#it will never be what you had the person you lost but it's something different and it's still something good and it makes you happy

[lowkeyerror]

Always There

Agatha Harkness x Vampire!Reader x Rio Vidal

Word count: 4.9k

Notes: Non-major character death, depictions of violence, graphic violent content (blood, mob violence/torture, detailed wounds), angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, small mention of suicial tendencies, italics=past

Summary: Vampire reader has had a casual relationship with Agatha and Rio, but eventually too many years pass since their last encounter, the vampire starts to wonder if they still cared for her.

An: Posting this immediately after I finished writing it. Hope you enjoy. Likes, replies, reblogs, and all of that are appreciated 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ Edit: Not me saying itallics and forgetting to actually put them lol

Masterlist

You’ve had a casual fling with Agatha and Rio for as long as you can recall. There’s a stereotype about witches coming and going as they please, and you find it to be frustratingly true.

It's easier to get ahold of Rio than Agatha, which is ironic considering that Rio is literally Death. With the title comes the job, so all you truly needed to get a glimpse of her was a body. Perhaps you could arrange the carcasses in a way that said ‘stay with me forever’.

As a vampire, you had time to wait. There was no rush, which is how you believe things got so casual. You could never forget how you met the pair.

At the time angry mobs were running rampant, looking for anyone to persecute. You were a known vampire living not to far from a village. They hunted you for sport. There were many of them that you killed, but eventually they were able to ambush you. When they did, they used wooden spikes to pin you to a large ‘X’ that they built. The scars from were they impaled your flesh still present today.

They tortured you; punching, spitting, stabbing, you had eventually lost track of time after a few hours. The need for blood weakening you enough to where breaking free was nearly impossible.

They’d come in shifts for the torture and leave only one person to watch you in the night. That was their only flaw. You didn’t expect anyone outside of the village to come across you, but someone did.

Your head was hung low, when you heard the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground. You raised it slightly, to see the guard that was supposed to be watching you, dead on the floor.

“You don’t look too well.”

It had been days since you had tried to speak, so your voice was hoarse, “I wouldn’t think so.”

“What are you? Only someone different, is worth all of this trouble,” a different voice spoke.

Your eyes look to where the voices are coming from, but you only see shadows. Your tongue is dry as it passes over your bloody chapped lips.

“Vampire,” you mumbled.

“Help me get her down.”

When they approached, you finally got a good look at them. You couldn’t help but stare at their features. Both youthful with rosy cheeks. Rio’s large brown eyes caught your attention immediately, warm yet hiding something. Agatha’s features were sharper, her cheekbones, her jawline, even her eyes.

“This will hurt,” Rio examined the wood embedded into your skin.

“I know,” you spoke weakly.

You expected them to pull the spikes out with their hands. Instead your eyebrows furrowed when purple and green tendrils of magic worked around the spikes. Instead of 4, painfully slow, agonizing moments, there was only one rough pull, before your body fell off of the ‘X’. Only your knees hit ground as Agatha and Rio held up the rest of your body.

Your full weight pushed against them as your head rested in between their shoulders, “Thank you.”

“Hungry?”

Your eyes glowed a dim red, “I could drain a village.”

“Bloodthirsty, even in this state?” Agatha teased.

“Especially in this state,” you corrected.

You could hardly move, but you attempted to stand on your unstable legs. You grunted in pain as you put one foot in front of the other. Your focus was on the dead guard. His heart was no longer beating, but blood still filled his veins. It was calling to you, it had been too long since you had fed.

Your fangs snack into the man’s neck viciously. You had no remorse for the corpse as his body began to lose color as you drank. He wasn’t a large man, which was unfortunate, but he sufficed for the moment.

Harsh breaths and clearing of your throat, were indicators of how much you needed that. You wiped the blood off of your mouth with the back of your hand.

Your wounds were slowly closing, but it was taking all of the energy you had just gained.

“I can heal you faster,” Rio said tentatively grabbing your forearm.

She extended it so that it’s flat, before quickly running her tongue over the spot. You looked at her as if she was crazy, but then back at your wrist. The hole from the stake was gone, in its place was only a scar.

If you had a pulse, you were sure that it would be beating wildly.

You glanced at Agatha, who watched on, “Do you do that too?”

She shook her head, “Earth witch specialty.”

“How long did they have you like that?” Rio’s eyes have examined your body, noticing the extensive damage. Her finger trailed one of the nastier slashes across your stomach.

“I don't recall,” you spoke honestly.

Rio was careful as she healed the larger wounds on your body, you told her not to worry about the less significant ones. Even when she was done you were still caked in dirt and mostly your own blood.

“Let me help you out doll,” Agatha waved her fingers swiftly, and soon you were clean as a whistle.

Your tattered clothes replaced as if they were new, dirt and blood alike removed from your body. Ugly scars, now covered except for the few that littered your face.

“Why help me? We are only strangers, I don’t even know your names.”

“Abominations to humanity must stick together lest we want them to wipe every one of us out . You can call me Rio.”

“Agatha Harkness, pleasure to save you beautiful.”

One of your eyebrows raised, “Witch killer, Agatha Harkness?”

The woman chuckled, “I see my reputation supersedes my community. Does my aura scare you…”

“Y/n, and it does not. There are no rules when it comes to preservation of self. I’ve killed my own kind for good reasons and some not so good reasons. Bodies just seem to pile up when I’m around.”

“That why they nail you up like that?” Rio questioned.

You shrugged, “I suppose, a mixture of that and fear.”

“People fear death,” she spoke.

You shook your head as you corrected her, “Mortals fear death. I know people who are thousands of years old, who run from ailments of morality. They are foolish, death cannot be outran. Though it may take longer for her to come, she will eventually get all of us.”

“You aren’t afraid to die?” Agatha questioned you.

“No, there’s no point. She’ll come for me when it’s my time, but until then what is there to fear besides a wasted life.”

Rio had a small smile on her face, “Quite the philosophy you’ve fostered. Just one question, if you feel that way, then why kill anyone in the first place?”

It was your turn to chuckle, “If someone was meant to live, they simply would. I’m not stealing life, simply gifting death to those who have decided that it is their time.”

“How do you know that they’ve decided?” Agatha counters.

“Well you see, many people are weary of vampires and they should be. They let their guard down, they get comfortable, they play with their food instead of finishing the job. Those actions have consequences and I like to deal with those consequences personally. So I suppose when they choose to wrong me, they’ve chosen to die.”

“And the villagers who did this to you?” Rio pondered aloud.

You eyed her cautiously, “Do you stand to stop me?”

Rio shook her head, “I keep a witch killer in my company, you think I’m above a rightfully earned massacre?”

“Well you spoke of solidarity amongst-”

“Think of it this way, we can do what we want amongst each other, as it is our business. The humans have no right, to do what we do.”

You nod, “I agree.”

“So, you’re going to destroy the village?” Agatha questioned.

“My goal is to drain every last one.”

After that first encounter you were drunk on the thought alone of Agatha and Rio. Finding out Rio's true identity only made you lust for her even more. You knew that both had bonded with each other in ways you hadn’t understood, but that didn't stop your feelings from developing.

It didn't take long for them to fold you into their relationship, at least partially. They weren’t always around, but when they were everything seemed to fall back into place.

However, you’d be lying if you said you hadn't been getting restless these last few years. It was feeling like you saw less of them, especially Agatha. It felt like a game of cat and mouse. Somehow you had ended up chasing after them.

Tonight you walk the streets bored, part of you looking for trouble. Rumblings of new age vampire hunters in the area had piqued your interest. So you’d have a chance to have some fun or at minimum find your next meal.

Your fingers play with the rings they had gifted you, centuries ago. In the past you could feel both of them signaling you through the jewelry. It was a faint buzz, something like a hum, through the ring. A feeling that you hadn’t felt in ages. You longed to feel it again, to feel them.

Alleyways didn’t scare you, hardly anything scared you these days. Yet as you take a step into this alley, you sense something immediately. You feel eyes on you, as you walk.

“Has anyone ever told you to be mindful of where you settle demon?”

You continue walking, the empty threat meant nothing to you.

“I know what you are, I can smell it on you,” the voice echoes against the walls.

Your ears twitch, and soon you’re holding a frail man against one of the concrete walls in the alley.

“If you know what I am, you should be more mindful of how you approach me,” your strength speaks for itself.

You don’t give him the pleasure of seeing your fangs or glowing red eyes.

“Ah, you’re one of the older ones. This will be quite fun,” he says gleefully.

“What are you-" the question dies on your lips as you feel a needle being jabbed into your neck.

Your hand instinctively shoots over the spot, and your growl in frustration. You drop the man against the wall, turning your attention to the person who stuck you from behind with the needle.

This man was much bigger than the other. He was about twice your size, but it did not matter. You bare your fangs, hissing at the muscular man.

“Why isn’t she dropping?” He yells, fear laced through his voice.

You take the moment to pounce on him. Your teeth wasting no time, sinking into his neck. The man convulses under you, but you’re stronger than him. Even when he grabs your neck you don’t relent.

“Impossible,” the frail man, whispers from his spot against the wall.

“Nice try, but-”

The sensation hits you like a truck. You feel your vision get blurry and your muscles weaken. You blink a few times trying to will yourself against the late acting sedative.

The frail man nods excessively as you begin to lose consciousness, “Slower than usual, but captured nonetheless.”

You’re jolted back into consciousness when you feel the stake being driven into your skin. You attempt to shoot out of whatever position you are in, but it only causes you a familiar pain. Unlike the first time you were nailed to something, this time it was straight up rather than ‘X’ formation. Your arms hung up straight above your head and your feet were slightly spread underneath.

One spike was used to pierce both of your hands in place while you had one for each foot. Your breathing only quickens even more upon noticing you are in a forest. This couldn’t be happening.

“Glad you could finally join us,” the frail man from earlier want alone this time. He had a group of people with him.

“Let me go, and I’ll consider sparing you one I'm free,” you say, yet no one moves.

“You hold no power here, demon,” the man walks around you. “I am doctor Helsing, you may be familiar with my ancestors.”

Your jaw twitches, “ Van Helsing.”

He chuckles, “What a smart creature you are?”

“What do you want from me?”

His chuckle turns into a boisterous laughter, “ You can't offer me anything that I don't have the ability to take.”

You glare at the people in front of you, eyes turning a vicious shade of red, “The last group of people that tried something like this, paid for their sins with their lives. I hope you’re prepared to do the same.”

“They did quite a number on you, I can tell by your markings. Their only mistake was letting such a beautiful thing like you go,” Helsing says, his hand sliding across the scar on your abdomen.

“They didn’t let me go. I got out.”

His eyes had a glint as he leaned in, “And then you killed them all, how sad.”

He stabs you in the scar. Carving harder and deeper than the previous person. You grunt, but try to steel yourself under the knife. Yet you squirm finding the sensation to be more unpleasant than you had recalled.

“Silver cuts a little different doesn’t it?” He says watching the cut pour blood.

“You’re going to regret this.”

He turns his attention to the people, “Empty threats mean nothing when a beast is tied up. Would anyone else like a turn?”

People in his crowd begin to circle around you. Some with weapons, others cracking their knuckles. You're being attacked from all sides. The pain makes you tear up, but you avoid crying.

Instead you left out a bitter laugh, “That’s all you’ve got. Come on if you're gong to torture me at least put some passion behind it.”

“Oh, we’re just getting started. I want to hear you beg for your life, I want to see you broken, beaten, defeated. I want you to ask for death and then I'll award it to you.”

You spit at Helsing, “I’m not scared of death.”

He wipes your spit off of his face, a scowl now present, “For centuries my family has been driving your species to extinction. The failures may eclipse the successes, but don't think that we were never successful. You will fall at the hands of Van Helsing, creature.”

He has a device in his hand, he shoves it into your mouth. It forces your mouth open and your fangs out. He stares at them in awe. You try to clamp your mouth shut or retract your fangs, but you are unable to. You start to panic.

“Just like a snake, de-fang the vampire and a lot of that fear is gone,” his smile is sadistic.

You feel your adrenaline sky rocket as you shake violently. Your eyes wide in terror. The wood stake ripping your skin, but the pain was nothing akin to the fright.

You don’t remember the last time you were truly this scared.

He laughs and some of the crowd laugh along with him, “Are you afraid now, demon?”

Tears fall from your eyes and he coos. You flinch at his hand touching your face. His fingers were rough and callused against the swollen skin. You move your head as if to attack him and he stumbles back.

He grabs your jaw roughly, “This is the power of man.”

“Looks like someone is having a party and forgot to invite us.”

You know that voice. It makes you close your eyes in relief. The panic you felt in the moment begins to dissipate.

Everyone looks to the sky following the sound of the voice. It’s there that they see Agatha and Rio floating in the sky. Most of the crowd has their mouths agape, not believing what they are seeing.

“Should we offer them mercy, Agatha? Maybe our invites got lost in the mail?”

“This matter does not concern you foul wenches, be gone,” Helsing says, his voice trembles a bit at the end.

It’s Agatha that cackles looking down at the man, “See that’s where your wrong because…”

Rio appears behind the man, her skeletal form on her face, “If it concerns her, then it concerns us.”

Her dagger lays on his neck and he looses his composure.

“Anyone want to be brave?” Agatha questions the crowd, who screams when she shoots her magic at a nearby tree exploding it.

“What happened? A second ago you were lining up to torture her, but now you’re scared,” Rio adds pressure to her dagger.

“Don’t get shy now, doctor. Nothing to say?” Agatha gets closer to him.

The group tries to scatter but she traps them in a circle full of fire. They’re forced to gather close to each other. Their screams make you smile.

Agatha pulls the device out of your mouth carefully. Her hand caresses your face gently. You lean into her touch.

“We have to stop meeting like this doll,” Agatha mumbles only for you to hear.

“We wouldn’t have to meet again if you stopped leaving,” you shoot back.

Agatha casts her gaze away from you and over to Helsing. She and Rio switch places. The Green Witch, uses her vines to pull the spikes out of your body. It’s a feeling that never gets easier to experience.

You land on your feet ignoring the burning sensation. With your back tall you walk over to Helsing. You crouch in front of him, despite your own agony.

You hold his eyes, “Funny, I recall you telling me I’d beg for death. Well now she’s here for me, just not in the way you expected is it?”

Rio wiggles her fingers at the doctor, “I loved dragging the souls of your family to eternal damnation, can’t wait to reunite you with them.”

“Humans are all the same, always playing with food that’s not yours,” you stand towering over the man.

“Hey I like to play with my food,” Agatha pouts.

You smile, “When you have power you can do what you want.”

You open your hand and Rio drops her dagger into your grasp. The crowd watches in panic behind the flames as you approach the man.

“However, I’ve never been one to play with my food,” in a swift motion you slit his throat.

The gasps and screams of his followers sounds like music to your ears. He gargles his own blood reaching for his neck.

“Your blood isn’t worth drinking,” you watch as he collapses. You turn to address the crowd, “None of you have worthy blood. Cowards, followers, miscreants, I hope it was worth it. The price is your life, now burn.”

Agatha waves her hand dismissively and the crowd of people are quickly evaporated. Ash and burnt grass the only remnants of the aggressors.

Upon their destruction you crumble to the floor. Your body screaming at you for the abuse you endured.

Rio starts with the wound on your stomach before healing the spiked points. Your body still aches when she’s finished, but it’s substantially less than before.

“Déjà vu isn’t it bunny?” Agatha opens the floor for conversation.

“Now isn’t the time Agatha,” Rio scolds the woman, who raises her hands in defense.

“I was just reminiscing, is that a crime?”

You stand, “Well, good seeing you. Same time… in the next few centuries or…”

“You’re hurt,” Rio argues.

“You healed me enough,” you shrug.

Agatha rolls her eyes, “What’s with the attitude princess?”

You place a hand on your hip, “When was the last time we saw each other, Agatha? Rio, you only come when I leave bodies in my wake. So sorry if I’m not thrilled it takes me being captured and tortured to get some time together.”

“It’s always been this way,” Agatha argues back.

Your voice takes on an uncharacteristically soft tone, “I know and I’m tired. I don’t want whatever this is. I need something more, something tangible. It’s fine if you don't want to give that to me, but I can't keep waiting.”

You try to keep calm as you pull the rings off of your fingers, hand out stretched to give them back to their original owners.

“Y/n…”

“Take them… please. Free me, from whatever this is. I’m grateful that you saved me on our first day and maybe the same thing happening again is fate telling me that this is our last day,” you get the courage to look at them with teary eyes.

“You don't even believe in fate,” Agatha tries to reason with you.

“How would you know, you haven't been around. Things change, people change,” you tell her.

Agatha looks to Rio for help, but The Green Witch, just keeps her eyes on you.

“That’s bullshit! If change is so real, how’d we end up right back where we started hmm? Poor little hung up bat, in need of saving and here we are like always,” Agatha’s theatrics peak through her words.

“Like always?” You repeat, in disbelief.

“Look sweetheart, I know that-"

You ball your fists at your side, “What could you possibly know Agatha? Tell me, I’m interested in hearing. Did you know I spend all my time waiting for either of you to tell me if you want me or not? I don’t sleep, I just think and think and think about finding a way to end it all without having to see either of you. Hard to kill yourself with Death keeping tabs on you, even without a heartbeat. I knew this guy was tracking me, I knew what he wanted to do, and I said fuck it. I don’t care, what’s there to live for anyway?”

“You can't be serious?” Rio doesn’t want to believe what you’re saying.

“Of course I’m serious, part of me thought that after all these years humans would be over torture, but that was foolish of me. Why would I think that you'd come to save me? I still don’t understand why you did.”

“Because we love you, you fucking idiot!” Agatha shouts at you.

You scoff, “Do you really? I couldn’t tell by the hundreds of years apart.”

“We were protecting you,” Agatha gets in your space.

“What could have possibly been protecting me? Oh no, a loving and caring environment? How ever could I have managed such domestic delights and pleasures,” your voice drips sarcasm.

“You do realize that Rio is Death, right? Her job is literally to reap souls, you aren’t the only one that doesn’t get to see her often. And me… I’m all trouble, doll. There’s not a pleasant bone in my body.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, “Did you forget who I am? Have you had a head trauma recently, or maybe you need a refresher? I’m not the greatest either, cupcake. I just slit a man’s throat and had his followers executed.”

“By me,” Agatha points out.

“Ok and you want credit for the villages I killed too? The vampires I murdered? The people I lied to? The whores I fucked? I’m not some sweet innocent thing you picked up off of the side of the road. My ledger has had blood on it since before you killed your original coven.”

Your eyes are red as they stare into her blue ones.

“We were scared,” Rio interrupts the rising tensions between you and Agatha.

“Scared of what?” You glance at her.

