#twin towers forever

[majachee]

There's a whole forest called the yodfat monkey forest and they have The Monkeys

AND ITS APPARENTLY NEAR AN ARCHAELOGICAL SITE??? OUUUUGH CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TAKE ME THERE TO SEE THE MONKEYS AND LEARN HISTORY

ME WHEN I CAN'T AFFORD TO GO ON TRIPS TO HISTORICAL SITES TO LEARN MORE ABOUT THE COMPLEX HISTORY OF HUMANITY AND SEE THE MONK EYS + SCARED OF PLANES AND CRUISE BOATS

[sixeyesonathiel]

holy week’s about to start, but i can’t stop fantasizing about yandere!gojo with a servant!reader who’s been his shadow forever so take this filth ive written on a whim<3 (if you've seen this earlier with a different age difference, no you didn't. did my best to reword/change everything because i changed the age tho kek, also made this more filthy as promised😼)

cw: heavy dubcon, yandere themes, manipulation, gaslighting, 3 year age gap, power imbalance, explicit sexual content (fingering, pussy slapping, nipple play, edging), dacryphilia, degradation/humiliation, corruption/dumbification, forced commitment, pseudo-sibling complex (not incestuous, just deep emotional bonds from shared childhood), 18+ only, minors DNI.

you’re his servant, three years younger, bound to him since your mother’s milk fed you both—her role was his wet nurse, his caretaker, tucking you into the same nursery, her lullabies stitching you to satoru like thread. you were his shadow in the gojo estate’s cold sprawl—a scrawny kid trailing his steps, offering him sticky candies, giggling when he’d lift you to reach the high shelves. he was the six eyes heir, a lonely boy with hair like starlight, locked away from the world. you’d crawl into his bed during storms, whispering stories to chase his fears, not knowing you were his anchor. he’d pat your head, call you his lucky charm, and you’d beam, too young to see the hunger in his eyes. it was innocent then—your adoration, his protection, a bond like siblings but not, woven from shared nights and secrets.

now you’re grown, or trying to be, with dreams of kyoto—books, freedom, a life beyond bowing. you tell him you’re leaving, voice small but brave, thinking he’ll pat your head like old times. satoru’s not that boy anymore. he’s taller, sharper, a god in human skin, his blindfold hiding eyes that could burn worlds. he leans against a pillar, smirking like you’ve told a joke. he asks for three days to “give you a proper goodbye.” you think it’s sweet, a nod to your childhood. you’re so fucking naive. he’s not saying farewell—he’s raging against you daring to take what’s his. you. his everything.

the night before your train, the bathhouse is a fog of steam, your shift damp, clinging to your thighs like a second skin. you’re rinsing your hair, humming, when the air thickens—electric, heavy. satoru’s there, lounging against the cedar wall, blindfold gone, his eyes a crazed blue, pupils dilated but still searing, like twin oceans swallowing the light. his white shirt’s half-open, collarbone sharp, hair damp, sticking to his forehead like he’s been pacing, plotting. his lips curl, boyish but venomous, a predator playing soft.

“you’re really gonna ditch me?” his voice is low, almost pouty, but there’s a razor in it, slicing through the steam. he steps closer, barefoot, silent, and your heart stumbles. his scent hits—clean, like rain and sugar, dizzying.

you try to laugh, to keep it light, like when you’d steal his mochi. “satoru, it’s not like that. i just… i wanna study, see things. you get it, right?” your words falter under his stare, those eyes—blue fire, pupils twitching, crazed but not lost. they pin you, strip you, like you’re glass.

he tilts his head, a silver strand falling over one eye, and his smile tightens, lips thinning. “you don’t sound convinced, pretty thing.” his hand lifts, slow, deliberate, catching your wrist. his fingers burn, too hot, and your pulse races under his thumb, betraying you. “think you can just walk out? after all i’ve done for you?”

“done for me?” you echo, voice catching. the steam’s choking, your shift’s too thin, and he’s too close, towering, his shadow eating yours. you step back, but the wall’s there, cool and slick against your spine.

his grip slides to your elbow, firm, pulling you flush against him. his chest is hard, warm through his shirt, and his breath brushes your cheek—mint, heat, sin. “you were mine from the start,” he murmurs, lips grazing your ear, sending shivers to your core. “all those nights, your stories, your sticky little hands. you think that was nothing?” his free hand slips under your shift, tracing your thigh, slow, teasing, until your breath hitches.

you should push him off. this is satoru—your satoru, who’d carry you when you fell, who’d sneak you sweets—but not like this, not with his fingers climbing, brushing the damp cotton between your legs. “satoru, stop,” you whisper, but it’s weak, trembling, and your thighs part, just a fraction, traitor to your will.

he laughs, soft, cruel, his eyes glinting as his pupils pulse, blue blazing like a storm. “stop? oh, sweetheart, look at you.” his finger presses against your core, light, testing, and you gasp, knees wobbling. “already wet through this flimsy thing. what kind of good girl dreams of leaving then soaks herself for me?”

“i’m not—” you start, but his finger slips past the fabric, grazing your slit, and your words choke into a whimper. he’s watching, always watching—jaw tight, lips parted, a flush creeping up his neck like he’s barely holding on. the boy you loved is there, but twisted, hungry, his beauty sharper, meaner.

“not what?” he taunts, sliding one finger inside you, slow, deliberate, curling just enough to make you clench. “not mine? not desperate?” he steps closer, pinning you with his hips, and his cock’s hard against your thigh, straining through his pants. “you’re a fucking mess already, and i’ve barely started.”

tears prick your eyes, hot, spilling fast, and he groans, low, animal, leaning in to lick a stripe up your cheek. “fuck, you’re gorgeous when you cry,” he breathes, voice fraying, like your tears are his drug. his finger moves, slow, deep, and you’re trembling, heat pooling where he’s stretching you. “makes me wanna break you, pretty thing. wanna see how many tears you’ve got left.”

“satoru, please,” you sob, clutching his shirt, damp cotton twisting under your nails. your body’s screaming—too much, not enough—and he’s everywhere, his breath hot, his touch burning. you’re barely even an adult, barely anything, and he’s unraveling you like it’s his right.

“please what?” his voice drops, mocking, and he pulls back, eyes blazing, pupils wide but still blue, crazed, endless. “please stop? please more?” his thumb finds your clit, circling, and your hips buck, chasing the ache despite the shame clawing your throat. “you’re humping my hand like a needy slut. think kyoto’s got this? think anyone else can make you this dumb already?”

“no,” you gasp, and it’s true, god help you—he’s carved himself into you, every soft moment now a blade. his finger curls deeper, joined by another, stretching you, and you bite your lip, tears streaming as the burn twists into need.

he coos, soft, sickening, his free hand cupping your jaw, thumb brushing your tears. “aw, poor thing, crying so pretty for me.” his voice is honey, but his fingers thrust harder, slick sounds loud in the steam. “you don’t need dreams, sweetheart. you need me, don’t you? always have.” his lips brush yours, a tease, then pull back, leaving you chasing air.

“i just… i wanted—” you try, chasing what’s remaining of your reason, but his thumb grinds your clit, ruthless, and your words fracture into a moan. his smile’s gone, replaced by something darker—jaw clenched, eyes wild, like you’ve hurt him.

“wanted what?” he snaps, yanking his fingers out, and you whine, empty, hips twitching. “wanted to leave? to forget me?” his hand slaps your pussy, sharp, sudden, and you cry out, the sting melting into heat that makes you clench around nothing. “look at this greedy cunt,” he sneers, slapping again, harder, watching you jolt. “making a fucking mess all over me. you disappointed me, you know that?”

“i’m sorry,” you sob, frantic, nails digging into his arms. your tears are rivers now, and he drinks them in, his tongue darting out to taste your cheek again, a low groan rumbling in his chest. his fingers plunge back in, three now, brutal, curling against that spot that makes you see stars.

“sorry’s not enough,” he growls, but his voice cracks, raw, like he’s the one breaking. “you did this to me, you know. all those years, following me, needing me—fuck, you think i wanted to crave you like this?” his thumb’s back on your clit, circling fast, and you’re trembling, so close it’s painful. “you’re mine, pretty thing. say it.”

“i’m yours,” you whimper, voice raw, and his eyes soften, just a flicker, before they harden again, pupils pulsing in that crazed blue sea. he kisses you then, hard, possessive, teeth clashing as he swallows your sobs, his tongue claiming every corner of your mouth like it’s his territory.

“good girl,” he purrs, pulling back, lips wet, swollen. “but you’re still a filthy little thing, aren’t you?” his fingers slow, teasing, keeping you dangling, and you whine, hips grinding against his hand. he slaps your pussy again, twice, three times, each one meaner, and you’re keening, slick dripping down your thighs, pooling on the floor. “won’t you look at this?” he laughs, mocking, holding up his hand, glistening with you. “you’re soaking me, sweetheart. what a dirty fucking mess.”

“satoru, please,” you beg, voice breaking, and he coos again, sickeningly sweet, his free hand sliding to your chest, yanking your shift down to bare your breasts. his eyes darken, pupils twitching, and he leans in, latching onto your nipple, sucking hard, teeth grazing.

“fuck, these are perfect,” he mumbles against your skin, tongue flicking, and you arch, moaning, oversensitive. he pulls back, eyes locked on yours, and his voice drops, filthy, reverent. “your mom fed me, you know—gave me her milk. and now here i am, sucking on her daughter’s tits like a starving man.” he bites down, just enough to sting, and you scream, soft and broken, as he laves over the mark. “kinda poetic, huh? full fucking circle.”

you’re babbling now, incoherent—his name, please, more—lost in the heat, the pain, the way his fingers fuck you relentless, thumb grinding your clit until you’re teetering, body taut. “satoru, i can’t—i’m gonna—”

“not yet,” he snarls, yanking his hand free, and you wail, empty, aching, hips bucking into nothing. your knees give, but he catches you, pinning you to the wall with his body, cock hard and leaking through his pants, pressing against your belly. “you don’t come ‘til i say, you hear me?” his voice is low, fraying, and his eyes—still blue, but crazed, electric—bore into you, daring you to disobey.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” you sob, frantic, hands scrabbling at his chest, his shirt wet with your tears, your slick. his skin’s fever-hot, muscles tense, and his breath’s ragged, hitching like he’s fighting himself.

he leans in, forehead to yours, damp hair sticking to your skin. “you’re not sorry yet, pretty thing.” his voice is soft, dangerous, and his hand’s back, four fingers now, stretching you wide, palm slapping your clit with every thrust. “but you will be. gonna fuck you ‘til you’re too dumb to want anything but me.”

you’re gone, body seizing, babbling nonsense—satoru, please, need you, yours—and he’s murmuring filth, fractured, unhinged. “that’s it, fuck, look at you—gushing like a whore for me. think your silly books can do this? think anyone else can wreck you like this?” his fingers twist, relentless, and your cries echo, too loud, obscene in the cedar haze.

