Yandere! Feitan Portor General Profile
Yandere! Feitan Portor General Profile
Yandere! Feitan Portor x fem! reader
Tw: kidnapping, violence, murder, mentions of torture, mentions of Feitan carving his initial into you, mentions of masturbation, stalking, jealousy, threats, Feitan tortures a man in front of you, I stand by the (semi) soft creepy yandere Feitan agenda and I will not be swayed otherwise, this got super long I'm so sorry, I'm also delirious as I'm writing it so hopefully it makes coherent sense/is consistent, fem reader, MDNI
I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!
DARLING PROFILE:
Empathetic
In general, Feitan finds his attention drawn by a darling who is almost the complete opposite of himself.
He wants someone sweet and caring, all soft and squishy and warm. He’s never found this particularly attractive before meeting his darling, but there’s something oddly endearing about the way they’re always trying to help those around them, fruitlessly asking them to vent about their feelings, to use them as a supportive shoulder.
It makes him scoff, rolling his eyes and wondering at how impossibly naive his darling can be, but even he can’t deny how nice it is to have someone by his side, a human presence that’s steady and calm and understanding. It makes him feel good, a warm sensation bottling up in his chest and threatening to explode out, and although he’ll never really come clean with how he feels for you (at least, he never will verbally), a darling who can kind of read his rather emotionless face would be a very, very big attraction for him.
He just wants a darling who can understand him, even if his rational brain loathes the idea. An empathetic darling is sure to draw his attention, if only because he’ll be mildly revolted and intrigued by how they can be so selfless and so foolish.
Submissive
Feitan doesn’t want a feisty darling.
He doesn’t enjoy having to tame his lovers, and although he’s never really had a lover, he gravitates towards someone who is more naturally submissive and willing to follow direction.
He already feels powerless enough in the situation, frustrated that he doesn’t really have any say in how he feels. It scares him, quite honestly, if only because he doesn’t like how easily and quickly he’s jumping to conclusions where his darling is concerned, more than willing to jump through any hoop necessary in order to get what he wants, in order to make sure his darling is safe and isolated from every other man on Earth.
He likes knowing that his darling will do what he tells them to; it builds a layer of trust that makes Feitan go feral, and for every ounce of trust his darling gives him, he’ll try to return it as full heartedly as he can. He likes that he’s fully in control of his darling, and particularly if they were to be submissive in more… intimate aspects of the relationship, he’d be absolutely smitten.
He just wants his darling to revere him and believe his word as the word of God, and the moment that happens?
He’s only falling deeper into obsession, his desperation for them growing with every beat of his heart, getting harder and harder to swallow until he gives up, jumping head first into every swirling, dark, lecherous desire he harbors.
Soft
Of course, Feitan’s darling doesn’t have to have a softer body, but he can’t deny that there’s something enticing about a darling who is physically quite soft. Whether that’s rounder features, a plumper figure, or even a soft, demure voice, it all entrances Feitan.
His darling is something of a dream to him, because he’s never really believed that someone that stereotypically weak could ever really survive in this world. He likes how his darling feels, the touches he sneaks late at night when they’re sleeping sending sparks up his spine and serving as fuel for when he’s unbearably horny, his hand around his cock not nearly enough.
He’s prone to fantasizing about his darling, slipping into daydreams of his they’d feel in his lap, how they’d look with their ass up and face pressed into the mattress, how they’d feel so good wrapped around him. He just thinks it’s oddly endearing, and a darling who fits these characteristics would help initially draw his eye - he just thinks they’re pretty, a polar opposite to him, even going so far as to playing into some of his more protective traits.
Of course, he’d rather die than admit any of it, but he’s interally a bit soft for his darling - they’re just alluring in an almost primal way he can’t describe, but he can’t fight it. He can’t fight anything when it comes to his darling, as it turns out, and soon Feitan will decide that he doesn’t care.
After all, once his darling steps into his life and stays there, nothing at all matters - how can it, when he’s decided that they’re his, his woman to keep and admire and touch and fuck?
(It will take him a very, very long time to get comfortable with either of the last two options, but the desire and sentiment is still there, if the frequent raging erections he gets as a result of his darling is any indicator.)
Talkative
This trait is one of the things Feitan loves and hates most about his darling.
He enjoys listening to them talk; he himself isn’t particularly fond of conversation, nor is he particularly talkative towards his darling in general. And so, a partner who is capable of filling the silence between them sometimes is something that makes Feitan grateful, if only because hearing the sound of their voice makes his breath hitch.
And when they talk to him, all their attention aimed solely at him?
Well, how can Feitan not be flattered, not feel a bit prideful that they’re spending their time directing all their focus and thoughts around whatever small question he prompted them with? He just likes listening to his darling go on and on, even if the topic doesn’t interest him much. However, the downside of this trait is that it creates a rather ugly combination with his tendency to grow jealous.
If his darling is talkative with everyone, it’s sure to extend towards the men they meet, who just stare at them like they’re a slab of meat waiting to be devoured, all of them eager to get their hands on them and destroy what Feitan has claimed as his own. It’s infuriating, if only because it means that they’re interacting with others, putting themselves into a position where they could develop feelings for another man or be put into harm’s way or overhead something they shouldn’t have or any number of things.
It becomes a massive liability, and one that Feitan is so, so very aware of. It irritates him, and as much as he loves when his darling is chatting with him, he’s not so approving when they're with others.
And so, it’s really in his darling’s best interest to reign in the conversations with anyone else - unless they want to see their blood splattered all over the walls, hear their cries, feel Feitan’s red soaked fingers grasp onto their arms and force them to see the results of their chattiness. It’s in their best interest, and they’ll learn that soon enough. Hopefully.
GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:
Distant
There’s a part of Feitan that genuinely hates you for making him feel the way he does. The constant pounding of his heart when you’re merely mentioned, the throb in his chest when he’s gone too long without seeing you, the nervous twitch of his fingers when he thinks about what you’re doing, what other man you’re thinking about…
He hates how paranoid you’ve made him, how so much of his time and energy goes into you. It’s your fault that he’s always distracted, that he’s not able to fully focus on his work anymore because he’s only able to think of you you you. It’s frustrating, and honestly it initially wards Feitan off from getting any closer to you - he doesn’t like the way he feels around you (that’s not true, but he needs it to be), so he’ll stay away and ignore you. Maybe that’ll get you to stop smiling at him so kindly, to quit asking him how his day was, to stop looking so pretty while you hum and make yourself dinner.
As time passes, slowly this hatred diminishes (or at least dulls), instead replaced with a desperate, pathetic need to be around you; he just can’t keep himself away from you, no matter how hard he tries. It’s demoralizing, embarrassing beyond belief that someone like you could get his emotions so twisted, but it’s reality.
He tries to fight it at first, believing himself to be above such stupid human emotion – he doesn’t need you, he’s a criminal and has never needed love or anything of the sort. And yet, each and every time he tells himself to not trail behind you as you walk to the grocery store, his resolve holds out for roughly five minutes. By then, there’s unwelcome thoughts drifting through his mind about what you’re doing, whether you’re talking to anyone, if you’ve managed to trip like you always do and scrape your knee.
(There’s even a small, very small part of him that wonders whether you’re buying foods that are nutritious for you, or whether you’re doing your usual junk food spree. A thought pops up in the back of his head: him beside you in the store, scoffing as you place chips into the cart. He’d replace them with fruit, mumbling something about you being so stupid, only to see you smile at him and thank him, telling him how grateful you are to have him watching over you. His cheeks feel hot at that, and he buries his face deeper into his jacket, grumbling under his breath.)
He’ll try to stop himself from circling back to you, but each and every time he finds some excuse of why he should be watching you, of how you aren’t really capable of taking care of yourself without his watchful gaze. It’s patronizing, more than anything, but eventually he’ll stop trying to fight it, submitting entirely and allowing himself the concealed pleasure of watching your horribly mundane life.
He’ll need to be around you, constantly, but he’s still not willing to let his emotional guard down. No, you’ve done enough damage just simply existing - you absolutely cannot know how deeply he feels for you, how wrapped around your pinky finger you have him. Not only would it eliminate any semblance of leverage he holds against you (in order to stay above you, that is), it also showcases just how far the extent of his feelings for you run.
And frankly, the thought terrifies Feitan – he’s never felt so strongly for anyone before, not even in the context of hatred or pleasure at their suffering. He’s in over his head, wading through waters he's always scoffed at and dismissed, and suddenly he’s finding himself nearly drowning, head always buried just under the surface.
So he steels himself, grabbing onto any shred of control and power he can against you – he grabs on and clutches on, strong fingers frantically staying attached so that he doesn’t get blown away and truly drown. And even in the beginning of your captivity, Feitan won’t change the way he’s so detached. He’s purposefully putting distance between the two of you so that he can remain in control of the situation, in control of you, and – most importantly, and most concerningly – in control of himself.
Because frankly, Feitan doesn’t trust himself around you. He doesn’t trust the way his body just does things, how any rational thought leaves his brain the moment your eyes meet, how fingers are already lifting up a bit to reach out touch you, to brush away stray pieces of your hair when you’re within a few feet of him.
The biggest way he maintains this control is by not giving you a whole lot of attention, aside from one stark, grave exception: his dark eyes are constantly watching you. He’s always just sort of staring, his expression blank as he observes you, motionless and still. It’s unnerving, terrifying you initially and only slightly calming down as time passes, but Feitan doesn’t care much.
He doesn’t necessarily want to interact with you, but just watching you allows him to be in your space, to be beside you, to smell you and listen to your breathing. You’re kept in one large room most of the time, and he’ll often sit in the chair in the corner and just stare. He’s not talking much, not trying to touch you or hurt you, but you almost wish he would sometimes.
He just doesn’t understand what about you it is that attracts him so deeply, that’s morphed him into this lovesick fool, and while he initially tries to understand, eventually Feitan gives up, because does it really matter?
Does it really matter how he became obsessed with you when you’re locked up in his spare bedroom, duct tape covering your mouth and an expressionless, frozen Feitan watching you with his heart practically bursting out of his chest? Does it really matter if he pinpoints exactly when he developed his love for you when you’re looking at him with those pretty tears in your eyes, whispering out a thanks as he sets the tray of food down in front of you?
It really doesn’t, now that his feelings for you are formed and solidified, now that they can’t be changed or reversed. So while he’ll never be the most accessible and sympathetic to your feelings, rest assured that Feitan really does love you in some fucked up way - he’s just unorthodox, incapable of properly expressing himself to you.
But actions speak louder than words, right? He’s always thought so.
Obsessive
Because Feitan is relatively quiet and secretive when it comes to his feelings towards you, it’s difficult for you to really pick up on this aspect of him. You’re unlikely to ever truly understand just how much he feels for you, the sheer depth of emotions you cause him.
He won’t ever tell you what’s going on behind that expressionless facade of his. He doesn’t tell you how oddly adorable you are when you’re sleeping in the early mornings, curled up in the corner of your room with your eyes shut and lips slightly parted, looking so soft and sweet and weak.
He’ll never make you aware of how his breath hitches ever so slightly when you make eye contact with him, even if it’s shaky and you look away too quickly, his spine tingling because fuck, your attention feels good.
You’ll never know why his foot is tapping lightly when you’re eating in front of him, the way those annoying nerves eat away at his stomach while he subconsciously wonders if you think he looks attractive today. (He’d trimmed his hair a bit, feeling it was too long and interfering with his work - do you like it? Did you notice? He’d hesitated a bit with the scissors earlier, brows slightly furrowing, dark eyes glancing at your sleeping form.)
He’s very cryptic, and this tendency to keep you out of the loop of his personal thoughts and feelings can cast a shadow on his more obsessive tendencies. That is, before he’s stolen you away from the world, Feitan did an extensive amount of research into you. He does nothing on a whim - he’s a calculating man, and once he’d finally come to terms with the fact that his feelings for you weren’t going to disappear, he was scouring every resource possible to garner your information.
He’s got access to all kinds of personal knowledge about you - your search history, for example. It’s a bit unexpected, if Feitan’s being honest - you’re much darker than he’d expected, the things you read about making him quirk a brow, his interest in you only deepening because hmm, seems the little sheep may be a bit of a wolf inside.
He’s getting Shalnark to hack into the camera of your phone and computer, the stream of footage easy to access as he cleans his tools, blood washing away as you smile and laugh at some comedy you’re watching.
It’s stupid and at first he pretends to find your laugh annoying. But then he sees the way your cheeks get all full and round as you smile, your eyes crinkling up, even the way you wheeze slightly when it’s really funny.
