She never asked about your past directly; instead, she offered a safe space for you to exist without judgment.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” she said one evening as the two of you sat together in the garden. “But if you ever feel ready, I’m here to listen.”

Her kindness made you feel at ease, but Shinobu’s yandere tendencies began to show in the way she subtly controlled your environment. She ensured you were always within her line of sight, often under the guise of concern. If someone upset you, she’d smile sweetly at them, but her eyes glinted with a cold promise.

“Do be careful,” she’d say with a honeyed tone, her smile never wavering. “It would be such a shame if something unfortunate happened.”

Though her possessiveness was subtle, it was unyielding. Shinobu began isolating you from anyone she deemed unworthy of your trust, all while making it seem like she was doing it for your benefit. She justified it as protecting you from harm, but deep down, she relished being the only one you relied on.

At night, when the memories of your past crept in and left you trembling, Shinobu was there. She’d sit beside you, her presence steady and calming as she gently stroked your hair.

“Breathe,” she whispered, her voice like a balm. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Though her obsession sometimes showed through the cracks of her carefully maintained facade, Shinobu’s love for you was undeniable. She would do anything to keep you safe—even if it meant taking drastic measures.

And as the days turned into weeks, you found yourself leaning on her more and more, her soothing words and unwavering presence slowly teaching you what it meant to feel safe. Little did you know, Shinobu was already planning a future where you would never need anyone but her.

Giyu Tomioka

Giyu Tomioka had always been an enigma, his quiet demeanor keeping others at arm’s length. But with you, it was different. You were his solace, the person who reminded him that even someone like him could feel alive. He noticed your skittish nature the moment he met you. The way your eyes darted to every shadow, the way you flinched at sudden movements—it was painfully familiar to him.

It wasn’t until much later, after earning your hesitant trust, that he pieced together the story behind your fear. The bruises of the past lingered not on your skin, but in the way you carried yourself, the way you recoiled when someone raised their voice. It ignited a quiet storm within him—a need to protect you, to ensure no one ever hurt you again.

Giyu didn’t talk much about your past; he knew you weren’t ready to share. Instead, he let his actions speak for him. He ensured your home was secure, often checking the locks multiple times before leaving. He began accompanying you everywhere, his presence silent but steadfast. Whenever you startled, his calm voice would ground you.

“You’re safe,” he would murmur, his eyes soft yet intense. “No one will harm you while I’m here.”

But Giyu’s protectiveness slowly evolved into something darker. The thought of you being hurt or frightened because of someone else was unbearable. He began eliminating anyone who dared to disturb your peace. A rude merchant? Gone. A stranger who looked at you the wrong way? They vanished without a trace.

One evening, you noticed his knuckles were bruised, and his haori smelled faintly of blood. When you asked, his response was clipped. “It’s nothing. Just… doing what I must to keep you safe.”

Despite his intensity, Giyu was careful around you. He would never raise his voice or make sudden movements. At night, when you woke from nightmares, trembling and panicked, he would sit beside you, his hand hovering over yours as if afraid to frighten you further.

“Sleep,” he’d whisper. “I’m here. Nothing will hurt you ever again.”

And though his possessiveness grew stronger with each passing day, so did his gentleness. For Giyu, you were his world—a fragile treasure he’d guard with his life, even if it meant losing himself in the process.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi Shinazugawa was a storm of anger and raw emotion, his demeanor sharp and abrasive. But when he met you, something in him shifted. He noticed the way you flinched at loud noises, the way you shrank into yourself when someone raised their voice. At first, it frustrated him—not because of you, but because he recognized the signs of someone who had been hurt.

It wasn’t in Sanemi’s nature to tread carefully, but for you, he tried. His voice, usually harsh and biting, softened around you. He kept his distance at first, knowing that his intensity might frighten you. But the more he saw of your skittish behavior, the more his protective instincts kicked in.

“Who did this to you?” he demanded one day, his voice trembling with barely suppressed rage. You didn’t answer, tears welling in your eyes instead. He backed off immediately, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—damn it.”

Sanemi’s way of helping was blunt and straightforward. He wouldn’t coddle you, but he would never let you feel unsafe again. He made sure to be the first to step in if anyone so much as looked at you the wrong way. His yandere tendencies began to show when he started following you—at first from a distance, then more overtly.