“Of committing to you. Hell, Agatha and I can’t even fully commit to each other. This game of cat and mouse, it’s all we know. You’re right, you deserve more, so much more, but we don’t know how to give it. We don’t know what a domestic life looks like, we aren’t domestic people. I didn't think there would be any doubt in your head that we loved you, and maybe that just shows how fucked up we really are,” Rio monologues.

Her words hit you harshly. They make you want to start crying all over again. You cast your gaze to the floor.

“I guess that brings us back to the original point then, doesn’t it? Maybe it’s better if we just, end it here,” you can’t look at them.

“If that’s what you want?” Rio nods solemnly.

Agatha looks between the two of you, “Are you two stupid or something? You have to be if you think I’m just going to agree to this.”

“Agatha-”

“Don’t. I love you, both of you. I don’t want this to end and if that means changing the way things operate, then I guess things just have to change,” Agatha speaks seriously.

“What are yo-”

You startle when Agatha grabs your hands in both of hers. Her eyes locking fiercely onto yours. She doesn’t blink as she speaks, “Move in with me.”

“What?”

“You want time together, we can have time together. We’ve basically been together for centuries, come live with me.”

“Agatha, I think you've lost the plot,” Rio says, cautiously.

“You too Dr. Green Thumb. Let’s all move in together,” Agatha nods her head.

“That doesn’t fix everything,” you focus on her hands over yours.

She doesn’t hesitate to raise her hands to cup your face, “There’s obviously a lot to fix, but you can’t tell me this isn’t a step in the right direction. Y/n, I don’t want to- I can’t lose you. I’m not willing to let you go without a fight.”

Your face heats in her hands. Her eyes are ablaze with passion as they keep contact with yours.

You sigh and rest your forehead against hers, “I don’t know Agatha.”

Rio joins the moment, carefully wrapping her arms around your torso, “I don’t think any of us really know, but I think we’re supposed to find out together.”

“Please,” Agatha’s breath hits your lips. “Just a chance to make up for lost time. If it doesn’t work, then it doesn’t, but please don’t give up on us yet.”

Hearing Agatha beg like this tugs at your heart. You don’t want to give in this easily, but you’ve already wasted so much time.

“Ok.”

As the word falls from your lips, Agatha surges forward. You can recall the last time her lips were on yours. The warmth that they were able to send through your body. How firm she was in her kiss, not scared or uncertain as your lips moved together. She knew what she wanted and it was hard to picture a world in which she’d kiss someone she wasn’t interested in the way she was kissing you. You were the one she wanted.

Your legs grow weak, but Rio holds you steady. Her shifting grip, makes you turn to face her. Unlike Agatha she hesitates. She takes a moment to admire your features, she wasn’t in a rush. Neither were you. Rio’s kiss is softer than Agatha’s, her plush lips, move experimentally against yours. It’s not like she’s forgotten, more like she’s re-exploring. She's playful, as her teeth nibble on your bottom lip. You laugh at the sensation.

Rio rests her head on your shoulder. She extends her hands, motioning for the other witch to get closer. Agatha wraps her arms around the both of you. Her front to your back while her hands rest on Rio’s back. You’re encased by them, a feeling that is welcomed yet foreign to you.

“Promise that you'll keep me close” you say to both of them.

“Until the road ends, my love,” Agatha kisses the top of your head.

“I’ll hold you even after the road ends,” Rio kisses the base of your neck.

“Do you always have to one up me?” Agatha says to Rio.

Rio chuckles, “Sounds like a skill issue sweetheart.”

“Oh, we’ll see who has a skill issue later, when you’re begging me for help because my fingers are longer than yours,” Agatha says smugly.

Rio pulls back from you to glare at Agatha, “If you don’t want to ‘help’ me, I’ll just ask Y/n. Isn’t that right sweetheart?”

You blush at the innuendo.

“Nuh uh, bunny. I think I recall you liking my treats better, because someone has a skill issue,” Agatha sticks her tongue at Rio.

You turn an even deeper shade of red.

“You can never let an emotional moment be,” Rio says.

“Well you’re always trying to out ‘emotional’ me,” Agatha replies.

“It’s not my fault you’re not as smooth as me, mi vida,” Rio counters again.

Agatha throws her hands up, “I know Spanish and Latin too, you’re not special Vidal.”

Rio raises an eyebrow, “And who taught you?”

The back and forth makes you laugh, “Are you sure you don’t do domestic, because you bicker like an old married couple?”

They both huff at your statement.

“We’ll continue this at home,” Agatha points at Rio.

The brown eyed woman puts her hand over her heart in faux-fear, “Oooo, I’m terrified.”

Agatha opens a portal to her house and both women step through. Not stopping their bickering for a second. You smile as you watch them, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time.

“The portal isn’t going to stay open forever, bunny, come on,” Agatha reaches her hand to pull you through.

You take it, stepping into your new beginning.

[sunrenity]

⟡ㅤㅤCOMPASSㅤ┈─ㅤ엔하이픈

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ( 🎞 )ㅤㅤi might get lost without you

precis : you're their compass.

엔하이픈ㅤ୨୧ㅤenhypen x 𝒻em readerㅤ..ㅤest relationship, tooth-rotting fluffㅤ/ㅤidol au! for heeseung, 600-700 words per memberㅤㅤ( 4883 )

zehra's note.ㅤmight be in my thenbhd era

LEE HEESEUNG

the world was always loud around lee heeseung. the chaos of his daily life—practices, interviews, schedules—felt like a hurricane he could never quite escape. yet somehow, in the midst of it all, you were his constant.

heeseung always said you were like his north star.

“it’s cheesy,” he’d chuckle, running a hand through his hair as you sat across from him in your tiny favorite café. his face would light up in the way it always did when he teased you, dimples pressing deep into his cheeks. “but i mean it. without you, i’d just... drift.”

today was no different. you were seated together at a secluded corner table, the kind he requested specifically so no one would recognize him. a cup of steaming caramel latte sat untouched between his hands, growing colder by the second as he focused entirely on you. his gaze was warm, dark eyes soft as they traced your every move.

“you’re staring again, heeseung,” you teased, peering over the rim of your cup.

“can’t help it,” he admitted easily, leaning closer. his elbows rested on the table as his face inched toward yours, the faintest scent of his cologne lingering in the air. “you’re the only thing that makes sense these days.”

the weight of his words hung heavy between you, but not uncomfortably so. you knew what he meant, even if he wasn’t saying it outright. he didn’t need to. heeseung had always been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. every stolen glance, every gentle touch, every unspoken smile—it all told you the same story.

he needed you.

and it wasn’t in the dramatic, overbearing way some might imagine. heeseung wasn’t looking for someone to fix him or carry his burdens. he just needed you to remind him that amidst the chaos, there was still something real. something steady. something that felt like home.

“i think you give me too much credit,” you murmured, setting your drink down and meeting his gaze head-on.

“not possible,” he countered without missing a beat. “you’re the reason i know which way to go, even when i feel lost. like that time—”

he paused, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“what?” you prompted, leaning in slightly.

“remember the night before the showcase? when i was freaking out about forgetting the choreography?”

you nodded, vividly recalling the way he had paced back and forth in his living room, muttering steps under his breath until his voice cracked from exhaustion.

“you didn’t even flinch,” he continued, the fondness in his tone evident. “you just sat there, listening, and then dragged me out for ice cream at 2 a.m. like it was the most normal thing in the world.”

you laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. “you needed to get out of your own head. that’s all.”

heeseung shook his head, his smile widening. “no, i needed you.”

it wasn’t the first time he’d said it, and you doubted it would be the last. but every time he did, it felt like a little thread tying you closer to him, weaving your lives together in a way that felt impossible to undo.

“you know,” he said after a moment, reaching across the table to brush his fingers against yours, “i don’t tell you enough how much i appreciate you.”

your breath hitched slightly at the tenderness in his voice. it was rare for heeseung to let his walls down completely, but when he did, it always felt like a privilege to witness.

“you don’t have to,” you replied, curling your fingers around his. “i already know.”

he smiled then, the kind of smile that made you feel like the most important person in the world.

in that moment, you realized that being his compass didn’t mean guiding him to a destination. it meant being the place he could return to, no matter how far he wandered. and as his fingers tightened around yours, you knew you’d be that for him—always.

PARK JONGSEONG

it was almost comical how park jay always seemed to know what he was doing. he was the kind of person who made the world look effortless, like he had it all figured out. from his perfectly timed jokes to the confident way he carried himself, people assumed he never faltered. but you knew better. 

beneath the cool exterior, jay was just as lost as anyone else. maybe even more so. 

he’d told you that once, late one autumn night as the two of you sat on the hood of his car. the air was crisp, tinged with the earthy smell of fallen leaves, and the sky stretched endlessly above you, scattered with stars. jay’s jacket was draped over your shoulders, warm and slightly oversized, while he leaned back, one leg propped up on the bumper and the other dangling lazily. 

“i don’t know where i’m going half the time,” he admitted, his voice low and quiet, like the confession wasn’t meant to reach anyone but you. 

you turned to him then, his profile illuminated by the faint glow of the streetlight. his expression was unreadable, but you saw the vulnerability in his eyes—the kind he rarely let anyone see. 

“you always seem like you do,” you said softly. 

he chuckled, the sound dry and humorless. “that’s the trick, isn’t it? make it look like you’ve got it all together so no one bothers asking questions.” 

it was such a jay thing to say, and yet it broke your heart a little. because while everyone else saw the polished version of him, you saw the cracks. the uncertainty. the quiet ache of someone who was searching for something he couldn’t quite name. 

“you don’t have to pretend with me, you know,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

he glanced at you then, his dark eyes locking onto yours like he was searching for something. and maybe he found it, because his shoulders relaxed just a little, and the corners of his mouth lifted in the faintest hint of a smile. 

“that’s why i need you,” he said simply. 

the words settled between you, heavy with meaning. you didn’t respond right away, unsure of how to articulate the warmth spreading through your chest. jay wasn’t the type to say things he didn’t mean, and you knew this was as close to a confession as he’d ever get. 

“where are we going tonight?” you asked instead, breaking the silence. 

he smiled then, a real one this time, and it was the kind of smile that made you feel like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. 

“does it matter?” he asked, tilting his head to look at you. 

you shook your head, a small laugh escaping your lips. “no, i guess it doesn’t.” 

and it was true. being with jay always felt like enough, no matter where you ended up. whether it was on an aimless drive through the city, sprawled out on the living room floor listening to records, or sitting in comfortable silence as the world moved on around you—he made every moment feel significant. 

maybe that’s why he called you his compass. not because you showed him where to go, but because you reminded him that the destination didn’t matter as long as he had you by his side. 

“you know,” he said suddenly, breaking your train of thought, “i think you’re the only person who gets me.” 

you turned to him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “that’s not true.” 

“it is,” he insisted, his gaze unwavering. “no one else makes me feel... grounded. like i’m not just floating around, waiting for something to happen.” 

there it was again—that honesty he reserved only for you. it was overwhelming at times, the way he opened up to you so completely, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

“i’m glad i can be that for you,” you said finally, your voice soft but steady. 

he reached for your hand then, his fingers warm against yours despite the cool night air. his touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he was afraid you might pull away.

but you didn’t.

instead, you held on tighter, letting him know without words that you weren’t going anywhere. 

because if jay was lost, you’d be his guide. and if he ever doubted where he belonged, you’d remind him. 

you were his compass, after all. and he was your home.

SIM JAEYUN

jake was always moving. whether it was the way he gestured enthusiastically as he spoke or how he could never stay in one place for too long, there was a restless energy to him that you couldn’t help but admire. he was a whirlwind of spontaneity, someone who craved adventure and thrived on the unknown. 

but even whirlwinds need somewhere to land. 

jake often joked that you were his anchor. 

“if i didn’t have you, i’d probably end up in the middle of nowhere without a clue how i got there,” he’d say, laughing as he tossed his arm around your shoulders. the way he looked at you, though, made you think there was more truth to it than he let on. 

today was one of those rare moments when jake wasn’t moving. you sat together at the edge of a quiet lake, its surface rippling gently in the breeze. the sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the water and painting the world in warm, honeyed hues. 

jake leaned back on his elbows, legs stretched out in front of him as he gazed at the horizon. his golden-brown hair glinted in the light, messy from the wind, and his lips curved into a soft smile as he turned to you. 

“do you ever feel like you’re not sure where you’re going?” he asked suddenly, his voice quieter than usual. 

you glanced at him, caught off guard by the question. jake was usually so sure of himself, so carefree. but in that moment, there was a vulnerability in his expression that made your heart ache. 

“sometimes,” you admitted, pulling your knees to your chest. “but i think that’s normal.” 

he nodded, his gaze drifting back to the water. “it’s just... sometimes it feels like no matter how far i go or how many places i see, i’m still looking for something i can’t find.” 

there was a pause, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable but filled with unspoken thoughts. 

“and when you’re with me?” you asked softly. 

jake’s head snapped toward you, his eyes widening slightly as if he hadn’t expected the question. but then his expression softened, and a small, almost shy smile tugged at his lips. 

“when i’m with you,” he said, his voice steady, “it feels like i’ve already found it.” 

your breath caught at the sincerity in his tone. jake had always been charming, always quick with a joke or a playful comment, but this was different. this was real. 

“jake...” 

he sat up then, leaning closer until his face was mere inches from yours. his dark eyes searched yours, warm and steady despite the uncertainty he’d just confessed. 

“you’re the only thing that makes sense,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “even when everything else feels... chaotic.” 

it wasn’t the first time he’d said something like that, but it was the first time it felt so raw, so open. jake wasn’t one to dwell on heavy emotions, but when it came to you, he never held back. 

“maybe that’s because you’re always running,” you teased gently, trying to lighten the mood. “you don’t give yourself time to just be.” 

jake chuckled, the sound soft and warm. “maybe. but if i stopped running, i wouldn’t have found you.” 

the weight of his words settled over you, wrapping around your heart like a warm blanket. jake had a way of saying things that made you feel like the most important person in the world, like you were the reason the stars hung in the sky. 

“besides,” he added, a playful glint returning to his eyes, “you’re the one who keeps me on track. my compass, remember?” 

you rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “you’re ridiculous.” 

“ridiculously lucky,” he shot back, leaning in to nudge your shoulder with his. 

you laughed, the sound echoing across the lake, and jake’s smile widened in response. in that moment, it didn’t matter where he was going or what he was searching for. all that mattered was that he was here, with you, and for once, the restlessness inside him had quieted. 

because with you, jake didn’t feel lost. he felt found.

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon wasn’t someone who expressed himself easily. words didn’t come naturally to him, at least not the kind that bared his heart. but you’d always known how to read between the lines, to find meaning in the silences where others might see emptiness. 

he said it once, offhandedly, that you were like his compass. 

“i just... think better when you’re around,” he’d muttered, his voice quiet as his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his jacket. his cheeks had turned a faint pink as he avoided your eyes, but the admission lingered, warm and sweet. 

now, standing at the edge of a frozen lake, you watched sunghoon skate effortlessly across the ice. he moved like the winter wind—graceful, sure, yet untouchable. the early evening light glinted off the smooth surface, painting his figure in soft shades of gold and blue. 

you stood bundled in your coat and scarf, shivering slightly as you watched him circle back toward you. he stopped a few feet away, the blades of his skates slicing cleanly into the ice, sending a spray of frost into the air. 

“cold?” he asked, his voice steady but tinged with concern. 

“a little,” you admitted, smiling as you rubbed your gloved hands together. “but it’s worth it to see you like this. you’re amazing out there.” 

his gaze flickered down, and for a moment, you thought you saw a hint of a smile on his lips. sunghoon wasn’t one for grand reactions, but you’d learned to notice the small ones—the way his shoulders relaxed when you complimented him, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you. 

“come here,” he said, holding out his hand. 

you hesitated, glancing at your boots. “i’m not exactly a skating prodigy like you, sunghoon. i’ll probably fall on my face.” 

his lips twitched upward, the faintest ghost of a smile. “i won’t let you.” 

something about the quiet confidence in his voice made you believe him. tentatively, you reached for his hand, and he pulled you gently onto the ice. his touch was firm but careful, as if he were afraid of hurting you. 

“just relax,” he said, his other hand coming to rest lightly on your waist. “i’ve got you.” 

and he did. as he guided you across the ice, his movements slow and deliberate, you felt the tension in your body melt away. the world around you faded, leaving only the quiet sound of skates gliding and the warmth of his hands steadying you. 

“you make this look so easy,” you said, glancing up at him. 

“it’s not as hard as it looks,” he replied, his tone calm. “you just have to trust yourself.” 

you raised an eyebrow. “is that what you do?” 

his lips curved slightly, a soft laugh escaping him. “sometimes.” 

the honesty in his voice surprised you. sunghoon rarely admitted to uncertainty—it wasn’t his style. but in moments like this, when it was just the two of you, he let his guard down in a way that made your heart ache. 

“hey,” you said gently, squeezing his hand. “you don’t have to have it all figured out, you know.” 

he looked at you then, his dark eyes meeting yours. for a moment, it felt like the whole world had gone still. 

“you make it easier,” he said softly. 

the words were simple, but the weight behind them wasn’t lost on you. sunghoon wasn’t someone who spoke in grand declarations or flowery phrases, but when he said something, he meant it. 

“you’re my compass,” he added after a pause, his voice quieter now. “even when i don’t know where i’m going, i know i’ll be okay as long as you’re with me.” 

your chest tightened at the raw vulnerability in his words. this was the sunghoon only you got to see—the boy who felt deeply but struggled to express it, who showed his love in actions rather than words. 

“i’m not going anywhere,” you said, your voice steady. “i promise.” 

his lips twitched again, and this time the smile reached his eyes. it was small, almost shy, but it was real. 

“good,” he said, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. 

together, you continued to glide across the ice, his hand never leaving yours. and in that moment, it didn’t matter where the world took him or how lost he might feel at times. because no matter what, you’d be there to guide him. 

just as he always guided you.

KIM SUNOO

sunoo had a way of brightening every space he entered. it wasn’t just the brilliance of his smile or the warmth in his eyes—it was something deeper, something unexplainable. he carried an energy that made you feel like, no matter how lost you were, everything was going to be okay. 

but even someone like sunoo had his shadows. 

the two of you walked side by side along a winding path in the park, the world around you cloaked in a soft, rolling fog. the trees loomed like quiet sentinels, their skeletal branches weaving into the pale gray sky. your breath puffed out in faint clouds, mingling with the damp air, and the faint crunch of leaves beneath your boots was the only sound breaking the silence. 

sunoo was quiet today. 

it wasn’t like him. normally, he’d fill the space with chatter—little stories about his day, playful teasing, or random observations that made you laugh. but now, his hands were shoved into his pockets, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. 

