#it’s only getting more fun and unhinged and

[lavandulawrites]

could you write honkai star rail men with an escaped darling just like the genshin one but hsr version?💗

Yandere HSR Men with an Escaped Darling

Characters: Anaxa, Argenti, Aventurine, Blade, Boothill, Caelus, Dan Heng, Dr. Ratio, Gallagher, Gepard, Jiaoqiu, Jing Yuan, Luocha, Moze, Mr. Reca, Mydei, Phainon, Sampo, Sugilite, Sunday, Welt (all separate)

I had already started on this when you sent me the request anon:) This was so fun to write:) Yandere hsr scenario requests are open. Though I can’t promise I will do all the characters. Which part is your favourite and why? If you want to be apart of my taglist, let me know!<3

Masterlist

Genshin Impact version

Warnings: imprisonment, abduction, murder, violence, gore (only in Blade and Boothill’s part), threats, drugging, manipulation, stalking, delusional behaviour, Stockholm syndrome, some yanderes are more unhinged than others, mind break, female reader (though only briefly mentioned in some parts), some parts are longer than others

Word count: 9646

Anaxa

The summer breeze welcomed you with a warm embrace as you set foot outside of Anaxagoras’ home. You were finally free. You let out a silent, but gleeful laughter. Finally. After all this time. Had you told yourself from a few months ago that you would manage to escape the professor a few months later, you would have thought you had gone mad. Maybe you had? Though that hardly mattered. All the things you could do flooded your mind and your nerves buzzed with adrenaline and excitement. The possibilities were endless. First you would have to lay low as you found a way out of the city. Going under the radar of the most intelligent person on Amphoreus was no easy feat, but you would have to think of something. You would have to scrape together enough money and you would have to change your appearance, get new clothes and maybe change your hairstyle. It would be extremely difficult, but you had no other choice.

You stretched your legs out in big steps as you stepped down from the stairs that led up to his home. The stone was cold underneath your bare feet, but you didn’t care. When you reached the bottom of the stairs, the sound of someone clearing their throat broke the tranquil silence. You shot your gaze towards the sound and let out a strangled gasp. There by the iron gates, stood Anaxagoras. His posture was rigid and his hands slightly clenched before they relaxed.

You both started at each other’s for a while, before he broke out into long strides towards you.

“What are you doing?” it wasn’t really a question as one could easily see that you clearly had attempted to escape. It was obvious he just wanted to hear you admit it. Admitting your misdeeds was something he found important (especially when it came to you). He eyed you up and down with a narrow eye, clearly displeased.

When your voice failed you and you only managed to let out a tiny sound, he sighed. “Get back inside. Now” he commanded. “It seems like I might have to teach you a lesson” he clicked his tongue. “A pity really. Here I thought that you already understood that stepping a foot outside is prohibited” he guided you inside with one hand on your lower back. He locked the door with the other hand. “This will have grave consequences. You truly don’t understand how dangerous Amphoreus has become.”

“Go to my study, I will be there in a few minutes.”

Argenti

The petals of a thousand red roses rained down upon you, covering you in their embrace almost choking you. They were a sign of love, a type of love you did not want. The little stream had turned a frightened red colour and if you stared long enough into the murky surface, you were sure you could see the souls of the people he had slain with his lance. For a Knight of Beauty he could be rather ferocious towards those he deemed a threat to your beauty. They never saw it coming as even as he started at them with hatred, his words still sounded like beautiful poetry one could find in ancient texts. Argenti was delusional and his delusions clouded his judgment. Your complains and cries fell on deaf ears as he continued to shield you from the ugliness of the universe. When it came to you, he saw you through his rose coloured glasses and everything he didn’t agree with he ignored. Ignorance was bliss they said and it was some truth in that. You hated yourself for falling for his carefully crafted compliments and his romantic style. You had fallen into his web and it was all too late to get out. You were stuck.

He called your name with his melodic voice, your name sounding like a prayer. You were the closest thing he could get to Idrilla and he was convinced the goddess had personally blessed you themselves. “Oh, my love. Why won’t you respond to me pleas? Why won’t you show yourself? The world is so bleak without you. All colours have drained and the flowers have withered into nothing but ash” his desperation was like no other. Had he not forcefully taken you away from your home in the name of love, your heart would have ached for him.

You sunk down into the stream, the water cold against your skin. Your white clothing soaked up the red like a sponge and you looked more like a ghost than a living person. You had no energy left nor hope. You were but a shell from your former self. All you could do was wait for him to come with his white horse, saving you like he always did.

The rose petals clung to your skin just like he did. The thorns were scattered across your form, changing you in.

He kneeled before you with a hand over his heart. Devotion was clear in his action and his emerald eyes filled with the horrible thing that was love. Argenti would rather burry the world in roses than loose his hold on you. This was true love.

Aventurine

“Please please please! I beg of you! Don’t kill me! I will do anything you ask of and more! Just- just don’t kill me!” the man kneeled before the Stoneheart whose face was cold and devoid of emotion. He was like nothing you had ever seen, his usual self gone and replaced with something sinister. Something more akin to a monster than a human. His blonde hair still looked as soft as it always did, but you could almost see two horns sprouting from beneath the locks. The more you watched him, the more you realised that the rumours you had heard about the Ten Stonehearts were true. They were devils.

You cowered behind the divan in the hotel room. Fearing for what’s about to come. “Aventurine, please” you pleaded. You didn’t want anyone to die because of you. You shifted your gaze from Aventurine to the man who had helped you escape. He was a kind middle-aged man. He would never harm you, though Aventurine didn’t believe that. He had said that he knew men way better than you and he knew how vile their thoughts were. Your pleads fell on deaf ears as Aventurine stalked towards the man. His beautiful multicoloured eyes narrowed and his jaw tight.

“He will pay for his misdeeds. Betraying me like this. How dare you” he sneered through gritted teeth.

“I just wanted to help her! Keeping her locked up is wrong! Please you must understand this!” the man cried bowing his head as fat tears rolled down from his eyes and plopped onto the ground. “I have a wife and kids! My daughter’s weeding is next week! I can’t miss it!” his voice broke into ragged sobs. His eyes flickered up to meet yours in a silent plea. Your heart tightened and sorrow consumed you. You were just about to open your mouth when Aventurine shoved his sleek dark brown designer shoe in the man’s face.

“Don’t look at her” his usually collected tone was fiery and deadly. He turned to you as he slipped his hand in his dress jacket pocket. “Close your eyes” magenta and blue eyes softened for a second before they turned away.

“No! Don’t!” you rushed forward from behind the divan and grabbed his arm.

He only shook your grasp off him as he said “Close your eyes. Now.”

Tears were overflowing your eyes and you were shaking so violently you thought you would pass out. You sunk down to the wooden floor as you tugged at his pant leg. “Please. He doesn’t deserve this!”

“Nonsense” you couldn’t see anything through your tears, but you could hear the sound of Aventurine loading his gun. The sound was sickening. “I will make sure to send your daughter your remains.”

The bang was piercing and you could feel it in your heart. You sobbed uncontrollably as you heaved for air. You weren’t the one who was shot, yet you felt like you were dying. Aventurine crouched down and pulled you into his arms. He shushed your sobs as he gently stroked your hair. “You are okay, I promise” he whispered. Your tears soaked his expensive shirt, but you didn’t care. The only thing you felt was guilt and you were certain it would kill you.

Blade

Many thought that the Stellaron Hunter when mara struck was the most frightening version of him, but you begged to differ. The most terrifying version of Blade was when he was his usual self. His lucidity was far more disturbing than when he was clouded with the need to destroy. Blade was a man that was near impossible to negotiate with, his stubbornness unyielding. When he had made up his mind there was absolutely nothing that could change it. You had long lost count of all those who had died because of him, because of you. He was a ticking time bomb.

The air was filled with the thick and heady scent of blood and rot. The grounds were filled with more corpses than you could count. The harbour on the foreign planet was painted in red, the blood still warm. Screams were everywhere and it made it difficult to orientate yourself. With the sounds of hell ringing in your ears, you made your way towards what you thought was the way towards a ferry. Nausea washed over you in waves with every inhale and you had to force yourself to not vomit.

Something shattered underneath your sole and you gulped before hesitantly looking down. Up stared the blank eyes of a man. The left side of his skull was completely shattered and your foot was inside the hollowness were his intact brain once was. His mouth was forever frozen in a silent scream, most likely a plead to spare his life that had undoubtedly fallen upon deaf ears. It was straight from your nightmares and you wondered for a second if you had died and found yourself in hell. The rest of his body was mangled to such a degree you wouldn’t have known it was a human body unless you had seen his head. You let out a shirking scream before you quickly scrambled to the side, clutching your stomach. You head was swimming and tears flowed freely from your eyes. You looked down at your shoe that was covered in brains, blood and some skull fragments.

You ran as fast as you could. He had by no doubt heard your scream and was right behind you. You couldn’t see him in the darkness of the night, but you could hear his maniacal laughter. Blade was getting closer and closer and you felt as if you were a helpless lamb getting chased by a vicious beast.

You stumbled over a severed arm and your body came into contact with the cold ground. Your head had smashed against a slab of cement in the process, causing it to crack slightly open. Warm blood ran down your skin and down onto your hands. It hurt and you were dizzy.

Bandaged fingers reached for you and you could feel yourself sinking into the abyss of hell. Like a venomous snake they wrapped around you, forever binding you to him. Wherever you went, death were sure to follow unless you accepted his deadly love.

Boothill

The gunslinger had kept you by his side as he moved from place to place. He was madly in love and even though his flirtation gave you butterflies and his silly romantic gestures played at your heartstrings, you still wanted to get far away from him. Boothill was a man who wore his heart on his sleeves, he had been through a lot and you almost felt bad when you snuck away.

Your guilt was short loved when wherever you went, you were met with corpses with more bullet holes that you could count. The sight was horrifying and disgusting, but it followed you no matter what you did. It was clear that Boothill was not pleased with your escape and took up it out on anyone he deemed deserving.

The music that was playing in the worn down bar was a romantic jazz song. The singer sung with yearning, in a way that reminded you of the cowboy. The lyrics were desperate and pleading, a classic that was well known throughout the cosmos. You sighed as you sipped the drink in your hand. Cheap red wine. The taste wasn’t satisfactory, but you didn’t care. You didn’t really like alcohol, but you needed to get your mind of things.

You knew he was the one who entered without looking behind you. The warmth of the alcohol turned into fire in your mouth as you braced for the worst.

“Hello darlin’” his voice breathy. “Duck” was all he said. Despite being slightly confused, you did as he said. After you ducked your head against the countertop, a gunshot could be heard. It echoed through your skull and you let out a yelp. A loud thud came from in front of you and you slowly looked up. The bartender who had been previously cleaning some glasses were now slumping against the countertop, a bullet hole had pierced straight through his skull, causing his brain matter to paint the cabinets behind him. The colourful bottles were now covered in red and pink-ish grime. You froze as you tried to scream, but no word came out.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Just can’t have men looking at what’s mine” he blew the smoke from the barrel of his revolver. “Let’s get goin’. We have a long way ahead of us.”

Caelus

“Come back! [Name] I love you!” Caelus screamed somewhere behind you. You had lost your sight of him as you quickly manoeuvred through the labyrinth like hallways of the hotel. You had to quick, lest the crazed Nameless would get his hold on you.

You pushed your legs as hard as you could and you ran faster than you had ever before.

Images of the nights you had spent together and the sweet memories you had made with him flashed through your mind. You tried to shake them away. Now was not the time to go down memory lane.

A foot came out from around the corner and tripped you. You watched in slow motion as the floor came closer and closer. A hand came under your midriff and pulled you up, just in time.

He pulled you into his embrace and his arms snaked around your waist tightly as he burrowed his head in your hair.

“Don’t ever run away from me. It’s dangerous. You will get hurt” he rambled frantically against your hair. “To think I almost lost you.”

You were completely frozen as the young man continued to go on and on about all the dangers of the universe. You were so tired and you couldn’t help the few tears of exhaustion that welled up in your eyes. Unsurprisingly, Caelus mistook your tears for anxiety of caused by all the frightening stories he had told you and he began to hush you.

“Shush, it’s okay. I got you. I will never let any harm happen to you. I promise” he gently stroked up and down your back in a soothing manner.

“I love you, I love you, I love you” his mantra echoed through your skull and you couldn’t help but feel defeated. You would never escape from him, all you could do was lose yourself to the sweet dreams that came to you at night.

Dan Heng

The water was akin to a black void as it swallowed everything except the pale moonlight. The waves were harsh as they crashed into the shore, splashing water everywhere. The smell of saltwater strong as you walked against the waves. The sand stuck to your bare feet, but you did not care. You were exhausted after days of running. You had managed to escape Dan Heng’s clutches as you had stopped on a foreign planet. You had decided for a midnight walk as you looked for your next shelter. Your muscles were aching and screaming for you to rest, but you couldn’t risk getting captured. You could only imagine his light cyan eyes filled with worry as he turned the entire planet upside down looking for you. You wanted to laugh at the image, but you couldn’t muster up the energy.

You thought back at all the time you had spent together with the Nameless and your heart ached. It fluttered within your chest like a dying star and you clutched your hand over it as if to comfort it. You couldn’t let your emotions take the steering wheel. Not now. A lone seagull flew over the shore as it looked for a place to rest its wings. Your eyes wandered from the bird and onto the dark night sky. The stars were endless and you envied them as they gazed down at you, carefree and free. You could almost hear his voice as he told you about all the constellations.

“That’s the Orion’s Belt. Beautiful is it not?”

Your eyes widened at the sound. Your imagination was good, but it could not possibly be that good. “Dan Heng…?” you called out with a smaller voice than you had intended.

He didn’t answer for a while as he continued to stargaze. Horns adorned his head and his hair gently swayed in the wind. “I found you. Finally” he sighed. He sounded exhausted and you almost felt bad.

“How?” you asked.

He turned his face towards you. “Your necklace” was all he said as his gorgeous eyes flickered down to the silver necklace that rested against the upper part of your sternum. Of course. Of course he had installed a tracker in your necklace. How could you be so foolish?

“Oh.” “Why did it take you so long?” you returned your gaze to the stars. It was almost as they pitted you as they blinked down at you.

“I suppose I wanted you to know how dangerous it is without me. And considering your bruises and cuts, I succeeded” Dan Heng’s voice was as gentle as the breeze that carried the scent of the sea. It gently ruffled your hair and stroked your cheek.

“I suppose you did” you admitted defeated. There was no point fighting it.

Dr. Ratio

The famed genius was away on a seminar which had left you with the opportunity to escape from his elegant home. You had managed to break the intricate locks on the heavy front doors with the help of some good old technological malfunction. Your heart was hammering so fast against your ribs as you swung the doors open that you thought you would die from heart attack (though the doctor would without no doubt bring you back to life). You knew the security cameras would get you on film, but you did not care. Not when you were so close to getting your old life back.

