#sorry for the delay it took a while to post

[bts-trans]

240303 Weverse Translations

RM's Comment 💬 on ARMY's Post ❇️

💜: 남준아 좋은 주말 보내 RM: 좋은 주말 되십쇼 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/2-136865067?anchor=3-282577389

💜: Namjoon-ah, have a nice weekend.

RM: Have a nice weekend

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RM's Comments 💬 on ARMY's Posts ❇️

1.

💜: 밥은 잘 먹고 있어요?? RM: 너무 잘 무서 문제.. https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/1-136878834?anchor=2-275125350

💜: Are you eating well these days?

RM: I'm eating too well, it's a problem..

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2.

💜: 남주나 보고싶구나…. 잘지내?🥺🥺 RM: 언제나 그렇듯 ! https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/2-136865113?anchor=1-275122912

💜: Namjoon, turns out I miss you.... are you doing well?🥺🥺 RM: Same as always !

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3.

💜: 아직 100키로는 준비가 안됏어 오빠 RM: 내 몸이랑 72에서 합의보기로 했어 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/3-154400572?anchor=3-282579532

💜: Not ready for 100kg yet oppa RM: My body and I have reached an agreement and settled on 72kg

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4.

💜: 오빠 최근에 읽은 책 있나요? 책을 읽기 시작하고 싶은데 추천해주실 수 있나요? RM: 언어의 무게 RM: 내다 못 읽었어요.. https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/1-136879294

💜: Have you ready any books lately? I want to start reading, could you recommend something?

RM: The Weight of Words*

RM: I haven't read it either..

(T/N: *'Das Gewicht der Worte' by Pascal Mercier.)

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5.

💜: 보고 싶어요 RM: 아 내 머리 RM: 어제 다 밀어버렸다 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/3-154401673

💜: I miss you

RM: Ahh my hair

RM: I cut it all off yesterday

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6.

💜: 남준쓰 몸무게 세자리 진짜 볼수있을까?ㅋㅋㅋ RM: 곧 운동할 예정 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/1-136879873?anchor=4-282590078

💜: Namjoonss will we actually see your weight reach three digits? hahaha

RM: Planning on working out soon

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7.

💜: 너무 많이 보고싶어 그리워 나는, 아미는 이자리 그대로 가만히 기다릴게 다치지말고 무사히 돌아와. 너의 군대썰 들을 날을 기다린다. RM: 얼마나 재밌을까~ https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/3-154402911?anchor=1-275125643

💜: I miss you so much I truly miss you Me, and ARMY, are going to wait here, in this place we've always been Take care not to get hurt and come back safe. I'm waiting for the day you'll tell us about your stories from the army.

RM: I can imagine how fun it'll be~

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8.

💜: 익숙해지기 많이 힘들죠? RM: 인간은 적응의 동물이랍니다 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/0-136863606?anchor=4-282592323

💜: Getting used to things is pretty hard, right?

RM: They say that humans are creatures of adaptability.

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9.

💜: 오늘의 안주 추천 RM: 세꼬시 슛 ! https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/3-154404759?anchor=4-282593093

💜: Recommendations for snacks to go with drinks please!

RM: Sekkosi shoot!

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10.

💜: 김남준 답장 하나면 편히 죽으면 돼 RM: 제가 불편해요 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/4-154416760?anchor=0-275143384

💜: Just one reply from Kim Namjoon and I can die peacefully

RM: I will not feel peace

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11.

RM's and Jimin's Comments 💬 on ARMY's Post ❇️

💜: 냄준… 얼마나 더 멋있어졌을까…. RM: 늙으면 안되는데 RM: 안티에이징 슛! JM: 안늙어야지 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/3-154406539

💜: Naemjoon… how much cooler you must've gotten….

RM: Gotta make sure I don't age but

RM: Anti-aging shoot!

JM: Gotta stop aging

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12.

RM's Comments 💬 on ARMY's Posts ❇️

💜: 남준이 태형을 잘 관리해야 한다고 하지 않았나요? 하하하 RM: 서른살 어른 알아서 하겠지 RM: 이미 태형이가 절 넘었습니다 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/3-154407874

💜: Didn't Namjoon say that he was going to take care of Taehyung well? Hahaha

RM: He's 30 years old, he's probably doing fine on his own

RM: Taehyungie has already surpassed me

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13.

💜: 남준이는 요즘 살이 쪘니? RM: 69 -> 73 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/0-136866192?anchor=4-282597033

💜: Namjoonie have you gained weight recently?

RM: 69 -> 73

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14.

RM's and Jimin's Comments 💬 on ARMY's Post ❇️

💜: 남준씨가 내 댓글에 답변 달아줄때까지 숨 참을게요 RM: 러브다이브 JM: 숨 안참았을 걸 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/1-136883701?anchor=3-282589904

💜: I'm going to hold my breath until Namjoon-ssi replies to my comment.

RM: Love Dive*

JM: You probably didn't hold your breath

(T/N: *Song by IVE which has the refrain ""hold your breath, love dive"".)

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15.

RM's Comments 💬 on ARMY's Posts ❇️

💜: 안녕하세요 남준오빠, 최근 복무 중 재미있는 일 있었나요? 🤷🤷 RM: 너무 많은데 RM: 언젠가 얘기할 날이.오겠지 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/3-154410453

💜: Hello Namjoon oppa, any fun stories recently from the military? 🤷🤷

RM: There's too many

RM: I'll be able to tell them someday. Probably, right?

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16.

💜: 치팅데이할때 어떤 음식을 먹나요?? RM: 라면좀 끊어야할거같아요 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/3-154411345?anchor=1-275129462

💜: What do you eat on cheat days??

RM: I think I'm gonna have to make some ramyeon.

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17.

💜: 허어어엉 내일부로 진짜 고삼인데 파이팅 한 번 해 줘요 아자잣!!! RM: 허ㅏ이띠이잉 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/3-154412184?anchor=0-275146358

💜: Wahhhhh I'm gonna be a final-year high school student from tomorrow on, please give me some encouragement!!!

RM: Lettsgo oooooo

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18.

💜: 남준아 이번 일요일에 뭐해? RM: 운동하고 연습할 예정 RM: 독서는 언제쯤.. https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/1-136885881

💜: Namjoon-ah, what are you doing this Sunday?

RM: Planning on working out and rehearsing.

RM: Gotta read at some point..

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19.

💜: 냄준오빠... 오랜만인데도 여전히 웃긴사람이네여 오빠가 젤웃김 RM: 웃는자가 일류다 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/4-154427417?anchor=0-275148043

💜: Naemjoon oppa… it's been a while but you're still so funny You're the funniest

RM: The people who laugh are the best

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20.

💜: 남준아 내 포스트 안읽어주면 공주안할끄야 RM: 왕자 슛 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/2-136874216?anchor=1-275132160

💜: Namjoon-ah, if you don't read my post I'm not going to be a princess

RM: Prince, shoot

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21.

💜: 춤을 춰보긴 해요? RM: 그게 가장 걱정인데.. https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/3-154421578?anchor=4-282606647

💜: Do you still dance a bit?

RM: It's the thing that worries me the most…

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22.

💜: 주말은 쉬나요?? RM: 네 RM: 저 여기와서 릴스라는걸 처음 보기ㅜ시작 RM: mz들에게 배운다 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/1-136890030

💜: Do you have time off on weekends??

RM: Yes

RM: I've started watching reels for the first time since I came here

RM: I'm learning from the Gen Zs

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23.

💜: 남준아아아아 보고싶어요즘 어떻게 지내? RM: 다시 연습생 하는 기분 RM: 새롭습니다 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/4-154441111

💜: Namjoon-aaaaaah I miss you how are you these days?

RM: I feel like I'm a trainee again

RM: It's a new experience

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24.

💜: 남준아 요즘 정말 잘생겼어 RM: 언제봤어 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/1-136894665?anchor=4-282613368

💜: Namjoon-ah you're so handsome these days

RM: When did you see me

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25.

💜: 남준 보고싶어요 그리고 소년들 입시를 못해서 좀 아쉽지만 우리와 교류하는 모습을 보니 힘이 나네요 사랑해요 자랑해주셔서 감사합니다 RM: 입시는 언제나 쉽지 않아요 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/2-136881055?anchor=1-275137106

💜: Namjoon I miss you and I'm a bit sad since the members couldn't clear the entrance exam but seeing the things you share with us gives me strength I love you, thank you for showing off*

RM: Entrance exams are never easy

(T/N: *The Korean in the original post was likely translated using an online translator.)

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26.

💜: 눈 깜짝할 사이에 3월이네요 7명을 만나는 날까지 건강해질 수 있도록 노력해야지~ 남준오빠 많이 보고싶어요 잘 먹고 잘 움직이고, 웃는 얼굴로 있기를 바랍니다 RM: 봄이 오고 있습니다 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/3-154434789?anchor=0-275154883

💜: I blinked and it's suddenly March Gotta work hard so that I can be healthy for the day I see all 7~

Namjoon oppa, I miss you a lot I hope you eat well, move well, and ke smiling

RM: Spring is coming

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27.

Jimin's Post ❇️

휴 정말 정말 보고싶네요 매일매일 밤마다 생각합니다 https://weverse.io/bts/artist/3-154442593

Sigh I really really miss you, I think of you every single night

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28.

RM's Comments 💬 on ARMY's Posts ❇️

💜: 오늘은 일본은 히나 축제 🎎 올해는 병아리 인형을 꺼내지 않았지만, 축하에 초밥에서도 먹을까요? 천국에 있는 아줌마도 정말 좋아하는 치라시 스시♡ RM: 아 스시먹고싶어요 RM: 여긴 스시가.. 없..어요 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/2-136886019

💜: It's Hinamatsuri in Japan today🎎 I didn't bring out my baby chick doll today but, shall we eat some sushi to celebrate? The sushi that even the ladies in heaven like - Chirashi sushi♡

RM: Ah I wanna have sushi

RM: There's no.. sushi.. here

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29.

💜: 일병이 된 기분? RM: 아 이제 시작이네... https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/4-154453568?anchor=3-282614821

💜: How does it feel to be a Private?

RM: Ah, so this is the beginning…

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30.

💜: 귀하의 새 프로젝트가 귀하 없이 출시됩니까? RM: 어 뭐랄까 RM: 굉장히 철학적인데 https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/2-136887591

💜: Is sir's new project going to be released without sir?

RM: Hmm how should I put it

RM: It's very philosophical

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31.

Jimin's Post ❇️ with RM's Comment 💬

JM: 결국 시간이 가고 우리는 보고 있겠죠 그날만을 기다립니다. 항상 거기에 있다고 편지 남겨주셔서 고마워요 저도 여기에 있답니다 😪 RM: 시간은 간다  https://weverse.io/bts/artist/3-154451188

JM: Time will pass and we will see each other in the end, right? Im just waiting for that day. Thank you for writing your letters saying that you'll be there. I'm here too 😪

RM: Time does pass

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32.

RM's and Jimin's Comments 💬 on ARMY's Post ❇️

💜: 지민씨 안녕하세요？ 정말 보고싶어💜 RM: 지민��� 바보 RM: 똥개 RM: 멍충이 JM: ;;; https://weverse.io/bts/fanpost/3-154451461

💜: Hello Jimin I really miss you💜

RM: Stupid Jiminie

RM: Poopy head

RM: Idiot

JM: ;;;

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33.

Jimin's Post ❇️ with J-Hope's Comment 💬

JM: 사랑합니다  love you ¡Te amo Je t'aime Ich liebe dich Ti amo Eu te amo Я тебя люблю 我爱你 愛してるSeni seviyorum  Ik hou van jou Jag älskar dig  Σε αγαπώ Minä rakastan sinua Jeg elsker dig Jeg elsker deg Kocham cię Szeretlek Miluji tě Aku cinta kamu Saya cintakan awak ฉันรักเธอ Tôi yêu bạn Mahal kita मैं तुम्हें प्यार करता हूँ Я тебе кохаю Te iubesc те Волим Volim te Ľúbim ťa JH: 통신보안 📞 https://weverse.io/bts/artist/2-136912166?anchor=0-275222026

JM: I love you*

JH: Communications security📞

(T/N: Followed by 'I love you' in English, Spanish, French, Italian, Portuguese, Russian, Japanese, Turkish, Dutch, Swedish, Greek, Finnish, Danish, Norwegian, Polish, Hungarian, Czech, Indonesian, Malay, Thai, Vietnamese, Tagalog, Hindi, Ukrainian, Romanian, Serbian, Croatian, and Slovak.)

Trans cr; Aditi

[darksonofsparda]

A Distress Call In Ruined Chicago

@chronicparagon || Pre-Plotted

Back when the world was still thriving before the Demon Qliphoth Tree destroyed the world and killed about 1.2 Billion People upon its emergence and brought mankind to the closest it's ever been to complete human extinction, according to Dante, the phone at Devil May Cry would ring quite often. However, Vergil doubted it called nearly as much as he claimed. Even in this semi-apocalyptic and shattered new world, Devil May Cry was still in business, his brother just had to relocate and rebuild. Thankfully, his younger brother's new shop wasn't too far from where Vergil called home, an old half-destroyed home that Vergil stumbled upon on a rainy night.

While looking partially destroyed on the outside, the inside of the home was still mostly intact, just missing a few rooms, over time Vergil had gathered resources in between devil-hunting missions to gather material he could use to restore, and fortify the home--which he did, and it was in much better shape thanks to his efforts. Devil May Cry was only twenty blocks from his home, but thanks to Vergil's powers, he had no trouble making the commute since he had been to the location once already, he could picture it in his mind, allowing him to use his trick teleport to it. Without anything else to do today, Vergil had decided to swing by there and check things out.

Doing exactly that, Vergil disappeared in a shade of midnight blue, reappearing inside Devil May Cry--only to find it completely empty. It didn't take long for him to spot the note left on his brother's desk, picking it up, it read:

Hey Verg, if you're reading this, Lady and Trish hooked me up with a good mission, a big job, and I'm not gonna say no to money, should be back in a few days. Pizza's in the fridge. Help yourself, I got a lot.

The older son of Sparda shook his head, no Dante, I don't want your greasy pizza he thought to himself, flicking the note back onto the desk. Turning his back to leave, much to his surprise, the phone started to ring, since there was no one else here, he knew if this was a job, he'd have to take it. Well, at least it would kill his boredom and pay him, so he picked up the phone.

[{ 🗡️ }] - "Devil May Cry. Devil Hunter Vergil speaking, what's the mission?"

The caller is a frantic male soldier, he tells Vergil that there's a squad of resource scavenger soldiers who are pinned down all the way in what was left of Chicago, another place the half-devil had been at before on previous missions. The northwest survivors camp was asking if he could escort one of their skilled medics to the distress call so she could treat them before bringing them back since there were quite a few of them required immediate medical attention with the severity of their injuries which meant, they were on borrowed time.

Vergil accepts and hangs up the phone. Picturing the location, the Cambion teleports, appearing at the gates of the aforementioned camp. The second the guards stationed at the gates spot him, they call down to the others below near the gate where Vergil arrived, the gate was opened not long after. One of the soldiers walked with him, giving him a general quick briefing as he made his way over to the center plaza of the camp. Once he arrived, he was met with the person he was escorting, a beautiful young woman medic, with dark brown hair and striking grey eyes, now that he thought about it, recalled seeing her a few times during his last few visits here.

[{ 🗡️ }] - "You're the medic I presume? I'm Vergil, it seems I'm going to be your escort today."

[{ 🗡️ }] - "While you can rest assured that I will diligently do my duty and keep you safe, it can get a bit dicey out in the badlands, so there's one question I always ask with these types of jobs. Just for a general purpose. Do you have any experience in fighting demons? If not, is there any form of self-defense that you know?"

[steelbluehome]

I'd just like to clarify some things about Senator Cory Booker's marathon Senate speech in protest of the present administration and everything they are doing to the American people.

Senator Booker was NOT allowed to sit down, eat, or use the bathroom during his speech. Sitting or leaving the room to use the bathroom would be considered yielding the floor. Eating would have interfered with his speaking and the person who has the floor must continue to speak, except when listening to questions that they will then answer.

He only took occasional sips of water.

The person who previously held the record for longest speech on the Senate floor did have bathroom breaks and also did things like read from the encyclopedia.

Senator Booker did not do that. His speech was to point out the damage that this administration is doing and he stayed on that subject.

Senator Booker's speech did reach many people. It wasn't a silly stunt that was done so that he could take the record for longest speech. He wanted to show the country that democrats will do something to bring attention to the problems we are facing. That democrats are listening to them.

Senator Cory Booker spoke for 25 hours and 4 minutes to "make good trouble."

ETA Thanks for all of the reblogs and notes! I hadn't wanted to dirty this post with the name of the former holder of the record for longest time holding the Senate floor, but there are a lot of questions.

Senator Strom Thurmond, a segregationist and white supremacist, held the previous record of 24 hours and 18 minutes when he filibustered the vote on the Civil Rights Act.

Sen. Thurmond had someone put a bucket just outside of the doorway to the cloakroom so that he could keep one foot on the floor while pissing into this bucket, to hold the floor.

Senator Booker would never disrespect the Senate, nor "bend the rules" in such a way.

Because of this Sen. Thurmond could drink coffee or anything else he wanted, as much as he wanted, to keep himself awake, soothe his throat, and keep his mouth from becoming dry.

Senator Booker limited himself to a few sips at a time from two glasses of water at the podium.

Also, Sen. Thurmond began his speech immediately before a vote was to be taken and his speech was specifically to delay that vote. That is the definition of a "filibuster".

Senator Booker's speech was not designed to delay or prevent any vote. He did not know how long he would be physically able to speak. Therefore, his was a speech, not a filibuster.

ETA2: Strom Thurmond did also temporarily yield the floor to a colleague and took a bathroom break at that time. He also had some rye bread and hamburger to eat.

Source

ETA3: So sorry about all of these but I need to include just one more thing.

This is the transcript of Strom Thurmond's filibuster

He read the voting laws of all 48 states (this was 1957). He read from a book called "The History of the Jury Trial" speaking for quite some time about things like the justice system of the Anglo-Saxons. He read from other books, he read from the Declaration of Independence, he read from the Constitution. He yielded the floor for someone to be sworn in. All kinds of things about his filibuster made Senator Booker's speech a far superior feat, not just because it lasted longer.

[1d1195]

Buttercup

~7.8k words

From me: I love a knight in shining armor moment. Grumpy sunshine, black cat and golden retriever kind of vibe. There are definitely some details missing on purpose here. Best of luck. Hope you like it 💕 Sorry for the delay in posting. What a week.

Warnings: dick ex-bf - cheating, emotional trauma, threatening. Angry Harry, neighbor Harry, some mentions of sex, a good bit of angst, and some fluff.

Summary: Harry's new neighbor is fun to prank. She just wants to tend to her garden and enjoy her chocolate in peace.

But it's... comforting to know Harry is right next door.

The boys that lived next door weren’t too loud, weren’t super messy, and they were easy on the eyes.

But that was the furthest she could compliment them.

Well, Louis was really lovely overall. He had a girlfriend that came by frequently (almost daily) and appeared to keep him in check. But there was no one to keep Harry in check. He walked around his yard in his boxers, got the mail in them even, and both greeted his sexual partner(s) then sent her on her way off his property the following morning in nothing but boxers as well.

All with a smug smile in her direction while he wore nothing but underwear and the ink etched on his unbelievably smooth skin.

Stupid hot people.

Regardless of what he was doing, he was always sure to irritate her if she was outside. “Hi Buttercup,” he cooed like they were old friends while she worked in her garden. It was clearly her favorite part of the house. It desperately needed a new coat of paint, and she didn’t care in the slightest. The flowers were more important, and she did a good job. Clearing the flowerbeds happened before all her boxes were officially inside her house.

She thought about the day she arrived.

When she moved in, she took a deep breath, pulled her hair into a ponytail and tugged it through the back of a baseball cap. One by one, she pulled a box out of her car and brought it inside. A storage pod was dropped in the driveway as well and then she began the same process after taking a short break while she looked at what she needed to do first. She leaned against her car and felt anxiety and a serious case of being overwhelmed start to fill her chest. She took deep breaths hoping the sugar she ingested would help ease her worried mind.

“Hey, neighbor!” She turned to the voice where a guy with brown hair and blue eyes smiled brightly at her. “I’m Louis, welcome to our neighborhood. It’s nice to meet you. Need help?”

She shook her head quickly. Almost defensive as she aimed to protect herself. “No, I’m alright, thank you.”

Louis glanced at her storage pod and tilted his head at her curiously. It was a lot to unpack on her own.

Metaphorically and literally.

“You’re sure?” He asked. “My roommate saw you from the window. Thought you were... well, not struggling... But it’s a lot to move for anyone. He’s changing, he’ll be right out to help too,” he explained and rubbed the back of his head. “My girlfriend was on the phone and overheard Harry, and she insisted as well.”

She thought that he was nice. A friendly neighbor if there ever was one. But the wall of anxiety she put up and the nerve she was feigning to keep up was battling something fierce. “Right,” she cleared her throat. She would need an ally. There was no one in this new town for her and Louis seemed nice.

Levi seemed nice too... she thought.

Shaking her head she tried to rid herself of the negative outlook. Louis wasn’t Levi. “That... that’s really nice. Thank you. If you’re sure.”

Louis’ best friend and roommate Harry soon joined them. Introduced himself and she sincerely thought they were just two nice guys who would be decent neighbors.

The second they dropped the first load of her stuff safely inside Harry began his pranks. “Is this box labeled underwear up for grabs?”

There was no box labeled underwear. She knew that. But it still made her cheeks burn with embarrassment even though Louis rolled his eyes as if was used to it. Which she supposed he was. “Christ, Harry,” Louis sighed and pinched between his eyes. “I’m sorry, love. We don’t let him out of the house much.”

She looked at him with an eye roll. He was cute. She would give him that.

Well, hot.

Enticing green eyes, sinewy muscles, and a smile so bright it could put the sun to shame. He knew he was hot. There was no way he didn’t. But she wasn’t going to let him get to her.

“Where are y’moving from?” Harry asked.

“Uh...” she shook her head trying to remember what lie she was supposed to say. But then went with most of the truth. “Just upstate, a few hours away. I got a new job and whatnot.”

“New modeling job?”

“Boo...” Louis droned, grumbling as he moved boxes labeled kitchen into the correct room. “If you’re going to embarrass yourself, you could use better material.”

“This is m’best material, Lou,” he scowled at his friend. Her cheeks were still burning at his shameless flirting.

“I know he’s obnoxious, but he’s harmless,” Louis rolled his eyes.

“Excuse you, Louis. M’not obnoxious.”

“The shit you say,” he shook his head.

“I jus’ think you’re gorgeous,” his eyelashes did all the flirting for him when his words stopped.

But whether Harry was flirting or not, she didn’t want to flirt with her neighbor. Didn’t want to have a boyfriend. Certainly not one with all the charisma he had around her.

Even if he was flirty and charming.

And hot.

There was no denying how hot Harry was.

So she would have to be careful.

*

“Looking good, Buttercup.”

She glared at the tulip bulbs she was planting in front of her door for the spring. She adjusted the planters of mums placed on the porch steps. A variety of gold, orange, brown and red. Perfect for fall and the idyllic picture for a magazine cover. There were pumpkins on the side of the bottom step greeting anyone at her home with the pretty festive colors. A cute scarecrow was staked among fake corn stalks and hay beside the pumpkins.

It was unseasonably warm for November but for the last two months, and even though Harry drove her crazy, she wanted to be outside enjoying the sunshine and fresh air while she could. She had listened to Harry’s flirting with her since the moment she moved in. He was blatant about it. But in the same timeframe, she watched him with women coming and going. Of course, it didn’t bother her one bit who he spent his time with; that was his choice, and he had no obligation to her or the women he took home as long as he wasn’t a complete douchebag to them.

