#even if it's just like a self-contained explosion

[joejhang]

when i say i want jeremy knox to crash out i mean i want him to CRASH OUT. i want it to be debilitating. i want it to be brutal. i want him to lose it so bad people think he won't recover. i want him to lose his goddamn mind. i want everyone around him to panic and lose it too, because jeremy is always in control, always knows what he's doing, and he's finally been derailed. i want him to lose control and spiral and devolve and i want all the tentative threads holding him and his family and whatever past transgressions he has to unravel and for him to lose it so badly everyone gets worried that he won't make it out alive. i want every terrible thing in his past, big or small, to catch up with him and eat him alive. i want him to be irretrievable inconsolable unreachable i want him to be so out of it everyone is kind of like "well what the fuck do we do now" like if it's not that kind of a crash out i don't want it.

[blank-potato]

I Love The Girl With Magic Ways

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Witch!Reader

Summary:

He��s there, standing at the foot of your bed, shadows clinging to him like silk. Those eyes, golden and curious, lock onto yours. Not threatening. Not kind. Just... watching. “You dream of me,” he says, not asking. You swallow, and the air thickens. “That's not an invitation to break into my room at night.” He tilts his head, taking a step closer. “You called me. You always do—when your thoughts stray, when your control slips. You think about me more than you care to admit.” You don’t respond. Can’t. Because he’s not wrong. Or When training with Bob goes awry, you come face-to-face with The Void, and he's interested in you; he wants to know what makes you tick.

WC: 2.5k

A/N: Title from Magic Ways by Tatsuro Yamashita (such a good song). I'll probably write a part 2 to this, methinks (linked below). Here's the link to the request here. Enjoy!

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

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He’d broken the mirrors and the containment shields in the training facility and accidentally thrown you into a wall with his mind.

Training with Bob wasn’t going well.

It was frustrating, more for him than you, but still difficult. When you had tried to help him focus, to channel his power, you’d taken a gentle approach, even though gentleness didn’t come naturally to you all the time.

“I swear, I didn’t mean to.”

“I know…," you groan, brushing dust off your sleeve as you push yourself up.

You make your way back over to him. He’s sitting on the floor, hands in his lap, and anxiety is coming off him in waves.

“It’s okay,” you say softly, sitting beside him. “You’ll get it.”

You don’t know if the look on your face is reassuring or just tired, but judging by the way he won’t meet your eyes, it probably isn’t convincing. He doesn’t seem any more confident.

You sit next to him, trying to think of how to teach him control in a way he’ll actually absorb. You sigh, watching him.

“When I harness my magic, it’s like… holding energy, shifting it from one place to another, like water between cupped hands. Maybe if I show you how I do it, you can follow. How’s that sound?” You sigh, not meaning to sound tired, but you swear you still have a crick in the neck from hitting the wall.

“I’ll give it a shot.”

You nod, the light glowing in your hands, flickering softly like a heartbeat. Bob finds it beautiful, the way you shape it and mould it with such ease. He doesn’t fully understand it himself, not yet, but there’s awe in his eyes.

“Your turn,” you say gently, passing the moment to him.

He tries. Nothing happens at first, just stillness, but then there’s a faint buzzing in the air, a low hum that tickles the edges of your senses. He can feel it. So can you. His eyes glow as he concentrates.

He’s getting there, but—

“Just a little more…”

Your hand hovers next to his, almost touching, and suddenly, there’s a jolt, like a circuit overloading. Lights flicker, then short out, sparks raining from a fixture above. Half the room is thrown into darkness, the other half stuttering with flickering light.

Bob exhales sharply, his face contorting in frustration. “I messed up again,” he mutters, rubbing a hand down his face. It had been at least the tenth mistake in the last thirty minutes, and it was starting to wear him down.

“Control can be hard to learn, but it doesn’t mean it’s impossible…,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, calm, and reassuring.

“I’m hopeless…” Bob murmurs, the words heavy with self-doubt. His chuckle is bitter, empty, and the silence that follows feels louder than any explosion. His eyebrows knit together, and he looks away, shoulders slumping under the weight of his frustration.

You step closer, the glow still dancing faintly in your palms.

“You’re not hopeless. You’re learning. And that’s never a straight line.”

You feel a chill slide down your spine as something shifts, and darkness begins to creep in, curling at the edges of the room like smoke spilling through cracks.

“Bob?” You call again, more urgent now.

The room is fading into a thick, velvet black, seeping into every crevice, swallowing light and colour like a slow tide.

“Bob? Talk to me,” you say, your voice cutting through the dark, a single thread trying to reach him before the void does. It’s too late, though. 

He keeps his head down. It’s clear the words aren’t even getting to him anymore. The darkness overtakes him, swallowing him whole. What emerges is a shadowy figure only being illuminated by the faint flickering light of the broken overheads.

You step toward him, slow and cautious, before you meet his gaze.

His golden eyes glint back at you through the dark, sharp and gleaming with something unreadable. A sinister smile works its way onto his face, deliberate, unsettling in its calmness.

“I’m curious about you,” The Void murmurs, voice low and unnervingly calm. “I want to know what you can do.”

“And I want to talk to Bob,” you retort, eyes narrowing.

“You are talking to Bob,” it replies, with a slight twist of amusement, mocking, almost cruel. “...a part of him, at least.”

You smirk, sharp and laced with sarcasm. “Charming.”

He steps closer and invades your space like a cold draft slithering under a door. The air tightens, heavy and bitter. You can feel his presence: not just beside you, but around you, coiling like smoke, probing.

Still, you hold your ground, looking straight into his eyes. You don’t flinch. “How interesting,” he muses, tilting his head. His darkness moves again, tendrils slipping toward you, tasting the air around your magic, your thoughts, your fear.

But they meet resistance. Your magic flares, and the darkness recoils, hissing as it brushes against your glow.

You remain standing, untouched.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you say, voice like steel wrapped in silk. “And Bob isn’t yours to keep.”

He studies you before letting out a low, curious laugh. “No,” he says finally. “Maybe not.”

“Could I keep you instead?” The Void asks, voice low, almost amused, but there’s something sincere beneath it. He reaches out to touch your face, fingers grazing the space between you.

But you grab his hand before he can. You laugh softly, a little disbelieving.

"I think I suit you quite nicely," he murmurs, undeterred.

"I can see what they can't," he continues, his eyes narrowing, glinting with something ancient and knowing. "The anger, power right at your fingertips and yet you try to play the hero. Why?"

“I’m not playing at anything,” you say firmly, voice steady, eyes locked on his.

He leans in, the shadows around him thickening, curling like tendrils reaching out. They’re dark, hungry, trying to pull you closer, to draw you into their world.

But you fight back. Not with every ounce of will you have, pushing against the invisible pull, anchoring yourself.

“I beg to differ,” he murmurs, his breath grazing your skin like a whisper, cold and intoxicating. “Such wasted potential. All for the notion of being good when you could be so much more.”

You reach out, your hand hovering near his temple. Your fingers glow, light pulsing softly, alive. He watches, unblinking, as your magic stirs in the air like smoke catching fire. It’s ethereal, coiling, licking at him, and it has him curious. 

You're trying to see into his mind, but—

“I think the real question is…” he interrupts knowingly, tilting his head, “…are we inside your mind or mine?”

The words twist around you like a spell, and suddenly, the weight shifts. The darkness starts to peel away from your limbs, sloughing off like ash in the wind. You blink, feeling the ground under you change, reality sliding sideways.

The Void just smiles.

“I’ll see you soon.”

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You’re still thinking about it… about him.

Every time you’re training with Bob, he’s there, at the edge of your thoughts. You’re not in fear. You’re not scared of the Void, not really. It’s more like a wariness, a flicker of unease that one wrong move, one flare of power, might open the door again. Might bring him back.

It was wrong. And confusing. But a small part of you wanted to see him again. 

Your mind drifts when you’re not paying attention. Whether it’s during missions, training, or even in bed. He’s in your dreams when you fall asleep, and sometimes, you wake up imagining the ghost of his voice in your ear.

The Void hadn’t tried to hurt you. No, he watched you, studied you. And in some twisted way, he seemed to want you. Not to harm, not to destroy… but to possess, to understand. You just wanted to know why. What did he see in you? What was it about you that drew something like him in?

One night, you’re in bed, the day heavy on your bones, the world finally going quiet around you. You’re slipping closer and closer to sleep…

But you sense it, that shift in the air, a pulse of dark presence curling at the edges of your senses. You feel him before you even open your eyes.

“This is bordering on obsession,” you sigh, eyes still closed.

You hear him laugh, low and amused. The sound crawls down your spine, equal parts unsettling and intimate.

“Not bordering. It is obsession,” he replies, and you can hear the smile in his voice, like he’s proud of it.

Reluctantly, you open your eyes.

He’s there, standing at the foot of your bed, shadows clinging to him like silk. Those eyes, golden and curious, lock onto yours. Not threatening. Not kind. Just... watching.

“You dream of me,” he says, not asking.

You swallow, and the air thickens. “That's not an invitation to break into my room at night.”

He tilts his head, taking a step closer. “You called me. You always do, when your thoughts stray, when your control slips. You think about me more than you care to admit.”

You don’t respond. Can’t.

Because he’s not wrong.

“You’re speechless,” he teases, voice like velvet laced with static. He sits on the edge of your bed, casual, as if he belongs there.

You shift away instinctively, creating space, as if a few more inches could keep him from seeing straight through you.

“Biding my time. There’s a difference,” you reply, keeping your voice even, though your pulse betrays you.

The Void watches you closely, amused by your defiance. Or maybe by the fact that even now, you're still trying to guard yourself. Still playing the game.

His eyes flicker, a faint glow blooming within them like embers. “You may say you don’t want me here, but you keep opening doors.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose,” you bite back, sharper than intended. He smiles, but there’s something beneath it, something hungry. “That’s the best part.”

His hand twitches slightly, not reaching for you, but close. Waiting. 

“You’re more than you think. More than they let you be, more than you let yourself be.”

The air thickens again, and you’re feeling him again, his presence threads through the room like smoke.

“What do you want from me?” You ask, tired of circles.

Suddenly, he sounds less teasing, more honest. 

“To see you become more than this,” He leans closer as if observing you, “You’re no hero. You’re something else entirely.”

He almost sounds in awe of you.

You want to lie. You want to turn away, pretend you don’t feel it, the weight of his words, the strange reverence in his voice.

But in some weird, completely twisted way…you felt seen.

“Show me what you can do,” he says softly, like a challenge… or a plea.

Against your better judgment, your hands move. Fingers lift with purpose, glowing as your magic rises like a tide. Not to attack. Just to beckon. To draw him in that fraction closer.

And he comes.

He leans in, unflinching, until his lips hover just a breath away from yours. The air between you hums with tension, your power brushing over him.

He doesn’t flinch. He invites it.

He looks at you, eyes gleaming. They weren’t cold, but burning. Goading.

“Do it,” he whispers. “Manipulate me. I want to see you try.”

Your magic coils, crackling faintly between you both, held barely in check. It licks at his skin like fire starved of air. You could push. You could twist something in him, see what bends and what breaks.

That thought strikes sharp and fast, and then you remember.

Bob. Somewhere beyond this darkness, behind the weight of The Void’s presence, he’s there. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t risk hurting him.

You lower your hands slowly, magic fading from your fingertips. The crackle in the air dies with it, and you feel the release.

The Void sighs dramatically. “What? You don’t want to hurt me? I’m disappointed.”

You vanish from in front of him, slipping through space in a blink, reappearing beside him, your lips by his ear, breath warm and taunting.

“I live to disappoint,” you murmur with biting sarcasm.

He chuckles, low and amused, the sound vibrating in your chest more than your ears.

“So you’re playing with me then?” he asks, a smile curling through his voice, teasing and predatory.

You teleport again, this time behind him, close enough to feel his back press against your body like the edge of a knife.

“Something like that,” You say, voice calm, almost bored.

This little verbal spar you had with him was… addictive. A dangerous dance on a wire stretched taut between temptation and control.

But then he shifts, turning around to face you. 

His expression darkens, not angry or violent, but filled with intent. He turns, slowly, deliberately, and starts walking you back with that same quiet pressure in the air that makes your skin prickle.

You don’t step away. You should, but you don’t.

Then, his hand reaches out, and in a second, you’re pinned against the wall. The cold wall meets your spine, and again, before you can blink, he lifts you effortlessly with his mind, sliding you up until your feet leave the ground. His body never touches yours, but his presence crashes over you like a wave.

“I don’t want to play games,” he says, voice low and electric. You meet his eyes, your own burning with something halfway between challenge and adrenaline.

“But this one is so much fun,” you quip back, your tone reckless, like flicking sparks into a powder keg.

His jaw clenches, just slightly. Not in rage. In restraint.

“I came to see you,” he says, eyes scanning your face like a puzzle he hasn’t yet solved. “But all you do is run and hide behind your clever little words.”

“Maybe you need to chase me,” you reply, breath shallow but steady. The Void pauses, his voice surprisingly soft when he answers, “And how long would you make me chase you?”

You meet his gaze, your heart skipping.

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you disappear from his hold, reappearing right in front of him, so close you can see the sweep of his eyelashes. You lean in just a little more, the space between you charged.

“Until I think you’ve had enough.”

His eyes widen a little, but he stifles it. 

“Until I’ve had enough…” he repeats to himself, quietly, like he’s tasting the words. He searches your eyes, there’s something in you, something he needs. Finally, a slow, dark smirk spreads across his lips.

“We’ll see.”

The energy between you crackles, thick and electric. You both want this; he wants to pull you into the darkness, to make you lose yourself. Sure, you wanted to play with him, but you could kiss him and still keep him at bay.

But just as your eyes flutter shut and you feel the weight of his presence drawing near, then suddenly there’s only air.

You open your eyes, breath catching. You turn and he’s standing by your door, smiling at you again.

“I’ll see you soon.”

With that, he fades away, leaving you standing alone, still in your mind.

Masterlist

[izadi234]

Forget me not

-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English.

Yan! Batfamily x gn!

Chapters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6 (You're here)

Chapter 7

Chapter 6

Meanwhile Duke and you spent the afternoon playing at an arcade and while you were playing, Duke checked the family group. Dick had sent a message calling for a meeting but he ignored it and decided to focus on spending time with you.

Alfred's plan must have already started

After playing for a while you both decided to go to dinner at Duke's favorite restaurant so you could talk in a more relaxed way. These moments with you made Duke feel like he was a little kid again, forgetting about school, his parents' tragedy and even that he was a vigilante. Once you got to the restaurant and sat at your table, you talked a little about some series and video games that you both liked until Duke asked something that he had never dared to ask before.

"Can I ask you a question, (Name)?"

"Sure!" you nodded

"Why are you studying journalism?" the younger one asked

Duke was not stupid, he was also a detective like the rest of the family, he knew that your career decision had been made because of the death of your parents, but he wanted to know about your life before the mansion.

And so maybe he'll know how to make your next stay more comfortable

"Well umm..." you said a little thoughtfully but still smiling

"I don't think I've told you about my mom and... and my dad, right? Before I went to live at Wayne Manor" you specified

Duke just shook his head as he waited for you to continue talking.

"Well, I chose my career because of them"

"And why?" Duke asked a little more insistently "And Bruce wasn't your father?"

"I mean, if Bruce is my father biologically speaking but..." you sighed and looked at him with a sad smile

"I think it won't hurt to tell you. I trust you" you took his hand in yours and squeezed gently making Duke smile at you

"Before living in Wayne Manor, I lived with my mom and another man, his name was (F/N) (father's name) and he met my mother when she had found out that she was pregnant with me. They met by chance, my mother was a great scientist and he was a journalist and the day they met, he came to interview Bruce for a new project they were doing. He was lost in the big building of Wayne Enterprices and that's where he found mom. She kindly helped him and from what he once told me he was immediately smitten by her. They started dating and ended up falling in love but before that my mom found out that she was pregnant with me and it was clearly not (F/N)'s, but when she told him about her pregnancy and who I was child of, he didn't care and he was with her throughout her pregnancy. Mom quit Wayne Enterprises and moved in with my father. Then I was born and everything was perfect until... one day it wasn't anymore..." you started to tell him, but at the end of your story you had a more somber face

"I..." Duke wanted to talk but he didn't know what to say "And... what happened next?"

You hesitated to talk but he was Duke, he was YOUR brother, of course you could trust him

"Dad was covering an event in downtown Gotham when there was an explosion near the place. I remember it like it was yesterday" you smiled sadly "I was always excited to see him on television and that day was no exception. My mother and I were in the TV room, she was sitting on the couch while laughing at my excitement and I was sitting on the floor in front of the TV. And it was when he was announcing the capture of the Joker in a building when an explosion happened causing the signal to cut out. My mother immediately took me away from the TV and we both went to my room where she tried to calm me down, making sure he was okay but I knew she was scared too. Hours later I fell asleep but I woke up to my mom crying and that was when I knew dad hadn't made it. The funeral was the next day and even though she tried to look strong I knew she was just as bad or worse off than me. Months later, my mom started getting sick, I thought it was because of her low mood but she soon had to be admitted to the hospital. She was diagnosed with terminal cancer and had at most a few months left, in the meantime I stayed with a neighbor, she was an old lady but I saw her as a grandmother. She took me to see my mom every day and one of those days I heard them talking about my real father. Mom tried to convince my nanny to adopt me when she was gone but my nanny refused, she said I would live a better life with my biological father. Weeks later she died too and immediately child services contacted Bruce and well you know the rest"

You looked at Duke still with a small smile

"Does anyone else know all this?" Duke asked after a few seconds of silence

"Nope" you shook your head "Well, Alfred but in a very general way, just what child services told him when he picked me up from that place"

"And yes, I chose to study journalism because of my father. He inspired me a lot when I was little and to this day my dad and mom do it. So, have you finished that project you told me about the other day?"

"Let me walk you home" you said to Duke as you walked through the almost dark streets of Gotham

"Oh no, really! I don't want to cause you any trouble" Duke said a little embarrassed

"Of course not Duke!" you put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed him a little "You're my brother, I'm not going to leave you alone in these dangerous streets"

"I'm a vigilante" he reminded you

"And?" you hugged him

"You're always going to be my little brother"

"You're embarrassing me!" the boy exclaimed as he tried to separate himself from the hug although to be honest, he would never reject a hug from you

"Oh no, they just grow up and they don't even want a hug from their sibling anymore" you said dramatically making both of them laugh

"But seriously, I'll give you a ride to Wayne Manor" you said

"Do you have a car?!" He asked surprised

"No... but a motorcycle, I left it in a parking lot near here. Let's go."