(Briefly, he wonders whether you’d find his dry sense of humor entertaining.)
He’s got photographs of you from his time spent trailing you, and though they’re a bit blurry and not as focused as he’d like, they’re still something nice to pin to his wall, keeping his favorites beside his bed. He’s never had trouble sleeping, but something about looking at you as he drifts into slumber makes him rest more soundly, wake up more refreshed.
Once you’ve been trapped with him for long enough, however, Feitan’s front of careful indifference to you will slowly begin cracking. You’ll never see fully through him, but you’ll catch the way the corners of his lips twitch up ever so slightly when you snuggle into the blanket he gives you one day, noticing how you’ve been shivering incessantly at night.
(He won’t tell you the blanket was freshly stolen, that he’d made sure to take one with the softest, thickest material he could find, and even in your favorite color. It’s just a coincidence, so don’t read into it.)
You’ll realize he’s slowly inched closer to you the longer you watch the television program Feitan turned on earlier, your spot on the couch feeling smaller and smaller as Feitan’s hip eventually brushes yours, neither of you acknowledging what’s happening.
(You’ll never know how badly he wants to reach out and touch you, to freely run his hand up and down your thigh, so trace your collarbones, to feel just how soft your body is.)
It all makes him feel weak, pathetic, disgusting, but Feitan can’t help it. There’s something magnetic about you, and he can’t pull himself away. His pride won’t allow him to fully succumb to the thoughts and desires about you that are constantly swirling through his mind, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there, that they aren’t bothering him constantly. He’s secretive, and maybe it’s for the best that you don’t know how many nights he’s spent with his fingers wrapped around his cock, his pale cheeks rosy as he imagines the way you’d like tied up with hickeys he made spanning the insides of your thighs.
Perhaps it’s best that you don’t know how often he’s (begrudgingly) held the extra pillow on his bed close to his chest, dark eyes staring up at the ceiling as he tightens his arms around it.
(No, he wasn’t imagining it was you – he’s a touch starved man, and everyone has urges, right? It’s just coincidence that the pillow casing is one he stole from you, that he never washes it because it smells like you, that he nearly loses his mind when he almost gets a drop of blood from a victim on it.)
It makes it much easier to scare you into what he wants when you don’t know - you’re much more complainant this way, malleable, willing, and Feitan likes it that way. Sure, having you fall in love would be ideal, getting your obedience through a genuine desire to please him, but at least this way he can keep a piece of his pride intact.
This way, you’ll never realize the power you have over him - how he’d be willing to wipe out entire towns for you if you so much as mention it. You’ll never understand just how he needs to have you - to have you for what, you don’t know, but you can sense the odd sort of desperation coming off of him.
You can feel it in the way his fingers grip you just a bit too tight, the way his eyes linger on you just a tad too long, the way the smallest, most embarrassing little whimper falls from his lips when your hand touches his.
He’s good at hiding it, but everyone makes mistakes - just don’t pry too hard, because Feitan still needs to be the one in control, and you’ll quickly find yourself learning much, much more about the short man than you’ve ever wanted to know. Namely, that the only thing worse than him staring at you is him ignoring you.
Protective
Although, it will take you a very long time to see this side of him. Initially, Feitan’s feelings towards you are that of mild interest, mild disgust, and mild indifference.
Mild interest because he had, of course, noticed that you were pretty, what with your soft lips and doe eyes, your figure and the lilt of your voice. Indifference, because Fietan was sure there were a thousand other people just like you on Earth. And disgust, because you were so visibly weak and unable to fend for yourself, like an animal waiting to be slaughtered.
And yet, the more time he spends around you (maybe a long job has him centered in the same city for a few weeks, and you work at the little store he gets his meals from, or some other service job that brings you in contact regularly), the more complex these feelings become. His interest becomes peaked because you’re not just pretty, but also entertaining to talk to, handling his dry jabs well and even daring to throw back some jokes of your own. (He never laughed, of course, but a wry smile sat underneath his jacket.)
He’s still a bit indifferent, but not when you’re helping other customers or smiling down at your phone. (Were you texting someone? Your fingers were moving, implying typing – what were they saying that was making you giggle like that? What could he say that would make you giggle? Why does he care?)
But the starkest, quickest change of heart that Fietan experiences in how he feels about your strength and abilities. Of course, you are weak. Even if you can use nen, even if you know the basics of self defense – Feitan is sure that he could kill you in the blink of an eye, cleanly, easily. (He’s sure because he’s thought of doing it before – never seriously, just a fleeting thought, something that only briefly passed through his mind when he was still resistant to his attraction towards you – it was promptly expelled after that familiar sinking, uncomfortable feeling started up in his gut, but still.)
You’re embarrassingly weak, really, and as much as he tries to make himself ignore it or to simply stop caring about it, he can’t get it out of his head. He can’t seem to stop imagining you getting hurt, doing something stupid or careless and tarnishing that pretty skin of yours.
He can’t seem to stop imagining the way you’d take a corner too fast and slip on your own feet, tumbling to the ground and ending up with a sprained ankle or a scrape across your knee.
He’ll be sharpening a blade, blood stains caked onto the metal, and suddenly a flash of what your blood would look like staining the material makes him freeze for a moment, black eyes just a tad bit wider, the muscles in his arms and legs taut because there’s something sickening about the thought, something malicious and just carnally wrong.
He can’t help but imagine how you’d fare against someone like his coworkers, whose strength is difficult to handle even for an experienced nen user. How would someone like you fare against someone like Uvogin? Someone like Shizuku? Hell, even someone like Kortopi?
(Upon first meeting Hisoka, a very sudden and very intrusive image of the clown slicing a card clean through your throat flashed through his mind, and he’d nearly reached forward and ripped out the taller man’s heart at the thought, a purely instinctual response that left him more shell-shocked than he’d care to admit.)
He knows you wouldn’t stand a chance, and while he doesn’t want it to bother him, it does. It does, as much as he tries to forget the mental images or assure himself that you deserve getting injured for being so weak and helpless. But he can’t just sit still and let it pass by, if it were to ever happen - and so, Feitan’s protective tendencies begin manifesting.
They’re small, for the most part; making sure to keep his torture tools as far away from you as possible, just so that there’s no chance of you accidentally tripping or running into one or being stupid and getting any ideas.
He’s making sure that you’re under his watch as often as possible, becoming your second shadow and stalking you every free moment he can spare, just in case someone unsavory crosses your path.
He’s making sure that all your locks are working every night, compulsively checking them even though he knows they’re still good.
He keeps his protective tendencies under wraps, making sure that they’re subtle and just ambiguous enough that you won’t pick up on his intentions. Because while there’s something appealing about you knowing that he wants you to be safe, he would rather you not find out just how extensively he watches you, just how much he cares about your wellbeing, deciding that it’s yet another potential opportunity for you to manipulate him.
And of course, he’s embarrassed - he briefly considers requesting help watching you from a Troupe member or two, only for when he’s aware for long periods of times on individual jobs, but eventually he chickens out, too scared to have to explain why he wants Pakunoda to keep an eye on you.
He’s not embarrassed of you, per se, but rather the extent to which you affect him. And even once he’s stolen you away (an action which has roots in his paranoia for your safety), those protective tendencies are still firmly in place. He’s not a good cook, but he still tries to provide you with somewhat healthy foods, even if they’re undercooked and limp, bland and just overall unappealing.
He’s by no means an interior designer, but he’s getting you a somewhat soft, thick blanket, making sure the one pillow you have isn’t covered in stains or lumpy. It’s all subtle, nearly unnoticeable things that you’d have to be very perceptive to catch onto - but to Feitan it’s all important, because while he may still resent you for turning him into a lovesick fool, he’ll be damned if he lets you starve or be uncomfortable.
It’s stupid and he knows it, grumbling to himself the entire time he’s doing something to prevent hurting you, but it’ll always get done - and if you were to ever notice it, to thank him? Feitan would deny your allegations, telling you to shut up and eat your food, all the while the tips of his ears turn pink and his heart flutters because you noticed.
You noticed the way he takes extra precautions for you, the way he thinks of you and your wellbeing, even having the gall to thank him for it…
Don’t bring it up again or he’ll grow angry, but the pride sitting in his chest at your words is enough for him. It’s enough for him to know you see him, that you’re paying attention to him, that you appreciate all he does for you - it’s enough for now, at least.
DEALING WITH RIVALS:
Feitan is, unfortunately, a bit prone to jealousy – as someone who is aware that he isn’t the best option out there for you, the acknowledgement that there is a multitude of other men that deserve you more and could likely land you never fails to get past him.
He’s so, so aware of the fact that you likely don’t like him, that stalking you and planning to kidnap you likely doesn’t earn him any favors. He knows he’s fairly quiet, and while it’s mostly a fear of mildly embarrassing himself that bars him from actually interacting with you, it only pushes Feitan to worry that you only see him as a strange, unfamiliar man.
It’s likely that you think of him as nothing more than an acquaintance, a man who doesn’t seem to want anything to do with you. And so, the minute that another person tries to flirt with you, to look at you and think of you and speak with you, the insecurities over how you perceive him are blooming in his chest, growing and blossoming into full blown panic, because what if you fall for another man?
Of course, Feitan has absolutely no problem eliminating the threat, even enjoying taking the life of such a worthless man, but he can’t help the way fear grips his heart, cold and stabbing and brutal, because while he may be icy and difficult to approach, a stone face that leaves little emotion o be seen, Feitan wants you so fucking badly, to the point that it genuinely hurts.
And while he isn’t all that soft towards the beginning of his obsession (and really, even once you’ve been ‘living’ with him for a while as well), he does honestly want for you to return the feelings, to love him and care for him, to want to be with him and enjoy your new life by his side. Ideally, he wants you to fall for him, to see him and smile, to have your soft skin pressed against his rougher, more callused skin, your hands cupped in a firm embrace, a soft hug, a kiss against the lips and short, whispered words of trust and acceptance.
Of course, it’s makes him feel so damn pathetic each time he gets caught in a daydream where you’re smiling and laughing with him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and telling him he’s handsome, but try as he may, he just can’t allow another man to steal the opportunity to make you theirs.
He wants to be the only one in your life, the only man you see and think of and talk to, and quite honestly Feitan will succeed – his profession is death after all, and he’s a master at stalking his prey, locating their weaknesses, seamlessly killing and annihilating his target before they even have a chance to fight back.
And so, once his jealousy is triggered, the poor man’s fate has already been decided. Feitan’s never been particularly merciful, and where you’re concerned, this trait only grows - it feels good to kill whoever dared to speak with you, like some sort of cathartic release of all the emotions he’s been bottling up, all the anger and desperation and self-loathing and yearning trapped in his chest.
It feels good, euphoric in a way he can’t describe, and so he’s quick to jump on any man posing a potential threat to your status as single and ripe for Feitan to claim. He’s a trained killer, after all, and who is he to waste away a perfectly good target?
When the man in the black dress shirt approaches you in the grocery store, Feitan’s eyes narrow. The shorter man had been trailing you all day, watching you go about your weekly errands, and the tri-annual trip to the grocery store had been your last stop. You’d managed to evade any male attention today, a fact that had Feitan simultaneously sighing in relief and growling in anger.
And yet, here you are, dressed in a rather provocative set of leggings that have Feitan’s eyes absolutely glued to your supple ass, matched with a slouchy, oversized sweatshirt. You’re cute, he begrudgingly admits, and it seems the stranger agrees.
Feitan’s standing in the next aisle over, staring through the holes in the shelving to see the way you tap your chin and scan the aisles of bread, searching for the perfect loaf. You don’t seem to have noticed the man slowly walking up to you, his eyes visibly scanning up and down your body. Feitan scowls, black brows drawing tightly together as he debates what to do.
On the one hand, there’s not much he can do - you’re in a public grocery store, and he doesn’t particularly want you to notice his presence. And yet, he can’t just let this man approach you, speak to you, look at you, now can he? He grits his teeth, steeling himself to just watch for now, and jump in if the time is right, if he feels the man goes too far. The man clears his throat, making you jump and look over at him, the suave smile he sends you making your own smile falter a bit.
Which bread’s best? He’s asking you, and you answer quickly, naming your favorite brand and which style you like best - Feitan’s scowl only deepens when he realizes you’re telling him the truth.
The man nods along, before his smirk turns smarmy, one eyebrow cocked up as he asks which rolls are best then? I’m thinking they’re yours.
You blanch at that, disgust written across your face as you awkwardly laugh and inch away, but Feitan sees none of that - how can he, when he’s already moving, already grabbing the man by the neck and sprinting down the aisle and around the corner, all too fast for you to see with the naked eye?