But Harry always seemed to be there. He was there when she got her mail. There when she got home from work. There when she was going to work. It didn’t matter. Didn’t he have to work? “Are businesses too intelligent to hire you?”

“No?” He chuckled phrasing it as a question.

“Just assumed, since you’re never at work.”

He snorted. “Funny.” She continued tending to her flowers. “I work from home.”

Perfect. So he would continue to always be there. Some people had all the luck.

He wasn’t in his boxers for a change. An interesting change of pace. He was in a pair of plain jogging pants and a plain T-shirt, yet he was the one that looked like a model for Nike.

Men had it so easy being attractive. A pair of workout pants and a T-shirt that outlined his pectorals way too tightly was all it took to get her flustered.

He sat beside her and watched her work. “Y’should do our garden, next Buttercup. Looks so nice the way y’put everything together.”

She paused and stared at him. His eyes roamed her little planters and across the weedless yard. He smiled at her as his gaze returned to hers. “You’re making fun of me,” she scowled.

“Kitten,” he pressed a hand over his heart, looking affronted. “I would never make fun of you.”

She looked back at the dirt that was under her nails. She focused on the feeling of it rather than the feeling of dread she felt around Harry. He was so confident in himself and in everything he did. It was annoying. His stupid green eyes and his dumb smile. She couldn’t fall for it again. No matter how sincere he sounded.

“Y’look really pretty in y’garden,” his voice was gentle. Like he was worried she was going to throw something at him. She had considered it. Her trowel seemed like it could do some damage. But she was trying not to be completely ridiculous just because Harry was a pain.

And sickening.

And irritating.

And cute.

Fortunately, she had a list of things to remind herself of that he was a nuisance. Not to mention there were his pranks that made her crazy.

He sprayed her with the hose when she wasn’t looking. Sent mail to her house for porn addiction making the mailman look at her with a smirk before she screamed at Harry (which didn’t help the look the mailman was giving her). At the beginning of October, he put a Halloween mask outside her window to scare her when she woke up so terrifyingly that Louis and Eleanor rushed over in their pajamas. While nothing was irreparable or worth putting her into therapy, the jokes made her mad because Harry always made her mad. He was too good looking and too there all the time.

Instead, she continued weeding and planting. Making the previously bare flower beds green and brown with freshly overturned dirt. It was calming. Being in the garden, the yard. Dirt on her hands and the sun on her back.

“Cat got your tongue, Buttercup?” He joked.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“The more y’ignore me, kitten, jus’ makes me want y’more.”

“I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

“Ugh, will you marry me?”

“You’re so ridiculous, Harry.”

“God, y’drive me wild.”

She continued digging in the dirt. “If you’re going to sit there and be annoying, can you at least be useful and hand me the watering can?”

Harry silently grabbed the can and poured the water into the hole, watching her carefully. “I used t’garden with m’Mum.”

“You didn’t just spawn from the ground climbing out of hell?”

Harry chuckled quietly. “No, m’mum’s a saint,” he said with a smile. The fondness in his voice and reverence for her made her heart skip a beat. He was so annoying but that was undoubtedly beyond sweet. Even if it was Harry saying it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult your mother.”

“Y’didn’t. I know what y’meant,” he chuckled. “Mum would like you,” he told her. Which absolutely terrified her because mothers often did. It made things more complicated. Like it had in the past.

“She would like me? I’m an absolute bitch to you, Harry.”

“Hey,” he frowned. “Don’t say that,” the sincerity in his voice continued making her throat catch on any rebuttal she wanted to say in return. The pucker of skin between his eyebrows made her want to reach out and smooth his skin. His frown made her sad too. Before she could push the feeling away, he spoke again. “You’re funny. Stubborn. Adorable. Mum would like that y’keep me grounded,” he complimented.

“Keeping you grounded is the nice way of saying bitchy.”

He sighed, irritation practically rolling off him in waves. That was new. “Seriously, kitten. Knock it off,” he shook his head disappointedly.

She blinked, surprised by the genuine tone. “You’re serious?”

“Jus’ because y’say it ‘bout yourself doesn’t make it better.”

For a whole minute she seriously thought about how easy it would be to fall for Harry. He was handsome, intelligent, kind, and funny. Even if he was obnoxious. Louis and Eleanor kept him around for a reason, right? For God’s sake he wouldn’t let her call herself a bitch. Who did that?! “Um... sorry?”

“Apology not accepted. You’ll have t’go on a date with me. S’the only way t’make it up t’me.”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the bulbs she was planting. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Alright fine; I’ll jus’ have t’think of something else,” he sighed, pausing, like he was really thinking about how she could make it up to him.

Then he smeared a clod of cold, wet dirt across her cheek.

She spluttered trying to avoid dirt in her mouth and reached out to smack him. However, he was nearly giggling, practically running back to his house before she could register what really happened and retaliate. “See y’later, Buttercup!” He called.

*

One of Harry’s ongoing pranks involved slipping his phone number into her contacts early on when he met her. It happened shortly after she moved in, and it allowed him to send her memes and inappropriate messages (not the kind of unsolicited messages that only complete dicks sent to women who did not want them) but the ones that he found on the internet. Inappropriate jokes. Innuendos.

But he also texted her when he was heading to the grocery store to see if she needed anything. But in the time that they exchanged messages, she never started the conversations. It was always a Leave me alone Harry. No thank you. Can you stop staring out the window like a creep? If she needed something she asked Louis, which honestly upset him to a degree, but he understood. Harry came on strong when he met her. Not that he would change that, but it wasn’t unreasonable of her to feel standoffish to him.

God, was she beautiful. Harry loved seeing her in the yard. Made it a point to drop everything he was doing and go get a closer look. He was drawn to her. Moth to a flame. The whole bit. She was so funny, even when she was grumpy. He wasn’t joking when he told her that her ignoring him made him want her more.

She was a hard worker and left early in the morning and returned well into dinner time. While the weather was nice, she would sit on her porch and read or work tirelessly on her perfect garden. She was lovely. Harry could see it from afar and he was bummed she didn’t catch on to his shameless flirting the way he had hoped when he first saw her.

One of these days I’d like you to text me instead of Louis when you need something. Louis already has a girlfriend.

From the looks of it you have PLENTY of options for a girlfriend.

Jealous?

Of getting a disease? No. I’m good.

Your green thumb is spreading, Buttercup. It’s not your color.

You can ignore me all you want. Just think about it. It doesn’t have to be a thing. I just want you to know I’m happy to help you if you need it. Not just Louis.

Also, I’m clean in case you ever want to explore that side of things too 😉

Surprisingly, she ignored that message too.

*

Harry felt like he was going through withdrawals from her. He hadn’t even seen her in the yard. Between the rain and their work schedules, it was like he couldn’t get a glimpse of her pretty being tending to the weeds, reading her book, or anything. His joke asking her what she plays with at night that also vibrates went unanswered.

Maybe he should have stopped sending her inappropriate jokes, but the fact she hadn’t blocked him gave him the shred of hope he desperately wanted. Maybe if she had blocked him it would get through his head that she was out of his league, and she wasn’t interested.

I’m heading home to shower, change, and then I’ll come grab you. It was Niall though, and not her reply to his joke.

Harry put cologne on and settled in the living room quietly scrolling through his social media looking at the time stamp from his message, almost a whole day ago. Frowning, he returned to scrolling and waiting for Niall. Not thinking much of anything of merit as he did.

But then that little notification slid from the top of his phone making his heart bounce with excitement.

Harry, are you home?

Is it finally happening?! 😍

There was no response and Harry thought he ruined their moment. Even if he believed her when she said they would never sleep together, he was glad she was talking to him. He was worried his latest prank had gone too far.

Harry’s car was in the garage, and he had almost every light off since he was leaving soon, so it was a fair question since she couldn’t see the back of his house where he was hiding in his room.

I was kidding, Buttercup. I’m home. You could have just come over to ask though.

There was still no response, but he kept his phone in hand waiting and holding his breath. Hoping something would come through from her again.

Pick some flowers from my yard.

Come knock on the door like we’re supposed to be going on a date.

Please.

And hurry.

Please.

What?

...?

Kitten...what’s wrong?

He tried calling her immediately, but it went right to voicemail, like she had turned her phone off after sending her last message.

What the hell. Why aren’t you answering your phone?

This isn’t funny, Buttercup...

You’re making me nervous.

If this was a retaliation prank it went way too far. Way further than putting the mini popping firecrackers under her tires before she left for work. The very one that got her so mad, he thought she was going to call the cops finally. The one that made her ignore him for days on end despite the messages he sent.

But this wasn’t funny. Not even a little. Her safety and security weren’t things Harry liked to joke about because despite everything, he was possessive about her. And frankly, he adored her. Even if she wasn’t his to obsess over nor adore.

But he wasn’t going to ignore her any longer than he had to. He nearly sprinted out the door, swiping randomly at her pretty flowers and feeling horrible that he was pulling her precious plants after all the hard work she put into them. It seemed silly to spend time doing this, but he didn’t want to fuck up what she asked him to do. Not when her messages seemed so worrisome. Not when she didn’t answer. With a fresh bouquet in hand, he hurried to the front door. Fortunately, he was dressed for a night out. Niall would be on his way to pick him up; so, he was, in theory, date ready. But the thought of being with Niall and not home when she needed him terrified him further. Thank God he was home.

Harry had no idea what was on the other side of her door, but it was embarrassingly late in the moment that he realized there was a car in the driveway he hadn’t seen before. At once he realized she never had company. Which only made him even more anxious.

Swallowing, he knocked firmly.

The door flew open within ten seconds of his knock. The relief in her eyes made Harry feel sick. What was she so nervous about? What could make her that nervous, that seeing him made her at ease? She was constantly irritated by his presence. The moment only made him feel worse. “Harry, right on time,” she smiled sweetly. She was a good actress. If she hadn’t texted Harry so urgently, he wouldn’t be looking for signs of trouble, wouldn’t see the relief in her eyes, and he would have no idea that something was wrong.

“Hi kitten, don’t y’look beautiful,” he cooed leaning down to press a kiss to her cheekbone as if he had done it a thousand times before. Gratefully, he had imagined it about a thousand times, so it probably looked as natural as it felt. Plus, she was beautiful. Always. The acting came naturally to him as well. His arm wrapped around her waist in the same movement instinctively. His eyes fell to the man standing a few feet back watching her like a hawk. His gaze was territorial and possessive; Harry didn’t care for that at all. Even if she wasn’t Harry’s, she definitely wasn’t his either.

But Harry was possessive, and he was there because she asked him to be there. Something he got the feeling the other man did not have permission for. He knew he shouldn’t have felt possessive of her, but he would pretend all the same if it meant the worry in her eyes would go away.

He handed her the bouquet he plucked only moments before and threaded their fingers together; another movement that felt like he had done before and not for the very first time that second. “Let’s get a vase,” he suggested and kept his eyes on him. It wasn’t lost on him how easily her fingers fit between his, the way their palms touched, or how her grip tightened ever so slightly when she settled her grip in his. “Hey,” he nodded his head in greeting.

The guy ignored Harry. His eyes glaring at the pretty girl beside him. “You’re seriously telling me you’ve been dating this guy since the moment you moved in?”

Her cheeks burned red, and Harry kissed the top of her head tucking her toward his chest protectively. Harry didn’t care for it at all. If the anxiety in her texts, expressions, and body language wasn’t enough evidence, then the way she leaned further into his chest despite everything and how annoyed she was by him, certainly was. “M’Harry,” his voice was firm. Pointed. “And you are?”

He grunted, shook his head. “The fuck, babe?” He snapped. She didn’t respond, simply glanced up to meet Harry’s gaze. She blinked unsurely at Harry, unable to find her next move. Harry nudged her gently toward the kitchen.

“Do y’have a name or what?” Harry grumbled over his shoulder as he made a show of caressing her while she found a vase. Her hands were shaking slightly as she placed the vase in the sink. Fortunately, Harry saw it immediately and tugged the glass from her grip, pulling her hand back in his. Even if it was impractical and stupid looking while he placed the vase with one hand in her sink to finish what she was doing.

“Levi,” he snapped. “We apparently used to date.”

Harry felt her body deflate. He wondered why. Was it the prospect of dating this asshole? Was it the phrase used to? What happened before he got here?

“Well, Levi, glad we’re on the same page and you’re using the past tense. M’here t’take my girlfriend on a date,” he pressed his body around hers, bracketing her body against the sink. She kept her eyes down, away from Levi’s gaze. Her body felt so warm against his it made him wish this wasn’t for show. Instead, he bent down to kiss the crook of her neck and shoulder hoping she wouldn’t hate him later over it.

He was really into pretending. She squeezed his hands that were wrapped around hers against the edge of counter. Was that a thanks? Was that a sigh he imagined when he kissed her skin? God, she smelled good.

“M’not sure exactly what’s going on here, but m’getting a good sense that she doesn’t want y’here. So maybe s’a good time t’go before I have t’escort y’out of the house.”

He snorted and shook his head. He glared at Harry as he spoke, but her eyes were still cast down toward the sink. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re playing at, babe. You can try and fool me all you want. But I’m not stupid. I’ll come back when your boyfriend isn’t around,” he left the kitchen and slammed her front door shut as he exited. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Begrudgingly, he left her by the sink and went to the front door, peering out the small window right next to the frame. He watched while Levi pulled out of her driveway and down the road. Harry stood and watched, waiting for the sound of his car to completely disappear before he felt he wasn’t coming back any time soon. Harry locked her deadbolt.

“Who was that—” He started as he turned back for the kitchen, but his heart practically broke at the sight of his stubborn, fearless, and utterly pretty neighbor teary eyed and shaken to the core. She left the kitchen near silently it seemed but stopped in the hall right before the entryway of the front door. He didn’t even hear her approach. “Hey,” he cooed coming closer. “Buttercup,” he frowned when she didn’t respond to her nickname. “Hey,” it was like he was approaching a wounded, wild animal. He didn’t want to scare her, but God did he want to protect her. God, did he want to hold her again. “Love, he’s gone. I—” He wanted to reach out for her and pull her into his embrace again, but something about her looked off. The anxiety written all over her face made him nervous and sad.

He zoned in on her hands; they were shaking by her sides worse than the way she held the vase. Her eyes were so fucking sad looking Harry wanted to scream. “Kitten,” he tried again. “Can I...?” He reached for her again. “M’not going to...” all his sentences were half finished as he tried to figure out why the fuck Levi scared her so badly. All he wanted was to comfort her. She was too sweet and pretty to look so terrified. When she never looked scared of anything. “Buttercup,” he murmured again.

She sniffled and swiped at her eyes. “I’m fine,” but her voice was barely audible over the sound of it getting caught around the emotion in her throat.

“Hey, s’okay t’not be okay. M’here,” he promised holding his hands out to her. “Can I touch you?” He asked. She shook her head quickly. It hurt like hell for her to say no. Harry thought he was seriously going to cry. “Okay, okay,” he stuffed his hands in his pockets because he didn’t trust himself not to try and comfort her and the last thing that he ever wanted to do was break her trust and consent. “Baby, you’re breaking my heart,” he pouted and watched as she was starting to shake like she was in the middle of a blizzard without a coat. “Come sit,” he begged. “Please.”

She obeyed and Harry went to her kitchen and found a glass in the cabinet as if this was his own house. He got water from the dispenser on her fridge, and he brought it to her. Her hands were still shaking violently, and her tears were flowing but not a sound other than a quiet sniffle left her. “Here, Buttercup,” he mumbled.

She sniveled and wiped her eyes as she took the cup from him. He avoided brushing her fingers with his and he paced in front of the coffee table. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he caught sight of the time. “Fuck,” he muttered. Pressing the phone to his ear he glanced out the window. “Sorry Niall. Can’t come out,” he ran a hand on the back of his head. She perked up at his words.

“Harry,” she whispered.

“No... I don’t know.... I just need t’be here for her,” he mumbled.

“Harry, you don’t—”

He silenced her with a look while her words died in her throat with another little whimper. Being vulnerable was hard for her. Obviously. Harry wondered if she knew how difficult it was for him to watch her look so upset and scared and not comfort her. If he knew letting go of her in the kitchen meant he wouldn’t get to touch her again, he wouldn’t have let go to start.

He hung up without hearing Niall’s response and he put his phone in his back pocket.

“If you have plans—”

“I don’t,” he interrupted shaking his head quickly. “Jus’ a date with a pretty girl,” he sat across from her on the coffee table making sure that not even his knee bumped against her. His eyes were following her every breath. Every tiny movement and flinch. The nervousness he felt was painful. Waiting for something to make sense. The water in her glass rippled and practically splashed over the side from how hard she was shaking. Harry wanted nothing more than to take it from her grip. But instead, he patiently waited until she sipped it.

“I’m okay,” her voice was nothing more than air. Even if it wasn’t, Harry wouldn’t believe her.

“Baby,” he frowned. “No one sends a message like that if they’re not worried about their safety. I’m worried ‘bout your safety. So don’t pretend t’be okay if you’re not. I’ll stay all night, sitting right here, and stare at you.”

She snorted. “That sounds like watching paint dry.”

He shrugged. “You’re far more interesting and prettier than paint drying.”

She swiped at her eyes again looking at her lap. “He cheated on me.”

“What a fucking moron,” he mumbled and tilted his head at the ceiling. Harry would never understand how the luckiest men in the world treated lovely, beautiful girls like her as if they were nothing. “He wants y’back?”

She shrugged, shook her head, and nodded. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want him back?”

She whimpered and shook her head. Squeezing her eyes shut so tight, he worried she was going to split open her lids. “God, no,” she whispered.

Harry sighed, rubbed his palms on his thighs. “Can y’talk t’me, kitten? M’not leaving unless y’tell me to. Do y’want me t’leave?” It would kill him. Sincerely, truly kill him. But if she didn’t want him there, he would go.

“I can’t,” she was sobbing. It was killing him. It hurt so much not to hold her and comfort her.

“Okay, okay. I’ll... I’ll jus’... go back t’my house... Yeah? If y’need something, jus’...” he rubbed a hand over his face feeling like he was walking on a bed of glass saying the words. “Call, text, throw rocks at m’window,” he stood, mindful to not bump her knee. He smiled weakly at his own joke. It wasn’t returned. He didn’t know what to do or say. He didn’t know how to help the sweet, lovely girl. The smile fell from his lips when she didn’t respond. “Jus’... lock the door behind me, Buttercup, yeah?”

It felt like he was walking toward his death, but he left her living room and waited until he heard her deadbolt lock before he descended her porch steps.

*

She dropped the glass of water Harry gave her in the kitchen after she let Harry leave. It shattered into a million microscopic pieces and the flowers from her garden looked so unbelievably pretty she wished Harry really was taking her on a date.

She covered her mouth around another broken sob. Her eyes felt red and raw, and the pressure of her sinuses and the front of her forehead ached beyond words. She was safe. She was okay. But her chest hurt.

Levi was gone. Harry came to her rescue. After she was mean and grumpy toward him. Trying to protect her heart after it hurt six ways to Sunday because of the man that let himself into her home without permission. Harry didn’t even try to touch her without permission. She could tell he wanted to. Hell, she wanted him to... but everything hurt, and she was just so scared.

Maybe it was too late. But she needed him. Really needed Harry to hold her and comfort her. Her mind ran rampant with thoughts of how lovely it was to be held by him. The kiss on her skin. He was warm and solid. Safe. That’s what she wanted. To feel safe. Her heart ached with want.

Immediately after the thought of his warm solid body around hers, she raced out of the kitchen and unlocked her door. She was ready to fly down the steps of her porch, cross her yard and his hoping he would have the door open before she even arrived.

But Harry was already there; at the bottom of the third and final step of her porch.

He never even left.

Harry stood and turned as soon as he heard the deadbolt open, standing only seconds before she was ready to blow right past him. “Oh, thank God,” he whispered to himself.

Without any more pause, she was in his embrace. Her arms around his neck and she sobbed openly into his shoulder. His hands felt so big and safe on her body, just as she predicted.

He hummed something into her hair. Something like “M’here,” in his gravelly, pretty voice. “I have you,” he soothed. “Oh kitten, m’so sorry,” his voice sounded like he wanted to cry as much as she was. Poor Harry. He didn’t deserve to feel so sad. Not because of her and her messed up life. “C’mon, Buttercup,” he scooped behind her knees and cradled her as he carried her back inside to her sofa, locking the door behind them as he entered.

“Don’t leave me, please,” she begged, sniffling into his shirt.

“Never, baby. Never, ever, ever,” he promised rubbing her back. “Not unless y’ask.”

Her lower lip wobbled. “But I will ask,” she sniffed. “Because I’m too much. I’m sad, scared, broken, and damaged.”

“Y’not any of those things, kitten. Certainly not damaged, Buttercup.”

“But I am,” she whimpered. “You have no idea. He messed me up so bad... and I... I don’t,” she choked. “I pushed you away already.”

It wasn’t much, but the little bit she opened up her heart to him meant the world to him. It was almost as good as holding her. But nothing could replace that feeling now that he had it. He stroked her face with the back of his hand. “I wasn’t far,” he shrugged.

He didn’t even leave her porch. Was he going to stay out there all night? Her heart felt achy, and her eyes were already raw with tears but if they weren’t she would have cried at the thought of her obnoxious neighbor sleeping on the bottom step of her porch in the cold all because she was broken.

“You just wanted to help, and touch and hold me, and I wouldn’t let you—”

“Kitten,” he said sternly. He cupped below her jaw and stared right into her pupils like he was speaking directly to her soul. “Let’s get one thing very clear. I will never touch you without permission. No one has any right t’touch you unless y’ask.”

A sob escaped her throat and then she buried her face against his chest. His body was so broad and warm. She imagined if they were without heat or power, she would still be warm. “But I want you to touch me. All the time. Every second I’m around you,” there was no use denying it. Not when she couldn’t lift her face from his shirt.

Harry sighed with relief. “Well good,” he squeezed her affectionately. “Baby,” he stroked his thumb below her eye. “What happened?”

She shivered and Harry pulled the blanket that was on the back of her sofa over them. Her personality was huge and beautiful. She invaded Harry’s every thought. In the same room, she was in every air particle. Outside in her garden she was every little piece of dirt, petal, stem, root and all. She was larger than life.

It killed him she felt so small in his arms.

“I knew he was cheating, and he didn’t want me to leave,” she sniffed. Harry nodded, his teeth ground together. His jaw tensed. Waiting for her to continue. “He said I was overreacting. Our relationship was stale, and we just needed something to spice things up.”

She turned her face to his shirt and Harry cupped the back of her head, his fingers sliding and massaging his fingertips against the back of her skull. “He’s an idiot, Buttercup. A stupid, idiotic, horrible excuse for a man,” he grumbled.

She swallowed and didn’t say anything for a few moments. Harry holding her felt like medicine was sinking into her skin and directly into her bloodstream. Harry didn’t force her to speak. He didn’t ask questions. He just held her. She was sure he wanted to know more. Wanted to know all the gritty details that resulted in her moving in the middle of the night and finding this house next to his.

But there was only one thing she could think about.

“Why do you call me Buttercup?” She whispered.

Harry didn’t answer for several seconds. His free hand was on the small of her back, pressing gently to get her frame even closer to his. “Can I kiss right here?” He asked ignoring her question. He brushed his thumb along her temple. She nodded and Harry followed the brush of his thumb with his lips.

“That’s nice,” she murmured.

He chuckled. “Jus’ wait ‘til y’get a real kiss,” he promised. “Gonna make y’fall in love with me.”