They walked until they reached a parking lot where you had your motorcycle at the back. You handed him your helmet so he could put it on.

"What about you?" Duke asked when he noticed that you only had one helmet

"Don't worry, I'm more worried about you" you said as you got on your motorcycle, followed by him

"Ready?" you turned to look at him

"Ready!" he nodded

"Okay, hold on!" you said before starting the motorcycle

The more Jason looked through the box, the more he felt like he knew you. You liked taking pictures, that was a fact and on the last pages of the album you had some notes next to the photo, describing the situation of the photo.

"Jason?" a voice called from the door of the living room, it was Dick

Realizing that Jason hadn't heard him, the acrobat approached and touched his shoulder making Jason jump a little because he wasn't expecting it.

"What do you want, Dickhead?" he asked irritated

"I was..." Dick interrupted his words when he saw that his brother had several things around him

"What is that?" Jason turned to look at your things again, his expression less hard.

"They're (Name)'s"

"And who gave them to you?" Dick asked as he sat next to him

"Alfred"

"Alfred? Why would he have (Name)'s things?" Dick asked as he grabbed a small purple blanket

"It's some stuff that they probably threw away over time or forgot to take" Jason said as he looked back at the photo album Dick noticed Jason's gaze that was resting on the book and decided to take it but before he could do so Jason grabbed Dick's wrist preventing him from doing so which caused the older man to look at him strangely.

"Jason..?" His voice brought him back to reality.

"Yeah I'm sorry" he let go of his wrist

"It's a photo album. It's (Name)'s" Jason let Dick take the album and he started to flip through it in silence while Jason looked at other things in the box.

"Who is this man?" Dick asked referring to your father

"I have no idea" Jason admitted

"Maybe Babs can recognize him" he said to continue looking at the photos

"Wait... Do you have photos with them?!" Dick exclaimed in surprise

"Yeah..." Jason smiled proudly

"And why don't I have a picture with them?!" Dick said dramatically "I'm their older brother!"

"But I'm their favorite brother" Jason stressed

That couldn't be possible! Dick was EVERYONE'S favorite brother! How could Jason be YOURS?!

"You damn...!" Dick was going to throw himself at Jason if it wasn't for a presence behind them

"What the hell is going on?" asked Bruce who looked at them confused

"And who is all this from?"

"It's from (Name)" said his sons at the same time

"Have you found anything?" asked Jason to Bruce

"No" sighed Bruce as he sat on the couch

"The day of their departure they turned off the cameras for several hours and cleaned their room excellently well"

Jason sighed a little desperate.

"Well... We haven't found anything either but, Jason found this" Dick gave Bruce the album

"Maybe it won't help in finding them but maybe it will help... get to know them better" Dick spat out those last words as if he was ashamed of not knowing his brother/sister for 15 years Bruce started looking at the album like his two sons had done before

"And this man?" he asked when he saw your father of course he remembered your mother, she was very beautiful but equally intelligent.

Yes, it was a very serious loss in his company when she left but this man, he had already seen him before but... where?

"We don't know" Jason said

"I'm going to tell Tim, Stephanie and Barbara to identify him" Bruce said taking the photo of your first birthday. You looked so happy despite being only one year old and what a beautiful smile, it was just like your mother's but... he had never seen him up close

"And what are the others doing?" Jason asked, snapping him out of his thoughts

"Tim, Stephanie, and Barbara are in the Batcave looking through the cameras, and if they have social media, Damian and Cass are still in their room looking for a clue, although to be honest, I'm starting to doubt it," Bruce sighed again

"And Duke?" Jason asked

"Duke..?" Bruce's eyes suddenly opened as he remembered the newest member of the Wayne Family

"He didn't answer or see the messages I sent to the group either," Dick said as he checked his cell phone

"That's it! Duke!" Bruce exclaimed with a smile on his face, causing Dick and Jason to look at each other in confusion

"Okay...?”

“In the morning Duke had told me that he was going out with (Name) so he should know where they are" he explained to them

"Duke and (Name) get along?" Jason asked surprised and a little jealous

"That's right, Master Jason" said Alfred who was standing at the entrance of the room

"Young Master Duke and Master (Name) have maintained a friendly relationship since he arrived at the mansion" explained the older name

"Ha!" laughed Dick while patting him on the back "It seems that you are no longer his favorite"

That made Jason feel a pressure in his chest.

He had to be YOUR FAVORITE again

"Alfred could you give this to Tim, Steph and Barbara, please?" Bruce gave Alfred the photo of your first birthday "Have them identify the man in the picture"

"Of course, Master Bruce" nodded the butler and then left

"So what? Are we going to wait for Duke to arrive?" Jason asked a little gruffly, still angry

"I think we shouldn't wait for him to arrive, Master Jason," Alfred commented as he looked out the window

"Why do you say that?" Dick asked as the three men stood up

"Because he is already here.”

"Well bro, this is where I'm at" you said as you stood on your motorcycle in front of the large doors that gave access to the great Wayne mansion

"Are you sure you don't want to go in and say hello to Alfred?" Duke asked as he took off his helmet and gave it to you

"No thanks. I love Alfred but I wouldn't go in that place again for the life of me" you said as you covered the license plates of your motorcycle with your jacket now that Duke got off. You were a little paranoid like your father but could you be blamed? This place gave you the creeps.

"Okay then I think this is where we say goodbye" Duke said a little sad and you could notice it. You chuckled and hugged him without getting off your motorcycle.

"It's not a final goodbye, besides you have my number" you smiled at him

"I know, but the fact that you don't even live here now is very strange to me. I really miss you"

"And I miss you, little brother" you hugged him one last time

"Text me when you get home" he said once you put on your helmet

"Sure" you nodded as you started your bike

"See you later Duke! I love you"

"I love you too, (Name)" that was the last thing you said to each other before you left for your house

Duke sighed as he watched you leave, not looking back. He walked towards the entrance where the doors opened upon recognition and then walked a flight further until he reached the double doors of the large mansion.

Before he could knock on the door Alfred opened it and greeted him with his usual neutral tone of voice and a small smile which indicated to him that everything was going according to his plan.

"Good evening, young master" Alfred let him in

"Good evening Alfred"

"Master Bruce is waiting for you in the living room with young masters Dick and Jason" Alfred told him as Duke hung his jacket on the coat rack in the entrance

"And why are you looking for me?"

"To ask you about (Name)”

"You were looking for me Bruce?" asked Duke as he peeked through the door to the living room to see the three men sitting in the living room

"That's right Duke" nodded Bruce as he motioned for the younger man to sit

"Okay" he nodded as he took a seat next to Dick "What happened?"

"I need you to tell me everything you know about (Name)" Bruce told him

"And for what?" Duke acted confused

Bruce sighed. No matter how many times he repeated it, it always embarrassed him.

"I want to apologize to them"

"We ALL want to apologize to them" Dick corrected knowing that Bruce was not the only one to blame for this situation

"I have not been a good father to them, I didn't even try and now I see the consequences. My firstborn is away from this family because of me. I should have been more aware of them but I thought that since they weren't a vigilante, they would need less of my attention and now I see how wrong I was" he explained to Duke and then looked him in the eyes

"But you have been able to make a connection with them, and now I need all the information I can get from them so I can find them and tell them all that and more"

Duke sighed but inside he felt satisfaction seeing Bruce in that state, for all the harm he had caused his sibling.

A little punishment never hurt anyone, right?

But if he wanted you to come home then he had to help them, besides he still didn't know where you lived.

"Okay, but I don't have much information," Duke told him.

"We'll judge that," Jason said now, looking at him with a somewhat hard look.

Had he already discovered that he was now (Name)'s favorite?

That only filled him with more satisfaction.

"Okay," he nodded.

Before Bruce could say anything else, Tim arrived in the room, interrupting their conversation.

"Bruce, we've already identified the man."

They all went down to the Batcave and down there were Barbara and Stephanie talking and in the background, on the screen, they saw several pictures and information.

"What did you find?" asked Bruce as everyone approached the Batcomputer

"Well, the man in the picture with (Name) and their mother is (F/N) (L/N)" Barbara began to say "He studied journalism at Gotham University and he was married for 2 years to (M/N) (L/N) and gave his last name to (Name)"

"He died in an explosion caused by the Joker when (Name) was 4 years old, the same age they were when they came to the mansion" finished explaining Steph

Bruce already knew where he knew that man from. He had interviewed him several years ago. He was a very intelligent man and clever with words at that time which bothered him a little. From that interview onwards, the only one allowed to interview him was Clark or Lois, no one else could interview him.

But maybe if he had allowed (F/N) to keep interviewing him, maybe he would have known about his child's existence much sooner and maybe he wouldn't have made so many mistakes with you.

Just MAYBE…

"But isn't (Name) your child?" Dick asked Bruce confused

"Yes, they are" Duke said and everyone turned to look at him so he could continue talking

"They told me, today in fact. They told me about their life before the mansion. They told me that their mother met their father- I mean, (F/N) one day when he came to interview you Bruce" the young man turned to look at them

"And that in fact they're studying journalism like him because they were always inspired by what he did. They have a great memory" he said at the end with a tone of pride knowing that his brother/sister had many gifts even if they didn't realize it

"And how do you know all that?" Damian asked

"I spent the day with them today and they told me about it" Duke said as if it was no big deal

"You... You talk to them?" Tim asked as if he was trying to understand

"Yeah. They helped me a lot when I moved here" he explained

"You said he was studying journalism?" Bruce interrupted

"Yes" Duke nodded

"So if we don't know where he lives we can find out where he studies. Barbara, look up the records of Gotham University on all the journalism students" Bruce asked

"I'm already on it" Barbara nodded and then started typing on the batcomputer

"So... you two are close?" Tim asked Duke surprisingly

"I'd like to think so" Duke laughed a little nervously

"And what do you normally do with them?" With that question everyone started to pay attention even if they didn't look at him

"Well... It depends..." he said "Now that they don't live here anymore we go out to eat and to the arcade and even to the park. We mostly talk but before they left we spent a lot of time in the library, that place was their favorite of the whole mansion because it's more illuminated there. We used to read or they would tell me about some book and even gossip about their friends. From time to time, when you were busy they would train with me or we would also play video games. They are very good with technology and science"

"Did they train with you? Are they also vigilantes like us?" Damian asked for the first time curious about you

"No they are not vigilantes like us" that calmed Bruce down "But they are good at self-defense. They know how to fight"

"But how? I never taught them" Bruce asked

"They are your children Bruce, they are just as good at analysis and observation" then he walked to another monitor and looked for something on the computer. It was a video of both of you training.

In the video you had a sly smile that no one else besides Duke and Alfred had seen on you. While you were dressed in sportswear and some bandages on your knuckles. Duke was just like you, both looking defiant but not intimidating.

"Ready to lose?" Duke told you

"You wish" you smiled with a sly smile

Then you both started to fight, Duke being the first to throw the first blow which you managed to dodge. You both fought for a long time, neither of you giving up easily. After several minutes you both ended up on the ground tired and sweaty.

"Tie?" You suggested, stretching your fist out towards him

"Tie" he nodded, bumping his fist into yours

"You're getting better" you congratulated him

"It's not that bad" Duke said, a little embarrassed with the compliment you gave him

"Of course it is" you patted him on the back "You're getting better pretty fast, I know you'll be able to face Grayson and Todd soon, and maybe one day you'll even be able to match or be better than Bruce"

"Thanks, (Name)" Duke smiled at you

"Don't mention it" you smiled back and stood up

"Shall we take a break?" you offered him a hand to get him up

"Sure" Duke took your hand and stood up

And that was the end of the video Duke was showing them.

"Yeah, they're good training partners," Duke said with a smile.

"I found something," Barbara said, cutting off the tense moment.

Everyone focused on the screen Barbara was working on, looking at a picture of you on the screen and next to it your college information.

"(Name) (L/N), third semester journalism student at Gotham University," Barbara read.

"(L/N)?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah, apparently when they turned 18 they changed their last name," Barbara nodded.

He didn't know anything about you, but he was sure of one thing and that was that he had given you his last name.

You weren't a (L/N)

You were a WAYNE

But don't worry, that would soon be fixed.

"But that's not the important thing," Jason said. "Where do they live?"

"They live in an apartment complex near the university" Barbara said

"Send me the address alone" Bruce ordered

"Bruce! / Father! / B!" everyone started to complain but Bruce silenced them with a look

"Don't even start" he warned them "I'm more than sure that if any of you have this information, they will immediately go looking for you but, we must avoid howling at them because they will most likely be furious with all of us"

Everyone looked at the ground at his words, all of them feeling a little bad.

"So let's wait a bit to face them. Now, everyone goes to rest, it's been a tiring day"

Reluctantly, everyone went to rest while the only ones left downstairs were Bruce and Barbara.

"Don't give them the information. It's an order" Bruce told Barbara

"Understood" she nodded

"Okay, now go rest" he said so the girl could go rest too

Then he turned to look at the big screen where your picture was.

You looked so much like your mother and seeing it from that point of view, he was happy, he already had enough with having Damian, who was already very similar to him. He couldn't wait to meet you again after 15 years.

Well as they say, better late than never, right?

Helloooo!

How are you all? I hope everyone liked this chapter! I'll try to post more frecuently. Anyway if you liked this chapter I will invite you leave a heart, reblog or interact in any other way as leaving asks or comments as I would love to heart your opinions and any sugestiones you may have for the story or even theories.

Thank you for reading! See you in the next one!

PD: I have put everyone that has told me to add them in the TAG LIST so please check it out to see If I have make a mistake or something hahahaha.

-Izadi <3

TAG LIST

@eyeless-kun @profounddestinyrebel @holyfishbailiffpeanut @toast-on-dandelioms @dhanyasri @kiarst @phoenixgurl030 @wpdarlingpan @glitterisname @sackofsadstuff @riddle-me-im-sirius @sirenetheblogger @bat1212 @bluelock4life @revysplacexxx @skz-goose @mistfire1999 @vanessa-boo @tatsuri-zomushiki @kore-of-the-underworld @milliu @lee-bits @ch1@ch1cky-093 @leiiasurez @bluemidnightmelodies @lilyalone @plsfckmedxddy @lovebug-apple @jisnothere @akanegotlost @stormz369 @sugarpiehoe @mddbsf @shhhhhhhhhhtellnobody @i-adorehannah @darktrashpoetry @fantasyhopperhea @d3sperate-enuf @expctron @horror-lover-69 @caffeinatedhearts12 @niggrroo @v3llev3t3 @cynniee @imhere2dosomething @verypersonadazzel @asillysimp @type-ink @wisefuncherryblossom @haruskrd @angelicbear @zoeyburton @twismare @bad4amficideas @casspen-starlight @gwyneveire @ferchu0406 @erinhan08 @yoopsity @aki-anikk @24-7aroundtheclockanxious @ferntv @hunter-hears-all @gwyneveire @yuyuzi-ling @shirp-collector-of-fixations @welpthisisboring @jellyedkazoo @mellowcloudland @rainwaterxx @lunaetiicsaystuff @ryuushou @butratherbutrather @tiredhealer5 @nemesis-writer @jjsmeowthie @a4g3lstarfire @chibikochannumberone @hayley1234 @thestarry-nightfox @kittzu @sillyheartmoonnyx

[marvelstoriesepic]

Lie Better

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: After a failed mission, you hide an injury to avoid looking weak. But you can’t escape Bucky’s watchful gaze.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: enemies to lovers vibe; graphic descriptions of injury and untreated wounds; low self-worth; emotional suppression

Author’s Note: Thank you for this request, my dear! I had fun bringing it to life. Hope you’ll enjoy ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

The lights in the briefing room are too bright.

They buzz overhead like an accusation and spill white over tired faces and blood-stiff uniforms.

The table is long and cold and metal. You sit at the far end, spine rigid, eyes forward, your body still echoing with the aftershocks of the mission.

Nobody is talking about what went wrong. No one ever does.

Steve says something about containment protocols. Natasha nods. Sam makes a clipped joke no one laughs at.

You stare at the holographic blueprint glowing in the center of the table and pretend you don’t feel the heat of Bucky’s eyes boring into the side of your skull like a warning shot that hasn’t fired yet.

You don’t look at him. But that doesn’t seem to bother him. He’s been watching you since you stepped back onto the quinjet right after the failed mission. Hasn’t said a word.

Your side throbs and you try not to flinch when you shift your shoulder and it sings agony down your spine. You keep your arms folded, elbows tight to your ribs in the hopes of keeping them together.

But you’re fine. Or at least you are supposed to be. The mission is over - failed, but over. The explosions have stopped. The sky is not on fire anymore. So you must be fine.

You stepped onto the quinjet earlier, zipped up your tactical suit, and ignored the crimson that stained the inside like rusted guilt. You stood tall beside your team, among the living legends who don’t bleed and don’t fall and don’t feel like failures. You walked into the compound pretending the floor wasn’t swaying and that you didn’t see stars glow behind your eyelids.

And now, in the debrief of said failed mission, you don’t really say anything. Just low responses when prompted, clipped and tactical.

Bucky hasn’t said a damn thing for the entire hour. Not to Steve. Not to you. Not even when Sam mentions a breach in the lower wing and looks toward Bucky with the expectation of a rundown. Bucky says nothing. Just leans back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. A muscle ticks in his jaw.

Because every time someone talks, every time the screen flickers with mission footage, every time you glance down at your trembling hand and will it still, he’s looking at you.

His gaze scrapes across your skin like sandpaper, cataloging your movements like a file being updated in real time.

You feel it like a fingerprint pressed to your skin. Heavy. Heated. He’s not subtle when it comes to you.

Bucky stares as if he’s reading the parts of you you’ve never let anyone see. As if he knows things you haven’t said out loud. As if he’s trying to find a reason not to say them first.

You shift in your seat. And the world tips. Not far, just a breath, but it’s enough for you to clench your jaw so hard it stings.

He sees it.