You’re confused, unsure of how the man just suddenly disappeared, but his comment left you shellshocked and lost at what to do, so you quickly grab a random loaf and anxiously push your cart away, trying to put distance between you and wherever the man had ended up.
Meanwhile, Feitan’s got the man held against the back wall of the grocery store, fingers wrapped around his neck and a cold, menacing look in his eye.
Bastard, he grits out, tightening his grip and feeling the way the man panics and scratches at his fingers, trying to rip them away.
Disgusting, she is mine, didn’t your mother teach don’t touch what’s not yours? Feitan’s shocked he hasn’t just slaughtered the man yet, but there’s something in his heart telling him to prolong this out, to let the man suffer, to make this as slow and torturous as possible. He wants the man to bleed, to scream and sob and beg for his mercy, for being stupid enough to even try to seduce you.
Feitan’s angry enough that his breathing is uneven, his muscles occasionally flexing without his permission, the rage simmering in his veins nearly potent. He can’t stop replaying the sight of your disgusted and uncomfortable look, the fact that this scum caused you to feel such an emotion making his skin feel hot, his fingers eager to steal the man’s life.
He smiles as the man wheezes, the lack of oxygen making his face slowly take on a purple hue. What’s wrong? Can’t breath?
He squeezes once, harshly, roughly, and the man splutters, spit dribbling down his chin and getting onto Feitan’s wrist. He scoffs. Filthy, disgusting. Die.
And then the man is being stabbed with his sword, not once, not twice, but again and again and again, until holes and wounds decorate the planes of his chest, blood flowing down in rivers onto the dirty concrete floor.
The man is dead within a matter of seconds, but it’s not enough for Feitan. He’s quick to throw the body to the ground, kicking and stomping and mutilating the body until its unrecognizable. He’s still breathing hard, his fingers shaking, and he finishes it off with a spit at what was once the man’s face, a scowl thrown his way.
Pathetic, he says, dark eyes closing for a few moments as he looks to sense your familiar presence, already on your walk back towards your apartment. Feitan gives one last, firm kick, before taking off, the urge to have his eyes on you once more making him rush even quicker than normal. He’ll spend the rest of the evening watching you, like always, but this time he’ll pay more attention to your face.
You’ve never looked at him the way you looked at that man, all scared and revolted.
You’ve never tried to get away from Feitan, never ran or panicked or anything of the sort. Pride swells in his chest at the knowledge that you like the dark haired man more than that mangled corpse; you’d choose Fietan over him, he’s sure.
And as you slip under your covers, a soft look on your face as you drift to sleep, Feitan can’t help but slide open the window, slipping into the bedroom and coming up to stand beside your unconscious form.
Would you choose him over other men?
If given the choice, would you want him?
He’d always choose you, his heart always coming back to you no matter what he does or how he hates it - and one day, he’s hopeful you’ll feel the same. One day, you’ll be just as stupidly, pathetically, frantically in love as he is.
He sighs, the corner of his mouth twitching up. Someday, you’ll be all his.
TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:
It takes Feitan a long time to resort to kidnapping you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but rather that it’s never been a priority for him. He’s reclusive, and because it takes him so long to sort out his feelings for you, stealing you away was certainly not at the forefront of his mind.
It takes him so long to even admit to himself that he cares for you, and that process alone takes anywhere from a month to three months, and only then does the stalking begin. Only then is he allowing the feelings for really grow, to fester and brew in his chest until he’s insatiable, desperate to see you and be in your presence. It takes him so long to warm up to you that he just simply doesn’t have the time or forethought to consider taking you for himself - that is, until his protective tendencies begin coming into play. Once he starts actively caring about your safety and wellbeing, little thoughts begin springing up in the back of his mind. He’s chastising you mentally for staying up late, the hands on the clock moving past hours he’s comfortable with.
He doesn’t like when you lay in your bed scrolling through that damn phone of yours, the bright light bad for your eyes and making you delay sleeping for as long as possible. It makes him angry (if not hypocritical, seeing as he himself only gets roughly four hours of sleep per night), and before he can even stop himself he’s thinking of how he’d make you fall asleep if he was with you, prying that phone out of your hands and telling you to sleep now.
He doesn’t like when you walk home alone at night, as if you’re practically asking to be mugged or assaulted or killed, which is why he has to follow you, begrudgingly hiding in the shadows and trailing you as you meander back to your apartment.
You’re stupid, is what you are, and as time passes, Feitan becomes more and more shocked at how lightly you take your own life - how can one single person be so careless? How can you be willing to eat food so close to the expiration date, or look both ways at the sidewalk just once? You’re helpless, truly, and it pisses Feitan off.
It makes him mad, if only because he’s trying so much harder than you are to keep you safe, and isn’t it unfair to him? Isn’t it awfully inconsiderate of you to make him spend so much time looking after you, doing everything for you because you’re so damn incapable? It’s a negative view and Feitan doesn’t really blame you, only convincing himself he does in order to make him feel better. It’s an excuse to help him feel like he isn’t as attached as he really is, a way to help alleviate some of the embarrassment he has regarding his feelings for you.
It’s pathetic, he thinks, but then something happens - something bad, something Fietan had hoped never would. Somehow, an enemy of the Troupe had discovered you. Maybe he was too preoccupied by keeping his eyes on you that he missed the stranger’s presence, unknowingly leading them directly to you.
Sweet, weak, defenseless you.
Time is frozen for Feitan as he returns from Troupe work, slinking to your apartment and letting himself in the front door, knowing that although it’s horribly late, you’re surely freshly asleep - except, the door is already ajar, and Feitan feels his blood run cold. There’s someone here. It doesn’t matter if they’re a friend or enemy to you - why the fuck is there another person in your home at such an ungodly hour?
The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and for a moment Feitan feels pure, absolute panic - you’re incapable of warding someone off, especially if you’re asleep, and although he feel sense your presence, there’s a distinct aura coming from your bedroom that isn’t yours. He’s quick to rush in, dark eyes narrowing when he sees the figure over your bed, a man hunched over and about to touch you -
His sword is slicing through the man’s neck before he can even blink, head dropping to the ground with a dull thud and blood pooling where it lands. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, brows pinched together and his grip on the sword hilt tight.
His gaze flicks to where you’re still sleeping peacefully, utterly unaware of the man standing beside your bed and the lifeless corpse bleeding out onto your floor. He’s got no choice, really - there’s something ugly stirring in his chest, something big and bad and painful, and he’s reaching out and scooping you into his arms all too quickly.
The man surely was after Feitan - he’d looked at him with recognition, and Feitan can only swallow and tighten his grip on you ever so tightly, hopping out your window and taking off into the night, the makeshift home he’d been residing in lately eventually coming upon the horizon.
The whole event spurs Feitan to believe that relocation is really the best option - his enemies are aware of you now, and who’s to say more won’t come knocking? How does he know you won’t be targeted again, those with vendettas against the Troupe knowing that someone weak and such an Achilles Heel like you would be the perfect revenge?
He doesn’t, and so although he’s grimacing and slightly worried to have you under the same roof, he sets you down on the hard mattress, giving you a few glances before closing the door, sighing to himself and hoping you wake up soon.
Feitan, once you’ve been stolen away, is mostly just an enigma to you.
He’s so painfully unexpressive, so difficult to interact with that you’ll be left to wonder just why he stole you away, why he even bothered to take you when he seems so utterly disinterested in you. He doesn’t talk to you - outside of a few clipped, short commands, he’ll hardly ever let you hear his voice.
Particularly in the beginning of your captivity, he would listen to your crying and begging to be released silently, his eyes slightly narrowed before a small, curt stop filled the room.
He’s never given you any sort of an explanation for why you woke up in his home one day, even when you ask him over and over again. He’ll only look at you, dark eyes fixed on your face, before telling you to go to sleep, you need sleep and promptly shutting and locking the bedroom door. He’s entirely unwilling to really interact with you in any meaningful way - except, it’s not because he hates you, or because he’s simply biding his time to kill you.
You may think that, fear swimming through your veins every time you see him, but it couldn’t be further from the truth - he’s not interacting with you much because there’s a part of Feitan that’s honestly afraid to. It makes him feel stupid and pitiful, but every time he tries to ask you a question or tell you something, the words just sort of die in his throat, his tongue frozen in his mouth even as he tries to move, tries to interact and get you to just look at him, dammit.
Honestly, he’s embarrassed to speak to you - he’s been watching you for so long, acting as your shadow and seeing you so natural and perfect and raw, and he’s grown used to having a front row seat without having to do anything. He’s not used to you being able to see him or hear him or even know he’s there at all. It’s scary to have you be aware of him, placing him in an uncomfortable position where he can no longer simply watch you or long for you from afar - no, now, as much as he hates to admit it, he cares about your opinion.
He cares about how you view him, how you perceive him, what you think about him. He wants you to think he’s funny when he tells cutting jokes, and generous when he gives you bowls of semi-cold soup. He wants you to find him attractive, catching your eyes settling on his body or your fingers running through his ebony locks.
He wants your opinion to be favorable, but despite how strong this desire is, the fear that you’ll find him weird outweighs it. He knows it’s stupid, but he’s terrified that you’ll think he’s strange, a freak, some sort of monster if he talks with you. He’s scared he’ll say something wrong, something to scare you or offend you, and while he may be a mass murderer and an atrocious man, there’s something about the way your eyes would get all glassy and teary, face contorting into disgust as you physically recoil from him that makes his gut wrench, a small frown tugging at the corner of his lips.
He’s too awkward and nervous to speak with you - and so, he resorts instead to the staring, to the watching, to the observing. It’s what he knows best, after all, considering that was how most of his time was spent before kidnapping you. This is better; he has control in this situation, and he won’t accidentally slip and say something that bears too much truth, that lets you in on too much of what’s going on in his head.
There’s less room for error if he relegates himself to minimal verbal and physical interaction, and while he aches to reach out and touch you, to feel the softness of your cheeks or the texture of your hair, he’s restraining himself. Just the mere thought of your skin against his gets him shivering, but it’s quite easy to overwhelm him; he’s not used to being the recipient of your attention, and while it feels good to have you looking at him and attempting to start conversations, it can get to be too much for him very quickly.
It’s easy enough to answer trivial questions; things like what the food is that he placed in front of you (doesn’t matter, it’s good is all he’ll answer with) or inquiries into why he wears that same massive coat all the time (warm and my favorite color).
Those are easy enough, not breaching too close to anything personal or anything that you could use against him. But the more complex questions, or - once the Stockholm Syndrome eventually kicks in and you’re so lonely you’ll happily converse with your kidnapper - compliments?
As soon as the words slip from your lips, a simple your eyes are pretty or a I hope you sleep well makes him stiffen up a bit, lips parting ever so slightly under that cowl of his, before he’s quickly darting out the door and slamming it shut behind him. He has to take a few moments to collect himself, his ears and cheeks feeling hot because god, you were looking right at him, and you’d even said his name.
(He spends the rest of the night in the basement, compulsively cleaning and recleaning his torture tools over and over, trying to distract himself from replaying your compliments over and over in his head, ingraining the sound of your voice and the tingling warmth he felt into his brain. Everything is sparkling clean by the time he’s done, a few hours having passed, and yet he’s spent the whole time thinking of you, letting you plague his thoughts like you always do.)
He just can’t handle having all of your attention on him like that, and although he gets better at it and more used to it as time goes on, he’ll still be very skittish. He’s like a feral cat; he’ll stalk and watch, staring at you with beady eyes from the corner of the room while you try and act natural, only to scamper away when you try to reach out and pet.
You’ll be starved for human contact as his captee, but aside from the lack of any sort of touch, you’ll find that being stuck with him is actually not too bad - he feeds you a decent diet, and lets you live in the spare bedroom of his home. He’d even cleaned everything up before you arrived, a preemptive measure he underwent one night when he couldn’t sleep, both his dreams and thoughts revolving around you.
(There’s still bits of dust and a spider or two in the corner of the ceiling, but everything smells not terribly musty, and you don’t notice any mysterious stains on the sheets, so it could be worse, right?)
He leaves you to your own devices more often than not, just on the condition that he can be present, whether you’re reading a book or sleeping or doodling with some art supplies he stole for you a while back. He’s not too demanding, but eventually the Stockholm Syndrome will get to you - you will eventually start wishing he’d do more than just look, even when he comes home with blood speckling his jacket.