“no one,” you choke, and he rewards you with a kiss, softer this time, but still possessive, tongue tracing your teeth like he owns them. “only you, satoru, please—”

“damn right,” he growls, and his face shifts—jaw tight, eyes blazing, a flush painting his cheeks like he’s burning from the inside. “you’re mine—every fucking breath, every drop of you.” his fingers slow, dragging out the torment, and you’re begging, hips grinding, voice shot. he slaps your pussy one last time, so hard you scream, and you clench, leaking down his arm.

“come for me,” he finally rasps, voice raw, like it’s torn from his soul. “come all over my hand, show me you’re my good fucking girl.” and you do, shattering, gushing, body convulsing as you soak him, slick dripping to the floor. you’re babbling—satoru, yours, love you—words spilling without sense, and he fucks you through it, cooing how perfect you are, how you’re his, lips brushing your tears like they’re gold.

you’re limp, panting, but he’s not done. he kneels, yanking your shift higher, and licks a slow, greedy stripe up your thigh, tasting you. “fuck, you’re sweet,” he groans, eyes meeting yours—still blue, crazed, but softer, sated. “gonna eat you proper later, sweetheart. but not yet.” he stands, his tongue flicks your nipple again, teasing, and you whimper, oversensitive.

then he’s pulling you into his arms, strong, too strong, like he’s scared you’ll vanish. “you’re not leaving,” he says, quiet, final, his breath hot against your hair. “not tomorrow, not ever.”

you don’t fight. you can’t. a week later, a ring glints on your finger, his clan’s crest cold against your skin. he calls you his fiancée, voice dripping pride, and you smile, because he’s satoru—your satoru, who gives you silk, sweets, his endless obsession. you don’t need kyoto, or dreams. he’s burned them all to ash, and you let him, because he’s all you know.

[lilislegacy]

Hey, so, I was thinking about firefighter Percy Jackson, and then thought about the OG timeline (2005-2009). That got me thinking: do you think that Percy’s fascination with firefighters got started by 9/11? He saw those individuals that looked at the world crumbling around and decided to go and fight it anyways? And it felt so familiar, even though he was 10 and didn’t know why?

(You can answer privately if that’s a better way to tackle this)

Oh I absolutely think 9/11 had an effect on Percy. No doubt about it. When I posted that little one shot I wrote forever ago of percy telling Sally that he wants to be a firefighter (should I dig that up and reblog it? 🤔), I wrote about her being all freaked out cause she just has this memory of seeing all of the firefighters run into the World Trade Center and never come out.

Percy’s heart beats for New York. He lives in Manhattan, where the twin towers were. That’s always been his home. So 9/11 would definitely have had a big affect on him, even if he was young. So in addition to him being burn resistant, having control over water, being strong and fast, and wanting to feel good about what he’s doing and help people, I think it’s just another huge reason that firefighting is so fitting for him

[polkadotzzzz]

I had a dream about Sevika with reader and her two twin girls. Could you make it happen?

(Expand as much as you want, add what you want, and if this is an inconvenience you can ignore it, nothing happens, we love you anyway)

Only if you could add the line of one of the little girls going towards Sevika, opening her hands so that she can pick her up and say "mom, I'm hungry."

(Yes, God exists, and that is you)

a/n: THIS WAS MY FKRST EVER ASK!!!!! im ashamed to say it took me this long to write it but in my defense, it took forever i wanted it to be perfect

mdni, no warnings!

the city of piltover had always been a place of grandeur, its towering pristine penthouses and gleaming facades shining against the horizon, a testament to its wealth and influence. but for sevika, the industrial shadows of zaun felt like home. it was a place where she had been forged—both hardened and softened by the brutal rhythm of life in the undercity.

though she had long left behind her life as a soldier, the echoes of her past still followed her. yet, in the quiet moments, when the weight of the world seemed just a bit lighter, sevika found peace in the presence of those she loved most—her wife, and their two twin daughters, nyra and lila.

the house they shared in the lower levels of the city was modest but filled with warmth. it was a small refuge from the chaos that often lurked in the streets of zaun. the walls were adorned with handmade decorations and trinkets, each telling a story of the lives they had built here. every corner of the house was lived in, and the scent of cooked meals and freshly baked bread filled the air, mingling with the hum of machinery outside. sevika had never been one for sentimentality, but there was something about these small, tender moments that made her feel as though she could breathe again.

you were at the stove, hair tied back in a loose ponytail, humming softly as you prepared the evening meal. the girls were nearby, playing with a set of wooden blocks, giggling as they built towers and knocked them down with delighted shrieks.

sevika leaned against the doorway, watching the scene with a rare smile. her large, calloused hands, still scarred from years of combat and hard work, rested at her sides. the sight of her family—the quiet peace they shared—was something she had never thought possible. she had lived a life of violence and struggle, and yet here, in this small home, she had found something worth protecting more than anything else.

you noticed your wife’s gaze and smiled back. “you’re staring again, sev.”

sevika’s smile widened, though she tried to play it cool. “just making sure you haven’t burned dinner. wouldn’t want to eat your cooking again."

you laughed softly, shaking your head. “you’ve eaten worse, and you still kept me around. must be something about me that’s more than just my cooking.”

“you’re right about that,” sevika replied, stepping into the kitchen and brushing a kiss across your cheek. her voice softened. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

you placed the spoon down on the counter and turned to face sevika, expression warm. “you’d survive, just like always. but i’m glad you don’t have to.”

before they could say more, a small voice interrupted them.

“mama, i’m hungry!”

it was nyra, her little hands outstretched toward sevika. the toddler’s big, curious eyes were wide with innocence and hunger, her round face flushed from play. she waddled toward sevika, her short legs moving quickly, as if her very being demanded immediate attention. nyra's twin, lila, followed closely behind, though she was more reserved, her arms crossed as she leaned against the nearby table, watching her sister’s antics with quiet amusement.

sevika chuckled softly, crouching down to her daughter’s level. “you’re always hungry, little one.”

nyra reached up with grabby hands, eager for her mother’s embrace. sevika couldn’t help but smile as she lifted her up, cradling her close. the warmth of her daughter’s small body in her arms always grounded her, reminding her of the simple joys of life.

“we’re almost done, sweetie,” you called from the stove. “can you wait a little longer?”

nyra pouted slightly, but then a mischievous grin spread across her face. “but i’m hungry now!”

sevika kissed the top of nyra’s head, feeling a swell of affection. “i think i’ve got something for you,” she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a sweet she had gotten from a vendor earlier.

nyra’s eyes lit up as she took the candy, her hands grasping it eagerly. “yay, mama!” she squealed, sinking her teeth into the treat as she clung to sevika.

lila took a few steps forward. “i want something too,” she said, her voice quiet but insistent.

sevika smiled softly at her other daughter, brushing a lock of hair out of lila’s face. “don’t worry, sweetie. you’re next.”

you, still stirring the pot on the stove, glanced over your shoulder with a knowing look. “you spoil them too much.”

sevika raised an eyebrow, grinning. “you spoil them too. it’s just in our nature.”

you chuckled. “true. but they do deserve it.”

for a few moments, the world outside their home seemed to fade away. there were no gang fights or political unrest in the streets of zaun, no looming threats to their peace. it was just the four of them, safe and content, in their little corner of the world.

though the peace in their home was often enough to make sevika forget the world outside, it never fully went away. the shadow of zaun’s darker realities always loomed, just beyond the walls of their little haven. there were days when sevika couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to break—that the fragile peace they had built could be shattered at any moment.

one such evening, as the girls played in the other room, sevika found herself staring out the window, her thoughts drifting to the streets below. her mind wandered back to her past—back to the fights, the betrayals, and the violence she had left behind when she chose a different life.

but even as she thought about it, she knew she could never truly escape it. no one who came from the depths of zaun could. the weight of that knowledge sat heavy on her shoulders, even here, with her family at her side. she had made a choice to stay, to build something with you, but the past had a way of resurfacing when least expected.

you noticed her wife’s distant expression and stepped over to her, wrapping your arms around sevika’s waist from behind. “you’re thinking too much again.”

sevika’s shoulders relaxed as she leaned back into your embrace. “i can’t help it. sometimes, i wonder if i’ve made a mistake staying here.”

you kissed the back of sevika’s neck softly. “you’ve built something beautiful, sev. we’ve built something. and we’ll protect it. together.”

sevika nodded, drawing comfort from your words. “i just want the girls to have a life without all the bloodshed. a life where they can dream without looking over their shoulders.”

“they will,” you reassured her, your voice firm but tender. “you’ve already given them that.”

sevika let out a long sigh, turning to face her wife. she placed a hand on your cheek, her thumb brushing across the familiar, soft skin. “sometimes i’m afraid the world will take them from us.”

you smiled, eyes filled with love and adoration. “then we fight. for them. for us.”

sevika could only nod, the weight of the world lightened just a bit by the warmth of your presence.

[kingkruell]

THREE NIGHTS AND FOREVER | GOJO SATORU

SYNOPSIS - three nights in tokyo. a stranger with rain in his hair and a crooked smile. shared umbrellas, bad jazz, pancakes at midnight. and now, sometimes, when it rains—you still think of him.

CONTENT - gojo satoru x reader, reminiscent of before sunrise, brief encounters, strangers-to-something more, melancholic, fluff, angst.