Oh how you missed your boring lazy days by the window of your living room, just lazing the day away with a silly romance manga and a stupid movie on in the background. You missed the days that Veritas had called unproductive and a waste of time and brain power. There was a time you had pinned for him from the distance at the small cozy cafe you both had frequently visited. You had been over the moon when the handsome man had taken a seat at your table and struck up a conversation about the classic you were reading. He had told you it was one of his favourite for years (however you weren’t sure if that was a lie or not).

You cast a glance back at the empty manor, the newly polished hard floors reflected the orange light of the soft afternoon sun. The same colour as his beautiful eyes. The eyes that always saw through you. Should you really run?

No! How could you think such things? You shook your head as you took off in a run. You had to be quick. He would be back. You knew that the location where the seminar took place was not far away from his home. Your home, but not anymore. Your lungs screamed as you ran. The sun was warm against your bare arms. The wind played with your hair like a lover would, raking its fingers gently through your strands. It reminded you of him. You clenched your teeth together. Now was not the time for reminiscing.

You don’t know how long you ran for, but it had to be hours. Your legs were aching so much they were shaking. Blood were rushing through your head so fast you could only hear the stream off blood. Your face had reddened and cold sweat stuck your t-shirt to your skin. Your vision was blurry and your breathing shortened as you wheezed. You had only gotten so far. Ratio’s house was on the outskirts of the city and you weren’t familiar with the area. You had ran in circles and despair had started to bloom in your chest. It was an ugly feeling and you wanted nothing more to throw it up together with your lunch. You contemplated to back home, but then he would by no doubt strengthen the security. But maybe you could convince him to give you freer rains? You groaned out loud as your thoughts were at war with each other’s.

You didn’t know how you found yourself before the gates of Ratio’s estate, but there you where. He was standing in the door way, his muscular arms crossed and his handsome face unreadable. With a bowed head you made your way over the gravel and up the small steps to him: your captor. You were nothing but defeated and you wanted to turn away and run, but for some reason found yourself unable to. Something was wrong with you, that was for sure. When you were only an arm’s length away from him, his arms uncrossed and he reached on off them out.

“I am glad you took to logic and returned home to where you belong. I was worried about you” his deep voice had softened and you felt sick. “Stay with me and I will keep you safe from everything” Veritas pulled you into an embrace “I love you [Name]. Remember that. Everything I do is for you.” You however missed the smug smile that tugged on his lips.

Gallagher

Gallagher was an enigma. Everything about him was a mystery that you could only hope to unravel. His past was a puzzle with pieces you couldn’t piece together. Why you became his subject of his obsession was nothing but a mystery. He had treated you kindly, but when you voiced that you wished to return to reality, his face had turned uncharacteristically hard, his warm red eyes turned cold and dark and his lips turned into a strained line. He had only said “no” with such finality you were taken aback. After that you had spent days planning your escape. Gallagher was a smart man and despite his supposedly carelessness he was always watching.

You had managed to slip through the cracks of the window and down onto the cold ground of the Dreamflux Reef. You were wearing soft slippers in order to make as little sound as possible. You slipped past the streets quietly, making sure none of the residents saw you. Everyone knew each others and everyone trusted Gallagher, if they saw you they would without doubt tell him and bring you back to his arms. You were still unfamiliar with the streets of the Dreamflux Reef and you tried to orientate yourself as you made your way towards where you thought the lift to where the “surface” might be. You passed multiple black hound statues and you tried to shake of the unease they gave you.

You let out a sigh of relief as you reached the elevator. The lift was nowhere to be seen and you could only wait for it to come back down. The shaft was empty and you stared down at the gaping abyss. The minutes ticked by and cold sweat had begin to coat your temples. The hinges started to screech as the lift slowly but surely made its way down. You cast a look over your shoulders to be sure you were all alone. Time was running out. The lift let out a soft ding and you turned your head back towards it.

Your blood froze and your eyes widened as a pair of blood red eyes stared back at yours. Fuck. You tried to turn on your heel and make a run for it, but the gate of the lift opened and out sprung a strong hand. He pulled you back and held you still with such strength that shouldn’t be possible for a human. “Where do you think you are going?” his tone was cold and hard. Gallagher’s usually sleazy voice was completely gone. “You are not leaving me. Ever” strong arms caged you in and all you could smell, see and feel was him.

Gepard

The snowy landscape of Beloborg was unbearable. Your boots sunk into the snow making walking hard and running near impossible. The harsh wind whipped against your cheeks. Your eyes were teary due to the cold weather. Thick snowflakes fell down from the grey skies enveloping everything in a thick white blanket. It was impossible to see more than a few meters in front of you.

A yell came from somewhere behind you in the dense snowfall. You could recognise the raw and desperate voice anywhere. The captain of the Silvermane Guards, Gepard. The same man who held you imprisoned in his home for your protection.

Cold air gripped your lungs in a searing hold every time you inhaled as you started to sprint. The snow was like the quicksand in the ancient books you had read in the library when you were younger. Your earlobes were raw and icy and you were sure they would fall off. The tip of your fingers were pale and under other circumstances, you would have been worried, but now was not the time.

You rounded a corner of an abandoned house with smashed windows. A figure appeared out of the snow storm in front of you. The silhouette leaped forward and dragged you closer by your hand.

“Why on earth are you running away? Don’t you know how dangerous it is out here?!” Gepard’s voice was loud and laced with panic. His blue eyes were wide as the quickly raked over you, looking for any injuries. “You could have been killed! Do you understand?” his voice died down as he pulled you into a tight huge. “You are going back home with me. It seems like I will have to upgrade the locks” he whispered against your hair as he kissed your head. “I love you.”

Jiaoqiu

The foxian was a cunning man who was overly cautious regarding you. He had experienced much pain and suffering, which explained why he treated you like porcelain doll and why he refused you to leave his home. He had put in a lot of thought when it came to preventing your escape. He had however, not thought of the possibility that you would smash the living room window and climb out.

The sharp edges of the broken glass had pierced through your forearms and sliced them open, causing warm red rivers to run down your skin and soil your clothes. You clenched your jaw tightly shut as you jumped out and landed rather graceless on the soft grass underneath. You should stop the bleeding, but freedom was calling. A call that you couldn’t ignore.

Your legs ran as fast as they could and the pain in your arms had dulled to nothing but a sting in the back of your mind. Your eyes were wide as you scanned your surroundings for the familiar pink hair. Being caught now would by no doubt bring you more punishments than you had ever experienced and that was something you wished to avoid (naturally). Your traditional Xianzhou- style slippers slapped against the cobblestone as you rounded corner after corner. You needed to either find a Cloud Knight or a Starskiff. You abruptly stopped in your tracks as you heard the approaching footsteps coming from around the corner of the alleyway. The hairs on the back of your neck rose and you knew who was approaching. You spun on your heal and were about to take off when you heard the all too familiar gentle voice.

“Where do you think you are going?” his tender voice had a biting edge to it. You didn’t need to turn around to know he was furious. All your resistance vanished and your feet were stuck to the ground. Fury and disappointment was oozing from the foxian behind you.

You slowly turned around. His handsome face was twisted into a deranged smile. His ears were slightly pinned back and his fangs barred. You gulped at the sight.

“Not going to explain yourself?” He tilted his head slightly. His smile widened further as he took a step forward and reached for your arm. Even though he was unable to see you expression, he was able to hear your frantic heartbeat. “I won’t ever let any harm fall upon you. Ever. I cannot bear to lose you. You understand, don’t you? You wouldn’t let an old man like me suffer again, am I right?” his arms wrapped around your arms, trapping you. He inhaled your scent like a ravenous beast and you felt like those who had had the misfortune of being his prey and suffered the strike of his butcher knife. You were trapped.

Jing Yuan

People were going to die for this. People were going to die because of you. Blood would be on your hands. You would have to live with it for the rest of your life and there was nothing you could do about it. It was too late. It was too late when you had stepped foot out of the sanctuary you and the general shared. The general who was so in love with you it made him mad. He was a dangerous man.

You could hear the blood splattering in the not-so-far distance. He was close, almost breathing down your neck. You regretted ever asking for directions. You regretted escaping. The screams grew louder and the sickening sound of a claymore slicing through flesh became more audible. You prayed to whatever Aeon that might listen that he wouldn’t find you. You had hid behind a closed kiosk in the rather empty and forgotten street. You closed your eyes tightly together as you tried to steady your breathing. The cries stopped and the air fell eerily silent. Your hairs stood on end and your instincts told you to run. But where could you run? The alley was a dead end.

“[Name]. I know you are there. Please come out. I won’t hurt you.” Jing Yuan. He sounded oddly calm and it only made you more anxious.

“You are safe. I promise. You know I keep my promises, don’t you” no he didn’t. He hadn’t kept his promise when he told you, you would be able to roam freely outside of the house and away from him. It was all a lie, a lie he had crafted in the name of protecting you.

You didn’t scream, you didn’t hide and you didn’t run when he crossed the corner of the kiosk where you were crouched behind. He gently smiled down at you, revealing his charming dimples. “There you are my love. Let’s get you home” if he was angry, he didn’t show it. Jing Yuan’s soft white hair was speckled with crimson and his clothes stuck to his form soaked with blood. The scent of iron clung to him, but he didn’t seem to care. He noticed your frightened expression as your eyes raked over him and his face softened. “My apologies, you shouldn’t see me like this. How tactless of me” he scooped you up in his arms like you weighed nothing, and to him you probably did. “Let’s take a nice bath, shall we?” he kissed your cheek, blood smearing your skin and tainting you.

Luocha

Your eyes raked over the blackboard menu. The cafe had a great variety of tea and coffee and a lots of different cakes that looked mouthwatering. What to pick. You ended up with getting a cup of apple and cinnamon tea and a slice of chocolate cake. You found a table in to corner of the restaurant, hidden away but with clear view of the entrance. In case he decided to show up. You lifted the beautiful tea cup up to your lips. It’s floral design pink and red with hints of green. You tried to take a sip from the steaming hot tea, but your lips burned and you hissed out in pain. You gave it a few blows before enough sat it down again in order for it to cool. Your attention turned to the cake. It wasn’t too big nor was it too small. It was just right in size. The buttercream was fluffy and the cake spongy. You pushed the fork into your moth and sighed at the taste. It was truly delicious. You needed this. You deserved this after all the days you had been on the run from the travelling merchant.

You needed to unwind, only if just slightly. Your muscles were stiff from all the anxiety that constantly ran through your veins. If Luocha had been there he would have made your soreness disappear. He would take care of you, but that wasn’t enough. You wanted to be free, not chained to a man whose line of work was even more enigmatic than Mythus themselves. You were young, with dreams and a future ahead of you.

You held the tea had cooled down slightly and you lifted it to your lips once more. The sweet and round aroma of apple and cinnamon filled your nose as you inhaled. You took a big sip of the tea. It was just as good as you had imagined. You leaned slightly back in the vintage sofa as you continued to sip your tea. After a while you cake was finished and your tea cup empty. You decide to sit for a while to let the food digest. The minutes flew by and your eyes grew blurry. Your head started to drop, but you weren’t tired. Your arms had lost most of their strength and you struggled to grip the table as you tried to steady yourself. The cafe and the guests in, it all blurred together and all sound muffled.

In your hazy state you didn’t notice the approaching figure nor did you pick up on what he said.

“Thank you. This favour will be remembered.”

The footsteps came to an halt by your table. Your eyes were open, but your mind was somewhere far away. You had been drugged. Despite your weakened state, panic had taken over you and your breathing had turned rapid.

“Are you feeling sleepy, darling?” a soft chuckle followed. Cold long fingers brushed away a few strands from your damp and feverish forehead.

You let out a strangled whine. “You drugged me.”

“No no, I didn’t. It was the lady who owns this lovely cafe” he shushed you. Your eyelids pulled back slightly as you took in his face. He was akin to an angle, whose beauty made your heart ache. His green eyes sparkled like emeralds as he gazed down at you. “I have been following you since your little escape” he kissed your forehead, seemingly uncaring about your sweat. “You are so adorable. Sweet dreams” he kissed you one last time before he gathered you up in his strong arms. His soft hair gently tickling your cheekbones. Sleep awaited you and you could feel yourself slipping away slowly but surely, you could only dread what you would wake up to.

Moze

The shadows reached for you with boney hands. They were hungry for your flesh. You could feel him, even though you couldn’t see him. Just like he wanted. He was stalking you like a hungry wolf stalked a helpless lamb. You had rented a little flat. It was rather shabby with wires sticking out from the ceiling where lamps had hung before the landlord decided to take them down for whatever reason. The floor was creaky and you got splinters if you walked on it barefoot. It was a hellhole, but everything was better than being held prisoner by the assassin. He said it was for your own good, for your protection, but you found it hard to believe him. You weren’t anyone special so you doubted the dangerous men he spoke off would be after you.

Walking alone at night had always been dangerous (with Moze in your life or not). The Mara struck, gang members and men with evil intentions were all something to be cautious of. Though now you had to worry about the grey haired man. The streets were dark and the lamps flickered slightly. It was a shady place, one that you happened to live by. It was idiotic to be walking alone at night, but you had no choice. You were terribly hungry and all your food in the fridge had turned bad so you had no choice to take a trip to the only store that was open at this hour.

Footsteps sounded from the other end of the street, in the direction of the store. A heavy lump in your stomach formed at the sight of four haggard staggering men. The were all bigger and appalled than you and could without quickly overpower you should they want to. They had spotted you and one of them let out a low teasing whistle. It made bile rise up in your throat and fear spread through you. You had to act fast or this would be the end of you. However, before you even got to make the decision to fight or flee, a mist of black and purple appeared before you.

Faster than what your eyes could pick up, he had leaped forward and slashed through the men. Crimson blood spurted from their necks like a fountain and it rain down on Moze like warm summer rain. The sight made you sick and you had to bite your tongue in order to not throw up. He turned to face you with a determined expression. His hands were soaked with blood and the red coating coat the dim light in its reflection.

Suddenly he was in front of you. He gripped your face with his hands, for once not caring about the mess. “It’s dangerous without me” was all he said as he dragged you home. You should have known better. You would never escape him.

Mr. Reca

Escaping a Memokeeper was nigh impossible, but you would be damned should you not give it a try. It was no secret that the famed director Mr. Reca was insane. However, it was not known how far his insanity ran. He was nothing if not obsessive and his obsession with documenting memories was nothing like the obsession he had for you. Though he didn’t seem intimidating, save for his crazed eyes and unhinged behaviour, he was far from harmless. Even after all those long months of knowing him, you did not know about the true extent of his powers. Therefore you had to be extremely cautious when coming up with an escape plan. He had access to your memories and he could alter them at will (though he seemed to prefer not to as he wanted you to be just yourself, which was something you appreciated).

Your breath was ragged as you ran across the streets. You ran over the crosswalks without looking and you nearly ran multiple people over. You didn’t have time to look back. Not when freedom was waiting for you with open arms. Before you knew it you found yourself in an ally that led to a dead end. The sudden sound of a camera shutter going off sliced through the silence like a sharp blade.