She didn’t want to tell him she already had because that seemed ridiculous. So ridiculous it made her a little breathless. “That good hmm?” She hummed.

“Never had a complaint.”

“That’s obvious,” she smirked.

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t sleep with all of them.”

“Not my business.”

“But it is... M’a gentleman first, kitten. Mum taught me well. I just like t’make m’date feel good,” he explained. “Doesn’t always include... y’know,” he shrugged one shoulder. “I know I drove y’crazy walking them out in m’boxers.”

“No, you didn’t,” she lied.

He chuckled. “S’okay t’admit it, kitten; don’t know what I would have done if y’had someone over and flaunted a date in jus’ your underwear.”

“You were trying to make me jealous?”

“I didn’t think y’were that stubborn.”

She wasn’t sure if Harry was avoiding her question or trying to distract her, but she still wanted an answer. “Why?” She asked quietly again.

“Why what?”

“Why do you call me buttercup?”

He sighed, kissed her temple again turning her insides warm and mushy. He didn’t speak for a few seconds like he didn’t really want to tell her. “Y’were eating a peanut buttercup,” he mumbled. “When y’moved in. Y’have wrappers all over the floor of y’car. On Halloween, y’didn’t pass out any of them, but I saw them in the grocery bags I carried in for you one time.”

She bit her lip wondering how she didn’t put it together. It was incredible he noticed that. “They’re my favorite,” her voice no more than air once more.

“And you’re mine,” he assured her, cupping the side of her face. “M’not going t’let him hurt you. I’ll break every bone in his body and mine if I have to.”

She blushed. “You don’t have to—”

“Buttercup, m’not joking,” he said cutting off her protest. “Y’don’t have t’be scared because m’never going t’let him get close t’you ever again,” he promised.

“He just said he was going to... wait until you leave, Harry. You can’t promise that.”

“Guess I won’t leave. Or you’ll have t’come home with me.”

“Harry,” she croaked.

“Kitten, m’not messing around with y’safety,” he reminded her. “I can stay here on the couch and y’can stay in your bed. It doesn’t have t’be a thing. M’staying t’keep y’safe. Don’t read into it if y’don’t want to.”

But she wanted to read into it. God, did she want to. Harry dropped everything the moment she texted him from the bathroom in a panic. He was only next door. Didn’t she want to believe all his pranks were his way of flirting? Didn’t she want to believe he liked her more than just annoying her?

She swallowed like there was something stuck in her throat. He didn’t deserve a mess. He deserved one of the effortlessly beautiful girls that he brought home. The kind that knew how to curl their own hair and where to draw the contour lines when they did their makeup. “You don’t have to stay,” she shook her head.

“Kitten,” he tutted.

“No seriously—”

“You’re deflecting, baby.”

“I’m just—”

“Buttercup,” Harry’s hands felt so warm and perfect against her skin. He brought his other hand to her bare cheek. It looked like he was trying not to cry himself when she met his gaze. “You just told me y’would try t’push me away. I don’t want t’go. But I will. I’ll sleep on your porch if y’want me too,” he offered. “Please,” he whispered quietly. Gently, like he was worried he was going to scare her. “Don’t ask me t’leave you.”

There was a long pause. “Stay,” she murmured into his hand. Because she was too exhausted and scared to tell him to leave. Pressing her lips against his palm, she met his gaze and watched the hope bloom in his eyes with just one little word. “Please... please stay.”

Harry sighed with relief, pulling her tightly toward him and nodding. “Course, Buttercup. Of course.”

*

It had become routine. She arrived home from work, and there was Harry. Sitting on the bottom step of her porch. He waited for her while she gathered her belongings from her car. His smile was so stunning. Like a streetlight on a dark road. Bright, beautiful, and all for her. “Hey Buttercup,” he hummed as she approached. He stood and pulled the bag off her shoulder and carried it for her. It wasn’t even heavy. In the same movement, he pecked her cheek and pressed a hand to her lower back like he had done for the last six weeks since he started seeing her exclusively. Not a single girl with perfectly curled hair had been his driveway. No one with expertly contoured makeup. Harry stopped walking around his yard in his boxers (but now she wished he did it more). As he guided her toward the front door, he continued grinning like an idiot. “Did your day get better after lunch, kitten?”

She nodded, his encouraging text sent at lunchtime was meant to ease the frustration he could sense through her messages. It wasn’t lost on him that as much as he used to enjoy her frustration, he wanted nothing more than to ease it now. “M-hmm,” she smiled at him. “You?”

“Better now that you’re home.”

She rolled her eyes at him because while he stopped pranking her so much, he replaced it with the cheesiest thoughts and lines known to man. But there was no denying how it made her heart flutter. “Did you want to go out to eat?” She asked.

He shrugged, then nodded. “We can if y’want.”

“I don’t really feel like cooking.”

“Me either.”

“Let me change and we’ll go.” Harry was looking at her strangely. The kind of face he made when he pulled pranks on her before he officially swept her off her feet. Maybe she was wrong, and the pranks were coming back.

Maybe there were those mini firecrackers under her toilet seat. “What?”

“Nothing, jus’... think y’look pretty,” his smile was too devilish (and handsome). He knew what he was doing. she shook her head and snorted. But Harry saw the way her cheeks turned pink at the compliment. He watched her head to her bedroom. When she stopped in the doorway, his smile bloomed. Her pause to look at her room as if it wasn’t hers made his heart skip a beat. “S’matter, Buttercup?”

“There are like a hundred peanut butter cups on my bed,” she told him. Like he didn’t already know. Orange wrappers lined up in the shape of a heart along her bed spread.

“107, actually,” She turned to look at him. He shrugged. “It would have 110, but I needed a snack.”

She wanted to smile. But her heart was beating fast, her emotions overwhelming her. She bit the inside of her lip. “Why?”

“Y’said y’were having a bad day.”

Her lip felt raw from biting it, behind her eyes prickled with tears. “Oh.”

“S’nice? Yeah?” He wondered and made his way to her, putting his hand on her lower back. He kissed her temple. “Kitten?” She nodded and turned her head toward him, hiding her face against his shoulder and trying to quell the emotion that was threatening to come out of her. “Hey, s’wrong, Buttercup?” He frowned. “Do y’want t’order take away instead?” He rubbed her arm soothingly.

She shook her head, then nodded, followed by a shrug. “I don’t know,” she sniffed.

“Aw, baby, don’t cry,” he hummed. “S’okay,” he reassured her. He didn’t even know why she needed reassurance. “S’jus’ some candy.” She sniffled again and Harry kissed the top of her hair. “M’gonna make sure y’feel good all the time, Buttercup,” he promised.

Her chest felt so overwhelmingly warm and achy in the best way. She nodded against him wishing she could tuck herself further into his strong body where she felt like nothing bad could happen. The change in relationship was a lot to absorb. But it was easy in a lot of ways. Harry was sweeter than she ever imagined he could be. Or maybe she was biased now that she got kisses, and he held her like she was the most precious thing he had ever touched. It killed her in hindsight how standoffish she had been to him. The thought of ignoring him made her feel sick to her stomach.

“I think you really will,” she mumbled into his shirt. He chuckled, kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, Harry,” she whispered.

“Y’never have to thank me, kitten,” he shrugged. “Sorry I was so annoying.”

“I suppose it worked,” she sniffed.

He chuckled. “I knew it would.”

“You did not.”

“I did so,” he said petulantly. “Or I hoped it would.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t know why you would want someone so mean.”

“Jus’ makes me want y’more,” he joked and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. “M’gonna kiss y’now, kitten,” his way of warning her and asking for permission. It hurt that he felt he had to ask. But Harry was nothing if not thorough and sure in asking for her consent.

“Don’t ever stop,” she sighed dreamily.

He chuckled again and leaned in to follow his promise. “M’pleasure, Buttercup.”

--

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[k0mmari]

SYSTEM! SHEN YUAN AU (Pt.2)

Pt.1

Im not done with this, so to the people that wanted more, here it is! I, fortunately or not, have thought way too much again, so once more this is going to be a very, very, VERY long post. If you guys have any ideas about this btw, please do share them! I really am just letting my mind wander a bit more than usual, so maybe someone else can have more structured thoughts than me lol. (Fair warning, there probably will be plot holes, so sorry in advance!)

Please read Pt.1 if you haven't, or this won't make any sense!

After SY warped away from his impromptu meeting with Binghe, the last place he would like to end up would be even deeper into the Endless Abyss, but according to his System, the next piece of the virus was here. While not happy, since his Personal System was (mostly) working as intended, SY managed to activate Ghost Mode and walk towards the next part without having to deal with any of the creatures down there. (He had to try very hard not to get distracted by the monsters, lest his supervisor thinks he also went missing.)

It takes considerably more time to find the virus this time, so much in fact, SY starts to recognize his surroundings from SQH's ramblings (not that he was interested or anything), and he feels a cold sense of dread running down his spine. There was no way he was that unlucky that the object that got corrupted this time was-

He was that unlocky. Lo and behold, after entering a run down ruin, SY is faced with the legendary Xin Mo, power so overwhelming it manifested as dark fire covering the blade. The only reason why SY wasn't immediately writhing on the ground from the sword's power was Ghost Mode, which he could not rely for too long, as his Personal System was displaying warning after warning about Possibility of Corruption and God Like Plot Point. It all meant that SY was on a timer, and if he took too long, the sword would start corrupting his System, which in turn could corrupt him.

Now, since this was a VERY important Plot Point, Luo Binghe had to find Xin Mo or else the plot would derail to an unfixable degree, SY couldn't just snip at it, which was a problem, since manual debugging took a considerably longer time! Still, he summons his Scissors and positions it so he can start at least trimming off the virus.

His plan immediately backfires however, as an ominous crack sounds through the air and he's suddenly pushed away from the sword by a gust of energy. A bit disoriented, he shakes his head and acesses the sit-

Xin Mo, the horrible sword it was, was apparently so OP that it seemed to detect the Scissors at the last second, and the thing attacked back! The metal of the Scissors was dark and broken where it came close to the sword, almost broken in half! Which, not good! It any other time, a pair of broken Debugging Sheers would be more or less fine, if not a major inconvinience (and pay deduction) for SY, but since he'd been warping all over the time for a while now, his Personal System's energy reserves were carefully rationed, and if he were to use a chunk to send the Scissors back for some emergency repair, he'd only have one chance to go back to HQ. Alone.

He couldn't delay it any longer, he desperately needed to find SQH and pray he still had some energy reserves left.

Setting his Personal System's next warp location to SQH's last known location, SY wouldn't have guessed in a million years that he would go back to Cang Qiong Mountain, but whatever; maybe SQH had wanted to start with fixing the bug on Binghe's pendant? Not that this was the right time since it was after Binghe fell into the Abyss, but SQH had never been good at warping. It takes a bit of wandering and going inside different buildings, but eventually his Personal System managed to get a dirrect ping on SQH's System, which sent a massive wave of relief rushing through SY, since it meant that SQH was still slive.

Though as to why he was at An Ding Peak, SY could only guess.

After a bit more wandering, SY enters on what seems to be a (very messy) office space, SY feels all the pieces coming together in his mind. Half sprawled across the table with piles of paper covering the entire table's surface lay the An Ding Peak Lord, which- was already weird, since wasn't this guy supposed to be an enemy of the Peak now? After the whole betrayal thing or whatever? But that would've been something to look into later, were it not for said Peak Lord casually scrolling through a Personal System screen. A Personal System that could only be used by the System's Maintanence Staff.

SY wastes no time in deactivating Ghost Mode, and when SQH's eyes snap to his, the man jumps so high from his chair he almost falls back. It's not a happy reunion by a longshot, since SY immediately jumped his friend co-worker and demanded an explaination, almost screaming about it was all his fault for doing shitty maintenence, and creating this shitty world if it's shitty OP sword which broke his Sheers? Do you know how expensive these are?? I know you do, cause the supervisor never lets you touch the good ones cause you keep cracking all the other pairs-

It takes a more or less one whole hour to calm down SY, but eventually the younger settled and lets SQH say his bit of the story: Apparently, in his messing around with the System's world creation program when he was trying to find the bug in his world, he'd accidentaly managed to get himself actually transmigrated to PIDW, though still with (limited) acess to his Personal System, which let him still send messages to their supervisor and pretend that everything was ok. He'd gotten so unlucky too! Out of all the people to accidentaly select, did it have to be the An Ding Peak Lord? Couldn't it have been Binghe? Or MBJ- (SQH cuts his lamenting when he notices SY's absolutely viscious death glare being stared right through his soul.)

Long story short, he'd initially did try to fix his blunder, but as more time passed and SQH's access to Maintenance priviledges went out one by one on his System, he eventually just... Started actually living there. In fact, he was living so well there that he dared say his life as Peak Lord was even better then when he was with the System! Of course, since he had been integrated as a 'character' now, he had his limitations, he actually managed to get to know his fellow peak lords! He knew the name of his character's family members and his disciples! He'd managed to build a life he never even thought he could have inside the System.

Sure, did he betray the Peak? Yes, yes he did. Were they all going to die in a few years time when Binghe came back from hell? Yeah, yeah they were, and he was immensely guilty and terrified, but! The plot could be changed! He already assumed someone from the System had popped up in the Conference, as when Binghe had recently made his alliance with MBJ, and had mentioned in passing this weird thing that had happened to him just before he fell into the Abyss.

Anyways, eventually SY begrudgingly accepts SQH's decision to stay in PIDW, but he still had to help SY; and so they form a plan: SY was going to transfer some energy to SQH so he could temporarily get his acess to the full version of his Personal System and use his energy reserves to send SY's Sheers and get them fixed. SQH was also going to properly apologize to their supervisor for suddenly quitting without notice AND order some more energy stacks to be sent to SY's System. SY on the other hand had devises a plan to get closer to XIn Mo without the sword exploding his face off:

Infiltrate Demon Emperor Luo Binghe's palace as a lowly staff member and slowly debug the sword from the inside.

A perfect plan! What could go wrong?

SY selects to warp to a time where Binghe had Xin Mo mostly in control, so it is to no surprise he warps to a place were the Demonic Emperor's Palace is absolutely filled with women. Not the best situation, since a lot of people could and probably would be able to see him, but with that many harem members, it wasn't too much of a stretch to assume there was also a considerable number of staff, which, to SY's luck, there was! In fact, after he managed to activate a disguise for his clothes so they matched the rest of the servants, no one bat an eye on his presence; at most someone would inquire about his short hair, but other than that he was as noteable as a fly.

The first phase of his plan was already a success, so now he had to move on to reconnaissance which was mostly easy and the worst thing in his life. He was mostly looking for Binghe's quarters could be as he probably kept the sword close to him at all times, though with how big the palace was, his objective had gradually shifted to mapping out the labyrinth of halls as much as possible (SY was very glad that the System allowed him to create a map in real time or he might have gotten lost in the first five minutes). He walks so much he even manages to catch a few pieces of gossip, though the most interesting one by far being one about Binghe:

Apparently, a year ago, the Emperor had a qi deviation where, for a day, he seemed to have completely shifted his personality; he refused to touch any of his wives and kept screaming for his long dead Shizun. SY doesn't really remember that plot point, though his wondering is cut short when he hears people walking towards his direction. instinctively he his behind a dark corner, momentarily forgetting that he 'worked' at the palace now.

At list his bad luck was finally turning over as the Golden Protagonist himself walked past him with one of his wives hanging off his arm, looking just as cool as SY had always imagined. He had to snap himself out of his stuppor though, as two things caught his attention: First, Xin Mo was, predictably, strapped to his waist, still glitched but at least the virus seemed more or less contained, which gave SY a bit more time to work, though the other thing he noticed...

Hanging onto an old-looking braid laid SY's missing tassle that Binghe had found for him all the way back at the Conference.

What the hell was Luo Binghe doing wearing that old tassle at this day and age??

A few days passed and the Tassle Incident (as he called it) had to be set aside, as it seemed that passing as a servant also meant that other servants and even some wives expected SY to actually work. Not great, he sucked at cleaning and the other servants spared no words to make it clear to him, but it at least gave him something to do while he waited for his Scissors to arrive. SQH had sent him a few messages saying he'd gotten his part of the deal done, so now all SY could do was monitor Xin Mo's condition (from very far away), and occasionally manually debug some small virus pieces that had fallen from the sword, which luckily were easy enough to deal with that he didn't need to cut them off.

The only thing that was worrying him now is how... odd Luo Binghe seemed. Of course, he was supposed to be the pinnacle of the Cool Guy trope, so some edginess was to be expected, but Binghe didn't look just Edgy, he looked straight up depressed. There were bags under his eyes, and he barely seemed to tolerate the presence of 99% of his wives, and that damned braid with the damned tassle was still there-

Point is, Binghe acting so weird really threw SY through a loop, and he may have gotten a bit careless. At a random day when SY was carrying some dirty laundry another servant had just shoved at him, he had no prior warning before a voice sounded from behind him: "You seem to have dropped something."

He barely managed to shake off the violent sense of deja-vu that had sucker punched him in the face before he realized what was happening; Luo Binghe was talking to him. Directly to him. Shit- shit! Did he notice? Was Binghe doing a clever call back, spider-man style?? Was SY going to die????

SY shakily turns to Binghe, keeping his eyes locked onto the floor, bowing as much as possible that he still seemed respectful but the bag of clothes he had didn't all just fall to the floor. Thankfully Binghe didn't seem to mind, and simply put the fallen piece of clothing on top of the others and walked away. Though, just as SY was regaining his breath, Luo Binghe's voice stops him again. "You... Have we met before?"

SY trembles something about only being hired recently and not having the opportunity to formaly meet Junshang, and it seems to be a decent enough that Binghe just stares at him for a while longer before walking away. He really should grow out his hair if even the Emperor got weirded out like that...

Binghe started eyeing SY way more after that day. The protagonist would rarely speak directly to him, but SY could feel his gaze as if it were burning; though, since Binghe never said anything, SY just assumed that whatever Binghe's problem with him was, it was likely nothing to worry about.

In fact, it probably was because one of Binghe's wives had used SY is an impromptu act to try to get Binghe jealous (he just frowned, separated the two and walked away) and after that she had gotten infatuated with him, so she'd turned SY into her personal servant. Because of that SY saw Binghe at most two times a week instead of the 50% chnace of seeing his shadow once a week. Wow.

Because of this, as much as Binghe noticed SY, SY noticed Binghe as well, the protagonist seeming to get even more down as the days went. The tassle was still braided in his hair (SY worried it was just going to become a lock at this point), his eyebags never seemed to leave his eyes, and he was always muttering about... something. (SY managed to overhear something about 'fairness' and what Binghe actually wanted...?)

It all culminated at a seemingly random night. Most of the wives and servants had gone to sleep, only the more in-human women still hanging around, and SY, of course, but mostly it was because he wanted to see how close he could get to Binghe's quarters (aka Xin Mo) at night. Not that it was necessary, as when he was walking his attention was adruptly caught by the strangest sight: Luo binghe, sitting on one of the stone stair that lead to one of the many courtyards, being absolutely drenched in rain. The weirdest part was that a few servants and wives had also passed this place, and they all seemed like they didn't see Binghe, or didn't care.

Hating to see such an usually proud man (not that he'd seen much of that either) just soaking outside as if he'd just caught the love of his life cheating with another man, SY decided that at least he'd do a good job as a servant and take care of 'his Lord'. He grabs an umbrella from one of the adjacent rooms and slowly walks outside, covering Luo Binghe's form, not really caring if he was also getting soaked.

They stayed silent for who knows how long, but eventually, Binghe's eyes that had been laser focused on the horizon slowly blink once, as if coming out of a trance, and slowly move to SY's face, up to his hand holding the umbrella. "My Lord should get back inside. He'll get sick that way." SY half murmurs.

Binghe doesn't respond, though after a few seconds, his eyes seem to widen a bit and his breath comes out a little shaky. SY doesn't dare comment on it.

"Have we met before?" Luo Binghe asks again.

"...Yes." Shen Yuan says.

Binghe closes his eyes, and they stay like that for another hour.

Pt.3

[descargassims]

MY SIMS 3 CONTENT

Hi guys! Many followers have been asking me about my Sims 3 content, as a large part of it was no longer available for download anymore.

It took me a while to do it, sorry for the delay!

I had some of it, and I downloaded the rest from my blog, so I was able to compile most of my CC.

I shared it into 2 posts on Patreon:

PART 1: Clothing, Hairstyles, Accessories, Eyeliners And Teeth (200 links)

PART 2: Objects, Lots and Worlds (70 links)

[kaitoshimizu]

Hii there! Honestly, I’m not really sure what to say hehe...

But I do know that I’m super proud and excited to open my Tumblr account with this birthday drawing I made with all my love for... CHEEA! 🎉🎂💙

I know it took me a little while to finish it (sorry for the delay!), but I did my best to complete it as soon as possible.

It’s a gift for such an amazing person, and I truly hope they like it as much as I enjoyed creating it.

I also hope you all enjoy it too, and if you like my art, I’d love to have you around here! ;) 🌟

(Just a heads-up, I won’t post drawings super often haha, but I’ll try my best to stay active!)

Holaaa! La verdad no sé exactamente qué decir jeje...

¡Pero sí sé que me llena de orgullo y emoción abrir mi cuenta de Tumblr con este dibujo de cumpleaños que hice con muchísimo cariño para... ¡CHEEA! 🎉🎂💙

Sé que me demoré un poquito en terminarlo, y de verdad lo siento por eso, pero hice todo lo posible para completarlo en el menor tiempo.

Es un regalo para una persona increíble, y espero de corazón que le guste tanto como a mí me gustó hacerlo.

Ojalá ustedes también lo disfruten, y si les gusta mi arte, espero verlos por aquí! ;) 🌟

(Desde ya aviso que no subiré dibujos todos los días jajaja, ¡pero haré lo posible por mantenerme activa!)

@deerspherestudios

[cissy0writes]

Little Matchmaker

Part 1

(Jinx x gn!reader)

Summary: The little girl you've been taking care of for a few months stopped showing up one day. A few days later she's on your doorstep once again, but this time she isn't alone... (angst & fluff)

Warnings: mentions of violence and death, selfloathing thoughts, suicidal thoughts, probably ooc Jinx

Wordcount: 1.3k

A/N: Sorry for the delay, my weekend was way more hectic than I originally anticipated. And I worked two double shifts the last two days... This is still not finished, but I decided to cut it into two parts so I could at least post this, it's super short and Jinx only appears at the end, sorry for that... I was super tired while writing this (and as I already mentioned in my last post, english is not my first language), so I apologize for every mistake I didn't correct. I hope it's still enjoyable to read.

The first night she didn't show up, you didn't think much of it. Sure, there was that nagging feeling of worry in the back of your mind; but she was a smart kid- surely she was alright. By the third night, however, you were a complete mess. Your whole body was filled with nothing but anxiety and guilt.

You had looked for her, of course, you had. Day and night you made your way through the lanes, searching for the little girl to no avail. You started dreading the worst, she was dead, she had to be that was the only logical explanation. It's not like it was far-fetched either, Zaun was a dangerous place, and children died daily... You just didn't think she would.

You barely knew her for two months, but it was enough time for you to develop maternal feelings for her. You took her in, kept her well-fed and entertained, and even changed the whole room arrangement in your small house to give her a little space of her own. You planned on raising her to your best abilities and you failed. You failed her, you didn't protect her, you let her wander off... Her blood was on your hands and the guilt was eating you alive.

You always thought it was fate that led her to you, but now you weren't so sure anymore. Would fate be really that cruel? To give you a new purpose, a reason to stay alive, just to rip it from you again?