“sunoo?” you said softly, glancing at him. 

he hummed in acknowledgment, but he didn’t meet your gaze. 

“is everything okay?” 

for a moment, he didn’t answer. the fog seemed to press in closer, the world shrinking around you. then he sighed, the sound soft and almost hesitant. 

“do you ever feel like... like you’re not enough?” he asked, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. 

the question hit you like a sudden gust of wind, unexpected and disorienting. sunoo—the boy who radiated confidence and joy—felt this way? 

“sunoo,” you said gently, stopping in your tracks. he paused too, turning to face you with a tentative look in his eyes. 

“you’re more than enough,” you said firmly. 

he blinked, surprised by the conviction in your voice. “you don’t understand,” he murmured, looking away. “sometimes, it feels like no matter how hard i try, i’m always falling short. like... like i’m just faking it, and one day, everyone’s going to realize.” 

his words trailed off, and you saw the vulnerability etched into his expression. it broke your heart to see him like this, so uncertain, so fragile. 

“you’re not faking it,” you said, stepping closer. “you’re incredible, sunoo. you’re kind and thoughtful, and you make people feel seen and loved in a way no one else can.” 

he opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off. 

“and even when you’re feeling like this—when you’re doubting yourself—you’re still enough. more than enough.” 

sunoo stared at you, his eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears. then, slowly, a small, almost hesitant smile broke across his face. 

“you always know what to say,” he said softly. 

you shook your head, returning his smile. “it’s not about knowing what to say. i just know you. and i know how special you are, even if you don’t see it right now.” 

the fog around you seemed to lighten, the world growing a little brighter. sunoo’s smile grew, and this time, it reached his eyes, chasing away the lingering shadows. 

“thank you,” he said quietly. 

“you don’t have to thank me,” you replied, taking his hand in yours. “just... let me remind you whenever you forget, okay?” 

he nodded, squeezing your hand gently. “okay.” 

the two of you started walking again, the path ahead still shrouded in mist but somehow feeling less daunting. sunoo’s hand stayed in yours, his grip warm and steady. 

you were his compass, even if he didn’t realize it. and just like he lit up the world for everyone else, you’d be the light that guided him through his darkest moments. 

YANG JUNGWON

jungwon was a quiet storm. he wasn’t loud or overly expressive, but everything about him carried a subtle intensity—a calm, steady rhythm that grounded you when the world felt chaotic. 

you often thought of him as the anchor that kept you steady. but if you asked him, he’d say the same about you. 

it was a rare rainy afternoon, the kind where the sky was more silver than gray, and the soft patter of raindrops created a soothing melody against the windows. the two of you sat on the floor of his small living room, a blanket draped over your shoulders as you shared the space in easy silence. the warm glow of a single lamp painted everything in soft hues, turning the mundane into something quietly magical. 

jungwon sat across from you, his legs crossed and his fingers absently toying with the edge of the blanket you shared. his dark hair was slightly mussed, and his sweater looked a size too big, the sleeves brushing his knuckles as he moved. 

“what are you thinking about?” you asked, breaking the silence. 

his gaze flickered up to meet yours, the corners of his lips curling into a faint smile. “you always ask me that.” 

“because you always look like you’re lost in thought,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your foot. 

he chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, like the first sip of hot tea on a cold day. “maybe i just like thinking when i’m with you.” 

the casual sincerity of his words made your breath catch. that was the thing about jungwon—he didn’t need grand gestures or flowery words to make you feel special. he did it in the little things, the quiet moments. 

“what about right now?” you pressed gently. “what are you thinking about right now?” 

he hesitated, his gaze dropping to his hands. for a moment, you thought he might deflect, but then he surprised you. 

“i was thinking about how... steady everything feels when you’re here,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “like, no matter what’s going on, i know i’ll be okay if i’m with you.” 

your heart swelled at his confession, and you leaned forward, resting your chin on your knees as you watched him. “jungwon...” 

he glanced up, his dark eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability that he rarely showed. “you’re my compass,” he continued, his voice steadier now. “you remind me where i’m supposed to be, even when i start to lose track of myself.” 

the honesty in his words left you momentarily speechless. jungwon wasn’t the type to bare his emotions so openly, but when he did, it was with a quiet strength that left no room for doubt. 

“you’re where you’re supposed to be,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “and you’re doing just fine, jungwon. more than fine.” 

he exhaled a quiet laugh, his fingers tightening around yours. “i don’t always feel that way.” 

“that’s okay,” you said, squeezing his hand gently. “you don’t have to have it all figured out. that’s what i’m here for, remember?” 

his smile widened, and for a moment, the room felt warmer, brighter. jungwon had a way of making the simplest moments feel profound, as if the world slowed down just for the two of you. 

“thank you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. 

“for what?” you asked, tilting your head. 

“for being you,” he said simply. 

the rain continued to fall outside, its rhythm steady and soothing. and as you sat there, your hands entwined and the world quiet around you, you realized that jungwon wasn’t just your anchor—he was the steady rhythm you didn’t know you needed. 

and you? you were his compass, guiding him gently back to himself every time he lost his way.

NISHIMURA RIKI

riki wasn’t one to say what he felt outright. his emotions weren’t something he wore on his sleeve, nor did he hand them out freely to the world. to most people, he was an enigma—a mix of sharp wit and quiet confidence, always keeping others at arm’s length. 

but not with you. 

you had a way of getting past his defenses, slipping through the cracks in his armor like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. you didn’t push or pry; you simply stayed, steady and unwavering, until he let you in. 

tonight, the two of you found yourselves at the edge of the city, sitting on the hood of his car with the skyline sprawled out below. the faint hum of distant traffic filled the cool night air, and the stars above blinked faintly against the darkness. 

riki leaned back on his elbows, his long legs stretched out before him. his dark hair fell loosely over his forehead, and the soft glow of the city lights painted his sharp features in shades of silver and gold. he was quiet tonight, his usual playful banter replaced by a contemplative stillness. 

“you’ve been quiet,” you remarked, glancing over at him. 

he smirked faintly, tilting his head to look at you. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.” 

“it’s not,” you replied, your lips curving into a small smile. “just unusual.” 

he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “guess i’ve got a lot on my mind.” 

you waited, giving him the space to continue if he wanted to. with riki, patience was key. he wasn’t someone who spilled his thoughts easily, but when he did, it was worth every second of the wait. 

“i’ve been thinking about us,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. 

the admission caught you off guard, and your heart skipped a beat. “oh?” you said softly, your gaze locking onto his. 

he sat up then, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared out at the skyline. “i’ve always been good at figuring things out—what i want, where i’m going. but with you...” he trailed off, his brows furrowing slightly as he searched for the right words. 

“with me?” you prompted gently. 

“with you, it’s different,” he said, turning to meet your eyes. “you make me feel... anchored. like no matter where i’m going, it doesn’t matter as long as you’re there.” 

the vulnerability in his voice sent a wave of warmth through you. riki wasn’t someone who opened up easily, and hearing him say those words felt like he was handing you a piece of his heart. 

“you know,” you began, a soft smile tugging at your lips, “you’re not as hard to figure out as you think.” 

he raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “oh, really?” 

“really,” you said, leaning slightly closer. “you act all cool and aloof, but deep down, you care more than you let on. you just don’t like showing it.” 

his smirk widened, but there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes. “you think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?” 

“pretty much,” you teased, your smile growing. 

he shook his head, but the amusement in his expression was unmistakable. “you’re something else, you know that?” 

“i’ll take that as a compliment,” you quipped, your tone light. 

“it is,” he said quietly, his voice taking on a more serious note. “you make me... better. i don’t know how else to say it, but you do. you’re like my compass or something. you remind me where i’m supposed to be, even when i lose sight of it myself.” 

the sincerity in his words made your chest tighten. for all his teasing and confidence, riki had a depth to him that he didn’t show to just anyone. but here, under the vast expanse of the night sky, he was letting you see it. 

“you’re not as lost as you think you are,” you said softly, your gaze steady. “but i’ll always be here, just in case you need reminding.” 

for a moment, he didn’t say anything. then, he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours before entwining them together. his grip was firm, steady, but there was a gentleness to it that made your heart flutter. 

“good,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “because i don’t think i ever want to figure things out without you.” 

the city lights continued to shimmer in the distance, the hum of the world fading into the background. and as the two of you sat there, hand in hand, it was clear that neither of you needed a map or a plan. 

because wherever you went, you’d always be his true north.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Ever Since We Met

Spoiler: Jason dies in the warehouse. ~1.5k words

Jason Todd is six years old and snot nosed when he falls in love with his best friend. Sure, he doesn't exactly know what love is, but he makes sure he's standing next to you when the class lines up so he can hold your hand.

He gets a weird feeling in his stomach (he’s not completely convinced that it’s jealousy, despite what the teacher tries to explain) when you follow other kids around the playground instead of him.

But, he does recognize the excitement he feels when you seek him out to be coloring partners during class instead of the girl sitting next to you.

He loves you as much as a six year old can. Especially when he gets to sleep over at your house and you turn your bed into a fortress of blankets and pillows for you both to sleep in. Those nights are his favorite, and you both drift off to whispered stories and hushed giggles.

Jason Todd is ten years old and getting used to growing pains when he develops a crush on his best friend. At least, he thinks it’s a crush. It feels different than being in love, even if he hasn’t quite grasped the fact that he is in love.

He's more hyper aware of what he does now, how he treats you. Sometimes, the way you smile makes him stumble over his words, and his face go hot. He distracts himself and you from it by asking about homework or that one TV show you that you watch on Saturday mornings.

Jason decides he likes that you’ll press to his side when you’re reading, lost in your own worlds together without a need to fill the silence, crush or not.

He likes that you’ll trade half of your sandwich for his and sneak him doodles and notes during class. (He won’t admit it, but he keeps them in a box under his bed. Sometimes they’re the only reason he doesn’t run away from it all)

He doesn’t bother to mask his obvious preference for you, even when the other kids try to tease him for his crush.

You’re always quick to threaten anyone who tries to put him down, anyway, and he’s more than happy to do the same for you. And when you offer him a high five for scaring off some of the older kids, He decides it doesn’t matter if it’s a crush or not, as long as you stay his best friend.

Jason Todd is twelve when he becomes Robin. It’s hard, well, not being Robin, that’s a magic entirely its own, but being away from you.

He lives in a manor that's bigger than the entire floor of the apartment building he used to live in. He's learned how to do a backflip while throwing a punch in midair. He has more at his fingertips now than he's ever had in the entire first eleven years of his life.

But he misses you. Sometimes, it feels like a phantom limb. Something he's always reaching for, but never quite grasping. It helps that you've gotten a scholarship to his new school, but it's still not enough.

He can't explain it, but he gets greedy for your time. You don't seem to mind the sporadic hangouts, or how often he has to cancel or leave. He kind of wishes you would, just to show that you care as much as he does.

He redoubles his efforts to be a good Robin when you tell him about the dealer that moved into the apartment next to yours. He resolves to be a better friend when you tell him the fancy suits he has to wear to galas look good on him.

His feelings don't change once, even if he hasn't quite found a balance between vigilante and civilian, he knows you're the one thing he can't let go of.

Jason is fifteen years old and about to die when he realizes the person he wants to see most is you. He's always known it, in the back of his mind, but as the blaring red numbers tick lower and lower, he just wishes he could hear your voice one more time.

It's you. Always been. And he's never said it. Never let you know.

His body aches. His leg is twisted the wrong way. His breathing is shallow and raspy. His vision is blurring, and he wants to live. But his mom is still trapped in this warehouse with him, and he's Robin. Robin helps, and that's what he'll do.

Jason drags himself to his mother's side to help, moves despite the gnawing, indescribable pain with every movement.

He's still trying to help, trying to sheild her from harm, as the numbers drop to zero. Zero. Zero. Zero.

What happens next doesn't hurt more than anything else did. And he has enough time to picture the color of your eyes before it all goes to black.

Jason Todd is eighteen when he dons the name Red Hood and becomes Gotham's biggest crime lord in a matter of months.

He stays far away from you, even if your memory has haunted him since the moment he woke up in that cursed pit. (and if he tries to remember, the moment since he first woke up in his own grave)

He's eighteen still, when his empire crumbles and he's left without a path, a purpose. He carries the weight of his years with the league, sags under the strain of not knowing who he is anymore.

He stays far away from you, sticks to the cracks and shadows of Gotham until his name is no longer whispered in fear. Then, and only then, is he brave enough to take off his helmet in front of you.

It's a relief and a terror all at once to finally see the color of your eyes from something other than a memory, and when his heartbeat starts to stutter, he knows he's never really grown out of being in love with you.

You've gotten older. (He shouldn't be surprised, he has too. He just always pictured you growing old together)

Your eyes still light up like he's your favorite person in the room. (He thinks he's allowed to be surprised about that)

But it's when you breathe out that he's home, that he figures out you've been waiting for him. Neither of you seem to know what to say after that, but you don't run for the hills in terror. And for the moment, that's enough.

Jason is twenty-one and passing the first (legally) acquired bottle of alcohol you've ever bought. You laugh about how it still tastes the same, and his heart nearly leaps out of his chest at the sound.

He loves you. It sings in his blood, settles on his tongue, he just doesn't know how to say it. He shows it, or at least he tries, but sometimes he's still waiting for this all to be a dream. It should have been impossible, how easily he slipped back into your life.

It was easy. So easy. Everything was easy with you. That's probably why he spills his guts.

He doesn't quite say it the right way, doesn't manage to get the word 'love' out. But he says enough to get his feelings out.

It's not poetic, not grand as you deserve, but somehow he manages to articulate the way butterflies create a hurricane in his stomach when you're around, how his gaze is always drawn to you, how he can't help but lean into the sound of your voice, the warmth of your touch.

Maybe he says a little too much about how he's been head over heels since the day you've met, because you just stare at him.

He's almost ready to run, to blame it all on the one measly shot he's had. This is, until you kiss him. And oh, it's everything he never dared to dream it would be.

It's a little messy, sure, the angle a little strange as you crane across the couch to tangle your fingers in his hair. But it's perfect, it's you, and Jason falls in love all over again.

Jason Todd is twenty-three and still learning how to say I love you. It's not that he loves you any less, if anything, he loves you now more than ever. It's just still something he's getting used to.

Love is something you've given to him so freely, something he's happy to return. But it scares him, sometimes. He worries that if he says it out loud too much, the universe will realize how great of a gift he's been given, and rip it away.

It might be irrational, but he holds the word love close to his heart anyway, unwilling to test fate anymore than he already does by putting on that red helmet.

He whispers it to you in the dead of night instead, says it with touch instead of sound, shows it with soft, shine of his eye. He squeezes your hand when you say it to him, does his best to make it clear he feels the same, even if he can't get the words out.

He'll get it eventually, figure out how to get it off his tongue. He has to.

Especially if he wants to show you the pretty little band of shining, precious metal he has tucked away in a velvet box.

[inmyheaddd]

walkin’ out the door with your bags — part 6

⤷ “i’m not the type to run, i know we’re having fun,”

summary: you and gigi are peacefully enjoying your day, when you find out, grayson’s… back? and he wants to talk. what could go wrong? wc: 3.0k masterlist || part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5

14 years old… 

you found him hiding in the library.  

he was slumped in the corner, knees pulled to his chest, head buried in his arms. at first, you weren’t sure it was him—grayson hawthorne never looked so… small. 

his usually pristine shirt slightly wrinkled like he’d been tugging at the hem, and it wasn’t tucked in. he didn’t look straight at you when you stepped in, but he didn’t tell you to leave either.  

“what do you want?” his voice cracked, but he tried to sound cold.  

you didn’t answer. instead, you sat down beside him, legs crossed, like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

he blinked at you, waiting for an explanation, but you just shrugged. years of knowing each other, and it always went down like this. 

“company.” you picked a random book off the nearest shelf and flipped it open. “you can pretend i’m not here.”

he didn’t reply.

minutes passed. long enough that you thought maybe he really would ignore you. at one point, you began actually reading the book you were pretending to read, and nearly forgot about the boy beside you.

but then, out of nowhere, he spoke.

“i don’t know what to do.” he admitted slowly. “there’s this girl… emily,” he said, his voice low, and you felt your heart beat faster. “and… my brother. jameson.”

your chest tightened, though you weren’t sure why. your kept your gaze fixed on the pages of your book, but your hands had stopped turning the pages.

“what about them?” you asked carefully, glancing at him for a second.

he ran a hand through his hair. “she’s… complicated. and jameson—he doesn’t think. he just jumps into things, never stops to think what it might do to everyone else.”

you hesitated, breath hitching as you studied the way he wouldn’t look straight into your eyes. whatever this was, clearly meant a lot.

he continued, looking down at the floor. “it gets repetitive. jameson, emily—they don’t think about the damage until it’s too late. and then they leave me to clean it up. and stupidly, for some reason, i do. i always do.”

you’ve seen grayson sad before, but this was different. he looked… lost. and angry. and for someone like grayson, who always carried himself like he had the whole world in order, it was jarring.

“you’re allowed to be mad, you know,” you said.

that made him pause. “i’m not mad,” he said, but the words sounded like a blatant lie.

your shoulders were barely touching , but the act alone felt larger than anything else. 

you tilted your head, a soft smile growing on your face. “okay, then you’re… frustrated? dissapointed? annoyed? irritated? pick your adjective.”

that earned the tiniest flicker of a smile, and your chest felt a little lighter, but then it disappeared just as quickly. he looked at you then, and something about the way his eyes searched your face made your breath catch.

“sometimes, i think you’re the only person who actually sees me,” he said quietly.

your heart stuttered, and for a second, you couldn’t think of anything to say. 

but then you smiled, “of course i see you,” you rolled your eyes jokingly like he hadn’t just sincerely confirmed that he really did see you as a friend, after years of just feeling like you pestered him. 

your cheeks reddened, “i’m your friend, that’s what i’m here for.” 

“but, you know,” you continued, “you’re surrounded by people who care about you,” you said softly, taking the focus away from you, and back to being there for grayson. “just let yourself see it. don’t push them away.”

his head snapped up at that, his sharp eyes meeting yours. “but people never just… stay.” he mumbled. “they have their own lives, their own motives.”

you stayed. you always would. “that doesn’t mean you have to shut everyone out,” you said, your voice steadier now.

“not everyone’s going to hurt you, grayson. but you won’t know that if you keep closing the door before anyone gets close. i mean, i annoyed you for so many years straight even when you pushed me away.” you said. 