His eyes snap down. You wonder if he’s tallying up your mistakes, your imperfections, the way he always used to.

Your skin pulses hot and slick, a slow-drum ache that’s spreading its limbs now. You’re pretty sure something inside you shifted wrong, but it doesn’t matter. You can’t say that. Not here. Not with him looking at you like that.

As though he already knows.

As though he’s angry about it.

You push up from your chair before they’ve dismissed you. You move fast. Too fast. The movement sends pain ricocheting through your side and you bite down on it, hard enough to taste metal.

You don’t limp, this time. The last time you limped off the quinjet, he made sure to point it out with narrowed eyes. But your steps are too careful, your gait off-balance, your body feels misaligned with the floor.

Your blood is still warm where it shouldn’t be. Your shoulder is soaked through, the pain urgent.

You reach your door.

And you don’t hear him until he’s behind you.

“Didn’t look too good in there.”

You freeze, fingers still pressed to the panel. His voice is low, but not quiet. There’s is something resembling rust in it. Wear.

You don’t turn. “Pretty sure that applies to half the team.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one still bleeding,” he says, flat.

You don’t say anything.

He waits.

And you hate how he does that. Just stands there. Just waits. As if he’s not going to speak again until you do.

“I’m not going to the med bay.” The words are sharper than you mean them to be. Or maybe you don’t care how sharp they are.

“Didn’t say you have to,” he answers gruffly.

You swipe your door open, slip inside, and it almost closes, but his hand is there.

He stops the door and pushes it open again, steps in, and lets it seal behind him without asking, without invitation, without hesitation.

You don’t turn around. You don’t want to see his face. Don’t want to know what his mouth is doing or what his eyes are trying to say.

Instead, you sit down on the edge of your bed because standing is no longer an option. Your shoulder screams when you start peeling back the sleeve of your suit. You hiss and your hand falls away.

In the mirror on the wall, you catch Bucky’s hands curl into fists.

He doesn’t say anything, just moves, and you hear him pull something from the med kit on your desk - gauze, antiseptic, quiet clicks and snaps. You stare at the wall, refusing to meet his eyes in the reflection.

Still, without a word, he comes kneeling in front of you. His hand hovers for a second too long before brushing yours away. There is blood on his knuckles still.

“I’ve got it,” you mutter weakly.

He ignores you.

Cool metal fingers tug the fabric down and you flinch without meaning to.

“Stop moving,” he instructs, though his hands still for a second, his words come through gritted teeth and he says it with a voice too soft.

Slow and controlled, he peels the suit back further.

Your breath is uneven. You think of all the times he’s looked at you as if you’re a mistake waiting to happen. All the clipped comments, the tension, the cold.

And now he’s here, in your room, on his knees in front of you.

The antiseptic burns and your breath catches. His hand steadies your arm. Not tight. Almost soothing.

You hate that it helps.

“I didn’t ask you for this,” you clarify, barely in a whisper.

“No,” he states evenly. “You didn’t.”

The gash on your shoulder is deep. Ugly. Stitched with shrapnel. His fingers smear salve across the worst of it.

You glance down and see his brow tight, jaw flexed, mouth tugged in a frown. He looks as if he’s trying to keep something down. Something sharp.

He doesn’t say why he’s doing this. Doesn’t ask if it hurts. He cleans the wound in silence. You flinch again. He pauses. Not a word. Just eases his hand back, slows his movements, rolls his tense shoulders.

You don’t know what to do with him acting this way. With his hands being so gentle with you.

But his voice still isn’t.

“Shouldn’t have ignored this.” His eyes flick to yours, then away again.

You press your lips together and watch the way his hands move. Experienced. Unshaking.

“You always think you can do everything alone,” he says after a long pause. “You think that’s strength.”

Your mouth fills with copper. “You get that from reading my mind?” you ask rather unkindly.

His eyes fly up and catch yours like glass catching sun. They hold this time, just long enough to knock the breath sideways in your chest.

“No,” he says, calm and low. “I get it from watching you limp off the quinjet and pretend your ribs weren’t giving out.”

That lands too close. You look away.

His hands keep moving. He’s pressing a fresh wrap into place now, pulling it snug. Not too tight, but enough to hold. His fingers brush your skin and they are cool where you are fever-warm.

“You favor your left when you’re exhausted,” he adds, voice quieter now, talking as if this is a passive observation. A note. “You’ve been doing that since Moscow.”

You blink. Moscow was months ago.

It was the first week-long mission you ever had with the man in front of you. It went sideways. You took a pretty big hit.

You didn’t expect him to still think about this.

“You take notes on everyone like that?” you ask dryly.

He shrugs. “Not everyone’s got your talent for pretending they’re inscrutable.”

The silence is filled with things neither of you are going to say.

You press the heel of your hand against your brow. Breathe through your teeth. “I’m not pretending to be anything, Barnes.”

“And yet, you said nothing.” He doesn’t say it as a reprimand. He says it as a fact he’s disappointed to keep collecting.

You breathe out sharply.

You’ve never made it easy between you two. You know that. Ever since they threw you on the same team, there’s been some friction. He’s quiet and disciplined and splits the world into useful and not. You are stubborn and made of sharp turns.

You bicker a lot. Get under each other’s skin.

He doesn’t trust easily. You don’t like being watched.

You told yourself he doesn’t like you. It was simpler that way. Now he is fixing what you won’t admit is broken. Not exactly looking at you as if he hates you.

And somehow that’s worse.

Bucky tapes the last piece of gauze down with the same careful pressure. Then he sits back on his heels, metal hand flexing at his side.

You pull your arm back, testing the tension. It’s tight. Secure. You flex your fingers to prove something, even if you’re not sure what.

Bucky keeps sitting there, keeps watching you.

“I’m fine,” you say. Uselessly. But it’s easier than saying thank you and it’s the most practiced lie in your arsenal anyway.

His brow lifts, faint. But he doesn’t say anything. He just stands with a grunt, packing the things he used together. He moves slow.

You watch the way his shoulders move. Still coiled. Still prepared. As if his body doesn’t know the mission is over.

You take a moment to breathe in. Breathe out. Then you open your mouth to say the words that will most likely burn on your tongue. “Thank you.” It comes out quieter than intended, but you know he picks it up.

He doesn’t respond, but the mirror shows you the way he stills in his movements for a moment.

Then he heads to the door without a glance back.

“You walk as if it’s the shoulder, but you’re guarding your ribs.” His voice is a low earthquake. Not loud, but enough to crack you open if you’re not careful.

You freeze.

“Next time,” he says, voice rough, pausing at the threshold, “at least lie better.”

Then he’s gone.

And you’d like to curse him out.

[neesu]

Give in, baby

MDNI +18 only

Contains: dom!reader x sub!katsuki, established relationship, initial power dynamic, brat-taming, jealousy, sexual tension, bondage, degradation, aftercare

Katsuki Bakugou was a brat. And you loved it.

You’d never had to chase him — you just existed, sharp-edged and self-possessed — and that was enough. He hated how much he noticed you. Hated how your voice, calm and precise, cut deeper than shouting ever could.

He called you arrogant. You called him predictable. And he kept coming back.

It started small. A “sit” that he refused, until he didn’t. A “good boy” that made his jaw clench hard enough to crack. You didn’t need to overpower him — you just needed to wait. Because Bakugou respected strength, and your control wasn’t just strength — it was terrifying.

The first time you put him on his knees, he’d cursed under his breath the entire time. The second time, he bit back a moan. The third, he whispered, “Yours,” without thinking.

But he was still Katsuki. Still explosive. Still full of pride.

So when he saw you talking to Todoroki — head tilted, smirking, hand lightly brushing the man’s arm — something snapped.

You felt it before you even turned around: that raw, molten energy rolling off him. Arms crossed. Eyes cold. That look. The one that said he was two seconds from saying something stupid.

You smiled.

“Jealousy?” you asked later, cornering him against the door in your room.

“Fuck off.”

You tsked, fingers grazing his jaw. “You’re cute when you pout.”

“I’m not fuckin’—”

You kissed him hard. His body jolted, then melted under your grip.

“Strip.”

His eyes burned into yours.

“I’m not your fucking toy,” he growled — and it was exactly what you’d been waiting for.

You pushed him hard toward the bed. He staggered, caught himself, and turned with a snarl.

“You act like you don’t need this,” you said, stalking toward him, “but your cock’s already hard, Katsuki.”

He flinched. Just barely. But you saw it. And he hated that you did.

“Hands behind your back.”

He hesitated.

“Now.”

He obeyed.

You tied his wrists with thick leather cuffs, looping them through the headboard, forcing him to sit up — arms stretched, body tensed, exposed. He looked obscene like that. Wild eyes. Sharp breath. Muscles coiled like springs. You straddled his hips slowly, not giving him friction — just pressure, enough to drive him crazy.

“I saw the way you looked at Todoroki,” he muttered, bitter. “You were flirting.”

“I was being polite.”

“You touched his arm.”

“I touched your cock five minutes ago. Want to compare?”

He growled.

You laughed quietly, tracing your nails down his chest. “You don’t get to act possessive when you belong to me, Katsuki.”

His jaw clenched.

“Say it,” you ordered.

“…I belong to you.”

“Louder.”

“I belong to you, mistress.”

You smiled. “Good boy.”

And then you ruined him.

Your hand wrapped around his cock — tight, merciless, fast. He choked on a moan and bucked his hips, only for the restraints to pull him back. You slapped the inside of his thigh, just to hear him gasp.

“You’re such a loud little bitch when I’m not even giving you what you want,” you hissed. “Look at you. Dripping for me like some desperate, needy whore.”

“M-Mistress—please—”

“Oh? Now you beg?”

You leaned in close. “You looked me in the eye and told me you weren’t my toy. But look at you — tied up, blushing, fucking leaking all over yourself.”

He groaned, humiliated, wrecked. His body twitched with every stroke, every word.

“Did you think being jealous would earn you kindness?” you laughed, tightening your grip. “No, baby. Brats get punished.”

You edged him again. And again. And again. Until he was sobbing your name through clenched teeth, muscles trembling under your hands.

“Don’t you dare come.”

He whimpered.

“Hold it.”

“I—can’t—”

“You will. You’ll hold it like a good little slut, and when I say ‘now,’ you’ll fucking thank me for it.”

His whole body arched.

“Now.”

He shattered. Loud. Violent. Hands pulling at the restraints like they might snap. Cum painting his stomach in thick, shaking pulses. You watched with pride, lips curled into a slow smile.

And then you let him fall.

You unlocked his cuffs and caught him before he collapsed fully, guiding him to lie back against the pillows. He was flushed, silent, trembling — used, adored.

You wiped him down gently, kissed his cheek. Ran your fingers through his hair while his breathing slowed.

“You okay?” you murmured.

He nodded into your neck.

“…You didn’t even kiss me before you started,” he muttered, voice thick.

You kissed his temple softly.

“Because you didn’t deserve it,” you said. “But you do now.”

He smiled — lazy and fucked-out — and wrapped an arm around your waist.

“I’m still your brat,” he said sleepily.

“And you’ll keep earning your place on your knees.”

His last breath before sleep sounded suspiciously like a moan.

[serelume]

Say it again {Bakugo x Reader}

MHA: Bakugo x Reader ・❥・He can take an explosion to the face without blinking but one compliment from you, and he’s ready to self-destruct.

You said it casually.

Didn’t even think much of it. Just a passing comment as you stood beside him in the kitchen, watching him stir something in the pan with that intense, focused frown he always wore like armor.

“You’re really good at that.”

He paused.

“...Huh?”

You leaned on the counter, chin in your palm. “Cooking. You’re good at it.”

The room went still for a beat too long.

Then:

“Shut the hell up.”

You blinked. “What?”

He didn’t look at you. In fact, he looked anywhere but you – at the pan, at the window, at the far wall like it had just grown a pair of wings.

“You heard me,” he grumbled. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“Like what? That you’re good at something?”

His ears were already red. The flush was crawling up his neck now, blooming like a threat he didn’t know how to contain.

“You don’t gotta say it,” he muttered, flipping the food a little more violently than necessary. “I already know.”

“Uh-huh.”

You smiled, leaning a little closer. “Well, it’s hot.”

The spatula clattered onto the stovetop.

“What the fuck–”

You were laughing now. He spun to glare at you, but his eyes darted away immediately like he couldn’t hold your gaze for more than two seconds without combusting.

“I meant it,” you said, voice gentler now. “You’re hot when you’re focused.”

“I swear, if you say one more dumbass thing–”

“What?” You grinned. “You’ll kiss me?”

He stared. Red-faced. Flustered. Lips twitching between a scowl and something dangerously close to a smile.

“...I’ll burn the fuckin’ omelet.”

…………………

𐙚 MASTERLIST 𐙚

[fxrmuladaydreams]

use me (mv33)

max x reader

summary: max needs a way to take his frustrations out, you offer yourself to him

notes: !! contains smut minors dni !! i have other stories in the works but as a max girlie this took precedent, it had to be done after watching the singapore quali

You were on the edge of your seat watching the remaining 15 cars zoom around the track. Both the Red Bulls had been having issues during the weekend, not driving as fast as they had been in previous races.

You watched as your boyfriend, the reining world champion, made his final lap in Q2, scoring fairly low, and just falling further down the list as other drivers crossed the line. Liam Lawson of all people was the one to push Max down to 11th. You had to admit the kid was talented, but you knew Max was going to be very unhappy with the results.

You knew you were right when you saw Max get out of his car before they had even pulled it into his garage. He stormed away, pulling his helmet off his head as someone practically had to chase after him.

“He’s going to be pleasant.” A voice pulled your attention away from the scene in front of you.

Christian stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his headset now resting around his neck.

“He’ll be fine.” You tell him, however you know just how explosive Max can get when he doesn’t do well.

“You should go see him, calm him down. He won’t kill you.”

You snort. “Right.”

“Think you can calm him down in the next 30 minutes?” He asks.

“I can try.” You stand up to start heading in the direction Max walked off in.

You find him sitting in a corner, drinking from his water bottle, his eyes trained on the ground ahead of him.

You stand next to him and run a hand through his hair. While he would usually lean into you, craving more of your touch, he doesn’t react now, unmoving from his current position.

“How are you?” You ask, in an attempt to tread safely.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “I’m great, how are you?” He doesn’t hide the sarcasm in his tone.

You tilt his chin up so that he’s looking you in the eyes. You can practically see the anger swimming around in the blue eyes you fell in love with.

“You know the press are going to eat you alive if you walk in with that attitude.” You tell him.

He rolls his eyes, and looks back down ahead of him. “They’ll be cheering, dancing on my grave.”

You glance down at your watch. 25 minutes until Max will be needed for press. 25 minutes to bring back your happy Max.

“C’mon.” You take his hand, and slowly pull him up.

“Where are we going?” He asks, following you.

You lead him back to Red Bull hospitality, taking him up to his driver’s room. It’s small, a massage table sits in the corner, a shelf against the wall with more race suits and fireproofs.

“You need to get your anger out before you go do press.” You tell him as you lock the door.

“What, do you want me to throw things around the room?” He asks with his hands on his hips.

“I want you to fuck me.” You tell him, your voice completely serious.

He looks shocked for a moment. The two of you were always pretty private in your relationship, never showing too much PDA, and never having sex anywhere outside of your home. His shock soon dissipates, and turns into thoughtfulness, as if he’s thinking about the risk versus the reward.

You walk towards him in the center of the room. Your hands lift to his shoulders, softly massaging them before your arms wrap around his neck. You lean your head towards his, softly nudging your nose against his. He already looks like he’s losing his self control, his eyes watch your lips as you whisper to him.

“Use me, Max.”

He dives down to kiss you, his lips firm against yours. There’s no asking for permission for his tongue to enter your mouth, it pushes past your lips and tangles with yours.

You grip onto his hair as he hoists you up on the massage table. He stands between your legs, trailing his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of teeth marks on any skin he can find.

He tugs your shirt and bra off, flinging them to some corner of the room, desperate to have access to more of you. He travels down your chest, his lips wrapping around one of your nipples, teeth softly biting at it while his fingers find the other, pinching at it. After he’s satisfied he switches to the other, continuing his work.

Your pants and underwear are the next to come off as Max trails his fingers along your center. He smirks when he feels your hips move to meet his hand.

He pulls a whimper from you when his thumb brushes against your clit. He kneels down, pulling you to the edge of the table and lifting your legs over his shoulders. His hands press down on your abdomen to keep you still as his tongue laps over you.

His nose brushes against your clit, send a jolt to your hips. His hands press down harder on you as his eyes look up to meet yours. They’re a stormy blue now, his pupils enlarged and eyelids hooded.

“Stay still.” He says, his voice low and rough.

His tongue is quick to continue prodding against you, slowly pushing inside you as you let you a long moan. One of your hands flies to his hair, tangling itself in his light brown locks, as your other keeps yourself propped up.

Your taste is sweet, one of his favorite flavors really.

“You taste so good mijn liefje.” He softly moans against you as he eats you out, his nose now bumping your clit over and over until you cry out his name, cumming on his tongue.

This only encourages him, as he takes everything you give him. Your body is tired, exhausted from keeping yourself upright, ready to collapse on the table.

Max stands up and it’s only then you realize that he’s still in his clothes, his race suit still hanging off his hips, while you’re completely bare in front of him.

“I’m not finished with you yet schat.” He shakes his head as he pulls you upright to kiss you.

You can taste yourself on him, but it doesn’t matter to you, not when he’s kissing you the way he is. It’s all tongue and teeth and it’s messy, but still so good.

He pulls you off the table, your legs slightly wobbling beneath you. You’re surprised when he turns you around, keeping your body trapped between his and the table. You hear his clothes move around some more, the thick fabric of his race suit rustling around, then you feel him softly kick your ankle with his leg.

You spread your legs for him, wide enough to allow him room, but still close enough that you can stand comfortably.

He reaches a hand around you to feel between your legs.

“Think you’re wet enough to take me?” He asks. Max has always been a caring lover, even in his dominant moods he still checks in with you.

“Yes Max, please fuck me.” You lean forward against the table and push your ass back against him. You can feel his cock press against you as he grabs onto your hips.

He fists himself a few times before lining himself up with you then pushing in.