“Brilliant! Truly magnificent! You are beautiful even utterly helpless! Oh am I glad I got this on camera” the energetic voice of the brown haired director made your blood freeze. In the blink of an eye he was in front of you, showing a black vintage camera in your face. “Smile darling! You are on video!” The shutter went off with the speed of lightning. “I shall call this documentary: “The Failed Escape Attempt”! What do you think my love? Isn’t that fitting?”

Mydei

The roars of the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos echoed across the ruins. The moon hung high in the black night sky, watching over you. You wanted to reach towards it, to feel her feather light touches. You envied her freedom.

Another battle cry sounded through the ruins and you picked up your pace. You had to get out of Kremnos before Mydei found you. You were running out of time, Mydei was after all a demigod whose strength far surpassed any human. He was fast, extremely so, and if he found you he would reach you before you even managed to blink.

Screams of dying titankin was getting closer, meaning your pursuer was hot on your tail. Your lungs were screaming at you to stop and the taste of blood filled your mouth. You jumped over lose stones and broken walls and you ducked between openings in the broken façade.

A red crystal appeared before you like a spear sent from the heavens above, stoping you in your tracks. You spun on your heels to run the other direction, but you collided in the hard chest that belonged to no other than Mydei. His hands were quick to take a hold onto your shoulders. The talons of his gauntlets burrowing in your flesh. You hissed out in pain as you tried to escape his grasp. He looked down at you with a deadly stare. His eyebrows were furrowed and the corners of his mouth pulled downwards in a frown. To say he was mad was an understatement. You could feel the fury radiate from his toned body, choking you in its intensity.

He didn’t say a word as he dragged you back to the room where he kept you. He steps were long and determined and you had to jog in order to keep up with his long legs. His back was tense and his muscles were strained. Multiple veins were popping out from his neck and arms, but he still controlled his grip on your forearms so it wasn’t too hard. Bruised had already started to form and it didn’t seem he noticed (or cared for that matter).

He flung the door open and threw you in. Mydei just stared at you silently before he closed the door. The lock clicked signalling the end of your short lived freedom.

Phainon

“Please come out” a twig snapped “I know you are there!”

You shrunk further into the bush. You hoped that the big boulder would be able to conceal you. Your ears were on alert and they picked up every little sound. You eyelids were peeled far back as they scanned your surroundings.

“[Name]! Where are you?” his was getting closer. His voice was loud and frantic. You could clearly hear his worry that bled through his words. You knew he would stop at absolutely nothing in order to get back what was his.

Phainon was a possessive man and his possession spiralled further out of control for each day that passed. His sweet caring façade had started to crack and underneath lurked a madman. He was still overly sweet, so much so that it suffocated you. His overprotective behaviour was overwhelming and you felt as if he was breathing down your neck every second off your waken moment, always making sure you were alright. You were confined to his home in Okhema, the holy city. His house were rather spacious, yet you felt the walls creeping in, squeezing you against their weight.

The boulder that cowered the bush was thrown away with enough force that it shattered. Deranged icy blue eyes stared unblinking down at your pitiful form. His clothes were ripped from running through the dense woods and his face was littered in small cuts. Though it didn’t seem he had noticed them. For his attention was only on you. As it always was. For Phainon it was always you. No one else could even hope to rival the intense love he held for you. His nostrils were flared as he inhaled and exhaled fast. He leaned down and kneeled in front of you. He mad himself smaller as he reached a hand out towards you as if you were a scared animal (though there was some truth in that).

“I won’t hurt you” Phainon’s voice was soft. A small smile tugged on his lips when you hesitantly took his hand. “Good girl” he gently stroked the back of your hand.

You stared down at your hand in his much bigger one, and you could see the chains tightening around your interlocked hands, forever chaining you to him.

“Let’s run us a nice hot bath. We can use your favourite soap if you would like” he spoke to you, but his words went unregistered by you. You could only watch as your freedom became further and further away from your out stretched hand.

Sampo

“Oh how I have missed you my dear!” arms leaped out from the shadows, knocking the air out of you. Your throat ran dry. How did he manage to find you in Penacony? You had left Jarilo-IV as soon as the planet opened up for interstellar travel. You had thought you would be safe. Safe from this lunatic.

You tried to wriggle out of his hold, but he was way too strong. “Let me go” you sneered.

“Nah ah! No can do! Not when I finally have you in my arms again” Sampo tightened his hold on you like a snake and he buried his head in your hair and inhaled. He let out a moan like the freak he was. Anger boiled within you.

“Let. Me. Go. Now!” you sneered louder this time. He only tsk-ed as he placed a kiss on your cheek.

“You’re so adorable when you’re angry” he snickered. He let go of you with one of arms as he reached up and pinched your cheek. “So cute!”

“I told you I never wanted to see you again. Why can’t you get that into your thick skull?!” you pulled back from his grip.

At your harsh words his smile fell and his expression hardened. His usually bright and mischievous eyes narrowed and the hand that been pinching you fell to his side. He swallowed slowly “Oh really? Is that so…” His eyes flickered from yours down to his feet and up. “You really should be kinder to good ol’ Sampo.”

“And why should I? You kidnapped me! You fucking psychopath!” you hissed through gritted teeth.

“Because your family is still in Belobog. I know where they live. I mean, of course I do, I know everything about you after all” his voice were more serious than what it usually was. He lowered his tone “It would be a shame if anything were to happen to them.”

Colour drained from your face as you stared up at him in horror.

“Just kidding! Haha you should have seen your face!” he gave you another kiss, this time longer lasting and more possessive. “But seriously though, don’t do anything stupid” he whispered.

Sugilite

The maid walked with hurried steps as she dragged you through the magnificent hallways of the mansion that belonged to one of the Ten Stonehearts. Her hold on your wrist was tight and it would by no doubt leave bruises. Her heels clicked against the dark mahogany flooring and it was a stark contrast to your hushed steps. Your socks were slippery against the newly polished floor and you had to concentrate in order to not slip and fall. Your heart was drumming against your chest.

She said nothing as she pulled you closer and closer to the awaiting wolf. The wolf who didn’t seem to ever get enough of you. He was a monster. A true beast that took on the skin of a human and lived along side them. Sugilite was a man many feared and that with good reason. He took pleasure in ruining people’s lives and he often told you about those instances over dinner (much to your dismay).

She swung the tall doors open that lead to the main living room. She bowed deeply before she fully entered. “Here she is, my Lord.”

She yanked your hand and you followed her inside. The room was dimly lit by only candles and a violet lamp that stood by the corner. The curtains of large windows that overlooked the garden was drawn open, letting the pale moonlight through. The master of the house himself was sitting comfortably in a deep velvet arm chair. His tapped his fingers against the deep purple armrest as he looked up at you. His legs were crossed and he reminded you of a king sitting upon his throne.

“Running away?” he chuckled “Not the wisest decision really…” He turned to the maid. “You are dismissed” he waved his hand.

With a bow she hurried out of the room as fast as she could without running. Sugilite’s attention was yet again on you. “Did she drag you?”

You swallowed before you shook your head. “No” you muttered. The maid had been nasty, but you didn’t want her to face any consequences. Not by the hands of someone as eager as Sugilite.

“Oh yeah? Then why is your hand all red?” he rose his brow.

Your mouth ran dry “It’s nothing.” You quickly hid it behind your back.

“I don’t believe you. Not that it matters. I needed some new staff anyway. Consider this you doing me a favour” a grin spread across his face. “Aww don’t look so beat up. You got yourself to worry about, no need to worry about her”. “I won’t take your little stunt so lightly. I have spoiled you too much” at your fearful expression he laughed. “Take a good look at the outside, because it’s going to be a long time till you will see it again.”

Sunday

You were strapped to a sky blue embroidered chair. It was antique and looked like it belonged in a museum. “You have wounded me” Sunday’s melodic voice sounded from your left. He was behind you, slightly leaning down. His hands were clasped behind his back, his back straight. You tried to tug on your restraints, but the white fabric only dug into your skin, making it red with irritation. The pleasant scent of his refined cologne (one that without doubt cost more than what you had earned in a month when you were still allowed to work) filled your nose as you breathed short breaths. The normally calming scent had now turned into nothing more than the stench of impending doom. The feathers of his wing gently brushing against your cheek and you were once again reminded of the tale of the helpless bird he had saved when he was a child. He had often referred you to said bird and he often mused over your likeness.

He had kept you in a gilded cage (both metaphorical and literally), but he had understood the need for you to stretch your legs. Boredom was the killer of the mind. Sunday had preached to you about the paradise he was building he promised you that you would get the best treatment of all. Everyday he drilled into you the dangerous of the outside world, the weak could not survive on their own after all, and for each day that passed by, the more you believed him.

Had it not been for a careless newly employed servant who had left the door open by a mistake, it would not be certain that you would ever try to escape. You had been terrified, but the allure of the outside world was too strong. You had only gotten a few hundred meters from the Dewlight Pavilion, when the familiar feeling of being watched crept over you.

It had all happened so fast. Rainbow shapes flooded your vision and something familiar yet foreign invaded your mind, taking control like one would a puppet. His voice echoed from within your mind, speaking words you could not understand. Then blackness took over and your body fell into his arms.

“I have been perfectly clear that wandering outside of the walls off the estate it strictly forbidden. Any transgressions against this rule will be punished” you couldn’t see him, but you could feel his presence like the blade of an executioner. You had been clinging to your sanity for so long, but you could now feel it slowly slipping between your grasp. An invisible blade pierced through your mind and thoughts alike, making you whine in agony. The pain was unbearable and breathing became difficult. You slumped forward as much as the bindings let you, the fabric cutting into your chest like a knife.

“It’s time you learn your place. I have shown you so much kindness, yet I get nothing back in return” Sunday was now in front of you with his hands folded in front of him. The dim lighting of the office made his face eerily beautiful. You tried to say something, but your words got stuck in your throat. His brows furrowed as if he had heard your protests (and knowing him he probably could). His mouth flattened into a thin line. “I have been nothing but mercifully, but you have ignorantly ignored it and only given me coldness in return. It is only in due time that I do this” his voice was icy and completely devoid of humanity. “Relax and the pain will be brief. I am doing this because I love you.” The familiar darkness swept over you once again.

Welt

The scent of coffee from the small coffee shop you and found yourself in was overwhelming. You had been quick to escape the Express after it had stopped on a small planet for some errands. Your eyes scanned the soundings for your captor and you sighed in relief when he was nowhere to be seen. The familiar sight of red hair made you pause. Himeko? Hope washed over you and you made your way towards her with quick steps. She was sitting at a corner table, sipping a cup of black coffee. Her eyes widened when they spotted you and she waved you over.

“[Name]?” she tilted her head in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“Himeko! You’ve got to help me! It’s Welt. He has gone absolutely mad!” the words had already spilled from your lips before you had blinked.

“Mad? I don’t think I understand…” she rose her eyebrow.

“No please believe me! He has held me captive in his room for all this time! He is fucking insane!” you took a seat upside of her and spoke with a frantic hushed tone. You looked over your shoulder from time to time, looking for the familiar brown eyes.

She sighed. “[Name], it’s Welt we are talking about. I want to believe you, but he is the kindest man I have ever met. He is my best friend and I doubt he would ever do such thing.”

Why didn’t she believe you? You blinked at her with disbelief. “I swear I am telling the truth! You have to help me!” you plead. Tears stung behind your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

She chuckled defeatedly like a mother would when her child told her about their imaginary monsters. She gently patted your hand that was curled into a fist in the table. “Don’t worry too much, Welt is a good man.”

“Listen to me! I swear I am telling you the truth!” you cried out in anger and frustration.

Her golden eyes flickered up at something behind you before they flickered back down at you.

“Thank you Himeko. I owe you one” a deep baritone rattled through your chest. Cold sweat coated at your neck and you couldn’t get yourself to turn around. If you did it would all be too real.

A big hand rested on your shoulder.

“Of course. This is the least I could do. I am sorry [Name], but I can’t help you” Himeko gave you a pitiful look.

Filled with betrayal you glared at Himeko. “How could you” you sneered though it was no more than a broken whisper. Despite your hurtful tone, she only softened her gaze.

The hand on your shoulder gave you a gentle squeeze as his thumb drew circles. “Let’s go back, love. You have had enough adventure for today” a soft kiss was pressed to your cheek.

You glanced back at Himeko as Welt led you out of the cafe. His arm was secure around your waist as if he was afraid you would fly away with the autumn wind.

Taglist:

@dimestrella @hoo-hoo @yae-yu127 @deathrespect @1mlilith @pinkvoidfishcash @justboredforreal

[formulafanfics13]

bestie oh my god im going feral for the oscar piercing story, i need you to write one about lando sooo bad the things i would give😩😩😩

Wanna see? - LN4 🔥

Masterlist

summary: lando's always been a tits guy. everyone knows it. but when his girlfriend gets her nipples pierced, something inside him just snaps. suddenly he's obsessed. can't stop touching, squeezing, sucking. and when he absentmindedly gropes her in front of half the grid? all hell breaks loose.

warnings: nipple play/obsession, nipple piercings (f), public touching, exhibitionism, deeply unhinged lando, soft dom energy, chaotic driver reactions, explicit language, zero shame, possessiveness, boob worship, mildly feral

It happened on a Thursday. A normal, quiet, post-race Thursday.

You came back from a solo day out, climbed onto Lando's lap in nothing but his t-shirt and underwear, tugged the shirt down with a little grin, and said, "So, don't be mad... but I did something."

He blinked.

Then you pulled the fabric up. Just enough. Two little bars of silver glinted at him.

His mouth actually dropped open. Like a fucking cartoon character. "Oh," he said. And then again, lower, breathier. "Ohhhhhh."

It was over after that. He became a different man. Ferocious. Obsessed. A full-on nipple slut. It wasn't just in bed. That would've made sense. But no, it bled into everything.

He'd casually reach down and cup your boobs while you brushed your teeth. Tug on the piercings while you waited for pasta to boil. Kiss them through your shirt when you were mid-conversation, eyes still on your face like nothing was unusual.

You'd be wearing a hoodie and he'd still find them. Like they were homing beacons. "Can't help it," he'd mumble. "They're shiny."

He'd hold you after sex, one hand mindlessly squeezing a tit while he scrolled TikTok like it was a stress ball.

One night you caught him talking to them. He was drunk. In bed. Laying on your chest. "Leftie's a little more sensitive, huh? But Rightie? She's a fighter."

You threw a pillow at him. He kissed both nipples as apology. Then sucked them again just for fun.

And then came the chaos.

You were at a private dinner in Monaco, some pre-event thing for a sponsor, only drivers and partners, no press, just a massive round table filled with every brand of F1 male chaos: Max, Oscar, George, Alex, Charles, Carlos.

You were perched on Lando's lap, legs thrown over his thigh, because the seating was tight and you liked the view.

You were mid-convo with Alex and George, something stupid about espresso martinis and sim racing, when you felt it.