WORD COUNT - 4.550

A/N this is purely self-indulgent. not really satisfied with how the writing turned out but this is quite literally my way of coping with something similiar, probably the same, that happened to me lol (HELP ME. i am yearning, i need him back).

listening to surrender - suicide

01 —

the first night, it was a mistake—or rather, a coincidence. you hadn’t meant to bump into him on the quiet side street just as the rain started to pour, your umbrella uselessly tucked in your bag. he looked down at you, almost bemused, the rain dripping from his stark white hair. then, with a little tilt of his head and a crooked grin, he offered to share his umbrella.

and that was how it began. 

the thing about being in a foreign city is that it’s exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. the air felt different, dense with the most unfamiliar scents. tokyo loomed around you, towering buildings draped in lights and adorned with billboards in a language you couldn’t quite grasp. the sounds too, were unfamiliar, snippets of conversations in rapid japanese mingling with the distant hum of traffic. faces passed by, each one a stranger, and you couldn’t help but feel like a tiny, misplaced puzzle piece in this sprawling metropolis. you had to remind yourself—this was what you wanted. you’d spent months dreaming of this, convincing yourself (and your parents) that you needed this break, that you wanted to see more than just the streets of your hometown. 

still, it was daunting. the sheer size of the city made you feel small. you clutched your phone a little tighter, the map open, your location marked with a blue dot that felt so isolated among the dense web of streets.

thankfully, you weren’t alone. the thought of traveling on a budget, navigating public transportation, and eating at hole-in-the-wall restaurants all by yourself would’ve been too intimidating. you and your friend had spent weeks planning the trip, pinning places to visit, calculating train fares, and mapping out hostels. you had watched countless travel vlogs, trying to absorb every piece of advice, but nothing could really prepare you for stepping onto tokyo’s streets for the first time.

the morning you landed was a blur of heavy eyelids and aching muscles from the long-haul flight. you navigated the airport in a half-dazed state, shuffling through customs and baggage claim, your friend grumbling about needing coffee. once you reached the hotel—a compact room with twin beds squeezed together and a narrow window overlooking the street below—you didn’t bother to unpack, just dropped your suitcase, splashed water on your face, and tried to shake off the fatigue. the city was waiting and you couldn’t sit still. 

so, despite it all, the excitement was enough to get you propelling out the door and into the bustling streets of the city. you walked through the nearby neighborhoods, narrow street lined with vending machines, an old record shop tucked between modern boutiques, a shrine hidden behind an iron gate. you stopped at a convenience store like it meant something, and maybe it did, because you were miles and miles away from home, and even the mundane felt important here. the fluorescent lights flickered as you picked up a canned coffee, examining the unfamiliar labels before tossing it into your basket just for the novelty of it.

you took pictures of everything: the uneven cobblestoned path, the gnarled trees casting long shadows, the sky shifting from soft orange to deep indigo. 

by the time you and your friend made your way back to the hotel, the sky had deepened into a rich navy, dotted with scattered stars just barely visible through the city lights. 

your friend trudged in behind you, barely managing to kick off her shoes before flopping onto the bed face-first. you raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe.

“that’s it? you’re tapping out already?” you teased, trying not to sound too disappointed.

hhe mumbled something into the pillow that sounded vaguely like “comatose” and then turned her head just enough to give you a halfhearted glare. “we’ve been walking for hours. my feet hate me.”

you laughed softly, tossing your jacket onto the other bed. “i did warn you about the long walks.”

she groaned, rolling onto her back and waving a dismissive hand in your direction. “yeah, yeah. worth it, though. but seriously, i’m done for the night. Wake me up if you find somewhere to eat.”

you looked at her, sprawled out with one arm draped over her eyes, and you knew she wasn’t moving anytime soon.

“you sure?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

she just hummed in response, already halfway to sleep. you watched her for a moment, considering. maybe you should just stay too, let the tiredness catch up. but then you glanced out the window, catching a glimpse of the neon signs flickering on the next building over.

grabbing your phone and jacket, you moved quietly to the door. iI’ll just go for a walk,” you whispered, more to yourself than to her.

she didn’t respond, already breathing softly in that deep, dreamless way. you couldn’t help but smile, pulling the door shut gently behind you.

stepping back outside, the air was cooler now, brushing past your cheeks as you walked, your steps echoing softly on the pavement. Tokyo at night was different—a bit calmer, but still pulsing with life. you passed late-night eateries with their warm glow, groups of friends spilling out into the street, laughter bubbling over.

you hadn’t noticed the clouds rolling in until the first raindrop hit your cheek. you stopped, looking up just in time to feel a few more drops dot your face. within seconds, the drizzle turned into a full downpour.

"fucking hell." you cursed under your breath, rummaging through your bag, but of course, your umbrella was neatly folded between the notebook and paperbags you carried out of habit–useless at the bottom. you were contemplating whether to make a run for the nearby convenience store when a shadow fell over you.

“didn’t bring one, huh?”

you turned, blinking the rain from your lashes, and found yourself staring up at a tall figure holding an obnoxiously bright, polka-dotted umbrella over both your heads. His hair was stark white, drenched from where it peeked out from under the umbrella, and his eyes—pale, crystalline blue—crinkled with amusement.

“uh—” was all you managed to get out, and he chuckled, the sound low and almost teasing.

“figured you’d need some rescuing,” he said, his tone breezy as if he did this all the time, saving strangers caught in the rain.

you swallowed your embarrassment and managed a small smile. “i, um… yeah. I wasn’t expecting it to rain.”

he tilted his head, considering you. “tourist?”

“is it that obvious?” you asked, more sheepish than you intended.

he hummed, a smirk tugging at his lips. “a little. you’re lucky i was around. you’d have been soaked.”

you glanced at his own wet hair pointedly. “you don’t look much better.

“he gave a dramatic, exaggerated sigh. “yeah, well, the hero always gets a bit messy, right?”

you couldn’t help but laugh at that, tension easing out of your shoulders. the rain kept falling, steady and relentless, but you didn’t feel rushed to move. he just stood there, holding the umbrella as if time didn’t matter.

“i'm satoru,” he introduced, leaning closer so his voice didn’t have to rise over the rain.

“i”m y/n.”

“y/n” he repeats, as if testing how it sounds on his tongue

“where were you headed?” he asked, glancing around as if he could read your thoughts from the streets themselves.

“nowhere, really,” you admitted. “Just… walking.”

he nodded, “best kind of walking,” he said. 

the city around you glistened under the rain—reflections of red traffic lights stretching like ribbons across the wet pavement, the hiss of tires, the hum of a vending machine trying to outlast the drizzle. You weren’t sure why you stayed there under his umbrella, or why he made no motion to leave. but something about him—his ease, his presence—made the silence feel less lonely. satoru shifted slightly, tilting the umbrella more toward you. you noticed he was getting wet, his shirt clinging just slightly at the shoulder. you opened your mouth to say something, to suggest maybe he should be more under the cover too, but he beat you to it.

“let me guess,” he said, grinning, “you packed the umbrella, but it’s at the very bottom of your bag. under, like, three novels and at least one completely useless souvenir.”

you squinted at him. “close enough. how did you know that?”

“because you look like someone who overthinks what to pack, then forgets the important stuff.”

You feigned offense, but laughed again. “okay, that’s… disturbingly accurate.”

he shot you a proud look, and for a moment, he looked younger—boyish, carefree. not like someone who should be wandering Tokyo in the rain rescuing lost tourists. you wondered where he came from. what he did. why he was here.

“come on,” he said suddenly. “there’s a 24-hour café down this street that sells pancakes the size of your face. warm drinks. bad jazz”

you raised an eyebrow. “and you’re inviting me to get pancakes... with a complete stranger?”

“i’m offering you shelter, nourishment, and potentially life-altering conversation,” he said solemnly. “some might say I’m a guardian angel.”

you snorted. “some might say you’re a guy with a ridiculous umbrella trying to lure a girl into a café.”

his grin widened. “and yet you’re still standing here.”

you were.

you hesitated. He was a stranger. you didn’t even know his last name.

you didn’t quite know why, but maybe it was the way he spoke, half-mocking but never unkind, or the way his eyes didn’t try to look through you, just at you, like you were interesting just for existing. maybe it was the way tokyo looked with him beside you, less like a place to get lost in, more like somewhere you were meant to be.

“okay,” you said, surprising yourself. 

the café was just as he promised, quiet, glowing softly with yellow light, a bell chiming as you stepped inside.iInside was mall, with steamed-up windows and soft yellow lighting. it smelled like coffee and something sweet, and the jazz was, indeed, bad. some ti   trumpet over a scratchy speaker, but it worked. the warmth hugged your skin, chasing away the chill. Satoru shook the rain from his umbrella like a dog, nearly whacking a decorative plant by the door, and you laughed again, your hand covering your mouth too late to hide how easy it was to enjoy this.

he ordered pancakes and hot chocolate for you both, without asking. you didn’t mind. He sat across from you like he belonged there, like you’d done this before—like this was just one of many rainy nights you’d find yourselves tangled up in each other’s company.

he leaned back, his arms spread comfortably along the back of the booth, his legs stretching out beneath the table. he looked relaxed in a way you weren’t used to seeing in strangers. like he wasn’t trying. like he never did.

you wrapped your fingers around the ceramic. It was hotter than expected, and comforting. outside, the rain blurred the city into a watercolor, and you took a sip.

“so, what brought you here?” he asked. his tone was casual, but his eyes were too focused for it to be small talk.

you hesitated, then answered honestly. “restlessness, I guess. I needed to be somewhere else for a while.” he nodded like he understood. “the city’s good for that. It doesn’t care who you are. It just lets you be.”

you hummed as your fingers nervously tap on the ceramic glass holding the hot chocolate, “what about you?” you asked. “are you from here?

”something like that.” he didn’t elaborate. 

he looked out the window for a moment. “more or less. i come and go.”

with that, you let it rest. some things didn’t need to be unpacked right away. Instead, you talked about little things; your favorite convenience store snacks, the weirdest souvenirs you’d seen, the way tokyo felt like it belonged to a different world at night. he told you about a bakery that only opened after midnight, and a cat that lived near the train station who hated everyone except him. you didn’t know what was real and what was embellished, but you liked listening. you asked lighter things. favorite food. best childhood memory. the last movie that made him cry.

“the wind rises,’” he admitted. “don’t tell anyone. gotta protect the cool guy reputation“

you laughed. "i won’t. as long as you don’t tell anyone I cried at a toothpaste commercial once.” 

“deal.”

the rain had stopped by the time he walked you back to the hotel. the streets were slick, shining like glass, catching every amber streetlight in pools beneath your feet. mist clung low, softening the edges of everything—cars, buildings, even the distant clatter of closing cafés. it felt like the city was exhaling.

you walked in silence for a while. not awkward, not heavy. just full. like neither of you wanted to break whatever spell the night had spun around you.

he didn’t offer his arm, but your hands brushed once, then again, until your fingers found each other without thinking. his hand was warm. steady. you held on like you’d been doing it for years.

the hotel came into view too soon.

outside the door, you turned to him.

“this is me,” you said, like it wasn’t obvious.

he nodded. “i know.”

neither of you moved.

you wanted to say something. about the night. about how strange and lucky it felt.

“i’m glad we met” he said. quietly. honestly.

you swallowed the knot in your throat and nodded. “me too.”

“goodnight,” he said.

“goodnight,” you echoed.

he turned and walked back with his hands in his pockets, head down. you watched him until the fog swallowed him whole. and then you went inside, heart pacing ahead of you like it already knew what this night would mean.

and even then, even as sleep finally pulled at you—you could still feel the shape of his hand in yours.

02 —

you didn’t expect to meet him again, but there he was. 

he was waiting in front of the steps to the hotel. he stood there like he’d always been meant to stand under that awning. this time, he held two convenience store drinks and a bag that smelled suspiciously like fried food.