The stretch is a lot but feels so good. Max stills for a moment, leaning down to press a kiss against the flushed skin on your back.

His sweet demeanor quickly turns back to his dominant one though, slowly pulling out, then giving a harsh thrust back into you. You try to grip onto the table for dear life as Max pounds into you from behind.

Your moans aren’t quiet, yet neither are his grunts. The door being the only thing blocking you from the rest of the Red Bull team is the farthest thing in your minds at the moment.

He wraps an arm around your middle pulling you up so that your back is pressed against his chest. He’s still wearing his fireproofs, only having pulled the pants down far enough so that he’d be able to bury himself inside you.

The new angle causes him to sink even deeper in you. You feel so full, so consumed by Max.

He grins when he feels you clench around him. His right hand travels over your body, squeezing your breasts before stopping over your neck. He wraps his hand around it, putting a slight pressure on it as his other drops back down to where the two of you meet. He finds your clit, and rubs quick harsh circles into it.

He lets out a low laugh as you clamp down even tighter around him. He leans his head down, his lips brushing against your ear as he teases you. “You like that? Does that feel good?”

Your mind is so clouded over that you can only moan in response.

“Oh, you can’t use your words? You’re just dumb for my cock huh? It’s a good thing you’re so pretty.” He bites down on your neck, sucking a dark hickey onto it. “Are you going to be a good girl and cum for me again?”

You nod your head, feeling something tighten in your core for the second time tonight.

It only takes a few more rough thrusts before he’s got you cumming again, his name falling out of your mouth like a prayer.

The hand on your clit moves to your hip so that he can control his movements. His release follows as his thrusts become sloppy and erratic. You feel his warm cum fill you up as he holds himself inside you. He keeps himself there as you both come down from your highs. He softly presses kisses to your back as you catch your breath.

You hiss when he slowly pulls himself out. His hand falls away from your neck as he uses both to make sure you don’t collapse to the floor. He turns you back around and lifts you back up onto the table.

He finds a towel and spreads your legs to help clean you up. The sight in front of him causes his cock to stir with interest again, his cum is seeping out of you, trailing down your thighs. Your skin shines with the layer of sweat that’s coated your body. Your chest rises and falls with every deep breath you take. Your neck has several marks along it, fresh hickeys to show what you’ve been up to.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He asks, throwing the towel away to a corner of the room.

You give him a lazy smile. “Not at all. I really enjoyed that.”

“I love you.” He says, helping you back down from the table.

“I love you too.”

You’re both quiet at you get dressed again. You still feel a little wobbly on your feet, but are beginning to regain your balance.

“So do you think you can handle the press without chewing anyone’s head off?” You ask him as you both head to the door.

“Oh definitely.” He grins.

He wraps an arm around your waist as you leave his driver’s room and head back to the main area of the paddock.

Max gives you a quick kiss before he separates from you to do his post qualifying interviews, leaving you with the rest of the team.

When Christian spots you he sighs. “Y/n… no…” he says as he looks at the marks along your neck and the way your legs shake if you stand in one spot for too long.

You shrug. “What? You told me to calm him down.”

Needless to say everyone was surprised when Max was calm cool and collected during his interviews.

[22ayla21]

Greetings, may I request a Leona x reader, where it's the reader's birthday, and as a part of the special birthday, Leona insists he can handle breakfast on his own while reader sleep in. But it absolutely turns to disaster. Their child demands pancakes shaped like flowers, the stove almost explodes, and somehow there’s flour in Leona’s mane. So, by the time, reader wakes up, she sees that there's a slightly burnt but very proud plate of food waiting, along with a glass of orange juice. She then looks to her child, sitting on Leona’s shoulders, grinning widely. She chuckles, and even though he scowls, his tail gives him away? I just love Leona, he's my Husband, out of all the Housewardens. Also, this request may be a self-indulgent thing for me, cause my birthday is coming up.

A Royal Breakfast

On his wife’s birthday, Leona decides to make her breakfast himself, but by the time she wakes up, the kitchen has turned into a battlefield.

From Author: Happy birthday to you in advance 🥳

Silence reigned in the bedroom, broken only by the steady breathing of his sleeping wife. Leona carefully got out of bed, trying not to wake her. He glanced at her peaceful face, smiling faintly—that rare, soft, almost shy smile he allowed himself only for her—and, stretching, he habitually yawned, immediately pressing his hand to his mouth. Today was her birthday, and Leon had planned something special in advance. He wasn’t fond of pomp, but for her… For her, he was ready for anything, even to become a kitchen hero, though he knew far less about cooking than about combat spells.

He tiptoed down the corridor, skillfully avoiding creaky floorboards, and entered the kitchen. But there, a much more dangerous person awaited him—their six-year-old daughter with a mop of curls and bright eyes, exactly like his, sitting on a stool and gnawing on an apple.

"Daddyyy," she whined, noticing him. "You didn't forget what kind of pancakes we wanted, did you? Flowers! Like in that picture!"

Her twin brother followed suit, disheveled, with sticking-out ears, his T-shirt inside out, and a plush lion in one hand.

"I want the pancakes with chocolate! And strawberries! And Mommy's face!" he exclaimed, clearly not realizing what culinary chaos he had just proposed.

Leona rolled his eyes but said nothing. His tail twitched nervously. He was sure he could handle it. It was just… breakfast.

He surveyed the kitchen. Frying pan? Check. Flour? Hmm… looks like flour. Or sugar? Alright, he'd figure it out as he went. Eggs? For some reason, they were in the refrigerator door in a chicken-shaped container—he always found it strange, but today he decided that fate demanded sacrifices.

"Alright, little beasts, stand back," he mumbled, rolling up his sleeves and quickly tying his hair into a low ponytail, though a couple of strands still fell into his eyes. "Now Dad will show you how lions do it."

The children, of course, didn't leave. Instead, they settled on the countertop, swinging their legs and making sounds of approval or horror with every step he took. While Leona tried to pour milk without spilling it (which he failed to do), his daughter was already explaining how "Mommy makes flowers from dough." Something about "first a circle, then petals." Having no idea how to do this, Leona simply poured the batter onto the pan in a shape he considered "floral." And… well, it really did resemble a flower. A flower that had clearly survived an explosive encounter.

"It didn't fry; it just acquired a new form of existence," he muttered to himself, seriously flipping the pancakes.

The pan hissed and grumbled, as if offended to be used again. At some point, he flipped too forcefully, and part of the batter stuck to the ceiling. Flour somehow ended up in the air, and then—in his hair, on his nose, and even on his lion ears. His son clapped his hands in delight, and his daughter quietly exhaled:

"He looks like a cake."

Leona grumbled something irritated but didn't give up. He arranged the "best" pancakes—the ones that hadn't burned to cinders—on a plate, generously drizzled them with syrup, added fresh berries, and garnished them with whipped cream. Then he poured orange juice into a tall glass (twice, because he spilled it the first time).

When everything was ready, he exhaled, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, and surveyed the battlefield, formerly known as the kitchen. The pancakes stood on a tray, the juice glowed in the glass, and the children were already jostling, fighting for the right to carry Mommy's gift. His daughter, with a joyful squeal, clambered onto his shoulders, leaning down, while his son clung to his pant leg, trying to walk beside him.

She woke up to stomping and… sneezing? Getting up, she saw the bedroom door slowly open, revealing a sight she would probably remember forever.

Leona stood at the threshold—covered in flour, with disheveled hair, a skeptical expression, but a proud fire in his eyes. On his shoulders, like a tiny king, sat their daughter, waving her hand and exclaiming:

"Mommy! We made breakfast! Daddy almost didn't burn down the kitchen!"

"Actually, not almost," Leona grumbled sullenly, "just slightly… melted the spatula."

His son proudly held out a tray, where a mountain of uneven, browned (sometimes a bit more than necessary) pancakes with berries and syrup rose on a plate. Next to it, a glass of juice gleamed, with a crookedly attached paper with childish scribbles: "To Beloved Mommy!"

She covered her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing, but her eyes filled with tears of tenderness. Giggling, she looked at her husband, who was trying his best to look as if nothing special had happened, but his tail twitched impatiently from side to side, betraying his excitement.

"You…" she began, trying to find the word.

"A genius?" Leona prompted, smirking and stepping closer.

"A madman," she said, laughing, and reached out to wipe the flour from his cheek. "But you're my madman. And the best husband and dad in the world."

He merely snorted, but when she kissed him, his tail suddenly wrapped around her leg, as if on its own, as if fearing she might disappear. The children immediately gave a small round of applause, and their daughter loudly declared:

"And now, Daddy, you'll make breakfast every day, okay?"

Leona immediately raised an eyebrow:

"We agreed this was a special day. Once a year."

"We'll think about it," his wife chuckled, taking the tray and sitting on the edge of the bed.

And at that moment, amidst the aroma of slightly burnt pancakes, the giggling of the children, and her husband's tickling hair, she felt that it was mornings like these that truly made life happy.

[moonflowergirlsworld]

Can we get some Yandere Zani (wuwa) dabble?

Zani, in all her yandere glory—time to study her character and break it down

(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Yandere Drabble

Zani

Zani’s obsession with you would be like a slow burn, a steady flame that never wavers, always flickering in the background of her composed exterior, waiting for the right moment to consume everything.

Zani starts off distant, not cold, but reserved, overly formal because of the job. She’s professional to a fault, But the moment you tell her to drop the act? That she doesn’t need to keep pretending?

You unlock the gates to her inner world.

Her nonchalant demeanor, laced with curiosity, adds to it.

The best part, Zani's obsession starts with curiosity. She's The one who lets her obsession simmer under the surface until one day—boom—the obsession spills over with terrifying clarity.

She’s neither the type to obsess loudly nor the type to go full theatrical meltdown if someone flirts with you but You’ve noticed the way her tail twitches whenever that happens.

“I’ll walk you home.”

There’s a flicker of something deeper in her red eyes, as she adjusts her tie. A glint of obsession tempered by years of restraint, by a job that demands masks, balance and containment.

Zani is so good at handling people that her yandere side wouldn’t even look like a problem on the surface.

You’ll find her helping “just because she was in the area.” She’s already memorized your habits—how much sleep you get, when do you eat, how much do you eat, are you taking care of yourself, what are your hobbies—every single detail like it's her job to do so.

Zani’s love is not explosive. It’s steady, heavy and inescapable. The kind of love that buries itself into your day-to-day life until you don’t even realize you’ve been isolated, doted on, and protected into complete dependence.

Her obsession is dressed in sarcasm, care and carried on the shoulders of a woman who knows exactly what she wants.

Zani is known for her authenticity and adherence to her principles. She's not one to hide behind masks or play deceptive games. This unwavering commitment to her true self would shape her yandere tendencies in a unique way.

She'd openly express her feelings, making it clear that you are the center of her world. Her declarations wouldn't be flowery or exaggerated; they'd be sincere and direct.

"I don't need to pretend or play games. I love you, and I won't let anyone come between us."

She doesn't want to own your freedom.

She wants you to hand it over willingly.

She won’t say “you belong to me.” That’s too crude for her style. Instead, she makes you feel like she belongs to you.

She sacrifices sleep for you. Skips meals for you. Works overtime just to make sure you’re comfortable. And then—when you even think about pulling away—there’s this aching guilt, because look at her. So tired, so loyal, so devoted.

How dare you even think of leaving someone like her, someone who devotes so much of herself to you.

You wouldn’t dare leave, would you?

She doesn’t trap you with chains. She traps you with care.

That’s how you fall for her, darlin'.

Not with fireworks but With quiet, relentless consistency.

“I don’t like sharing. In case that wasn’t painfully obvious.”

Sometimes, you'd notice her tail coiling around your thigh or waist. If you asked her about it, she'd just say, "Huh... that again?" And if you tried to move away—"Don’t move. I like how it feels."

Zani doesn’t believe in gods, but she'd kneel for you.

Deliciously ironic, Isn't it?

She doesn’t use the Order’s terminology, doesn’t believe in divine protection. But she becomes your devotee in the most human way possible. Worship through acts of service. Love through protection. Faith not in heaven, but in you.

"I don't believe in gods, but if you told me to kneel... I wouldn’t hesitate.”

You are her altar.

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

Jason deserves to be someone's no. 1 superhero.

(Art by Victioria Palomino)

Red Hood was many things for many people. A criminal, a nuisance, and a threat. Most treated him with disdain, and few tolerated him. But no one claimed to be a fan of him. Not in a sense Superman or Wonder Woman have fans.

You kept your opinion on the man strictly neutral, hoping you'll never find yourself in the same room as him, not out of hatred, but simply a sense of self-preservation.

Until one day, you find yourself unwillingly in the crossfire of Gotham's latest criminal and it's the day you meet your unlikely savior. He's no less imposing or terrifying even as he sets you on the pavement in one of the alleyways.

"I'm not going to bite off your head if that makes you so jumpy."

"Ah! I...uh...sorry. It's just that you're..."

"'S fine, I'm used to that."

At that moment you felt really scummy. There he was risking his life for you and you were acting like has rabies. As you watched him run towards the explosions you promised yourself that you'll thank him properly next time you see him.

That opportunity comes fairly soon. Every day in Gotham is a new threat, this time in the form of sentient crawling vines with razor-sharp thorns. One of them nicks your cheek and others would probably do much worse, but a few well-aimed bullets make them fall limply on the pavement. It's your red-hooded savior and he's sporting several deep gashes as well as a cracked mask.

He barks at you to run so you do, but you linger in the safe distance, hoping to catch one more glimpse of him. When all is said and done, you see a flash of his red hood ducking behind a garbage container. You carefully sidestep the fallen debris and find him sitting on the ground leaning against the wall, clutching his shoulder.

You realize it's not the best time to talk to him, that gets affirmed by the glare he shoots you from underneath the torn hood. The fear makes your heart thump and your tongue gets stuck to the roof of your mouth. Still, you step closer, slowly, ready to back away at any second, as if you're approaching a wild animal backed into a corner, and you might as well.

"Go away." He growls, teeth flashing from the crack in his mask and you visibly shiver. Despite your fear, you crouch right next to him and pull out a couple of bandaids you always have in your mind. With trembling hands, you start to bandage up the feared vigilante. You keep his face for last, just to ignore the intense unflinching stare that's burning into you the whole time.

"The hell are you doing?" He asks, without any bite this time.

You swallow the knot in your throat.

"I...I never got a chance to...thank you." You say, voice getting smaller and smaller with each word.

"Thank me?" He says incredulously.

You meet his gaze for the first time.

"Yes, for saving me."

He lets you finish your work without another word. When you mention the shoulder. He gets up and slams it against the wall, popping the bone back in the socket as you watch in horror. He doesn't even whimper. He thanks you for the bandages and in a moment he's gone again.

Later that night, Jason Todd is lying in bed in his safe base. Staring at the colorful bandaids covering his arm.

Meanwhile, you start to unconsciously pay more attention to this masked vigilante. Whenever you see him in a newspaper, you clip out the part, when you hear his name on TV you pull the volume up. You search his name on the internet, getting what's undoubtedly some really cool shots of him on his motorcycle. Yeah, he's really a badass, the killings and questionable morals notwithstanding.

You're getting more intrigued by the day. Who is he? What made him pick up the guns and the red half-face mask? What's his relation to Batman if he's wearing a version of his symbol on his chest? Does he admire him, or hate him? Is he aware of his reputation? Is he deluded into thinking everything he's doing is ultimately good, or is he brutally self-aware and just doesn't care? His morals are what intrigued you the most. You often wonder if violence is maybe sometimes the answer, considering how many times you and your close ones got hurt or traumatized by Gotham's villains.

You start to wear a black T-shirt with a red bat-like symbol on it. You don't flaunt it, but there is undeniable giddiness when you hold it in your hands, fresh out of transfer press. You had to make it yourself because there's no official Red Hood merch, shame really. Soon a mug and a bracelet follow.

Next time you meet Red Hood, you're the one who saves him. His bike is damaged, and he's running away from cops when you grab him by the hand and pull him to the place you work at. Thankfully, no one of your coworkers is there that day so you don't have to explain to them why there's a masked man armed to teeth in the breakroom. You offer him some tea and biscuits before the coast is clear and he can leave again.

Before he leaves, Red Hood compliments your t-shirt. You look down and realize it's the one you made. You have to duck behind the front desk to hide an explosion of blush on your face, listening to his quiet chuckles. For the rest of the day Red Hood is smiling.

You heard that he is in the neighborhood. You ponder it for a long time before you book it out of the door. When you find him, you stutteringly ask for an autograph. Red Hood stares at you as if you'd gone crazy. He takes the white sharpie and scribbles his name on your back. You take the pen from his limp hand and thank him with a beaming smile. It's then Jason realizes he has a real-life fan.

The next time he sees you, he asks only half-joking if you want to take a photo with him. Your eyes widen at that.

"Y-you're sure?? I don't want to bother..."

"Just look here."

He says as he bends down to put his face next to his. You're too flustered by his proximity to react fast enough as his phone flashes in your eyes. By means unknown to you, the photo is in your phone several hours later. You look like a moron. Wide-eyed, red-faced, and gaping into the camera, but you keep it. It's a selfie with your favorite Gotham knight, after all.

When he saves you this time, he escorts you all the way to the rooftop of your apartment building. Red Hood asks how are you gonna repay him this time. Teasingly backing you up against the wall with one hand pressed to the wall behind you. You're once again reminded how big he is, but this time it does not make you fearful, it makes you flustered. You duck under his arm and tell him to wait. You hand him a plastic container, and he raises a brow at you. You explain to him it's your homemade enchiladas. What you didn't know at the time is that you'll have a hungry vigilante waiting on the rooftop for his next lunch like a stray cat.

With time, the scary vigilante became what you dared to call a friend of yours. You eat together, you talk, sometimes you patch him up and in return, he gives extra care to make your neighborhood safe. You learn a lot about him in several months and yet, you've never seen his face.

It's the end of the year, and you haven't heard from Red Hood for some time. He must be busy. It's not like he owes you anything. He probably has a life outside of vigilante work. Still, you do miss him. You don't hear from him until that fateful fight with Barman. You barely hear the news reporter over the blood rushing in your ears as you watch Red Hood get slammed into through the window of a run-down factory. Without thinking it through, you rush to the location the news reporter mentioned.