“not everyone has my extreme level of patience and willingness to accept moody brooding.” you joked to lighten the moment, but there was truth behind it, he couldn’t expect people to stick around if he pushed them away.

he stared at you for a long moment, and something in his expression cracked, like he wanted to believe you but didn’t quite know how yet. 

he looked back at the floor, “you never actually irritated me,” he admitted, “and i never hated you. perhaps you’re right, i don’t… i don’t like to let people in.” 

you shrugged casually, “i’m always right.” 

he looked at you with a newfound softness in his eyes. “you’re annoyingly persistent, you know that?” he said finally, your shoulders still brushing against each other. 

“oh, i know.” you grinned. “if i wasn’t, we wouldn’t be friends right now.” you said with a small smile. “someone’s gotta stick around to remind you you’re not as alone as you think.”

for a while, neither of you said anything. grayson leaned his head back against the wall, letting out a long, quiet breath. 

that was when you knew he was replaying your words, letting them sink in—even if he wouldn’t say it outloud. 

— 

present

after days of confusion and radio silence from grayson, you finally told yourself that you were done overthinking. gigi had dragged you to your favorite ice cream shop for a much-needed distraction. 

the two of you sat at your usual table near the front, the smell of waffle cones and the soft hum of background music lulling you back into some sense of normalcy. that was until gigi leaned closer, her voice a hushed whisper.

“don’t look now, but…” gigi trailed off, her eyes going behind you once again. “grayson is kind of, um, here. and sitting behind you.” 

considering gigi had made very careful effort to not even mention his name around you — even when you persisted you didn’t care— hearing graysons name come from her lips stunned you for a moment, then you realized what she had just said. 

“what?” you whispered in shock, and then you turned around before you could think it twice. 

there were quite a few people in the shop, so there was quiet chatter mixed with the background music, but it all seemed to silence. 

but there he was, grayson hawthorne, sitting in the back of the empty icecream shop, glasses on typing on his computer.

‘who did he think he was?’ you thought, ‘coming to our— my place? the one that i introduced him to?’ 

you focused on the anger so you wouldn’t feel anything else. 

what on earth was he doing here? who the hell comes to an ice cream shop and doesn’t even get anything? and does what, office work? and who—

he looked up through his glasses, and you realized to late that you were sort of… full blown staring. 

he met your eyes for the briefest of seconds as you turned your head back around. 

“holy cow…” gigi mumbled as she looked down at her icecream, “he’s giving you a major longing stare right now.”

“okay,” you hummed, raising your eyebrows momentarily in lieu of a shrug that he would he able to see, “i don’t care.”

“sure you don’t,” she replied knowingly, dragging her spoon through her melting sundae. you gave her a look that said you didn’t agree, and that you seriously did not care, but she didn’t say anything. 

a beat passed before gigi suddenly grinned. “okay. in five seconds, i’m giving him a major angry glare.” she mumbled under her breath. 

“gigi, do not.”

“three…

“seriously, don’t.”

“two… one. i’m doing it!”

“gigi!”

she tilted her head back up, and bless her heart, gave her best attempt at a seething glare at grayson. 

it was sort of impossible for her to look angry with her wide blue eyes, no matter how hard she furrowed her brows. 

and she didn’t let up at it for a few seconds, then raised her eyebrows — half surprised and half amused. “ha,” she grinned to herself and fisted the air. “he looked away first. loser.” 

he was probably just crazily confused, you reckoned. 

“okay,” you chuckled under your breath, your cheeks reddening by the second. “um, should we leave now?”

“no,” gigi whined, taking a bite of her icecream. “that’ll make it obvious we’re mad. besides, i haven’t finished my icecream.” 

“well, i think that look you gave him made it more obvious,” you told her, and she only laughed as she shook her head. “but alright.” 

it wasn’t long before you left. you didn’t even have an appetite any more, and you were too overly aware of a presence behind you to focus on anything else. gigi finished her icecream promptly. 

the drive home was quiet. gigi hummed along to the radio, her mood as bright as ever, but you couldn’t shake the tightness in your chest. 

your thoughts churned, questions you’d been trying to bury for a few days swirling all over again.

“you’re quiet,” gigi said after a while, her tone soft. she glanced at you, concerned, but you only shook your head, trying to force a small smile.

“just tired,” you mumbled.

gigi didn’t push, and you could tell she didn’t buy it.

you pulled into the driveway and sat there for a moment, the car engine ticking softly as it cooled. gigi patted your arm before grabbing her bag and heading inside.

you smiled and nodded, muttering something like ‘i’ll meet you inside,’ and you stayed behind for a moment, staring at the steering wheel.

your phone was put on silent, then you scrolled through your notifications. 

grayson 

— Hi, I believe I saw you and Gigi today

you

— yeah haha i think gigi told me she saw you  i thought you were gone for 8 days? — it’s nice to see you back

grayson 

— Likewise. — I think we should talk, It’s been long overdue. 

a scoff escaped before you could stop it. the audacity.

your fingers moved before your brain could catch up.

you

— ok — talk then 

grasyon

— Would you be alright with talking in person?

you 

— yeah sure whatever — where?

grayson

— I’ll come to you.

you

— maybe not — i don’t want to disturb gigi

grayson

— Our park spot, then?

you

— ok

your heart slammed in your chest. you sat there for a moment, staring at the screen wordlessly, trying to process what just happened. 

our? how could he even still use that word?

this was happening, you were going to talk to grayson for real this time. you anticipated it wouldn’t end good. things with him were rarely easy.

you put on your headphones to numb your thoughts, pulled on a hoodie, and made your way out the house. 

the playground was completely empty, which was usually how it was when you and grayson used to go. the sun was already beginning to set when you walked out of your house, and it was fully dark once you arrived, making your way toward your spot. the bench.

it wasn’t anything special—just a worn wooden bench tucked away at the edge of the playground. but it had been yours. you and grayson’s.

he was already there when you arrived, sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, staring at the ground like it might have the answers he needed.

you sat down on the opposite end of the bench, keeping a deliberate distance. “okay,” you said, crossing your arms. “talk.” the park was eerily quiet, the air cooling rapidly as the sun finally disappeared behind the trees. the bench felt cold under your fingers as you sat down, the weight of the moment settling in.

his eyes flicked to yours, and for the first time, you thought you saw a hint of guilt there. 

you were both silent for a few seconds, before you looked away, down at the floor.

“fine, if you won’t talk, i will.” you muttered. 

“grayson,” you sighed, “you can’t just—” you started, your voice breaking slightly before you caught yourself. 

you cleared your throat, willing the tears to stay put. “you can’t just disappear and then show up like nothing happened. like i’m supposed to just... what? forget it?”

he inhaled, then hesitated. “you know, i never meant it to be like this. i didn’t mean for it to feel like that.” he said quietly, his tone so calm that it just made you more angry.

“feel like what, grayson?” you finally snapped your head towards his. “like you were ignoring me? like you couldn’t be bothered to let me know what was going on? because that’s exactly what it felt like.”

his jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything.

“that’s it?” you scoffed, followed by a bitter laugh as you sat up straight. “you disappear, you come back, and all you’ve got is ‘i didn’t mean for it to feel like that?’”

he wielded silence like a weapon, just like he always had.

you continued, still. “what’s going on with you? you’re acting so— so different, i barely even recognize you.”

he let out a breath as he looked away, running a hand through his hair. “please, don’t make this harder than it already is,” he started, his voice calm but careful. “yes, we are good friends, but we’ve tarnished that too far for us to ever be simply friends again.”

“what? grayson,” you said through a forced laugh, “what are you even saying right now?” you knew precisely what he was saying. 

“you’re a good person.” he said, almost sounding like he was begging for you to see his point, “you’re a lovely person, the most caring and funniest person i’ve met. you deserve better, i’m not the person for you.” 

“grayson, what is wrong with you?” you couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity at what you were hearing, but you were so frustrated at his… selfishness.

“i want you, you want me, right? it’s that simple! just let us be us.”

“it’s never that simple.” he shook his head, that one strand falling back into his face. his brows furrowed slightly like the words hurt him to say.

“it is that simple! you’re making no sense, just— just stop.” you stood up, and he followed, fear flashing in his eyes momentarily. 

you took a slow step away from him.

“you kissed me! you kissed me.” your voice crackled, and you swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to keep going. “if you knew from day one that you couldn’t do this, you should’ve just spared me the effort and left me alone.”

he looked at you like you’d shot a dagger through his heart, though his eyes were the only thing that showed it. were you being unfair? probably. but in your eyes, you had every right to be. 

as much as both of you hated to admit, his eyes were far too easy for you to read. they were like a language only you were fluent in, like you could have a whole conversation without even speaking.

now, all they said was pain. 

“you’re the only thing making things more difficult, gray.” you hated the way your voice trembled. 

low blow after low blow. but he deserved it. 

all those nights you’d spent together? he knew you inside and out, what hurts you, what doesn’t, and exactly how you love.

he knew all of that, and he still thought that leaving because things were difficult was going to be the right thing.

this couldn’t be real.

“look at us, don’t you see it?” he motioned between the two of you, like whatever was happening was a tangible thing he could see. “we’re fighting like this, and we’re not even together. we’re going to ruin each other.”

ruin each other? is that what he thought? god knows how many years of friendship, a pretty perfect friendship too, and he thought making something official would lead to you ruining each other? 

you weren’t fighting with him, you were trying to fight for him. for the chance of you actually being something more. 

“we can’t do this.” his voice felt so detached, but his eyes looked so hurt at the same time. he didn’t getto feel hurt, not when it was his fault. “we’ll just end up hurting eachother, and i don’t want to hurt you.”

you nodded silently, willing your tears back. every inch of you you wanted to scream in his face, “you already have! you coward.”

he was doing nothing but hurt you these past few days.

instead, you nodded, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the tears at bay.

“yeah,” you said, pressing your lips together as you nodded again. “alright. i get it. that’s it then?”

grayson’s eyes narrowed for a split second like he was confused. 

was he surprised? did he think you were going to hang on longer? because you weren’t. you’d spent far too much energy on him. you always saw him as someone worth spending you time on, someone worth trying to figure out, someone you wanted to know.

but you understood now: he didn’t want you to figure him out because he didn’t even know who he was himself. he was scared. but that wasn’t an excuse; you were terrified, and you still were. 

love had always been your fatal flaw, the one thing you were unsure of, but you were willing to dive in head first because it was grayson. 

he just didn’t feel as deeply though. 

you didn’t want to figure him out, and you didn’t want to know anything about him anymore. 

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he looked at you, and for a moment, his mask slipped. his eyes—those stupid, stupid eyes— almost made you want to feel sorry for him. he looked vulnerable, but you were too angry to let it affect you this time.

“i… yes.” grayson finally said, sounding unsure of himself for once in his life. “i suppose that’s it.”

“good,” you nodded as your crossed your arms, “because i don’t want to hear what you have to say ever again.“ 

he reached his hands out but quickly let his arms fall back, curling his fingers into a fist. 

he looked at you like he didn’t know what to say, his mouth opening and closing before he finally settled on just staying silent.

you still felt like there was a million unspoken words that needed to be said, but you turned and walked away. 

for once, you didn’t wait to see if he’d try again.

you willed your feet to move and not think about how he looked behind you, because if you did, even for a second, you had a feeling you’d turn right back. 

a/n: guys it gets better i swear they’ll be happier than ever soon 🙏 taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable

@anintellectualintellectual @lovethornes @maybxlle @sheisntyou @emelia07

 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23 @imaseabear 

@clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @thelov3lybookworm @graysw1fe @lanterns-and-daydreams 

@hermesenthusiast @elysianwayy77 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @apollosmusee

[86espresso]

he’s watching | jh86

warnings ; blood, knife play, fear play, mentions of murder, oral (f), voyerism but its a ghost that isn’t there?, abandoned house, ghostface/hannibal mask?, bf!jack x afab!reader,”, hide and seek :), and other freakish shit I had no idea I was lowkey attracted to. not proofread.

wc; 2.2k

a/n ; I started this during october and lost the motivation so have this in late november! I have no explanation, it is exactly what it looks like. if this is something you’re not into pleasee don’t read, this is twisted and nasty bc that’s how I function <3 once again, read at your own risk. with that, insane!jack can terrorize me anyyydayyy.

If it was anyone else stalking you down the halls of an abandoned house, with a legitimate knife and a scary mask, you would’ve ran out of the place like your ass was on fire.

However, it was only Jack. Your boyfriend.

You could tell something different in his low chuckles when he came closer to wherever you were hiding, the playful game of cat and mouse you had started turning into something more menacing in the dark rooms and hallways of the house.

The two of you were lovesick for all horror stories and urban legends, and you knew of the story of the haunted house at the end of the street, so you decided to venture there together to get away from the parties. Still clad in your Halloween costumes.

It was a slutty Halloween party, so you wore a tight fitting black top that showed more than it should and a black mini skirt. You had fake blood all over your cleavage, neck, and one single dried drop down the side of your temple. You matched with Jack’s muscle tee and black sweats, his obscured version of a ghostface-hannibal mask, and knife.

And now, Jack was doing everything in his power to ensure that your heart stayed thumping hard against your ribcage, your palms were sweaty, that you were genuinely scared before you use the code word for stopping any terrifying prank either of you were pulling on each other. You’ve never really said it before because neither of you were that easy to scare, and you didn’t take it that far.

For the record, Jack did have you feeling all of those things, not because you were scared, but because you were thrilled. Though, you’d have to admit, it was the thought of being so terrified that you liked it that really had your chest heaving with anticipation.

You wanted to know what the man in the mask could do. How he would use his knife.

“Jack?” You called out meekly, stepping carefully into the master bedroom, that had nothing but moonlight illuminating it. Your voice may be weak, but you were feeling the opposite inside, your heart burning with the desire to feel that knife against your throat at least once, to see nothing but Jack’s hooded eyes as he pressed hard enough to draw blood but not enough to really hurt you.

You knew he was near this area because you heard him here; any logical person would have turned right back but you ran towards the bullets.

You were about five steps into the bedroom when it slammed shut right behind you.

Again, any normal and sane person would’ve screamed, whipped around, ran—but you stayed still, breathing hard, a slow smirk spreading on your face. You didn’t turn around, you didn’t have to.

His shadow joined yours, standing right behind you and his heat radiated onto you, giving you much needed warmth to your bare shoulders and legs.

“Found you, doll.” He drawled, moving closer. You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I wasn’t hiding.” You say as his chest lightly touches your shoulders, his hand barely ghosting over your waist before he grips it properly.

His palm is wet.

“Jack—”

“Blood.”

You gulp. “Whose?”

“Mine.”

You head starts spinning, as if he drew your blood. You feel a spark of concern, leaning back into him, trying to wordlessly communicate it.

“S’all good, doll.” He softens his voice slightly, leaning into you.

You stiffen up again, standing straight, falling back into ‘character’ instantly.

This time, his other arm snakes around your waist, you see the glint of the knife before it lays flat against your stomach. It’s like that for a moment before Jack abruptly turns you around.

“All that chasing—you liked that, hm?”

His bloody hand stays on your waist while the other traces the blunt edge of the knife over your breasts. The mask is pretty scary, but his raspy voice and cold blue eyes work more for you. The tip of the knife just barely touches the underside of your chin; if you nod, it would pierce your skin. The thought sent a rush of heat throughout your body, and you nod carefully, the blade pinching your chin. It wasn’t enough to draw blood, but Jack understood that’s what you wanted, you could see the smile reaching his eyes as he pushes the knife up just a bit. A wave of heat mixed with pain rushes over you as you feel the smallest trickle of blood run down your neck and mix with the fake blood on your tits.

Jack’s chest shakes with a small laugh. You’re sure you could drown in your arousal.

“Fuck, y’liked that too? What am I going to do with you?”

Before you could answer, he removed the knife and lifted his mask, putting the tip of it on his tongue and licking it clean. You let out a whimper at the action, unable to resist the burning desire in your lower stomach.

“Careful, baby,” he tutts, shaking his head slightly, tracing the blunt end down to the front of your mini skirt, “he could’ve heard you.”

‘He’ was the man who owned the house in the 19th century. ‘He’ murdered the intruder that came into his house and killed his wife. ‘He’ then turned the knife on himself out of sorrow.

Jack knew you admired that man’s story.

Your cheeks flush at the thought of a fucking ghost watching what Jack was about to do to you.

Jack’s bloody hand touched the blood on your chin, the two combining in his thumb. He puts his thumb in your bottom lip, silently demanding you to suck, and you do.

Jack huffs, feeling your tongue swirl around his thumb with so much eagerness as he swiftly tears your mini skirt with the knife, causing you to let go of his thumb when you gasped. The skirt hit the floor.

You weren’t wearing anything underneath the it, the coolness of the night making you shiver as Jack’s eyes drop to your lower half.

You intentionally wore nothing underneath your top and skirt, hoping that Jack would make quick work of fucking you when the two of you got home. Maybe get some roleplay in between to thrill you a little.

But this was way, way more than you hoped for and you could never complain. The hottest man you knew had full access to your body and he had a knife. You were at his mercy completely.

Jack softly kicks near your heal to push your legs further apart before the blunt edge traces up your inner thigh, the coolness of the knife making you shake slightly.

“Jack.”

Jack ignores your pathetic whimper and puts the blunt edge of the knife directly between your folds. He could see your thighs glistening and he was delighted to learn how turned on you were.

Your jaw drops and your nails dig into his muscular forearm. “Shit, J—”

“Not another sound, doll. Unless you’re screaming.” In fear.

He moves the knife deliciously against your clit, spreading your slickness through your pussy. His other (bloody) hand works up your waist and toys with the hem of your shirt.

You hear a floorboard creak in the hallway and still.

“Hm, y’hear that too, doll? Sounded like someone was right outside the door.”

Your eyes become teary as you bit down on your lip. Hard enough to taste the metallic flavor of blood. Something flashed in Jack’s eyes and he pulls the mask off.

His knifed hand doesn’t pause its movements while his other grabbed the back of your neck, pulling your mouth roughly against his. His lips meet yours in a tangle of tongues and harsh sucking to where your lip was bleeding.

You didn’t know his thing for blood was that strong.

He pulls away and removes the knife as well. He looks directly at you with his icy blue eyes and sticks his tongue out, laying it flat against the blunt end and licking your arousal clean. He hums in satisfaction.

“Not enough,” he says once the knife is clean. Your heart was pounding with desire and fear, waiting for his next move. “I’m gonna eat you,” he pauses and smirks, “out, of course.”

Making cannabalistic implications? He’s truly out of it.

You wait for his next move patiently, the thought of doing such a filthy thing in the one place people stay away from already making the desire in your stomach deepen.