Perhaps this was fate's way of showing you that you had no reason to stay. Maybe you weren't meant to live a happy life, maybe you weren't meant to be alive at all.

That's all you could think about as you sat in front of the small window of your bedroom. You stared out onto the empty street, the undercity painted in the darkness of night. Your head was pounding- curtsy of the last three sleepless nights, and your eyes burned from the many tears you shed over the last days. You felt absolutely miserable, your mind showing you memory after memory you made with her over the last two months.

You were about to close up your shop when you heard the clashing of metal cans. With a frown you made your way to the window, peeking out of it with squinted eyes. That's when you saw her, a small girl covered in dirt and grease sitting between the trashcans with a pout on her young face.

Her brown hair looked matted and was covered in knots, her clothes dirty and ripped, and goodness did she look thin- like a single blow of wind would knock her down. You quickly made your way outside, wondering where she came from, if she still had parents, or at least somebody to look after her.

Once you reached her and crouched down in front of her with a frown, she looked up at you- face scrunching up in fear and started scrambling backwards until she hit the wall. You carefully held up your hands in front of you, showing her you were no threat. "Hey, hey... it's okay. I won't hurt you." You kept your voice as gentle as you could, and her rapid breathing started to slow down again.

She still looked skeptical of you, and honestly, you didn't blame her. Who knows what she faced, what she went through? You looked her over more carefully, searching for any wounds, but besides a few bruises on her knees and palms, she seemed unharmed.

You bit your bottom lip and looked up at the sky for a moment, it was starting to get dark. The girl's gaze followed yours and she let out a sound close to a whimper, which caused you to look down at her again.

Taking her inside was an easy decision. She was scared, hungry, and all alone; what else were you supposed to do? So, with a small sigh, you got up from your crouched position and held out your hand to her. And after a moment of hesitance, she took it.

She held your hand the whole time. From getting inside, closing the shop, and making your way upstairs to the small flat you lived in- she didn't let go once. It surprised you, how quickly she decided to trust you, but you supposed you were the first person to offer her at least some sense of safety.

As the two of you sat at your tiny kitchen table, a plate with hot porridge placed before her, you decided to ask her the question that's been on your mind since you noticed her.

"Hey kid," was all it took for her to look up from her plate, spoon held midway in the air, and a curious expression on her face. "Do you have a family? Anyone?"

Even though you alredy expected it, the shake of her head still sent a wave of sadness through your body. In that moment, you knew you would keep her around.

The first time you met her...

The memory caused you to break down in tears again. Your shoulders shook with every sob and you felt like you couldn't breath. Why did you let her go outside on her own? Why did you prioritize a stupid sale over playing with her? No money in the world was worth loosing her, and you would give anything to have her back.

You were tired, so damn tired, but you wouldn't allow your body the rest it so clearly needed. You were punishing yourself, why should you let yourself rest? You clearly didn't deserve it. You wiped at your eyes and tried blinking your vision back to focus. But the sight on the street caused your heart rate to pick up; this couldn't be real, you were hallucinating from exhaustion.

You frantically rubbed your eyes and leaned closer to the window, your nose almost pressed against the glass. But it seemed like your mind didn't decive you, she was still there, walking towards your shop.

Isha.

She was alive!

You pushed yourself up, the chair you were sitting on falling backwards and landing on the floor with a dull thud. Then you ran, you ran as fast as you could, outside the room and down the stairs. You pushed the door of your shop open, the door swinging harshly against the wall.

"Isha!" You screamed as you ran towards her small figure, tears still running down your cheeks at a rapid pace.

She looked at you with a smile, oblivious to the worry she caused you, as she picked up her pace.

You fell to your knees in front of her and pulled her tightly against you, pressing your cheek against the top of your head and closing your eyes. Your sobs slowly died down and you took shaky breaths to calm yourself.

Isha was alive, she was safe and unharmed in your arms. Where has she been? Did you even care? Not right now, you decided. Now you were just going to hold her for a while. She was alive. nothing else mattered.

The call of your name from an all to familiar voice, a voice that still haunts your dreams, caused you to snap your eyes open abruptly. You hadn't noticed that Isha wasn't alone, you were far too relieved to see her, so you blocked anything else completely out.

But as if your poor heart hadn't been through emotions already, you were now faced with the very person who broke it. Your eyes widened as you stared at her, her gaze looking almost haunted as her violett red eyes met yours.

Jinx. She was right in front of you, and now you were vividly picturing the last time you saw her in your mind.

[sailornymph]

I’m onsite how you wrote “closer” and it got me thinking. If you have time is there any why you could do it as the founders with the younger sister of the rival clan? Imagine how pissed madara would be to find out his lil sister is married and pregnant via tobirama, and vice versa!! If not I completely get it if you’re busy

resentment; founders

synopsis — the founders marrying their rivals sister

a/n — surprisingly i didn’t write smut for this, requests for imagines will be posted this weekend when i’m off, sorry for the delay!

♡ hashirama senju

— he is a bit confused but isn't too bothered by the rumors that you have been seen with madara uchiha. his rival and frenemy. however, he finds out it is true as he sees madara place a kiss on your lips, as he drops you off at the senju compound

— despite many of the senju clan members disagreeing, hashirama supports your relationship. he knows madara, and he is cold to many, but those who know him have seen his big heart. hashirama could also trust that you would always be protected by him

— he doesn't care about you being with a uchiha, if anything he is ecstatic. since you are getting closer to the clan, perhaps you could help him welcome them to integrate amongst everyone else

— hearing about the wedding, he is jumping for joy. he makes time to help you plan, making sure that everything is perfect. even inviting every uchiha and senju clan member

— when you come to visit and collapse, only to find out it's because you are pregnant, he has to restrain himself from giving you a bone-crushing hug. his baby sister married with a baby on the way, he never thought he'd see the day

— getting the news about what happened between tobirama and izuna, he immediately is in search of you. he has to make sure that you're okay before he can do anything else. it is another issue in itself when madara refuses to let hashirama near you in the compound

— if you choose to stay with madara, hashirama will be apologetic, but understanding. hugging you one last time, before he has to watch you from afar. until you, madara, and your daughter are said to be dead. then he will live the remaining of his life, thinking of you, and what he could've or should've done

— if you choose to leave madara and come back home, he will comfort you the entire time. he and mito take turns watching his niece as you grieve your marriage, especially when madara turns up missing. even after he passes, he and tobirama will make sure that you are taken care of, and while you aren't as close as you used to be with the clan. you are still as loving and kind to them as when you first met

“we need shinobi, i need to know that she is well, damn you madara, she is still my sister,” hashirama said angrily. he paced the floor, trying to calm down.

“he didn’t let you see her?” mito asked worriedly.

“no, he went on about how his wife didn’t want to see me and how he would personally be killing my brother,” he grumbled. he didn’t take any of madara’s threats personal, he would feel the same if his brother was killed, but he needed to make sure you were okay.

“she’s here,” tobirama pushed off the wall, rushing out into the rain, covering you and the infant with his cloak, as he helped you into the house.

“y/n,” hashirama exhaled, wrapping his arms around you and his niece.

“please get them both fresh clothing, we don’t need them getting sick,” mito said.

“why are you walking through the rain uncovered? You or d/n could end up sick, where is madara?” he asked, but regretted it, noticing the puffiness of your eyes, you had been crying.

“did you kill izuna, brother?” you asked, tobirama.

“it was either him or myself,” he said, as you reached to hold his cheek.

“izuna was very kind, but i’m glad that you are well,” you said, as mito carefully took your daughter to get her into warmer clothing.

“are you alright, y/n?” hashirama reached for your hand.

“lord hokage, i came to ask that you would petition a letter of divorcement from my husband. as you know, my child has senju and uchiha blood. he plans to use this to his benefit and make a weapon out of our child, but i can’t allow that,” you began to crumble, as hashirama nodded, hugging you.

“i’ll take care of it, i promise, you both are safe here. he won’t get the chance. tobirama and i will make sure that she has a lovely childhood. are you alright? he didn’t hurt you, did he?” he told you, rocking you in his arms, sharing a look with tobirama.

“no, he was furious, breaking things, he is hurt about izuna, but i thought you were fighting for children to live a peaceful life, she didn’t ask to be a tool for his mission. i couldn’t tell him that, so when he left, i climbed from our window, and ran here”

“she will live a peaceful life, as will you, i promise, i’ll take care of everything-

“hashirama, hand over my daughter and wife,” madara yelled, looking up you could see the senju shinobi glaring, ready to attack at your brothers command.

“don’t fight him brother, you’ll kill him, he’s not thinking straight,” you cried to hashirama.

“i won’t fight him, you stay inside, you’re safe, you remember where the guest room is? tobirama assist her,” he said, before going outside.

“madara, it doesn’t have to come to this”

“i am no fool, i know they are here”

“d/n is just as much senju as uchiha, her wellbeing is vital to this clan”

“shut your mouth, my daughter wields a power that none of you worthless senju will ever be able to grasp, bring them to me, and i will spare your men”

“d/n is your daughter, but y/n is my sister, and i don't appreciate you scaring her, with your nonsense. using d/n’s abilities for the future, killing tobirama, not of which will happen”

“she is scared of what she hasn’t seen, a revolution lead by a warrior, she will learn her role”

“if you speak of my sister like that again, i will have to kill you”

“how about you mind your business?”

“i am your rival, but much like you, i am an older brother first, and if you want to be anywhere near y/n or my niece, you will have to get through me first”

♡ madara uchiha

— this could be a go either way, depending on the brother that you end up with

— you choose hashirama, madara is a bit disgusted, this is his rival after all, but he knows that he is kindhearted and that you will be loved and protected

— the disgust will become more suppressed as your relationship grows more serious with the senju, marriage and your first pregnancy happening (all of which madara and the clan are heavily involved in) as you work towards the two clans becoming closer

— when izuna is killed, madara makes clear that no senju are welcome anywhere near the compound. only you can continue your visits, where you are not allowed to bring up anyone from that clan. he wants to make sure his nephew/niece is still brought up with some uchiha culture. finally, after making you vow to keep in contact with the clan no matter what, he disappears, some saying that he died in battle

— if you choose tobirama (first of all, why!) you’re in for a handful of chaos

— when he senses a potential relationship brewing, he tries to become more protective, forcing you to go home earlier, telling hashirama to get his brother, and telling tobirama to back off, but it only makes you sneaky

— he was repulsed and baffled, but he would let it all play out, for the sake of his love for his baby sister. how could you fall in love with someone who blatantly disliked your clan? were you some sort of exception to the rule?

— he nearly has a heart attack finding out about the marriage, then you’re pregnant not even a month into your marriage. were the gods punishing him for something he did or said, by making his little sister be with the senju prick?

— when tobirama kills izuna, he gives you an ultimatum: choose the clan or the senju’s, but you can’t have both, not after the laying with the enemy. if you choose the uchiha, he will take you and your baby in, strengthing security to keep the senju away, and when he disappears, you will continue to be taken care of by the clan. but if you choose tobirama, then you never hear from your brother again, until receiving a message from the clan, letting you know that madara has been declared dead

“she’s so pretty, she has your nose,” you said, tiredly, to tobirama, as you lay in the hospital bed, holding your newborn.

“she is very beautiful,” he agreed.

“i-

“madara, not now, she just had the baby”

“shut up, hashirama, i’m here for my sister, not you”

“you’ll have to wait, just like everyone else”

“to hell with you”

“what’s going on?” you asked, worriedly.

“stay here, i’ll take care of it,” tobirama told you, going to open the door, when madara barged in.

opening your mouth, you were about to ask that he didn’t start a fight, but stopped as izuna followed him in, both of them holding large bouquets of flowers.

“do i have a nephew?” madara asked.

“niece,” you corrected, as he grumbled, inzuna snickering.

“told you”

“let me see her, i will have to make do, she will be stronger than every girl in this region,” he said, making sure to bump tobirama shoulder, as he moved close to you.

“i’ll give you some privacy,” tobirama said, awkwardly, leaving the room.

“finally, do any of them understand social cues,” izuna rolled his eyes.

“thank you for coming, both of you, i know you may resent me for who i’ve married, but i am thankful to have you both here”

“no one has any resentment towards you, you’ve always been a knucklehead, so it isn’t too surprising. as long as we still can reach you, who you’re with is irrelevant, even if he is a rude loser, you will always be our baby sister”

♡ tobirama senju

— he is nearly consumed with rage when he sees izuna uchiha walking his sister home. he has no problem storming over, snatching your hand from his lips, and telling him to stay away from you. as the two men glare at each other, passing words, he rolls his eyes as you beg izuna to leave

— how could you choose a uchiha out of all potential suitors? hashirama may support your folly, but he scolds you each time he runs into you coming or going to the uchiha compound

— when he is told about the upcoming marriage, his heart drops. you’re serious about this uchiha. he searches for you and tries to talk you out of it. you can marry anyone else, anyone your heart desires, just not a uchiha. the thought of one of them, madara’s brother especially, having his baby sister, made his skin crawl

— when you come to visit, a uchiha shinobi assisting you, and your hand over your belly bump, he nearly passes out. although, he can’t deny that he is fairly excited to meet his new nephew and niece. they would be just as much senju as uchiha and that made him feel a bit better

— he is enjoying feeling the baby's kicks, promising to be more fun than hashirama. he is the first senju to arrive when they are informed that you have gone into labor and he is the first guest who gets to hold his adorable nephew

— he didn't think he would feel as guilty as he did, for killing izuna, but he tried to break it to you gently. however, madara beats him to it and tells you what your precious brother has done. it only makes him feel guiltier

— if you choose to remain with the uchiha clan, his heart will be shattered, but he will accept your decision. loving and protecting you and his nephew from afar, despite his dislike for the clan

— if you choose to come home, he will work hard to prove himself worthy of your trust. he won't display any dislike towards uchiha when you're around and he begins to build a bond with his nephew, ensuring that he is more senju than uchiha

“just tell her, the two of you came across each other in battle, it was your life or his,” hashirama said, as they stood outside of the small cottage. everyone agreed that you would be safest away from both compounds, guarded by a senju and uchiha shinobi.

entering the house, his heart dropped as you anxiously paced the floor, rocking your son in your arms. stopping as you seen your brothers, you relax your posture, only for a moment.

“kami…you’re okay, did you see izuna?

“y/n…”

“i hope you plan on telling her the truth,” madara spoke from behind the brothers, making you furrow your eyebrows.

“madara, where is izuna?”

“y/n, give s/n to nani,” hashirama said, watching as you handed the infant to your maiden.

“leave us,” he told the woman, watching as she left the room.

“i came across izuna in battle, he had killed three of my best men-

“madara, where is my husband?” you asked again, your body visibly shaking, as he activated his sharingan, those were izuna’s eyes.

“he is dead, and your brother killed him,” he glared.

“t-tobirama, this isn't true? tell me it is a lie,” you shook your head, pulling away from hashirama, as he tried to hug you.

“it was his life or my own-

“you killed zuna,” you said, in shock, dropping to the floor.

“he wanted you to know that he loves you and s/n, before he asked me to take his eyes,” madara continued, despite the glares from your brothers.

as you began to weep loudly and bitterly, clutching the black cloak on your body, that belonged to him, you rocked your body back and forth.

“y/n, i'm sorry,” tobirama started, trying to comfort you.

“don't touch me, stay away from me,” you cried. you couldn't care about the deep shame in his eyes, how his hands were slightly shaking.

“y/n-

“what hashirama, do you want to side with him? everything is not okay, he killed izuna, my husband, the father of my son, but it doesn't matter does it?”

“it does,” tobirama answered sadly.

“no, it doesn't, you hated him, even though you didn't know him. you didn't know that he liked to train with the uchiha children, that he helped the elderly, that he was patient, how he always worked hard, you don't care because he's a uchiha,” you spat, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“madara, please bring me to him,” you said, accepting his hand, allowing his free hand to wrap around your body, as he helped you stand, leading you to the uchiha compound.

“nani, come with us,” he called out, watching as she came into view, holding his nephew close.

you were leaving and there was nothing tobirama or hashirama could do to stop you. his little sister, the one he said he would always protect was becoming further from his reach. he could only scream, punching the wall in regret.

[r2d2lover]

Extra Credit

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.69k (im so sorry)

Warnings: first time blow job, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, F/M, cunnilingus, fingering, aged-up characters, Hogwarts Uni AU

Summary:

Fed up with being romantically inept, you ask your childhood best friend, Fred Weasley, for some help.

Despite his reputation, Fred was quite the studious reader. He was always in the heart of the common room on a weekend, buried in a book about tricks, potions, and temporary charms. He was a man of research and if he found something that needed testing, he would contact you. You had been his most trusted scientific confidant since your childhood years and now in post-secondary school, the two of you were ever the academics. Fred and George disguised their penchant for shenanigans through their potioneering concentration and fortunate for them, you were naturally gifted from the amount of times you want to defy your old potions professor. However, while post-secondary school had been kind, you felt yourself lacking knowledge in a different area of life: romance. 

You seemed to be the only one amongst your friends to be completely unskilled in the art of love. While your friends seemed to effortlessly navigate the waters of dating and relationships, you felt like you were drowning in a sea of awkwardness and uncertainty. Sure, you tried when you were younger, but time and opportunity eluded you. You were always too focused on your own agency or helping the twins pull off some prank. There wasn’t a single boy who caught and held your attention like Fred or George. You finally decided one night to take the plunge and join the sexual fray by asking Fred to help you out. You leveraged in your mind it was an educational opportunity that would only happen once. Fred was a frequent flier, as you had heard him described, around school, so you figured that not only would he have the experience, but it would be as casual as his other flings.

It was during one of your late-night study sessions with Fred that you finally decided to broach the subject. The common room was empty save for the two of you, the crackling fire casting a warm glow over the scattered parchments and open books.

"Fred," You began hesitantly, setting down your quill. The sound of the cracking embers saved you from any awkward silence. "Can I ask you something... personal?"

"Of course. What's on your mind?" Fred looked up from his book on temporary transfiguration charms, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. You took a deep breath, feeling your cheeks grow warm. He put his book down when he clocked your growing fluster.

"How do you... I need to ask you something. Er… a favor?” You shifted your weight nervously, which only added to the glee in Fred’s face. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs and stretching his arms behind his head. His smirk only grew wider.

“I love an opportunity for quid pro quo. What do you have in mind, princess?” Fred kept his lazy demeanor. Your stomach continued to bubble over from the nerves. You couldn’t believe you were actually going to ask him for this. Fred’s eyes followed you closely, especially when you swallowed thickly before speaking.

"Um, well...it's a chance to learn something new? An educational opportunity," You stumbled over your words, desperately trying to delay the inevitable. Fred gave you a quizzical look, silently urging you to elaborate with another raise of his eyebrows. "I...okay, fine. Teach me how to use my mouth." 

“Well, I think you have enough wit for the both of us and I know you and Cedric love to catch a snog-”

“No. Not like that,” The words felt like defeat as they left your lips. You curled your fingers in a nauseating mixture of fear and excitement. You leaned closer on the table and dropped your voice to a whisper. “Are you really going to make me say it?”

“Oh… Oh!” Fred’s eyes flashed with realization. He stood up from his chair too quickly, causing it to topple over and sent him crashing to the floor. You let out a gasp as Fred laughed and stayed on the ground. You reached out with a trembling hand to help him up, but he took advantage of the situation by pulling you down on top of him. “Are you... sure? Are you serious?”

“This is mortifying enough. Forget I said anything. It was, uh, a dare!” Your cheeks burned with humiliation while you scrambled to your feet. Fred let out another laugh and stood up without your help. Before you could flee, Fred grabbed your arm and trapped you against his body. He was absolutely drinking in your flustered state. 

“Woah, hey, where do you think you’re going? A dare? Nice try; You’re an awful liar,” Fred chuckled. He licked his lips in pure entertainment and you swore you saw his eyes darken. “I’ll teach you. I never said I wouldn’t.”

“I made a mistake. I don’t want this to make things weird between us,” You shake your head as if trying to clear your second thoughts, your first thoughts, and any thoughts, really. Fred took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping your head back so you looked up at him. Your mouth ran dry as you met his mischievous gaze. It was no secret that Fred was wildly attractive or that he was the object of affection for any girl in your cohort. You never thought you’d be seeing your childhood best friend in such light, but with the offer you just made, you tipped the two of you into an irreversible grey area. 

“It’s only weird if you don’t enjoy it and I am a very good teacher,” Fred practically purred into your ear. Your breath hitched as Fred's lips brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You couldn’t deny the fire building in your stomach that was beginning to temper your nausea. You couldn't believe this was happening, that you had actually asked him for this, and that he had agreed. “And I can’t pass up an educational opportunity. Especially not to you.”

"So, um, how do we... start?" You asked hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. Fred pulled back slightly, his eyes twinkling with mischief and something darker.

"Well, first things first," Fred said, his voice low and husky. "We need a more private location. My room should do nicely."

Before you could protest, Fred had taken your hand and was leading you up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. Your heart pounded in your chest with each step and your mind followed suit, racing with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Once inside, Fred closed the door behind you with his foot and pushed you roughly against the wall. This was really happening.

“Stop me at any point, princess,” Fred trailed his lips from your ear lobe down to your jaw. He had you trapped against the door with a hand by your head and his knee planted against your thighs. He was skilled, as you had thought, and instead of feeling anxiety, you felt a strange sense of comfort. Your knees buckled as you felt his body heat envelop yours.

“Y-yes,” You said softly, nearly whimpering as you tried to restrain your hips from bucking into Fred’s leg. You felt ridiculous at your rampant desperation and tried miserably to keep your composure. Fred was delighted. He captured your lips into his and you sank into his plush warmth. You wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him closer to deepen the kiss. Despite the rational side of you telling you to stop kissing your best friend, the deliciously irrational side was indulging in how kissing Fred felt like an electric current. His free hand snaked to your waist, gentle yet firm with possession. 

As your tongues tangled, you savored the taste of Fred's lips, tinged with the subtle flavor of mint from the gum he had been chewing earlier and a general candied sweetness. The mint mixed with his wild scent of firewood smoke and woody cologne, driving you absolutely insane. You tilted your head back without any protest to allow Fred access to your neck. He deftly nipped at the sensitive skin between your neck and jaw, drawing out your whimpers even more. Your hands dragged slowly from his neck down to his broad chest until they finally landed hooked in his belt loops. You ghosted your hands over the free edge of his trousers, mindlessly tracing the space between his pants and boxers. You moved your hand down further, gently teasing his growing bulge. Fred grunted with frustrated desire and sucked down on your neck hard. 

You blindly tugged at his belt with a matched desperation to free him. Fred's hands quickly joined yours, fumbling with his belt buckle in a frantic rush. As it finally came loose, you yanked it free and tossed it aside, the metal clinking as it hit the floor. Your fingers trembled as you worked on the button of his jeans, while Fred's mouth continued its assault on your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses.

"Merlin, I've wanted this for so long. You are… unreal," Fred breathed against your skin, his voice strained with need. You thought he was speaking out of desire, for there was no way your childhood friend thought of you the same way you did him. He worked the buttons of your blouse loose and he couldn’t help himself from tearing his mouth away from your body to savor the sight. Before you could fully undo his jeans, he placed an imposing hand over yours. “Ah, ah. Your lesson begins here. Get on your knees.”

With an obedience purely fueled by desperation, you nodded at Fred while looking up at him through your eyelashes. You dropped to your knees while keeping your hands on his hips. A small part of you wanted to impress him, so you finally tugged his jeans and boxers off in one go.

“Eager student, aren’t you? Very Ravenclaw of you,” Fred grinned with a humored sarcasm. With a strange fondness, he caressed your cheek before raking his fingers through your hair so that he could gather it all back into a firm hold. You looked at his member nervously, trying to keep your eyes from widening. You realized that his “object of affection” went further than his whimsical looks and personality. 