You never saw Red Hood so...defeated. He was always so big in your eyes, bigger than life. And now he is slowly bleeding from the neck while shards of glass are littered around him, with Gotham's so-called hero standing over him. You shout you're not exactly sure what, but it makes the Dark Knight freeze. You don't even spare him a glance as you kneel over your hero. His mask is even more cracked than the first time you met him. You can see the black eye and the split lip, but it's the resignation in the healthy eye that makes you unreasonably angry.

"DON'T TOUCH HIM!!!"

You shock yourself with the force of that angry roar. Batman takes a step back, arms held up in defeat. Eyes confused, searching but mostly...sad, that surprises you the most. You don't have time to dwell on it as you feel Red behind you trying to get up. Deciding you'll ignore the Bat indefinitely, you support the Hood with your weight. The rest is a blur, police escort you out of the scene, giving you a lecture about civilian safety you barely listen to.

He let him escape. Batman let Red Hood escape the scene. You heard him giving an explanation to the police, lying from under his black mask. You were more perplexed than ever by their relationship.

For the next few days, you barely sleep. Worried sick about Red Hood. He might as well be dead and you wouldn't even know. That thought brings tears to your eyes.

One snowy afternoon, you walk up the stairs from your apartment to the rooftop. You haven't been there for a long time, avoiding that place. Just so you don't have to wait for him, only for him to never come again. When you open the door, you almost pass out. He's there, on your rooftop, flesh and blood. His huge back is facing you, red hood back on.

"Red?" the inaudible croak of his name is carried away by the harsh wind, and yet, he turns around. Only this time he's not wearing a mask. There's a white streak in his hair, a jagged scar runs from his lip all the way to his hairline, and his eyes, unflinching, are fixed on you.

You have never seen such vibrant green.

[alive-gh0st]

˗ˏˋ❝Afterglow❞ˎˊ˗

Mark Grayson x Med!Reader♡ྀི

….ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨.ـ... ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

⛨ summary: you were in a surprisingly good mood, which should’ve been the first red flag. your coworkers weren’t being annoying, the coffee machine was actually working, and not a single patient had tried to self-diagnose off WebMD yet. the universe clearly saw that and went “hmm, too peaceful.” because hours later, the clinic was rubble, a child was almost lost, and you met invincible for the first time. and of course—you yelled at him.

⛨ contains: sfw. local clinic setting. first meeting with invincible. medical professional!reader. civilian chaos. reader being a bad bitch. immediate tension and banter. subtle foreshadowing of their future dynamic. fire/explosion sequence. hands-on first aid moments. mark being surprised-reader-ain’t-scared. small emotional undercurrent under sarcasm.

⛨ warnings: brief injury description (scrapes, blood). explosion/fire trauma. smoke inhalation. nurse carla. mild trauma response (panic, adrenaline). implied danger to a child (rescued safely). some profanity.

⛨ wc: 1093

prologue, part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌a/n: reader has a license, a savior complex, and zero chill. mark shows up for five minutes and gets emotionally wrecked. enjoy the chaos.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

It’s a quiet Tuesday. The kind of quiet that should’ve tipped you off. The kind of quiet that doesn’t last.

Your shift starts at 8:00 AM sharp, and somehow, you’re early. The sun’s out, the sky’s obnoxiously blue, and someone brought donuts to the clinic—for no reason.

You even got your favorite one—the last one—which felt like a small miracle… until you realized the coffee was good.

Not just drinkable. Good. Fresh. Hot. Non-bitter. Suspicious.

You’d joked with Nurse Carla that the universe was trying to butter you up.

“You just wait,” she said, stirring her tea like some all-knowing, scrub-wearing oracle. “It’s always the good days that get you.”

You’d laughed.

Now you’re pretty sure she hexed you.

The clinic hums with calm, the low rhythm of patients being called back and phones ringing occasionally at the front desk. In room three, you patch up a skateboard accident. Room five brings in an elderly man who insists his blood pressure is fine—even as the cuff nearly bursts. You remain patient, calm, even friendly—somehow.

You’re not usually this chipper.

Maybe it’s the sunlight. Maybe it’s the donut.

Either way, you don’t realize you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop—

Until it does.

Loud. Violent. Apocalyptic.

The explosion shakes the floor beneath your feet.

It’s not real at first. Just a sound—an echoing blast that shatters windows and hurls you out of your good mood like a ragdoll. You slam your coffee on the counter (RIP—it was actually decent) and bolt toward the door before anyone can stop you.

Smoke is already curling above the skyline. Across the street, a building is on fire—its middle floors cracked open like a broken jaw. Glass rains down. People scream.

You don’t hesitate. You just move.

“Call 911!” you shout over your shoulder as your feet hit the pavement. Your heart kicks into overdrive. The calm is gone.

The illusion shattered.

“Evacuate the lobby!”

You don’t wait for acknowledgment. Your feet are already pounding pavement, shoes slipping slightly on the sidewalk as your mind flips into crisis mode.

You’re already halfway in before your brain catches up.

A woman collapses near the curb—shock. You steady her, get her seated, check her breathing. Alive.

You keep moving.

A teen stumbles out of the smoke, blood on his jeans. You direct him to sit, tear open your kit.

Tourniquet. Gauze. Stabilize. Move.

You don’t even notice when your stethoscope vanishes off your shoulders—just that your hands are moving and your brain’s already triaging in real time.

And then you see her.

A little girl—no older than nine—trapped beneath a chunk of concrete by the crosswalk. Her arm’s twisted at a bad angle. Blood smears her cheek. She’s trying to cry but doesn’t have the energy for more than a breathy whimper.

Before your brain can even catch up, your legs are already sprinting.

Someone grabs your arm—an older man with watery eyes and a voice wobbling from terror. “Don’t!” he begs. “That’s suicide! You’ll die trying to—”

“Move,” you snap, not bothering to look back. “Or piss yourself somewhere else.”

You don’t wait for a reply.

Your knees hit pavement. You’re beside the girl before the guy can finish a follow-up plea, hands already assessing her pulse, breath, injuries. You try to lift the debris. Nothing. It doesn’t budge. Your arms shake, muscles strain, lungs burning from smoke.

You try again.

Still nothing.

Panic rises sharp in your throat. The little girl’s eyes flutter—too pale, too quiet.

“Stay with me,” you whisper. “Hey. Look at me, alright? You’re gonna be okay.”

You lie. But your voice is steady.

For a horrible moment, you actually think this is it. That you’re about to die here, buried with this kid—and no one will know why you didn’t wait for backup.

The wind shifts.

Fast. Sharp. A blur of motion and force that sends your hair whipping around your face.

And then the weight’s gone.

You jerk backward, pull the girl free, and curl around her automatically—heart hammering like a drumline. You blink through the smoke and ash.

That’s when you see him.

Invincible.

In the flesh. Blue and yellow suit smeared with ash and blood, goggles cracked at one side. Kneeling beside you like some kind of comic book punchline—if comic books ever showed their heroes looking that tired.

“She’s okay,” you breathe, adjusting the girl in your arms, “but you’re not.”

He blinks like you just insulted him in four languages. “I’m—”

“Don’t say fine.” You eye him critically. “You’re favoring your left. Blood. Concussion-level pupils. You probably shouldn’t be standing, let alone flying.”

“…Are you a doctor?”

“Closer to nurse practitioner. Also not blind.”

You stand, legs shaky but functional. He watches you like he’s never been spoken to like that in his life.

“You should go,” you add, motioning to the kid in your arms. “She needs a hospital. Fast.”

He hesitates.

You frown. “What?”

“…Nothing. Just—” He gestures vaguely at you. “You’re calm.”

You actually snort. “You mean I didn’t cry and fangirl? Tragic.”

“That’s not—”

“I’m not scared of you,” you say, quieter now. “If anything, you’re just another bleeding idiot who didn’t let someone check him out before playing hero.”

You’ve seen enough broken ribs and bad priorities to know most capes aren’t invincible where it counts.

His mouth opens. Closes. Still stunned.

You sigh and hand him the girl, a little softer now. ”Take her. That’s the only reason I’m not yelling more.”

He nods, carefully taking the child into his arms like she’s glass. Gives you one last look—

And he’s gone.

Wind howls. The air cracks.

And you’re left standing there, covered in soot and adrenaline, alone in the wreckage.

You don’t know he’ll remember your voice. The glare. The cracked joke.

But he will.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˖⁺‧₊˚❤️‍🔥˚₊‧⁺˖ ⋆ ˚｡⋆

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌Somewhere, sometime after…

Nurse Carla sits in her living room, lit by the flicker of a dusty lamp and the glow of a muted rerun. A cat—large, black, and terrifyingly still—curls in her lap like it’s plotting something.

His name is Lucifer. You know this because she whispers it like a prayer when chattering about him.

She sips her tea. Doesn’t flinch when thunder cracks outside, even though it hasn’t rained in weeks.

On the table beside her: a newspaper folded open to an article about the explosion. A blurry shot of Invincible in flight.

Carla hums. Calm. Unbothered. All-knowing.

She sets the teacup down with a soft clink, leans back in her chair, and strokes Lucifer’s head.

“I told her,” she murmurs, half to herself, half to the void. “Never trust a Tuesday.”

She smiles.

Lucifer purrs.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌a/n: nurse carla is two steps from world domination. the cat knows things. be aware.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

taglist sign up: 𓉘here𓉝

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ With Love, @alive-gh0st

[demothers-empty-blog]

something something about being on top of könig and having to stop yourself from bursting out in laughter because of how focused he looks with his big hands grabbing your hips and squishing your tummy

stop this madness - sfw - reader is chubby ehe

König fiddles, you quickly found out early on in your relationship and only recently has he started getting more comfortable with physical contact. It started off slow, granted, he came up with the grand idea of ‘pinky promises’ as an excuse just to touch you.

This progressed over time, eventually he began fiddling with your fingers, if you have rings on he’ll toy with them too and if you make the mistake of not paying attention, he will crack your knuckles.

König… doesn’t notice himself half the time he’s with you, being with you does him good. He doesn’t feel the need to rehearse what he’s about to say or think twice about what he’s about to do, with you, he can be himself. And apparently that self, once out of its shell, likes getting its paws all over you. He is all about that action and he doesn’t stop once the ball starts rolling.

You couldn’t pry him off even with all your strength put together. Use him as a weighted blanket, it’s the only solution. Yes, he does use your boobs as the best pillows in existence, arguing that he only does it to hear your heartbeat. It’s half the truth.

He looks so concentrated too and there truly was something about seeing this man, who has been through so much just melt in your arms, completely unguarded. It coaxes giggles from your chest and makes your heart all fluttery getting to witness this mountain of a man turn to putty in real time.

König loves, loves playing with your hair. It’s such an intimate moment for him, you get a free scalp massage so really, there’s no complaints. Thick, calloused digits pulling at the ends ever so slowly, you feel yourself slip into this feeling of euphoria knowing that he’s safe, he’s home and he’s busy with your hair. You feel every curl gently unfurl and bounce back with every small tug.

His favourite thing to do, at some point it annoyed you was when watching one of his adored war films, he’ll time pulling on one of your curls with the sound of an explosion and you’ll hear the smirk in his voice when he says ‘booom’. You know how many frags were thrown throughout the movie? At some point, you did swat his hand away.

But hands down, no pun intended, your favourite thing about this man is that he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He doesn’t. He can’t keep them down, his hands are always busy doing something and you take full advantage of it.

He caught on pretty quick, you’re not that slick. It’s like a sixth sense to him whenever you’re in the mood for cuddling.

He’s so far gone too, so far away from this world and so mesmerized on how the plushness of your body seeps through his fingers with every squeeze. You can barely contain yourself with how focused he seems.

“König?” That laugh in your voice which reminded him of chimes in the wind pulls him back to his senses and all he can really do is give you a sheepish smile before going right back at it. You throw your head back laughing, running a hand through his short hair underneath the hood as a wordless way of saying: ‘It’s okay, you can continue’.

König cannot go to sleep at night without interlacing his fingers over your belly, holding you so close, you can feel his breath fan over your head. He’ll palm at the fat of your thighs and cradle the pudge around your stomach, kneading the softness of your body you sometimes pinch. Murmurs of devotion reach your dreams, König will spend the night whispering sweet nothings to you if it meant having no more nightmares.

[scariusaquarius]

rehab. 15.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

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A/n: I'M SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG. Shit in my life hit a royal fan, so that took a lot of my immediate attention. So, we got into Tony's head, and now I think we should jump into the other groups now <3 Also, if you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee! If you would prefer to read Rehab on Archive, you may do so right HERE!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

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Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

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Author: ScariusAquarius

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rehab masterlist. chapter 14

Steve could still remember the way the HYDRA base had smelled the first time he had seen Bucky since he'd gone missing in action during World War II. The burning oil from the guns, the smoke and iron from explosions and blood staining the air like wine on white, and the smell of ozone just before it began to rain. It was all as though it was yesterday despite it being almost 80 years since then.

80 years since he last saw Peggy Carter.

Well, Steve guessed he could count the times he saw her after he woke up; her old and frail body reminding him of the time he had lost since he went under the ice...her casket heavy upon Steve's shoulder when he carried her to the hearse the day of her funeral.

But it didn't take away the feelings of regret and sorrow. Steve didn't regret putting the plane beneath the ice, but he did regret never getting that raincheck for their dance. Even so, Steve knew that Peggy would have wanted him to be happy; to keep fighting for what he believed in; to keep fighting for the little guys.

And so that's what Steve did. He kept fighting, kept saving, kept advocating, and yet it never felt like it was enough. Even when he saved Bucky, Steve still felt as though something was missing. There was never enough records, old antiques that weren't actually antiques to him, never enough clothes that felt right; it all just reminded him that he was living in a time that wasn't his own.

But unlike (Y/n) (L/n), he'd been allotted a lot of time to get used to the new world. Granted, Steve still couldn't stand the hustle and bustle and the noise of the New World, but Steve imagined that it was ten times harder for her. Hell, he still couldn't stand fireworks, and Bucky downright sobbed during the holidays because of them.

Steve sighed as he thumbed at the worn lensatic compass that still held that pretty picture of Peggy in it, and he couldn't help but to look at the picture, pursing his lips.

Yes, Steve understood what it meant to be out of place and because of that, it made him determined to help those that were like him and Bucky if and when he met them.

When he came across the female Winter Soldier with Bucky, Steve had felt shocked yet relieved for having found this woman, and though Bucky had been so reluctant to save her from staying frozen until the end of time, Steve couldn't help but feel determined to defrost her and save her, Peggy's words repeating in his head like a mantra.

"The world has changed, and none of us can go back. All we can do is our best, and sometimes, the best that we can do, is to start over."

Just like him and Bucky, this woman also deserved a chance to start over; to be free of what HYDRA had done to her, and though Steve didn't want to admit it, he couldn't help but to see Bucky again when he looked at this woman.

Though, even Steve knew that what they had done to her had been ten times worse given the horrific scars that had been covering her body. Steve hadn't watched any of the recorded clips that Shuri had obtained while working on the woman's programming, but given the way Shuri, Tony, and Bucky had been acting since being shown the clips, Steve didn't even want to watch them.

Even he knew that he might lose his cool for once.

It made it even worse when Steve discovered that Jack Rollins had been her Handler. Did Brock know, too? Did he also Handle this woman under the guise that it was 'nothing personal'?

"Still feels personal," Steve muttered to himself. Steve became aware of Sam leaning against the wall beside him, his arms crossed and looking ahead as they waited for Thor to arrive at their location to begin their investigation.

"You know, I think you really just like missing person cases. Have you thought of being a detective?"

Steve couldn't help but to chuckle as he glanced at Sam, stating with a small smile.

"I thought about it, but I don't think I'd be satisfied like I am now."

Sam barked out a laugh, shaking his head as he gestured to Steve's shield with a raised brow.

"Just can't seem to stay away, huh?"

"I know, it follows me everywhere, man."

The two men chuckled, and Sam stared at Steve for a moment, noticing the downtrodden look crawl back upon the old Captain's face, and he pointed out to Steve.

"You seem like you're back in the trenches."

Steve chuckled before shaking his head slightly, teasing gently.

"I never was actually in the trenches, so that might be a question for Bucky rather than me."

Sam shook his head a bit as well, making a face at Steve before stating.

"Well, I'm not about to go make a quick trip to ask. Seriously, man, what's on your mind?"

Steve pursed his lips tightly before he admitted to Sam, giving the man a worried look.

"I'm just...worried about the woman is all. With Bucky's rehabilitation, it hadn't been easy for him...and it still isn't, if I'm honest. I'm worried that he might have been right...if it would have been better for us to leave her frozen so she wouldn't be in danger like she is."

Sam glanced over at Steve, regarding him with a thoughtful look before he crossed his arms and replied thoughtfully.

"I think you're overthinking it, Steve. Even if you'd have left her there, she would have been in the same amount of danger as she is now."

Steve looked over at Sam, giving the man his undivided attention as Sam continued to speak his mind.

"Just like with Bucky, you strived to advocate for her; to give her a life and the ability to choose who she wants to be. If you ask me, that's a pretty big deal...especially considering who and what she is. You surrounded her with people that actually want to help her and not use her. I think that you and I both know that this is going to be a difficult road, but I also know it'll be worth it to see her blossom into herself and not what HYDRA wanted her to be. Just like with Bucky."

Sam clasped Steve's shoulder, giving him a firm look.

"You did the right thing, Steve...and if that doesn't make you think so...then I think at least Peggy would have been proud."

Steve couldn't help but to furrow his brows at the mention of Peggy, glancing down at the compass again, and he shook his head.

"No wonder you're a speaker at the VA. You're pretty good at this."

"You have to be. Sometimes you're the only thing a brother or a sister has left."

The two men couldn't help but to jolt as the Bifrost Bridge suddenly came crashing down beside them with a bang of thunder, Thor Odinson shaking his shoulders a little bit as a spark of lightning crawled over his chest as he appeared.

"I did not anticipate how difficult a phone could be. What's even the point of it when you could just tell me what I need to know in person. Even a raven would suffice. Less problems."

Sam couldn't help but to ask as he brushed off the invisible dust from his uniform as Steve gave Thor an understanding look.

"I don't reckon you get great service from Asgard, huh?"