Lando's hand. Cupping your boob. Just resting there. Casual. Except you were in a white top. And he was very clearly rubbing his thumb across the piercing.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

You went stiff.

Max noticed first. "Bro."

Lando blinked. "What?"

Max gestured vaguely at your chest. "Are you... are you fondling her right now?"

Oscar choked on his drink. George froze mid-bite. Carlos blinked. Charles was already shaking his head.

Lando just looked down at his hand. Then at your tits. Then shrugged. "They're pierced."

Max looked appalled. "So?"

"So I have to touch them."

George looked at Oscar. "Is he okay?"

"I don't think so."

"They're pierced," Lando repeated, like it was a legal clause. "You don't not touch them when they're like this."

He lifted your shirt just slightly. Just enough to show the shadow of silver glinting through the fabric. "See?"

Max groaned. "Put them away, man."

"They're beautiful," Lando said dreamily. "I think about them constantly."

You were frozen. Face hot. Heart racing. But his grip was soft. Gentle. Like he didn't even realize he was doing it.

Carlos muttered something in Spanish that sounded like a prayer. Alex was wheezing.

Oscar leaned over and whispered, "This is not our Lando."

"He's gone," Charles agreed. "Fully lost."

Lando was still staring at your chest. Then he looked up at the group. "Wanna feel?"

The table exploded. You slapped his chest. "Lando!"

"What?" he laughed. "They're pierced!"

"They are still my tits!"

"I love your tits."

"No one is feeling them!"

Max stood up. "I'm getting more drinks."

George followed. "Make it two."

Oscar looked at you, wide-eyed. "Blink twice if you need help."

You just buried your face in Lando's neck, mortified. He kissed your temple and whispered, "You started this."

You groaned. "I'm getting you a nipple piercing next."

He grinned. "Promise?"

Later that night, he crawled into bed, pulled your shirt up with reverence, "Still can't believe you did this for me."

You sighed. "I did it for me."

He licked a stripe up your left nipple. "Still."

[daydreamgoddess14]

Joaquin Torres + Royalty AU + secret admirer 💜

Yes, Em! I've been dying to write for this gorgeous man! 😍

Thirst Tweets

Royalty AU Prince Joaquin x f!Reader

Warnings: just pure fluffy fluff

Word Count: 584

Masterlist

Your anonymous Twitter account was never actually meant to be seen by him.

Sure, it had a not-insignificant number of followers - people who liked the photos, the memes, the occasional (slightly unhinged) thirst threads. It was all good-natured and harmless.

You strictly enforced a no-hate policy. No rudeness or snark was tolerated toward the - frankly gorgeous - Prince Joaquin Torres.

The account was for fun. For swooning. For maybe imagining what it would be like if he ever looked at you the way he looked at puppies or planes.

That morning, you logged on planning to post photos from his latest charity event. You already had them queued up, complete with witty captions.

But first, you decided to clear your inbox. A few replies to mutuals, a few blocks for trolls…

And then you saw it.

Sitting at the top of your inbox was a message from an account you didn’t recognize.

@SkyHighBirdie

Their profile picture was just a blurry sunset. Hardly any followers. Nothing that screamed "troll."

Hey, I just wanted to say… I love your posts. You always seem to get what he’s about. Like, beyond the titles and the dumb tabloid bullshit. It’s nice to see someone who actually cares.

You tilted your head, smiling a little. You got messages like this sometimes - sweet and earnest from other fans. But something about this one felt… different.

Also, that edit you made last week with the crown? Hilarious. I might’ve snorted my coffee.

You laughed aloud.

Anyway. Hope you’re having a good day.

You typed out a quick thank you, telling them you appreciated it.

What you didn’t know, what you couldn’t know - was that on the other end of that anonymous account sat Joaquin himself, his cheeks flushed, and a wide grin, as he waited for your reply.

He left it a few days before messaging again. The moment a kid at the hospital started putting glitter eyeshadow and lipstick on him he knew what was coming from your account, and he wasn’t disappointed.

He sniggered his way through dinner as the reply chain grew longer and more hilarious.

You should get a medal for keeping those twitter replies in check.

It’s a full time job today. Wait til he goes on vacation, then they get WILD.

He choked on his beer.

And you?

Equally wild.

Good to know.

Over time, the messages turned more playful.

What would you do if you ever met him in real life?

You hesitated.

I’d probably faint. Or kiss him. Or both.

Bold. I like it.

Your heart stuttered. You didn’t even know if @SkyHighBirdie was a man or a woman, but you liked them - the late-night jokes, the warmth, the flirting.

Until one afternoon, another DM arrived.

You ever go to the palace gardens?

Your fingers hovered above your keyboard.

I mean… no? You need an invite for that.

You should come. Tomorrow. There’s an event. Tell the guards @SkyHighBirdie sent you.

Your heart pounded. It had to be a prank?

But still, you went.

You almost turned back at the gates, but when you murmured the username, the guard only nodded and stepped aside.

You’d only taken a few steps when he stepped into your path.

The Prince.

“I -” you started, but your words stuck in your throat.

“Hi,” he said, voice soft. “I’ve been dying to meet you properly.”

A slow, disbelieving smile spread across your face.

“Hi,” you breathed, unable to stop laughing.

And suddenly, every late-night message made perfect, beautiful sense.

[simp-for-love]

Little Things

Mattheo Riddle x femReader

It’s your birthday — a day you never expect much from — but your best friend Mattheo Riddle has other plans.

Warnings: Pure fluff, friends-to-lovers, mutual pining, one perfect and caring boy

Word count: ~ 1,4k

A/N: to my sweet and absolutely beautiful angel @ur-local-wizard. I wanted to give you something warm and soft like you do every time I talk to you. Love you, be happy today and always 🩷

P.S.: Check her works. She's not only kind and sweet, but also a really talented pookie.

You had never expected much from birthdays. A few texts, maybe a cupcake from a coworker, some calls from your family. You didn't mind it, not really. You were used to being the one who planned surprises, made lists and notes, remembered everyone else's special days. All those little things made them happy. So you were glad you could bring some joy to people's lives. It just felt easier that way — safer.

But Mattheo Riddle always had other ideas.

It started with a text at 8:01 a.m.

"Happy birthday, sunshine.

Hope u got some sleep. Big day ahead."

You blinked at your screen in confusion. Big day? That sounded oddly suspicious. But you brushed it off — he was certainly just being dramatic. He always had a thing for theatrical gestures and words. Mattheo was probably going to bring you a cake with silly wish and doodle on it or sing you a ridiculously bad version of happy birthday song.

With that thought you shuffled into your kitchen to find a little white bag waiting for you on the counter with your name scribbled on it in Mattheo's awful, jagged, but heartwarming in its familiarity handwriting.

Something warm stuttered in your chest. He'd been here?

You opened the bag carefully. Inside was your favorite coffee — from the one café that managed to make it exactly right — and a note:

"I know you always say you don't care about birthdays. But I do. So drink this and don't argue. — Yours, M"

You read it twice. Then again, like the paper in your hands was just an illusion of your still sleepy mind.

You didn't know what to make of it. He was your best friend. He teased you constantly, poked fun at your bad TV taste, stole fries off your plate, send you links to the most unhinged memes with cats at 2 a.m.

But this? This was... thoughtful. Almost soft.

And it made your cheeks warm and chest tighten gently — that quiet, fluttery ache that had started happening more often around him lately. Like your heart was trying to tell you something before your mind caught up.

You didn't know when it had started. Maybe the time he shared his last bite of your favorite dessert without being asked, or when he walked you home in the rain just because.

But he kept doing things like this. Little things. Gentle things. Things that made you feel seen. And it was getting harder and harder to pretend you didn't feel anything.

You drank the coffee with a silly little smile on your lips, but still, you truly expected that to be the end of it — coffee, note, maybe a sarcastic card later in the evening.

You were wrong.

At exactly 2 p.m., Mattheo showed up at your door. His arms were full of takeout boxes, a messily wrapped gift tucked under his arm.

You blinked in surprise, opening and closing your mouth a few times before managing, "Are you—?"

"Yes," he said with a proud nod, pushing past you. "Happy birthday, beautiful. Now move. I’m setting up."

You followed him into your own living room like a confused puppy. Your eyes lingered on Mattheo as he unpacked the food, casually taking over your table like this was just a normal Thursday occurrence.

"I—, you— what is happening right now, Matt?"

Mattheo didn’t look up, too busy with setting the table up. "You're having a good day. And I'm helping with it. That's what's happening," he said matter-of-factly.

"You got me four different kinds of pasta," you exclaimed, looking at the food with wide eyes.

He just shrugged. "Couldn't remember which one was your favorite. So I got them all."

Your brain and heart short-circuited once again in his presence.

You sat beside him, the scent of garlic, basil and lemon drifting in the air, making your mouth watering. He handed you a fork with triumphant gesture and a warm container of something that smelled heavenly.

"Try the gnocchi," he said. "You'll cry."

You took a bite. And, damn him, you almost did.

Halfway through the meal, your laughter bubbled out uncontrollably. He'd gotten sauce on his shirt and tried to wipe it with a paper napkin, only smearing it worse across the fabric.

"Don't look at me like that," he said, mock-scandalized. "I made a mess for you. It's festive."

"You're a menace," you replied with a smile, not being able to stop giggling.

"And you love it."

All you managed to do in response was to blush and look away.

He let it go and didn’t comment. But his eyes lingered on you a moment longer, quiet and warm.

Later, after the food and the laughter and the truly cursed attempt at karaoke to Beggin’, Mattheo grabbed the little maroon gift box from the table.

"I debated ten different things," he said, pressing it into your hands. "This one felt right."

You unwrapped it carefully, your stomach fluttering at the idea of him thinking so much about your gift. Inside was a custom vinyl record with your name etched on the label. The sleeve was personalized with a little doodle of you — stars in hair, a gentle smile on your lips — and inside was a playlist of Måneskin songs, curated "For the softest girl with the loudest heart."

You stared at it, blinking hard, trying not to cry. "Mattheo..."

"You like it?" he asked, suddenly looking genuinely nervous.

"I— I don't know what to say," you mumbled quietly as your fingers ran on the vinyl reverently.

"Say I'm a genius."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

You looked up at him, heart hammering in your chest.

He was so close. Closer than you expected. His knees brushed yours, and his eyes — usually gleaming with mischief — were unreadable but quietly genuine now.

"Mattheo," you whispered. "It's... Why are you doing all this?"

He tilted his head slightly, smile shifted into something softer. "You really don't know, do you?" he asked gently, almost like talking to a child.

You shook your head, small and uncertain.

He reached for your hand, thumb brushing your knuckles tenderly.

"I've wanted to do something like this for you since the day we met," he said finally. "You're always doing things for everyone else. You light up every room you walk into and never even notice. You make people feel seen — and you never ask for anything back."

Your breath caught. That quiet and gentle ache in your chest intensified again.

"I guess I just wanted you to feel special. Because you are. And not just today." His voice dropped lower. "You're special to me every day."

You looked down overwhelmed, not being able to hold his gaze that was shining with warmth and softness. The record clutched in your lap, his fingers laced through yours, your heart in your throat.

"But it's too much," you trailed off quietly. "You didn’t have to do all of this. We're just—"

"Friends?" he asked softly.

You managed to barely nod.

He smiled with a hint of sadness in it. "Since it's your birthday, let me tell you a secret. I think I've been in love with my best friend for a while now."

Silence stretched. Gentle, pulsing silence.

You looked up at him slowly, feeling your cheeks burning. "Me?" The question slipped out from your lips without thinking — surprised, hesitant, maybe a little hopeful.

He laughed softly, shaking his head a bit. "Obviously you. Who else would put up with me?"

Your cheeks burned even more now.

"I— I didn't know," you whispered, still trying to process the information.

"I guess I just didn't want to pressure you," he said, free hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "But it's your birthday. And I thought... if there was ever a time to tell you, it's today."

You stared at him. At the boy who remembered your favorite band, your favorite coffee, your little throwaway comments from months ago. The boy who made you laugh when you wanted to cry. Who was loud and ridiculous and impossible — and who, somehow, made you feel like you mattered more than anyone in the whole world.

You leaned in before you could second-guess yourself.

And Mattheo met you halfway.

The kiss was soft. Sweeter than you ever thought a kiss could be. A little clumsy. A little breathless. Like he'd been waiting a long time, and didn't want to rush a second of it.

When you finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.

"So," he said, grinning like he'd just won in the lottery. "Best birthday ever?"

You laughed, heart full to the brim. "Yeah. It really is."

And he kissed you again, sealing your words with his lips.

[godoreo22]

Saja boys x Manager reader: Part 3 snippet

The closer you get the farther it seems.

"My little soda pop?" Romance read the lyric sheet over (Name)'s shoulder.

"Yup!" (Name) chirps while writing the lyrics. Romance looks at Jinu with a confused look, Jinu just shrugs. They haven't been to the over world in hundreds of years, they don't what is or can be trendy or popular.

"You're all I can think of... Every drop I drink up.... You're my soda pop... My little soda pop" (Name) sings lowly to themselves while writing.

"You know (Name) maybe you can take a break and we can do something more fun?" Romance turns their head to toward him gently with a flirtatious look in his eyes. (Name) can feel shiver go down their spine but the professional manager in them forces them to turn away with a disturbed face.

"You are so right Romance we should work on the choreography!" (Name) basically yells as they fall off the couch and scramble onto their feet.

Romance seems shocked that (Name) shut down his advances, he scowls as he hears Abby cover up a snort of laughter at romances rejection.

"Can't we just relax." Baby saja grumbles lazily while watching his ipad, only for (Name) to snatch it.

"How about, no?" (Name) asks fakely and holds the Ipad out of his reach while he's spread on the coach throwing a silent tantrum. (Name) looks around but notices someone is missing.

"Where's Mystery?" (Name) wonders only for the others to shrug and not move. (Name) looked around before seeing the balcony door open.

"Mystery?" (Name) calls out while approaching the balcony. They peak out only to see Mystery barking at a dog below whom is aggressively barking back. "HEY NO BAD MYSTERY, BAD BOY!?" (Name) scolds Mystery while pulling him back inside by the back of the collar of his shirt. Mystery whimpers and goes back to the couch with the others and sits next to Baby saja.

"Okay, back to what i was saying. My little soda pop, your guys' new song." they hand each of them their respective lyrics. "I based all your starter lyrics based on your vocal ranges and rolls in the band, we can workshop the lyrics later if necessary."

OK guys i know this is just a snippet and its been a few weeks but my new job has been a big adjustment and my knee is still healing and i just haven't had a lot of motivation but i promise that i will get this out soon, i just don't want to give myself a deadline because if i do ill rush it and i wont like it.