You’ll grow to wish he would sit just a bit closer to you, so that you could feel his body warmth or a brush of his skin against your own. You’ll hate yourself for endearing your captor, but you don’t have much of a choice - Feitan, while terrifying and absolutely capable of killing you in more ways than you can count, is strangely sweet in his own way, even if it takes you a while to notice it.
He’s not buying you flowers or declaring his undying love to you, but he is leaving small, insignificant gifts on your nightstand, maybe a small pastry that you love, or even a small, pretty little jewel he managed to snatch away from the goods Chrollo said were communal among the Troupe from the latest heist. He won’t ever say anything about them, and if you bring it up to him he’ll either ignore you or deny their existence, but he likes leaving them there as a token, as some way of quelling the intense desire to please you that wells in his chest.
It’s the only route he can allow himself to take, because that way he doesn’t have to confront you, only looking at your sleeping face. You always look so peaceful and pretty this way, all the lines of stress and worry smoothing away - you look how you used to, before he stole you away, back when his infatuation first started.
And as he gently, carefully, hesitantly sits down beside your sleeping form on the mattress, he can’t help but gulp harshly and slowly, ever so slowly, reach out and rest his palm on your leg, the sheets separating your skin. He’ll keep his hand there for a while, dark eyes appraising your form under the covers, before exhaling shakily and standing back up, making sure the jade he’d brought back for you was securely on the bedside table, right in your view when you wake up. He’s not a bad captor by any means; he just has trouble expressing himself, walls built up too highly and too thickly to ever really knock them down.
And you’ll get close - as close as you can, at least, as time passes. Feitan will eventually warm up to you, but he’ll never be particularly loving, particularly obvious with his feelings for you - he’ll always be a lovesick fool, but he’ll be damned if he lets another soul know that.
PUNISHMENTS:
As a general rule, Feitan doesn’t particularly like hurting you. Of course, his career rides on his ability to harm, torture, mutilate and extract information out of even the worst criminals and agents, and for the most part he enjoys it.
There’s something about the way he can elicit screams and tears out of others that gets him giddy, the smile stretching across the part of his face covered by his jacket as wide as can be. And yet, for all the enjoyment he derives out of hurting others, seeing you harmed, bruised, crying and begging isn’t nearly as fun as Feitan had expected.
He’s not really sure why, but for some reason seeing you looking at him with so much fear dancing in your pretty eyes makes his gut wrench, an uncomfortable feeling sitting at the base of his throat while he mutters something demanding you to stop looking at him like that. It makes him feel weak, frankly, that you have this effect on him, but he can’t help it – early on into your captivity with him, he tried to settle your disobedience by physically harming you, but he got as far as leaving a rather large carved ‘F’ right over your heart before your crying got to him.
He couldn’t lift his hand as you sobbed below him that day, your wrists bound by leather cording stained with his previous victims’ blood. Your eyes were puffy and glassy, snot dripping from your nose and pathetic little cries and begs for him to stop tumbling past your quivering lips.
Frankly, Feitan was embarrassed for you. But more than anything, he was pissed – his hands were trembling, the switch knife grasped between his fingers frozen, his dark eyes wide as they stared down at you, guilt flashing through them the longer you sniffled and shook, the sight of you in pain with your pretty red blood dribbling down your collarbone simply too much.
That day, he cleaned your wound, packed up his torture gear and locked you into your designated bedroom, all without a single word, mostly because his tongue didn’t seem to be working. But the shaky gasps stumbling from his lips as he stared at his own two hands later that night were enough to make him realize he hates to see you in pain, particularly when he’s the cause.
It’s confusing, irritating, scary, even, that you have this effect on him, but try as he might, any thought of physically harming you from that point on makes his stomach twist, bile rising up his throat and nausea hitting him square in the chest.
But trouble, of course, arises; he refuses to physically harm you in most cases, but he still will only tolerate absolute obedience from you. You can’t simply walk all over him, he won’t let you – you need to listen to his instructions, follow his rules, eat the food he gives you, smile at him all pretty and warm, and let him sneak into your room and hold you when you’re fast asleep in the middle of the night, just as he starts craving.
Feitan needs you to be obedient and submissive to him, and so how can he mold you into the perfect, obedient partner without laying harm to you?
The solution, as it turns out, lies in making you absolutely believe that he will hurt you, despite it not being true.
You don’t need to know that the thought of making you wince or scrunch up your face in pain makes him physically hurl; no, you’re much better off thinking that he’s simply playing nice, waiting for the right moment to strike and leave you broken and bleeding. He’ll allow you to believe that he’s constantly ready to punish you, because then you’ll have some incentive to follow his words and rules, and to do what he believes you should do.
And why wouldn’t you believe it?
You know what Feitan does – he makes no effort to hide the torture tools scattered across his basement, and while you’ve only been down there once (the initial carving of the F), your imagination can conjure up plenty of scenarios of what goes on in that damp, dark basement.
The fact that he has hurt you leads to you staying mostly in line – you’re more than aware of what he’s capable of, and although it slightly pains Feitan that you think of him as a monster, it’s for the best. It’s better for everyone when you’re well behaved – when you simply follow his orders and do what he wants you to, no matter how strange it makes you feel.
You probably aren’t particularly fond of eating in front of him, but he’ll be sitting at the other end of the table as you carefully, hesitantly, twist the strands of pasta around your fork, your gaze flickering from the slightly undercooked noodles to your captor and back again.
You probably don’t really like sleeping while he sits in the corner of the room, that stupid jacket pulled up over his mouth, making the only part of him visible to your drowsy self those damn eyes – and his hands, of course, with just the slightest touch of dried blood under his nails. You’re probably not particularly a fan of any aspect of being his captive – and Feitan carefully controls this.
However, on the off chance that you do act up, that liquid courage flows through your veins and you cross him, you’ll quickly grow to regret it. Feitan still won’t hurt you – not physically, at least.
But others?
Well, it’s not hard to get Chrollo to give him someone who needs to give up some information, to set up the basement and make sure you get a front row seat as he makes the knots tight around the man’s wrist. It hurts him, really, to see the way your face contorts into horror as you watch him break bone after bone in the man’s body, but Feitan can’t stop looking at you. He needs you to be watching – you have to see what he’s capable of, even if he doesn’t really want you to know.
You have to know that he’s serious when he tells you that you can’t leave, that there’s nowhere in the world you can run to where he won’t find you. He rips the man’s nails off, a finger at a time, just to make sure you understand that his touch can hurt – but maybe, some part of him hopes, you’ll realize that when he touches you, his touch is only ever gentle. Or at least as gentle as he can be.
It’s all to make sure you understand that he’s utterly, absolutely in charge – his word is law, and while he craves for you to love him, he’s willing to compromise with just your respect and undivided attention.
It’s not ideal, but as he watches the way tears stream down your cheeks and your body heaves and shudders with your sobs, he can’t help but slice the knife into the man’s thigh deeper, send the punch to his jaw harder.
He has to keep you in line – this complicated, doomed relationship he’s forced you into is the only thing that makes him feel that strange, fluttering feeling in his chest, and he’ll be damned if he lets it go. He’ll be damned if he lets you go – even if you think of him as a monstrous, sadistic freak.
Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t; it doesn’t matter, because you’re never getting away.
OVERALL DANGER:
8/10
The danger that lies with being Feitan’s darling is much more mental than physical. By all means, he’s not the ideal captor – he’s a criminal and mass murderer, torturing people for a living and liking it. And yet, there’s something about you that tones down the more deranged, violent aspects of his personality - he’s by no means soft, but he’s rounder at the edges, less rough and bitter and cold.
He hates himself for falling in love with you, for having allowed you to worm your way into his heart and settle there, plaguing his every thought and dream with your face, your voice and laugh and smile and god, your body -
He blames you, initially, but as time goes on and his feelings only grow stronger, harder to suppress, he finds that it doesn’t matter. You’ve already staked your claim on his heart, and there’s simply nothing he can do to stop what’s inevitable.
Kidnapping is imminent with him, but it really does take him a long while to actually go through with it; you’ll have a long period of freedom from his clutches where you’re living your own life, with him only controlling it from the shadows rather than blatantly, like when he’s stolen you away. He’s not particularly needy, only demanding that you stay in his line of sight, but there’s something more terrifying about the way he’s always watching you like a hawk watches its prey than simple touching would be.
You’re thankful he hasn’t forced himself on you or even forced any kind of affection, but it doesn’t make up for the fact that you miss human touch, that you almost wish he would reach out and hold your hand, press a kiss to your lips, slip the ratty old t-shirt he’d given you over your chest.
You’ll find yourself growing stir crazy under Feitan’s rule, growing desperate but still too scared to confront him, because his intentions with you will remain ambiguous at best - he hasn’t killed you yet, so you must be important to him somehow. You’re not sure, but the longer you spend with him, the less you’ll care until eventually you’re actively dreaming of the day when he finally, finally touches you with those cold fingers and lets you out of that bedroom you’re locked up in.
Feitan loves you, in his own sick, twisted way, and the sooner you realize that the better - maybe you never will, but Feitan will always, always be there waiting, his gaze never faltering once from your figure.
You’re just too mesmerizing, after all - and Feitan’s never been particularly good at denying himself what’s his.
More Posts from Pandora-n1ghts and Others
⌕. WIND BREAKER
⟳. “ DID I IMPRESS YOU? ”
how would the wbk boys impress you to catch your attention or they want you to praise them?
character/s : sakura haruka , suo hayato , togame jo , kaji ren , umemiya hajime , kiryu mitsuki .
warning/s : suo’s part is like 50/50 so uhm !! you can decide if it’s part of it or not ! , ooc characters ( im sorry sighs )
word count : 100+ each
note : i have motivation to write so might as well make the best of it !! i’m also planning to make suo’s part a separate fic uhm..
sakura haruka — 119 words
i don't know but i think sakura would try to impress you by showing how he’s good at fighting but when you praise him for that or he got your attention because of that he gets flustered easily and tries to brush it off saying he’s not doing it to impress you when it’s clearly written on his face.
you can only laugh when he says that you’ll probably won't even believe anything he says and just look at his face to see if he meant it or not.
“ where have you been all these years my knight in shining armor? ” you teased him, your hands clasped together in return he looked away with a blush on his face.
suo hayato — 165 words
bro doesn't even need to impress you because you’re already impressed by him !! he’s a gentleman everyone knows and that’s also how you're already impressed because why is he so gentle? so whenever you two are together people will mistake that you and suo are dating because of how considerate suo whenever he’s with you.
you’ll never even catch him irritated whenever you let him carry your school bag or the things you bought, he’s just there following you with a smile on his face.
“ why are you doing this every time we are together? ” you asked as you take a spoonful of ice cream in your cup and eat it. “ i’m close to falling for you, you know. ” you said half jokingly when he chuckled as he wiped the ice cream from the side of your mouth. “ i’ll wait for the day you fall for me. ” he replied making you speechless and a blushing mess as you just continue to eat your ice cream.
togame jo — 118 words
did a bit of research and seems like he plays go and shogi so uh he would probably invite you to watch him play with shogi with someone.
he knew he would win it and obviously you are in awe saying how good he was at shogi so you invite him to play with you after he plays a couple of rounds. you weren't good at playing shogi but you wanna test out your skills.
he beat you once or twice then after that then lets you win every round. “ wow, togame i didn't know i’m the only one who can beat you! ” you quip making him chuckle as he nodded. ” guess you're too good at this game. ”
kaji ren — 166 words
you heard that the music playing in his headphones are something that can damage his eardrums but it seems like his ears don't even hurt so you would let him try one of your favorite music to see if he likes it.
when you two were taking a walk around the town, you were rambling about your favorite band and how cool and good their music are. kaji didn't let that slip in his mind and listened to their music when he got home.
the next day, you suggested one of their songs and his response was he had listen to it and taking a liking to the song and it was now on his playlist. your eyes widen and smiled. “ really? its a good music isn’t? you got a good taste in music! ” you praise as you pat his back as if he’s choking on something. it just made you more even happy that he has one of your very favorite song in his playlist.
umemiya hajime — 195 words
you helped him plant some seeds in the rooftop since you don’t have anything to do and everybody knows that umemiya is a man that cares for everyone. let’s imagine umemiya has like one of those portable stove hidden in the rooftop 😭😭 so you were flabbergasted when you just saw him casually take out a portable stove. he remembers that he doesn't have enough ingredients to cook something so he apologizes for that and quickly run into kotoha’s cafè to get a few ingredients. when he got the ingredients you just watched him.
you watch the white haired man cook something in front of you — you didn't even know he has the skills to cook! clearly you’re impressed since you can’t cook to save your life. ( if you would even cook it’s burnt. ) he probably learned it with kotoha. when he finished cooking he gave you a portion of food he had cooked for you two. you gave it a ten out of ten. it was delicious as you thanked him for it.