"Terrible, actually, I couldn't even hear a word Tony Stark was saying...which isn't really tragic."

Steve nodded a bit before he asked Thor, the God of Thunder giving him a curious look.

"I don't suppose you were able to hear what was going on all the while?"

Thor then made a face as if trying to remember the interaction with Tony, saying.

"Well, I think I hung up when Tony said to meet you here, so not really."

Steve almost lost his composure, closing his eyes and shaking his head while Sam just snorted, crossing his arms.

"Right. We're going after a HYDRA operative by the name of Jack Rollins. We don't really know where he is, but the site that we're going to is a possible location. Even if he's not there, we're going to eradicate any possible activity. It's about time that HYDRA is stopped once and for all. Tony was able to capture an image of the base, so we should get moving."

The three of them began to journey to the HYDRA base, Thor asking as they walked and kept an eye out for danger.

"So, what is the significance of this human? Other than the fact that he is apart of this...horrible organization, it seems there is more to this than I am being informed of."

Steve gave Thor a look, almost like a brother chastising the other.

"Well, if you hadn't hung up on Tony, he would have been able to tell you."

Thor just waved off Steve, shrugging his shoulders a little bit as they began to approach the HYDRA base.

"His theatrics annoy me."

Steve wisely elected not to comment, instead giving Thor the rundown of the last couple of weeks.

"Bucky and I rescued a woman that was a part of the Winter Soldier program...probably created right after Bucky was. We've been trying to rehabilitate her and free her from HYDRA's mind control, but we've been having issues. Jack Rollins was her Handler, and he's been controlling her remotely...probably for a while."

Thor then hummed, saying with a raised brow as he swung Mjolnir around.

"It sounds as though this is personal."

"Potentially. What matters the most is that we eradicate HYDRA. If not for her or Bucky, then for the world. This is a dangerous group of people that are willing to do whatever it takes to gain complete control."

Thor sighed heavily, looking down at the hammer in his hands, scrunching his nose a little bit as he spoke while pointing Mjolnir at Steve.

"Well, even so, I understand the need to protect the honor of a maiden, so I shall accompany you to this HYDRA base and we shall cut off every head of the beast until the earth is pouring with its blood."

Sam and Steve stared at Thor for a moment before Sam asked him with a squint.

"Did you just come up with that on the spot or are you always this poetic?"

Thor shrugged, giving Sam a thoughtful expression as he replied.

"It comes and goes. My mother used to recite the Vǫluspá to Loki and I when we were younger."

 Sam just gave Steve a look, and the old Avenger just shrugged his shoulders before asking the two men.

"Are you guys ready? We're closing in."

Thor then asked as Steve and Sam began to carefully maneuver through the trees to stay out of sight while the God continued to walk as if there was no threat imminent.

"Do you think that I could meet this woman? I think it'll be fascinating. Are female Winter Soldier's different than males? Can she kick Barnes' ass like a Valkyrie?"

Steve pursed his lips, glancing back at Thor with a raised brow.

"Do you want to find out?"

"Well, I think a round or two would be healthy. You know, gauge her skills...see where she can improve."

Sam gave Steve a questioning look.

"Didn't she put a knife through the quinjet windshield? You know, the one made with synthesized AM-III carbon?"

"I don't know what that is."

Thor pointed out with a confused look on his face, and Steve just replied.

"It's strong as hell."

Thor just nodded before he gestured to the large building that they had approached.

"This is the supposed base?"

"Yes. We want to try to be as inconspicuous as possible just in case there is activity."

When Thor didn't respond, Steve and Sam both looked back with a confused look before the sound of thunder and lightning crashing down on the building made the two Avengers fill with dread.

"Is there anybody in the Avengers initiative that actually listens to you?"

Steve just sighed and replied.

"Let's just follow him."

The mission began then, the two men desperately chasing after the God as Thor flew through the building. What perturbed Steve, however, was the fact that there seemed to be no fighting. No yells, no gunshots, no explosions.

Silence.

The place was empty, barren of any furniture and equipment nor documents. It was as though it had been completely cleaned out. Thor came back with a frown, stating as he looked around with confusion.

"The rest of the area is completely barren. Nobody has been here for a while."

"Did you check the lower levels?"

Thor glanced back at the hole he had created on the floor, scratching the back of his head.

"I think so."

Sam shook his head, adjusting his goggles so that they were sitting on top of his head.

"That just doesn't make any sense. It's almost as if they know where we're looking and are cleaning everything out right under our noses."

Steve pursed his lips and looked at Thor.

"You're positive that there was nothing in the building?"

Thor frowned, crossing his arms.

"Why would I be dishonest to you?"

Sam pursed his lips again before he asked.

"What if they have someone on the inside already?"

Thor and Steve looked at Sam with similar expressions of dread. Sam shrugged and continued.

"We know that HYDRA is scary-good at infiltrations and establishing themselves in even the most secure places in the world. In a kingdom of thousands, a rat is bound to get through somehow, especially when the King is already preoccupied with trying to find a specific person. It's just like Nat said: it's easier to get things done when the attention isn't on you."

Thor pointed towards Steve, stating.

"We should get to Wakanda as soon as possible. If he is right, then that means the maiden and your friend are in danger of this foul beast. I can get us there almost immediately using the Bifrost Bridge so they are not devoured by the HYDRA."

Both Steve and Sam give Thor a questioning look.

"You...know it's not a real beast, right?"

Thor made a face at them both.

"Of course I knew that...I just thought it'd be poetic."

Thor looked away, but Sam could still see the embarrassed look on the god's face before he looked to Steve, who was shaking his head to get back on track.

"Listen, we can't just leave the quinjet behind. Stark will have my ass about it."

Steve protested, and Sam clasped his shoulder with a frown.

"You two go on ahead, I'll fly that bird home. Bucky and (Y/n) are in danger, Steve. The quicker you get there, the better off they'll be."

Steve nodded and Thor grabbed the captain's shoulder, nodding to Sam.

"Good luck."

With a strange sound of surging energy, the Bifrost suddenly crashed down upon Thor and Steve, leaving Sam where he was standing as he watched the bridge disappear, and Sam couldn't help but mutter to himself.

"One of these days....just you wait."

-

STORY NOTES: Steve recalls the HYDRA base that he had found Bucky in after Bucky went missing back in WWII. He recalls the smell of smoke, burnt gun oil, and other scents during that time, and Steve makes a note that he could still remember that day clearly. He begins to think about Peggy Carter and his regrets and sorrows of not getting to spend his life with her like he wanted to, and so to honor her, he continues to fight for those around him.

He begins to sympathize with (Y/n) (L/n) and how it must be jarring for her to be thrust into an era she is not from, and the struggles that came with adjusting to a new world. He recalls that when he had found her, Bucky had been reluctant to save her, but Steve was determined because of the memory of a quote that Peggy had said to him before she passed away.

After some more personal reflections, Steve is greeted by Sam Wilson, who jokes with Steve to lighten the mood. When he is unsuccessful, Sam asks Steve what is on his mind. Steve opens up to Sam about his worries and how he is wondering if Steve had done the right thing in defrosting the woman, and Sam is adamant that Steve had done the right thing. He tells Steve that he thinks Peggy would have been proud, and Steve begins to feel better.

The moment is interrupted with the arrival of Thor Odinson, who makes a complaint about the difficulty of cellular devices and how it would have been much easier for someone to send a raven to him. Sam makes a joke about the reception in Asgard, to which Thor quips that he couldn't hear what Tony was saying and it 'wasn't really tragic'. Steve asks Thor if he was able to hear the mission details, and Thor reveals that he actually hung up on Tony, not that he had bad reception.

Steve begins to go into details about their mission and what the plan is, and Thor makes a comment that the mission seemed personal. Steve is vague with his response, but neither Thor nor Sam comment about it. When Thor mentions cutting off 'every head of the beast', Sam makes a joke, in which Thor replies that his mother used to read the Vǫluspá to him and Loki when they were younger.

As they approach the base, Thor makes a inquiry about female Winter Soldier's and if they were as strong and skilled as Valkyries, in which Sam and Steve both imply that (Y/n) is most likely on par with one since she was able to embed a knife into the strongest glass in the world. After a while, the three arrive to the base, and though Steve tries to plan out a strategic entrance, Thor immediately begins to assault the base.

Steve makes a note that the place seems deadly silent and completely barren, no furniture or desks in sight. Thor comes back with a similar report, telling Steve that the base is completely abandoned, and Sam makes a comment that it seems as though HYDRA already seems to know where the Avengers will be looking. He inquires about a possible infiltration in Wakanda, and Thor tells Steve that they should get to Wakanda as soon as possible. Thor and Steve leaving using the Bifrost Bridge while Sam stays behind to take the quinjet home. End scene.

TRANSLATIONS:

Vǫluspá: "The Prophecy of the Völva [Seeress]". It is one of the most famous and important poems in the Poetic Edda, which is a collection of Old Norse mythos and poems. The Vǫluspá goes into detail about Norse Mythology, including the creation of the world, its current state, and its ultimate destruction during Ragnarök—the apocalyptic battle of the gods—and subsequent rebirth.

Valkyrie: [Valkyrja] "Chooser of the Slain": A warrior faction of Norse Mythology often depicted as powerful Asgardian women who serve Odin. Their main role is to choose which Asgardian warrior will live or die in battle. They also guide the fallen warrior to Valhalla, Odin's great hall in Asgard where the warriors [known as Einherjar] prepare for Ragnarök

TAGLIST: @tilldeathripsusapart @vicmc624 @mgchaser @aash3 @samfunko @seventeen-x @valckenaux @babybeeelle @sc4rrc @cjand10 @bane-y-zane

[izadi234]

Forget me not

-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English.

Yan! Batfamily x gn! reader

Chapters

Chapter 1 (You're here)

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 1

You can't remember a time when you didn't live under the roof of Wayne Manor. Those hallways that for a 4-year-old child seemed chilling and eternal, today you consider a prison. And no, they don't keep you locked up or anything like that, in fact they give you a lot of freedom within this house, but you can consider that so-called 'freedom' as negligence.

Yes, negligence. Of course you had clothes to wear, a bed to sleep in, a roof to shelter in, but what about love? If they could ask you if you have ever felt loved in your home, the answer would be simple.

No not once

Bruce Wayne, your father, may be one of the biggest billionaires in this world but it seems his love and attention was limited towards you. But, with your brothers? It seemed to be an endless well of love and patience that he gave them.

Unconditional love, something you always looked for.

Or maybe he was busy owning one of the most successful companies in the world or cosplaying a vampire to help the city.

Yes… in short, Bruce no longer knew what excuse to give himself for not spending time with you.

And your brothers? They weren't much better. Richard "Dick" Grayson may be very loving and charming but with you? You were just a zero on the left. He didn't think you needed attention as much as his traumatized brothers and sisters. You, being a normal civilian, knew that you were safe from anything, so he only limited himself to greeting you with that little smile that at first seemed warm to you, but now it just cracks your teeth to see it.

As if he were the perfect brother.

Jason Todd was everything to you until it became nothing. You met him in his days as Robin and the truth is he was nice to you and you had a good relationship with him (they are only three years apart). When Dick wasn't at the mansion he would play with you and let you watch him train. He was your greatest confidant, your best friend… Until the Joker killed him. When he came back to life you couldn't recognize him, was he really your brother? A being full of hate and revenge? So much so that even though he saw you once after years, he just turned around.

And although he already has a better relationship with his family, it seems that your loving relationship as brothers ended that day he died. He didn't even look at you, much less talk to you.

What a hypocrite.

You can't say anything about Timothy Drake.  Seriously, and it's not because he's a great brother, it's because you've literally never talked to him.  You only know of his existence because of the times Dick shouted his name in excitement at him every time he came to the mansion and because you found out that Todd wanted to kill him.  Furthermore, your room and his are in the same hallway with the slight difference that your room was at the end.

Spoiled child...

Damian Wayne was a totally unique case.  He was violent and explosive but apparently your father preferred him over you.  Damian considered you a zero on the left.  He never found value in you, neither in your physique (you didn't fight), nor in your mind (you're not outstanding) so he didn't waste even a second insulting you or degrading you.

According to him, you were just a nuisance to the Wayne family and a disappointment to the Batfamily. And it didn't matter if you were going to complain to Bruce about Damian's behavior, he always made excuses for it.

Is this how unconditional love looks like?

Cassandra Cain was another ghost like you inside the mansion... With the only difference that she did pay attention to her even though she didn't talk much.  She was never interested in interacting with you even though you tried several times.

Even a mute could attract more attention than you...

Stephanie Brown.  An extroverted girl who wasn't afraid to give her opinion, but apparently she didn't have any opinion about you.  She always gets excited to see others and she was quick to look for things to do with them.  But, if she saw you, she would just give you a slightly awkward smile and she would get out of there quickly.

She runs away from you like you have the plague.

Barbara Gordon is seen by most of the family as an older sister, however you see her as a grumpy secretary.  You could be the most respectful person in the world towards her but just seeing you next to her asking what she was doing made her look at you as if you were a villain she is looking for.

I'm sure she hasn't seen a villain with the irritation she sees you with.

Duke Thomas is the new addition to the Wayne Family.  You have nothing against him, he is a kind and smiling boy. Who you could even consider to be the kindest to you of all your brothers.

When he first came to Wayne Manor, despite you being a nobody in that family, he took an interest in you. At first you thought he did it out of pity, but when one day you heard him asking Alfred where you were because he wanted to show you something, that's when you realized he wasn't doing it out of pity. And that made you feel special, being the sibling Duke turned to.

But you couldn't help but hate how easily he integrated into the family. How easily they accepted him.

And last but not least, Alfred Pennyworth.  He tried to be there for you and he encouraged you to keep trying to get your family's attention. But even with the butler's attention you couldn't help but long for the affection of your father and brothers.

You are more sure that without him you would have gone crazy in that big mansion. 

For that reason, the only ones you would miss once you left that place would be Alfred and Duke.

"Would you be mad at me if I decided to leave the mansion?”

What a bad way to start a conversation.

You were sitting at the kitchen counter. As was custom you watched Alfred make breakfast, occasionally helping him. The butler, upon hearing your question, momentarily stopped what he was doing. Thanks to his poker face, Alfred didn't show any surprise but you knew well that he wasn't expecting that question.

"Pardon me, master (name)?”

"Would you forget about me if I left the mansion?" you asked

"Of course not!" Alfred quickly answered, his tone of voice a little high. However, upon noticing the change in his tone of voice he composed his posture again.

“I mean, of course I would never forget you, master (name). Why do you ask me those questions?”

"You know why Alfie" you sighed.

Alfred likewise sighed and turned off the stove where he was cooking. He walked over to you and sat down in front of you.

"Master (name)…" he was saying but you interrupted him.

"No Alfred… Could you let me talk… please..?" you asked gently but firmly

"Since I came to this place fifteen years ago I have always been part of the ghosts of this mansion and- and I got tired of being that. For a long time I have been thinking about moving somewhere else, away from this mansion, away from them…” You said that last sentence angrier but you controlled your temper.

"But… I can't leave knowing that you don't agree with my decision. I can't stand the thought of you being angry with me.”

You couldn't even imagine a world where he, Alfred Pennyworth, the man who decided to take your father's tablecloth, was angry with you. But even if he gets angry at your decision, you are going to follow your plan to leave the city.

Alfred smiled slightly and took your hand.

"You know very well that I would support you in whatever my little one does. Unless that decision put your life in danger of course" they both laughed at that comment.

"So that's a yes?" you asked with hope in your eyes and voice

"Yes" he nodded "Just take care of yourself"

You could see in his eyes that there was a bit of fear in his eyes as well as something else that you didn't know what it was and you didn't pay attention to it at that moment.

You should have paid more attention to him in that moment.

"Thanks Alfie" you hugged him regardless of the fact that the table was between the two of you. The butler hugged you anyway, his hug felt warm and safe.

"You don't have to thank me, Master (name)"

Then you broke away from the hug and ran to your room with a big smile on your face. You were finally going to be able to live the way you wanted, without living in the shadow of everyone. Finally free.

Once in your room you started making some calls and organizing your things quietly (not that the inhabitants of this mansion cared much about what you did) so as not to attract attention. In a week, this place will only be a bad dream and you will be able to move from this nightmare to a dream with a happy ending.

Or not?

Hellooo! I hope you liked the start of this story! To be honest, this has been something I have wanted to do for a long time. And Let me remind you that English isn't my first language so if you find some mistakes I would appreciate fo you to tell me in a good way.

Anyway, if you liked it I'll appreciate for you leave a heart.

See you in the next one!!

-Izadi <3

[crepezinhos]

Hii! Could I please request yan! Diluc and yan! Xiao with a darling on hunger strike?(basically she refuses to eat unless freed)

Ty 4 reading my request!

Starving For Love

(REQUEST #9) POV: At the end of the day, despite all their twisted actions, words, and thoughts, you know they do it just because of the weird kind of love they feel for you. They’re cautious about everything that happens to you, to a point where you can’t have the freedom to hang out wherever you want. So why not threaten them with something they can’t control?

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is an angsty SFW Oneshot

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— AU is: Modern for both characters

— Abusive!Yandere!Xiao + Diluc

— Contains violent themes such as: starvation, self-harm, physical harming/abuse, forced marriage, imprisonmen, mentions of SA and lots of bad words

Xiao: Being on His Shoes

Xiao was a man that went through a lot. He was abandoned by his parents in the streets, which forced to learn how to survive as a homeless, hungry kid, barely making it through every day. Then, he was recruited by a man that basically enslaved him under a manipulative contract in exchange for a stable home, food and water. Even when he was saved by Zhongli, the country’s war general, and given a real, free life, he managed to lose all that he loved once again, but this time during an event that is now called the Archon War. If only he hadn’t volunteered to participate that day… he wouldn’t have met all the friends he made in the way or have to watch them all die in brutal, bloody ways. A shot in the heart, multiple gunshots, explosions, being kidnapped by the enemy… he had seen it all with those amber eyes and he definitely wished to never witness something close to it again.

That’s why when he met you and fell in love with you, he went paranoid. He couldn’t just let you roam free in the cruel world where you two live in. He could easily lose you to some stupid, or cruel reason if he let you have freedom to walk wherever you wanted.