“ I have brought offerings,” he said, holding out a piece of curry bread.

you raised a brow. “what if I hadn’t come?” you asked, accepting the bread he offered without question.

he looked mock-affronted. "then I’d have to eat  two breads and drink two disgusting convenience store coffees.”

tonight, he led you toward the quieter streets by the river. the city softened there—lights dimmer, footsteps slower. You walked in companionable silence for a while, sharing stories in between bites,

“so,” he asked, once the city faded to river sounds, “what did you want to be when you were a kid?”

you smiled. “an astronaut. I used to read random astronomy books in the back of the class in primary”

he laughed. “that’s adorable. i wanted to be a superhero“

“and now?”

he paused. “not now. just want a soft kind of life.”

you wanted to ask what he meant, but something about his expression made you pause and that honesty, the honesty startled you. he hadn’t said much about himself, not directly. but every answer carried a weight. Like he’d lived too much.

he bought you another canned coffee before the walk back, despite your protests.

“i like taking care of people,” he said, half-joking. “don’t get used to it.”

you were already starting to.

and just like the night before, satoru walked you back to the hotel. You lingered near the front steps hesitantly. the lights from the lobby painted his profile in amber as he turned to you, eyes thoughtful, lips parting like he wanted to say something.

“hey,” he said, almost like he was changing his mind as he spoke. “wanna meet again? tomorrow night. yoyogi park?”

you blinked, “yoyogi park?”

“It’s nice at night,” he said. “quiet. there’s a little bench under the trees that no one ever sits on. it’s kind of mine.”

you tilted your head. “and you’re inviting me into your secret territory?”

he gave a faint grin. “only because you’re special.”

you looked at him for a beat too long, searching his face. there was something about the way he stood there—unguarded for once, a little shy in a way you hadn’t expected.

“okay,” you said quietly. “i’ll be there.”

“ten?”

“ten.”

03 —

the park was nearly deserted. only the faint rustle of leaves in the dark and the occasional distant bark of a dog accompanied your footsteps. the moonlight draped over everything in silver, and streetlamps cast halos of soft orange on the path.

he was there first. sitting on the edge of a fountain, head tilted back to watch the sky like it might offer an answer. he didn’t move when he saw you,just gave a lazy wave without looking away.

you sat beside him, close but not touching. The air between you was cooler tonight, filled with something unspoken.

“stars are clearer tonight,” he murmured. “tokyo doesn’t give many of them.”

you followed his gaze. “they’re still there. just hidden, i think.”

“yeah,” he said, and you weren’t sure he was talking about the stars anymore.

you stayed like that for a while. he asked about your childhood. you asked about his travels. slowly, the details began to paint a picture. He’d been everywhere and nowhere at once. teaching, he said. but not the kind you imagined. he spoke of students with reverence, but there was always something behind it.

“there’s risk in what I do,” he admitted. “but I chose it. doesn’t make it any easier.”

You turned to him. “why tell me?”

he was quiet for a beat. “because you listened. ”

the wind stirred. you tucked your hands into your coat.

“i didn’t expect to meet anyone like you here,” you said.

his gaze dropped to you, and for the first time, he looked genuinely unsure.

“i don’t know what I can offer. i'm leaving here tomrrow.”

“i know.” His voice was soft. you swallowed, heart ticking a little faster. “then don’t promise anything. just be here. tonight.”

he looked at you like he wanted to memorize you. then, slowly, he leaned in.

the kiss was soft. hesitant. his hand came up to cradle your face, fingers brushing your cheek like he couldn’t believe you were real. it wasn’t rushed—it wasn’t about urgency or passion. it was the kind of kiss that asked, Is this okay? and gave you the chance to say yes without words.

when he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. you could feel his breath.

“this doesn’t last,” he whispered.

“i know.”

“but it’s real.”

you nodded. “it is.”

you exchanged numbers. and for a while, you talked. voice notes. random photos. one-line jokes. you told him about the barista at your regular café who misspelled your name three days in a row. he told you about a crow that stole his entire sandwich. 

there were nights you fell asleep with his voice still echoing in your ear, a half-finished voice message paused on your screen. other times, he'd call when you least expected it, his voice bright even when he was clearly exhausted.

did you eat yet?

text me when you get home.

it didn’t matter that it was two a.m. on his end. He called anyway. He never said why, but you didn’t need him to. the warmth behind his voice was answer enough.

you learned the rhythm of his days, or the ones he allowed you to see. sometimes, he vanished for twelve, fourteen hours. yhen he’d return with a blurry photo of a skyline or a vending machine or a cat on a motorbike.

still alive, he'd caption. barely.

you got used to waiting. But never too long.

until one day, he just stopped replying.

you’d sent a photo of your dinner, captioned You’d hate this, because it was drenched in mayonnaise and he had strong opinions about condiments.

no reply.

you checked the message again the next morning. still delivered. still unread.

the next day. still nothing.

you waited a week before trying again. a soft message. a half-hearted joke. a photo of your cat looking unimpressed by your playlist.

then the check sign beside the message, as you had realized, only showed one. it wasn’t delivered. 

blocked.

you stared at the screen. closed the app. opened it again. tried from your laptop, in case it was a glitch.

but it wasn’t.

you didn’t cry. not right away, at least,

you sat on your bed, the last voice note still sitting there, unopened. his last words were something dumb and sweet, something about seeing a dog wearing shoes and thinking of you. the screen stared back, blank and final, and for a while, you just sat there in disbelief.

you told yourself it was fine. you barely knew him. three nights. Some messages. a few hours of shared breath. that was all. hell, he was a stranger. you told yourself all this in the mirror.

but then days passed, and the habit didn’t fade. your fingers still hovered over your phone when you were walking home. you still found yourself typing his name into the search bar, knowing you wouldn’t find anything. you still opened the messages, scrolling up slowly, watching the screen load his jokes, his questions, the little audio clips where his voice was soft and tired but always there.

and then one night, somewhere between one a.m. and a glass of wine too many, it cracked.

you started rereading your replies. the way you’d laughed in text. the pictures you’d sent him: your coffee, the bookstore cat, a sunset that reminded you of that last night in tokyo. you remembered what it felt like to sit across from him. how light your body felt when he was near. how safe.

and slowly, the logic of it all dissipated.

he was a stranger, yes. but he had seen you—really seen you—in a way no one else had for a long time. and you had let him. willingly. easily.

that was when it started to hurt. sharp, slow, and deep. like a bruise blooming in your chest.

you didn’t delete the messages. you couldn’t. so you did the only thing you could do.

you stopped looking at it.

you taught yourself to stop waiting.

or at least, you tried.

....AND REPEAT

It was 11:03 p.m. when your phone buzzed.

you were curled up on the couch, an old hoodie draped over your knees, the television screen paused on something you weren’t really watching. outside, the night hummed quietly, the kind of silence only small towns knew. You hadn’t been expecting anything—least of all a message from a number that had been long deleted but never quite forgotten. it has been exactly a year, the exact same month, may.

a message.

just a photo.

you blinked, stared, breath stalling somewhere in your chest.

the bookstore. your bookstore.

the one on the corner of your street, where the green awning had faded in the sun and the sleepy white cat had made the windowsill its permanent throne. the light was on, casting a soft yellow pool onto the sidewalk. the street was empty, silent. familiar in a way that made your heart ache.

you stared at the photo for a full minute, maybe longer. It felt like memory and dream and disbelief all at once. your fingers hovered above the keyboard.

then you typed,

where are you?

his reply came seconds later,

outside. want to walk?

your heart kicked into a pace that was at once wild and steady.

you slipped on your shoes, barely remembered to grab your keys, and stepped out.

when you turned to the street, he was there.

leaning casually against the lamppost across from the bookstore. hands deep in his coat pockets. that same ridiculous umbrella—the bright polka-dotted one—looped lazily over his wrist. His hair was longer now, tied back messily, and he wore glasses tonight. But his face—the sharp line of his jaw, the quiet curve of his mouth, and those eyes, impossibly pale even in the dark—hadn’t changed.

for a beat, you just stood there. watching. trying to understand.

“hey,” he said.

that was all.

and somehow, that was enough.

you didn’t ask why. you didn’t ask where he’d been, or why he’d disappeared, or why it had to be like this. because some questions—when they finally get their moment—don’t feel like questions anymore.

instead, you walked.

for three nights, he stayed.

you showed him you.

the river path where you used to run when you needed to breathe. the noodle stall tucked between two faded buildings, where the old man behind the counter still remembered your favorite order. yhe tiny bookstore where you’d once spent hours reading poetry in the aisle. the hill behind your childhood home where the city lights blinked in the distance like stars trying to reach the earth.

he didn’t speak much the first night. but he listened—really listened. like the space between your words mattered. like he’d missed even the silence of you.

you talked, eventually. about life after tokyo. about how it had felt like waking up from a dream you didn’t want to end. you told him how your job kept you tired but steady, how sometimes you still walked late at night hoping for something to stir in the air. you told him how you tried to forget. tried not to check your phone at two in the morning. failed.

he told you about the places he’d been. the people he couldn’t name. the nights that bled into days. the weight. the solitude. how there were moments he wanted to reach out—more than he could count—but didn’t.

“i wanted to protect you from it,” he said on the third night.

you sat side by side by the lake just outside town, the water catching the light in soft shimmers, your shoulders brushing with every breath.

“from what?” you asked, even though you knew.

“from me.”

you turned to him. really looked at him. there were new shadows around his eyes. new lines drawn into his expression. but there was still a softness, buried under the weight. a familiar one.

“you didn't have to come” you said quietly.

“i know."

“but you’re here.”

“i wanted you to know i came back.”

you reached for his hand. found it already reaching for yours.

the kiss wasn’t dramatic. It was just… soft. familiar. the kind of kiss that belongs to memory but lives in the present. his lips were cold from the night, but his hand was warm where it held your jaw, thumb brushing slow and careful. you kissed like people who knew it wouldn’t last, but still couldn’t help needing it.

when he pulled back, he pressed his forehead to yours. breathed you in.

“thank you,” he whispered.

“for what?”

“for making it real again.”

then he left before dawn.

you didn’t ask him to stay. you stood on your porch and watched him walk away, the polka-dotted umbrella swinging gently in his hand. you didn’t cry. not this time.

some stories loop. not perfectly. not endlessly. but enough.

maybe for now.