To your surprise, he turns you around, your back now facing the slightly ajar door (didn’t Jack slam it shut?) and Jack’s back now facing the wall. He instructs you to lie down on the floor, and you prop yourself up with your elbows, knees spread and bent. Jack lies down in front of you on his stomach, hooking your legs over his shoulders and ghosting his lips up your thigh.

He could sense your confusion at the position. You knew that he knew that he could’ve just pushed you back a few steps, gotten on his knee, and eaten you out against the wall.

“Wanted your back facing the door,” he frees one of his hands to push the hair away from his face, “and, I wanted you lying down so when he walks in, he has a proper view.”

You can hardly believe the words left his mouth before he latched his lips onto your cunt, sucking and licking through your folds, trying to get as deep as he could. He could feel the moan building through your chest, so before you actually could, he grabs the knife from next to him and put it half an inch away from the spot he pierced earlier.

“What did I say?”

“Not a sound.” You echo his words from before and refrain from whimpering at the cold, almost dead look in his eyes. It’s like something possessed him.

He hums before licking a stripe through your folds again, his eyes not moving away from yours. Partially because he wanted to keep you intimidated and partially because the knife was still under your chin and he would rather die than risk a wrong movement.

“He’s watching us, baby.” You feel Jack’s smirk before you register his words. You look into his eyes for a plot second before he sucked your clit so harshly, you threw your head back to stop the moan clawing up your throat.

The mere thought of that ghost watching while Jack was buried deep between your legs caused the pool of warmth in your lower stomach increase.

You don’t know if it had been hours or seconds since Jack was alternating between giving attention to your clit and folds, how long Jack had been talking through it, heavy breathing while telling you about the ‘man’s every move. You don’t know exactly how out of it you’d been, but you look down to see your shirt ripped neatly down the middle, your tits hanging out and nipples hardening in the cool air, that you didn’t know when Jack even pulled away from you. The warmth of his hands on you never left.

He did it.

Subconsciously, you knew he didn’t do it, but the thought brought you closer regardless.

“He’s right behind you, doll.”

Your mouth parts in a silent whine and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your elbows were sore from the position, so you lay fully down, tangling your fingers through Jack’s messy hair as him and his words nearly tip you over the edge. The last thing you see is his eyes flashing as he eagerly licks and sucks your clit, as if he really saw someone standing behind you. Your back arches off the floor and it takes everything within you not to let out the high-pitched moan you were holding in.

You don’t know if it was some arousal induced hallucination but you swore you saw a figure when you threw your head back while Jack worked through your orgasm, but you knew it was what really tipped you over. Jack groans into you, kissing your inner thighs before pulling away.

He was amused, admiring your cloudy eyes and dazed expression. He hasn’t even gotten to fucking you yet.

He pulled off the now damaged top off of you and tapped your cheek. “Not done with you yet, baby. Hands and knees.”

He leaned down and quickly kissed you, a stark contrast to earlier. “Don’t need t’stay quiet this time.”

The bargain was enough for you to roll on your front, entirely bare in front of him now. You hadn’t noticed the dirty floor length mirror next to the door (that was now halfway open) earlier.

Jack met your eyes in the mirror, making quick work of his sweats and boxers, using his other hand to wrap around your neck, keeping you upright. He lets go of your neck and instead form hooks his thick arm around your chest, the blood on your tits coming onto his arm.

Another burst of wind rocks the house, floorboards creaking and you were sure you heard another door slam shut. You look up into Jack’s eyes and mirror his smirk.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I need to see more content of Color matching Killer's freak, and not just in terms of suggestive themes.

Obviously he's not direct or loud about it, obviously it's not easy reading that off of a person like him, but I imagine Killer would pick up early that Color's a bit of a freak cause why the hell else would he be trying to help him so much? Freak recognizes freak. Freakception. It's just kind freak on fire vs knife freak, that's what this has become.

Color is the subtle kind of freak. There is always a 50/50 chance that if Killer's got an urge, Color's gonna indulge it and act like he always does in the process. He is a "go with the flow" kind of guy on the surface until he decides to rip off that facade. His friends already know how freakish he is to a certain extent but it's people like Killer, Epic, and Delta that truly do vibe with it in their own ways.

Killer would want more of it and look for ways to encourage Color's "dark side", Delta would compete with it, and Epic would think of any punchline to add to how hilarious he finds it.

This is a group of equally as unhinged men.

The signs of Color's freak would be evident to Killer long before he decides to take up Color's offer in leaving Nightmare behind. He would pick up those signs and use them against him, specifically during arguments or fights where Killer accuses him of having crude ulterior motives.

And Color giving him little to no reactions on that basis would not only infuriate Killer but also fascinate him even more than he already was. Cause he can't always tell whether or not a comment set something off in Color's mind, or if there really was nnothing.

And then as time continues to pass, that is when Killer's observations start to make sense. He and Color are a lot more alike than he previously thought, well beyond the "we both used to be Sans and got fucked over by the same stupid kid" commonality.

They both have deeply-rooted trauma from two of the same fucking child. While Color was eventually provided with the resources to start healing, Killer was routinely denied those resources.

Perhaps Color has one of those warped bouts of hyena-like laughter too, except while Killer has it casually, it's a red flag coming from Color as it's indicative of a panic attack, complete breakdown, or weak attempt at stress relief following either of those things.

They both struggle at showing vulnerability because of their trauma. Killer hides that in multiple shitty ways while Color has had several years of therapy and a solid support system and because of that developed a stable "fake it till you make it" mask for only the worst case scenarios where he can't catch a break soon enough. (He's had to use that mask A LOT in dealing with Killer before he left Nightmare)

Think Stage 3 doesn't have enough reasons to regard Color as a source of safety? They've both got distinct animalistic traits and behaviors, and Color dedicated the patience and time to let Stage 3 learn that at its own pace. Stage 3 finds a mutual understanding with Color that it can't with anyone else BECAUSE of the effort and comfort Color provided.

And what about the fact that they've both lost their sense of identity and since gaining freedom had to gradually make a new one with the shards they managed to salvage? They both aim to keep some aspects of "Sans", but can never truly be "Sans" again. They've both grown past the point of ever being the exact same as they were decades, perhaps hundreds of years before.

In various ways both before and after escaping their traumas, they are both in constant physical, mental, and emotional pain. Some conditions simply have no cure, no medication to soothe their symptoms.

They are so similar yet so different. So of course Color would match Killer's freak. Under calm and casual circumstances he'd agree with (Stage 2) Killer's accusation of him being a masochist and Killer would be caught off guard because he was aiming to make Color angry. But instead Color gives him that simple admission with no strings attached.

Like golly gee fuck, Killer, it's almost like he has to be one in order to cope with the amount of agony he deals with every day. Speak for yourself, motherfucker.

Unhinged freaky old men is where it’s at.

People look at the chromatic crew and think Color’s the odd one out, that he’s the hinged one, but definitely not.

Bro probably finds it comforting and reassuring when killer licks away his tears 💀. Mans would be so willing to indulge nearly anything killer wants to try or do, and he’d likely enjoy most of it.

Need more of Color matching Killer’s freak and rolling with it. Wonder if Color ever surprises Killer sometimes.

[iamcautiouslyoptimistic]

WRITING MORE THOUGHTS RAAAHHHH

He tended to be gruff, practically ordering you around as you got used to their little group. It was a far cry from the man who’d found you alone, when his eyes had softened at the way you’d asked for his help and he’d responded in a low rumble that eased the fear that had settled into your very bones, promising you’d be safe and he’d get you home.

You tried not to take things too personally. They were soldiers after all; they worked together like a well-oiled machine, each with their own unique role. You were merely a random part thrown into their midst, clattering about with no real purpose. They were happy to protect you but they’d made it clear that you were to stay out of their way, especially when danger came knocking.

Soap and Gaz were the kindest. They’d made it their mission to see you laugh and smile, helping you settle into this new life. You’d play games, tell jokes, recite stories. You’d watch Gaz snip at Soap about something stupid, coming up with some clever remark that made both you and the Scotsman snicker. That little bit of normalcy helped you feel like you actually had a place among them.

Ghost was… distant. He didn’t talk much and when he did, he tended to speak in clipped statements that made you shy away. However, he’d warmed up to you a bit after hearing you laugh at some dumb joke he was telling Soap, something about fish driving a tank. Now you’d ask him for a new one each day and he was always happy to oblige. He just never took off that skull mask of his. No one seemed bothered by it so you tried not to be either.

Price was a bit more difficult for you to discern. He obviously cared about this strange little family of his but you didn’t know how you fit into it. A part of you, however small, hoped you might be something different to him but you tried not to dwell on such a thought too long. There were more important things to worry about.

But he was always the one to ask if you were eating and sleeping enough. He’d settle a blanket or coat around your shoulders whenever he caught you shivering. He’d plop his hat on your head whenever you squinted in the sun. He’d even scooped you up in his arms and carried you to bed one night when you’d fallen asleep next to the fire. You felt safe with him.

It wasn’t until you stared Death in the face did you let everything you felt come to the surface…

“Easy, sweetheart. You’re alright,” Price soothes as he approaches you, a hand outstretched toward the metal pipe you cling to. You’re panting, eyes wide and unseeing as you stare at the corpse on the floor. It’s not until Price’s hand settles on your shoulder do you look up.

Blood is splattered across your skin and Price grimaces at the sight. He lifts his hand to wipe it away with a gentle thumb, tugging the pipe from your grip and setting it aside.

“You okay?” he asks softly. Hearing his voice seems to break something in you as tears suddenly well in your eyes and overflow onto your cheeks. You let out a sob, the sound raw and broken.

Your face finds refuge against his shoulder, arms wrapping tightly about his torso. Price pulls you close and lets himself act as your support.

“Oh, sweetheart.” It was a murmur, barely heard over your cries as you clutch at the fabric of his coat. You had shattered, unable to stand the weight of the shit the world kept throwing at you. He couldn’t blame you.

“I didn’t want to hurt him,” you sob, voice muffled by his vest. “But he wouldn’t stop and I had to—“

“I know,” Price soothes and strokes the back of your head. “You did what you had to.”

You whimper, eyes squeezing shut. “Doesn’t make it feel any better.”

The arm he’d settled around your waist tightens. “No, it doesn’t,” he agrees. That’s all he knew how to say and all that could be said. He was used to offering his advice to soldiers who had lost sight of their path, but you… You’re not a soldier so to watch you bear a weight not meant to be yours breaks his heart.

Leaning back, Price tilts your face up so he can get a proper look at you. Your skin is dirtied with salty tears dampening your cheeks. You try to escape his grip, embarrassed by the state you’re in, but he holds you fast. He wipes at the blood and tears that stain your skin, easing into a gentleness he’s not used to enacting.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he murmurs. “You shouldn’t have had to face that alone.”

You sniffle, shoulders lifting in a half-hearted shrug. “Couldn’t be helped. At least I know I can defend myself.”

Price glances down at the body, noting its caved-in head and chest. “That you can,” he mumbles. “You’ve got some fight in you.”

You find a small bit of comfort in that, however morbid it may be.

Someone’s probably already done this but I can’t stop thinking about it: Fallout or Last of Us AU with the MW boys.

I’ve been in a Price mood lately and I can’t stop thinking about him as a Joel Miller type, stubborn and hardened but hiding a softness that you get to see upon meeting him for the first time.

You’re lost, desperately trying to keep yourself alive as you search for the surviving members of your family. It isn’t until you meet the Captain that you feel hopeful again. He’s experienced in ways that you aren’t and he can see the desperation on your face as you tell him of your plight. You’re exhausted, unable to sleep properly because of how on edge you’ve been, and you don’t want to be alone anymore so he leads you back to his camp, where you meet the others.

They’re all frightening in their own right but being around other people, especially soldiers who know how to survive in these kinds of life-or-death situations, puts you at ease for the first time since the world ended. You fall asleep in mere minutes that night under the watchful gaze of Price, who promises to get you home safely. Gaz hasn’t seen that look in his captain’s eyes for a long while and it makes him smile.

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world @thedevillovesflowers @alypink @deadbranch @mango-parfait feel free to add more ideas, I’d love to hear ideas from anyone since this is a very small snippet lol, might do more with this at some point

[bluecapsicum]

hi Blue! I am absolutely IN LOVE with the "Reports From Unknown Places" series. If you don't mind me asking, how did you learn to draw the clouds and the sky so well? I've always found the prospect very daunting, but you draw them in a way that simply amazing! Do you have any tips for brushes/practice?

Hello!

Thank you so much for the message, and your kind words! I'm so glad you enjoy Reports.

I completely understand how one might find drawing the sky daunting. I still regularly give myself headaches when working on reports. Everyone has their own issues when it comes to drawing, though.

For instance, this might sound a bit absurd, but one of my main issues as an illustrator is that I don't think well in 3D, and I ended up realising that I was unconsciously thinking about the sky as a flat image. When I started drawing clouds as objects moving in space, everything became a little easier.

(This is the kind of epiphany that I had. Truly a revolution in my mind. Now I can totally rotate clouds in my brain.)

This all came about as I kept on drawing more and more, sure, but the most important part really was watching clouds for myself, as much as possible, and to try and notice things every time. It's mostly silly stuff, especially at first, like oh yeah, I guess clouds produce shadows on other clouds too. Wow! Or, huh, this cloud doesn't have the same density throughout, so the light scatters differently inside of it.

Because it's all fundamentally physics, it ended up sounding incredibly simple once I had noticed it. Of course! It's all logical! I had just never connected the dots before I saw it in person.

So I also bought some books, and watched videos (all those airplane videos are fantastic), read websites, looked at pictures. Everything was helpful in one way or another. Listen, I knew about cirrus and cumulonimbus and that was pretty much it, at first. So looking at diagrams about how high cirrus are in comparison to stratocumulus, for instance, was a revelation. Looking at the life cycle of cumulonimbus explained so much for me.

These are studies I did on the side of Reports, in November 2020, then April 2021, and the third one in September 2023:

I think I'm able to look at these and tell that I got progressively more confident because I understood what I was drawing a lot better.

If I had to say, a few concrete things I learned that work for me is being bold, not to be afraid of contrast and sharp edges, and to treat light as an actor of its own. I can't find it right now, but I once read a quote by (I think!) Cezanne that went something like "I'm not painting the mountain, I'm painting the air between me and the mountain". I think it's the most helpful thing I've ever heard for painting and drawing. It's obviously especially relevant here. The air changes everything.

Anyway, I could go for ages more, I'm totally rambling, so I'll just leave a few references I find helpful:

The International Cloud Atlas

The Cloud Appreciation Society

What's This Cloud

In the end it's just fun, and good for the soul, to spend quality time with clouds, so nothing is ever lost!

[kookiewithluv]

TEASER

• TITLE: Under The Blue Sky (Tangled In Love And Destiny Series)

• PAIRING: CEO!Yoongi x Accountant!Reader

• GENRE: Romance, Grumpy X sunshine, CEO au, fluff (?), love at first sight

• WORD COUNT: 5k+

• TRIGGER WARNING: This story explores themes of love at first sight, identity concealment, and the clash of personalities between two contrasting characters. It delves into the complexities of their budding relationship as they navigate misunderstandings and attraction. The narrative includes mature content, including explicit scenes and sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

• SUMMARY: Yoongi, the grumpy CEO, never believed in love at first sight—until he saw you on a rainy street. He kept his identity hidden, but when you moves in next door, things start to get complicated. Your sunshine personality clashes beneath the surface, sparks fly. Can your sunshine essence melt his cold heart, or will both of your differences will drive you apart?

• a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv . The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

a/n: I'm not tagging anyone here since it’s just a little teaser, but don’t worry if you’re on the taglist—I’ll definitely tag you when UBS1 is ready to go (which shouldn’t take too long… hopefully 🙈). Thanks for being patient with me, you’re the best!

MASTERLIST

You slouched back on your couch, the exhaustion from yesterday’s move still weighing on your bones, but there was a sense of satisfaction that kept you from fully collapsing. Your eyes swept over the apartment—every box was finally unpacked, every corner now arranged to your liking. As tiring as it had been, the sight of your new home made it all feel worth it. You let out a long, relieved breath and let your head fall back against the couch, closing your eyes. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of your lips. The scent of room freshener—lilies and jasmine—clung to the air, soothing your senses as the cool breeze from the balcony slipped through the open door, brushing against your bare arms. A shiver danced down your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps, but it only made you smile more, the chill somehow comforting.

It was strange, though, sitting here in this quiet space, feeling the weight of everything that had brought you back to Seoul after so many years. The city had a familiar coldness to it, something that you had once known and yet felt so distant now. Eight years in Busan, away from the hustle and memories of this place, and now you were back. It all felt like a dream, an impossible twist in the story of your life. But life was nothing if not unexpected. You had learned that lesson early—how everything could change in an instant, how things could shift and crumble, and how the paths you thought you were meant to take often led you somewhere completely different.

A bitter chuckle escaped your lips, but it was hollow. The memories you carried with you felt heavy, like weights tied to your chest, and the loneliness that had crept into your life felt more pronounced now that you were here, in this new chapter. It was funny, you thought—how at one point, your life had been full. Full of people, of laughter, of noise. And then, somewhere along the way, you lost that. You lost them. You lost pieces of yourself too, chasing after things you thought you wanted, only to find that when you caught them, they weren’t what you needed. And those things you lost, those connections, those moments... you would never get them back. Only regrets remained, settling into the quiet corners of your mind.

But that was life, right? You had so many regrets, so many things you wished you had done differently, but you were still here, still smiling, still breathing. Because it was life. And life didn’t care if you understood it or not. You had learned that much over the years.

A soft, rueful sigh left your lips, your eyes fluttering open as you stared at the ceiling. A memory crossed your mind, one that had stayed with you: "It's all in your head. Control it before it controls you." A piece of advice from someone who meant well, but who could never understand what it felt like to be stuck in the chaos of your own thoughts. Young you had thought it was profound. Wise. But now, now you understood it in a way that had nothing to do with wisdom. It was a struggle. The battle between your mind and your emotions, between wanting to control it all and knowing that you couldn’t.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, its hands creeping closer to eight. Then, a sudden ding-dong of the doorbell sliced through the silence, jolting you from your thoughts. You blinked, disoriented, a frown pulling at your brows. “Who could it be...?” The words escaped your lips in a whisper, the confusion lingering as you glanced at your phone, only to toss it back onto the couch, your focus now entirely on the door.

You got to your feet, the motion slow, almost hesitant, as if your body hadn’t fully caught up to the change in pace. With deliberate steps, you made your way toward the door. Standing before the door, you paused for just a second, your hand hovering over the handle before you unlocked it. Just enough to peek your head out.

And there, standing on the other side, was a sight that left your heart skipping a beat. A man, impeccably dressed in a tuxedo, his hair styled with effortless precision. A stray lock fell across his forehead.