He couldn’t even trust his loyal companions when it came to you. Maybe they would take advantage of his trust on them to take you away from him. Xiao didn’t understand that not everyone viewed you as this heaven-sent angel as he did. He thought you naturally attracted everything to yourself with your beauty, kindness, will to work hard, including men with bad intentions, so he decided to completely censor you for the world, only to be seen by his eyes.

And, now, you’ve been in this repetitive cycle of practically living in a chamber in his home for months. He was completely ignorant to any protest, either ignoring them or not even noticing them, which was making you run out of ideas.

But, now that you were reminded of the man’s past, thanks to Ganyu, your old boss, you had brainstormed an idea that could finally trigger him into saying ‘yes’, and tonight, you wished to test it.

“Adeptus Xiao went through a lot. From hunger to watching his friends die… he pretty much went through all miseries of the world and refuses to help himself. I apologize for his aloof manner, Ms. Y/N…”

You dearly missed to hear her sweet voice bossing you around. When Xiao wanted to boss you, his voice didn’t have any other motivation rather than his own selfishness, he simply wanted to own your soul. And let’s not mention how war-cry-like tone in his orders were when he was angry.

“Y/N.” The door of your chamber, where you were sleeping at, was finally opened. A comforting shine of the house’s upstairs’ lights came inside the room too, lifting up your spirit a little bit. “I made this for you.” He walked up to you with a plate of your favorite food, whose smell was mouth-watering to you.

“Thank you.” You decided to not get up from your bed, or stare back at him. Watching the few, unmoving stars in the sky you could see from the room’s window was more entertaining than him and his food.

Xiao thought that maybe you just weren’t hungry in the moment, and decided to place it in the ground by your bed gently. He wasn’t satisfied with the way you acted there, but he had no option but to leave. Just to make sure you were fine, as soon as he closed the door, instead of walking upstairs, he decided to lean his body down and peek his eyes through the peephole before. You remained immobile as expected, unaware of him being invasive to your privacy, but at least you didn’t seem to be trying to put in action some another stupid plan to possibly escape from him. That’s when Xiao finally decided to let go of you for now.

.

“Y/N?” You heard his voice right above your right ear, a little sharper than usual, causing you to wake up in a shiver.

You looked upwards, meeting his eyes wide and worried. Your stomach was constantly aching and rumbling for food now, specifically your favorites ones, but you decided to keep acting like nothing was going on.

“Why didn’t you eat your dinner?” He pulled the plate with food and showed it to you. Now, the smell of it wasn’t too pleasant.

“I didn’t like the food.” You managed to tell the lie smoothly. You’ve been rehearsing that for the past hours to make sure it was spoken normally.

“It doesn’t look like you’ve taken a single bite out of it.” He sounded more stressed this time, worried about the accuracy of your words.

“It didn’t look good. I couldn’t bring myself to eat it, I’m sorry.” Xiao was surprised at your words and your nonchalant attitude, just turning around to go to sleep like you hadn’t just almost cut his heart in half. No one, not even you when you were protesting, has ever said that his cooking was bad.

His concern immediately took over him. He grabbed the fork hanging at a corner of the plate and brought it the food.

Despite the fact that it was awfully cold and a little out of date, it still didn’t really taste as bad as you described it to be. It couldn’t possibly be worse when it was still fresh and warm.

“Are you… sure?” He couldn’t even believe he was asking you such a question.

“Yeah.” You shrugged your shoulders, a little nervous about staring at him in the eyes now.

“I should get you something to eat now, then—” Xiao immediately begun walking to the kitchen before even finishing talking to you.

“No.” You murmured, slightly quiet, but he still heard you like that was a scream, and stopped to look back at you again. “I’m not hungry.” You smiled at him, knowing it’d help convincing him.

“You’re… not?” Xiao was dumbfounded.

“No.” You shrugged your shoulders again and decided to lay down at the bed again.

Sleeping was the only thing you could do to ease your hunger pains and slow it down as much as possible.

“Ok…” His eyebrows frowned, beginning to suspect that you had other things in mind.

He decided to try avoiding any possibilities of you doing something against his rules, so, for the rest of the morning, he forced you to stay around him while he worked with many documents. Leaving you alone in a room where you’d have privacy to do whatever you wished to did not seem like a smart idea to Xiao. And, of course, it comforted him to have you around, despite your hatred for him.

But, of course, his mind was quickly unsettled by your disinterest in food. Xiao would’ve probably ignored it for a longer period if it wasn’t for his own experiences with hunger.

What a trigger you pulling on him.

As a kid, sometimes he would have to eat bugs, spiders, snow… so many messed-up digestible things to survive. He knows the feeling of starvation like it was his shadow. It was slow, painful, agonizing… so he obviously want to protect you from it at all cost.

“It’s 2 in the noon. You haven’t eaten anything.” Xiao finally exploded and expressed his concern out of the blue, stopping his document-reading to pay attention at you.

“I’m not hungry.” You repeated yourself.

“I don’t care!” Xiao finally stood up, slapping the table with both hands, making you slightly shiver on your spot. “I’ll bring you lunch.” He walked out of the room in a hurry, stressed and disturbed by your behavior.

He didn’t take long to, once again, bring a plate of the food he had cooked the day before. There was no way you hated his cooking that bad. He took your words in the most offensive way possible, and now he wanted to see you eat it to make sure you actually don’t like it.

Your face remained normal as he came back and approached you with the tray of food in his hands. He sat down by your side and begun forking the food for you, expecting you to respond obediently, but instead, you just kept staring at him like he was invisible.

“Open your mouth.” He brought the fork closer to your mouth but you simply grinned in response.

“No.” Your voice was normal, but it felt like a sting to him.

“I want to see you eating the food. If I see that you really don’t like it, I’ll cook something else. You could also help me cooking if that helps you.” Xiao’s eyes were barely blinking at that point, completely desperate to see the answers of his experiment.

“I’ve been saying it this entire time, yet, you still don’t realize it.” You looked down to giggle with a little bit more of respect. “I don’t want to eat.“ You rose your head again, courageous to pro rest, but Xiao still seemed to not get it.

“Hum?” He hummed in confusion.

You don’t way to eat?

Is that really what you said right now?

You want to starve until you’re crying in pain?

“I’m hungry, but I don’t want to eat. I’m not going to eat.” You crossed both your arms and legs while doing a staring competition with him.

“What are you talking about?” Xiao lowered the fork, anxiety already beginning to accelerate his heart.

“I’m tired of this, Xiao. I’m tired of living in some shit, gray chamber every single day of my life. I want my freedom back again.” Xiao’s eyes widened with that sentence, realization starting to take him.

Is that why you don’t want to eat your meal? You want freedom first? Freedom of what? You’re free in his house.

“Are you trying to negotiate your rights in this house?” Xiao’s voice was low, yet threatening like he was a fox, preparing to attack you.

“Yes, I am.” You remained unmoved, despite his adrenaline levels raising and his tone growing more violent.

“Do you want to be locked up in that room for the next 5 days?!” Xiao immediately threatened, standing up just to grab you by the collar of your clothes, which didn’t really make you flinch. “You’re not going to get anything. You’re good where you are. Now, be a good girlfriend and open your mouth.” Although he was trying to scare you into obeying him, the way his hands were trembling with anxiety made his threat look pathetic.

No… no… you can’t be preferring to be on his old shoes instead of enjoying all the modernity he offered you in that house. You can’t be preferring to kill yourself brutally and slowly rather than being his girlfriend.

Xiao grunted as he thought of those and genuinely tried shoving the spoon closer to your mouth, but your instincts reacted first and you flinched your head to the side, using your ams to hold and push his arm back. It almost worked for Xiao, but the food still couldn’t reach inside your red flesh. Even if it did, you could just spit it out anyway.

When Xiao thought of that too, he intensified his weight on top of you. He could control so many things of you, yet, he couldn’t control what your brain chose for your interns. Perhaps locking you in a room would be better for your little plan too, so what could he do?

What could he do?

What could he do?!

WHAT COULD HE DO?!?!

“No..!” You responded, barely opening your mouth to not let him possibly hold it on place and shove food down your throat.

“You better stop with this nonsense right now, Y/N!” Xiao’s eyebrows frowned even more, looking absolutely serious about your threat.

“I won’t stop with it until I get my freedom back, and there’s nothing you can do about it! Do you know how it feels to be stuck at home 24/7 with a person that’s not worth it?! I want my freedom back right now, Xi—!” Before you could rant all your feelings out of their gates, Xiao’s hand jumped on you, making way into your mouth and holding it open.

“Shut up… SHUT UP! You don’t want to do this, Y/N, you don’t!” Xiao repeated over and over while trying to fight the strength you were putting in your jaw to bite him. “You’re gonna eat this meal… you’ll be ok… and you’ll be grateful for the rights you already have..!” He started using his other hand to aim the fork of food inside you, causing you to try fighting him even more. “You can’t hate me… not this much… you can’t..! There’s no reason for you to hate me this much! I could be acting way worse, you know?! But I am merciful to you, and only you…” You’ve never heard him talk so desperately like that while managing to shove a few crumbs of food, inside your mouth, in which you quickly started pushing out of you with your tongue.. “EAT! FOR GOD’S SAKE, JUST EAT!” Xiao started bobbing and shaking your arms, trying to possibly wake you up from your delusion. “Why are you doing this?! Why?! Why?!?! I give you everything that you need to live safely!” He finally jumped away from you so he could continue ranting with more freedom, walking in slow circles around the room.

You started hyperventilating immediately, coughing too to make sure that was absolutely no nutrients going down your throat.

“Y/N, I know what hunger feels like… you don’t want to do this over something so stupid like freedom to go outside…” Xiao covered his face with his hands due to the trigger he was getting from his own memories. “Why would you even want it..? To go shopping?! I can do that for you!” You scoffed at his words.

“There’s no point in discussing this with you.” You shook your head side-to-side. “Let me have freedom.” You insisted another time.

But, unlike what you expected from the triggered man in front of you, did not submit to your wish, and this time he made sure you’d be punished for the agony you’re making him feel for your well-being.

.

You spent the next hours just screaming and banging the door of your cell, talking about how you’d not eat until you got your freedom and for him to let you out, over, and over, and over… until you fell asleep, disappointed at yourself for not calling his attention.

But you were wrong. Of course Xiao could keep his eyes on you even when he was far. There was a single, miserably small camera in a corner of the room that could move to every angle of the room that you never spotted. As soon as he counted 10 minutes of you not moving in the bed, he decided to climb down and visit you.

Although hunger was making you fall asleep easier and harder, Xiao knew that you were alert to every touch of his due to your disgust. So he has to keep his steps smooth, his breathing calm, and his touch barely sensible.

He very slowly closed the door, the ‘bang’ noise fortunately didn’t wake you up. Then, he gently stepped around the room in soft spots until he could reach his hands on you.

It reached a loose strand of your pijama’s borders and slowly pulled them upwards until he could mire most of your chest. Although your underwear and raw skin did distract him a bit, as soon as his eyes landed on your ribs, now with visible bone curves, twisted his stomach upside down.

He remembered when he first realized his slimness when he was a famine kid. He would rub his hands around his ribs, finding the curves of his bones cool to play with, but as soon as his stomach ached for some source of energy, he curled up in agony and sobbed, praying for food to somehow appear for him.

To think of you in such situation made his grip tighten instinctively in your dress. He would’ve sheltered you or anyone in that situation immediately. But, now that he’s in love with you, he specifically belies you shouldn’t ever go through the hardships of Liyue for no good reason, even if you want to. After all, it is one of the many reasons why he keeps you stuck in one safe place with no access to harm.

But… it still failed to keep you safe from harm or simply to make you like it. You were supposed to be feeling comfortable at his home, not starving yourself to get out of it. He hated to see you doing that to yourself because of him. What a mean trick of you to use such a method of self-harm against his sensibility. One that he directly relates to, one that he directly fears and repels.

He can’t let you do that.

He can’t let you feel what it feels like to step in concrete-made streets, or in snow, with care feet.

He can’t let you feel cold enough to have your fingers and nose burning due to the heat shock of it.

He can’t let you feel hungry enough to think a beetle could be nutritious.

He can’t let you sell your dignity for some poor, soulless cheater.

He can’t let no man take advantage of you and place their dirty hands on you.

If he went through enough misery being a man, the thought of what it would be the woman he loves in his place makes him want to vomit.

He can’t let you hurt yourself.

.

“Ms. Y/N?” You heard a female voice above you.

Your body shivered in fear. It’s been a while since you’ve last been waken up by one of Xiao’s house maids.

“W-What…” The first thing you felt was a sting in your stomach and rumbling noises coming from it. Hunger was really becoming serious now.

Your eyes were aching to close again and your arms were barely handling to hold you sat in the bed due to the lack of energy in you.

“Here.” She offered you a whole pile of documents organized in a folder. “I’ll be your assigned caretaker.” She bowed to you and begun walking away from the room to let you have privacy to read the documents.

You watched the Mai’s leave in disbelief. From that sentence, you assumed that you won the game you proposed and that made your eyes open in joy.

You quickly turned to the folder, and the first thing your eyes landed on when you opened it was a small, orange sticky note.

“Please eat before beginning to read this.

I’ll be back at 8. You have until that time to enjoy the city.”

You rapidly removed the note from the white sheet in which it was glued against after reading it, desperate to dig out the context for that note and to satisfy your hopes. Your eyes were flashed by a whole pile of white sheets with multiple essays written in Arial font and in black color. You quickly ran through various pages, meeting various titles and sections for it all, like you were reading a law. Finally, you went back to the first page, and decided to finally take a look at the enormous title at the top of the page.

Your Rights of Freedom

And you could swear a tear rolled down your cheek.

Diluc: Bipolarity

Diluc was a man that had all advantages over you, and he used those to trap you in his house and control how you acted. He had money, power, influence, security… everything that you didn’t have more of.

Your life, right now, could be easily described as “depressing”, and nothing else.

You had no freedom at all. You were forced to abandon your friends, family and career dreams, to become a traditional wife. All you were left with were the maids of his home, but Diluc still restricted your relationship with them a lot, or else they’d surely suffer enormous consequences. You couldn’t ever leave the house, not even to the backyards. Diluc wasn’t even sacred of the possibility of you running away or you telling someone about your relationship with him, he just wanted to have you entirely for him and his needs. A perfect wife who was devoted to him and happy to pleasure him. But, since he couldn’t achieve that from you naturally, he used those financial advantages to force you to devote to him. The only times you’d ever get out of that house was when he wanted to bring you out with him and possibly bond with you truthfully, but since you wouldn’t demonstrate any interest, he’d rarely do so. For some reason he still believes he has the chance of making you genuinely fall in love with him. Don’t blame him! He tried making you love him for many years, ever since the beginning of college, but you never saw him as anymore than a friend! Diluc, in the other hand, was so obsessed with you and your rejection to his confession that he could barely sleep comfortably. Thoughts of you and him together filled his mind 24/7. He dreamed to have you wearing beautiful dresses for him, especially the white one, with a bouquet of flowers in your hands. The only things that ruined how Diluc processed his feelings was his father’s death. He loved his father, but never quite appreciated his efforts truly. When he died, an avalanche of guilt was thrown in Diluc, making him feel worthless for many years for not being as grateful as he should been to his dad. He was so scared of ever wasting anyone he loved again that he decided to make you his before you could ever think about getting a boyfriend, instead of simply letting you go.

And if you disobeyed his orders, he would punish you in multiple ways, either physically or mentally. But, since your fears made you submit as soon as he threatened you of punishment, you’d never actually found a reason to fear Diluc.

That phase was the worst phase of your life. Having to abandon literally everything you’ve built and have been building was a poison that only rose deeper in your blood vessels. And to submit to a toxic man, and having to act like a perfect robot that couldn’t do mistakes was truly draining. You had a soul. You had passions. Not even some passions of yours were free to you. Films with violence or sex? He won’t let you watch it. Films with female empowerment? He won’t let you watch it. Romance novels? He won’t let you even think about it. You protested, and protested, and protested… but Diluc never heard you. You were his, by law, and while you were stuck in there, there was nothing you could do about it.

Don’t get him wrong, he hated to see you staring at nothing, wondering if this mess of a ‘marriage’ will ever end. But if it meant he could make you love him, even if it was due to a Stockholm Syndrome, he didn’t see much problems in imprisoning you like that.

Once again, you were tired of it all. You wanted to regain the confidence you used to have once again. Breaking his furniture wouldn’t annoy him, harming him wouldn’t annoy him, harming other people around wouldn’t annoy him, not even if you harmed yourself would be enough.

But… what if you harmed yourself in a way he can’t control? Because if you slash your wrists or throw yourself from the home’s third floor, he could still take you to a hospital and save your life. Because he can stop you from dying pretty easily. But what if the harm was in stomach, a place his hands can’t reach?

So, you made the choice of starvation for this month’s protest.

.

“Do you not like the food?” He asked to you while you simply stared at the plate in boredom with your hands in your thighs.

“I’m not hungry, my dear.” You said despite your desperate wish to eat that delicious, juicy, medium-rare beef the cooks had made.

Every time the words ‘my dear’ has to come out of you, it felt like a stab in your heart. How many angels have lost their wings yet with every time you were forced to call him that?

“Eat.” He demanded with a more real tone this time.

“I’m feeling sick, my dear, please.” You decided to put your hands around your belly to make your lie look more real.

“What are your symptoms?” He already seemed to suspect your words.

“Nausea. A heavy one.” You covered your face with your hands and started rubbing your fingers around your forehead, as if you were trying to act more ‘sick’ to him.

He remained quiet for a few seconds, judging your argument and trying to remember if you’ve acted like that throughout the day. Perhaps you could be lying, but illnesses usually show up unexpectedly, so there was a possibility of the same really happening to you right now. Maybe one of the things you ate today were rotten and were making you feel sick like that. He could already feel some anger rising in his veins, thinking about the punishment he’d give to the cooks that let rotten food reach your beautiful pink lips.

“Ok. Go to bed.” He ordered you, this time more sweet and trustful about your claim.

Thankfully, there was a TV in his room, which was what you usually used to make free time run faster. Since you had many “wife duties”, you’d barely have time to sit on that bed and enjoy yourself with that big screen, to instead, spend an insufferable amount of time with him. Spending hours watching whatever you wanted on it, since he wasn’t there to monitor, you enjoyed yourself like never before. It was a great time, and you were glad you got to enjoy a little bit of your life again before it was absolutely crushed.