“ never knew you could cook, maybe i’ll hire you as my personal chef in the future. ” you said jokingly making umemiya snort.
kiryu mitsuki — 145 words
if you invite him to play a game with him he will accept it without hesitation even if you're bad at it or you just started playing he would help you and will still play with you even if you’re the worst player in the game.
would probably try to impress you to fish out some compliments from you and it works like a charm. “ damn, didn’t knew you’re so good at this! ” you would say as he just laughed wholeheartedly.
he probably won’t even try to hide that he’s trying to impress you. “ i should be good at all these games so i can carry you and impress you, y’know. ” he says that with a smile plastered on his face.
if you two are not talking about games or anything you’re gonna comment about how good he smells because of the perfume he uses.
date posted 062324
I entrust you my fate oh lucky golden potato 🙏
cw//‼️spoilers from Loki the Series‼️curse words ahead‼️ grammatical errors (English is not my first language, I apologize)‼️
Just finished watching Loki episode 1. Yeeyy.. honestly, I am exhausted. Just from the first few minutes, I was already reading up because of all the clips I've watched. I knew for a fact that something angsty was gonna come blowing sand at in my eyes.
And I was right.
Seeing Loki just so, oh God how do I describe this? Uh, confused? Torn? Idk honestly, but that expression alone made me cry. When he kept asking what kind of place was TVA, I felt a little heartache. And when he saw how his mother died–FUCK. I couldn't stop myself from sobbing my heart out. He was in pain. And it fucking hurts through the screen.
I just wanna know; what's so important about the titles as a 'hero' and as a 'villain'. What made people think, that if you save someone then you're automatically a hero. I just don't understand really. I wanna know how these titles were created and what makes these two words so different. In fact, in my opinion they're not that different at all.
Remember the saying: "A villain is just a victim whose story hasn't been told."? I wholeheartedly believe that. I can't find myself to immediately dislike someone who is labelled as a 'villain'. And I also can't find myself to like someone labelled as a 'hero'. At least, not until their stories have been told. Everyone has their stories. Whether they're unfinished, scattered, hidden, ending or just starting.
Hiiii, just to say I love your Shishitoren and Bofurin contents, I'm so glad that I found your blog 😊. Personally, I prefer Togame, but your writing of them all is so great ^.^
Could you maybe do a jealous story like them reacting to you beings jealous or just them being jealous/possessive (I love this trope)?
Like Togame and Suo being jealous, just give me life 😂
It's okay if you don't want too no worry ^^❤️
(Sorry if it's not clear. English isn't my first language)
When they are jealous
—Haruka Sakura, Toma Hiragi, Jo Togame, Hayato Suo
Haruka Sakura
When it comes to someone else taking your attention away, as much as he'd like to convince himself he's chill about it, inside he is jumping around in circles.
For the most part, he's able to control himself and differentiate when you're being just kind and flirting back, so usually, he doesn't mind it if another guy speaks to you in a nicer tone.
However, if he comes to notice that the guy begins to go on a tangent, ultimately speaking a little too much to you than he'd like, starts to grow a bit irritated. Of course he won't go up to the guy and punch him, after all, the person he so happens to be usually jealous of is Nirei.
His face transforms into a small scowl, while trying to shift his eyes away from the scene. At the same time he keeps repeating to himself,
'I don't care I don't care I don't care I don't care.'
Spoiler alert, he does care.
The worst part is, he can not blame the air-headed male for acting like how he acts, when it's literally his personality. So when he witnesses the both of you becoming a little too friendly, the best he will do is force himself into the conversation, regardless if he was even in it or not.
Afterwards when Nirei finally leaves, he waits till he's far enough before launching his body towards yours in a flash.
Toma Hiragi
If you've never seen jealous, then you have now. It's not the usual for Hiragi to explode on sight at another dude that seems to be hitting on you, other than if it was a random guy, then he's surely dragging you away with him to wherever, while cussing out the boy to leave you alone.
But when it comes to people he knows, he's jealous of Umemiya, and not for those reasons. Hiragi is aware that he's best friend simply has an outgoing and extroverted personality, he doesn't blame him whenever he gets a little too close. But jeez does it drive him crazy on the inside.
His mood instantly shifts, but not in way anyone would expect it to go. Rather then blowing up at the grey-haired male, instead, the atmosphere around him grows calmer, almost as if he's trying to avoid its not happening. The tactic for him, is it straight up ignore it by any means possible.
He'll start responding with dryer answers to anyone and spends a hefty amount of time on his phone to get the scene off his mind of Umemiya guiding you with him around the place on the roof top. He might even throw in some earbuds and blast rock music.
Afterwards when you two are back together, you can't tell if he had a scowl on his face while walking away with you by his side.
"Is something the matter?" You asked looking up at him. He doesn't say anything, still too pissed about what happened earlier so instead, he reaches his long arm behind your back to the side of your hip and brings you a bit closer to him without saying another word.
Jo Togame
Whenever he finds himself in a tight situation, specifically in public when a guy that's being friendlier than usual comes by to say hello, he's able to hold himself together very well for the first few minutes.
He even adds himself to the conversation whenever he sees a chance to—purely because he does not want to seem like a loose thread just watching the both of you speak when he's right beside you standing like a weirdo. However, when he starts to take note of how the other guy is getting closer, all up in your face, flat out ignoring whenever your boyfriend chimes in, and worst of all throwing in hints that you two should meet another time, he knows right away.
This is one of the very few times where he finds it extremely hard to keep his cool and usually, he's able to do that.
Seeing that he can't really talk to the guy because he keeps ignoring him, he'll slickly wrap his arm around your shoulder to lean on you or he'll wrap his arm around your waist and at the slightest—pull you closer to him. He stays quiet the entire time, he won't see this situation as such a huge deal where he has to hammer the guy into pieces, but there is a tiny part of him where his ego begins to escape.
He'll never cut your time short simply because he wouldn't want his time to be cut short either, but the most he'll ever do (which is quite intimidating), he will whisper in your ear.
"Are you trying to piss me off?" All while putting a smile on his face.
He only does this when he feels like it's going too far and for him, it works. Hearing his deep voice whisper in your ear to watch what you're doing makes you do a reality check that if Togame really wanted to beat up the guy right in front of you, he would without a doubt.
Hayato Suo
It's extremely hard to make him feel jealous. He knows how to keep his cool and trained himself to never lash out at all, only if something absurd had happened right before his eyes. But aside from that, even if you try to get him jealous, chances are—it's not working.
Even speaking to another guy, spending more time with your friends, or replying late, he will never get jealous or mad at you for that. So what is the only circumstance where he does feel a slight hinge of jealousy?
That is only when you get physical with another guy. He can flirt with you for all he cares and yet, he will never get upset at the sight of the random guy calling you pretty (he might even add on and say "She is, isn't she?") but the moment he sees him trying to lay a finger on you, there's a chance where he'll grip his arm in midair to stop him from touching you.
"I think that's enough yes?" He says while pulling you closer to him and putting the guys arm away.
Afterwards, the whole mood of the conversation changes, in fact he might be the only one who continues his happy go lucky personality and on with the conversation. It's awkward, the way he flat out rejected the guy for you without you even asking. Not to say that you didn't appreciate it, but now it made the other guy uncomfortable which was what Hayato was striving for anyways.
He's pricky whenever someone tries to touch you and the only time where you'll see his attitude changes.
Lemon Blueberry [Suzuri Shuhei x Reader]
![Lemon Blueberry [Suzuri Shuhei X Reader]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/dc4520bd39821aadf37ce9dda40fec56/c0f394c6467e94ad-e8/s500x750/313a36c81d398f9f4530192d1c7ec04cf61c4de4.png)
Pairing: Suzuri Shuhei x GN!Reader Word Count: ~2300 [Ao3 Link]
Summary: Shuhei bakes for the first time, with you
Warnings: Spoilers for the manga (suzuri's backstory and current occupation); also warning for light mentions of Stuff Pertinent to his backstory as well; no gendered pronouns or terms are used for the reader; kissing; feeding each other food with your hands idk; written with aged up suzuri in mind
Notes: wrote this a while ago and it's barely edited but I haven't seen any suzuri fics so I have to make my own food <3
The light of the setting sun bathed the kitchen in its soft honey glow. Your focus shifted for just a second, away from the finicky stand mixer in front of you to the window, no doubt admiring the clouds cast in their colorful glow. And as cliché as it sounds, Shuhei thought that you are undoubtedly more beautiful than any sunset could ever be.
And to think he used to mock those who loved…
It still seemed like a dream sometimes. Partially the idea of making an honest living, enough for the rent on an apartment and a healthy three meals a day without stretching it; things he fought bloody tooth and nail for in the past were now within his grasp. And even more than that, he was fulfilled emotionally and mentally in a way that he never was before. He had pride in himself now, not the false, vindictively bitter and caustic ‘pride’ he had before, but true pride. The sort that came from improving, and learning, and going to sleep every night feeling content in himself and his actions.
(In his darker moments, he feared going to sleep, just in case when he woke, he was back There and all of this was the machinations of his starved mind.)
If it was all a dream, Shuhei thought, you were certainly the cruelest part of it. You, who befriended him back when he was still the starved, bruised wraith who first started working in the kitchen of a fancy red light restaurant, scrubbing plates until his hands peeled. You, who knew his dirty past from Tsubaki, but never looked down on him for it. You, who treated him like a person, and who made him feel more real than he had in years. You, who through soft smiles and gentle teasing and homecooked meals gave him his first taste of what falling in love must feel like. He never really believed in any sort of benevolent god (what sort of good god would let him suffer as he once did, anyway); yet he prayed every night that this (that you) were real.
Seemingly oblivious to his thoughts, you broke the silence by giving the mixer a theatrical slap on its side, like you were patting the flank of a beloved horse. “Are you ready?” you asked.
He nodded a little stiffly, hoping you hadn’t noticed him staring. (Although, you were a bit oblivious, he thought, because he is horrible at hiding his infatuation with you).
Shuhei had been over to your house a handful of times, mostly to hang out, or for dinner. This is the first time he would be helping in your kitchen. Despite the fact that he had been learning all that he could about cooking from his job, he had never baked something in his life. And that’s where you came in.
After hearing that, the first thing you suggested was for him to come over so the two of you could bake something together, and he had jumped at the golden opportunity to not only learn a new skill, but also to spend time with you (and also to eat good food, but that was a given).
“I hope you don’t mind, I had something picked out already,” you said, as you adjusted the colorful containers of ingredients situated on the counter in front of you. “Cookies are kind of the obvious thing to bake for your first time, but I have a recipe I think you’ll really like.”
“And what’s that?”
You turn the full force of your smile to him, and he squints a bit. “Lemon blueberry bread! I know you like the taste of fresh fruit, so I thought this would be perfect. And it’s not a very difficult recipe anyway.”
You were right…as you usually were about him. He had never told you, but he did gravitate towards fruit when he had the chance. Fruit was a luxury he could never really partake in where he used to live; it spoiled quickly and couldn’t be kept down when it was bad. Even the thought of fresh lemons and blueberries had him salivating, and you laughed at his eager expression.
“You know me so well,” he said, careful to keep his voice from being too sappy.
You flashed him another smile, and presented him with a measuring cup. “Can you measure out the sugar for me?”
-
Shuhei was a fast learner, and it was no different with baking. He had a lot of questions, and you answered them to the best of your ability.
“Why do you add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients instead of the other way around?”
“I’m sure there’s probably a scientific reason for it that I don’t know…but it is less messy than dumping a bunch of powder, and when you pour the liquid, it mixes a bit instead of just floating on top.”
“How do you know it’s done mixing?”
“Depends on what you’re making. Here it should look uniform and smooth…see how there’s still some little lumps in there? It needs to go for longer. Some recipes need to be mixed for a long time, so they get more air in them…doesn’t really matter for this though.”
“Why are you putting flour on the blueberries?”
“It keeps them from sinking when it bakes, so you get blueberries all the way through the bread instead of just at the bottom.”
“Can I eat some of it now?”
You hesitated for a second. “Well…you’re not really supposed to eat stuff with raw egg in it, but we should have a little taste, so we know if we need to add anything.” You pulled a spoon out of seemingly nowhere and dipped the tip of it in the yellow batter. Shuhei expected you to hand the spoon to him, but instead you held it up towards his mouth, and looked at him expectantly.