He looked... familiar. But not in the way you could place him, more in a way that tugged at the edges of your memory, like a faint echo of something. You frowned slightly, brows furrowing as you tried to remember where you’d seen him before. But you couldn’t quite grasp it. How could you forget a face like that?

He was stunning—his features sharp yet gentle, his lips full and soft. There was a youthful roundness to his face that made him look so effortlessly cute, and something about his presence made your chest tighten. His smile—oh, that smile—was a slow, knowing curve of his lips, and suddenly, you felt the urge to reach out, to pinch his cheeks, as ridiculous as that thought was. It was as if his smile held the power to disarm you completely, leaving your heart fluttering like it was caught in a soft breeze.

You stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to say or do, just staring up at him as your stomach twisted into knots.

"Hi!" he whispered, his voice soft. He gave a small, playful bow, his movements smooth. His eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and amusement, and his lips curled into a smile that was warm, disarming.

You blinked, still taken aback, and pulled the door open fully, your own response a little stiff as you bowed your head in return. Your hands hung by your sides, awkward, unsure of what to do next. You gave a small nod, the movement barely noticeable. It was more instinct than anything else.

"You live here?" he asked, his words filled with a strange mixture of confidence and confusion. It wasn’t the kind of confusion that showed doubt, but more like he was piecing something together in his mind. It was almost like a game to him, the way his brows furrowed playfully.

You nodded again, not trusting your voice just yet. His gaze was intense, but in a way that made you want to stay just a moment longer. His smile widened, slow and deliberate, like he was letting it spread across his face just for you to see.

"You need something?" You finally managed, your words polite, but your posture tense. It was hard not to be wary. Men, you thought. You knew better. They were nothing but trouble, a lesson you had learned the hardest way. The memories of it still lingered in your chest like an old bruise.

He tilted his head slightly, the smile never faltering. "Oh! Actually, you must have ordered food, right?" His voice was light, almost playful, yet his words felt oddly innocent. He didn’t seem like a creep, nor did he look like a delivery guy. He looked... out of place in a way that didn’t sit right with you.

You nodded, still unsure of how this was going to play out. You gave him another once-over, a little more deliberate this time. From head to toe, he was wrapped in luxury—designer clothes that probably cost more than your rent. You couldn’t even name half the brands, but you could tell from the sharp cut of his suit and the way he carried himself that he wasn’t some lowly delivery guy.

There was no way. No way in hell. Not a chance. He couldn’t be. Not in a billion years.

"And?" You prompted, still trying to piece together what was happening.

"Oh! Yeah. Yeah," he started, his words tumbling out quickly, almost like he couldn’t catch his breath. "Actually, the delivery guy dropped your order at my friend’s place. I was about to open it, but fortunately, I checked the bill attach to it and saw the address." He handed you the paper bag with a slight flick of his wrist.

You were so distracted by his presence, by the way his smile tugged at his lips and the gleam in his eyes, that you didn’t even notice the bag in his hand at first. You stood there, your fingers instinctively clutching the handle of the bag. A sudden rush of awareness hit you, and you looked back up at him, a sense of confusion swirling in your chest.

"Thank you...," you muttered, still trying to gather your thoughts, but your words trailed off when he interrupted, a touch of offense in his tone.

"Jimin," he corrected quickly, his brow furrowing slightly, a blush creeping up his neck. His lips curled into a playful, almost teasing smile, as though he found the whole situation amusing. "Jimin Park.”

The name hit you like a cold splash of water. Your eyes widened in shock as recognition struck you hard. Jimin Park. Of course. How could you not have known? He was everywhere—the notorious, high-profile director of Jeon Enterprises, always plastered across the media. Whether it was for business deals, lavish parties, or rumors about his playboy lifestyle, he was a constant figure in the spotlight.

You straightened up, an automatic sign of respect. "Thank you, Mr. Park." The words felt strange coming from your lips, like they didn’t quite belong to you. It was hard to act casual in front of someone so... big—someone you had only ever seen in the headlines.

Jimin's gaze softened, but there was still a glint of amusement in his eyes. He seemed to enjoy the moment.

"No. Please, call me Jimin," he said, his voice shifting to a softer, almost shy tone.

You raised an eyebrow, unsure how to respond, but you nodded slowly. "Okay, Jimin," you said, testing the name on your tongue. It felt casual, and for some reason, that made it all the more strange.

"Your the new tenant, right?" His voice practically bubbled with excitement, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The way he was looking at you—too keen, too interested—made your skin prickle with unease. You felt your heart beat a little faster. His attention was...too much, too sudden.

"Yes...?" you replied, the uncertainty in your voice betraying the suspicion building in your chest.

"Wow! That's... something," he laughed, his grin widening, but there was a hint of something in his eyes. You weren’t sure if it was curiosity or mischief, but it made the hairs on your neck stand up.

"What you mean?" you asked, tilting your head slightly, trying to make sense of his words.

"Nothing, really! It’s just that this flat has been vacant for years now." Jimin's tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper. He seemed to be enjoying the effect his words had on you.

Your brow furrowed. "Why? It’s a good one. It even has a pretty view from the balcony," you said, trying to defend your decision. The apartment was beautiful, a perfect little corner in the city. You couldn't understand why someone would leave it empty for so long.

Jimin’s smile faltered, and his eyes dropped for a moment as if he was weighing his next words carefully. Then, his gaze flicked back up to meet yours, a hint of something dark flickering behind his grin. "No, you got it all wrong," he said, voice lowering just a bit. "Actually, it was instructed not to let anyone stay here. So...”

The words hit you like a cold shock, a wave of disbelief crashing over you. You blinked, mouth dry, unable to fully process what he was saying. "What?" The word came out too sharp, too confused. "Why would they do that?”

He shrugged casually, but the tension in his shoulders gave away that this was something more serious. "How would I know? I just do." The casualness didn’t match the weight of his words, and it made your stomach churn. Was he just trying to mess with you? Or was there something more? His easy smile didn’t help ease the growing knot in your chest.

You narrowed your eyes at him, your lips pressing into a tight line. "How do you know?" you asked, your voice low. Your gaze locked onto his, silently daring him to give you some ridiculous explanation.

He leaned in slightly, his smile not faltering, but there was something else now—a slight glint of pride, maybe? "What do you mean? I’m friends with the person who instructed it.”

You scoffed, disbelief dancing in your eyes as you raised an eyebrow. "Who is he?”

"Who else, woman. Min Yoongi, the CEO of Min Corporation.The owner of this freaking building.”

Your breath hitched. Now this conversation was spiraling into territory you hadn’t expected. A nervous laugh bubbled up in your throat, but you swallowed it down quickly. The name Min Yoongi struck you like a bolt. The CEO of one of the most powerful corporations in the country? This was getting ridiculous.

You knew about Min Yoongi. Everyone did. He wasn’t just a person; he was a name, a reputation. No one ever really saw him, though. He stayed out of the spotlight, almost like a ghost. Starting your new job at Min Corporations, it only made sense to know a little about the CEO. Not that you’d gone digging or anything—there wasn’t much to find. He was private, almost obsessively so.

Despite your gut telling you to shut the door and walk away, you stayed rooted to the spot. Your mind screamed for you to let go, but your curiosity was louder. Tomorrow would be your first day at Min Corporation, and you were curious, even though you shouldn't. You could almost taste curiosity in the back of your tongue.

"Why?" you asked before you could stop yourself, the words slipping out before you could think. Shit, you cursed internally. You never knew when to keep quiet.

Jimin’s eyes sparkled with... Something, you couldn't quite place, his lips curving into a grin. "I don’t know," he said, tilting his head slightly, his voice suddenly softer, more gentle. "But I asked him to shift here once, and he told me he loathes noise... and I’m noisy." He chuckled at the last part, his fingers twitching at his side, almost like he was waiting for your response. "Am I?"

You bit back a smile, the words "Yeah, you do seem noisy" on the tip of your tongue, but you swallowed them. He was fun to talk to, and you couldn’t deny it. It had been a while since someone had made you laugh, and it was oddly comforting.

"Jimin-ah" Before you could respond, a deep, calm voice cut through the air, and you froze mid-thought. Jimin’s smile faltered slightly as he turned to face the source of the voice. You followed his gaze, and when your eyes met the man standing at the end of the hall, your breath hitched.

"I swear," Jimin continued, shaking his head as if he was reminiscing about something. "That guy has serious issues. You need to be careful around him."

It’s him.

"Suga, hyung," Jimin greeted, his voice soft, almost in reverence. Suga. The name rolled through your mind, oddly familiar yet strangely comforting, like something you’d always liked without realizing it, and you recognized him instantly. The man standing there was none other than the person who had helped you two days ago—when you were a mess, crying in the rain at that bus stop.

You swallowed hard, your heartbeat picking up speed. It felt like fate had thrown this moment at you, but it wasn’t without its sting. You remembered every second of that breakdown. The humiliation of crying on a street corner, in front of a stranger, no less. And yet, there he was again, but this time, he seemed... Different.

Why wasn’t he looking at you?

Your stomach twisted in discomfort. It wasn’t like you expected him to remember you, but he—of all people—had been there when you were falling apart, and yet, his gaze didn’t meet yours.

It had only been two days.

His attention was fully on Jimin, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. His eyes narrowed slightly, lips pressing into a firm line. “I told you to wait for me, Jimin-ah,” he said, his voice low and controlled, but there was a trace of irritation under the surface.

Jimin simply waved it off with a dismissive gesture, clearly unbothered. “I was. You’re late,” he said with an air of nonchalance, but his expression shifted to something as he added, “And why are you scolding me?”

Yoongi’s jaw tightened, his fingers tapping against the side of his leg, as though trying to hold his patience. "I told you to wait." His eyes flicked briefly toward you, but quickly away, as if it was an afterthought. The tension in his shoulders, however, told you something more. Anxiety? Was he anxious about something? Was he… waiting for something?

Jimin, still unfazed, pointed to the paper bag with a lazy grin. “I was just handing her this,” he said casually, nodding toward you. “Somebody delivered it at your place, hyung.”

Yoongi didn’t say a word after that. He simply nodded, a sharp, cold motion, before he turned on his heel, starting to drag Jimin toward the apartment next to yours. The air around you felt tense, heavy, almost suffocating. You were still standing there, unable to process the coldness that had overtaken him.

But before they could get too far, Jimin stopped, yanking his arm away from Yoongi with an exaggerated grunt. He turned back to you, flashing that same teasingly sweet smile. “It’s him," Jimin said, a playful glint in his eyes. "Your neighbour and the C—”

“I know him,” you interrupted quickly, your words tumbling out almost desperately.

But Jimin’s eyes widened, surprise crossing his face for just a fraction of a second before he turned to look at Yoongi with a slow, subtle smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Yoongi, however, was already shaking his head, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes not meeting yours. His voice, when it came, was sharp and final, the words cutting through the air like ice. “No,” he said, the simple word leaving no room for any further discussion.

Your heart skipped a beat at his tone. You hadn’t expected it—this abrupt, dismissive coldness. What happened to the guy who helped me? The memory of him offering you his coat, in that rainy street, his voice so soft and understanding, felt like a distant dream now. This Yoongi was nothing like the one you had met two days ago.

You took a step forward, wanting to hold on to the memory of that moment, desperate to remind him. “What?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You were shocked, and you couldn’t mask it. “We met. Don’t you remember? Saturday evening—”

“I said I. Do. Not,” Yoongi interrupted, his voice colder than before, each word heavy with finality. His eyes still didn’t meet yours, and his posture was stiff, rigid. The tension between you was unbearable, like an invisible wall had been built between you two in the span of seconds.

Your face burned. The pink on your cheeks deepened with humiliation, your heart sinking. Why was he lying? Why was he denying it so harshly? You tried to hold it together, but your hands trembled at your sides, your breath catching in your throat. Why was he being like this?

How could he be the same person?

The disappointment hit you like a physical blow, and you felt your shoulders sag slightly, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Your gaze shifted to the ground as your fingers clenched tightly around the paper bag in your hand.

Jimin, who had been standing there quietly, watching the exchange unfold, must have noticed how your face fell. He took a step toward you. He could see it, too—the change in Yoongi. And maybe, just maybe, he could sense your discomfort, but he didn’t know how to fix it.

“It’s okay if he don’t remember,” Jimin said, trying to break the tension, but his words barely landed. His voice, though soft, couldn’t lift the heaviness settling in your chest. “I’ll introduce you both. He’s your neighbor and the C—”

“Building manager,” Yoongi interrupted sharply, his words slicing through the air like a cold wind. His tone left no room for argument. He didn’t even look at you as he spoke, his eyes fixed on Jimin, his hand already gripping his arm with surprising force.

Jimin’s mouth hung open for a moment, clearly caught off guard by Yoongi’s sudden shift. He blinked rapidly, as though trying to process what he’d just heard. “Building manager?” His voice came out more as a question than a statement. His eyebrows shot up, and his mouth snapped shut with a soft click, as if he was trying to hold back the flood of disbelief.

Yoongi didn’t answer him. Instead, he pulled Jimin by the arm, his grip tightening as he dragged him toward the apartment beside yours. The muscles in Yoongi’s jaw flexed as he moved with a strange urgency, his face set in a hard line.

The door slammed shut behind them with a loud thud, the sound echoing in your ears like a final punctuation mark to the whole exchange. The force of it seemed to shake the air around you, the finality of it stinging more than you expected.

You were left standing there, frozen, staring at the now-closed door. Your heart still pounded in your chest, the hurt and confusion twisting inside you like a knot you couldn’t untangle. Building manager?

a/n: Hey, hey, hey, people! Did you survive it? Did you actually like it? Because if you did, please let me know—boost my fragile ego. And if you didn’t, that’s fine too; just rip me apart gently. Feedback makes me feel like a real writer or at least someone pretending to be one. Honestly, I don’t think it was that interesting, but hey, the goal was to post something, right? So yeah, hit me with your thoughts. I'm all ears (and slightly terrified)!

a/n: I know, I know, a lot of you are probably like, ‘Jae, what the hell? Why didn’t he just tell her he’s the CEO? What’s with the secret identity? And why is he so rude?’ Look, I get it. All I can say is: UBS1 is coming soon, so read it and find out. Also, he’s not rude, okay? He’s just... scared Jimin might spill the beans about him being the CEO. That’s it.

[akataiii]

Fluffy!! (Shoyo Hinata x Reader)

“I have to touch it.”

Kiyoko looked up at you from her clipboard, her brows raised questioningly. Even if your words were aimed at her, you didn't see the confused gaze that was resting on you, given your eyes were focused on something entirely different.

“You've lost me,” Kiyoko said to you, and your attention shifted from the court onto her.

“You know what I mean,” you urged, your grip tightening on the volleyball you were holding as you nodded your head to your right.

Kiyoko looked in the direction you’d nodded in, and her eyes scanned the court. After a few moments, she looked back at you, still confused as ever.

“Yeah, no. I don't.”

You gave an over dramatic groan, throwing your head back in frustration. You dropped the ball you’d been holding and reclaimed your seat next to Kiyoko, regarding her with a serious expression.

“I'm talking about someone's hair,” you whispered through gritted teeth, nodding your head to the court again. 

At your words, Kiyoko raised her brows again, this time in surprise. She looked back to the court, searching through the players a second time, this time looking for someone specific. When her eyes landed on said someone, and she gave a realizing ‘Ohh.’

“Mhm,” you hummed, your eyes leaving Kiyoko again to look over at your best friend. Hinata’s wild red hair looked fluffier than usual today due to the humid weather, and it was driving you insane.

You and Hinata were in the same class, and the two of you met at the start of the year when you picked him out of the crowd by his alluring head of fluffy red hair. It stood out to you, and you felt almost drawn to it, so you decided to just go up and talk to him. You and the boy quickly hit it off and became the best of friends, even going so far as to make a personal handshake that the two of you carried out every morning. So every day when Hinata came over to your desk to complete your handshake, you were forced to fight the temptation of ruffling his hair.

It was manageable, though, seeing as Hinata sat behind you and had volleyball before and after school, so you didn’t have to stare at his alluring, fluffy hair 24/7. That is, it was manageable until Hinata invited you to become the next volleyball manager, and of course you couldn’t say no to your best friend, so now you were the new manager in training and you were forced to stare at Hinata and his stupid, fluffy, red hair.

You admitted this to Kiyoko after she caught you staring at him during practice once, and now it’s become a secret shared between you two managers.

“It looks so fluffy,” you complained, earning a smile and a light eye roll from Kiyoko.

“Yes, yes. I’m well aware,” she said, and you gave a pout, your gaze never leaving Hinata as he moved around on the court.

This went on for quite some time, until the team eventually reached the end of the set and everyone came around to drink some water. You watched where Hinata stood off to the side chatting with Kageyama.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you could see Tanaka and Nishinoya approaching your redheaded friend, both wearing serious expressions.

“Hinata. We need to talk,” you heard Tanaka say, and your heart gave a jolt. It was rare for Tanaka to get so serious, and maybe you were imagining it, but he looked almost…mad. It scared you a little.

Hinata spun around, his eyes shooting open in surprise, giving him that innocent expression he usually got. “Sure. Is everything okay?” Hinata asked.

Tanaka folded his arms across his chest, Nishinoya soon mirroring his pose, looking equally serious.

“It’s about what you’ve been doing behind our backs,” Nishinoya said, and Tanaka hummed, giving an affirming nod.

Hinata tilted his head to the side, nose scrunching up in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You know exactly what we mean!” Tanaka suddenly yelled out, getting up in Hinata’s space and hoisting him up by the collar of his shirt.

“You gotta tell us your secrets, man!” Nishinoya added, pointing an accusing finger in the redhead’s direction.

By now, with all the yelling, they had garnered the rest of the team’s attention, and Daichi hurried over to put a stop to what looked to be the starting stages of a fight. You rushed over as well, Kiyoko short on your heels.

“Hey! Knock it off!” Daichi yelled as he yanked the two second years out of Hinata’s space, pulling them off to the side to talk.

“Shoyo. Are you okay?” you asked, placing your hands on the boy’s shoulders.

The redhead nodded, placing his hands over yours and giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m fine,” Hinata said with a smile before looking over to where the two second years were being scolded by Daichi. “I’m just confused.”

You looked over at Tanaka and Nishinoya as well, your hands finally leaving Hinata’s shoulders and your brows furrowing. “You and me both,” you said to your friend.

“Explain yourselves!” Daichi scolded, giving both second years a smack over the back of their heads. A few chuckles sounded out from the team, quickly being silenced when Daichi gave a warning glare.

“Ow! Okay, okay!” Tanaka surrendered, rubbing the sore spot on his head. “Jeez. Did you have to hit us so hard?”