"Don't worry, love. We'll take it slow," Fred chuckled softly at your hesitation, but still he reassured you, his voice throaty with desire. You tentatively reached out, wrapping your fingers around his impressive length. Fred inhaled sharply at your touch, his grip tightening in your hair. Emboldened by his reaction, you began to stroke him slowly, marveling at the velvet-soft skin over steel hardness. "That's it. Now, use your mouth. Just the tip at first."

Heart racing, you leaned forward and took him between your lips. Fred groaned deeply, his hips jerking slightly. His fingers flexed tightly against your scalp. The salty taste of him filled your senses as you swirled your tongue experimentally. Your mind raked through what your friends had told you before and how to proceed. You leaned forward, taking more of him into your mouth while keeping your eyes trained on him for reaction. You hollowed your cheeks to apply a gentle suction as you began to bob your head. Fred’s hips twitched, fighting the urge to thrust. Instead, he tightened his grip on your hair and guided your movements that way. His free hand caressed your cheek, thumb brushing over your stretched lips. It seemed as if he couldn’t believe the situation either. 

“You… you don’t seem to need lessons,” Fred hissed. You kept looking up at him, utterly fascinated by his reaction. You were enjoying the way you were making him come undone. “Mmm, move your hand down… Merlin, just like that. Good girl.”

You obeyed, sliding your hand down to the base of his shaft as you continued your ministrations with your mouth. His words caused you to moan around him. You dragged a cupping hand over the furthest part of his manhood, which made Fred throw back his head with the loudest groan by far. Fred's breathing grew ragged, his chest heaving as he fought to maintain control. The grip in your hair tightened further, almost to the point of pain, but the discomfort only fueled your arousal.

"Fuck," Fred groaned, his voice strained. "You're a natural, love. But if you keep this up, I won't last much longer."

Encouraged by his words, you redoubled your efforts, taking him deeper into your throat. You gagged slightly but with his guidance, you were determined to bring him pleasure. Fred's hips began to move more insistently, setting a rhythm that you eagerly matched.

"I'm close," Fred warned, his voice trembling with a moan. "You don't have to--"

You had no intention of stopping. You attempted to swallow what you could around him and Fred’s eyes squeezed shut tight. Humming in acknowledgement, Fred twitched at the vibration. With a hand around his shaft and the other at his sack, you could feel him close to ending the lesson you begged for. In one swift movement, Fred's hand reached up and grabbed your hair, pulling you away from his manhood. Your eyes widened in surprise and your gaze met his intense, dark eyes. Your gag was replaced with a gasp while you forgot how to breathe. Fred breathing was just as heavy and ragged as yours while he tried to regain his composure. His messy red hair clung to his aroused perspiration. He looked down at the sight of you on your knees, a small smile peeking through the corner of his lips. 

“Is something wrong? Fred-”

“I want to keep going. I don’t want to finish here, but Merlin, you are gorgeous,” Fred panted. You gave a wide eyed nod while Fred yanked you up. “It’s not fair that you’re basically fully clothed.”

“An easy fix,” Your voice was still hoarse from the earlier intrusion, but it didn’t distract you from fully shedding your clothes. Fred leaned foward to reseek your mouth and took your distraction as an opportunity to push you back into his bed. “Is this taking it too far?”

“Only if you think so,” Fred moved a gentle hand down towards your breasts, indulging himself in the soft mound of skin. Fred's eyes darkened with desire as he gazed down at your naked form. “Do you want to stop?”

"No, god, no,” You mewled. “This is… extra credit.”

“Mmm, extra credit,” Fred removed his mouth from your neck to laugh at your remark. You arched into his touch, craving more. 

"Please, Fred," You whimpered. You encouraged him by dragging your foot up against his thigh, pulling him closer with just your foot.

"Patience, love. I want to savor every inch of you," Fred chuckled against your skin again. “And I have to give you an ‘A’ for your earlier performance. This is just a testament to your good work.'“

True to his word, Fred took his time exploring your body with his lips and fingers. He lavished attention on your breasts, teasing your nipples to stiff peaks. His mouth blazed a trail down your stomach, pausing to dip his tongue into your navel. When he finally reached the apex of your thighs, you were trembling with need. Fred's hot breath ghosted over your most sensitive areas and he was having as much fun as you were. 

“I can’t… Stop teasing, please… Fred-” You whined pathetically as you bucked your hips up, desperate for friction. Fred only tsked and held you down with more conviction. His fingers traced delicate patterns on your inner thighs, sending shivers through your body. You squirmed beneath him, desperate for more contact. Fred's lips curled into a mischievous smile as he watched you writhe. Finally relenting, Fred lowered his head and placed a gentle kiss on your most sensitive spot. You gasped at the sensation, your back arching off the bed. Encouraged by your reaction, Fred's tongue began to explore, alternating between long, languid strokes and quick, teasing flicks. 

Your hands found their way into Fred's hair, gripping tightly as waves of pleasure washed over you. Fred's fingers joined his mouth, slowly pushing inside you as his tongue’s pace continued. Your body was on fire, every nerve ending tingling with pleasure as Fred’s mouth and fingers worked their magic. You wailed out an incoherent string of his name slathered with curses. You managed a peak at the mess of red hair between your thighs, only to be met with the cheeky smirk of a man drunk with desire. His smile is smug and glistening with your arousal, which only makes you arch your back higher. 

You surrendered yourself to the pleasure, a symphony of sounds and sensations that left you breathless and flushed with desire. A tightness built in your stomach and you voiced your climbing pleasure by tugging at Fred’s hair. Painfully, though you did not know which party it hurt more, Fred removed his mouth and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked nothing short of animalistic and he looked at you with primal pleasure. He helped himself up and kissed you again deeply, slowly lining himself up with you. You whimpered into the kiss, tasting a remnant of yourself on his lips as you felt the heat of him pressing against your entrance. Fred broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he locked eyes with you. His gaze was intense, filled with a mixture of lust and something deeper, more tender.

"Ready, love?" Fred murmured, pressing his forehead against you. You nodded frantically, beyond words at this point. Fred slowly pushed forward, stretching you deliciously as he entered. You both groaned in unison at the sensation, your bodies finally joining as one. Fred stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size, his arms trembling slightly with the effort of restraint. You were beside yourself at this point.

"Move," You pleaded, rolling your hips to encourage him. Fred didn't need to be told twice. He began to thrust, starting with slow, deep strokes that had you gasping for air at each movement. In the dim light of the room, you could see the muscles on Fred’s back ripple as he moved, his body glistening with sweat. The veins on his neck bulged with exertion while his face was a mix of concentration and pleasure. The scent of sweat and sex mixed together, a heady aroma that filled the room and only made you dizzy with further desire. Your lips parted as you panted for air, tasting the sweetness of Fred's kiss still lingering on your tongue. You pulled his head back down to feel his lips again. The rhythmic sounds of skin against skin and heavy breathing filled the room, accompanied by the occasional moan or whimper of pleasure. Each thrust from Fred brought a new wave of pleasure, leaving you crying for wanting more.

Fred’s skin was hot against yours, his strong hands gripping onto your hips as he thrust into you. Your skin tingled with each movement, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure throughout your body. Your fingers dug into the sheets beneath you, providing an anchor from falling off the edge too quickly. 

“You’re so good, princess. You’re an addiction,” Fred languished in your ear. “How badly have you wanted me? I want to hear you say it.”

“Forever… Merlin, I’ve had a crush on you forever. I’ve wanted this- for so long- ah!” You struggled with your words as your mind began to turn white hot with ecstasy. While you would’ve said anything to secure your release, you were wretchedly honest. Fred bit back a smirk while he snapped his hips with much slower pace. 

“Music. To. My. Ears,” Fred grunted with each movement of his hips. You began chanting his name again and clawed at his chest to stay grounded, but you had already begun to slip. “Come undone, princess. I want to see you make a mess of yourself. Because of me.”

Your body obeyed his command, trembling uncontrollably as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Fred's name fell from your lips in a breathy moan as your entire body lifted off of the bed. Your vision blurred, overwhelmed by the intensity of your release. Fred groaned deeply, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own climax.

"That's it, love. You're so beautiful like this," Fred heaved, his voice shaky with desire. As you came down from your high, Fred captured your lips in a searing kiss. In the moment, he pulled out and spilled himself onto your stomach with a labored breath. He collapsed next to you in exhaustion, begging for a second to recapture his thoughts. 

While Fred helped you clean yourself of him and in the midst of redressing, a small sense of dread replaced the crashing adrenaline. You couldn't help but wonder if this was just a one-time thing for Fred and how it would affect the next day, hell, even the next five minutes. The thought made your chest tighten with anxiety. As if sensing your unease, Fred pulled you close, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours, love?" Fred murmured, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your skin. 

"I just... I don't want this to be a mistake. For you, I mean," You croaked with a new sense of clarity. Fred's eyes widened in surprise before softening with understanding. He cupped your face in his hands, his gaze intense and sincere. 

"Listen to me, princess. This could never be a mistake. I've wanted you for so long, I can hardly believe this is real. If we make this work, it won’t change what we had," Fred assured with another kiss. He flattened your mussed hair and looked at you teasingly. “And if anything, this was just an education opportunity, right?”

“It was a good class,” Your heart fluttered from Fred’s reassurance. “Is there any homework I need to catch up on?”

“Oh, today was just an introduction to the syllabus, princess,” Fred bit his lip devilishly. “Ready for lesson two?”

[northsealight]

...and dry it off with care

summary: you're tired and not sure how to receive comfort. jason helps you relax :)

notes: a quick little imagine to tide MYSELF over while i try to grow the balls to post my insane jason related project soon (hint hint its medieval).. but this is my first post.. yahoo!

彡𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 彡

The past couple of weeks had little to look forward to. You, an unfortunate slave to your degree, had subscribed to the Sisyphean cycle of waking up at 6:00 AM, eating stale leftovers, and killing yourself at lectures until you dragged yourself home at 8:00 PM. The part of your miserable routine that stung the most was the fact that you barely had time to see Jason. 

This night was no different. Dead on your feet with a head of freshly showered hair, you painfully clambered into bed with your slumbering boyfriend. Unfortunately, the hopes of drying your scalp died long ago with the remainders of your arm strength. 

As you try to get settled quietly between the sheets, Jason, being a horrifically light sleeper, blinks awake to your dismay. He groans, and lifts one sleepy eye open. Secretly, you think to yourself how cat-like your boyfriend is. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, reaching over to brush the soft strands of hair from his eyes, “Go back to sleep.”

Jason only hums, and traces your hair with his outstretched fingers. He yawns. “Your hair’s still wet.”

“Astute observation. Now go back to sleep.”

“Mm. No,” Without warning, he arises from bed, padding off to the bathroom. You snort incredulously when he comes back with a blow dryer.

“Sit up,” He gently commands, sitting on your side of the bed now. “Gonna catch a cold if you sleep like that.” 

Your brain stalls, for a second. “What?”

Jason rolls his eyes and motions for you to scoot over, the remnants of sleep previously clinging to his face dissipating by the second. “I’m not letting you go to bed like that. Up.”

Oh. Your chest, in your half-sleep haze, instantly melts at his tenderness. 

You almost feel like a third party observer as your body folds into a sitting position, leaning flush against Jason’s chest without your control. You don’t miss the way how one his comically giant hands is always on you, touching your thigh, or resting on your waist.

Jason begins to gently dry your hair with the machine on the lowest setting. Maybe it was how emotionally draining your day was, or the sentimentality of the late evening, but your eyes became mysteriously damp at the way he handled you– took care of you. In the quiet darkness of your shared room, his movements felt languid, almost delayed. It felt wrong, distorted in some form. Each careless movement of his body against your own wasn’t deserved, like your body should dissipate at the touch of another. 

Wanting to push him away, your muscles tense, the vulnerability and sheer closeness overwhelming you. Jason in turn, still gently drying your damp scalp, notices the stiff movement. 

“Relax. What, you’ve got a crush on me or something?” he teases. You almost snap out of your stupor at Jason’s stupid jab, but you humor him anyway.

“In your dreams,” you sniff. “ I’ve got a boyfriend.”

Now it’s Jason’s turn to be teased. He plays along, and you can almost envision his small grin with his response. “Now who’s this mystery man? He’s lucky to have a pretty thing like you.” 

You sniff again. “He’s a big idiot. He sings off-key Cher to piss off my neighbors and keeps forgetting where he left his glasses. And he always insists on staying up for me when he should be resting up for tomorrow.”

“Hey.” Jason warns you, waving around the blow dryer. “Need I remind you who's wielding the potentially lethal electric device?”

You only snort and push at him. When it falls quiet, you break the silence with an unsure apology. “Sorry for waking you up.”

Jason only shushes you. “Don’t apologize for that. S’no bother.”

You close your eyes and lean back, further into him, to anchor yourself. Jason only presses a gentle kiss to your neck, and continues drying your hair.

You fall asleep that way. Morning comes to find you with a dry head of hair, an aching heart, and a gentle giant curled around your figure.

[friendlyneighborhoodcat]

Forsaken Yandere HC-3

Took a while for me to actually start on this because of homework, sorry for the delay:(

I still got 2 pounds of assignment I gotta finish but regardless, enjoy the food<3

This one is for the killers, Noob, and n7 btw. The other survivors are in my two other post

Coolkid will automatically be a platonic yandere, romantic yandere Coolkid writers DNI.

Jason will be the only non-yandere in all three parts. I HC him to be aroace and refuses to look past that.

Warning: Might be ooc

1x1x1x1: She's a narcissistic, sadistic, and pathetic wet cat. Will def target anyone BUT you. Always leave you for LMS (She still kills you, tho, she just likes the thrill of it). Would definitely be grumpy if u ended up winning the LMS and went back to the killer's cabin to stab the wall with her Daemonshank. She resents you, a lot, for being on her mind 24/7. She has long taught herself that affection is weakness(HC), so she doesn't know why it was much different when it comes to you. She's too prideful to admit shit, so if anything you'll just get absolutely mauled if you ever mentioned or teases her about it. It always feels wrong to kill you specifically, and she's fuming that it is.

John Doe: He's a gentleman when it comes to you, mainly because the feeling he has for you reminded him of the feelings he still has for ____. He'd give you small things like flowers he found in a round, or things he made by hand. He doesn't understand much of humans' emotions, but he still tries to for your sake. He always leaves you for LMS before coming up to you and trying to communicate. It always scares the living shit out of you, but you eventually let your guard down a little and share with him some things abt you. You're still wary of him, though, that's for sure. But he's always patient with you. He'll literally do whatever you tell him to, seriously. Tell him to go fight The Spectre, and he WILL actually try it. The Spectre ended up throwing him back to the Killers' cabin with a warning.

C00lkid: Strictly platonic yandere!! He loves you mainly because you're friendly and open around his dad. Would definitely target you first because you're 'his new fav tag buddy', it's only cuz n7's clone fools him every time and he got grumpy from that. You pity him, you really do, since he has to be forced to kill in order to survive as a child. So you're always forgiving and patient when it comes to something that he did. Even if it's server wiping and ripping you to pieces, you'd still forgive him. He thinks of you as a second parent because of that, so he'd always try to get you to 'marry' n7 so it can be official. He's not, in any way, possessive of you. He just gets upset when you show attention to anyone else who isn't his dad.

Jason: Yell at me all you want, but Jason is NOT a romantic yandere. Nor is he a platonic yandere. He's not the type to get jealous or protective over someone. He does think you're cool, tho. Doesn't stop him from hitting you with gashing wound. He only kinda likes you because his mother likes you, but even then, he still wouldn't hold back from server wiping. Overall, he doesn't give a fuck. Ki ki ma ma

Noob: He's tripping over his own feet running around trying to please you. Nervous as hell when it comes to interactions regarding you. You would have to be the one to start a convo with him, cuz he's too scared to even be in your vicinity. He does share his bloxy colas with you during rounds, only if you ask cuz he's fucking terrified of you. You find his nervousness endearing in a way, while he's just trembling when you're around. It's bc of him thinking that you're too cool and stuff to be hanging around him, and he thinks you're judging him for everything he does. He's pathetic, I know. Your patience does get him to warm up to you a little, but he's still somewhat closed off.

007n7: You're one of the few people who don't mind his past, hence why he likes you. He wouldn't show himself much during rounds, but he would leave bloxy colas and medkits near your area(referencing YFAT AU, peak AU btw yall should check it out). He'd apologize for Coolkid's behavior whenever his son tries to get you to 'marry' him. You both find it quite amusing, though. He loves it when you start convos with him regarding the CoolGUI, though he does get uncomfortable when he mentions his past. He'd sometimes get dirty looks from Elliot when he was around you, and he'd visibly flinch from that(Elliot heavily resents him for burning his workplace several times and fears something like that might happen to you).

-----

UEUEUUEUEUE

This is so painful to write, especially when I don't know most of their personalities *sobs*

I'd love to write additional characters like Noli, Azure, or Mafioso but this post would be too long and I'm too tired for that sighs.

I'm considering taking requests, but it's not decided yet since I have to see if I have the time

BYE SILLIES<3

[binkibuns]

of course - h. iwaizumi

content: iwaizumi (27) athletic trainer x fem!reader, meet-cute, grumpy!iwa (at first), iwaizumi really fucking likes burritos, FLUFF, post-timeskip - divider indicates pov switch between iwa & reader

word count: 1.3k note: first time posting my writing...gulps...enjoy

part 1 of the meet-cute series!!

iwaizumi hajime hated the airport.

he hated the security, he hated the noise, and most of all, he hated the crowds.

he understood that the airport brought stress on everyone, not just him, especially as he was currently running late to his gate—despite the fact that his flight didn't leave for another hour and a half. he understood why there were so many people here right now, probably because the olympics were starting soon. what he didn't understand, though, was why some people had to be so damn thoughtless.

it was laughable the number of times that someone had either stopped right in front of him to go on their phone, nearly spilled coffee on him as they rushed by, or simply shoved him out of the way to get wherever they were going.

for a few years now, he had genuinely suspected that the universe had some sort of vendetta against him. something always went wrong when he was at the airport, as if he were a magnet that attracted delayed flights and stolen plane seats.

his suspicion only grew when someone collided with him right as he was leaving an airport breakfast shop, knocking his suitcase and recently bought burrito to the ground.

of course.

hajime nearly laughed as he glanced at the splattered remains of his breakfast littering the floor, despite not finding it funny at all.

"oh my god, i am SO sorry!"

looking up from his mangled breakfast, he found you staring at him with wide eyes and an apologetic expression. he would have thought you were pretty if you hadn't just slaughtered his burrito.

sighing, he glanced once more at the sight before looking back to you. "It's fine, don't worry about it—"

"please, let me buy you another one! that was completely my fault, it's the least i could do." you stepped forward, already reaching for his suitcase and walking back toward the store before he had time to protest.

he huffed out a breath, causing you to look back over your shoulder with a stubborn smile. "come on, it'll take, like, two minutes. consider it my karmic punishment."

hajime didn't have time for this. maybe any other day when he wasn't at his own personal hell and was in a better mood, but he was already running late for his flight and didn't need time to worry about a stubborn girl risking him missing it.

"no," he said, grabbing his suitcase back from you. "i said its fine. thanks." and with that, he turned on his heel to leave, ignoring your complaints.

part of him felt a little bad for dismissing you so quickly, but guilt could wait. he was already pretty pissed off, and would rather not awkwardly wait in line with a stranger while his replacement breakfast was made.

fortunately, with an hour seconds to spare, hajime forgot all about that little mishap as he approached the attendant desk. unfortunately, he barely even got a word out before he was met with the words that he probably should have been expecting:

"your flight's been delayed, sir."

of course.

he didn't even respond to the attendant, just let out a sharp breath before turning around, only to be met with your face.

he blinked, and it took everything in him not to lose it. he knew it wasn't your fault that the airport and everyone inside it seemingly hated him, but he couldn't help but be a little weirded out considering you followed him all the way to his gate. "you're—"

"—also on this flight." you cut in, raising your ticket. "not stalking you, promise."

again, he blinked. and blinked a second time. then said, mostly to himself,

"of course."

he wasn't sure whether he had given up at that point or just really wanted that damn burrito, but when you shot him a sly grin and said, "so, about that breakfast..." he found himself grumbling before following you back to the shop.

you watched him scarf down that burrito like a man starved.

"...you must really like burritos, huh?"

his eyes flicked up to yours, and he swallowed the rest of his bite before finally setting it down for a second. "mhm."

since you two got to the breakfast store, you had only made small talk before sitting down at a little table in the corner. during that time, you learned that his name was iwaizumi, he was an athletic trainer, and that, apparently, he thought being anything less than an hour early to board was cutting it close.

"oh, so you're that type of person," you teased. "the 'needs to arrive two hours before boarding' type."

he scoffed, and you looked over to find his eyes already on yours. you took this moment to really look him over since you had bumped into him earlier. he had tanned skin, green eyes, and caught his muscles flexing as he reached over to his drink. he was actually rather good-looking, a realization that made your brain short-circuit for a moment.

"it's called being prepared," he said, giving you a flat look. "maybe if you were like me, you wouldn't be here with three dollars less to your name for a replacement breakfast."

"i promise i don't make a habit of assaulting people's meals," you laughed. "...but, if i hadn't, i wouldn't be sitting here across from a cute guy with a burrito obsession."

he stared at you for a second before looking away with a smile, and you swear you could see a slight pink tinge to his cheeks. for someone who looked like he could bench-press twice your weight, he sure blushed easily.

you still felt really bad about the earlier incident, but he seemed fine now. in fact, as he finished up his burrito, his mood had improved a lot. he was more talkative while the two of you waited for the flight time to arrive, and even offered to help you hold your carry-on while both of you walked back over to the gate.

"you know, you scared me," you joked. "i thought i had horrible game. that was the first time a man has rejected my offer to buy him food. guess you were just hangry, though."

"yeah, well, i wasn't exactly thrilled when my freshly-bought breakfast got ruined. i really wanted that burrito," he faux huffed, the corners of his mouth twitching.

you rolled your eyes as he brought up the incident once again and replied with a laugh, "of course you'd say that. you have a problem, you know."

and, as you boarded the plane, you realized you were smiling to yourself a little too hard. each time you both traded jabs, you'd find him looking away from you a bit too quickly when you made eye contact. he was actually super sweet, and he even walked you all the way to your seat.

or so you thought.

when you sat down at the window, you turned to him only to see his brows furrowing in confusion before lifting his ticket and examining it as if he was double-checking something. and, when the realization dawned on you two, neither of you could help but smile.

of course.

the flight wasn't anything to write home about. hajime slept most of the time while you watched something on your phone.

although he hated plane rides just as much as the airport itself, he didn't mind this one so much. not when the cramped seats forced your thigh to press up against his, flustering him every time the plane bumped and you leaned closer to him without noticing.

maybe he was getting soft, but when the plane finally landed and he left the airport with a new number saved on his phone, he came to one conclusion:

iwaizumi hajime didn't hate the airport so much anymore.

a/n: tbh he would probably take like a private flight or something but he didn’t because i said so div creds bernardsbendystraws & saradika-graphics

[gotham-daydreams]

Falling into Place

Day 2 {Challenge Masterlist}

It was a simple question, a simple conversation. However, this is obviously bigger than they think.

[Yandere Batfam × Gender Neutral! Cop Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of suicide, cults, occult like activities, death, blood, poisoning, violence, brief descriptions of fighting, descriptions of suicide.] (Note: Unless otherwise specified, it's to be believed that actions involved with harming, hurting, or heavily injuring the self are not talking about the Batfamily or the reader. Still, you have been warned.)