Taglist: @misdollface @soukoku63 @wishiwaswritingrn @a-small-tyrant @btsgangleader @@redkitsu03 @lumps-42 @strawb3rie @kaidoslastbraincell @the-unhinged-raccoon @almostuniquenerd @mizushimasssss @crescent-z @lysira340 @imaginarydreams @sparky2020sworld @strayharmony943 @

[pelawennight]

✨👻 Ghostly Welcome Wagon 🦇✨

By: PelawenNight

A Danny Phantom x Batfamily Crackfic Series

📝 Summary:

Batman sends his sons to Amity Park to vet Cass’s mysterious new boyfriend. What they find is a ghost-infested town, a teenage superhero called Phantom, and one extremely overprotective older sister with a black belt in psychology and a roundhouse kick strong enough to launch Red Hood off a silo. Danny’s sister Jazz delivers a shovel talk for the ages—and the Batboys may never recover.

💬 Author’s Note:

Hey bestie 😘

Thank you so much for all the love and support. I took my original one-shot and turned it into a full series, because how could I not?

This one's got ghost fights, Bat-boy chaos, sibling drama, and Jason Todd catching feelings after getting his ass kicked by a therapist.

I’m having way too much fun—hope you are too!

(See end of post for more notes!)

The unassuming town of Amity, Illinois, shimmered under the afternoon sun, a picture of Midwestern normalcy that belied the chaotic ectoplasmic reality hidden beneath its surface. Fields of corn stretched to the horizon, dotted with the occasional farmhouse and a smattering of forgotten industrial structures. Perched precariously in the skeletal remains of an abandoned grain silo overlooking the town, Jason Todd (Red Hood), Dick Grayson (Nightwing), and Tim Drake (Red Robin) meticulously scanned FentonWorks through high-powered optics. The silo, a relic of a bygone agricultural era, offered a wide, if exposed, vantage point over the residential streets, and the bizarre, anachronistic structure that was the Fenton residence.

Back in Gotham, Bruce Wayne was receiving real-time feeds, his typically unreadable face betraying a rare flicker of concern that had only deepened over the past month. His adopted daughter, Cassandra Cain, their usually stoic and emotionally distant sister, had been… different. Her guarded shell had cracked, revealing glimpses of a lightheartedness they rarely saw. Her smiles, once a fleeting glimpse, were becoming more frequent, openly genuine. Her phone, once a mere communication tool for mission-critical updates or quick nods of affirmation, was practically fused to her hand, constantly buzzing with messages from "Danny." They’d seen video calls where Danny, radiating an easy charm and a slightly goofy grin, made Cass laugh—a soft, breathy sound that was music to their ears. She’d even tried to teach him some basic martial arts moves over video, a sight that had nearly given Bruce a heart attack, until he saw Danny’s endearing, clumsy attempts and Cass’s patient, gentle corrections.

The Fentons, Bruce had quickly compiled, were notorious for their "mad scientist" tendencies and their penchant for accidental chaos. Their files, compiled from fragmented news reports and obscure online forums, painted a picture of brilliant, if utterly unhinged, researchers obsessed with the paranormal. It was a bizarre narrative, but one that had surprisingly impressed the usually unflappable Dark Knight when he saw how effortlessly young Danny Fenton navigated their bizarre inventions and antics during the initial Wayne Enterprises visit. He’d even witnessed a brief, bewildering video snippet that Cass had saved from one of their chats: Danny accidentally phasing through his own bed, eliciting a silent, delighted laugh from Cass that had resonated deeply with them all.

Now, with talks of Cass actually visiting this "Danny" in Amity, Bruce had dispatched his most reliable (and, Jason would argue, expendable) sons to get a read on the situation. The directive was clear: observe and report. Assess the kid, the town, and any potential threats. The Justice League, financed largely by Bruce, prided itself on global awareness and preparedness for every conceivable menace. The idea that a hidden variable—an entire town, perhaps—especially one affecting a member of his own family, could exist without their knowledge was an anomaly he couldn't abide. It was a gaping hole in their intel.

"Still nothing," Tim grumbled into his comm, his voice a low drone of frustration. He adjusted the focus on his binoculars, which were currently trained on the quaint, slightly tilted house labeled 'FentonWorks.' The building itself looked like a cross between a suburban home and a low-budget research facility, complete with strange antenna dishes and what appeared to be a giant, metal, archway-shaped device in the backyard. "No known meta-activity, no rogue League members hiding out. Just… corn. And a surprising amount of lawn gnomes. My sensors are barely picking up anything anomalous. It’s like the whole town is a dead zone for standard readings, and then suddenly bursts of high-level… something that my instruments can’t even categorize." He gestured vaguely at the flickering readings on his wrist-mounted console.

"She's been talking to him for over a month, Tim," Dick reminded him, his voice softer, yet firm. He leaned against a rusting metal beam, scanning the horizon with his own optics. "Cass doesn't open up to just anyone. There has to be something here. Something more than corn." He sighed, remembering a recent video call where Cass was patiently showing Danny a complex martial arts move, their heads close together, eyes sparkling with shared amusement. The simple, unburdened happiness on her face was worth the trip alone. It was a rare, precious thing.

Jason snorted, wiping dust from his helmet with a gloved hand. "Yeah, something called 'teenage infatuation.' Or maybe the kid's a master manipulator. My money's still on him being a serial killer who uses 'quirky mad scientist parents' as a cover." He glanced at the makeshift thermal map of the town on Tim's tablet, which showed perfectly normal, if slightly too warm, readings from the Fenton residence. "Seriously, this town is flat. No decent vantage points, no shadows. It's like it's designed to be inconvenient for us. Bruce must hate this place."

Their initial assessment, however, was spectacularly, spectrally, wrong.

Their first night was supposed to be a quiet data-gathering session, a routine observation punctuated by the incessant chirping of crickets and the distant croaking of frogs. They watched Danny help his parents, Jack and Maddie, wrangle what looked suspiciously like a giant, glowing toaster into a specially reinforced shed behind their house. It hummed with a low, unnatural thrum. Jack, a man built like a barrel with wild black hair, nearly tripped over his own feet, sending the glowing device wobbling precariously. Maddie, sharp and focused, barked instructions that sounded like a mix of particle physics and enthusiastic culinary advice.

"Are those… Ghostbusters props?" Tim whispered, incredulous, zooming in on the glowing appliance. "That's clearly not an appropriate use of government grants, even if they're independent. And that's a lot of ectoplasm showing up on my ambient scanners now. It's like it just appeared. And it's not a known energy signature. My instruments are having trouble filtering it out, it’s saturating the air."

Suddenly, the air directly in front of the Fenton house shimmered, twisting like heat haze off asphalt, growing denser and more opaque. A portly, spectral figure, vaguely humanoid but unmistakably translucent, materialized with a dramatic WHOOSH. He wore a cardboard box for a hat and gestured dramatically at a stack of ordinary moving boxes next to the front door. His eyes glowed a sickly green, and his form rippled like heat in a desert. "I am the Box Ghost! Beware! Beware of my cardboard wrath! For I control all things… rectangular!" he boomed, his voice echoing with an unnatural resonance that vibrated through the silo, rattling loose bits of grain and dust.

The Bat-Brothers froze. Jason instinctively reached for one of the Red Hood's hidden firearms, his fingers brushing against the cool metal. Dick narrowed his eyes, analyzing the spectral form, recognizing it as something entirely outside their established threat parameters. It wasn't a meta-human, not an alien they knew, and definitely not a magical construct of any known earthly origin. Tim, ever the analyst, frantically typed notes on his wrist-mounted computer, trying to cross-reference the apparition with any known meta-human, alien, or magical profiles. Nothing matched. His systems, usually so robust, were sputtering, struggling to even categorize the energy readings that spiked wildly around the spectral entity. "He's… he's literally made of… ghost?" Tim whispered, his voice a mixture of awe and utter disbelief.

Before they could fully process the utter absurdity of the situation, a blur of white and black shot out of the Fenton house. Danny, now glowing with an eerie green aura, his hair a shocking white, intercepted the ghost mid-boast. "Oh, come on, Boxy! It's Tuesday! Don't you have a convention to haunt? Or a basement full of empty Amazon boxes calling your name? I’m seriously trying to get to bed before midnight for once!"

What followed was a brief, utterly bewildering aerial skirmish. Danny, or rather "Phantom," as the ghostly figure was now audibly calling himself, effortlessly dodged a flying stapler, phased through the roof of the shed to avoid a spectral filing cabinet, and fired glowing green ecto-blasts from his hands. The Box Ghost, for his part, tried to overwhelm Phantom with an onslaught of spectral packing peanuts and a haunting pronouncement about the perils of square footage. Then, with a weary sigh that carried clearly even to the silo, Phantom summoned a glowing thermos, aimed, and with a loud thwump, sucked the glowing Box Ghost into it. The spectral energies dissipated, and the air cleared.

Phantom then reverted to his human form, his hair returning to black, the green glow fading. He wiped a hand across his forehead, looking utterly exhausted. "Right. That's done. Time for homework," he muttered, trudging back into the house, a faint hum of ecto-energy lingering in the air.

The Bat-Brothers exchanged stunned glances. The silence in the silo was deafening, broken only by the chirping crickets, now sounding remarkably normal.

"Did… did he just fight a ghost?" Jason finally managed, his voice laced with utter disbelief, his hand still hovering over his weapon. He felt ridiculous for even considering drawing on that. His Gotham training offered no counter-strategy for a sentient cardboard box.

"And he's a ghost himself?" Dick added, eyes wide, still processing the sheer impossibility of what they'd just witnessed. "He just… transformed. Like a meta-human. But… into that. And he's Cass's boyfriend. Bruce, are you seeing this?"

Tim's fingers flew across his keyboard, his usual rapid-fire data processing overwhelmed. "My sensors are going haywire. Ectoplasmic signatures off the charts. Energy readings… they're not registering on any known scale. And the town… it's like a low-level static on every wavelength. This whole town is radiating anomalous energy! This isn't just a localized event; it's systemic." He pulled up a map, now overlaid with pulsing green hotspots, emanating from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Every block, every home, seemed to have its own faint, bizarre signature. "And this 'Phantom' is the epicenter of it all. He's part of it."

Over the next few days, their surveillance became a rapid descent into the utterly absurd. Their strategic observations turned into bewildered spectator sports, where the main attraction was the seemingly endless parade of bizarre, intangible threats, and the perpetually tired teenage hero who fought them. They ate lukewarm energy bars and watched Amity's daily paranormal circus unfold.

They witnessed battles, often several times a day, sometimes in the middle of the school day, sometimes late at night. There was Ember McLain, a spectral goth girl who controlled music, turning pop hits into ear-splitting screeches and shattering windows with a sonic wail, demanding to be recognized. There was the Lunch Lady ghost, a monstrous blob made of school lunch residue, oozing through the cafeteria walls, furious about nutritional guidelines. There was Skulker, a towering, armored hunter ghost, who engaged Phantom in brutal aerial dogfights over the local diner, always demanding a challenge. And then there were the countless minor annoyances: a hyperactive poltergeist with a penchant for pranks involving flying pizza and turning all streetlights green; a towering, skeletal cowboy who rode a ghostly steed through Main Street, lassoing parked cars for target practice; even a sentient, haunted sandwich that tried to steal the local bakery's bread.

Each time, "Phantom" swooped in to save the day. He’d phase through walls with casual ease, fly at impossible speeds, fire ecto-blasts that shattered spectral forms, and always, always end the encounter by sucking the spectral menace into a thermos. He’d do it with a sarcastic quip ("Seriously, Meat-head? Still trying to make me eat those soggy tacos?"), a weary sigh ("Can we just not today, Spectra? I have a calculus test."), or a muttered complaint about being late for class or needing a shower. He looked perpetually tired, a dark smudge under his eyes that no amount of sleep could fix. His movements were precise, practiced, almost elegant despite the raw power he wielded. He was clearly a veteran, a phantom in his own right, fighting a war no one else seemed to notice.

The Bat-Brothers, seasoned veterans of Gotham's bizarre underworld, found themselves utterly out of their depth. Their gadgets, designed to counter conventional threats—criminal gangs, meta-human villains, even the occasional alien skirmish—were useless against beings that could simply phase through them, or were themselves intangible. Their training, honed against human and meta-human adversaries, didn't account for incorporeal combatants. They had to rely on Phantom to indirectly save their hides more times than they cared to admit, often without him even knowing they were there.

One afternoon, while trailing Danny from school, they tried to get a closer look at a glowing, green portal that had spontaneously appeared in the town square. Before they could get within fifty feet, a ghostly, furry creature with glowing red eyes and razor claws burst through it, shrieking like a banshee. It looked like a monstrous wolf, all teeth and shadow. Jason immediately engaged, firing a warning shot from his non-lethal sidearm, but the creature simply phased through the bullet, its shriek growing louder as it lunged for him. Just as it was about to rip into his tactical gear, a blur of white and green intercepted it, Phantom slamming into the creature and sending it howling back into the portal with a resounding thwumph. The portal blinked shut.

"This isn't 'stalking a potential threat,'" Jason grumbled into his comm later that night, patching a new rip in his sleeve that had mysteriously appeared from an invisible ghost's claw. "This is getting our asses handed to us by… lunch lady ghosts and whatever the hell that 'Wulf' thing was. And he just teleported to save my ass. Again. For the fifth time today! My armor's getting more ectoplasm than bullet holes!"

Tim, perpetually exhausted and running on lukewarm coffee and sheer stubbornness, just stared blankly at a thermal reading of a haunted toaster that was currently causing a minor electrical fire at a local diner, making toast pop out of the toaster at impossible speeds. "My brain can't process this. Gotham has Joker. Amity has… a sentient toaster. And a Box Ghost. What is happening? More importantly, how long has this been going on, and why doesn't the Justice League know? Bruce, the League is global. How could an entire town of active, pervasive supernatural phenomena be completely off their radar? Has he been doing this for years? Decades? The sheer volume of spectral energy radiating from this place should be a flashing beacon in space!"

Dick, despite the overwhelming chaos and the genuine danger they faced, found himself increasingly fascinated. "He's genuinely good, though. He protects this town, and he does it alone. He's tired. He moves like a veteran, a ghost himself, but he’s still just a kid. And his parents… they're building the very things that seem to attract and contain these entities. How is his family stuck in the middle of all this? Is it accidental? Deliberate? And he died, didn't he? Bruce, the files said something about an accident with the portal. He's a kid, Bruce. Just a kid, doing this every single day." He watched Phantom, currently battling a giant, spectral dragon high above the town, his movements precise and practiced, almost elegant despite the raw power he wielded. The weight of his burden was palpable even from this distance, etched onto his tired, ghostly face.

Bruce's voice, gravelly and analytical, came through the comms, cutting through the static of their bewilderment. "The energy signatures are unique. Unquantifiable by known League metrics. This warrants further investigation. Continue observation. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary for your own survival. A full League debrief will be required upon your return. This… changes things. Everything."