“I’m about to hit you harder if you don’t start explaining,” Daichi threatened, and as if to solidify his statement, he lifted his hand again.

“No! No! We’ll explain!”

“Have mercy!”

Tanaka and Nishinoya shared a look before sighing and directing their attention to the entire team.

“Hinata’s been holding out on us,” Tanaka accused, pointing at the redhead.

“Whatever he’s been doing behind our backs, it’s working,” Nishinoya added, joining Tanaka in pointing a finger at your friend.

“What have I been doing!?” Hinata asked, pointing at himself with his brows dipped into a deep frown. 

“That’s what you have to tell us!” Nishinoya yelled.

“You’ve been hogging all Y/N’s attention!” Tanaka yelled at the same time. 

At their words, a silence fell over the gym before everyone turned their gazes over to you. You stared back blankly, Tanaka’s words taking an extra second to sink in. Once you finally registered what he said, though, your cheeks flushed as heat rushed to your face.

“Wait, it’s not what you guys think!” you exclaimed, wildly flailing your hands around in the air in front of you. “Hinata isn’t doing anything. It’s just me being stupid.”

Realizing what you just said, you hurriedly slapped your hands over your mouth, feeling the heat in your cheeks against your palms. You felt mortified. What you just said was just about as good as a confession that you had been staring at Hinata. Tanaka and Nishinoya knew this, seeing as they’d noticed all your attention was focused on the redhead.

You heard Tsukishima snort somewhere in the crowd, and you wanted to crawl into a hole to hide from your embarrassment. How could you let this happen?

“What do you mean ‘it’s just you being stupid?’” Nishinoya asked, walking closer to you.

“Noooo,” you groaned in protest, hiding your heated face in your hands and crouching down to make yourself seem smaller.

“Y/N?” you heard Hinata ask, and you shook your head.

“No. Just forget I said anything, please.”

“No, please!” Tsukishima yelled from somewhere in the back, his tone sarcastic and mocking. “Do tell us why you’ve been staring and giving Hinata all your attention.”

You groaned again, wishing you could sink deeper into the ground below you. 

“Y/N. Are you okay?” Hinata asked, and you could hear the concern in your friend’s voice clear as day. He sounded close to you.

You turned your head to look to your right, where Hinata was crouched down and looking at you with a worried expression. His hand was raised and ready to rub your back comfortingly, and the thought made your heart do flip-flops.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your words sounding funny where your cheek was smooshed against your forearm.

“For what?” Hinata questioned, his hand lowering onto your back. His palm was pleasantly warm, the heat spreading through your body.

You thought for a moment, biting the inside of your cheek before quietly admitting, “For staring at you.”

Hinata stared back at you with an unreadable expression for a moment before he gained a soft smile.

“I don’t mind,” he said, his smile unwavering and honest. “You can stare at me all you want. It doesn’t bother me.”

Having Hinata tell you that you were allowed to stare at him made your stomach swirl with giddiness, and for a second, you had a fleeting thought. As quickly as it came, you dismissed it, telling yourself that it was a horrible idea that was to be abandoned. Even if Hinata was honest and accepting, that didn’t mean he would allow just about anything.

Unless…No! No, Y/N, don’t even think about it.

“Hey, Shoyo?” Don’t do it Y/N.

“Yeah?” Y/N, don’t say it.

“Can I touch your hair?” Oh. You said it.

You felt Hinata tense up, the hand resting on your back disappearing. Immediately, you opened your mouth to apologize, wishing you could turn back time and take back your question. You felt your embarrassment return full-swing, the heat in your cheeks flaring back up.

“Sho—” you started to say, hoping an apology would be enough and that you’d still be able to remain friends, before you were abruptly cut off by the redhead.

“Yes!” Hinata interjected loudly, and it’s only then that you noted his face looked rather flushed. “You can touch it.”

As he said this, he bowed his head in front of you, giving you a clear view of his fluffier than usual head of red hair. For a moment, you thought about getting up and running away, but the temptation of touching his hair was too strong. Your deepest desire was being presented to you on a silver platter, and you would be a fool not to take it, so, with careful and tentative movements, you lifted your hand and inched closer to Hinata’s hair.

Eventually, you reached his head, and your fingers were buried within his soft red locks. The feeling was everything you’d dreamed about and more, his hair living up to the fluffy ideals you’d set for it in your mind.

“It’s so fluffy,” you whispered, bringing your other hand up and using it to further ruffle Hinata’s hair.

The other members of the team stared at the two of you, most confused, but Tanaka and Nishinoya wearing matching looks of anger. Tsukishima made a sound of disgust somewhere from the back, but you were too busy enjoying Hinata’s fluffy hair to give a damn. Hinata seemed to be enjoying himself just as much as you, giving happy, giddy chuckles and leaning into your touch rather than away.

“You can touch my hair whenever you want,” Hinata said when you got your fix, his hair looking properly tousled and messed up.

“Thank you,” you replied, reaching a hand up to fix one of the more unruly strands. “And thanks for also not thinking I’m weird.”

You looked behind you to where the team had gone back to practice without Hinata. They probably thought you were super creepy or strange, given they hadn’t tried to stop you and get Hinata back on the court.

As if sensing your inner turmoil, you felt Hinata’s presence appear behind you. You were about to turn around to look at him, before two arms wrapped around your torso and squeezed you in a tight hug, stopping you from turning around.

“You’re not weird,” Hinata reassured, his voice right next to your ear and sending a chill running down your spine.

“You think so?” you questioned, hoping it would take your mind off of the warm breath tickling the back of your neck.

“I know so. You’re my best friend after all, so I know you the best.” With a final squeeze, Hinata broke his embrace and ran back onto the court, leaving you behind with a stuttering heart and warm cheeks. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could spot Kiyoko looking at you with a teasing glint in her eye, and you knew for a fact she’d interrogate you later. Maybe this hadn’t been the ideal way to go about telling your best friend you wanted to ruffle his hair, but hey! At least you now had unlimited access to said head of fluffy red hair.

[in1-nutshell]

Hi, it's me again, could you write another story about Buddy Wonder Woman's daughter, about her friendship with John and Dhmian, about her misadventures and about her adaptation to the new modern world

Here are some shenanigans the trio have gotten themselves into!

Hope you enjoy!

Wonder Buddy and the Super Sons shenanigans

SFW, Platonic, Slight Familial, Amazonian reader

WONDER FAMILY

Damian, Jon, and Wonder Buddy were often referred to as the New Trinity by the older Leaguers.

Almost spitting images of their parents in looks and personality.

But they had a different bond than their parents had with each other.

They had a deep-rooted friendship that none of their parents would ever have with each other.

It showed in some of their child like shenanigans.

Exhibit A. The Roomba Incident.

Buddy was very cautious of all the new technology around her, having never seen anything like it on the island.

She had a particular grudge against Roombas after one went rouge (Luthor tech) in the Kent household and she had to fight it.

Lois came back home to a very clean home, a dirty Jon, a new Wayne tech Roomba, and Buddy making apology deserts.

It took forever to get Buddy to stop raising her sword at another Roomba’s.

Damian: “For the last time Buddy this is not going to kill you!” Buddy: “You said that last time and look what happened!” Jon: “Wait!” He flies to the fridge and pulls out a popsicle. Buddy looks at it curiously. Jon: “I’ll give you the popsicle if you put the sword down.” Buddy looks hesitantly before sheathing the sword. Jon chuckles as Buddy has a big smile on her face while eating it. Meanwhile in the Watchtower… Diana: “…Something just happened…” Bruce: “What?” Clark: “Diana?” Diana: “I do not know yet… but something is waiting for me on Earth.”

Which leads to Exhibit B: Sweets.

It surprised both boys how much of a sweet tooth Buddy had.

It was also one of the easiest ways to sway her to their side of an argument.

While she was fair mediator, giving her some of her sweets, she might rethink her previous thoughts.

But they use this power sparingly.

After the Christmas Light Incident, they know better than to let Buddy have too much sugar.

Her inner Amazonian takes the wheel and has enough energy to fight a speedster.

At the Wayne Manor. Daiman: “I told you to watch her! You know she’s still new and gets lost!” Jon: “In my defense, she was right behind me when I last saw her. She couldn’t have gone that far anyways.” A few minutes later… Buddy after 3 plates of cookies and 5 bottles of soda, has her sword out and is swinging maniacally at the test dummies. Buddy: “DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR!” Jon, Damian, Jason, Time, and Steph are behind a table acting as a barrack. Damian: “Which one of you imbeciles thought it was a good idea to give her sugar!” Steph: “To be fair, I’ve always wanted to see what a sugar high Amazon looked like.” Jon peaks over the table. Jon: “She’s still going strong. Dummy number 98 is gone.”

It took a couple hours for her sugar crash to start happening.

All high sugar items in the manor are now heavily guarded.

Even with Buddy’s little hiccups, she is still an extremely loyal friend.

She has gone out of her way to make sure her friends are safe and happy.

Whether it be during missions or as civilians.

The boys wouldn’t give anything up for their friend.

They would stand by her side without hesitation.

Because they knew she would do the same for them.

Jon is trying to talk a bully down. The bully snickers and goes to punch Jon before he notices a girl and boy behind the Kent. Both are glaring at him. If looks could kill, he’d be at the center of the earth by now. The bully leaves. Jon smiles: “I did it guys!” Damian: “Of course.” Buddy: “Didn’t have a single doubt!” Later on patrol… Buddy is carrying Damian in the air. Damian: “I had it handled!” Buddy rolls her eyes. Buddy: “Yes, because nothing says I have it handled than hanging by one’s fingertips with a broken leg.” Damian: “My leg is not broken.” Buddy raises an eyebrow. Buddy: “You want to test that theory?” Damian grumbles in response. Another while later… Some random guy is trying to hit on Buddy at school. Random guy: “How about I show you a good time?” Wonder, oblivious, Buddy: “Oh? What are you planning?” The guy gets closer and slides his arm around her shoulders. Buddy starts to glare at him. His face starts getting closer. THWACK! The guy is now unconscious on the ground. Buddy blinks at the sudden drop. Damian: “Tt.” Jon grabs her hand gently. Jon: “You okay?” Buddy: “I’m fine.” Damian: “How could you let him get so close?” You can easily flick him across the street.” Buddy: “I thought he wanted to be friends.” Damian just groans before grabbing her other hand and starts walking. Damian: “I hate both of you.” Buddy and Jon just laugh as they let their human friend drag them back to the Wayne manor.

[catras-breakup-song]

i’m not gonna lie… i’m lost here. is this supposed to be an 4nt1/cr1t1c4l post? if so, i genuinely don’t understand the point being made.

is it that playful banter is a bad thing? is it that being too hands-on violates unspoken boundaries? the message is so unclear to my autistic ass…

oh, wait, OP provided tags:

so aside from the fact that they are absolutely not sisters by default, least of all canonically (even if you do interpret them that way somehow), nor was it ever intended by nate stevenson, i’m still having trouble figuring out how this is problematic.

in which ways is lighthearted touch totally contradictory to passionate kissing/caressing? why can’t partners who are dating do both, especially in different cultural environments such as the horde where intimacy is discouraged and friendly sparring with familiar peers is a safe expression? if it’s so different, what are we as the audience supposed to interpret from their style of physical affection by the final season? side note, but aren’t we supposed to consider the latest version of anything in general as the most accurate?

now i have a question lol, did you take this moment literally at her word, and all the other times she repeated it?

also, my friend just pointed out that this is the classic homophobic talking point of "they seem to just be very good friends! they were roommates!" lmao. i've never agreed with accusing anyone who cr1t1c1z3s catradora of lesbophobia, which i'm not doing necessarily, because that's simply not how it works, however i found this funny and partially true so i'm keeping it in.

the lip bite was included unintentionally 👀

anyway, as i’ve discussed on this blog before, i’m very arospec and it’s inseparably intwined with my identity itself; i also project that onto catra. something we often bring up in that community, is romance-favorability (as its own spectrum of range all the way to blatant repulsion btw) — which is a personal preference that’s defined as exactly as it sounds like and occasionally revolves around fictional depiction as separate from one's own reality — and arguably more importantly, amatonormativity — which is an arbitrary set of rules for romantic expectations set up by an alloromantic society. this is typically thought of as common denial of the idea that someone could actually want to separate themself from needing a life partner in marriage, but can very much be applied to an annoying list of what draws the line between romantic & platonic relationships. that line is very individualistic and is to be decided on such a level only, and it doesn’t even get into what queerplatonic means, a concept saved for another day!

my point is, the OP seems to be trying to claim that catradora objectively cannot be read as romantic because their dynamic growing up & early-on in the story doesn’t perfectly meet socially-constructed standards of what that should look like. i say we need to eradicate those standards altogether! it’s up to catradora to decide what they are, if anything specific at all, not us as the audience — assuming they could’ve had the words at their disposal to knowingly describe it. going back to my earlier paragraph above about how limited they were in the fright zone, i’ll borrow a quote from a comment i made on one of my recent reblogged posts (which is a great meta on how their mutual desire was uh... definitely not platonic):

"Catra and Adora’s desire for one another is shown in a variety of ways, mostly indirect. There are a lot of glances - until season 5, not the kind of open leering at one another that we’d seen between other characters. Mostly it’s fairly playful - wiggled or cocked eyebrows, glances at each other while smirking, that kind of thing, or really intense and somewhat angry glares when they’re fighting."

it's really bothering me that i can't recall where i read this from before, but someone analyzed before how, growing up, catra & adora didn't have a good sense of how to label their relationship with accurate terminology despite being subconsciously aware that they, whether they knew the other reciprocated or not, loved each other "like that." unfortunately, they couldn't further explore it because such love & affection was seen as a punishable weakness in the horde, so they resorted to the only safe option they seemed to have, which was subtle body language and play-fighting as [testudoaubrei-blog] described above.

also, since this screenshot is included in that post... i would be amused to read an explanation of how THIS LOOK from catra is "platonic with a capital P", because i'm not even sure if it's up for debate to be quite honest with you:

ESPECIALLY with the "i always have!" line (which 4nt1s like to doubt, but i don't care, it's official!):

[himasgod]

Venti x Reader

Where you hear his songs on a starry night, and he tells you about freedom.

Night fell upon Mondstadt with a peaceful calm. Stars twinkled in the clear sky, and the city shone with a golden light from the taverns and homes. The wind carried with it the whisper of ancient songs, and the soft melody of a lyre echoed in the central square.

There, under the dim light of the streetlamps, was Venti. With his trademark cap and mischievous smile, he played his lyre with his eyes closed, as if he wanted the breeze to carry his music to the farthest corners. The few passersby who still wandered the streets stopped to listen, captivated by the beauty of his song.

You stood among the crowd, drawn by the melody as if the wind itself had guided you there. It was not the first time you had seen him; this wandering bard was known in Mondstadt, but few knew where he came from or where he went when he disappeared for days. There was something about his music, the way he smiled at the world as if he held a secret no one else knew, that made you want to get to know him more.

Tonight, however, there was something different about his playing. Though his lyre was still as lovely as ever, the melody was slower, almost melancholic, as if the joy he always exuded was tinged by a veil of sadness.

Once he finished his song, the small crowd applauded, and he bowed slightly. You hesitated for a moment, but eventually approached as the others dispersed.

“Venti,” you called out to him, in a softer tone than you had planned. He looked up, surprised that anyone stayed after his performance.

“Oh! Good evening.” he replied with a mischievous smile. “Have you come to listen to my songs or to buy me a drink?”

You rolled your eyes at his joke. Though he was a bard known for his love of alcohol, there was something deeper about him that intrigued you.

“Actually, I came because…” you hesitated, not quite sure how to put into words what you felt. “Your song tonight… sounded different. More… sad.”

For an instant, something in Venti’s green eyes seemed to flicker, like a star about to fade. But his smile quickly returned, as if the melancholy had never been there.

“Oh, that… is nothing, my lady. Sometimes even the wind needs a pause to remember what it has lost,” he replied with a light laugh, but there was something in his tone that didn’t quite convince you.

Without thinking, you took a seat next to him at the edge of the fountain. The night breeze was cool and smelled of apples and wildflowers. You said nothing else, letting the silence between you speak for itself. And surprisingly, Venti didn’t speak either, just looking up at the stars.

“You know? What happened to that young man?” he said suddenly, breaking the stillness. “A long time ago, there was a young man who longed to fly, but he never could. He had no wings, and the city where he lived was surrounded by storms that prevented the birds from reaching him. But he never stopped dreaming of the skies.”

You turned to look at him. You had heard rumors about Venti’s songs, which told stories about Barbatos and his kingdom, but this story sounded different, more personal.

“What happened to that young man?” you asked.

Venti let out a sigh, and for a moment, his face turned thoughtful, almost sad.

“He fought for his freedom,” he whispered, in a tone you hadn’t heard from him before. “But, like many of the best songs, his story didn’t have a happy ending.”

The wind blew softly, ruffling his hair. You realized there was something Venti wasn’t telling you, something he kept deep in his heart.

“Why do you always sing about freedom?” You asked, softly. You didn’t want to push him, but you wanted to understand.

For a moment, Venti looked at you with those green eyes that shone like emeralds under the moonlight. Then, he let out a light laugh, though not as cheerful as the previous ones.

“Because, dear lady, freedom is the only thing truly worth protecting. But sometimes, even the freely flowing wind feels trapped,” he confessed, before looking up at the stars. “And there are days when even a spirit like me wonders if freedom is really enough.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. There was such a deep sadness in his words that it took your breath away. Venti, that carefree bard who always laughed and joked, seemed to carry an invisible weight that you couldn’t see, but you clearly felt in your heart.

Without thinking, you reached up and touched his hand. He was startled at first, but he didn’t pull his hand away. The breeze grew softer around him, as if responding to your touch.

“You don’t have to carry everything by yourself, Venti,” you told him quietly. “Even the wind needs a place to return to.”

For a moment, Venti was silent. Then, slowly, a genuine smile, devoid of his typical mischief, appeared on his face.

“Maybe you’re right,” he whispered. “Maybe… there is a place for me after all.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. They both stood there, under the stars, the wind still blowing softly around them, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

In the end, even the wind needs someone to listen.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[kittsyspaw]

✦ ❝ 𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭? ❞

𝑆YNO ✦ .ᐟ AcademicRival!Jay jo makes you do a favor after catching you cheating on an important exam in exchange of him not telling on you

WARNINGS !¡ Blowjob no actual sex scene but its implied, kinda descriptive blowie, SHELLY AND JAY AREN'T TOGETHER IN THIS, collage au ig??? Cheating on exam and getting caught by Jay, degrading, OOC JAY BTW him calling you slut or whore, you faking your personality, One-shot, etc

Panicked students rushed to their seats, some prayed, others took looks on their notes or books while some practiced with each other for the last but not least exam. Well, except the two smartest students in the class, who sat at the back, one had his attention out of the window while the other sat right beside him, a smile plastered on your 'calm' face.