Sorry for the huge delay! Got hit with a bit of burnout at the worst moment... whoops!

------------------------

It was well into the morning when Bruce was just about finishing up whatever personal research he could gather. By the time Duke was heading out, Bruce was still by the batcomputer, trying to gather all he could on his own - and though he didn’t learn as much as he’d like, he knew enough to tell Duke to keep him posted on any activity he ran into during the day.

Again, Bruce wasn’t able to gather much, especially since the group themselves didn’t seem to have an official name, but based on what he was told the previous night, he had just enough to find what he could with a group that supposedly had no name. One thing he gathered is that they were more active in the day, but even then, they weren’t exactly known for grand or flashy displays - working and tampering in more odd and underground areas, which explains how they managed to slip past him for a while. Though, what he still couldn’t get was when, exactly, they arrived in Gotham, and when they seemed to leave Metropolis. That was one of the more important questions Bruce had wanted to answer, but, again, no luck.

It was then that Bruce had a choice. He could either keep going at this by himself, and risk spending more time than necessary on just trying to gather information when this cult was out there, doing god knows what in his city, and striving to achieve… well, whatever their end goal is - or he could ask for help, and potentially get things moving along faster so he can handle this quicker and much more efficiently.

There are countless reasons why Bruce didn’t want to make that call, a big one was that he didn’t want to involve more people into what was clearly a Gotham problem. These were people he was dealing with, humans, he’s supposed to be able to handle it on his own. That’s what he does. That’s what he’s supposed to be doing. Yet, if those in the manor with him now couldn’t sense anything… not even Cassandra and Damian… something was wrong. Not to mention that there was just a weird feeling Bruce was getting from all this. It all felt off in a way he didn’t know how to explain.

So, reluctantly, Bruce makes the call - but not after a few minutes of staring at his phone, and brooding.

In his defense, it was too early for something like this… for him, anyway, seeing as it was only ten o’clock.

-----------------------

When Clark came over, it was Alfred who greeted him, and let him in. The butler swiftly led the super to the batcave, and offered tea along with some biscuits and other things Alfred had prepared that morning as they walked. Of course, Clark took Alfred up on his offers, and when he reached the batcave, he had finished his tea, and had a few crackers in hand.

There, as usual, Bruce didn’t bother with greetings or formalities, and instead got straight to business.

“Tell me everything you know about this cult.”

Clark had to take a small moment to swallow down the cracker he had been chewing on just as he walked in, “Which one?”

Bruce exhaled heavily, “The one that came from your city, to mine.”

Now, that made Clark pause in his movements. Taking a breath, he took a few steps forward, and got more situated within the confines of the cave. “They came here? I mean- I heard them start to move, but I didn’t think they’d settle in Gotham too,” Clark admits, looking at Bruce, clearly concerned.

Bruce furrows his brows at the response, “‘too’? They went to other areas-?”

Just before the question could fully escape the detective, Duke’s commlink buzzes to life.

[“Uh, Signal, reporting in.”] Bruce looks over to the computer, shooting a glance at Clark before bringing his full attention to Duke.

“Anything come up?” He asks, hearing a short huff on the other end.

[Collecting his thoughts, Duke takes a moment before saying, “Beside the usual small fry, there’s nothing to report. Some guys just tried to vandalize the library and wreck the place, buuuuuut I don’t think that there’s much else-”]

“Have any bakeries or floral shops been attacked or stolen from? Maybe a grocery store, or something like that?” Clark suddenly chips in, now paying more attention to the screens too, “Something like a large pot, a whole shopping cart or basket of food items?”

[“Oh- okay, um, another flower shop was stolen from, and some guy was trying to steal another pot of, uh, what did the guy call them- irises? And someone was trying to break into the greenhouse- but even if I was able to stop them, someone must’ve snuck in during the night or earlier this morning before my patrol, since whatever virus that other place had got there too. And y’know how things are taken care of in the greenhouse, there’s no way something like that got there naturally and got so bad-”]

Clark’s brows furrowed, and he caressed his chin, deep in thought, but a strange detail was evident - he was nervous.

Noticing a change in the super’s demeanor quickly, Bruce asks, “What’s wrong, Clark?”

Not getting a response right away was suspicious enough, and the longer Clark took to say anything, the worse Bruce felt. Narrowing his eyes, the vigilante continues to inspect his friend - as if he could catch what was wrong before Clark could put it to words.

The super was tense and on edge, that much was obvious. Looking noticeably disturbed, almost pale - Bruce knew that whatever Clark was thinking about, obviously wasn’t helping - but that was the thing. Was Clark thinking about something, or did Duke’s response spark a memory of some kind? After all, from what Bruce could gather, he’s been dealing with this group for much longer, and if the earliest, possible headline he could find was anything to go off of - the super has been dealing with this group for a couple of months at the very least. About five if he had to give a specific number. It wasn’t a long time, but it was more time than Bruce, and that was the biggest difference. Clark knew the group, Bruce didn’t. Not yet.

Yet whatever the super was recalling now clearly disturbed him, and Clark was getting worse by the minute.

“Clark, talk to me-”

[“OH! Uh, Hi? [Last Name], right? What’re you doing here-?”]

That seemed to snap Clark out of whatever trance he was in, and draw Bruce’s focus away from Clark for the time being. The single mention of that name caught both of their attention - but for two different reasons. One out of familiarity, and the other out of slight suspicion.

“They’re awake at this time-?”

“Officer [Last Name] is with you, Signal?” Clark asks, tone a touch lighter now, his complexion becoming a bit better - and Bruce had to wonder if it was because Clark knew the officer, or something else was going on between the two for the super to act in such a way. Was it a matter of a simple, brief distraction? Or was there some history here that Bruce didn’t know about?

Something bubbled in Bruce’s gut, and he looked back to the screen once again. Nothing about this felt particularly good, and there was that sense again, of convenience. He wouldn’t call it easy per say, no, it just all felt too… simple. Like they were being led down some kind of path. Like he was being guided down a certain train of thought, or being purposefully put on some kind of path. By who, or why, Bruce doesn’t know yet, but he will. He always finds out.

Regardless, just sitting here and thinking wasn’t going to do him any favors, and frankly, he was wasting time - everyone was, and you seemed to be conveniently tied to this case too, so he might as well take this opportunity while it’s given to him. If this turned out to be some kind of play, or was another means to set him on a certain path… well, he has a few cards to play too. The house always wins, and Bruce practically owns this place. This is his territory, and no one can trick him while on his playing field. No one.

“Bring [Last Name] to the manor.” Bruce says, suddenly cutting into the conversation Clark and Duke were having.

[Duke is shocked into silence for a second, before he quickly recovers and utters a small, “Are you sure?” Which, yeah. While Bruce always seems to know what he’s doing, the young vigilante couldn’t help but hesitate and feel unsure. Was that the best idea? And even then, why did Bruce want to see you? Duke feels like he’s missing something here.]

“Yes, now, send them over, Duke.” After getting a reluctant ‘alright,’ in response, the connection is cut, and Bruce turns to look at the super standing beside him - who looks at him curiously and a bit confused.

Straightening out his posture, Bruce only says, “Clark, meet me out in front, and leave the glasses here.”

-----------------------

Arriving at Wayne Manor felt strange enough, but being guided there and given a ride by one of Bruce Wayne’s supposed adopted children felt weirder. The building practically loomed over you, and sure, you were used to the feeling since you came from the city, but something felt different about it now as compared to every other instance before. Like even the shadow it casted over you held a deep secret.

Honestly, something like this was bound to happen, but to be here now, and actually at the foot of the door leading into the manor? Well, you could certainly understand why so many people feared the Waynes just as much as others respected them. The building certainly reflected the people it housed incredibly well, almost unnervingly so.

Regardless, just as you didn’t think the situation could get any stranger, just as you were about to knock on the door, a gust of wind blew behind you, and you felt an all too familiar presence as the wind settled. It was only then that you decided to ring the doorbell instead, and straightened yourself out as you made small fixes to your attire and appearance.

“Didn’t expect to be seeing you here, Superman,” You greet, glancing over you shoulder to look at the superhero, who floated in the air beside you before deciding he had enough of the air, and touched the ground with practiced ease. One can’t help but wonder just how long it took him to land in such a way that didn’t shatter the earth beneath his feet upon impact, but, ah, those were questions for another day, perhaps.

Giving you that bright, charming smile he was known for, the hero nods, “Mr. Wayne gave me a call too, but honestly I’m a little surprised!” He chuckles casually, the gesture just as broad as his frame and smile, “It’s good to see you though, [Last Name], some of the officers miss you back in Metropolis - and some other folks too. You must be incredibly social to have so many friends!”

At that, you give a small shrug that matches the hero’s tone, “I have a big family, y’know? And it never hurts to be friendly, especially with so much trouble around, y’know?” You give a chuckle of your own, though it’s more light, and kept a touch low, “Though, it’s a little funny, honestly.”

Superman gives you a curious look, “What is?”

You give a smile of your own to the hero, “The fact that a man like him, can get someone like you to call him ‘Mr.Wayne’ instead of just ‘Bruce’.”

He raises his brows, and snickers a little himself, “Really? Well… I guess it is a little funny when you put it that way, but what makes you say that?”

“Hm, let’s just say I had the impression you two would be closer than that.”

Before Superman could ask you any more questions, the door is finally answered, and you’re greeted with the sight of a butler. Your attention immediately shifts to the older man, who you greet with a simple smile as you look away from the hero. ‘This must be Alfred Pennyworth. Honestly, he looks better than I thought - much healthier too.’ You think to yourself, and are subsequently proven right when he speaks.

“Sorry for the delay, Master Bruce is ready for you two now. Please, come in,” the words fell out of his mouth with a certain grace that couldn’t be ignored, and the voice he had just naturally commanded attention - holding elegance, authority, and yet in a way that none of it felt impolite or rude. All things that you didn’t see very often, and suddenly, you found yourself liking this ‘Alfred’ character more and more by the second, even if you had only met him today.

Still, you wave off his words, “Please, there’s no need to apologize, the wait wasn’t long at all,” and step inside while half way through your sentence. Superman follows in right after you, agreeing and saying something similar. It was small, subtle, but you could help but sense a feeling of familiarity between the two interacting, but brushed it off. Now wasn’t the time to focus on such things, and besides, you couldn’t waste this opportunity, could you? After all, it’s not every day someone is given the chance to just waltz into Wayne Manor - and you were lucky enough to be given such a chance. Really, you almost felt honored.

Moving on, Alfred led both you and the hero through the gigantic building, and eventually stopped just before a room. Once Alfred opened the door, you took a brief look around, and hummed, a bit impressed. For something that you assumed to be akin to a common room, or sitting room of sorts, it still looked very well furnished and taken care of - but having a lot of money certainly help with that, even if you’ve heard that Alfred is the only servant at the manor. He must be a very skilled and particular man, but still, it seems odd to see only one butler no matter how capable he is - that couldn’t be very efficient, could it? Hm.

Nevertheless, it took little effort at all to spot Bruce Wayne in all of his glory, and to your slight surprise, he didn’t look like he had just rolled out of bed - though, even for small, sudden invites like this, a celebrity must keep appearances, you suppose.

He gestures for you and Superman to take a seat, saying to “Make yourselves at home,” to which, you both promptly do so and take a seat to the couch opposite to Bruce with a comfortable amount of distance between the three of you.

You let Superman ask, “So, what did you need us for, Mr. Wayne?” since it seemed to make the most sense to have him ask instead of yourself. While he does so, you take the time to get a bit comfortable. Leaning back against the cushions, crossing one leg over the other, and taking the cup of tea that’s offered to you when Alfred comes up next to you with the tray.

As you take a sip of the tea while it’s still hot, Bruce simply replies, “Ah, I guess I should’ve offered some kind of explanation beforehand, my apologies .” Offering a carefree smile, and you had to give him some credit, for someone with a reputation like his, he does little to disprove any of the rumors you’ve heard. Though, maybe that’s a little rude - seeing as he’s only just spoken. “I’m also sorry for the short notice, but- you see, I’ve heard that something is going on in Gotham, and I’d like to hear all about it from those that seem to know the most about it!... From what I’ve heard, anyway.”

Now that makes you raise a brow, hm.

You’re plenty aware that Bruce Wayne may as well own the city, and it doesn’t surprise you in the slightest he likes to keep up to date on what’s going on, more so than him knowing to reach out to you and Superman. The group has been careful, and yes, while it makes sense for Bruce to have connections to people who could inform him of anything going on anywhere - and he certainly has the wealth to manage such a system - you still can’t help but be curious as to why he asked for you. Did he know the group came from Metropolis? That explains why you and Superman are here, but how did Bruce know that? How?

You pull the porcelain cup away from your lips. Now he’s really got your attention.

The most obvious question comes to mind first, “Where you’d hear that from, if you don’t mind me asking, Mr. Wayne?”

The wealthy man chuckles, a sort of naturally charming smirk growing on his face, “I have my ways,” of course someone like him would say that, “and, please, call me Bruce- ‘Mr. Wayne’ was my father.” With that, he took a sip of… what you assumed to be coffee by the faint smell. Curious.

“It’s fine, I insist,” your smile grows a bit before you move the conversation along, already getting a feel what was at play here, “anyway, what would you like to know, and about what, Mr. Wayne?” The huff that escapes him at your ‘insistence’ is incredibly amusing to hear, but you see he just brushes it off, and also decides to leave it be.

“Very well then, I’m sure you’ve seen it- or at least heard of it, officer, but…” Bruce goes onto explain the little he can, and though he is only able to vaguely describe what he means, you know what he’s talking about, and Superman seems to as well. Though, curiously enough, he asks you for details first.

Of course, you insist that Superman is more than suitable to give basic details, but when the hero himself insists, well, it doesn’t take much for you to relent.

When told to start from the beginning, you just say how originally there was a call about some loud and strange noises coming from someone’s neighbor, so, being the officer closest to the building, naturally you were put to the task to deal with the problem. The only thing was that, when you got there, well, the sight was gruesome, and when you finally got the door open thanks to a stray shot someone had taken - well, they were just about finishing up. You stated how originally you thought you had walked in a group suicide, and didn’t think anything else was going on until a similar instance popped up, and then another, and another. How, before you knew it, you were following a loose, bread crumb trail of similar situations that had the same outcome once an outsider arrived at the scene.

“Really, no one knows what it was, at first,” you try to explain, “but, again, before you know it, we’re trying to catch these guys before they even know we’re there, and find them doing these weird meetings, chanting, doing all sorts of rituals, and the like. They wouldn’t wear robes and do all of that cliche stuff- but they did all have some kind of marking somewhere on their person, nothing really seemed to connect the deaths besides the marking, and the most we could gather is that the place of the mark on a person’s body was symbolic to them. Though, that’s just a running theory. We haven’t had anyone able to actually confirm that yet.”

Bruce raises a brow, “Like… a similar injury or something? A symbol?”

You make a so-so gesture with your hand, “Yes, but it can differ from each person. It’s odd, but it’s like their way of showing some kind of connection, without making it too obvious that they’re all connected. Though, there are some similarities, like how the marking is carved into the skin, and represents a star or circle or eclipse of some kind.”

Superman agrees, adding, “I haven’t seen many of the symbols myself, but those I have did seem to show the sun in some way, but more often than not, it’s like they were trying to imply a blocked out sun.”

“Like a solar eclipse?” Bruce tries to confirm, brows furrowing.

“Yes,” Superman nods, though you notice how he starts to pale slightly. Hm.

From there, you go on and explain what you can - not going into full detail, but seemingly giving all the information you could provide, and to a civilian at that. With Superman chipping in every now and again, including some of what he’s seen and experienced on his own as well, which was… enlightening. More so than you thought when you originally saw him, but interesting all the same. Though, you do take note of just how little he’s giving as well. Most of his powers are no secret if you know who to ask, and just from that alone, you knew he wasn’t saying as much as he could, but didn’t press or even try to push. After all, you were just a police officer, weren’t you?

Regardless, the conversation goes on for a little longer. With you even mentioning how the group is normally separated, and each subdivision acts as their own entity despite reacting the same to being ‘caught’ and having very similar practices. Some will try to spread what they preach through acting as a church, and only letting in their most devout followers, to more lowkey approaches such as hiding what they’re really doing through parties, or college club activities, and so on. No official name is known about the group, and aside from the markings, similarities in practices, and whatever it is they preach, there is another thing that ties them together - and it’s arguably the biggest tie all the groups have to one another.

“It’s an event they keep mentioning, but no one knows what it really is. Considering their other… practices, everyones a little concerned to find out what it entails, but if you ask me, it could also be something they use to scare new followers- even if it sounds… well, for lack of a better term, ‘edgy’.” Bruce raises a brow at your words, and gestures for you to continue.

“Well… don’t leave me hanging, what’s the event called?”

“The Red Dawn.”

“... Do you have any idea what they even mean by that?”

“Not a clue, sorry, Mr. Wayne. Though, I doubt it’s anything to worry about. The only ones these people seem to be hurting is themselves, after all, and while I do intend to stop them and put an end to this, I doubt they’ll hurt anyone outside of their little ‘circle’.”

“Oh… alrighty, then.” Taking a sip of his cup, Bruce lets the information settle in before deciding to ask, “Do you think that could be the name of their group? Especially if they care about that ‘event’ so much, it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to assume that, right? Not the most creative thing to do… but it makes some kind of sense, no?”

You offer a small smile, as if trying to reassure the man, “I highly doubt it. If that was their name, we would’ve known by now with the months that have passed, and besides, while that does seem to be an event they are focused on- I think it's only that. Just another small thing that just so happens to connect all the groups together or a name they go by as a collective, and even then it would suggest a kind of unity that we just don’t see in the group. As similar as they are, they are still divided. Well, from what we could gather, anyway.”

Bruce only gives a nod, “I see…”

With that, after a bit longer of conversing, you’re essentially let go. Bruce thanks you for the information, and sends you on your way, but not before mentioning a party he plans to host on Halloween with one last flash of a smile despite the conversation you just had, and Superman gives you a wave, saying he hopes to see you back in Metropolis soon, and to keep up the good work - but only when he’s essentially made to stay when Bruce says he has more questions to ask the hero. You don’t bother to question it, and just let Alfred lead you to the door - who wishes you the best of luck on the case, and to have a good day. Bruce Wayne was rich, you wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out he had some special relationship with half the heroes on Earth, but that wasn’t worth thinking about now.

Especially not when you noticed someone at the door.

“... Should I ask why a kid like you is trying to hide in his own bushes, or is it just some ‘teenager thing’ I don’t understand, Thomas?” At the sound of your voice, and the sudden call out, Duke tenses and practically springs to life all over again as he jumps and practically scrambles to keep himself straight. You raise a brow at the defensive stance he initially takes, but upon noticing you, the teenager eases, and lets out a sigh of relief.

Clearing his throat, he says, “Uh, hi, officer [Last Name]! I… didn’t realize it would be over so soon! Haha!” His nervous response gets a snicker out of you, which only seems to further his own embarrassment, and thus, makes you more amused.

Though, you spare him some of the torment and don’t openly laugh at him, and instead just ask, “What’re you doing out here, kid? Can’t you just head inside? Since, y’know, you live here?” You tease a little, resting your hands on your hips, “Or am I mistaken?”

Duke chuckles awkwardly at your words, straightening himself out, shifting in place a bit, “No- no, I just… wanted some air?” He didn’t sound too sure of himself, but you let the teenager be, and just gave a nod.

“Right. Well, enjoy the outdoors in the bushes, Thomas, I’ll see you soon.” With one last amused grin, you take your leave, and once again wave behind you.

Honestly, you thought you’d just walk off silently once again, but this time, a yell is heard from behind you after you hear some shuffling around and the sound of rustling leaves.

“Wait-! Uh- Thanks for the muffin and small snacks from yesterday! They were really good!” You hear Duke shout, “Have a good day!” He seems to mumble something under his breath, but you’re too far away to hear it.

Regardless, you just continue to walk, and soon shove both your hands in your pockets.

You walk away with a smile.

-----------------------

Back in the Manor, Bruce takes a long sip of his coffee, and looks over to Clark - who looks down at the cup of tea in his hands.

“So?”

The super runs a hand through his hair, taking a moment to respond, but even then he seems confused, almost distressed, “It lines up, but I’ll be honest, Bruce. I don’t remember half of what they mentioned. Even the half I did remember… some of it I could barely recall.”

The vigilante stops, becoming too still to pause, and yet not stiff enough to freeze as he just stares at Clark. It’s only after a few beats of silence, and setting his cup to the side that he’s able to ask the only sensible question to a response like that, “What do you mean?”

Clark takes another second, running his hand down from his hair, to his neck and rubbing the muscle there, as if trying to soothe himself before taking in a deep breath, “Y’know that church [Last Name] mentioned? Yeah, I tried to do some research of my own, and went in as a curious journalist who was just trying to see what the church was like, and so on- you know how it is. I got there for the first sermon, bright and early, but when the pastor started to talk… well, the next thing I know is that I’m outside of the church, the service ended, and it’s now night. I was there all day, but didn’t remember any of it. I even checked my notes and everything- nothing. Like all I did was just… sit there, and then leave after everything was done.” It’s then that he looks at Bruce, distress a little clearer now.

“Of course, I tried a few more times, but the same thing kept happening, and the only thing that changed was that I started to feel sick- just really… gross and horrible all over, like going to each service was literally draining the energy out of me- and I noticed it wasn’t just the church either. I’d try to help out with bigger cases that dealt with the group and sometimes I’d just suddenly end up somewhere totally different, with no memory of how I got there, or what I did during that time.” He takes a breath, caressing the fragile china in his hands, and he raises the cup to his lips, but doesn’t take a sip right away. Instead, he lets it sit there, barely an inch in front of his face. “It wasn’t so bad at first. Just a few seconds or minutes lost with nothing really being done- it was harmless, just a little disorientating at times, but nothing to really worry about. But then… then it got longer the more I tried to help and involved myself with solving the problem. I lost countless minutes, even hours, and ended up in areas with little to no memory of how I got there, and decided it was best to pull away when an entire week had passed, with me having no memory of what happened, what I did, or where I even was- which was hundreds of miles away from Metropolis.”

It’s only as Clark takes another sip of his tea, which is a little cold by now, does Bruce use that opportunity to speak. Not only to get to the bottom of this, but to help his friend with this as well - since it’s clearly distressing the super one way or another.

“Do you think it’s some form of mind control?” When Clark shakes his head, Bruce gives him time to gather his thoughts and explain.

“I’m… not sure. Naturally, I tried to not get as involved, but couldn’t let the group spread or- or let them do whatever they wanted freely, so I asked for some help and it had… varying results.” He takes a moment to sigh, finishing the tea as he sets it to the side, and tries to find a way to say what he was thinking, “Some of those who are nonhuman were like me- they’d start to feel horribly sick after a few days, and lose track of time, starting out in small amounts, and eventually jumping to days and weeks, the others… well, they were like our human allies.”

The vigilante’s brows crease at that, “... Which means?”

Clark scratches the back of his neck, looking away as he tries to gather his thoughts, “I don’t know how exactly to explain it- but after some time, they’d become… too interested in the case. Trying to get more involved with things then they needed to be, and basically became… well, I don’t know if there’s a better term to use, but they almost seemed obsessed with the group, Bruce. It was.. horrible to watch, and I guess I just want to say…” he drags on, not sure if he should add more or not, but his heart gets the best of him, and he sighs heavily. Looking back at Bruce, he continues, “Please, be careful with this. You and your family. I really mean it, please.”