He could feel his face heating up at the fact that you’re feeding him; and he panicked a little bit. He ended up biting down hard on the spoon when he tried to taste the batter, making an audible click.
The two of you winced in unison, his from pain and yours from sympathy.
“I’d give that a zero out of ten for gracefulness,” you commented, “But anyway how does it taste?”
Shuhei felt even more red than he was before, but through his embarrassment and the pain in his teeth, he can still taste the bright citrus flavor. “It’s good.”
“Knew it!” you crowed, and then you gave him a heart attack by using the spoon to take your own sampling of the batter. “Mmmm. Yeah. We did good.”
You used the same spoon that he had just had in his mouth. That was essentially an indirect kiss.
You were going to be the death of him.
-
After the bread was placed in the oven, and all the dishes were washed and put away, the two of you sat down on the couch to await the ding of the timer.
“So, how do you feel after your first time baking?” you asked, looking at him hopefully.
Shuhei knew you wanted him to enjoy it, and he privately thought it was cute of you to be so invested in his happiness. Luckily for you, Shuhei loved making food (and he loved spending time with you). “I feel good. It was fun, I just hope it turns out good.”
Your laughter leaned more into a cackle than a giggle, but he still thought you were adorable. “I thought you’d like it! And I’m sure it will be delicious, especially since you helped me.” You shuffled a bit closer to him on the couch to give him a teasing poke, your eyes sparkling.
He raised an eyebrow at you, trying to keep the corner of his mouth from twitching up in amusement. “Oh, does my help make it better?”
“Hmmm…I don’t know…didn’t your boss tell you you had ‘the magic touch’ with food last week?” you said, smirking at him. “Maybe you added some of your magic to this bread.”
He scoffed, turning away from you to hide his blush. “My boss is too nice. I just pick things up quickly, that’s all. ‘S nothing special.”
You poked at him again, repeatedly with your finger until he turned back towards you to smack your hand away (gently, because he didn’t want to hurt you). Your face had dropped its previous joking expression, replaced with a painfully open one. His heart caught in his throat at the soft curve of your mouth and the warmth in your eyes.
“I think you’re pretty special,” you said earnestly; your eyes shine with something he can now recognize looks a lot like love.
The timer sounded at that moment, and you sprung up from your spot to go check the bread. You moved suspiciously quickly, like you were embarrassed at your admission.
Shuhei remained sitting on the couch, frozen. He felt more dazed than when Tsubaki had cleaned his clock with a kick to his head. He barely dared to hope…but maybe, just maybe, you also felt for him what he felt for you.
-
The bread was already out of the oven and cooling when Shuhei pulled himself together and entered the kitchen. The two of you stared at the cooling bread in silence for a moment. The kitchen is filled with the warm scent of baked bread and sweet lemon. Shuhei felt the urge to lick the bread so he could finally taste it. His stomach growled, breaking the silence.
“I’m so fucking hungry,” he finally said.
“Oh my gosh, same,” you said. “It smells so good I think I’m drooling.”
“How long do we have to wait to eat?”
“I mean…really we should wait until it fully cools so we can put the glaze on…”
He turned to give you his best starving puppy dog face (a face he has created and perfected in the time he has known you).
You hesitated, glancing between him, the bread, and the unused glass of lemon glaze. He could see the conflict in your eyes, until you finally gave in, shoulders slumping as you sigh.
“Y’know what, it’s cool enough. You wanna do the honors?”
He was a little clumsy with the glaze, and most of it is absorbed into the warm bread, but you applauded him when he was done anyways. “Okay now, you’re officially done with your first bake!”
“Time to eat?” he asked eagerly.
You broke out an oversized bread knife, which glinted in the light. (If you weren’t so cute, Shuhei thought, it would look threatening). “Yup!”
-
You sit next to each other on the hard kitchen floor, each holding a thick, warm slice of bread in your bare hands, because you were both too hungry to grab plates and utensils and move to a table.
You gave him a nod, and he took his first bite.
If Shuhei thought the batter was good, the finished bread was heavenly. It was soft, but still packed a powerful burst of tart lemon flavor, and the blueberries had cooked down into an almost jam-like consistency that gave the perfect sweetness to the rest of the bread. Before he knew it, he had devoured the entire slice ravenously.
When he looked back up, you were still holding your own slice, forgotten as you stared at him.
He felt a burst of self-consciousness. He knew he still ate like a rabid animal sometimes; his mind and body still remembered what it was like to starve, even when his stomach was full.
But you don’t look like you’re judging him. Instead, you have that same shine in your eyes again.
“It’s good,” he said lamely, to break the tension.
You simply smiled at this and broke off a piece of your own slice of bread, holding it out to him, towards his mouth (once again).
Shuhei was careful to be gentle this time. He tried to keep from touching you, but your fingers brush against his lips anyway. His skin burned where you touched, and he burned even more under your unmoving gaze.
He reached out for your bread, breaking off a piece himself. It’s clear you expected him to eat it, but it’s his turn to surprise you. He held out the chunk of bread to you, fingers trembling minutely with his nervousness. He resolutely kept his eyes on you, even though he could feel his face radiating heat, so he didn’t miss seeing the shock on your face, and the light glaze to your eyes as you take the piece from his hand.
Your lips were soft when they touched his calloused fingers, and his heart stuttered when he felt the lightest touch of your tongue.
You finished the slice off that way, feeding each other pieces without speaking a word. When it’s finally gone, he reached out one more time, to grab your hands and cradle them in his own.
Shuhei knew how he felt about you; he never really thought you felt anything more than friendship for him, but this night had opened his eyes. Even if he was wrong, after all of this, he finally had the courage to find out what you really felt.
He waited to see if you pulled away, but instead you edged closer to him.
“Hey Shuhei,” you murmured.
“Yeah?” he asked, breathless.
The way you looked at him was so filled with tenderness; it almost made his eyes water. “I like you,” you said. “I like you, so much. I might love you.”
He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until he let out a shuddering exhale at your words.
“I’ve never felt like this about anyone before,” he confessed. “But I think it’s love.”
Your answer came in the form of a kiss.
Your lips were even softer when they were pressed against his own, and the flavor of lemon and blueberry was even sweeter when he licked it from inside your mouth.
Banished
jason todd x fem!reader
aka jason misses his girlfriend
warnings: extremely mild angst, he’s just mopey (he’s fine)
Jason sits slumped over the kitchen island, head lying in his crossed arms. His now soggy cereal disregarded after barely a few bites.
Dick’s been rummaging through the cabinets for the better part of twenty minutes while Tim has sat atop of the nook table shoving donuts in his mouth for the better part of thirty.
Damian trudges into the room, past them and onto the nook bench, taking out a knife and beginning to whittle away at a block of wood.
He glances at Jason with a scowl. “If you’re going to be so miserable, can’t you do it in your own home?”
Jason just grunts.
He wishes. You and Bruce had conspired to trap him at the mansion for the week so he could heal from injuries sustained during the last mission without risk of him suiting up and sneaking away from you in the middle of the night.
But it’s not even the fact that he’s basically being babysat that’s got him so disgruntled. He secretly wouldn’t really mind it at all if you were here too. But you were dead set that the manor was too far out of your way for work, so you’d stayed behind. A lose-lose for Jason.
“He’s just mad his girlfriend kicked him out,” Dick teases, swiping through the fridge.
Tim snorts from the doorway, “Me too. He’s a lot more depressing on his own.”
Jason keeps his head down as he blindly reaches for the spoon in his cereal and chucks it at Tim’s head.
Tim catches it without thought, continuing, “A lot more irritable, at least. Why isn’t she here?”
“She’s gotta work,” Dick says, scanning through the pantry.
Damian peeps his head up from his project. “But Todd has a rather large supply of less than legally obtained money, does he not?”
“Yeah, but she said she wants to pay her own rent, I think,” Dicks hums, finally giving up on his quest for a snack.
Damian pauses.
“So she wants to live in a tiny apartment?” He asks, a mixture of confused and horrified.
“Watch your mouth,” Jason mumbles.
“It was a genuine question!” Damian protests, face screwed up.
Jason finally lifts his head up, turning to his little brother with a raised brows. “And I’m genuinely going to break your nose.”
It’s an empty threat, maybe. But it was enough to shut Damian up anyways. Jason turns back to his cereal and swishes the bowl around.
Dick rests his arms on the counter across from Jason and speaks lowly. “You know, it is just a few days. She’s coming back.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
Jason was never one for showing his feelings—let alone talking about them.
He misses you, plain and simple. Dick could see that much clearly, though the longing looked unfamiliar on Jason.
Bruce lingers in the hallway, just past the island, listening.
He’ll admit (to himself) that he’s worried about Jason. It’s been three days and Jason has yet to show a crack in this demeanor. And while it’s not uncommon for him to stow himself away, there is something quite wrong with the way he hasn’t countered his brother’s jabs at him or teased them.
And while he could do without the blatant threats, he’s proud to hear his son defending his girlfriend, even over trivial things. It’s one of the few moments where he feels like he did right by him as a father.
And now here’s his son, caring about someone else more than he cares about himself. Someone who’s a good person, no less. It had been your idea to trick Jason into staying at the manor, you were scared that he would push his body past its limit when you couldn’t do anything to help.
Bruce knew you didn’t feel great about basically banishing him for the week but he could see that you just wanted what was best for Jason. He could see it so clearly. Maybe Bruce could never have been a perfect father, could never have given his son everything he needed despite having more money than he could ever use. Maybe he couldn’t help him, even now.
But you could.
Bruce peers around the corner, leaning up against the doorframe.
He watches Damian give up on carving at his block and start into the leg of the table.
He watches the bickering that broke out after Tim grab the last glazed donut, which was apparently the only thing Dick could possibly fathom eating.
And he watches Jason.
As Jason’s phone lights up on the counter next to him. He glances down at it with a frown before his face absolutely lights up.
He scrambles to pick the phone up and starts typing away. A quiet action that catches the attention of all of his brothers.
He types and types, waits for ten seconds for a response and types and types again—smile on his face.
The Waynes didn’t need to be the greatest detectives in the world to know who he was texting.
✨ reblog fics or face the block button ✨
ii. attraction (wbk series)
synopsis. sparks ignite and hearts flutter as a magnetic pull draws two people closer. featuring. sakura haruka, suo hayato, kaji ren, umemiya hajime x f!reader content. fluff, sfw, mutual pining, lots of teasing, brief mention of umemiya’s past notes. thank you all so much for giving this series so much love! and with that, here’s the second part ♡ word count. 3.8k+
series masterlist | i. first meeting | iii. confession
𓍢ִ໋ sakura haruka
a few weeks after the cat incident, you unexpectedly found yourself growing closer to sakura. it wasn't something you had planned, but it seemed like every time you turned around, there he was. whether it was during one of his patrols or just in passing as you went about your day in makochi, the two of you kept bumping into each other more often than you could count.
you also spent time with suo and nirei, but lately, your interactions with sakura seemed more frequent. sometimes you were alone together, and other times, you were with the others.
the fact that you lived just a few feet away from him made it easier to develop a closer relationship—at least, that's what you thought. you weren't sure how sakura felt, as you were still getting to know him. however, you observed him quite a bit, noticing traits that most people might not be aware of.
it amused you that sakura often acted like he hated everyone around him, only to say something unexpectedly inspiring afterward. this left you wondering if he considered you a friend. the only evidence you had was that he still tolerated your company, even when you bribed him with omurice to do you a favor.
hoping to get even closer, you invited him, along with suo and nirei, to the annual festival in makochi. the town was beautifully adorned with lanterns, and various stalls lined the streets. when you met up with the group, sakura was noticeably flustered at the sight of you in a yukata. you couldn't help but smile at his reaction; it was just typical sakura.
as you all wandered through the festival, nirei immediately spotted a food stall and rushed over with suo, leaving you and sakura alone. you smiled sheepishly at sakura, who only glanced at you from the corner of his eye.
"are you hungry?" you asked.
"of course, dumbass. we're at a festival, so the least we could do is enjoy the food."
you laughed at his response before eagerly dragging him along to where nirei and suo were. the four of you engaged in casual conversation, sampling various foods from the stalls until you were all too full to eat any more.
as the evening wore on, you shared moments of laughter and enjoyment. while walking around, you spotted a goldfish scooping stall and excitedly turned to sakura. "sakura, look! we should try catching some goldfish."
sakura looked at the stall, furrowing his brows slightly. "huh? what are you, five? what are you even gonna do with a goldfish?"
"you ask a lot of questions," you pouted. "just admit you're scared you can't catch one."