While in reality, you were panicking, your palms were oily from the sweat emitting from them. You were so busy the past two weeks, you didn't have the time to even grasp any learning material. But...the reason you were nervous wasn't just because you didn't study but because of the small ink writings that covered your whole wrist like tattoos. You have to pass this exam, or your frame will be ruined.

Jay hadn't paid you any mind, he would never confess to it but you angered him, always getting first place, just a few, a little nudge of more points than him. It made him jealous, it made his mother angry and his friends confused. The girl who always sat in the back, people feared to befriend you, hell, they even were too terrified to ask you for homework because you were on a totally different hierarchy level of intelligence.

You were what people registered as a rare breed of genius, many schools, projects and other companies begged to hire you, to meet with you or have you in one of their projects. You were a raw mystery. Nobody really knew you or who you really were, only a speck of an image spat about you from one gossiping ear to another.

Jay didn't care. At first, he didn't. He had ignored all the scandals and warnings, they told him not to compete with you, they challenged his smarts. Right away, the stoic male noticed the sheer difference in your presence, he lost, the person who bet on you winning a huge sum of money when you passed the last exam effortlessly, scoring 0.5 points more, winning the golden podium.

Ever since, he had been concealing the bitter resentment he had for you, why were you better? How come? Why did you have to be exactly in his class like a fucking curse, Jay jo kept up his monotone act, it was hard. You greeted him everyday, only him. As if the others didn't exist or never even did. You didn't even remember their names, or jay thought so.

He had a little... pride, you didn't acknowledge others to the point where people just started treating you like a goddess, one that just serves her brains and beauty, not allowing anyone in her little circle. Classmates feared you. Jay jo didn't, that's what made you start liking him, you just always had an eye on him.

But today, something was off, Jay had scraped off every little detail about you, he learned it by heart now, your whole dialogue started by you greeting him, organizing your books and pencil case, looking out the window before flashing him a smile then sitting up–straight, there was no dirt to dig up on you...always so...perfect. The other jealous people made up rumors that were hard to believe because you never revealed anything about yourself.

'I want to become a skilled surgeon.'

You had once told the black haired male and it never left his head since, on repeat like a mantra. The one, minuscule you exposed, you trusted Jay with it and boy did he gatekeep that information. He didn't question you any further, scared that you'll pull out of the small connection you two made because he's too pushy.

Yet...today, it was off, a fraud smile, no look out the window, your pencil case not set in a perfect 180° angle, you water bottle sluggishly standing on your desk and the constant jitters of your clenched palms, your posture shrinking. Your little jump when the teacher placed the last exam paper on your desk. "Eyes on your papers, you have two hours and forty minutes, breaks are not allowed, start."

Jay held his black pen between his thumb, pointer and middle finger, his name drawn on the papers before he viewed over the questions, starting with the hardest before continuing his way to the easiest one. Jay had done the sin to glance over at your desk, his glasses reflected the light on the ceiling as he progressed what he was seeing.

The fury that stirred in the male made his fingers clench around the pen, almost twisting it around. All this time? Fucking 'intellectual' his ass, he was gawking at the cheat sheet on your wrist with a clenched jaw, a vein popping on Jaye forehead. All the arguments he got into with his mother, the days he spent praying that you'll change schools for his own good, all of that frustration came from the fact that you cheated? Did you do this with every exam?

He wanted to yell at you right away, rat you out to the teacher right away instead of that...he was quiet. Jay could use this to his advantage, it was a huge piece of blackmail, a dust that he scratched off, that could ruin your life if you wanted to pass this year. And Jay wasn't an asshole either...but it was a win-win situation.

The time flew past your presence and just as you wrote the last answer, ending it with a period, the end-coming alarm went off and the teacher started collecting the exam sheets, you let out a huge sigh, the previous state of you being nervous finally subsided to a normal flow again. "How did you do?"

You shrank at the question, the guilt from being deceitful made you bite down on your bottom lip, chewing on it. "Good, i think." Jay narrowed his eyes at you, his teeth screeching against each other painfully, how dare you? And now you're lying? Looks like that neat persona of yours was faked too.

"oh I bet you did."

The reply you gave was perplexed but Jay shrugged it off so you copied him, not reasoning much with it, just being glad that you didn't get caught in the middle– "I saw you, you know that, Right?" The whisper in your ear made your bit hunched back straighten up immediately, looking at Jay with horrified eyes.

"What are you talking abou–" you tried brushing it off as a joke, your smile faltering when you caught, on you were unshielded from the comfort that came from knowing that nobody had an idea that you were cheating on the exam, your fists clenching at Jays solid face. '"Yeah? Did you?" It was Jays turn to buckle up for the change in identity, your bitchy and sassy side was seeping through the cracks of the fake walls in being a perfect person.

Jay readied himself to cool down from your defensive come-back, cold eyes not separating from his distant, black hues. "So what? Ya' gonna rat out on me? Awh! finally you got some tales to tattle about to the teachers about me?" he was bewildered, absolutely taken aback, Jay got whiplash from the switch of tone... everything.

"And if i do? You can smooch your future of being a surgeon goodbye."

Oh now he did it. He touched the most sensitive and easily angered nerve in your body, pushing you to your limits. "Don't you fuckin' dare." You hissed through your teeth, the little smirk that showed Jays canines made you frustrated, your painted fingernails digging into the wood of your desk, you two were the only ones in the empty classroom that was just filled with conversations, papers being flipped, zippers opened and keys jingled.

"Or what? What are you gonna do?"

Your bottom lip trembled, your eyes glossy and when Jay caught sight of that, his ego faded...did he feel good making you almost cry? You trusted him with sour dream job and he used something that wasn't even bad-gossip as a weapon "Don't cry. I'm not an asshole.... we're gonna make a deal, yeah?"

"What...is it?" You stuttered out, afraid to ask for what the agreement was going to be. Jay looked you deep in the eyes, turning his body so it was in your direction before speaking with no hesitation at all.

"Get down on your knees."

The request left you speechless, your mouth agape, scoffing right after. "Excuse me?" The male tilted his head, as if you had said something wrong, you had no right to question this, your future was on the line. "What is it? You don't understand? It's our deal."

The bold letters of humiliation were printing inside your head as you slowly pushed the chair and got down on your legging covered legs, folding your hands in your lap, refusing to look Jay in the eyes. He taunted you by chuckling, placing his veiny hand over your head, patting the hairs enough for his fingers to get between the spaces of your hair.

Pulling harshly, you yelped at the sting, hands clawing at Jays wrist violently, your face scrunching up as he made you look up at him towering over you, the grip withered, he stroked your head again, was this revenge? "Don't act coy, I bet you've done this multiple times before, didn't you, cheating slut?"

Your ego was hurt by the insult and you were distracted by the sound of a zipper after that, gulping in anticipation...you were gonna do this. For your surgeon future. Well, a hidden part in your tummy was thrilled, finally the eunuch with no desire for any girls touch that you were crushing on was making a move... although this was the wrong situation.

"Go on..."

Batting your lashes a few times, you took out Jays cock...oh it was huge, to your shocker,...it didn't fit in your hand completely, licking your lipglossed lips at the pearly pre-cum collected on his reddish tip. Jays dick was perfect...he was well groomed, two veins on it, one longer than the other and it throbbed teasingly at your cold touch.

Giving it a few kitten licks, Jay groaned, glaring at you through his thick eyelashes, his entire mood changed to a humid one, anyone could walk in at you two and that feeling made his breathing heavier. His hips bucked up after you finally made a 'o' shape, welcoming him in your mouth, only the tip ...your tongue flicking at the slit, licking away the salty drops while your hand twisted up and down his shaft.

Fuck, it definitely wasn't the first time you did this....fucking whore Jays mind was snatched away from him when your real gig started, you bobbed your head up and down, saliva coating up his dick where all the blood in his body had rushed too.

Jay jo was so turned on by you, so painfully. Your alluring eyes that only sirens would behold, your sinful mouth and the way you worked yourself to pleasure him, through his dim vision, Jay caught your wrist sneaking beneath your pencil skirt, rubbing yourself even when a thin layer of leggings covered your heat. You gagged at the penetration against the center of the back of your mouth, Jays hips working together with you.

Did he just get bigger in your mouth or was it your imagination? It was getting harder to breathe with your nose solely, it wasn't going to be any easier with Jay down your throat. Sultriness was pulling Jay in, his mind was turning into mush, the liquid in your mouth, the warmth of your throat and the way your cold hand fisted the rest of his dick.

"F-fuck...you chea– Ahck!" His words were abducted from continuing when you sucked fiercer, moving your head around and your tongue swirling and whipping at him. Just as he was about to cum, you spat him out of your mouth, a bubble of saliva mixed with cum popping with an embarrassingly loud noise that echoed. You coughed a few times before speaking up,

The knot in his stomach was long gone, just seconds before it was gonna go off like fireworks and make his vision darken, eyes roll back as the muscles of his eyebrows pulled them up in pleasure.

"still calling me that? Oh poor baby, couldn't cum?"

You stroked his thigh, resting your head on it as you looked up at the dishevelled Jay who was taking long, big gasps. Your painted pointer finger placed itself on top of his slit, playing with his dick, moving it back and forth, allowing the mess to slide around freely. "Fuckin' Hell... don't do that or I'll cum, yeah?" Jay stared at you with vulnerable, glossy eyes, not even mad that you cut him from his ecstasy.

The male found a grip on your head as you gave him doe eyes, purposefully making him even more feral than he was. "It's okay, i understand....you want to be fucked, right? Fucked so good...you won't even remember your name..." Your puffy, slick lips curled up seductively, running your tongue over them slowly for Jays gaze, you nodded, giving him a pleading look.

His eye twitched, he was gonna fuck that stupid face off, for humiliating him earlier and making him so chaotic at the fact that you were smarter than him. Jay knew that you were anyways, but this time, this was for his own good. He was gonna use this for a while, maybe even have you teach him a few things.

Yay, im kinda on fire lol, but i want the webtoon windbreaker tag to be about the webtoon cuz the anime has taken over lol

The last part was rushed again but im practicing to write smut so yeah

[rainbowsky]

These kinds of things involve clownery of the highest order, but they aren't without precedent. The whole SDOC3 thing is practically unwashable in my eyes, for example, and it's one of those stories that if you tell it without any of the accompanying evidence people will think you've lost all contact with reality.

The first thing I thought when I saw that hug in the video, was, "Surely that's Yibo!" Knowing GG and DD, I think there's no world in which either of them would want to pass up a chance like that to clown the entire world while giving DD a cameo in GG's video. I will be shocked if we find out An Huibo is a real person, and this gets washed. It's just so 'something they'd do'.

I don't buy the superstition thing. It's true GG is superstitious, but not to the degree where I could see him missing this opportunity. And besides, surely any 'betrayal' superstition is outweighed by the fact that GG gets to hug his husband right in front of everyone's salad!

There are also so many possible interpretations for that story, and GG and DD are both actors. I just don't buy this explanation at all.

Not saying that it's definitely Yibo, but I'm eating this candy. I've seen a lot of CPN about the songs and other materials for this album and none of it has grabbed me, but when I watched the video for "Wild" I definitely thought it might be Yibo in that shot.

The Golden Rooster Awards mystery man is a different story. It's so hard to make out his features. In the first photo I definitely had a "Wow, maybe it could be GG..." moment - it really does look like him - but when I saw the second photo I immediately had doubts. The eyes in that photo seem large and droopy (although that could be distortion because it's a screenshot caught while the camera is moving), where GG's are more sleek and upturned. I'd really have to see the actual footage to make any kind of informed guess.

I think it's interesting that someone is sitting in the audience wearing casual clothes and a mask. That's a bit 👀 to me, given that no one else is. One of the reasons someone might wear a mask is to conceal their identity. However there are also other people besides GG who might have reasons to hide their identity.

Anyone who's sufficiently curious and feels capable of such a task can feel free to comb through the footage from that night. It's 9 hours long, but I don't imagine if GG made an appearance that he'd be in the seat for most of the night. He'd have popped in for the major awards that "One and Only" had been nominated for. I'm thinking 7:45 onward until the end of the ceremony.

I skimmed through a bit (you can use the arrow keys to move forward and backward), but I didn't see any camera angles that would match the photo.

It really could be anyone - even DD's makeup artist (I don't see why someone who'd been with him for as long as he has wouldn't want to see DD win such a prestigious award). We will probably never know for sure, but we could definitely get a better idea based on the footage and what point of the night it occurred.

If those screencaps were taken at any point prior to 7:45 in the footage, and that person didn't appear anytime after, I'd be ready to totally wash it. I don't see GG sticking around the main area for the entire tedious ceremony.

If GG has downtime I could see him showing up for the awards to be with DD and support him, and also to be there when (because it's only a matter of time before he does) he wins the big award. I could see him hanging out backstage and creeping in just before DD's award. I don't think that's completely outside the realm of possibility, but based on these photos alone I don't think it's him. I'd need to see more than this to convince me.

Anyway, clowning can be fun. 😅

BURN AFTER READING. 🍭🍬

i have never made a post with this title before, but i have shared some cpn/speculation that deserve to be burned after reading. lol. this term is often used by cpfs for a candy or info related to the boys that may be “dangerous” — so you have to get rid of it after reading. but for my version of it, let’s describe it as something that is a level up from galaxy brain cpn. it’s the kind of cpn you will think twice or thrice before making up your mind about. 💫

we have (2) topics here and just a disclaimer that i am not confirming anything here. this content is for cpf only. don’t take it seriously!

(1) Who is An Huibo 安慧博?

fans noticed that there was a “stand in” credited for the we and life of us music videos and that is this person. think of it as a body double. it makes sense cause aside from that scene in WE, there are times that xz’s figure is against a backdrop so maybe they needed someone to do that. the clowning began when people were thinking about, what if the other xz in WE mv is actually WYB ⬇️⬇️⬇️

i can think of a couple of different reasons why this could be false but the strongest explanation for me is that xz will not allow wyb to so something like this. he is very superstitious. even if this is just acting, he will not allow them to act out a scene of betrayal. that for me is enough to shut this all down. but on the flipside, maybe wyb wanted him (xz) to play his first villain role opposite him in this music video.

now we have the reasons why fans think this is something worth looking at:

1. XZ and this An Huibo are the only 2 credited actors for both MVs. so it seems kinda special.

2. The director of this is LIN, the same one who directed WYB’s redmi advertisement. There are some CPNs both were made at the same studio. Which makes sense cause LIN has his own shooting studio. There is another separate CPN about this but the gist is we think this director is familiar with both of them. So XZ may be comfortable enough to bring WYB along and even include him in the video.

3. It may not be WYB himself, but he used that name to troll us. It’s so close, Huibo. Yibo.

4. I saw this explanation as well:

If "Anhuibo" is read according to the French transliteration as An Huibo, it would approximately read:

[ã чi bɔ]

·ã: similar to "ang";

·qi: similar to "wei" in Chinese, but lighter and soft;

·bo: similar to "wave", slightly shorter.

5. As a CPF, it’s so easy for our alarm bells to ring if you read that name. An alias of sorts for Bobo. some are saying he used this kind of jumbled name to combat the bad aura of their scene together. Since he is superstitious, this removes yibo’s name and identity as the stand in who stabbed XZ’s character. if that makes sense.

maybe we will know more when they release the behind the scenes video. that is if they show who this stand in is. let’s add this to the bjyx clowning vault in the meantime.

(2) XZ look-alike in the recent GRA

i was talking to @rainbowsky about this and my initial reaction was, cpn aside, i’m surprised at how people notice these things! which i actually should be used to considering turtle’s attention to detail, but still!

so here is the “evidence”

👀👀👀👀

like all other turtles, i’m someone who has stared at tons of photos of XZ. so i can totally understand why people would look twice at this person. i get i. i was staring at this photo for so long as well. however most of the cpfs comment on this is against this candy and they have valid reasons:

1. Why would he attend and be in the audience? XZ is someone lowkey so if he was there to accompany WYB, he will be backstage. Yes he is brave, but not like this — which seems almost careless.

2. There are names on the chair, so it’s not like anyone can just sit there casually.

3. Even if you believe in the probability, CPFs don’t wanna talk much about it cause it can be anti material. Saying XZ has to hide and can’t show his face in GRA. or why is he even there incognito when he doesn’t even have a project nominated. You all know how it goes, antis can twist the narrative. Plus we don’t want to accidentally expose them if this was true. We should not observe too much and post about it cause it will make it harder for them to do something similar in the future.

4. How did this person go unnoticed? Everyone had to get inside the security and there are cameras everywhere. He should have removed his cap and mask which — it’s impossible for someone to not notice XZ ( or is it? ). another thing is maybe he went to a diff entrance??

5. Some are washing it and saying it’s Yibo’s MUA.

Please take that last point i mentioned and carry it over to the reason why this look alike is sus. People are able to confirm that this is not WYB’s MUA because he was wearing a different cap. Even the hair and daresay the ears are not the same. and why would a MUA even be there? If WYB needs touch ups then they should do it backstage. If for some reason it has to be while the broadcast and recording was not on or was on a break, he should not sit there and act like a guest.

Yibo’s MUA, Wang Yiduo has been with him for years. He has years of experience being around celebrities and attending these events before WYB. So he knows the decorum. He will not sit there and act like a guest just because he feels like it.

I’m curious too, who is this person who can walk in— in an event filled with people that are dressed up and then come in with a mask and casual clothes. To be allowed to sit there. Who is special enough? Probably a celebrity? and that’s why some think it could be XZ. Even the staff and assistants during the event are dressed up which made this person stand out. As for the CPN explanation, it’s nice to think that XZ is so proud of Yibo’s nomination that he has to be there. He will find a way to be in the audience and witness this special moment. 💕

I think this can easily be analyzed more if we have the video but i don’t have time to rewatch the whole GRA and wait for this cut. Cause i wanna know if it’s even there, that’s how much we question things here! 🤣 It’s so sus to me that we only have the screenshots and no video when CPFs are notorious for having concrete evidence. personally, it reminds me of the SDC3 incident but this one is still pretty outrageous considering it is a public event.

take what you want with this information. and as always, when it comes to BJYX: ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

sources: one/ two

[moeblob]

What Deacon thinks: what did that mean? did he want me to wear a collar too? why else would he mention my neck? i mean, if he /asked/ me i would wear one but he didn't so would wearing one be weird?

What Ymber meant: It's nice to be near someone who isn't tethered to this world to serve it with a physical reminder for all to see.