Bruce takes a moment to look at his friend, and take in the concerned look on his face. This wasn’t the first time the super had expressed his concerns, but if there was ever a moment that felt like Clark would genuinely do something if Bruce didn’t listen, or really wanted him to take what he was saying seriously, since Clark himself knew how Bruce is and could be - this would be one of them. The super was always openly and naturally caring, even if he worried too much at times, but something felt different this time around, and that was saying something.

Still, Bruce could only nod after a sigh of his own, “We’ll try our best,” is the best he could give.

… A moment of silence passes. With Alfred taking the opportunity to refill Clark’s cup, and allowing Bruce to finish his. It’s a gesture, in a way, to let the super relax, and to remind him that if he needed a small break, then he was more than welcome to take it here - and Clark seemed to realize that as he let himself ease slightly. This whole thing had taken its toll on the super, that was obvious from how he’s been acting all day thus far, and the worst part of it all was that it wasn’t even over. However, there also wasn’t an immediate need to acknowledge that right now, and so, both men took in this little breather, knowing they’d have to get back to work once it ended - and when that happens, who knows when they’ll get a chance to breathe like this again?

It’s that very thought that makes it stretch on for just a little longer, lasting until Bruce is on his second cup, and Clark is nearly on his third - and only then is it broken when Bruce asks, “What were you talking about before, when you said you didn’t think they’d ‘settle’ in Gotham too?”

With one last small sip, Clark says, “A while ago, I heard some of the voices I recognized as members of the group were getting further away, almost spreading out. I couldn’t tell where they were headed exactly, but they just seemed to… disburse. Go their separate ways,” a brow of his furrows again as he adds, “I don’t know if anything caused them to move, or if the directions they went in and the cities they possibly went to, was some calculated move- but I do suspect it was an organized effort. For what? I couldn’t say, but more mentions of that ‘Red Dawn’ [Last Name] talked about earlier did pop up around the city for a day or two before anyone went anywhere.”

Bruce hums at the information, taking mental notes before asking, “Is it possible that some members might still be in Metropolis and other cities near there?”

The super thinks for a moment, but eventually nods, “I wouldn’t see why not, and I could check to find out as many groups as I can, and try to keep you updated on that end.”

“That’d be a big help, Clark. Thanks,” Bruce gives a nod of his own, and Clark smiles.

“Of course! Anything to help, Bruce.”

———————————————

Despite the morning that had transpired, the night was relatively normal - it was for Jason, anyway. If anything, it seemed to lack a little more action than it usually did, but hey, the night was still young, and in Gotham it was always too early to make that kind of call.

Regardless, Jason just went about his night. Taking out a few criminals he ran into here and there, staying out of sight of his old man and Cass, the usual. Nothing stood out, and honestly Jason was starting to think that nothing outside of the ordinary would actually happen. Though, that is until he notices some shady looking people sneak their way behind a building, and hears a garage door open from where he was standing. Now, what was going on there…?

“BOO!”

Just as Jason took a step forward, about to tail the shady figures, he felt a sudden weight on his head, shoulders - which caused him to stumble on his footing, and though he barely caught himself, the vigilante found himself irritated as he yelped out a, “WHAT THE HELL-?!”

Giggling could be heard above him, “Did I scare ya? Admit it! I got you that time!” The grin was even evident in her voice, and Jason didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

“Get the hell off of me, Steph!” Jason hissed out instead, completely ignoring the fact he had ‘caught’ her on instinct, not wanting her to fall off and risk hurting herself with her reckless behavior.

“Aw, c’mon! I totally got you!” Stephanie said loudly with a laugh, only to yelp when she was practically thrown off of Jason’s shoulders, and even if she swiftly caught herself she still looked at Jason and huffs, crossing her arms, “Why can’t you just admit it? There’s no need to be so rude about it, y’know!”

Jason just scoffs, “You didn’t get me, okay? Just leave me alone, squirt.”

Stephanie, of course, doesn’t and sticks around - and as annoyed as Jason acts, he does little to actually push her away. The banter continues, and for a moment they are more than just two vigilantes, but instead, family in their own simple yet messy way. Both of their definitions of such a thing skewed, warped, and changed as they’ve grown up and lived through their lives, along with their definition of love, but now, something like that didn’t seem to matter. It didn’t, and even as they went after the shady figures Jason had seen earlier, it only seemed to matter less as the banter continued.

Dealing with crime in Gotham was always the same, and growing up on the streets made it easier to adapt to the different locations criminals liked to tuck themselves into - so much so that each location almost felt the same. The routine was familiar, sneak into the place, try to pick up on whatever was going on, and put a stop to it. Smugglers were common, nothing new, but what was curious was seeing how much of their supplies they had - guys must’ve been stacking up for weeks, maybe longer, but that didn’t matter. A trade of some kind was clearly going on, and as always, it was their job to figure out what was going on and to stop it.

Sticking to the shadows was second nature for numerous reasons, and the conversation they overheard sounded like the same one they’ve heard time and time again - seriously, did anyone ever think of something new to say? Or any other way to say things?

“You’ve got it?” “The load of it that was designated to us, yes.” “Is it ready?” “Yes.” “Are you certain?” “You know we can’t stall. Just take the load, and take it to the next destination.”

“Right.”

Just as the other spokes person made a gesture for the people behind them to gather the goods, that’s when the first strike was dealt. Stephanie had snuck up on a guy, and got things started, and as usual, the people pulled their guns - so Jason got to work.

Yet, just as he fired the first shot at someone’s shoulder, and they fired their own, did the vigilantes realize where the guns were actually pointed.

The criminals had their guns pointed at one another.

The shot Jason fired hit its mark, but so did the other as in one instance, Stephanie had someone in a chokehold, and in the next - there was no brain to send air too anymore. No eyes to roll back, and while the body went limp, what remained of the head was splattered on the young vigilante, and the space behind her.

More went off, and it took Jason a second too late to spring into action, and Stephanie a few more as the gunshots kept going off - and yet not a single bullet got close to her direction, unlike that first one. There was always a body in the way, and god, all she felt was sick. Though, when practically shoved to the side by Jason did she snap out of it a little, and try to save whoever was left.

They worked in a frenzy, trying to do what they could - even if Jason found out very quickly that just getting them out of the way wasn’t enough, as he heard a weird crunch come from the mouth of the woman he just saved, only for her to give a twisted smile before she started to seize, foam at the mouth, and he could do nothing as he watched her eyes roll to the back of her head but curse.

“DON’T LET THEM CLOSE THEIR MOUTHS! THEY’RE POISONING THEMSELVES!”

Oh, but Jason said it too late, as Stephanie also had the vial pleasure of watching the body seize and subsequently die in her arms despite her own attempts. They still tried, of course, because what else could they really do? Yet, the result was the same. It was like watching a massacre, except… well, the very people who died caused it.

All wasn’t lost as they were able to save two people out of the handful they had run into in the storage space, but at least it was something, right?

One of the criminals didn’t speak, and only glared at the vigilantes, while the other laughed suddenly as the two tried to catch their breaths. The man’s gruff laugh cutting through the deafening silence, blood now coating the walls, bodies lying about… how could anyone laugh at a time like this? Especially when his supposed comrades have just died right in front of him?... Not that the person glaring at them looks any more distraught or distressed at all by this turn of events.

When the man starts to speak, that sickened feeling Stephanie felt before grows, and a similar seed is planted in Jason’s gut - and that really said something, since they’ve heard maniacs go on all kinds of long winded rants unprompted… but this felt different. It lacked the sick humor of Joker explaining his schemes, or the thought and linguists put behind Riddler’s verbal puzzles, and just felt misplaced. As a pair, as vigilantes they’ve heard plenty of talks just like this, and yet… something about it stopped Jason from pulling the trigger early, or from either of them doing something to stop the man, and to just shut him up. Perhaps the sight they just witnessed was taking its toll on them now, but that coupled with this? This wasn’t just some run of the mill thing. This was deliberate, but wasn’t a trap either.

Still, the man goes on, even when his voice becomes hoarse as his vocals fight against the restraint put in between his teeth - just enough space to make him unable to not poison himself with… whatever chemical he had that’d do him in like the others who still had their heads intact. They strain as he wheezes out a laugh, actions rough for someone tied down, and left sitting on his ass. Just as his nails bloody as he scratches at his restraints, his own words scratch at his throat the more he speaks. So much so that instead of spit, blood flies out as he continues, going on about some higher being, how they’ve helped him see the light, and how just their presence alone has made him understand what ‘needs to be done’. How he knows they will guide him to a better end, because he can feel it when he’s close, that he is doing the right thing, and that they have become so connected with… whoever he’s describing, that even being in the city now satisfies him enough, and makes him see sense even in the most vial of situations.

It’s all nonsense, it has to be, of course it is - yet they listen anyway, unwillingly, unable to move, and he doesn’t stop. Will he ever?

“This world will experience a new beginning! A chance to be reborn anew, to be remade! And only by the best, as they are the only one who can be trusted with such a task!” The man’s laugh almost sounds like a bowl coupled with a growl at this point, “The skies will turn red, the night will vanish and be replaced with a light never seen before as we are all accepted into paradise! The sun will encapsulate the sky in a way it never has before, and reveal the true colors that the world has kept away from us! It will be one! We will be one! It was always meant to be one!”

Red runs down from his lips, and yet he continues despite the strain in his voice as his shouts become louder, practically booming in the small space, “The waters will churn like acid in the stomach, eyes will be drawn to the vessel who will bring upon the awakening of the world, and everyone’s hearts will be taken ahold of as they all come to realize that we are in good hands! Everyone should just accept the end for it is already upon us!” A wheeze escaped instead of a chuckle, but what it is intended to be is not lost on anyone.

“Just a few more measly days remain! Just a little longer and we will all be blessed with the sight of a new day! A new life! A new purpose! The Red Dawn w-”

Finally, it all comes to an abrupt end with one last gun shot. A shot, which goes through the man’s head, and pierces through it so cleanly, that it goes into the other person who was beside him, and drills a similar hole in their head - only stopping when it digs enough to crawl out of that second head, and land on the ground. The gleam of its shine almost innocent, as if it hadn’t killed the last two people who remained of the self-massacre - and now, it is only that. A complete, and utter massacre.

The shot brought both Stephanie and Jason out of the strange trance they found themselves under and tried to recover as quickly as they could. Jason sprung to action and tried to rush out and find whoever killed the people they tried to save- with Stephanie reporting to Bruce.

She tried to explain everything that had happened as hurriedly as she could, feeling sicker than ever and having to force herself to look away from the bodies, along the two new additions to the pile. Honestly, she didn’t even realize she had been hyperventilating until Bruce had her try to calm down, and take deep breaths - and yet every breath she took, she could only smell blood, earth, and an odd hint of something sweet that settled on the back of her tongue. Everything about it made her want to throw up, but she managed and tried to compose herself as much as she could.

When asked what was being smuggled, Stephanie looked over to the sacks stacked on top of each other neatly against the wall. Stepping over a few of the bodies, and trying to not look down more than she needed to - she took down one of the sacks and… what?

“It’s- it’s soil?” Why had these people killed themselves over this? There’s no way that this dirt could be worth dying over, right? Maybe it was a cover up. It has to be. It has to.

So, she cuts the bag open and soil spills out, except it looks… weird, “It- it’s either dirt or some weird moss, because there is no way this stuff is supposed to look this red.”

That does it for Bruce, and on his end, he quietly glances at Cassandra before looking out to the city once again, “Bring some of it in if you can, and bring Jason with you.” His voice is firm, and leaves no room for argument… as always.

[“Right, talk to you in a bit, B.”] With that, the connection is temporarily disconnected, and Bruce switches the lines, and immediately talks to Barbara again. Something about how while Superman is doing his search, they have to cover their own bases, and Barbara offers to call Dick to see if he’s run into something similar, and if he’s willing to help out here so they can get everything figured out faster, and Bruce lets her get to it would a simple thanks.

Cassandra can’t help but simply observe, curious as to what’s really going on, but getting a feeling that it’s nothing good. She can see that in the posture of Bruce, but it’s not just him - it’s the commissioner, the officers at the station, and so on. Yet kept so underwraps, that only does actively searching for it can feel it, as the civilians remain unaware, and go on with their lives. Though, something does bother her a little.

She didn’t see you much tonight, but when she did, you seemed just as tired and drained as you did the other night, and yet, there was no evidence of distress. Yes, there was some form of stress there, but you weren’t overly tense or even panicked, and while Cassandra didn’t know much, she could gather enough that something big could be happening. So why weren’t you more concerned? More… paranoid and just generally showed more signs of some inner turmoil like her father? You’ve been involved in this case for longer than he has, and yet… you’re the calmest one compared to everyone else. Cassandra can’t help but wonder why.

… Perhaps it’s about time she helped out in whatever was going on.

[onaswife]

Always yours

Couple: Lia Wälti x reader

AU! Omegaverse, Omega x Alpha.

Note: Sorry for the delay, university evaluations have come out from where I didn't know, so it's a bit of a small thing.

You met your current girlfriend five years ago, when you played against each other in the Champions League. It was your sister who introduced you.

"You can't turn down every opportunity to meet new people, Liten," you sighed audibly. Of the two of you, Caro was the least shy, while you always tended to avoid meeting new people, so you were the first to leave the field and head straight to the locker room to avoid that social interaction.

That day, however, was different. You were going to say hello to Frida, who was your and Caro's teammate on the Norwegian national team, along with Ingrid, who had already joined you.

"You should swap shirts with one of them," Ingrid commented mockingly as she gently pushed you by the shoulder, while your sister laughed happily beside you.

"My second choice was Arsenal, remember that," you replied simply, walking quickly to where Frida was and hugging her. She squealed when she felt your body hit hers, until she recognized you and hugged you tightly.

As you separated from her, you congratulated her on the game you had played.

"Oh, let me introduce you to this girl right here." Frida walked past you and pointed to the girl you had guiltlessly ignored behind you, who was giving you a slightly shy smile. "Hello," her voice sounded low and almost timid, while Frida smiled widely at her side, as if she were introducing you to a puppy.

You stood a little awkwardly in your seat, as you formed a small smile and slowly raised your hand to shake her hand. "Hello…"

"God, does no one know how to say hello properly?" You heard Frida speak, finding it a little difficult to stop staring at the girl in front of you. "Not even a handshake? I understand that a hug is awkward, but at least that's it." Her voice now laced with frustration as she brought her hand to the bridge of her nose, gently pressing it, looking at us out of the corner of her eye.

You nodded slowly as you withdrew your hand from hers, looking anywhere but at her. "Nice to meet you, Lia. I'm Ingrid, and this is Caro, Y/N's sister."

You sighed as you extended your hand toward Frida's classmate, whose name you still didn't know, only that she was very pretty and short, although not as short as some people you knew (e.g., Pina).

"Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N," you smiled politely as you felt her soft palm against yours, while her fingers pressed against the back of your hand, making you blush. "Nice to meet you, I'm Lia."

After that somewhat awkward moment of greetings, you left your sister talking to Frida, Ingrid, and Lia, while you walked to the tunnel, where Alexia was already talking to Jenni, who was looking at you mockingly.

You grunted as you passed her, already expecting her usual jokes about you and your shyness.

"For such a tall, Scandinavian alpha, you're really shy. I thought you guys took control of everything, you know, like your sister used to say."

A few days later, you received a notification on Instagram, the social network you normally used for collaborations with brands and the like. It was a notification about a new follower, nothing unusual; you received hundreds of those every day, but this one was different.

"Shut up, Hermoso, I'm not in the mood for jokes," you murmured as you passed her.

Liawaelti has started following you.

You stared at the screen that was slowly fading in the palm of your hand, already sitting on the couch, where you had been lying minutes before.

You looked at your phone again, thinking about it. She had started following you, and you didn't follow many people in soccer, just close teammates and your sister.

You felt strange. As you checked her profile, you noticed several photos with her teammate, Caitlin, where they looked very close, along with other posts of Lia with Arsenal, on vacation, or with the national team.

You sighed, leaving the phone next to you on the couch as you leaned back against the backrest, thinking about everything.

"Why does it seem like you're thinking about all the mistakes in your life?" You jumped in your seat when you heard your sister's voice. You opened your mouth to ask her what she was doing there. "I called at least four times before your neighbor came out to scold me, so I let myself in with my keys. Is everything okay?" she asked, seeing you staring at the floor.

"It's okay, I was just thinking that my contract was running out and-"

"Don't even think about it, they want to renew your contract and they're going to," you sighed, listening to her words, as you made room for her on your side of the couch. As soon as she sat down, you leaned against her.

Caro was very protective of you, as was your other brother, Fredrik. They were competitive, they argued, they fought, but unlike you, you were their little sister. They still saw you as that 2-year-old who couldn't be away from one of her siblings because she'd start crying thinking she'd been abandoned, who would sneak into her older sister's room at night because she'd had a bad dream, or who always turned to her older brother when she got a small wound.

A week later, the first text arrived. A simple "hello," but it felt like something more to you.

You were both their favorite child, even though they always denied it in public.

And there you are, four years after that awkward start, now Lia's partner. Not much had changed in those years. You were still playing for Barcelona, ​​Lia was still playing for Arsenal. Both of you were still safe options for national teams, although you did go through a period of injuries, nothing you couldn't handle.

From that moment on, the two of you started talking more, making calls or sometimes arranging outings when their schedules coincided. You stumbled into their lives around the time Lia broke up with her partner, although you never knew, since you didn't want to ask.

That day was special, another Champions League match between you. Your team this year was the favorite to win the competition, but everyone knew Arsenal was coming off a great run in England and from previous Champions League matches. So it didn't surprise you much when, from the bench due to injury, you watched after 90 minutes as your girlfriend's team emerged as champions after 18 years.

It hurt you; you felt a little angry with yourself for not being able to play because of the injury, but you were also happy for your girlfriend.

You approached your team, watching as each of them seemed to want to cry at that moment, just like you. You remained silent, watching the English team celebrate with their coaching staff and fans, while all of you were lost in your thoughts.

It wasn't until the medal ceremony that you were able to talk to Lia. Although you didn't like her, simply because of the person who seemed to be clinging to her, like a parasite.

You clung to your jaw as Caitlin wrapped her arms around your omega's waist and rubbed her nose against your mark, making you instantly angry, not out of jealousy—you trusted your girlfriend—but more out of possessiveness.

You'd always liked that, showing others that Lia had chosen you as her alpha, so you tended to be possessive, so your scent was always present in hers, always leaving your hand on her body, or leaving kisses on her face when she was talking to someone you didn't like.

You approached slowly until you were behind Lia.

"Congratulations, love, I'm glad you won, you deserved it." You watched as Caitlin looked you up and down as she snorted and left, while your Omega hugged you tightly, letting you bury your nose in her neck, marking her with your scent and growling in the process.

"I would have loved to celebrate with you… I don't like playing against you in games like that, one of us always lose more," you sighed at her words, trying not to break down right then and there.

You pulled away, bringing your hands up to her cheeks, squeezing them a little. "You deserve it, so now go and enjoy your victory, champ." You placed a kiss on her forehead and both cheeks before letting her go, walking over to where your sister was, her gaze fixed on the grass. You hugged her, and she hugged you back, sinking into the misery you both felt at that moment.

That night, Lia invited you to the small celebration, but you didn't want to go, so you politely declined. Just because you were angry with yourself didn't mean Lia should be the one to pay the consequences. So there you were, lying in the hotel bed where all your teammates were staying, staring at the ceiling while your mind replayed the exact moments of when you lost your chance to play in the final, the moment the game stopped being your team's, and when they lost, all on repeat.

Until around 2 a.m., you received Alessia's message. She first attached a photo and a message, "Caitlin's drunkenly complaining to Lia. I think you should come over." You instantly got up, grabbed your jacket, and walked as quickly as possible to the hotel where they were staying and where the party was being held, which was less than a 5-minute walk away.

You arrived with your heart pounding. From what you knew, Caitlin was still hurt because Lia had broken up with her. Even though she was in a relationship with another teammate, she seemed to feel entitled to make your Omega feel bad, which you weren't going to allow.

You walked in, looking everywhere, trying to find her in the crowd, while keeping your face as serious as possible and regulating your breathing.

"You didn't take long," you looked to your side, seeing the blonde who had texted you.

"Where is she? Is she still bothering her?" Your voice sounded harsher than usual, even your scent was now more sour.

She just pointed you to a spot a little far away, but close to a corner. You didn't even say goodbye; you just walked up to them with the sole idea of ​​getting that woman away from your omega.

"Am I interrupting something?" As soon as the words left your lips, Lia turned around, her eyes shining at the sight of you and a huge smile appearing on her face. "You came, love," she said before colliding with yours.

As you hugged her, you leaned into her neck, smelling Caitlin's scent. You looked over Lia's shoulder, seeing her frowning at them. Your hand moved down to your omega's lower back, watching Caitlin grow more annoyed, while Lia gasped at the feel of your hand.

"I don't know what your intentions are, but for your own good, I want you to stay away from my girlfriend. She made it clear a long time ago that she no longer wants anything to do with you. Also, respect your relationship." Your tone surprised your girlfriend. She had never heard you be so curt with someone, while you felt so possessive over her, making her legs feel like jelly.

Without another word, you grabbed your girlfriend and dragged her out, muttering insults in Norwegian to the Australian woman who seemed to be cursing you from where you left her.

You reached the outside of the room, letting go of her and gently pushing her against the wall. She moaned as she felt the wall pressed against her back.

"I don't want that girl to flirt with you again. She doesn't understand that you're not hers anymore, you're mine." You pressed yourself closer to her body, biting her neck, hearing her moan your name in a low tone.

She brought her hands to your back, digging her nails into your spine as she gave you more access to her neck. "Mine," you repeated, biting her throat and pressing your hands on her hips, while your leg slid between her legs.

"What else do I have to do to make her see that you chose me? Fuck you in front of her? Let her hear you moan my name while you cum on my cock and not hers? That you always think of me when you cum or masturbate for me?" you said now, moving your hips against hers, hearing her gasp more and more frequently.

"God… love," her voice was more muffled, trying not to be loud and not be discovered. "I'm only yours… only yours…"

She gasped before feeling her back arch against the wall, a sign of her orgasm. You smiled sarcastically against her cheek, placing a kiss there.

"Show me where your room is, darling. I'll fulfill my role as your alpha and make sure everyone understands that I've already marked you as mine… and that I'm yours. I love you," you whispered against her ear, feeling the fabric of your pants stick to your thigh where she had previously rubbed against it. She just nodded, taking your hand and leading you to the elevator, where you started kissing freely.

[magic-shop-stories]

Hi! How are you doing? I hope you're doing fine! ✨️💜

I've read all your headcanons so I was hoping if you could accept my request. ✨️

They have been dating reader in secret but their relationship gets leaked (You decide how for each member) and it could be angst?

Thanks you for taking time on reading my ask and hopefully writing my request 💜

Have a nice day! ✨️

💌 Reply:

Hi there! 💜 Thanks so much for your kind message and for loving the headcanons! Absolutely adore this angsty request... I appreciate you sending this in, and hope you have the loveliest day too! ✨ - also I'm sorry for the late reply, but I hope its what you wanted and imagined 💜

-c-

BTS (OT7) x Reader Secret Relationship Leaked 

NAMJOON

-“Not all rainbows need an audience.”-

HOW IT LEAKED

starts with a demo track

Namjoon had been working on a solo project

= raw, unfiltered piece titled “Monochrome Rain” 

inspired by the quiet mornings he spent with you

= the way you’d trace constellations on his back while he scribbled lyrics

= the way your laughter harmonized with his piano’s minor keys

he accidentally uploads an unedited version to SoundCloud, in a sleep-deprived haze

track includes a voicemail snippet of you whispering:

“Come to bed, Joon-ah. The stars can wait.”

fans dissect it within minutes

metadata reveals the recording date

= a night BTS was supposedly in Tokyo

ARMYs cross-reference his old VLives

finding the exact moment he’d glanced offscreen, smile softening as if someone had called his name

hashtags trend: #NamsSecret, #WhoIsShe

by dawn, Dispatch has your name

HIS PUBLIC REACTION

Stage Persona

at press conference for the new album, he’s asked about the leak

adjusts his glasses

CEO-like mask sliding into place

“Music is a diary. Some pages are meant to be read aloud; others… are written in ink that fades.” 

room erupts in chatter

he doesn’t flinch

Weverse

posts a photo of a stormy sky

captioned:

“Not all rainbows need an audience.” 