"what?!" he exclaimed, jumping away from you and pointing an accusing finger. "you're the one who's scared! of course, i can catch a goldfish, not just one!"
"well then," you smirked, successfully goading him into a challenge. "prove it."
with a twitch of his eye, sakura's competitive side took over, and he stepped up to the stall. the two of you began competing to see who could catch the most goldfish, with suo and nirei cheering from the sidelines. the paper scoops kept tearing, and the goldfish darted away faster than you could catch them.
despite the initial tension, the competition quickly turned into playful banter. sakura, usually aggressive, softened as he watched you laugh and enjoy the game. you didn't notice, but suo's observant eye caught the shift in sakura's demeanor.
after some struggle, you finally caught a goldfish. in your excitement, you accidentally splashed water on sakura, causing him to jump back in surprise. you immediately apologized, not realizing he wasn't angry. he was too captivated by your smile to care about being wet.
later, the four of you strolled through the festival, soaking in the atmosphere. the night culminated with a fireworks display. suo and nirei went to get drinks, while you and sakura found a quiet spot away from the crowd to enjoy the show. as the fireworks lit up the sky, you shared a peaceful moment, silently watching the colorful display.
the reflection of the fireworks in your eyes caught sakura's attention. he didn't understand the strange feeling in his chest at that moment. normally, he'd be flustered. but instead, he felt at ease, as if he could forget all the world's problems.
when a particularly large firework illuminated the sky, casting a glow on your awed face, sakura realized something. just like the fireworks, you had brightened the deepest, darkest corners of his heart, revealing emotions he hadn't known existed.
almost missing your gaze turning toward him, sakura quickly looked away, deciding to focus on the fireworks. when you noticed his red ears, you laughed and teased him about it. he got defensive, and the two of you fell into playful banter, forgetting the world around you. suo and nirei watched from a distance, sharing knowing smiles at the sight of the two of you.
𓍢ִ໋ suo hayato
suo is definitely a mysterious one, but in a good way. there's an air of intrigue about him that draws you in rather than pushes you away.
your first meeting with suo was already quite unique. you didn't expect anyone to know the basics of your native language, but there he was, helping you navigate an order crisis with ease. grateful for his assistance, you left the encounter surprised to receive a text message from him later, saying he was glad to have helped. this simple act of kindness blossomed into frequent text exchanges, and before long, you had become text buddies.
you found yourself messaging suo often, whether you were at school or just out buying groceries. initially, you were hesitant, worried that you might be coming off as too clingy or overly friendly. but suo, with his gentleman-like demeanor, never made you feel that way. he was just as enthusiastic as you were, and you couldn't help but think he was kind of cute (a random passing thought everytime he teaches you new japanese words).
speaking of lessons, you were supposed to meet him right after school at a public library. you had already texted him that you were on your way (even though you were still inside a convenience store, picking up snacks for yourself and tea for suo).
after making your purchase, you headed to the library. upon entering the fairly large building, you felt a bit anxious since it was your first time there. you scanned the area, hoping to spot his brown-reddish hair among the sea of people browsing books and occupying tables.
just as you were about to give up, you saw someone waving their arms in your direction. it was suo. you waved back and made your way over to where he was sitting.
settling into a cozy, quiet corner, suo greeted you with his usual warm smile. he had a small stack of books in front of him, along with a notebook and a few pens. the atmosphere was serene, punctuated only by the soft rustling of pages and occasional whispers.
"hey, glad you could make it," suo said, sliding a chair out for you. "i found some books that i think you'll find interesting."
you returned his smile, feeling a mix of curiosity and excitement. "what did you find?"
after placing your bag and snacks on the chair next to you, suo handed you a beautifully illustrated book. "it's a collection of traditional japanese folktales. i thought it would be a fun way to help you with your language skills. plus, the stories are fascinating."
you opened the book, flipping through pages filled with both japanese text and english translations. "this is amazing, suo! i love folktales, and it'll definitely help me learn."
he chuckled softly. "i figured it would be a good way to blend learning with something enjoyable. we can read them together, and i'll help you with any tricky words or phrases."
as you both delved into the stories, suo patiently guided you through the nuances of the language, explaining the cultural context and meanings behind certain phrases. his explanations were thorough yet never overwhelming, and his passion for the subject was infectious. you found yourself not only learning but also becoming increasingly intrigued by the tales and the language.
as the evening progressed, suo found himself watching you more intently. the way you concentrated on the text, your brow furrowing slightly in thought — all caught his attention. there was something captivating about your genuine interest and enthusiasm for learning.
he leaned back slightly, a small, amused smile playing on his lips as he observed you. it wasn't often that someone could hold his interest so completely, and he found himself curious about the effect you had on him.
suo was usually the one doing the teasing, enjoying the reactions he could elicit. but with you, he felt a quiet admiration that was both new and intriguing.
you looked up when you felt someone’s eyes on you. you then caught the eye of suo thats’s watching you, and instead of looking away, he met your gaze with a playful smirk. "enjoying the stories?" he asked, his tone casual but carrying an undertone of something more.
you smiled, a hint of a challenge in your eyes. "very much. thanks for sharing them."
he chuckled softly, leaning forward slightly. "you're welcome. it's always interesting to see someone so dedicated. makes me wonder what else you're passionate about."
the subtle implication in his words made your heart skip a beat, but you kept your composure. "you'll just have to keep finding things to teach me, and maybe you'll find out," you replied, matching his playful tone.
suo's smile widened, clearly enjoying the exchange. there was a palpable tension in the air between you, a mutual recognition of a growing connection. he was intrigued by your confidence and the way you met his teasing without hesitation.
as the evening drew to a close and you both began packing up, suo felt a subtle but undeniable attraction toward you. it wasn't a feeling that flustered him; instead, it intrigued him. he enjoyed the challenge you presented and appreciated the way you didn't back down from his teasing. it was refreshing, and he couldn't help but wonder what other layers there were to you.
walking you to the library entrance, suo couldn't resist one last playful remark. "you know, you make studying a lot more interesting. maybe next time, i'll teach you something even more challenging."
you laughed, nodding. "i'll hold you to that."
as you both went your separate ways, suo felt a thrill at the thought of getting to know you better. it wasn't just about the lessons or the teasing; it was about the unexpected spark that had ignited between you. for someone who usually kept his emotions guarded, suo found himself looking forward to exploring this newfound attraction.
𓍢ִ໋ kaji ren
after the chance encounter at the music store, where kaji gave you the last copy of the album, you found yourself intrigued by the quiet, straightforward boy with the headphones and his favorite suckers. that simple gesture of kindness sparked the beginning of a growing friendship.
over the next few weeks, you often ran into kaji around town. whether you were at a local store, a food market, or just strolling through makochi, friendly greetings became a regular part of your interactions. you kept expressing your gratitude for the album, despite his insistence that it was no big deal.
after knowing kaji, you could also tell that the suckers and his headphones were important to him, even though he never explicitly mentioned it. you assumed they helped him keep his temper in check, and this little detail added to your curiosity about him.
as time went on, you noticed that each meeting seemed to chip away at kaji’s tough exterior, revealing a more considerate side of him.
one particularly busy afternoon, while you were running errands amidst the crowded streets of makochi, you saw kaji patrolling with enomoto and kusumi. kaji looked visibly tense, his frustration palpable amidst the chaos. deciding to check in, you approached him.
"hey, kaji! how's it going?" you called out, waving. you realized that he did not hear you. however, enomoto and kusumi noticed you first.
but just as kusumi was about to tap kaji on the shoulder to get his attention, kaji had already pulled his headphones down and around his neck the moment he saw a glimpse of your hair.
his usual scowl softened a bit once you were in front of him. "oh, hey," he said, trying to mask his irritation. "just dealing with the usual mess. it's been a rough day."
you smiled sympathetically. "yeah, i can imagine. but hey, at least you’ve got your trusty suckers to keep you going, right?" you teased gently, nodding toward the red candy in his hand.
kaji’s lips twitched, and he tried to suppress a smile. “yeah, these suckers are my lifesavers,” he said, placing one in his mouth. “keeps me from losing my patience.”
as you continued chatting, you noticed kaji’s usual irritation seemed to lessen. he remained straightforward and honest, but there was a new softness in his demeanor that you hadn't seen before. it was almost as if your presence had a calming effect on him.
just then, a group of rowdy teens caused a commotion nearby, blocking the path. you glanced at kaji, expecting him to react with his usual frustration. but instead, he only looked at the teens and then at his vice-captains before nodding. enomoto and kusumi immediately took action, approaching the teens.
kaji, meanwhile, turned back to you, his gaze noticeably softened.
"need some help with anything?" you asked, sensing his unusual calm. you were surprised that he did not lash out at all. "or maybe just a break from all the noise?"
kaji hesitated, then shook his head. “no, it’s fine,” he said, his voice devoid of its usual edge. “just… thanks for stopping by. it was… nice.”
you smiled warmly. “no problem. it was nice seeing you, too.” you added with a friendly tone, “if you ever need to talk or just hang out, i’m around. we can also check out the album store again. i heard your favorite artist has released a new track."
kaji looked a bit taken aback and then gave a small nod, his eyes still on you. “yeah, maybe… i’ll take you up on that sometime.”
you waved cheerfully as you left. “see you around, kaji!”
as you walk away, kaji watches as you disappear into the crowd. he felt an unfamiliar sense of tranquility whenever you are near. he was surprised by how your presence had eased his frustration which is a stark contrast to his usual irritation.
moments later, enomoto and kusumi caught up with him. enomoto, who saw the last interaction between you and kaji, grinned mischievously. “hey, captain! what was that all about? you seemed prrretty soft back therrre.”
kusumi, barely containing his amusement, eagerly sent a message in their group chat.
yeah, captain. your gentler side is coming out whenever y/n-chan's around.
kaji, visibly flustered, glared at them, his cheeks flushed. “shut up, you two,” he muttered, trying to regain his composure. “it’s nothing.”
enomoto chuckled. “looks like someone’s got a little crush.”
kaji’s face turned even redder, and he grumbled, “i don’t have a crush. i was just being… polite.”
kusumi nudged enomoto before showing what was written on his phone screen again.
i bet you’re looking forward to seeing her again
ദ്ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧
kaji glared at his two vice-captain, his irritation clear with a mix of embarrassment. he wears his headphones once again before turning away. “just drop it. let’s get back to patrol.”
as enomoto and kusumi continued to tease him, kaji’s irritation was evident, but there was also a clear hint of embarrassment. despite his usual straightforwardness, it was clear that your presence had affected him more than he cared to admit. he found himself unexpectedly looking forward to the next time he would see you, feeling a curious blend of anticipation and nervousness.
𓍢ִ໋ umemiya hajime
it didn't take long for you and umemiya to become close friends. with his naturally friendly and reliable nature, it was no surprise that once umemiya made a promise, he was determined to keep it. one such promise was the tour around town he offered you after your memorable meeting when you got lost — though you still insist that you weren't truly lost!
as the time approached for you to leave makochi and return to your hometown, umemiya made it a point to visit your grandparents' plant store regularly. his visits were always purposeful — whether its inviting you out to explore the town, helping out in the store, or simply spending time with you. through these frequent interactions, you grew closer, enjoying introducing him to some of your favorite plants.
when the day came for you to say goodbye, both of you felt a deep sadness. umemiya reassured you with a heartfelt promise: no matter how long it took, you would see each other again whenever you visit makochi. the both of you promised to keep in touch, and each time you returned to makochi, umemiya was there to welcome you. you even met some of his other friends, whom he had mentioned in a letter sent during a period when communication was limited.
over the years, your friendship with umemiya deepened significantly. you shared countless secrets, personal stories, and learned about his difficult past. despite his outward strength and resilience, you saw the scars and vulnerabilities beneath. there was a moment when you offered the exact words of comfort he needed, leading him to open up and show his vulnerable side to you for the very first time.
now, as the leader of bofurin, umemiya has grown into a significant role. yet, despite his responsibilities and the weight of his position, he remains the same kind, caring, and hardworking person you met when you were just thirteen.
as time went on, your feelings for umemiya began to shift. initially, you dismissed these feelings as simply brotherly or sisterly affection. however, you recently realized that your feelings ran deeper. despite his tendency to treat nearly everyone like a sibling, there was something special about your connection with him. but for now, you like the relationship you have with him. you decided to keep your feelings at bay since you don't want to ruin your friendship if he doesn't share the same affection.
you are once again in makochi. and with the help of umemiya and your frequent visits, you have finally familiarized yourself with your surroundings.
as you make your way towards furin high, you can't help but feel excited about visiting umemiya and his plants on the rooftop. he already knew you were in town, but he hasn't seen you yet because he had to attend to an urgent matter.
upon entering the premises, every first- and second-year student you pass by greets you with warm smiles and friendly faces.
of course, you are a familiar face. they know you as their leader's most valued friend. yep, a friend.
but they think otherwise.
not with the way umemiya acts around you. they doubt you're just a friend because their leader gets all mushy and clingy once you're in his line of sight.
speaking of that, once you've entered the rooftop, umemiya is already all over you.