"Too late for 'not engaging,' B," Jason muttered, eyeing another glowing entity floating past their silo, a grinning spectral clown juggling spectral bowling pins. "He's already had to save our asses three times this week. And what the hell are we supposed to tell the League? 'Sorry, we found a town full of ghosts and a teenage half-ghost who's been doing your job for who-knows-how-long, and we accidentally stumbled into his girlfriend's bizarre homelife'?" He felt a strange mix of annoyance and grudging respect for the kid. This Danny kid, this Phantom, was a force of nature, a one-man clean-up crew for an entire supernatural epidemic. And he was tired. A growing sense of dread about explaining any of this to the League settled in Jason's gut. He could already hear Diana's questions about mythological entities, Arthur's skepticism about land-locked anomalies, and Clark's cheerful but ultimately unhelpful suggestions about offering a "friendly hand."

Unbeknownst to them, their covert surveillance had not gone unnoticed. Jazz Fenton, Danny’s older sister, was many things: a psychology prodigy with an unnervingly keen eye for human (and spectral) behavior, fiercely intelligent, and burdened with an acute awareness of her parents’ scientific negligence and her brother’s impossible secret. She had navigated their dysfunctional, ghost-obsessed household with a mix of academic detachment and unwavering protectiveness for years. She'd known about Danny's powers since he first accidentally phased through the living room wall; she'd been the one to help him figure out his abilities, to keep his secret, to pick up the pieces when their parents' experiments went awry. She knew he'd died and come back, half-ghost, and she knew the terrifying weight of his secret, the constant battles, the bone-deep exhaustion that perpetually shadowed his eyes. And she’d accepted it, managing it the only way she knew how: with structure, copious therapy notes (for everyone but herself, of course), and a perpetually vigilant eye on her baby brother.

When Danny started getting giddy texts from "Cass," Jazz had been cautiously optimistic. A normal connection! A lifeline to something outside their paranormal circus. But then, the phone calls turned into video chats where she'd glimpse shadowy figures in the background on Cass's end, figures that moved with a certain predatory grace. A few carefully placed, anonymous searches about "Gotham vigilantes" and "masked figures operating in secret" sent a chill down her spine. The blurry images she found were enough. Men in tactical gear, lurking in the shadows, always near Cass. And now, Danny was talking about Cass visiting Amity. The pieces clicked into place with an alarming, horrifying certainty. Her baby brother was being drawn into a world of costumed psychopaths and brooding billionaires.

No. Absolutely not.

Jazz had enough on her plate with her parents accidentally summoning interdimensional demons on a bi-weekly basis. Her baby brother, who had already faced death and embraced a terrifying power to protect their bizarre town, was not going to be drawn into the theatrics of self-appointed, spandex-clad vigilantes. Especially not by masked men who seemed to be stalking him and, by extension, her family. Her protective older sister instincts, honed by years of parental neglect and ghostly emergencies, flared into a protective inferno.

She had been tracking the anomalous energy signatures they'd been giving off since they arrived. They were subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone not actively looking for them – a faint technological hum, a barely-there electrical discharge, traces of unique fabrics. But Jazz’s custom-built ecto-scanners (hidden inside a seemingly innocuous psychology textbook in her backpack) had pinged their unique wavelengths for days. Tonight, the readings were concentrated right above the old grain silo. Perfect. She slipped out of the house, a grim determination in her eyes, leaving her parents blissfully unaware, as usual.

The Bat-Brothers were deep in their comms, debating the feasibility of using sonic disruptors against an entirely incorporeal foe, utterly oblivious to the approaching storm. Tim was frantically trying to input new parameters for ghost classification, while Dick was contemplating if a full-spectrum light bomb could affect spectral beings. Jason was just grumbling about the existential dread of sentient pastries. A soft thump echoed from behind them. They spun, their trained reflexes kicking in, dropping into defensive stances honed over years in Gotham's darkest alleys.

Standing calmly in the dim, dusty light of the silo, a redheaded young woman in sensible jeans and a crimson hoodie looked at them. Her eyes, sharp and intelligent, narrowed as she took in their tactical gear, their masks, their very presence. She knew exactly what they were. The "training wheels Justice League" as she'd mentally dubbed them.

"So," Jazz Fenton said, her voice cutting through the tension, surprisingly calm given the circumstances. "You're the creepy stalkers who've been tracking my little brother." Her tone was deceptively light, but the underlying steel was unmistakable, a prelude to the psychological onslaught she was about to unleash.

Jason, Red Hood, ever the impulsive one, took a step forward, his hand subtly going to a holstered weapon. "Look, lady, we're just—"

He never finished the sentence. Jazz moved with a speed that belied her unassuming appearance. It wasn't the fluid, almost dancing grace of a trained martial artist like Cass, but something sharper, more direct, born of exasperation and years of dealing with literal monsters. She didn’t aim to injure, but to assert, to make a point with undeniable physical force. With a fluid movement that surprised even Nightwing, she executed a perfect roundhouse kick. It connected squarely with Jason’s chest, the muffled thwack audible even through his armor. He grunted, surprised, and stumbled backward, losing his footing on the rickety wooden planks of the silo's observation deck. He tumbled over the edge, disappearing with a surprised "oof!" into the tall grass and shadowy debris below.

Dick, Nightwing, and Tim, Red Robin, stared, dumbfounded, their defensive stances momentarily forgotten. Their comms, for once, were utterly silent.

"Jason!" Dick yelled, rushing to the edge, peering down into the darkness.

"He deserved it," Jazz declared, calmly dusting off her hands, a flicker of satisfaction in her eyes. "Trying to intimidate a psychological professional. Amateur. Honestly, the posturing is a textbook defense mechanism for deep-seated insecurities." She turned her gaze to Tim, who immediately took a more guarded stance, feeling oddly exposed despite his mask. "And you," she pointed a finger at him, her voice holding a note of exasperated concern, as if addressing a particularly difficult therapy patient, "you look like you're perpetually stressed. Dark circles. Caffeine addiction, I'd wager. You probably need a nap. And a less demanding job. Perhaps a hobby that doesn't involve lurking in dilapidated structures."

Tim, genuinely flustered by the pinpoint accuracy of her assessment, stammered, "I—I'm fine. Who are you?"

"I'm Jazz Fenton," she announced, her voice firm and clear, projecting an authority that made them both instinctively pause. "Danny's older sister. And if you think you're going to drag my baby brother into your little cape-and-cowl drama, you've got another thing coming." She then fixed Nightwing with a steely, unblinking glare that pierced straight through his domino mask. "And you. You look like the leader. You need to tell whoever you work for – Bruce Wayne, I presume, given his daughter's… particular circle of acquaintances – that if they lay one gloved hand on my brother, if they try to interfere with his life or, God forbid, try to recruit him, I will personally dissect their psychological profile and expose every single one of their neuroses to the entire city. I will publish it. I will lecture on it. Your mysterious lives? Over. Capiche?"

Dick, usually unflappable, the master of de-escalation, the one who could talk down angry villains and comfort traumatized victims, could only gape, his mouth slightly ajar behind his mask. "What the fuck is wrong with this town?" he muttered under his breath, utterly bewildered by the sudden, unexpected, and terrifyingly competent civilian intervention. This wasn't just a threat; it was a deeply personal, meticulously planned, psychological ambush.

Before Jazz could deliver another psychological threat, a new presence shimmered into existence beside her, a flash of white and green. Phantom materialized, his white hair a mess, his glowing green eyes wide with panic as he took in the scene: Jazz, mid-rant, and two bewildered masked figures, with a third, even more bewildered one, slowly rising from the ground below. He'd been battling a particularly persistent spectral clown that kept turning innocent citizens into balloon animals, and his ecto-sense had just screamed at him that Jazz was about to do something drastically embarrassing.

"Jasmine!" Danny, as Phantom, hissed, his voice laced with mortification, his spectral glow flickering with agitated energy. He saw Red Hood slowly picking himself up from the ground below, rubbing his chest. "Oh my god, Jasmine! Tell me you didn't just punt-kick an ex-crime lord off a roof! Please, please, please tell me you didn't!" He turned to the two masked figures still on the platform, his glowing eyes widening apologetically. "I am so sorry about her. She's… very protective. And a bit dramatic. She means well, mostly." He floated slightly, wringing his spectral hands. "Look, I know this is weird, and I know you guys are… well, you guys. Could you please, please not send Batman here? He'd just make things worse. He’d probably try to analyze the ghosts, or worse, put them in Arkham. And honestly, we've got enough problems with the actual ghosts without adding a brooding vigilante and his highly trained, hyper-competent-but-currently-traumatized family to the mix."

Red Hood slowly looked up from the ground, brushing himself off. The dust of the silo stuck to his armor, and he felt a phantom ache in his chest where the kick had landed. He saw Phantom hovering, a kid in a ghostly suit, clearly mortified by his sister's actions. He then saw Jazz, arms crossed, looking at Danny with a look that clearly said, 'He started it, little brother, and frankly, I'm proud.' A faint, almost imperceptible flush crept up Jason's neck, spreading beneath his helmet. "Huh. She's… got a good kick," he mumbled, a strange, new thought blooming in his very confused mind. She had audacity. And she was protecting her brother. And that red hair… yeah.

Red Robin, however, was already done. He clutched his head, eyes wide with a mixture of exasperation and existential terror. "I'm so done. I'm taking a sabbatical. To a deserted island. With no internet. And no ghosts. Or highly articulate, psychologically astute older sisters who can apparently punt highly trained vigilantes into next week."

Jazz, a triumphant smirk gracing her lips, ignored Danny's mortified apologies. "Now," she said, cutting across him, her voice resonating with finality, "if you'll excuse us, my brother and I have actual interdimensional threats to deal with, largely thanks to our parents'… enthusiasm. You boys have fun with your… whatever this is. And seriously," she added, her voice echoing as she pulled a still-apologetic Danny (who was still trying to explain that the kick was "an accident, mostly," and that Jason was "probably a nice guy, underneath the ex-crime lord thing") by the ear, "therapy. It helps. And communication. You need better communication skills. That's a foundational principle, people."

Danny, still red-faced, gave one last frantic, apologetic wave to the bewildered Bat-Brothers before Jazz dragged him away, both of them dematerializing and disappearing into the Amity night, leaving two very confused, and one very intrigued, masked vigilantes behind. The hum of the ecto-energy, once a strange anomaly, now felt like the heartbeat of the most bewildering town they had ever encountered. Gotham had nothing on Amity, Illinois.

📌 Bonus Notes (at the end of the post):

I love when Jazz goes full big sister mode and Danny panics like “NOOO DON’T KICK THE BATMEN.”

Because what do you mean you yeeted Red Hood off a silo... and he liked it 🤣🤣🤣

Let me know what you think! Batfam shenanigans are my love language.

[gingerf1]

Hello!

I have only just come back (a few weeks ago) into the f1 side of tumblr/fics after being away for a few years and things have changed! Like last time I was properly active Simi was still on the grid and Merc were still on top so I’ve missed….A LOT!

I have just finished reading some of your fics and I needed to quickly come over here to just say how amazing your writing is! It’s so well put together and gripping - like I would read until there was no more to read 😂

I have also (very recently) been converted to being not only a Max fan but also a Charlie fan! Do you have recommendations on people (aside from yourself) to follow so I can have more of them on my dash? What do I need to know about each of them? Any thing you think someone needs to know or just anything?

I used to be close to a few people back in the day but they are no longer active so really hope you don’t mind me bothering you and I’m sorry if this was too much!

Thanks ☺️ (and apologies again)

Hi! ✨

Welcome back! 💖 I totally get you, I’m an old F1 fan too. I didn’t realize it at the time, but my first crush was 2007 Kimi 🤭 (yes, I was a baby), and looking back now, it makes perfect sense. Turns out I’ve always had a thing for blonde, blue-eyed menace drivers, Kimi, Seb, Nico Rosberg, and of course, Max… 🫣

I kept up with F1 over the years, mostly watching races, but I wasn’t really active in the fandom. I was too young at first, and later I was fully immersed in writing JB and 1D fics on Wattpad and then College…

I only joined AO3 about two years ago, and I became active in the fandom when I opened my Tumblr to post my fics (mostly because I wanted more bottom Max stories 🤭). So honestly, I’m pretty new too, and a little shy… But I’m slowly getting to know more people here.

That said, here are some of my favorite blogs! They’ve got a bit of everything, fics, amazing and funny commentary on races, F1 world opinions, and the most beautiful Max appreciation posts (my personal weakness ☺️):

@33-16, @souvenir116, @autumnapricot, @saviour-of-lord, @grogumaximus, @laura1633, @scuderiamint, @scuderiadebauchery, @adutchlover, @scuderiafemboy, @verstappenalty, @le-stappen

I know I’m probably forgetting some amazing blogs 😭 but as soon as I remember them, I’ll come back and share! 💓 Promise!

I’m really happy to have you here 💕 On my blog you’ll find fic updates, lovely asks from anons, lots of Max appreciation (and a little Charles too), me crying over race results and cheering for Max with unhinged levels of love and hope, and of course, lots of chaotic fic ideas that we throw around for fun.

I hope you enjoy your time here, sending you so much love and the biggest, warmest hug 💝

P.S. Thank you so much! 🥹 I’m so glad you enjoyed my silly little stories, it truly means the world to me! 💗

[lilacxquartz]

CHASING HUMANITY • kenjaku x f!reader

masterlist • previous chapter • next chapter • chapter directory • on ao3

plot: ever since 2015, japan has been plagued by mysterious deaths all over the country with no particular lead, until one day, you saw something you shouldn’t have.

summary: just as you thought you were in the clear, another problem arose, putting you both in potential danger.

a/n: a new arc emerges, might do a different character perspective chapters because unlike naoya, there’s very little context for what the new introduction is up to — tag list: @lilbxtchsyndrome

Chapter 12. Unlikely Visitor

Life with you felt easier after that, when there was no one on your tail demanding that you come back home or whatever else it was that Naoya had planned out for you. Even with him gone, though, you both still had to be careful. Mahito was queued to take the fall for your sake, but that was only to buy some time so that you both could lay low.

The temple, therefore, became a sort of temporary refuge. Kenjaku taught you how to become more resourceful where and when it mattered, or how to take charge at the right moment. Things like maintaining the emergency generators, tinkering with all sorts of gadgets and machinery, and knowing how to get out of danger should you ever be cornered. He taught you all of these things with such focus that he didn’t notice what went on just outside the temple grounds.

Not until it was a little too late, anyway.

It was only when he went to check on the sound of what sounded like someone driving away. The sound of an engine firing up was what made his heart drop; the rest of what he heard made him freeze up altogether.

When he determined it was fine to investigate, he found flowers left behind on the doorstep. White lillies tied together with loose twine.

He didn’t touch the arrangement, but he did stare, and for a long time. Whoever had left them also padded down the gravel in what he determined to be an untouched lot before, but now that he thought about it, there was a faint, repetitive path pressed into it.

Kenjaku, as a result, decided to leave you behind—if not for just a moment—needing to stitch together a plan to move things forward because he wasn’t ready to go down just yet. Eventually, sure, it was likely unavoidable in the modern times and what with peak forensic technology, but for now? He was starting to have fun again.

(And a big part of it had something to do with you.)