“You don’t need to go out alone,” he said gruffly. “It’s not safe.”

He didn’t care if you protested. Your safety was more important than your independence, as far as he was concerned. And if anyone dared to mention your past or even hint at hurting you again, Sanemi’s wrath was swift and merciless.

One night, you overheard him talking to someone outside—a low, threatening growl in his voice. “If I ever see you near them again, you won’t live to regret it.” The next day, that person was gone, and Sanemi acted as if nothing had happened.

Despite his rough edges, Sanemi showed you his softer side in private moments. When you were too afraid to sleep, he’d sit beside you, his hand hovering protectively near yours.

“You’re safe,” he’d say, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Not while I’m around.”

Though his possessiveness sometimes frightened you, it was clear that Sanemi’s love for you ran deep. He would destroy the world for you if it meant you’d never have to feel afraid again. And in his own clumsy, fierce way, he began to teach you what safety and love could feel like.

Obanai Iguro

Obanai had always been quiet in his obsession with you. His sharp eyes followed your every move, not because he mistrusted you, but because he couldn’t bear the idea of you slipping through his fingers. When he learned of your past, it wasn’t from your lips—you were far too guarded for that. Instead, it was through subtle clues: your flinch when someone raised their hand too quickly, the way you hesitated to speak, and the haunted look in your eyes when you thought no one was watching.

Obanai didn’t confront you outright. He knew that his intensity might scare you. Instead, he created a cocoon of safety around you. At first, it was small things: warning others to keep their distance, subtly nudging you into situations where you had control, and keeping Kaburamaru curled around your wrist, his comforting weight a silent reminder that you weren’t alone.

But his yandere tendencies began to creep in. Obanai grew increasingly possessive, unwilling to let you out of his sight. When you flinched at the approach of an unfamiliar man in the market, Obanai acted swiftly, his hand tightening on your arm as his mismatched eyes glared daggers at the man.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his voice soft but tinged with malice. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again. Not even the memory of them.”

Over time, he began to isolate you, justifying it as protecting you from a cruel world. Yet, there were moments when his tenderness shone through—quiet nights where he held your trembling hand, his voice barely above a whisper as he promised that you were safe with him.

Tengen Uzui and His Wives

Tengen’s home was a whirlwind of noise, laughter, and affection. But when you arrived—a timid, skittish presence in the midst of their vibrancy—everything changed. The flamboyant Sound Hashira and his wives were not blind to your pain, and the cracks in your demeanor didn’t go unnoticed.

Makio was the first to grow protective. Her sharp eyes and sharper tongue were quick to cut down anyone who made you uncomfortable. “Don’t look at them like that,” she snapped at a vendor one day, stepping in front of you. “You’re lucky I don’t smash your stall for that glare.” Her fiery nature sometimes frightened you, but she always softened her tone when speaking to you.

Suma was more emotional, often crying on your behalf. “Why didn’t anyone protect you?” she’d wail, clinging to your hand. Though her clinginess could be overwhelming, she was also the first to notice when you needed comfort, holding you close in her arms and whispering reassurances.

Hina, ever the calm and nurturing presence, took charge of creating a safe space for you. She ensured you had quiet moments away from the chaos, always bringing you tea or sitting beside you in silence when words felt like too much.

And then there was Tengen. His flamboyant nature made you nervous at first, his booming laughter and confident stride overwhelming. But he adapted quickly, learning to temper his energy around you. His protectiveness, however, was unmatched. When he learned of your past, his usual playful grin vanished, replaced with an icy determination.

“They’ll never touch you again,” he said, his voice low but seething with anger. “I’ll make sure of it. You’re part of our family now, and no one messes with what’s mine.”

His yandere tendencies revealed themselves in his need to control every aspect of your life. He forbade you from venturing out alone and assigned his wives to accompany you wherever you went. Though the intensity of their protection could be suffocating, it was impossible to doubt their love for you.

One night, as the five of you sat around the hearth, Tengen spoke softly, a rare moment of vulnerability in his voice. “You’re more precious to us than you know. Whatever you’ve been through, we’ll erase it with a lifetime of love. That’s a promise.”

And in that moment, surrounded by their unwavering devotion, you felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could heal.

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