.

“What do you want for breakfast today?” He asked while leaning down to put his leather shoes on, on the right corner of the bed, and you, putting on a cozy robe in the opposite side of the bed.

“I’m not hungry, my dear.” You were short with your words, and refused to look back at him.

He remained silent, but you could sense his eyes preying at you, pausing his own shoe-putting.

“What are you trying to do, Y/N?” His voice already sounded scary to you, but you unfortunately had to swallow it all down to keep posture.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what are you talking about.” You still tried to act like everything was alright.

“You’re always hungry for breakfast, Y/N, no matter if you ate dinner or not. How are you not hungry after a whole night without eating a thing?” He finally went back to putting his shoes back on, so he could get off the bed as soon as possible to walk up to you.

His tall, menacing figure, standing close to yours, made your body harden in fear and flinch away from him. You couldn’t do it. No matter how many hours of practice and self-reassurance, you couldn’t even make eye contact with him when he was standing like that. A threat.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Y/N?” He asked, but you couldn’t find anything to answer again. “Stay right there. I’ll bring you food first.” The sudden change in his harsh tone to a more normal one, made you swallow all your saliva down your throat in relief, feeling how badly it had accumulated and stuck to your mouth during this moment of silence.

As soon as you heard his steps growing quieter and quieter, you sighed all the air you couldn’t exhale previously.

You closed your eyes and begun doing a breathing exercise, knowing you were certainly going to go through something bad, but with some hopes that at least it would be worth it.

It didn’t take Diluc long to come back with a plate of your favorite meal. Your mouth salivated to eat it, but you simply looked away instead, causing your stomach to rumble in denial.

“Here.” He sat down by your side and lifted his arm with the fork in his hand, but you refused to even look at it. “Look at me, Y/N.” His eyes were barely bruising your skin with their intensity.

“No.” You firmly stated. That was probably the only word you’d be able to mumble without stuttering.

“Excuse me?” Diluc sounded a little ironic, which triggered you into finally standing up for yourself.

“I will not eat any sort of food u-until you l-let me..!” You had to breathe in and out a deeply before managing to gather courage to finish your sentence. “Until you let me have my freedom back!” You closed your eyes and screamed. Without seeing his face, you had courage to scream whatever you wanted to him.

You proceeded to hyperventilate, waiting for him to give an initial argument for you to debunk.

Diluc suddenly threw the fork in some corner in the room. The sound of silver crashing around the floor multiple times made your body flinch back hard, completely opposite to your bravery. You saw his hands laying in the bed right after, using them as a support to stand up.

Yeah, you’re done for.

You thought that sentence to yourself over and over while looking down, preferring to listen to the eery noises of wood cranking with every step of his than staring at his poisonous eyes.

You thought that sentence to yourself over and over while looking down, preferring to listen to the eery noises of wood cranking with every step of his than staring at his poisonous eyes.

But, instead of what you expected, he simply stared down at you from a really short distance, in one of the deadliest silences ever.

“No matter what you say… I’ll not give up until I get my freedom ba—”

SLAP!

Before you could even groan from the agonizing pain of his tough hand crashing against your soft skin, he forcefully pulled your chin back with his hand until you were staring at him again. Now, you finally managed to let out some gasps and moans of pain.

“What kind of nonsense are you trying to babble right now, hum?” He whispered like everything you’ve said yet was an unfunny joke. “You’re not going to get any sort of freedom. I don’t care what you do to fight for it.” He tried breaking your confidence down, obviously not allowing you to defend yourself.

He remained quiet for some seconds again, admiring your pathetic hope to get his hand off your chin.

Diluc sighed and suddenly used a few of his force to pull you closer to him and spin the both of you around, making your feet pathetically dance in the floor to keep yourself balanced in it, and then pushed you.

You weren’t really scared of that, since you figured you’d fall in the bed, but you were terrified of his intentions. Seeing yourself in such position under him while he stared down at you with a stoic face made you wonder of what he intended to do with you.

From saying mean things to you, from threatening the well-being of anyone you loved, from harming you physically, or even… sexually.

The natural female fear of rape, which was already further intensified due to the situation he forced you to be in, took you over.

“D-Don’t…” You couldn’t even cry for him to not harm you like that, only curl up your legs and pull the bed’s sheets to censor the view he had of your body.

Diluc never really assaulted you like that. It was pretty unreasonable to expect that from him. But the way he unconsciously mired down at your legs made you absolutely certain that he’d do it, especially considering the hundreds of disadvantages you had compared to him.

“Don’t what?” He unexpectedly turned away from you, walking to the other side of the room in a normal pace.

You hated how his mood would change like a light switch. It was barely predictable. It’d always make you act contrary to his intentions, which was either annoying to him, or funny. When you were afraid of punishment, when there was no punishment, made him proud of how he tamed you. But when you acted sarcastic or unworried when there was punishment, had his blood boiling.

You heard silver noises coming from behind. Diluc was picking up the silver spoon he had previously thrown to scare you.

“N-Nothing…” You finally managed to answer his question, still too scared to leave the spot in the bed he threw tou at.

“My dear.” He completed your sentence with a sarcastic, but angry, tone, like he was tired of having to repeat that order over and over.

“M-My dear…” You repeated like a scared noise, which he luckily found cute.

You saw him coming back to you, rubbing a piece of his suit in both sides of the fork.

“I hope you don’t mind this was on the floor a few seconds ago.” He sat down by your side again, immediately focusing on the plate that was resting between you two. “Open your mouth.” He ordered again, as if nothing that you previously said even reached his ears in the first place.

You frowned your eyebrows, barely gasping at his audacity to ignore you.

“I already said I’m not eating anything!” You found courage to stand up against him again, which made Diluc sigh in annoyance.

Diluc stood up again and didn’t have any patience before fisting his hands and unexpectedly using them against your belly. It was a single hard punch that barely knocked your stomach out of your mouth. You curled your body and groaned in pain, trying to hold your will to vomit back to its place.

“Are you really going to force me into doing this?” His voice was low, contrasting the quivering woman kneeling under him.

“Y-Yes…” Your mouth barely pooled saliva in the floor as you tried to resist that punch’s pain.

“It would be better for you if you stopped this nonsense right now.” Diluc pulled your hair all the way to the back, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

But you hardened your face and nodded side-to-side, knowing that was simply a manipulative trick of his to convince you into giving up.

Diluc sighed again, and this time, he forced you to look down, immediately meeting his knee hooking hard against your face. As soon as he hears your moan, he let his grip in your hair go too, which made you immediately fall into the ground to your back, knocked down. You could already feel your nose aching from being twisted and blood drips running down from you. With trembling hands, you tried wiping them off, no matter if Diluc was already stepping closer, this time with the plate in his hands again.

“I wonder what suddenly got you so confident like that. Did you consume anything inappropriate yesterday in the TV?” He kneeled down, beginning to aim the fork to your mouth again, thinking you were already defeated.

Even if Diluc was the kind of man to worship you and your beauty in every opportunity and take all care necessary to keep your body unharmed, what he did to you right now was the complete opposite of your expectations of him. You’d never know it, but in the end of the day, Diluc secretly thought you looked even prettier when you were bleeding, especially because it was done by his hands. The contrast in the color of blood and your skin was always something that called his attention, and seeing it in your beautiful face made him delighted.

This time, you wanted to clarify your protest, and allowed him to put the food in your mouth, only for you to turn your head to the floor and spit every single crumb of it, each one that he saw falling in the woods itching his nerves.

“Tch.” He rose his body up again, immediately proceeding to punish you physically.

This time, he decided to take the opportunity of your exposed neck and cheek to barely crush your head using his foot, stepping and rubbing the leather on your cheek mercilessly.

“Why the fuck can’t you just be a normal wife like in every other couple?! WHY?!” His foot uncontrollably raised from your face and moved down, beginning to kick and hook multiple spots of your body while he screamed “Why” a million times.

.

This was probably one of the most suicidal eras of your life. To be spanked until you were put in a hospital bed and to wake up to him immediately threatening to harm your parents if you didn’t give up in your stupid plan, or told anyone in the hospital about your relationship, when you couldn’t even speak due to the breather, was definitely a gut-wrenching nightmare.

You gave up in your plan. Thankfully, neither of you made any comments about it, even if he had every opportunity to shame you for your stupidity. That’s exactly what he used to do after one of your plans failed. He mocked you, shamed you and punished you. A true torture that you would have to endure every time you failed.

“Y/N.” He called you again as you ate dinner in opposite side of the table to him.

Your whole body flinched as you heard his voice call you. It’s been a week since your latest protest attempt and it’s been a week since you’ve begun flinching to every action of his directed to you. It was inevitable. It was your first time ever being a victim of such kind of brutal abuse. You were scared for your like to make anything that would possibly trigger him into doing it again. Although you could’ve begun acting like that on pirose to make him feel guilty, this time, your fear was genuine, and he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Yes, my dear..?” You still had to answer to his every call with that nickname just like he taught you to.

“Do you—…” He wanted to ignore it, but he couldn’t anymore, and sighed, giving up on the idea of ignoring you again, and starting over again. “Why do you flinch every time I interact with you? Is this another trick of yours?” He dropped his fork in his plate and begun staring at you with calm eyes, trying to get you to feel comfortable with him, or threaten you if you were lying.

You wanted to scoff at him, anger barely raising to the tip of your tongue with such ingenuity, but you swallowed it down. You don’t want to die yet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, my dear.” You looked down and proceeded to eat, trying to make yourself less nervous.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” At this point, Diluc already knew you were lying about your ‘innocence’ when you lowered your head down so frenetically like that. “Is it because of last Monday?” You didn’t move any other muscle of your body rather than your jaw, biting your food as slow as a snail, to gather some courage before answering him.

When you finally swallowed, most of the accumulated saliva went down with the food too, preparing your mouth for speech.

“Is there any other alternative, hum?” You dropped your act for a moment and immediately shoved a piece of meat in your mouth again right after, fisting hard on the fork to not demonstrate him any more anger.

Diluc didn’t say anything else and just stared at you stoically for some good minutes before deciding to unpause his eating.

.

At bedtime, Diluc hugged you from behind as usual and fell asleep. You didn’t want to move a single muscle of your body, afraid he could get angry, practically curling yourself so he could hold you how he desired to and with ease. Of course Diluc noticed it too. You’d never slept so paralyzed by his side. Sometimes you’d even turn around and unconsciously hug him during your slumber, but now, he couldn’t feel a bit of comfort in the way you slept.

“Y/N.” He whispered, causing you to shiver once again.

You failed, didn’t you?

“Relax.” His voice immediately triggered you into obeying him.

You couldn’t relax your whole body, of course, but you did enough for him there, relaxing your legs and shoulders. It was enough for him not to bother you again with it.

Diluc was pissed. And your behavior was only growing his anger more and more. He did use fear to train you as a wife most of the times, but he never intended to make you so uncomfortable like that. He intended to slave you into loving him, not to slave you as an actual slave. You were doing so well previously, obeying him and still finding a few reasons to smile at him somehow, but not even gifts were turning you on now. Everything he did was like an alert to you

Why couldn’t you be a normal wife who dearly loves their husband? Every time he went to business-related parties and took you with him, he’d always meet his companions surrounded by their wives, who were happy to be holding their arms, to be wearing their rings, to be talking about their husbands to other women, while he didn’t get any of that from you. To everyone else, you were Diluc’s shy, weird and quiet wife, and now you’ve peaked those adjectives.

.

The alarm annoyingly ticked over and over, waking you up from your slumber. You couldn’t feel any weight around you, meaning Diluc had already gotten up. You sat up in the bed, leaning forward to turn the alarm off. You begun your morning by stretching your arms as usual and rearranging your pijamas back to their normal placement around your body, since they’d sometimes twist into really bizarre angles. While you prepared yourself for another depressive day, you heard the door to the bathroom slide.

“Good morning.” Diluc stared at you while walking to the closet in the opposite side of the room.

This morning, you attempted to not answer his greeting. You just weren’t in the mood of it, although that could’ve meant you’d get punished.

“If you’d like to go out today, I’ll assign a maid and a driver to take you anywhere you want to go.” His words caught you unexpectedly, especially since he was talking so neutrally about it, not even looking at you.

“W-… What..?” You could swear your eyes were shining in excitement.

“You heard me.” He refused to repeat his previous words, shrugging his shoulders as he ran his hand through his many hanged suits.

“I can… leave..?” You could feel your eyes get slightly wet.

“Yes. You have until 7 to come back. If you come home tardy, I’ll make sure your right of freedom will be reduced to zero again. And I believe I shouldn’t need to mention the consequences what will happen in case you tell anyone about our marriage.” Diluc quickly got dressed and left the room before he got any more flustered from hearing your sighs of relief and excitement. At least he was happy he managed to bring genuine joy to his beloved wife. “Goodbye.” He greeted before closing the door.

And a tear ran down your cheek.

From the relief of knowing that all your hard work had made profit.

Taglist: @the-stinky-winky @amoyanderes @kindofshyent @shyentsfoundherink @bigmantiddys @goofy-ego @luminieee

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[kagiura-akira]

You know I GOTTA know about something called "Desperate Kisses"!

What kind of desperation?

Is there angst?

*grabs popcorn*

Are you familiar with @dirtbra1n 's "Kagi is made of love" heritage post?

Well. Kagi in ch 23b made it very clear to us that it does, in fact, hurt to hold back.

And I am close to exploding so I needed a one shot to write and I chose desperate kisses but I think the prompt doesn't quiteeee fit??? It's more like. An explosion. There's pain though not necessarily angst.

Anyway I opened this draft just yesterday and it's not a full length fic, but rather an essay.

I think I'll move it out of the "kghr kisses challenge" project into its own document titled, "Entropy"

Spoilers for Hirano to Kagiura chapter 30

At times, Kagi is plagued by a small list of impossibilities spinning around his head. It taunts him. Now, his senpai wouldn't agree that there are such things for him (“Nothing is impossible for you, Kagi-kun!”), but he knows it's true. For example, coming in first place in his class in the end of term exams, or getting Muroi to stop texting him in weird code.

But the winner of the top spot in the list of impossibilities he thinks about is keeping his self control in line.

What happens when you take galaxies worth of love and super compact it into a smaller form?

Why, Kagiura Akira is born, of course.

With the entropy of billions of star systems and nebulae, any reasonable person would find it hard to contain.

Kagi likes to think he's reasonable.

The issue is, unfortunately, the would-be recipient of his affections is also a reasonable person. He can't burden him with this love as big as the sun itself, let alone millions and billions of galaxies worth affection.

Kagi is made of love—a love so great is puts his physical pain tolerance to the test. It wrenches his heart, stabs him in the lungs, knocks him off his feet like a sucker punch from the gods themselves. Stranded alone in the vast sea of his love, the waves crash violently over his head. Sinking, suffocating, he reaches for the surface like a man who can’t swim.

Kagi is made of love, and it hurts.

In his daily life, it manifests itself as a physical energy, which is exhilarating when put to good use (thank you, basketball) but exhausting when it festers. Such an entropic force brews exponentially in the physical embodiment of love that is Kagiura Akira. It can't be contained in a mere 17 year old human boy’s brain, let alone his heart. When Hirano smiles at him, when he quietly works away at his own homework alongside him, when he touches him—it’s so overwhelming, his brain overclocks and his heart stutters for a second or (or 500) too long.

So now, as he’s standing here at their door, he can still feel the heat from the sports festival. The memory of ten seconds stolen in secret sends a flush up the back of his neck and his ears, quite possibly almost as vivid as Hirano’s scarlet hue which reaches from his head to his toes.

“After this, I want to give you my answer,” he mutters. His mouth is turned downward in an embarrassed frown that only he ever makes. (Bless the boy, only knowing how to express two emotions)

Wait, embarrassment? Why is he embarrassed? Kagi’s heart is the one doing backflips like a trained gymnast. So why is it that when he closes the door behind him and turns the lock, he looks like he’s about to be the most vulnerable he’s ever been in his entire life? A flood of imagery of recent moments rattle against Kagi’s skull like a pinball machine as he recognizes the signs. That is to say, the exact signs that plagued himself a mere three or four months ago.

Another surging tide sends a wave of emotion crashing over his head. It rattles him from the center-most part of his being all the way to his extremities. There are no words to adequately describe the enormous pressure building from within. It’s warm and light. Are his feet even touching the ground? Moreover, is he vibrating? The urge to reach out is overwhelming. After all, he hasn’t had his ten seconds today.

Not that it would be enough.

He’s certain that if he initiated his ten seconds now, he’d never be able to let go. His hand twitches, and he digs his fingernails into the skin of his palm for grounding. The way Hirano looks down and away showcases his neck, makes Kagi grit his teeth. The monster within has been tied down with a mere shoelace - the right words could very well strip him of his sanity, replacing Kagiura Akira with what Kagi will only refer to as the devil.

There’s no way he can let that happen.

His bottom lip quivers, and he tightens the grip so hard that his fingernails break his skin. The seams holding together his three ethereal souls together are made of paper, and this monster, his desire, demolishes it into confetti with a single glance from those beautiful, ocean blue eyes.

“Look, I—”

From the moment the words, “my answer” left Hirano’s lips, Kagi knew he was fighting a losing battle. The ache in his chest that started as a dull thud months ago has grown into a piercing, concentrated stabbing sensation, and he’s ignored it for far too long.

He takes a step forward.

For too long, he’s been ignoring the aching pain clawing away at his insides. It hurts, and if he has to go a moment longer living on like this, he doesn’t know that he can withstand the storm of emotions bubbling up at the back of his throat.

He catches Hirano’s hand and spins him to face him, cups his face, and dives in head-first into the wave. It’s sink or swim, and so he clings to Hirano’s lips like a life vest. It all happens so quickly that he doesn’t think about the force with which his head dives in for the kiss. Was he too rough? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that Hirano’s thin lips taste like a cherry sports drink, and he smells like sweat and the fresh outdoors.

Kagi doesn’t know how long the kiss is. All he knows is that the ache hasn’t gone and won’t go away, but the intensity of the pain is nothing next to the thought of being without him.