"y/n!" he exclaims, his tall frame bending down in order to rub his cheek against yours affectionately. "i've missed you so much!"
you chuckle at his enthusiasm and pat his chest. "i've missed you too, ume. how have you been?"
he pulls back slightly, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "busy, but good. the usual chaos, you know? but let's talk about you! it's been too long since you've been here."
you smile, feeling warmth spread through you at his genuine happiness to see you. "it has been a while, hasn't it? but i'm back now, and i brought some new ideas for your plants."
with that, you both move toward the small garden on the rooftop — a project that umemiya had started in order to create a peaceful space amidst the school's hectic environment.
the two of you work side by side, tending to the various plants. you find yourself focusing on the tomatoes, gently pruning the leaves and checking the soil's moisture.
"your tomatoes are looking great," you remark, glancing at umemiya. "but i think they could use a bit more support. have you considered using stakes to help them grow straighter?"
umemiya watches you intently, a soft smile playing on his lips. he nods, leaning closer to see your handiwork. "you always have the best advice. i don't know what i'd do without you."
you laugh lightly. "oh, i'm sure you'd manage, ume. but i'm glad to help."
as you continue working, umemiya's gaze lingers on you. he can't help but admire the way you move with such care and attention. it reminds him of the first time he saw you at thirteen, lost but determined, and how he felt a pull towards you even then. there was something about your spirit that intrigued him, and over the years, that intrigue blossomed into something deeper.
he watches as you tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, a gesture so familiar yet endearing. he knows he's supposed to be the strong leader, the one everyone looks up to, but around you, he feels like just another guy, nervous and hopeful. he wonders if you can hear his heart pounding in his chest or if you notice the way his breath catches whenever you smile at him.
"hey, y/n," he begins, his voice softer than usual. "do you remember when we first met? you were wandering around, insisting you weren't lost."
you pause, glancing at him with a knowing smile before rolling your eyes. "of course, i remember. you were the one who found me and offered to give me a tour of the town. it was one of the best days i've had."
umemiya chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "yeah, i guess it was. i never told you this, but that day... it meant a lot to me. more than you probably know."
you stare at ume as he tends to the other plants with a smile — a mysterious one — on his face. there's a moment of silence as the weight of his words settles between you. you feel a flutter in your chest, a mix of curiosity and hope. but before you can respond, hiragi and tsubaki, along with their vice-captains, burst onto the rooftop. they were all chattering amongst themselves.
umemiya sighs, shaking his head with a grin. "looks like our quiet time is over. come on, let's go see what they're up to."
as you both head towards your other friends, you can't shake the feeling that something unspoken still lingers in the air. you glance at umemiya, wondering what exactly he meant by those words and if perhaps, just perhaps, he feels the same way you do.
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hey so how do you think the bat boys would deal with a sweet yet fiesty crush? Your jealousy post got me thinking. How the boys deal with jealousy over a crush, but what they do with a crush who isn’t prone to jealousy? the boys ask if crush ever gets jealous over a crush and s/o is like “no. I don’t own him. I have no right to feel jealous over him since we’re friends. And if we date, I’ll just trust him. He’s not my property. If he does cheat on me, I’ll hunt him down and kick his ass cuz I imagine we’d agree about committing at some point”?
Dick:
You don’t get jealous. Huh.
He slouches on the sofa, arms crossed and cheeks puffed out. No he’s not sulking, he’s just stumped. Your words make sense and give him another reason for him to like you. But what does that make him? Here he is, getting bothered by everyone close to him trying to show off how much closer they are to you while looking at him. Especially Wally, yes bros before hoes but he really needs to stop putting his arm around your shoulders whenever the three of you hang out. Not to mention the smug smirk the red head sends him knowing he won’t be able to do anything about it. “Oh, I’m just being friendly” his ass.
He suddenly feels something tugging at his pants. Looking down, a tiny smile forms on his face as lifts Haley up to his eyes.
“Haley, would you get jealous over your crush?”
He heaves a heavy sigh when she tilts her head questionably. Figures.
Plopping her on his face, Haley barks energetically most likely from him blowing raspberries into her tummy in attempts to vent out his frustration. He has it so bad for you… Why does life enjoy making things harder for him including his desire to simply ask you?
Jason:
Welp. That’s a problem. Don’t get him wrong, it’s great and a relief for him since it means you're a green-flag, pro-healthy relationship type of a person. Problem is that he likes you. And he’s trying to gauge if you like him back so he can know if he has a chance with you. Jealousy is one of the biggest indicators of figuring out if a person likes another person seen in books, TV shows, movies, real-life (he’s totally not talking from first-hand experience).
But you don’t get jealous. He’s not a jerk to plan to purposely instigate you into jealousy but considering it’s one of the more obvious signs, he was hoping he can use it as a form of proof that the feeling was mutual. So much for that plan though.
Feet propped up on his desk, he slumps deeper into his chair and takes grumpy chomps out of his chili dog. Seriously, what does a guy gotta do to figure out if he’s able to ask someone out around here?
Apparently everything that annoys him when the chili slides off the hot dog and onto his white t-shirt.
“Shit.”
Mentally he flips a finger into the air as he makes his way to the sink. To whomever is sending back luck towards him, he sincerely expresses fuck them.
Tim:
He’s not bothered by it. It’s a perfect response that shows the positivity in being in a relationship with you. So, he’s not bothered by what you said whatsoever.
That’s what he tells himself, approaching his third hour of searching up if it’s normal to not feel jealous when crushing on someone on top of all the other signs of having a crush. Aggressive mouse clicking and tapping of the keyboard filling the room as his eyes drill holes into the screen.
All the articles say that it’s fine and usually points towards a good sign. He’s thinking the people who wrote them have never been in a relationship before and don’t know what they’re talking about.
Groaning, he leans back and spins himself in circles. It’s not them. Or you. It’s him. He’s the problem. He’s grasping straws, hoping his feelings aren’t one-sided. That he’s not being odd or -wait. Hold on. Is he being a red-flag???
His eyes shot wide open, he rolls himself back to his desk and fills the room again with clicking and tapping. Only for his phone to ring.
“Hey, Tim! Do you want to-”
“Do you think I’m toxic?”
By the end of the phone call, he’s offended. He was asking a genuine question; what did needing sleep have to do with this?
Duke:
He flips to one side. Then to the other. No matter what he does, counting sheep, listening to black out noise, he can’t fall asleep.
One part of him falls for you even harder. Your response was so cool and mature. Like, that’s how he’s going to be treated when the two of you go out. Loyal, couple goal’s commitment from you to him and him to you. There won’t be any drama. No you did, he did, who’s that. A strong, wholesome relationship. Thinking about this part makes him want to start planning how he’d ask you out. Where, what time, flowers or food.
But then there’s the fact that you may have someone you like. Who it is, he wouldn’t be able to know since you won’t express it. What he does know is that he might not have a chance with you. Even if he were to ask you out, you’d reject him. As he thinks about this, he isn’t sure which is worse at the moment: him getting rejected or him not being able to confess from the start.
Grabbing his phone next to him, he considers texting his Batsibs until he remembers: none of them were normal. Slowly he puts his phone back down. Maybe he’ll ask his friends at school. At least he’ll get a somewhat decent advice from them.
Damian:
He thinks you’re lying. It’s part of human nature to feel jealous, especially for romantic reasons. But you don’t feel jealous? Bullcrap.
He angrily scribbles his answers onto the paper, maintaining neat hand-writing as it would be unbecoming for it to look like chicken-scratch (full on shade to Jon everyone in his family other than Alfrend and his father by the way). There’s simply no way you would answer as such unless you truly have feelings for someone. And that fact he doesn’t even know who it might be from how tight lipped you’re being-!
Snap goes his pencil. He bites his lip, frustrated and agitated all over again. He won’t admit to anyone else other than to himself but he has a crush on you. But if you like someone, he doesn’t want to continue harboring them. He has no intentions of getting in your way of happiness or causing pain to you and himself. So why can’t you at least drop a hint or something?
He goes back to working on his homework with the broken pencil until the lead breaks this time. He’s quiet for a second. Then slamming his pencil down, he heads to the Batcave to get ready early. Nothing gets better as he endures teasing during the whole mission. He’s not being broody and it’s not because of a crush!
𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐢 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐭
warnings/info: scaramouche x gn!reader, scaramouche lore spoilers, not proofread very well, ~1k words, fluff, overuse of italics, no other warnings
notes from tori: continuation (prt3) to the husk of opulance miniseries. i am planning on writing a part 4. please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in that!
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 (you are here)
Nights on Yashiori Island were painfully dark. Dark enough to be vulnerable, and yet, Scaramouche had kept your quaint pair so safely hidden while he formulated whatever plan he was concocting. Currently, you were sitting across from the man, orange firelight between you casting deep shadows across his dramatic features, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared intently at you. The pads of his fingers were pressed together in front of his mouth, but despite his contemplative, overall calm posture, you couldn’t resist squirming under his burning gaze. The violet in his irises glowed, reflecting the embers below, and he stared. He stared at your face, studying each curve without expression.
“Kunikuzushi.” You murmured, feeling the need to coax him from his thoughts. Aching to sever the tension before it stirred up the raging thoughts you’d had since that night.
That night.
His hands had been calloused yet delicate against your skin when he slid on your shoes. Like he cared. Perhaps that wasn’t far-fetched at face value, but anyone who knew Scaramouche knew. They knew how monumental such a gesture would be.
Scaramouche didn’t respond to your meek call of his name, and you shivered internally, warmed by the fire and yet so cold within.
“Is everything-”
“At dawn, I will be leaving for a time.” He interrupted matter-of-factly, his words leaving no room for argument. “I will be coming back. You better stay put while I’m gone.”
“What?” You guffawed, your voice barely cutting across the smokescreen. “Where are you going? Why can’t I come?” His eyes narrowed at your interrogation, but he remained otherwise calm.
Keep reading
Dear Darling Rapunzel
────────────୨ৎ────────────
Okay been thinking about this for a while but what about a Damsel in Distress/Repunzel AU with the batboys and rogues. It can go one of two ways.
(The Princess who fell in love with the Dragon)
You're the betrothed of one of the batboys. A darling daughter of a Wayne Enterprises bigshot or some nice rich family. And while you may be indifferent to your future husband, he is very very much devoted to you. Absolutely in love with his precious soon-to-be wife...But after the marriage, the paranoia sets in. He loves you, he swears he does. He loves you so much, in fact, that he even reveals who he is, what he does during the ungodly hours of the night. He doesn't want you to doubt, to think he'd ever cheat with another. But there are precautions he must take to keep you safe. He won't let you out of the manner, won't permit you to make content with anyone outside of his family. Heck, he absolutely forbids you from even going near the doors and windows. But one day when the manner is attacked by some Rogue wanting something or another from the Wayne family. During the attack, this particular rogue spots you, the darling princess locked away within the estate. He's almost instantly in love. Heart fluttering outside his chest. He dubs you collateral damage as he steals you away. Poor little Rapunzel being swept away by the bandit...But funny isn't it how you have (somewhat) more freedom with the deranged killer than with your own husband...
(The Princess and the White Knight)
2. For one reason or another, you catch the attention of one of Gotham's notorious rogues. An infamous killer, whose stone heart now only beats for you. They steal you, lock you away from all humanity. It's because they love you, it's because they know how cruel society can be. They'd never want the world outside to hurt you. But one day while you gaze longingly outside the window dreaming of being free again. You happen to catch the eye of one of the batboys. They become your escape, chatting with you while the evil monster is away. You start to see them as your prince charming. You white knight. Hanging off their every word dreaming of the day you can pry away their mask and gleam at their full face. Whenever your tormentor kisses you, you imagine it's your superhero, all soft lips and hope. All sweet words and caring touches. Soon they promised, soon your prince charming will come to free you…
The only pairing I can think of for this so far is, Bruce Wayne and Harvey Dent. Constantly fighting over the darling they both love with all their broken heart.
Maybe Jason and Roman too? Albit it would be so messy and chaotic😆🤣😆🤣.
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