[tcoaal]

What's your take on the thought Andrew and Ashley were born sociopaths and doomed from the beginning?

is this a take people actually have??? anyways: ableist as fuck lmao

i am of the very strong opinion Ashley is absolutely neurodivergent with both autism and ASPD. admittingly the former is something i have a tendency to do and i won't necessarily die on the hill: something that really fascinated me in scenes in Chapter 3A is how Ashley just sincerely does not seem to understand social norms that should be obvious to anyone else. various scenes in her childhood, and especially with the campers while obviously not in the same level kinda resonated with experiences with not understanding social norms me and my brother struggled with growing up.

but also i admittingly hc and project this a lot on socially awkward characters so take that part with a grain of salt and it's not really a hill i'm willing to go die on or debate especially when i think ASPD and BPD are bigger issues with her. i highly doubt any of these terms will actually come up in the game and it will remain a headcanon, but the idea that anyone can be "born" evil and a sociopath or whatever is nonsense lmao. this is a fictional game so if we learn time travel black magic whatever influenced Andrew's and Ashley's births somehow (like the twins in Clock Tower) i really reject that.

the Graves siblings are fucked up and dysfunctional because they were born into an abusive household with absolutely nobody to rely on except eachother: something both parents encouraged and forced on them. while i do think both being neurodivergent had a part in it, it's pretty clear in the game, in the promotional images even that the root of their issues is a fucked up co-dependency forever sealed in stone by a super fucked up incident (and it was an accident, they did not intend to kill Nina, this is important and a lot of people overlook this wasn't an intentional murder carried out by psychopaths) and the oath taken between two children and the refusal of the parents to care or do anything about it.

if the Graves were a genuinely loving, happy family: Ashley's and Andrew's mental health situations would be better off. even if they are neurodivergent and mentally ill they would have access to proper support, medication, therapy, and perhaps most importantly the comfort of a parent's love more instead of a fucked up relationship between a brothermotherhusband and a sisterwife. i think Ashley would be struggling a lot worse, but they'd be better.

i think the fact that in 3A we see Leyley literally react in flashbacks actively disturbed that she could just so casually admit to something so terrible. Leyley was actively disturbed and distressed about the fact she could so casually admit to killing someone and not care about it. she tries to confide in Andy but he falls asleep and that to me, more than anything, is the moment that sets everything about the woman she would become into stone. i genuinely think if Renee or even Andy (even though that was not his responsibility) made a genuine attempt to reach out in that moment and improve things (although if it was only the other Actual Child trying to help it probably wouldn't have been enough)

everything in TCOAAL is pretty explicit the root of the sibling's problems is based in a toxic codependence, not that they were evil from birth or some shit like that. i can handwave it if magic or prophecy is involved but if not i fucking hate this take in all media so much it's unreal

EDIT: i'd like to get more of my points clarified, actually

Nemlei's own view of the game is very clear she approaches this from a place of the effect of abuse of the environment has on a child. things like Ashley being autistic and aspd are headcanons of mine: but Nemlei herself would disagree with me saying that's how i should view it and that be the end-all. she is explicit this is a case of cause and effect of in-universe events, not any result of being born a certain way. this is a critical component of Nemlei's writing, given the lore of how the color of one's soul works and how one views themself. this is one of the most critical core components of the lore.

Ashley and Andrew weren't born fucked up. they were fucked up because of the environment that nurtured them. i will die on this hill, and it is the hill that Nemlei seems to view for her fiction. this is like, one of the more important takes to the themes of the story. i'm usually someone that views word of god as secondary to what is presented in the text, but this is a really important piece of information in this story.

Nemlei's narrative isn't about the idea the two were born evil or anything, it's that the awful people they became was shaped by the environment around them. i think that's important.

[bijoutarot]

Your Next Twin Flame Connection ✨

Pick an Image ✨

��� Ready to uncover the magic of your next twin flame connection? The cards have spoken, and the universe is sending you a clear message! This reading will guide you toward what’s ahead in your twin flame journey. Let’s explore what energies are coming your way. 💫

🔮 Reading Image 1: The Lovers 🔮

Soul-Aligned Union

The Lovers card is a powerful symbol of unity, deep connection, and choice. When it comes to your next twin flame, this will be a relationship that feels destined. From the moment you meet, you’ll sense an undeniable pull, as though you’ve known each other for lifetimes. This connection will challenge you to look inward and embrace your authentic self, but it will also offer profound love and mutual respect. The path to union may involve important choices—will you let fear or trust guide you? Expect passion, but also emotional and spiritual growth. 💖

✨ Message: You and your twin flame are two halves of a greater whole, coming together to create something powerful. Trust the bond, and let it unfold naturally.

🔮 Reading Image 2: The Tower 🔮

Sudden Change and Awakening

The Tower is a card of disruption, but it’s also a catalyst for transformation. When it comes to your twin flame, this connection will not be like any other. It might arrive when you least expect it, shaking up your life in ways that feel uncomfortable at first. But don’t be afraid—this upheaval is exactly what you need. It’s clearing away old beliefs, toxic patterns, and any illusions you’ve held about love, allowing you both to rebuild from a place of truth. The rawness and intensity of this connection will force both of you to confront deep fears, but in doing so, you’ll reach a deeper level of intimacy and understanding. ⚡

✨ Message: Trust the process, even if it seems chaotic at first. Sometimes destruction is necessary for growth. Your twin flame will be the one who helps you tear down walls to make space for true love.

🔮 Reading Image 3: The High Priestess 🔮

Intuition and Mystical Connection

The High Priestess is the guardian of intuition, secrets, and divine wisdom. When you meet your twin flame, this connection will be deeply intuitive, as though you’re both reading each other’s souls. You may feel an instant recognition—a sense of déjà vu, as if you’ve known them forever. The relationship will not always be obvious, and there may be periods of silence or mystery where you must rely on your inner knowing. There’s a sense of sacredness to this union, one that can’t always be explained logically. Trust what you feel in your heart, even if the external world doesn’t yet reflect it. 🌙

✨ Message: Listen to your intuition—it will guide you through the mysteries of this connection. Your twin flame will bring a sense of magic and spiritual depth into your life.

🔮 Reading Image 4: The Star 🔮

Hope, Healing, and Renewal

The Star is a card of hope, healing, and divine guidance. This card suggests that your twin flame connection will be a source of incredible emotional healing. When you meet them, you’ll feel as though a weight has been lifted from your soul. Both of you will bring light to each other’s darkness, healing old wounds and helping one another rediscover hope. This union is not just about romance—it’s about spiritual renewal, opening your hearts to the possibility of a new beginning. The Star promises that this connection will inspire you to be your best self and encourage you both to dream big and follow your soul’s true path. ✨

✨ Message: This connection is a gift from the universe. It’s about renewal, healing, and the power of unconditional love. You’ll feel like a better version of yourself, simply by being in each other’s presence.

🌙 Final Message:

Your next twin flame connection is here to awaken you, challenge you, and help you heal. While it may not always be smooth, it will be deeply transformative. Trust the journey, trust the love, and most importantly—trust yourself. 💫

💌 Share your thoughts below! Does this reading resonate with you? What part of your twin flame journey are you currently experiencing? ✨🌙

[jobeisbae]

jobe bellingham x mom!reader

summary: jobe bellingham and his wife navigate the joyful chaos of daily life with their two-year-old twins, balancing professional commitments and parenting with love and teamwork. From morning wake-ups to bedtime routines, every moment is filled with love, laughter, and a touch of exhaustion.

warnings: none

The day began early, as it always did with two-year-olds. You were awakened by the soft, insistent cries of one of the twins over the baby monitor. Jobe stirred beside you, already reaching for his phone to check the time.

“I’ll get them,” he murmured, planting a quick kiss on your forehead before slipping out of bed.

You stretched, listening to the familiar sounds of Jobe soothing one of the twins, while the other soon joined in the chorus. Smiling, you got up and made your way to the nursery, where Jobe was already changing diapers.

“Good morning, my little loves,” you cooed, lifting your daughter out of her crib. Her giggles were music to your ears, a perfect start to the day.

Jobe handed you a freshly changed son, and you both headed downstairs, twins in tow. Breakfast was a team effort—Jobe prepared the twins’ oatmeal and fruit while you made coffee and toast for yourselves.

With everyone seated around the kitchen table, you and Jobe took turns feeding the twins and stealing bites of your own breakfast. Laughter and tiny messes filled the room, setting a cheerful tone for the day ahead.

After breakfast, Jobe headed out for training, promising to be back by lunchtime. You spent the morning engaging the twins with playtime, storybooks, and a bit of creative chaos. They were particularly fond of building block towers only to knock them down with squeals of delight.

Around mid-morning, you managed to fit in some work, responding to emails and planning content while the twins napped. The house was blissfully quiet for an hour, allowing you to focus.

Jobe returned home just as the twins woke up, their sleepy faces lighting up at the sight of him. “Daddy’s home!” you announced, watching them toddle over to him with outstretched arms.

Lunchtime was another family affair, with sandwiches, fruit, and lots of chatter. Jobe shared stories from his training session while you updated him on the twins’ morning adventures.

After lunch, you both took the twins to the park, enjoying the fresh air and watching them explore the playground. Jobe pushed them on the swings while you captured the precious moments on your phone, memories to cherish forever.

Back home, it was nap time for the twins again. This gave you and Jobe a rare moment of peace. You cuddled on the couch, catching up on a favorite show or simply enjoying each other’s company in comfortable silence.

Once the twins woke up, it was time for more play and a bit of screen time with their favorite educational shows. You prepped dinner while Jobe kept them entertained, the house filled with the sounds of playful giggles and the occasional sibling squabble.

Dinner was a lively event, with the twins eagerly trying new foods and sharing their delight with every bite. You and Jobe took turns eating and managing the occasional spill, the routine now a well-practiced dance of parenthood.

After dinner, it was bath time. The twins loved splashing in the tub, and you and Jobe relished the chance to make it a fun, bonding experience. With the twins clean and wrapped in fluffy towels, you headed to their room for storytime.

Jobe read their favorite book while you tucked them in, the soothing rhythm of his voice lulling them into drowsiness. You both kissed them goodnight, watching as they drifted off to sleep.

With the twins finally asleep, you and Jobe retreated to the living room. You shared a quiet, intimate dinner, reflecting on the day and planning for the next. The exhaustion of the day melted away in the comfort of each other’s presence.

“Another successful day,” Jobe said, pulling you close as you settled on the couch.

“Couldn’t do it without you,” you replied, resting your head on his shoulder.

After some much-needed relaxation, you both headed to bed, ready to recharge for another day of joyful chaos with your little ones. As you drifted off to sleep, you felt content, knowing that together, you and Jobe were creating a loving, happy home for your family.

[vnhiuetsjohfgodovsifjldkfjvmf]

to be clear i do not place any stock whatsoever in 9/11 conspiracy. that said it is kinda insane how many pieces of media pre-9/11 were like "ah, the twin towers, our grand landmarks that will surely be here forever and which will always define the new york skyline in perpetuity." like on god they jinxed those buildings to death

[simplyzeeka]

The Flavours Series presents:

Ft. Terry Richmond x black!oc (Vanessa)

Warnings: Suggestive language.