He wanted to experience more oddities at your side, be it having you grovel at his feet when you misspoke, or figure out a way away from certain death when you claimed to know how to do something. He liked exploring your body, too, when whatever it was pushed you both together. He liked watching the way you would figure things out, or even feeling the shiver run down his spine whenever it was that you said something weird and completely unhinged. Which was suspiciously often.

Though he also didn’t want to bring you with him to attend a meeting with someone like Mahito. Maybe it was, therefore—even with the mystery visitor in mind—to leave you behind in a safe room.

He chose a small room to lock you into. A supply closet, from the look of it. Just in case he left you behind a knife, going as far as showing how to lunge forth with the correct form in mind so that you had a fighting chance of self-defense. He seemed to like it when you found a genuine interest in learning about such things, but still clicked his tongue in disappointment when you got too into it, when you forgot that, for a moment, knives were in fact, sharp. You somehow seemed to forget that he wasn’t a good test subject for such motions, but he was quick to remind you on who to demonstrate such a thing onto. A potential threat to you, perhaps, and not the man teaching you how to defend yourself.

Still, he left you with that in mind. Even if reluctantly. Somehow he suspected that you would end up hurting yourself more than anyone else.

The car he otherwise had was parked out of the way. The one that visited, however, didn’t seem to be as concealed as it used the main parking area. This meant that the visitor didn’t have anything to hide, whereas he did. Kenjaku’s mind raced as he thought about just how he could figure out an explanation out of this, if need be.

He could say that he was a former follower, since that much was the truth. He did, for a while, after all, stake out the sort of man that Suguru Geto was before. He wanted someone dubious enough already to assume the identity of. A cultist who had gone mad, who had dropped from the face of the earth—potentially seen doing something odd—wasn’t all that much of a strange catch. Or, rather, it wouldn’t be questioned too deeply.

His mind went back to who it was that could have been visiting.

He also considered the idea of whether or not it could have been family, but no, that couldn’t have been right. From his knowledge, Suguru Geto went insane, indeed, killing everyone off who didn’t believe in his strange ideals that he could get to. This included his family. He didn’t have any left.

So who did that leave, then?

Someone who potentially poses a danger to you, should you encounter them, perhaps?

Kenjaku sighed at the thought.

He would have to be quick with his meeting, in that case.

~~~

Upon the first meeting in what felt like a while, Mahito seemed to be on board with Kenjaku’s plan that he had in mind—disturbingly happy, even—in a way that managed to unsettle him.

After all, Kenjaku had expected at least some type of resistance. He would have respected a flat-out refusal, just because of the gravity of what he was asking him to do. Taking the fall for a regular victim was one thing, but taking the fall for a victim who was also a cop was another entirely. Detectives, policemen, and the like took it extra personally when it wasn’t just a civilian, but one of their own. No matter how vile Naoya must have been as a person, he still wore the badge and as much as Kenjaku hated the idea, that made him a higher priority.

Having an alliance also didn’t mean that he could get away with throwing every measure of bullshit their way either, since at most, his acquaintances were small-time, petty criminals. He utilised what he could with people like Hanami and Jogo in securing abandoned places to squat or take over, maybe robbing a few stores here and there when he was short on cash, but nothing ever quite like this.

Though Mahito was someone he planned to throw under the bus from the start. He was a little too into impressing him, after all. This made him easy, potential ammo for anything at all. If more cops than were necessary got involved, then Kenjaku wouldn’t lift a finger in trying to bail him out, and, to add to that, if Mahito was willingly offering to surrender himself as a copycat, then so be it.

At best, he wanted the plan to be convincing enough. The idea was to plant enough biological evidence to make the whole thing look like a sloppy recreation of the guy they were actually chasing. Or maybe, convince them that the original murderer was trying to spice things up a little, and challenge the authorities to see if they could catch him or not.

Whatever it was that they determined, Mahito would be the one to take responsibility.

“You’ll either end up being a copycat,” Kenjaku explained to Mahito coolly, his voice leaving nothing behind to question other than the cold, hard truth, “or a fraud who was framed. This would be the end of you freely roaming around, though. Do you understand what I’m asking from you here?”

Mahito beamed, the mangled scars of his attempted piercings stretching grotesquely around his face. It wasn’t a pleasant sight, and Kenjaku, as well as everyone else, would take the effort to avoid looking at his face for far too long.

“That sounds perfect to me,” Mahito mused approvingly. “Think they’ll mention me in a podcast as the greatest killer of our time?”

Kenjaku could only study him in silence. Both the smile and the fevered glint in his eye reminded him of you, but you were still only unhinged from his encouragement. Mahito was unhinged for other reasons; seemingly off of the renown he could possibly amass and whatever else went on in his strange mind.

Where Kenjaku found comfort in finding his match with you, there was something that he felt uncomfortable with when discussing anything at all with this guy.

Mahito continued, unable to keep still. His fingers twitched with excitement at the thought. “So what am I going for?” he asked, his tone close to demanding. “Just leaving behind enough fingerprints, or do I get to change the scene enough to leave behind a calling card?”

Kenjaku calmly replied to his insistent questions. “The calling card is left behind in the murder itself. The way that the victim dies is often horrible and is left on display for people to find.”

“But what if people don’t see the vision?” Mahito whined, tugging on his sleeves.

“Then,” Kenjaku sighed—glancing around the dimly lit area where they met up—yet another abandoned warehouse of sorts, “I suppose if you really want to, you can add to it. As a copycat or someone who will take the fall entirely for me, though, you might not want to change it up too much.”

“Aw,” Mahito sighed too, a little too dramatically. “I wanted to have at least some fun with it.”

“This has to be done right, is all,” Kenjaku said instead, dropping his voice into something quieter and less flashy than before. What he was giving Mahito was a job. This wasn’t something he was telling him to go around doing for his enjoyment, but an actual, serious task.

Mahito rolled his eyes but got the memo. “Fine, fine,” he supposed. “I’ll be thoughtful with the aftermath. I won’t go too crazy with it.”

Kenjaku nodded along, but he still wasn’t accepting begrudging compliance; he needed Mahito to fully understand the gravity of what he was committing to. Mahito could be both tricky and perfect at the same time for things like this. He could either take on any strange job as long as he was doing something that most wouldn’t agree to, or he could insist on adding his own flair to everything he did.

This made him both perfect for work like this but also frustrating all at the same time, because, depending on how he chose to go about it, it would either buy very little time at all, or somehow give him away instead.

Mahito, by this point, caught onto Kenjaku’s unwavering intensity. There was a long pause that settled between them both as a result.

“I’ll keep it to something I can see you doing,” Mahito finally said, albeit in a resigned tone.

Kenjaku smiled, albeit curtly. “Good.”

He then leaned back as Mahito rambled on, somewhat tuning out to his proposed ideas for calling cards, depending on what was left behind, or what sort of planted evidence could throw off the authorities if they found an irregularity.

All the while, Kenjaku treated this sort of request not as something fun, but as something necessary. This meant that he couldn’t bring himself to joke around as much as he wanted to with Mahito—not like old times—because this was something important.

Though, he couldn’t deny that it was a beautiful thing that Mahito was doing for him.

It was so rare that he got to see somebody—let alone anyone—so eager to dig their own grave.

~~~

In the meantime, you were growing restless in the tiny room that you had been confined to with nothing other than a knife to go off on. To say that you were bored was an understatement. You also had no idea just how long this meeting of his was going to take, because he left you with very little information about where it was that he was going. So, he couldn’t totally blame you if you figured a way out of this locked room, right? Maybe he would even be proud if you revealed that you whittled away at the lock through the gap of the door with the knife he left you, slashing your way to freedom.

That much, after all, was you being resourceful, right?

Though as you stumbled forth from the doorway, you already knew the answer to that. You could already hear the lecture he was likely preparing, sensing something amiss somehow.

Still, it wasn’t like you were going out of your way to be intentionally annoying. At best, you just wanted to look around more and stretch your legs beyond the compacted confines of a literal closet. The only parts of the temple that he had guided you through were, for the most part, isolated: the audience chamber where Naoya’s corpse was left behind to bloat on syrup, oil, and whatever else he gulped down; the kitchen and the canteen adjacent; the hallway; and then the little room you both holed up in overnight, fast asleep after getting up to no good in there.

As such, you wandered out to the outskirts of the building. Not to escape—you knew better than to try that—but to take in the place overall. It was kind of overgrown and half assimilated into nature at this point, but maintained just well enough not to succumb to complete rot.

All was going well until it wasn’t.

You heard a car roll up, and it sounded a bit too quiet to be what Kenjaku drove. You knew that he went for throwaway cars, so it was unlikely that he was the one behind the wheel of the sleek black sedan that eased itself into the vicinity.

Without thinking any further, you dove behind a nearby bush, holding your breath. Although the leaves felt unpleasant and the little branches dug into your skin, making you unintentionally writhe under the shrubbery, you tried your best to stay still and quiet.

The man who stepped outside from the now-parked car looked to be quite serious in a way that Kenjaku wasn’t. He seemed to be here with a purpose in mind, but nothing about him seemed cop-like. His crystal-blue eyes were set into a solemn expression that matched the tightness in his face, and there was a sort of methodical stillness that unsettled you more than anything. He simply got out of the car and took in the scene around him.

All that he did was take a few steps forward and crouch before a bunch of flowers arranged at the doorstep to the temple.

The door was slightly ajar, and you fretted in the foliage, hoping he would pass it off as the wind, even though the rest of the surrounding nature didn’t follow suit.

In bitten-back silence, doing everything in your ability to not give yourself away, you watched as he inspected the flowers scattered over the doorstep, carefully sorting them into a perfectly ordered bouquet and then looking around in suspicion.

The way he did so had you cursing your luck internally. Was this another killer you had found yourself witnessing? If so, then what were the odds?

This guy didn’t look unsettling in the same way that Kenjaku did, though, who always had something delighted glinting in his eye when doing anything ritualistic. These were otherwise the eyes of a man who looked resentful, as if in mourning instead. Maybe he was just someone who used to know someone who had lived or worked here, and perhaps, you were safe from the potential of meeting yet another serial killer.

(This was good, if that was the case. Singing your way out of being buried might have worked with Kenjaku, but something about this man felt different, charged. If he was dangerous, then you could already sense he wouldn’t let you off so easily.)

You began to sneak off with that comfort in mind, but then a twig breaking underfoot gave away your position a little too well.

At first, when he didn’t immediately react, you thought—maybe—you were somehow in the clear—but then you heard him speak.

You froze at the sound.

“You know that I can see you, right?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.

You awkwardly laughed and stepped into sight with your hands up, showing that you weren’t a threat. You had a knife tucked into the waistband of your trousers, but it wasn’t on display. Honestly, your biggest threat at the moment is the knife dropping down and stabbing your ankle or something equally embarrassing.

The man before you didn’t look surprised at all to see you. Maybe annoyed at best. You met his gaze—those same blue eyes locking onto you with a critical intensity—as you took in the rest of his appearance. There was something uniquely striking about him, and for just a moment, you remained stunned into a kind of studying silence.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Pulled from your dazed stupor, all you could do was offer a weak, awkward smile. “Oh, um. I’m nobody. Just passing through, really…”

The stranger’s expression didn’t shift. He clearly wasn’t buying whatever it was you were trying to sell.

“This is private property, just so you’re aware,” he continued on to say.

You blinked, trying to avoid confrontation if you could help it. “R-right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to trespass.”

“And yet,” he said, crossing his arms, “you’re still here.”

You hesitated. You knew you couldn’t just leave. You had very little to go on in a place this remote, and while Kenjaku was reasonable—for now—he was still volatile. If he got it in his head that you tried to escape, there was no telling if you’d be able to explain that you had been, quite literally, cast out.

You tried for an excuse. “I didn’t mean any disrespect, truly. I just needed somewhere to sleep for the night, and I wasn’t aware this place still had visitors.”

His eyes didn’t soften. “So you chose to reside in my dead friend’s home?”

You gulped. “I mean… when you say it like that… But I don’t know who your friend was. I’m sorry. I just needed a place to take cover in, that’s—”

He cut you off. His voice, while still quiet, settled into a lower pitch; one that carried some hint of apology within it, if even begrudgingly.

“—Sorry,” he muttered. “That was unfair of me. Of course you couldn’t possibly know. I’m just… looking for a missing friend of mine. I’m not sure if he’s actually dead. He used to spend a lot of time here.”

“Oh…” you said, trailing off.

Something about the way he spoke of the guy felt guarded. You wondered if it was the same man Kenjaku masqueraded as? The man whose robes he wore with such familiarity? It was the most likely connection, and for that reason, you avoided giving away what you knew with all the effort you could. No good would come of revealing that you were currently travelling with someone who had stolen his missing friend’s identity.

After all, if that identity had been assumed… then it likely meant his friend wasn’t just missing. He was dead. That was simply just how Kenjaku worked. He would kill and assume the identities of others, in some kind of form of extreme identity theft.

The man continued to drop theories as he studied you, perhaps trying to coax out an answer out of you. “Maybe his past caught up to him, and he just dropped off the radar. Started somewhere new.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure,” you murmured. “I’ll be out of the place by tomorrow, though. Promise.”

The man stiffened slightly, tilting his head. “Why not today?”

“Well…” you gulped. “It’s going to get dark again soon. But if I leave tomorrow morning, I’ll be able to make it somewhere else.” You hesitated before tacking on a weak attempt at persuasion. “Y-you wouldn’t want to completely cast out a homeless girl, right? The world is far from safe.”

He scoffed, but his expression didn’t shift. No sympathy, no warmth. Just cold practicality. “You have one night,” he said, “but I’ll be back tomorrow and you’d better be gone.”

Before you could thank him, he turned and walked off, slipping back into his car. Without another word, he was gone, his black sedan disappearing down the winding road.

You sat at the doorstep after that, not daring to explore any farther than necessary. The sun was sinking low, and darkness crept in at the edges, leaving you wondering if you were going to have to spend the night alone. The thought lingered for a moment until you heard footsteps.

A familiar gait. The sudden feeling of guilt emerging from within you, leaving you uncertain no matter what it was you have or haven’t done.

You looked up and sure enough, you were met with a silhouette you recognized instantly.

Although… he looked wrecked. Exhausted, even.

In Kenjaku’s defence, there was just something uniquely draining when it came to dealing with Mahito, particularly and perhaps especially when it came to arranging the logistics of a crime scene. The conversation at the meet-up had left Kenjaku with a bone-deep ache that he couldn’t quite shake, and seeing you outside the room where he had left you—looking jumpy, clearly sitting on some unspoken intel—only worsened it.

It was a miracle that his spirit didn’t give out entirely.

For a split moment, he wondered what sort of end you would give him. The idea tickled at the far corners of his mind, making him shudder. He didn’t want to commit to whatever grotesque plans you had brewing. Your past suggestions were particularly gruesome. It was only ever fascinating to watch your mind work from a safe distance where he could contain you.

He pitied the next person who wouldn’t have that safety net.

For now, he focused on the problem right in front of him.

“You’re nervous,” he pointed out, blinking down at where you sat. “Why?”