ARMYs debate if it’s a metaphor or a confession

Damage Control

lets Big Hit release a vague statement about “private matters."

insists on no lies

“I won’t call her a ‘friend.’ She’s… more.”

HIS PRIVATE REACTION

he’s in his studio

staring at the chaos of papers and half-empty coffee cups

when you walk in, he doesn’t turn around

“They’ll dissect you."

voice hollow

“Your childhood photos, your family, the way you pronounce ‘bibliophile’… They’ll say you’re why the album’s delayed.”

you reach for him

he pulls away

pacing like a caged animal

“I knew this would happen. I’m… I’m not safe. I’m a curse.” 

his voice cracks on the last word

suddenly he’s 19 again - rookie leader who apologized for existing (too loudly)

Breaking Point

at 4 a.m.

drags you to Namsan Tower

city lights blurring through his unshed tears

“I wanted to protect you."

rasps, gripping the railing until his knuckles bleach

“But I’m just… a man who loves too loudly in a world that demands whispers.”

you kiss his trembling hands

he collapses into you

he's muttering into your hair like a prayer

AFTERMATH

Professional Life

Album

releases “Monochrome Rain” as the title track

rewrites the bridge

new lyrics gut you: 

“Love, a language too heavy for my tongue / I bite the words, let them bruise my lungs.”

Interviews

when asked about the “mystery muse” he smirks

“Art thrives in shadows. But if you listen closely… she’s in every breath.”

Personal Life

New Rules

no more lazy Sundays at Han River

instead, he rents a secluded cabin under a fake name

“Kim Namjoon? Never heard of him”

buys a vintage typewriter to write you letters

unsigned

Guilt

starts therapy

scribbles in his journal

“How do I love her without devouring her?”

Quiet Rebellion

wears your scarf to the Grammy’s

tucked under his suit

lets it slip during his red-carpet twirl

quotes your favorite poet in his acceptance speech

LITTLE THINGS ONLY YOU SEE

Nightmares

wakes up gasping

clutching your wrist

“I dreamt they… they took you.” 

lets you hum “Moonchild” 

until his heartbeat steadies

Playlist

makes you a mixtape titled “For When the World Feels Heavy” 

filled with Mitski and Epik High

hides a voicemail at the end: 

“I’d burn it all down for you. Just say the word.”

Ritual

every anniversary, he plants a tree in your name

“Roots are the original secrets, they grow deeper when no one’s watching.”

JIN

-“My only partner is this mic! And Jungkook’s credit card.” -

HOW IT LEAKED

a stray sticker on his water bottle during a Weverse Live

a tiny cartoon heart you doodled as a joke

fans zoom in

reverse-image search it

trace it to your Instagram story from months ago

within hours, screenshots of your matching couple bracelets (yours engraved with “Worldwide Your Handsome”) flood forums

Dispatch digs deeper

= a blurred photo of Jin leaving your apartment at dawn, a bouquet of peonies in hand (your favorite, bought after a petty fight)

headline reads: “BTS’s Jin: Secret Romance with Non-Celebrity Partner Exposed!”

HIS PUBLIC REACTION

Deflection with Humor

at a fan meeting, a fan shouts:

“Oppa, are you dating?!” 

Jin smirks

flexing

“Why? Are you proposing? Don’t make Worldwide Handsome choose!” 

crowd laughs

his grip tightens on the mic

VLive/Weverse Damage Control

hosts a mukbang

casually showing his bare wrists

“Bracelets? Too flashy! I’m a simple man... just give me kimchi and WiFi.” 

fans notice his pinky ring

= yours, borrowed and never returned

he waves it off

“Family heirloom. My grandma’s ghost will haunt you if you ask again!”

Company Statement

BigHit issues a vague denial

Jin insists on adding more

“Please respect my personal life. I’m still the same guy who forgets to water his plants!”

HIS PRIVATE REACTION

Night of the Leak

cancels your dinner date

citing “group stuff"

you find him at 1 a.m. in the kitchen

stress-baking songpyeon with twice the usual sugar. 

"It’s okay...” (you)

slams the rolling pin down

“It’s not.” 

his voice cracks

“They’re calling you a gold-digger. A distraction. I should’ve… I should’ve been smarter.”

Breaking Point

avoids you for three days

throwing himself into rehearsals

on the fourth night, he shows up at your door

hair messy

holding a Budae-jjigae pot

“I couldn’t sleep...”

mumbles

“Kept thinking… what if they hurt you? What if I’m not enough to protect you?” 

you hug him

he clings like you’re the last life raft on the Titanic

AFTERMATH

Professional Life

Fan Interactions

starts ending lives with:

“Love yourself! And… maybe don’t stalk your bias’s water bottles?” 

ARMYs laugh

tho the subtext stings

Variety Shows

hosts tease him about dating?

he leans into the joke

“My only partner is this mic! And Jungkook’s credit card.” 

later texts you: 

“Miss you. Will make it up to you with jajangmyeon.”

Personal Life

New Rules

no more public dates

rents a private karaoke room weekly

dedicating “Epiphany” to you off-key

“You’re my real audience" 

he grins, cheeks flushed with soju and sincerity

Guilty Pleasures

sneaks your photo into his selcas

hidden in phone case reflections

“Inside joke, with myself. Because I’m hilarious.”

Quiet Rebellion

Gaming Nights

livestreams under a fake account (“EatJin_SecretSnack”)

teaming up with you

“Noob_Queen? Just… a fan. A very talented fan.”

Food Wars

brings you to his favourite’ restaurants, introducing you as “my taste-tester”

chef friends side-eye him

"Seokjin-ah, why is she wearing your jacket?” 

he chokes on kimchi

LITTLE THINGS ONLY YOU SEE

Notes

slips handwritten jokes into your bag

“Why did the scarecrow win an award? Because he was out-standing in his field… just like you.” 

signed: “Your (secret) Worldwide Handsome.”

Protectiveness

buys you a panic button disguised as a keychain

“For my peace of mind. And don’t lose it... it’s Gucci!” 

Vulnerability

falls asleep on your lap after concerts

murmuring

“Jin tired. Just… let me stay here, okay?”

YOONGI

-“My music speaks for itself. If you’re looking for gossip, you’re in the wrong room.”-

HOW IT LEAKED

a producer’s slipup

Yoongi had been collaborating on a track for an indie artist

during a late-night studio session, he’d left his phone unlocked

voice memo plays accidentally over the speakers

= your voice, soft and sleep-heavy, murmuring

“Yoongi-ya, come to bed. You’ve been at it for hours.” 

other producer, thinks it’s part of the song

includes the clip as an “authentic, intimate vibe.”

track drops

fans dissect it instantly

within hours, the audio snippet is isolated

looped, and compared to your voice from an old YouTube video where you reviewed his mixtape

hashtags like #WhoIsSUGAsMuse and #AgustDGF trend

Dispatch digs up a grainy photo of you two from a year ago

= Yoongi’s hand brushing yours under a café table

his face unreadable

his thumb tracing your knuckles

HIS PUBLIC REACTION

Cold Silence

ignores all questions

at a press conference, when asked about the “mystery woman,” he stares the reporter down

“My music speaks for itself. If you’re looking for gossip, you’re in the wrong room.”

Defiance

releases a remix of the track a week later

your voice amplified and distorted into a haunting echo

title? “No Comment.”

ARMY’s Clues

notices he starts wearing a black ring on his right hand

a subtle symbol

fans debate if it’s a coincidence or a middle finger to speculation

HIS PRIVATE REACTION

he’s in his studio

jaw clenched

deleting hundreds of hate comments aimed at you

when you walk in, he doesn’t look up

“You should leave."

mutters, voice gravelly

“I’ll call you a cab. Don’t… don’t come here for a while.”

you freeze

“Yoongi, we knew this could...”

he snaps

slamming his fist on the desk

“I told you I’d ruin it. I’m not... I’m not built for this.” 

his anger cracks

revealing the fear beneath

“They’ll eat you alive. And I’ll just… sit here. Useless.”

Breaking Point

disappears for two days

you find him in Daegu

in the tiny studio he built in his parents’ garage

walls are covered in scribbled lyrics

half of them about you

he’s asleep at his desk

head pillowed on a notebook open to a page titled “Ways to Disappear.”

when he wakes, he doesn’t apologize

just hands you a cup of instant coffee 

“I’m not good at this. But I’m not letting go.”

AFTERMATH

Professional Life

Music

writes a diss track aimed at the producer who leaked the clip

“You want a story? Here’s one about betrayal and bitch-made moves.” 

buried in the second verse is a line only you understand fully

“Her voice is my compass... you just noise.”

Interviews

when probed about “romance” he deadpans

“I’m married to my work. But my work has trust issues.”

Personal Life

New Rules

no more midnight walks

installs blackout curtains and soundproofing in ALL rooms

“Our world starts here” 

nodding to the tiny couch where you now sleep most nights

Guilt

starts donating anonymously to anti-paparazzi charities

when you ask why, he grumbles

“Tax write-offs.”

Quiet Rebellion

learns ASL to communicate with you during events

“Love you” 

signs it under the table at the MAMAs

eyes locked on the stage like he’s bored

writes your name in tiny Hangul letters inside his Grammy trophy

“So they’ll never know who I’m thanking.”

LITTLE THINGS ONLY YOU SEE

Nightmares

wakes up in a cold sweat

clutching the collar of your shirt

“Dreamt they… found you. Took you.” 

lets you play his own “First Love” on the piano until he stops shaking

Playlist

makes you a mixtape titled “For the Bad Days” 

filled with angry rap and a single hidden track

= a lullaby he hummed into his phone at 4 a.m.

Ritual

every month, he buys a new plant for your apartment

“They’re quieter than people."

names them after lyrics he’ll never release

J-HOPE

-“Love… is the reason I dance.”-

HOW IT LEAKED

a moment of unguarded tenderness

happens during a live dance practice stream

Hobi pauses to adjust the camera angle

“Gotta make sure they don’t see...” 

before cutting himself off

but the mic picks up your voice offscreen

teasing

“Hobi-ya, your shirt’s inside out… again.”

clip goes viral

dissected for its intimacy

= the way his shoulders relax at your voice, the fond exasperation in your tone

fans stitch it with old content

= you wearing his hoodie in a 2018 Vlog, him slipping you a candy during a concert rehearsal.

by midnight, #Hope’sSecret trends globally

HIS PUBLIC REACTION

Mask

at the next fansign, he cranks his sunshine dial to 200%

laughs off questions

“You know I’m married to dance, right?” 

his smile strains at the edges

posts a mirror selfie captioned “Alone but not lonely 💜”

a lie so glaring it aches

Damage Control

volunteers for extra schedules

flooding social media with dance covers

ARMYs praise his “relentless positivity”

you see the desperation beneath it

- he’s trying to outrun the storm-

Interview That Breaks Him

reporter asks him:

“Is love a distraction from your art?” 

Hobi’s smile falters

“Love… is the reason I dance.”

clip trends again with edits of him glancing offstage (as if searching for someone)

HIS PRIVATE REACTION

cancels your anniversary dinner

you find him in the practice room

shirt drenched

dancing to “Blue Side” on repeat

when you call his name, he whirls around

eyes wild

“Why did I... Why did I let myself need you?” 

his voice cracks

“I’m supposed to be… strong.”

Breaking Point

avoids you for days

then shows up at your door at 3 a.m.

trembling

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I keep... I keep ruining things.”

collapses into your arms

repeating “I’m sorry” like a mantra

= as if guilt could be scrubbed clean by confession

Fear

confesses in whispers

“When I was a trainee, they told me joy was my only currency. What if… what if they decide I’m bankrupt?”

AFTERMATH

Professional Life:

The Choreography: Creates a solo piece titled “Eclipse.” It’s all sharp angles and abrupt silences, his body folding inward like a flower denied light. Fans call it his “most raw work yet.” Only you know it’s about the nights he cried in your lap.

The Lie: Refers to you as his “cousin” in interviews. Laughs too loud, adds, “We’re super close!” The first time he says it, he vomits afterward.

Personal Life:

New Rules: No more public dates. Instead, he rents a secluded dance studio under a fake name. Teaches you choreography at 2 a.m., his hands lingering on your waist like a secret.

Guilt: Buys you endless gifts—designer bags, rare vinyls, a necklace with a hidden sun pendant. “You deserve everything,” he says, as if materialism could offset the loneliness.

The Quiet Rebellion:

Wears mismatched socks to rehearsals—your inside joke. When teased, he grins. “Fashion is chaos, right?”

Slips your initials into his next album credits under “Special Thanks to My Sunrise.” ARMYs assume it’s a metaphor.

LITTLE THINGS ONLY YOU SEE

The Ritual: Every morning, he texts you a sunrise photo. No words—just light. On bad days, he sends two.

The Playlist: Creates a secret SoundCloud titled “For Her.” Filled with jazz covers of BTS songs, slowed down and soulful. The bio reads: “Love is a dance no one else hears.”

The Tattoo: Gets a tiny sun behind his ear. “So even when I’m performing… you’re with me.”

JIMIN

-“If I had someone… I’d want to protect them. Even from me.”-

HOW IT LEAKED

a humid night in Seoul

Jimin’s live stream starts innocently enough

cozy, post-concert wind-down where he’s draped in a oversized sweater

hair damp from the shower

answering fan questions with sleepy charm

exhaustion makes him reckless

when a comment asks: “What’s your ideal date? 💜” 

he smiles absently

gaze drifting offscreen to where you’re curled on the couch

“Hmm… Rainy mornings. Someone who steals my hoodies. And… dancing in the kitchen at 2 a.m.” 

his voice softens

a secret slipping through

“Especially if they’re terrible at it.”

you laugh, unaware the mic catches it

a bright, familiar sound that ARMYs recognize from a cameo months ago

clip goes viral within hours

“WHO IS SHE?” 

next morning, a blurry paparazzi photo of Jimin’s hand brushing yours under a café table floods forums

your linked pinkies labeled: “Proof.”

HIS PUBLIC REACTION

Mask

next fan sign, he’s all dimples and sparkles

laughing off questions

“Dancing in the kitchen? I was just… describing a drama plot!”

tho his smile doesn’t crinkle his eyes

he signs an album with “Love is patient” 

Social Media

posts a mirror selfie half shirtless

captioned: “Focus on the gains, not the rumors 💪🔥.” 

comments explode with “He’s deflecting!!” and “Protect him!!”

Stage Persona

at concert, he performs “Filter” with razor-sharp precision

hips snapping like he’s punishing the world for looking too close

during the ment, he whispers:

“Love… is a mirror. Sometimes it’s kinder to look away.”

HIS PRIVATE REACTION

cancels your date

citing “schedule conflicts”

then shows up at your door at 3 a.m.

eyes red-rimmed and hair tangled

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry...” 

he chokes

collapsing into your arms

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to… ”

fists his hands in your shirt

voice breaking

“They’ll hate you. They’ll say I’m yours and... and that’s dangerous.”

Guilt

avoids touchfor days

flinching when you reach for him

practices until his feet bleed

screaming at mirrors

“Control it. Control.”

when you bandage his blisters, he sobs

“Why won’t you leave? I’m ruining you.”

Turning Point

you find him in the studio

slumped over the piano

playing a mangled version of “Promise” 

he freezes when you enter

“I rewrote this for you” 

he whispers

“But now it’s… a cage.” 

you sit beside him

pressing a melody into the keys

= your song

the one he hummed while making breakfast

he crumbles

“I’m scared...” 

admits it, forehead against yours

“But I’m more scared of losing us.”

AFTERMATH

Professional Life

Comeback

releases a new solo track - “Veil” 

with lyrics about “hands that fit too perfectly to hide” 

dances with a blindfold during the choreo

fingers brushing empty air where you’d stand

Interviews

when asked about dating, he tilts his head, coy

“If I had someone… I’d want to protect them. Even from me.”

Personal Life

New Rules

no more public cafes

instead, he rents out entire movie theaters under fake names (“Mr. Park and… Mrs. Pancakes?”)

learns to cook your favorite dishes so you never have to risk takeout

Quiet Defiance

starts wearing your ring on a chain under his stage outfits

lets it slip during a jacket adjustment

smirk daring the cameras to notice

Healing

therapy

journals: “Love isn’t a sin. Fear is.”

takes you to Busan

introduces you to his parents as “my peace” 

his mom cries

his dad hugs you, asing how you like your coffee 

“You better deserve him” 

but slips you extra cake

LITTLE THINGS ONLY YOU SEE

Nightmares

wakes up gasping

clutching your wrist

“I dreamt they… they took you.” 

lets you hum “Serendipity” until his heartbeat steadies

Playlist

makes you a mixtape titled “For When the World Feels Heavy” 

filled with H.E.R. and old Bolero covers

hides a voicemail at the end

“I’d burn it all down for you. Just say the word.”

Ritual

every month, he lights a candle and deletes one hate comment aloud

“Your words don’t own us.”

TAEHYUNG

-“I wanted the world to see you like I do… but not like this.”-

HOW IT LEAKED

a photograph on his private blog

one he never meant to share

Taehyung had been curating a series titled “Light in the Cracks”

= glimpses of his world through fractured mirrors and sunlit dust

one image stands out

= a shadowy silhouette of you dancing in an empty studio

backlit by golden hour

your figure blurred but unmistakable to anyone who knows you

caption reads: “My favorite kind of magic: the unseen.”

fans zoom in

your necklace is a tiny moonstone pendant he gifted you on your first anniversary

matches the one in his latest live

ARMYs stitch timelines

tracing your shared glances at concerts

the way he’d hum “Sweet Night” when you entered a room

by midnight, your Instagram is flooded with comments

“Is this V’s muse?”

HIS PUBLIC REACTION

Artist’s Gambit

doesn’t delete the photo

he posts a follow-up

= a close-up of wilting roses

captioned:  “Beauty is fragile. Handle with care.” 

fans dissect it as a plea for privacy

Press Play

at a movie premiere, reporters ambush him

“Is love your new inspiration?” 

he smirks

adjusting his beret

“Love is always my inspiration. Next question.”

Social Media Silence

archives all personal posts except the roses

changes his bio to “Guardian of galaxies.”

HIS PRIVATE REACTION

he is in his darkroom

red light casting shadows as he develops film

when you find him, his hands are stained with chemicals

trembling

“I’m sorry...” 

whispers, voice raw

“I wanted the world to see you like I do… but not like this.”

shows you a contact sheet of stolen moments

= your laugh caught mid-frame, your hand curled around his wrist, a tear he kissed away

“These were just for us, now they’re… theirs.”

Breaking Point

3 a.m.

he drives you to Daegu

speeding through backroads until you reach his gradparents old farm

sits you under a persimmon tree where he wrote his first song

“Hyung once told me love is a secret you plant."

murmurs

dirt under his nails as he digs a hole

buries a film canister of your photos

“Let’s grow it here. Where no one can dig it up.”

AFTERMATH

Professional Life

Artistic Rebellion

next photography exhibit features distorted self-portraits

= mirrors shattered and rearranged

he centerpiece?

= a single rose encased in glass

titled “Unreachable.” 

critics call it “melancholic genius.”

ARMYs know better

Music Clues

releases a jazz cover of “Someone Like You” 

with modified lyrics

“Don’t forget me, I beg… but forget the world.”

Personal Life

New Rituals

learns calligraphy to write you letters in Daegu satoori

sealed with wax stamps

signs them in red ink

Guilt & Protection

hires a bodyguard for you

then fires them when you protest

“Fine. Then I’ll protect you myself.” 

starts taking Krav Maga

“For art."

Defiant Love

wears a silver ring on his thumb

your initials etched inside

lets it “accidentally” face the camera during a fansign

quotes Pablo Neruda in a Weverse reply

“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.”

LITTLE THINGS ONLY YOU SEE

Midnight Piano

plays “Winter Bear” on loop when he’s anxious

fingers stumbling until you sit beside him

 “You’re my melody...”

mumbles

resting his head on your shoulder

Sketchbook

fills pages with your eyes

...“the left one’s brighter when you lie”

hides it under his bed

lets you find it with a sticky note

“For your eyes only.”

Code

develops a tap system for crowded events

three squeezes = “I love you” 

two = “Let’s run” 

uses both excessively

JUNGKOOK

-“You said… you wanted normal. And I… I couldn’t even give you that.”-

HOW IT LEAKED

happens during a live

Jungkook, half-shirtless and sweaty post-workout

rambles about his gym routine

you call out from the kitchen

“Kookie, did you eat the last mandu?!” 

he freezes mid-flex

eyes widening like a deer in headlights

live cuts off abruptly

but not before 2 million ARMYs hear his panicked: “Uh… no?” and your laughter

fans dissect the clip frame by frame

someone enhances the background noise

isolating your voice from a BTS fanmeet Q&A three years prior

by midnight, your Instagram is flooded with side-by-side comparisons of your hands

visible in an old VLOG and the “mystery girl” in his live

HIS PUBLIC REACTION

Silence

Jungkook ghosts social media for 72 hours

unprecedented for the man who once posted 10 gym selfies just a few days before

Deflection

returns with a thirst trap video captioned “Focus on your gains, not my snacks.” 

comments are disabled

Protective Fury

when a paparazzi shoves a mic in your face, he snarls

“Touch her again and I’ll end you” 

voice so low it trends as “Demon Jungkook.”

HIS PRIVATE REACTION

Immediate Aftermath

he’s a mess

you find him in the gym at 3 a.m.

punching a bag until his knuckles split

“I ruined it.”

chokes, sweat and tears mixing on his face

“You said… you wanted normal. And I… I couldn’t even give you that.”

Breaking Point

that night, he crawls into your bed

shaking

“I’ll quit."

whispers

“Fuck the fame. Let’s move to Jeju. I’ll fish. You’ll… sell seaweed. We’ll be nobodies.” 

you laugh

he’s dead serious.

Guilt & Growt

buys burner phones

creates coded playlists (“Strawberry Milk” = I miss you; "Banana Milk" = I love you)

forces himself to watch the leaked clip 100 times

“To remember how stupid I was.”

AFTERMATH

Professional Life

Music

releases a solo track

“Seven (Silent Nights)” 

lyrics about “loving in the dark, counting heartbeats instead of stars.” 

ARMYs sob

you know it’s about the nights he held you

terrified of dawn

Interviews

when asked about “dating rumors” he just smirks

“I date my dumbbells. They’re very loyal.”

his knee presses against yours under the table later

Personal Life

New Rules

learns to cook mandu from scratch and YouTube tutorials

leaves them on your pillow with Post-its

“Proof I’m learning.”

Symbolic Gestures

gets a tattoo of your initials under his ribcage

“So even if they take everything, you’re here.”

LITTLE THINGS ONLY YOU SEE

Nightmares

wakes up clawing at his chest

convinced your initials vanished

makes you trace them with your finger

until his breathing steadies

Chaos

drags you to Namsan Tower at 4 a.m.

both of you in disguises

“We’re tourists! From… Canada!”

Softness

whispers “I’m sorry” into your skin every time he kisses you

= a mantra, a prayer, a promise