Summary: In which Terry finds love in vanilla beans.

Terrence Richmond had always been a sucker for all things sweet, smooth and persistent. This was why anything vanilla flavoured instantly became a favourite.

Especially why he didn't take too long to turn Vanessa Mwangi into his forever woman. Into Vanessa Mwamgi-Richmond

She was everything vanilla. Tender with a firm grip that kept a hold on you for so long, yet you never seem to mind. Quite frankly, he loved the silent flavour more when it danced across her supple skin and sang tantalizing notes into his ear everytime he breathed the air around her.

He would tell you that everyone would testify to his statement. Stand firm in his belief that his wife is that most gracious woman to walk this ridden earth. A shame for her, but a blessing for all he would add shortly after.

Terry loved her with such an unshakeable force since middle school together, loved her even more in highschool. He didn't think it was possible to love her anymore, thought he had already called his heart- theirs. Signed, sealed and stolen.

Until she fell pregnant, she was still only his girlfriend when they'd found out, and so young. Barely even 23 and still had a year of college ahead of her. The announcement threw them off the loop, but that didn't deter Terry.

He knew right then that he had to marry this woman, not just because she was pregnant. Hell if it were up to him they would've been married since before that, yet he promised to respect her wishes of getting a degree first.

But he also promised to respect her wishes to give Vanessa his last name before their baby, and so he did just that. Quickly organised a small, comfortable wedding as the stresses of university and work washed by them.

The wedding did happen. Barely, as Vanessa had nearly cancelled the whole ceremony at so many occasions with the idea to quickly elope. ‘Only wanted his last name, the diamond and the wedding could wait.’ she would quote.

Labour came earlier than expected because apparently, fraternal twins can get a little crowded and impatient.

Abelle and Asha were the best things that ever happened to the couple.

And now, happier than ever. Yet another baby on the way, Terry hears, smells and tastes vanilla notes at every corner of the house. Especially when he hears her voice.

“Bad ass kids, they just broke the fire hydrant. Dancing around the street like they have lost their minds.” Vanessa Fussed as she waddled into the kitchen and straight for the fridge.

Terry sat on the counter, a glass of ice water in his hands as he watched with a evident curl of his lips. A soft, glistening sheen of sweat stuck to him like second skin. “It's hot, let ‘em have it.”

“Whatever, you're always speaking for them. I can't bend down, can you get the ice pops in there.” She pointed to the lower drawers of the fridge. Heavy panting from the struggling she was doing just moments ago.

Terry happily obliged, hopped off the counter eagerly. “You had three already, V. That can't be good for my baby.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes, hands planted on her hips before she took the large plastic of ice popsicles she made the night prior. “Well tell your big-headed baby to get out. Rent is passed due. I'm doing squats to kick her out. Tonight.” She said, pressing down the t's.

“And these aren't for me. Give these two to Tower and Terror up there. They have an attitude with me. I'm gonna give these to the neighbourhood kids. It's hot as hell today, I can feel it in the crack of my ass.” Vanessa just continued on fussing, sliding two popsicles to Terry to give to their children.

“My baby's head is not big. She's just gonna be smart like her daddy. Give me a kiss before you go.” He puckered his lips as he grabbed the cold treats for the twins upstairs.

Vanessa smiled brightly and leaned in to leave one peck followed by a generous amount of more. Her hand held his jaw, what was once an innocent kiss turned into a sloppy mess of tongues dancing.

Terry hummed, one hand on her hip as his body moved naturally to cage her back against the counter. He squeezed her supple flesh when he felt her suck onto his lower lip, teeth not-so-softly nipping at the skin.

“That's what got you walking around pregnant.” He mumbled against her lips and Vanessa smiled against his.

She left a few more pecks before pulling away slightly. “Please, as if you're any good at pulling out.” She turned around and grabbed the plastic bag of slowly melting popsicles off the counter before swinging her free hand to smack Terry's butt. “Go help my kids cool down.”

With a small frown, Terry shook his head. The corners of his lips curving downwards. “Vanessa, stop doing that, seriously. That's the fourth time this week. We have this conversation every other day.” His voice filtered off as she waddled out the door.

“Come get popsicles you guys. Yolanda! Get off that damn fence, cause if that dog bite you, you'll be crying.”

She ignored her husband's fussing and tended to the soaking children playing under the hot summer sun.

Majority of their day was spent like this. Vanessa lounging on the chair by her porch, rubbing on her swollen belly.

Terry helped the twins finish the week's homework before allowing them out to play with their friends in the boisterous streets.

And soon, it was just them, two wine glasses filled with grape juice because Vanessa missed drinking wine. So now, she was stuck with just the illusion.

Her legs stretched over Terry’s lap, who occasionally fed his wife some salty popcorn as they watched a cheesy lifetime movie, per his reluctance.

However, the movie was long abandoned, humming comfortably in the background of the couple's chatter.

The kids were asleep earlier than usual. Thanks to the energy they burnt earlier on that day. Which left Terry under Vanessa's undivided attention.

As much as he loved their children, and he really did. Would die for them. Nobody could have prepared him for how much harder it would be to have Vanessa to herself, as his wife and not the mother of his children. Cause Lord knew that was a 25/8 job, no day offs.

If one kid wasn't crying because they fell, the other was throwing a tantrum because they didn't get their way. Sometimes they would sneak into bed trying to be close to their mother, forcing Terry to cling on the edge of the bed to keep from falling.

Times like this were more than appreciated. Just her, and him. His vanilla bean.

“Terry, get your hands off my feet. How are they so cold in this heat?” Vanessa kicked at his hands with a giggle while wiggling her toes.

“I'm tryna warm them up but you won't let me.” He retorted. The bowl of popcorn, also abandoned as a prop on the round, wooden coffee table before he carefully lifted her leg to place a kiss on her calf. A few short hairs tickling his lips.

“Sir, please. Not on my sofa.” She laughed and shook her head as his kisses travelled up her legs. “Mr. Richmond, I'm serious.”

“I'm serious too. We've done worse on this sofa, girl.” His voice, soft muffles against her skin which did everything to entice him. “C’mon, give your man some sugar.”

It was always so smooth. Cocoa butter, vanilla and a hint of peach from her body care products. She had the whole house smelling like a bakery after every morning and night shower.

“You literally got some sugar this morning. I'm surprised your baby ain't pop out.” Vanessa's voice muffled out by a wide smile. He was now seated diagonally between her legs, one over his lap while the over behind his back as his hand rose up underneath the long skirt she wore.

“She knew I got some business to take care of. Ain't that right baby? Tell your mama you ain't no cock-blocker.” He kissed her stomach.

“Don't talk like that in front of her.” Vanessa playfully scolded and pinched his neck softly.

She watched Terry roll his eyes before tilting his head to the side, pressing his ear against her stomach and breath out.

Her hands instinctively rested on the back of his neck, caressing him lovingly. Vanessa ran the tip of her nails up and down the length of his back.

With her head rested on the backrest of the sofa, her eyes fluttered closed. Deep humming filled her ears, causing a small smile to stretch across her face.

She joined in when she recognized the melody of Forever Mine by the O'Jays. The very off tune harmony had Terry laughing and lifted his head only slightly so his chin propped on her belly.

He simply watched her hum the slow song off-key with her eyes closed.

“Vanessa noticed he stopped humming along and opened one eye to take a peak. “You judging my humming?” She asked and perked one brow.

Terry shook his head, eyes blown out in adoration. He shook his head silently. Hands out from her thighs, and now rubbing on the sides of her stomach.

“Then why you looking at me like that?” She whispered, top of row of teeth shining through her smile.

“I can't look at my wife?” Terry grinned.

Vanessa rolled her eyes, though a constant smile remained on her face. She swore her cheeks would always hurt when around this man. “Always got something smart to say.”

“You know what they say bout them birds and their feathers.” He quipped then winced when Vanessa pinched his neck. “You need to learn to keep those hands to yourself.”

“Then stop being so smart.” Vanessa argued, her words spilling through giggles.

“Can't do that. My head ain't big for no reason. I can't turn it off.” Terry dramatically sighed with a shrug.

He looked over at her as she laughed, trying to keep quiet so they wouldn't wake up the kids. Thin walls.

His smile softened, gaze locked intently while his eyes traced every imperfect perfections on her face. Dark moles spotting across her face, downturned eyes. Full, round face with lips that often took the shape of a love spell every time she said his name.

“I love you.” He told her randomly, biting through the playful energy with something a little more wholesome. “I'm so so in love with you.”

Vanessa blushed, as she always did. Cheesing like a fucking Cheshire cat. Her heart began thudding in her chest. Terry never failed to make her nervous. More than 5 years they've been together but she still feels like a highschooler with a teenage crush around him.

Nobody how old they got, their love remained the same. Young and so full of life. “Love you too, baby. With my heart and soul.” She responded breathily.

Terry smiled at her, still proud to see that he was able to get his woman to blush like this. He lived to make her happy and would stop at nothing to make sure he was the reason for her smiling every single day.

“You are my heart and soul. Till death, Vanilla bean. Matter fact, fuck that. I'ma haunt your ass when I die. Gonna keep the toilet seat up, the cutlery drawers open, the jar of juice on the counter. All that.” He joked while his eyes fluttered open and closed.

Vanessa nodded her head with a knowing smirk. “Already knowing. That's exactly why your kids are so bad. Get it from you. I found grey hairs on my head the other day. Cause of the three of y'all.” She rolled her eyes at the reminder. She remembered crying for nearly a whole hour after finding a single strand of grey hair after combing her hair. She didn't stop until Terry told her he'd always wanted to kiss a silver fox.

Terry opened his mouth to give a witty response, but they were interrupted by the sound of crying coming from upstairs.

Vanessa whistled and shook her head when she heard their daughter walk down the hallway and the stairs and stood with her blanket in her hand. Their son followed soon after, his father's deep mug on his face as he looked at his twin sister.

Terry groaned and looked over at them. “Y’all were supposed to be sleep. Doesn't look like you've been sleeping.”

“Daddy, Abelle broke my doll.” Asha, the daughter, was quick to point at her brother who shook his head.

“She broke my car first. Mama kept telling her to play with her own toys.” Abelle retorted and pointed right back at his sister.

“We're supposed to share the toys, dummy.” Asha’s tears were long forgotten as a frown planted on her face.

“Girls don't play with cars, dummy.”

Vanessa sighed before patting Terry and getting up. She held the bottom of her stomach and looked at the two children. “C’mon you two, it's late. Let's get you back in bed.”

But Asha wasn't trying to hear all that.