You blinked up at him in return, attempting to play innocent. “Uh, I’m not. Maybe you’re seeing things?”

Kenjaku sighed deeply, fixing you with an unwavering glare. He knew that doing so would make you nervous and crack eventually.

“…Well, you’re not where I left you, and you look guilty,” he added, glancing over at you, “so something must have happened. Plus, you’re pretty bad at lying, so you might as well just be out with it.”

You gulped and laughed awkwardly as he grilled you, but then finally gave in to his demands. It wasn’t that you wanted to keep that encounter a secret, but rather that you didn’t know how to properly explain it.

Using a careful tone, you tried to lay into it gently. “…There was a guy.”

Kenjaku froze; for some reason, he was expecting anything but that. Maybe a fire in the kitchen that burnt up the supplies, but not a potential visitor. He wondered if it was the same one who left flowers at the doorstep that he found earlier on in the day.

“Yeah?” he asked, sounding a little less confident than before.

You nodded anxiously. “Yeah, a guy with white hair and blue eyes? Didn’t seem to be lost. He arranged the flowers a little neater and told me to leave by tomorrow, but nothing else aside from that.”

Kenjaku blinked maybe once as you explained yourself, not quite buying that it was just that. “Anything else?”

You looked at the darkening sky and then back at him. “He did say that he was looking for his missing friend.”

Kenjaku nodded, albeit grimly, before stepping past you, tapping on your shoulders and walking right inside. “Come,” he urged, “help me pack.”

“You okay?” you probed.

“Really hoped I wouldn’t run into that guy,” he muttered more to himself than you, “but we’re not waiting around for tomorrow, we’re leaving now.”

You tried to get him to spill more information because you were, of course, undeniably curious, but Kenjaku kept his mouth zipped shut. He didn’t give in to your pestering need for knowledge, packing up whatever he needed with an almost methodical approach. He also, at the same time, brought up a number, muttering out some hasty instructions to Mahito, telling him that it was as soon as tonight that he needed to start working, ignoring you even further. He wasn’t doing so to be cruel, but rather so that he didn’t stray behind on what he needed to accomplish. Things like planting subtle enough evidence that would lead away from both you and him, perhaps realizing that your interaction with this guy spelled out a certain fate. Maybe you weren’t in the clear, after all.

He wondered about his own fate, too, determining that if who he thought was searching for Suguru Geto was the right guy, and given the description you provided, that it was entirely likely that he was snooping again.

When he left the grounds with you, he ensured to keep you close. He held onto your hand tightly, as if scared that you would somehow wander away and get yourself into even further trouble. Overall, he found himself growing increasingly paranoid about losing you. He might have been able to leave you behind for a meeting, deciding that he didn’t like it when you were around Mahito, but he wouldn’t be able to do so again.

After a while of silence, too, he tried to change the topic. “Out of curiosity,” Kenjaku asked, “what kind of fate would you give to someone who just won’t shut up?”

He watched with uncertainty as your mind shifted into action, likely thinking up something grim.

“Maybe I’d go the route of stuffing their mouth with cotton wool,” you supposed.

Kenjaku blinked, casting you a sideways glance as he pulled you through the surrounding forest, trying to locate where he had left his car behind. “Yeah?”

You hummed. “Yeah, I mean, like at first, it’s kind of useless, you can still breathe through it, right? You can probably hold a fair bit of it in your stomach, too… but then it starts to soak and impact, eventually becoming heavy in your gut. There’s only so much that you can keep of a non-digestible substance in your belly before it starts to get messy, especially if you prevent them from throwing up. You can’t breathe after a while, let alone scream.”

A beat of silence passed through the still night.

“And then eventually…” You trailed off, “They’ll just die, right?”

Kenjaku didn’t say anything for a long moment as he considered your unsettling proposal. Come to think of it, a lot of your ideas had something to do with ingesting inedible substances leading to a personal, horrifying end, and that filled him with unease. While he would typically go for something physical, you, on the other hand, made it feel somehow intimate in your efforts. That observation both aroused him but also terrified him.

Still, he played it off. “You’re so fucking weird,” he laughed, trying to keep the discomfort out of his voice. It was a commendable effort when he managed to get creeped out by someone else.

What was even better was when you just simply shrugged it off. “I guess?”

The sheen of the car could be spotted through the lacing foliage, making him let out a breath of relief. As you walked with him and spilled all sorts of horrifying things from your lips, that uncertain feeling of what was likely separation anxiety started to fester once more. It wasn’t quite like fear, more so akin to panic, and he hated every second of it.

He didn’t want to think about potentially letting you go, either to succumb to arrest and slipping into the system, or at the hands of anyone else.

What if he hadn’t found you first, and someone else, similar to him, did instead?

You were perfect for him, after all; so weird and willing, which made you easy to manipulate, just like with Mahito. Though, he didn’t like thinking about you in that same way. Whatever weirdness you’d bring to the table, he wanted it to be organic.

Just before getting into the car, therefore, he brought you into a crushing hug, but there was nothing sweet about it. It felt possessive, almost, and maybe even a bit territorial.

His voice came out low and calm, laced with a hint of warning, “Don’t talk to weird strangers next time, hm?”

Your words were muffled as you spoke into his chest in response. “Yeah? You giving me the whole stranger danger speech? Bit late for that, isn’t it?”

Though Kenjaku didn’t laugh. This was serious to him. “Sure,” he supposed. “But you should be aware that you’re tagging along with someone dangerous, right? That means that whatever sort of trouble I attract will eventually catch up to you, too.” He then pulled back, trying to drive the point home by gripping at your shoulders. “I’m the least of your worries in something like this. The guy you met before isn’t a danger to you directly, but what about the next time your curiosity gets the best of you, hm?”

You tried to reply to him again, but he cut you off before you could get anywhere.

“What if it had been anyone else?” he challenged. “You wouldn’t be right here, getting reprimanded by me. Oh no, no. You’d be behind bars at best, or maybe you’d be under the mercy of someone like me, or worse. Someone who’d try to cut you open just to see what kind of expressions you’d make. Just what sort of sounds you’d utter while you actively screamed from your guts spilling.”

“Fine,” you murmured, taking his point in, “I won’t talk to anyone else.”

“I mean it,” he said, “never talk to anyone else again. Not even if we’re around trusted people. They won’t understand you the same way I do.”

You nodded again, and then finally he loosened you, guiding you into the car. When you were both sat inside, he struck the keys into ignition, taking your thigh into his palm as he rolled out. Finally, he felt calm once more, but only when he could relish in his possessive reach around you.

Only then.

(But fuck, he could feel himself getting worse.)

(Eventually it would catch up to you both in the worst, most tragic of ways, but not yet.)

[foldingfittedsheets]

It turns out deciding to play just a random Assassins Creed game because I wanted to play as a gay lady Viking was jumping into the deep end of some insane game meta. I’m still having a pretty nice time, though.

But it’s firing up my video game hunger and now I’m scoping out physical discs for Baldur’s Gate 3 but also. Money.

[thirdwheelravi]

Recently have been growing increasingly compelled by Buddie despite never having seen a single episode of 911, purely through internet exposure to their insane codependent homoerotic swagger. anyway I am curious as to the fandom’s general faith level in potential Buddie canon? I have had deep skepticism drilled into me by participation in past queerbait fandoms lmao, but also hearing about some of the writing choices being made just has me like… if canon Buddie endgame is not the goal then literally what are they doing. But again I’ve been burnt before. So would love to just get your/your followers’ take on this - when y’all say 2025 is the year of canon Buddie, how serious are you?

hmmmm i feel like you want me to assure you that it is definitely for sure 100% happening for real and you will not get hurt by hoping which obviously i cannot do because i am not tim minear nor do i claim to understand the perverse workings of his mind. i would love to say that all the writing is pointing that direction (it is) and that they made buck canoncially bi (they did) without in any way pulling back on the intensity, ambiguity, and importance of his relationship with eddie and if anything only started leaning into it even more (all true) and THEREFORE it's inevitable. but unfortunately we are dealing with a man who, among other sins, pulled a dead wife look-a-like doppleganger out of his ass so you can understand my dilemma.

but if you are asking is it worth getting invested in this ship, then my answer is a resounding 100% yes because when it comes to writing buck and eddie's relationship, they truly have not missed once. so the options are a) they actually do the insane thing of making a slowburn queer relationship on network tv happen for real and we all win huge and explode forever or b) they keep writing buck and eddie the way they have been writing them for 7 years while refusing to ever put a name to this quasi-life partner-coparent-best-friends-most-important-person-in-each-others-lives-which-no-one-can-ever-measure-up-to relationship which i can't deny i still find plenty compelling.

anyway im sure there are a number of my followers/mutuals who would be happy to explain exactly where the confidence in canon buddie 2025 comes from but for me i will just say. is it not a joy in itself just to believe in love?

[starryeyeddreamer21]

Headcanon that since they live in a self aware musical Angel will use it to his advantage to fuck with people

He'll start playing music to see what the strangest thing he can get people to sing is

Everyone figures out what he's doing pretty fast but he keeps doing it because Alastor and Lucifer seem to have made it a competition to try and get each other to say the most embarrassing shit and neither of them will back down

The worst song he's gotten them to sing along to is Daisy by Ashnikko

This left multiple people dead, even more people traumatized, and got Angels music privileges restricted (in his defense he really thought this one would stump them)

He does feel kinda bad for Charlie but the horrified looks of Vaggie and Husks faces make everything worth it

(also Cherri and Nifty think it's hilarious)

[yujeong]

Okk. I don't want to compare or anything but I don't get the people who's getting mad on Korn Tonkla scenes saying they had more screen time? Or shit. I mean tbh, I am understanding the plot of the series better because of the two of them because they are somehow related to all of the events. And Tonkla's situation is...... he somehow senses the other timeline which I think is an important role. And also, Korn! Like what you've said he knows Dome is dead, and at the same time he's with his brother who ’saved’ Dome. Both of the characters are pivotal in the series.

Also, I think that they are more talked about because a Bas and Fuaiz couple was not expected in the series, and at the same time their plot line is really good as well as the build up of their characters. And I've seen more & more people are falling in love with Fuaiz & Bas (as an actor) in this series.

But somehow, I get them because the main couple is GreatTyme but why does it feel like they are becoming more of a side couple. Also saw people saying that their ’plot line’ or how they were introduced to eo /wasn't it./

Thank you for giving me the incentive to speak about this issue, anon. I'm going to do it now because the new episode will come out in a few hours and hopefully I won't have to do this ever again - which I honestly doubt but anyway. Since I haven't seen this type of discourse pop up on Tumblr (thank GOD), I'd like to inform everyone that over on Twitter, there have been massive complaints about Tonkla, aka Fuaiz, getting more screentime than the main characters, aka JesBible, to the point of people tagging BOC in posts and demanding they give them more scenes with TymeGreat - as if BOC can just pull footage they haven't filmed out of their ass or something. It got so bad that Sammon herself saw them and AGREED with these people, further explaining how it was important for some plot elements to be explored now, in order for the rest of the series to make sense. Now, with all due respect to her position as a screenwriter: she's factually wrong here. Someone on Twitter actually sat down and counted the minutes each character is on screen and came out with these results:

It's not in English, but I believe the results are clear: Tonkla doesn't even come close to Great's screentime. He's a little closer to Tyme's, but the main character is Great, so he's the one we should be looking at. Also, in case it hasn't been fucking obvious, Tonkla is an essential character in 4 Minutes, which is why we're getting many scenes with him. The reason I mentioned the actors is pretty self-explanatory - people are mad their favourite actors are shown a specific amount of time, giving space to other plot lines and characters, instead of being there for the whole episode, as if the point of 4 Minutes is the romance between Tyme and Great and nothing else. Meanwhile, Bible himself was laughing and clapping and enjoying the flashback scene between Korn and Tonkla when they had their first time, because Bible wanted to be part of a good production, which he is and he recognizes it. But no, God forbid we get more context over KornTonkla, which is one of the most important relationships in the show, which guides Tonkla's actions, which moves the fucking PLOT of the SHOW. I could give the benefit of the doubt to people being upset Tonkla was shown for not even half of episode 4, but I won't, and the reason for that is because I'm sick and fucking tired of people getting their panties in a twist because a character who loves getting fucked is actually getting fucked in almost every episode. Good for him honestly, even if it's making him worse. (I've already ranted about this whole thing here, I'm not going to repeat myself) I don't know how your social media feeds are like anon, but mine are flooded with BibleJes + GreatTyme content and I rarely see anything about KornTonkla or Bas and Fuaiz or anything of the sort, so I can't agree with you that they're more talked about than the main actors/characters. (That's not the case on Tumblr though: I have a very varied feed + my lovely anon asks which give me the chance to talk about my boys and I'm thankful for that.) And I'm sorry, anon, but I'm going to have to disagree with you in the end: Great and Tyme do NOT feel like the side couple at all. They are and they feel very much like the main couple and they've had multiple scenes together in every single episode so far (at the hospital, in Great's garage, at the park, at the university, at the arcade, inside Great's car, at the rooftop of the hospital, at the warehouse, inside the tent etc). We've gotten plenty of fucking content for them AND also BOC has made sure to give Bible and Jes the chance to do a million interviews together + magazine photoshoots, with only half of the show being done, so fans have zero fucking reason to complain about anything. That's all. Rant over.

[pynkhues]

In spellverse there are probably conspiracy theories that

A) Louis and Lestat are actors hired by Daniel to expand his novel into a multi-media franchise, and their relationship is a PR stunt.

B) Lestat and Louis are LARP’ing superfans of Daniel’s book who are committed to the bit, and Daniel agreed to work with them for a cut of the profits. Every time they’re ‘caught by paparazzi’ they’re playing a scene. They may be exhibitionists because they got caught fucking or almost fucking a few times.

C) Louis and Lestat’s relationship is real and everything Daniel wrote was very loosely based on a true story. They think the ‘real’ story is: Louis was a wealthy art dealer and old acquaintance of Daniel who had a dull marriage. Louis cheated on his husband with a French sugar baby who was an aspiring singer. Daniel caught wind of the messy divorce and dramatised it with vampires to sell books. Lestat’s hatred for Armand is real but he’s using the fake story from the book to hide his home wrecking past! Posts on Reddit that ‘prove’ Lestat was a lounge singer in Dubai! Lestat refuses to tour in Paris because he’s hiding his sordid past before Louis began sleeping with him!

And the least-believed and most ridiculed conspiracy theory of all

D) They’re eternal vampire husbands and Daniel was telling the truth.

You get me, anon.

[thechaoticfanartist]

Grim deserves to be a bit more unhinged in the Rebellion I think

[svtskneecaps]

friends and fiends if this truly spells the Over for the qsmp i may let the brainworms that have been festering in me for MONTHS--A YEAR, EVEN--win.

i may summarize the goddamn fucking lore.

[missdarhk]

HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYS HOPE EVERYONE HAS A WONDERFUL AND EPIC (wink wink) 2025 HURRAH