“Hold on mama, this is serious.” She lifted her hand towards her mom and in a split of a second a loud and chaotic argument broke between the 7 year olds.

Terry had his hand over his mouth. Holding back his laugh as his head went back and forth between the two. “Now that attitude, she gets from you. Hope my other baby girl is sweeter than y’all.”

“Shut up, T. I'm sweet.” Vanessa frowned and softly hit his shoulder.

“You take Asha, cause I ain't dealing with all that. I'm taking Abelle. Can't have one peaceful moment in this house. It's always something. Can't get some love or anything. Abelle, come on.” Vanessa stressed as she pulled Abelle up the stairs all while arguing with his sister.

Terry pulled Asha away to her bedroom while Vanessa took Abelle to his.

So much for some alone time with his wife. But honestly, Terry wouldn't have it any other way.

A/n: Hey.... lol

Okay, I know I said this, and I said that. But to be fair, it was a very stressful time, okay? The spiral was valid...😭😅

I was just being dramatic... I had my little breakdown and stuff. We're back now.

I should've known I couldn't stay away from my baby for too long.

Taglist: @blyffe @peachbutterfly-blog @browngirldominion @blackmoonchilee @megamindsecretlair @mogul93 @nayaesworld @cdotmvkspaz @zillasvilla @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @onherereading @transparentphantomface

[herrscherofinsanity]

Web of Hearts

Spider!Jimin being as subtle as a neon sign.

Fluff

Yu Jimin (Karina x fem!reader)

Word count: 5.6k

____________________

In the bustling city of Seoul, where towering skyscrapers touched the sky and the pulse of urban life echoed through every street, a new kind of hero emerged. Clad in a sleek red and black suit, Spiderwoman swung from building to building, keeping a watchful eye on the city she vowed to protect.

Yu Jimin, a seemingly ordinary woman by day, carried the weight of a secret identity. By night, she embraced her extraordinary abilities and became the guardian of Seoul. As Spiderwoman, she effortlessly swung through the cityscape, her agility and strength unmatched.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Jimin perched atop a high-rise building, scanning the city for any signs of trouble. Her enhanced senses picked up on a distant commotion, and with a graceful leap, she swung into action.

Down on the streets, chaos ensued as a group of villains wreaked havoc, terrorizing innocent civilians. Without hesitation, Spiderwoman descended upon the scene, her presence casting a shadow over the criminals.

"Looks like the party's over, gentlemen," she quipped, her voice laced with a confident edge.

The villains, startled by the sudden appearance of the city's masked guardian, prepared to face off against the formidable Spiderwoman. The confrontation unfolded in a series of acrobatic moves and swift strikes, showcasing Jimin's mastery of her newfound abilities.

As the last villain was apprehended, Spiderwoman turned to the gathered crowd, her mask concealing the determined glint in her eyes. "Fear not, citizens of Seoul. Spiderwoman is here to ensure your safety."

Word of the mysterious heroine spread across the city, capturing the imagination of its inhabitants. While Jimin navigated her daily life as an unassuming individual, she couldn't deny the thrill that came with her nightly escapades as Spiderwoman.

In a city where shadows concealed both villains and heroes, Jimin grappled with the responsibility that came with her extraordinary abilities. The balance between protecting the city and preserving her personal life became a delicate dance, and as the night sky witnessed her silent struggles, Seoul remained oblivious to the identity of its mysterious guardian, Spiderwoman.

____________________

It was move-in day at the college dorms, and the hallways buzzed with excitement and nervous energy. yn, lugging a heavy suitcase behind her, scanned the room numbers until she found hers: Room 302. With a deep breath, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The room was small but cozy, furnished with two twin beds, desks cluttered with textbooks, and a large window overlooking the campus grounds. yn's eyes landed on her new roommate, who was unpacking a box of books with an infectious smile on her face.

Jimin looked up and flashed a warm grin at yn. "Hey there! You must be my new roommate. I'm Yu Jimin. It's nice to meet you!"

yn returned the smile, instantly feeling at ease in Jimin's presence. "Hi, Jimin. I'm yn. Nice to meet you too."

And with that simple introduction, the bond between Jimin and yn began to form, setting the stage for the adventures that lay ahead. What yn didn’t know was that her quirky and endearing roommate held a secret that would change both of their lives forever.

____________________

After their initial meeting, Jimin and yn quickly settled into their roles as roommates. Jimin's bubbly personality and penchant for nerdy jokes brought a lightness to their shared space, while yn's calm and grounded demeanor provided a sense of stability.

As days turned into weeks, yn couldn't help but notice a peculiar pattern. Jimin seemed to have an uncanny knack for getting injured. Whether it was tripping over her own feet or accidentally bumping into furniture, Jimin always seemed to have a new bruise or scrape to show for it.

At first, yn brushed it off as Jimin just being incredibly clumsy. She would tease Jimin gently, offering band-aids and ice packs whenever Jimin came back from another misadventure.

But as time went on, yn couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to Jimin's frequent injuries. She noticed the way Jimin would tense up whenever yn asked about how she got hurt, quickly deflecting the conversation with a laugh or a joke.

yn's curiosity grew, and she began to pay closer attention to Jimin's behavior. She noticed how Jimin would sometimes slip out of their dorm room in the middle of the night, only to return hours later looking exhausted and worn out.

Despite her suspicions, yn didn't confront Jimin about her weird midnight escapades. Instead, she quietly observed, but the more she observed Jimin, the more confused she felt.

What on earth could her dorky roommate be up to?

____________________

Amidst the bustling city streets, chaos reigned as a gang of masked criminals wreaked havoc, their nefarious intentions casting a shadow of fear over the unsuspecting civilians. Amidst the chaos, a lone figure swung gracefully through the air, her lithe form a blur of crimson and black against the night sky.

Spiderwoman, as she was known to the citizens of the city, moved with fluid precision, her keen senses alert to the danger that lurked around every corner. With effortless grace, she leaped from building to building, her web-slinging abilities propelling her forward with astonishing speed.

As she closed in on the scene of the crime, Spiderwoman's senses tingled with anticipation, her heart pounding with adrenaline-fueled excitement. With a deft flick of her wrist, she shot a web line towards a nearby lamppost, swinging around it with practiced ease before landing gracefully on the ground below.

With a swift and decisive movement, Spiderwoman sprang into action, her movements a blur of acrobatic prowess as she dispatched her foes with precision and finesse. Her spider-like agility and lightning-fast reflexes left the criminals reeling, their futile attempts to strike back thwarted at every turn.

As the last of the criminals lay defeated at her feet, Spiderwoman allowed herself a brief moment of satisfaction before turning her attention back to her true objective. With a confident smirk, she shot a web line towards the nearest rooftop, launching herself into the air with a graceful leap.

Minutes later, Spiderwoman landed silently on the rooftop of the college dormitory she shared with yn, her heart racing with exhilaration from the night's events. With practiced stealth, she slipped through the window and into the darkness of her room, her secret identity safe for another day.

____________________

One evening, as yn was studying in the shared dorm room, she heard a loud crash coming from the living area. Startled, she rushed out to find Jimin sprawled on the floor, clutching her ankle in pain.

"Jimin, are you okay?"

Jimin winced as she attempted to sit up, her face contorted in pain. "I think I twisted my ankle. It hurts like crazy."

yn hurried to Jimin's side, helping her to sit up and inspecting the injury. Sure enough, Jimin's ankle was swollen and bruised, a clear sign of a sprain.

yn tried to be as gentle as possible with her injured roommate, "let's get some ice on that ankle. I'll grab a cold pack from the freezer."

As yn tended to Jimin's injury, she couldn't help but notice how frequently her roommate seemed to get hurt. It was as if Jimin was a magnet for accidents, always finding herself in precarious situations that resulted in bumps, bruises, and sprains.

Despite her curiosity, yn didn't press Jimin for details about how she got hurt. Instead, she focused on providing comfort and support, knowing that her roommate needed her in moments like these.

As Jimin winced in pain, yn couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Jimin's injuries than met the eye. But for now, she pushed aside her suspicions and focused on helping her friend heal.

____________________

One afternoon, as yn returned to their dorm room after class, she absentmindedly pushed open the door without bothering to knock. To her surprise, she found Jimin standing shirtless in the middle of the room, a towel draped over her shoulders.

yn's eyes widened in surprise as she took in the sight of Jimin's bare torso, but her attention was quickly drawn to the large cut spanning across Jimin's back.

"Jimin, what the hell happened!? You're bleeding!" the younger girl shrieked.

Jimin jumped in surprise, hastily grabbing the towel to cover herself as she turned to face yn.

Jimin stammered, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. "Oh, uh, it's nothing. Just a little mishap while I was... uh, working out." Nailed it.

yn could see the discomfort in Jimin's expression as she hesitated to explain the true cause of her injury. Without another word, yn grabbed the first aid kit from their shared bathroom and motioned for Jimin to sit down on the bed.

"Let me take care of that for you. It looks pretty deep." Jimin felt herself freezing up at the soft look yn sent her way, she obediently walked towards her roommate.

As yn carefully cleaned and bandaged Jimin's wound, she couldn't help but notice the nervous energy radiating from her roommate. It was clear to yn that Jimin was hiding something, but she didn't press for answers, respecting Jimin's privacy.

As they sat in silence, the air thick with unspoken words, yn couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Jimin than met the eye. For now, she focused on helping her friend heal, unaware of the deeper feelings brewing beneath the surface.

As she finished wrapping up Jimin’s wound, yn couldn’t help but break the silence that enveloped them.

“You know…” yn began “you don’t have to tell me what actually happened, but I hate it when you get hurt. Please try to be more careful from now on, I can’t bare to see you in pain”. With those words yn got up to put away the first aid kit.

Jimin didn’t say anything, but she couldn’t deny that yn’s words had affected her in a way she couldn’t really describe. She couldn’t keep ignoring the butterflies she felt every time she locked eyes with yn.

____________________

Despite her best efforts to be subtle, Jimin's attempts at dropping hints about her developing feelings for yn were about as inconspicuous as a flashing neon sign. Whether it was lingering glances, awkward attempts at flirting, or fumbling over her words whenever yn was around, Jimin's attempts to express her affection were anything but discreet.

yn, however, wasn't oblivious to Jimin's antics. In fact, she found them rather endearing. She couldn't help but smile to herself whenever Jimin stumbled over her words or blushed furiously whenever their eyes met. yn appreciated Jimin's efforts, even if they weren't exactly subtle.

Despite her awareness of Jimin's feelings, yn decided to play along, enjoying the playful banter and the budding friendship between them. She didn't comment on Jimin's less-than-subtle approach, opting instead to let her roommate express herself in her own quirky way.

As they navigated the delicate dance of friendship and budding romance, yn couldn't help but feel a warmth blossom in her chest whenever she thought of Jimin. Maybe, just maybe, there was something more than friendship brewing between them, and yn was eager to see where their journey would take them.

____________________

("What do you think of superheroes?"

"Um, they're pretty cool, I guess. Why?"

"Oh, no reason. Just curious."

"Okay... Anyway, what's on your mind?"

"Oh, nothing important. Just, you know, hanging out with my favorite person."

"Smooth, Jimin."

"I try my best."

"Uh huh. Well, keep practicing."

"Ouch, right in the ego."

"Hey, you're the one who asked for honesty."

"True. Thanks for keeping me grounded, yn."

"Anytime, Jimin. Anytime.")

____________________

On a random afternoon as the two girls lounged on the couch, idly flipping through channels, they stumbled upon a news report about Spiderwoman. Jimin's heart skipped a beat as she watched, her secret identity suddenly thrust into the spotlight.

"Wow, Spiderwoman is so cool," yn commented, her eyes fixed on the screen. "She's pretty hot too..." she muttered more-so to herself, Jimin still heard her comment though.

Jimin tried to suppress the surge of excitement that bubbled up inside her at yn's words. She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks, her heart racing as she struggled to maintain her composure.

"Yeah, she's... uh, pretty cool," Jimin managed to mumble, her voice betraying her nerves.

As the report continued, Jimin couldn't tear her eyes away from the screen, her mind racing with a million thoughts. She stole a glance at yn out of the corner of her eye, her heart swelling with affection for the oblivious girl sitting beside her.

In that moment, Jimin realized just how much she cared about yn, and how badly she wished she could share her true identity with her. But the fear of rejection still held her back, casting a shadow over her burgeoning feelings.

As the news segment came to an end and the TV screen flickered to black, Jimin was left grappling with the turmoil of her emotions, uncertain of what the future held for her and yn.

____________________

("Are you made of copper and tellurium?"

"Uh, no? Why?"

"Because you're Cu-Te!"

"Oh, Jimin, that's... something."

"Yeah, I thought it was kind of nerdy but cute. Like me."

"Definitely cute. And modest too."

"Thanks. I'll take that as a win.")

____________________

“Hey Jimin? Do you think you can help me out with this subject?”

The question was innocent enough, nothing was supposed to happen between Jimin and yn, right?

Jimin and yn sat together in their cozy dorm room, the soft glow of the lamp casting warm shadows across the room. They had been studying for hours, their textbooks forgotten as their conversation drifted to more personal topics.

As the evening wore on, their proximity seemed to amplify the crackling tension between them. Jimin's heart raced as she stole glances at yn, her features illuminated by the gentle light. yn's laughter rang out, filling the room with its melodic cadence, and Jimin found herself captivated by the way yn's eyes sparkled with amusement.

With each passing moment, the air between them seemed to thicken with unspoken desire. Jimin's gaze lingered on yn's lips, the urge to lean in almost overwhelming. She could feel the heat of yn's breath against her skin, a tangible reminder of their closeness.

yn's fingers brushed against Jimin's hand, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through her veins. Their eyes met, a silent exchange of longing and yearning passing between them. In that fleeting moment, it felt as if the rest of the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of them suspended in time.

As Jimin and yn found themselves drawn closer together, the tension between them palpable, it seemed as if the world around them faded into the background. Their gazes locked, inches apart, their lips mere moments away from touching in a long-awaited kiss.

But just as they leaned in, on the precipice of that anticipated connection, Jimin's heightened senses kicked in. A familiar tingle crept up her spine, a warning sign that duty called. A new crime awaited Spiderwoman's intervention, pulling her away from the brink of intimacy with yn.

With a heavy heart, Jimin reluctantly pulled back, the disappointment evident in both their eyes. Yn's expression mirrored Jimin's own sense of longing, the momentary promise of closeness snatched away by the demands of Jimin's secret life as Spiderwoman.

Their interrupted moment hung in the air, charged with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires. Though duty called Jimin away, the memory of their almost-kiss lingered, a tantalizing glimpse of what could have been, leaving both girls yearning for the day they could pick up where they left off.

--

Somehow the almost kiss made Jimin even more awkward than she already was. Jimin didn’t know how to behave around yn. Should she keep her distance? Should she seize the day and kiss the girl? One thing was for sure, she wanted her roommate badly.

Jimin's heart skipped a beat as yn emerged from the bathroom, clad only in a towel. She tried to focus on her textbook, but her eyes kept drifting back to her roommate's figure. yn seemed oblivious to Jimin's internal struggle as she nonchalantly rummaged through her wardrobe for something to wear.

Jimin cleared her throat, attempting to regain her composure. "Uh, yn, do you need help finding something?"

yn turned to her, a playful grin on her lips. "No, I'm good, thanks. Just trying to decide what to wear for tonight." yn knew perfectly what kind of effect she had on Jimin and she planned to use it to her advantage.

Jimin nodded, unable to tear her gaze away. "Right, yeah, you look... um, nice."

yn giggled, seemingly unfazed by Jimin's flustered state. " In nothing but a towel? Wow. Thanks, Jimin. You're sweet."

As yn finally settled on an outfit and disappeared into her room, Jimin let out a shaky breath, grateful for the temporary reprieve. Being roommates with yn was both a blessing and a curse, especially when moments like this left her feeling more than a little flustered.

____________________

("Are you a magician, yn?"

"No, why?"

"Because whenever I look at you, everyone else disappears."

"Smooth, Jimin."

"I try my best. So, do I get a round of applause for that one?"

"You definitely get points for creativity."

"Well, I'm glad you appreciate my efforts."

"I appreciate the entertainment, that's for sure."

"I'll take what I can get. Maybe next time I'll pull a rabbit out of a hat or something."

"Looking forward to it.")

____________________

As the night enveloped the city in its dark embrace, yn found herself walking alone, lost in her own thoughts. Unbeknownst to her, danger lurked in the shadows, waiting to strike. Suddenly, a group of masked assailants emerged from the darkness, their intentions menacing and clear.

yn's heart pounded in her chest as fear gripped her, her instincts urging her to flee, but before she could react, a figure swooped down from above, a blur of red and black, swiftly dispatching yn's would-be attackers with a flurry of punches and kicks.

In the chaos of the moment, yn barely registered what was happening, her mind consumed by a whirlwind of confusion and fear. But as the dust settled and her assailants lay defeated, she found herself face to face with her savior, the enigmatic figure who had appeared out of nowhere to rescue her.

Spiderwoman stood before her, her mask concealing her identity but her presence radiating strength and reassurance. yn's eyes widened in astonishment, a mix of awe and gratitude washing over her as she realized the magnitude of what had just occurred.

"Spiderwoman...” yn began, her voice barely above a whisper “You saved me."

"Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" Spiderwoman replied in an incredibly gentle tone. yn couldn’t shake off the fact that her gentleness felt familiar. Maybe it was a superhero thing.

yn shook her head, still reeling from the adrenaline rush of the encounter. Spiderwoman's concern was palpable, her eyes searching yn's face for any signs of injury or distress.

"I-I'm okay, thanks to you. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't shown up." The girl was clearly shaken, but she still tried to voice how grateful she was.

"Just doing my job. Stay safe out here, alright? And remember, if you ever need help, I'll be watching over you."

With that, Spiderwoman vanished into the night, leaving yn standing alone in the aftermath of the encounter. Though shaken by the ordeal, a newfound sense of reassurance settled over her, knowing that she had a guardian angel watching over her, even in the darkest of times.

--

As yn stepped back into the familiar surroundings of their dorm room, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of the encounter, she found Jimin sitting on her bed, a book in hand. Jimin looked up as yn entered, her eyes immediately drawn to the dreamy expression on her roommate's face.

"Hey, everything okay?" Perfect execution, Jimin!

yn, still caught in a daydream, replied to the best of her ability, "Oh, Jimin, you won't believe what just happened. I met Spiderwoman!"

Jimin's eyes widened in excitement, a grin spreading across her face at yn's words. She set her book aside, leaning forward eagerly as yn recounted the thrilling encounter with the mysterious superhero.

"No way! What was it like? Did she say anything to you?" You really are the perfect actress, Yu Jimin!

yn launched into a vivid retelling of the encounter, her words animated with the lingering rush of adrenaline and awe. She described Spiderwoman's swift intervention, her unwavering bravery in the face of danger, and the sense of reassurance she had instilled in yn with her presence.

"It was incredible, Jimin. I've never felt so safe and protected in my life." yn let out a dreamy sigh.

Jimin listened intently, her eyes shining with excitement as she hung on yn's every word. She couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at yn's reaction to meeting her alter ego, knowing that she had played a part in protecting and wooing her roommate.

"That's amazing, yn. I'm so glad you're okay. And hey, if you ever want to meet her again, just let me know. I might be able to arrange something." Smooth, Jimin! She’s finally yours!

yn smiled at Jimin's offer, grateful for her roommate's unwavering support and excitement. In that moment, as they shared the thrill of yn's encounter with Spiderwoman, their bond grew stronger than ever, united by a shared sense of wonder and admiration for the extraordinary hero in their midst.

However, yn didn’t know that this was only the first of many encounters she would share with Spiderwoman.

____________________

As yn made her way home through the quiet streets, the late hour casting elongated shadows across the pavement, she felt a sense of calm settle over her. She was lost in her thoughts, unaware of the vigilant figure watching over her from the rooftops above.

Suddenly, a familiar figure descended gracefully from the darkness, landing before yn with a quiet rustle of fabric. yn looked up in surprise, her eyes widening as she recognized the unmistakable silhouette of Spiderwoman.

"Spiderwoman! What a pleasant surprise." yn let out, she would be lying if she said she hadn’t been dreaming about this very moment.

"Hey there, yn. Just out for a stroll?" Spiderwoman said as casually as she could.

Wait… yn?

yn froze, her heart skipping a beat at the sound of her own name slipping past Spiderwoman's lips. She turned to her companion, her expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

yn nodded, feeling bewildered, returning Spiderwoman's smile as she fell into step beside her mysterious companion. They walked together in companionable silence for a while, the only sound the soft shuffle of their footsteps against the pavement. However, yn couldn’t brush off her surprise.

Why does she know my name?

Eventually, yn couldn't resist the urge to strike up a conversation, her curiosity piqued by the enigmatic figure at her side.

"So, Spiderwoman” yn said in an overly casual tone, “anything exciting happen tonight?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Just keeping an eye on the city." Spiderwoman said, trying her best to sound cool.

yn nodded, content to enjoy the peaceful camaraderie of their impromptu encounter. Still, she made sure to keep a close eye on her companion. Maybe she’ll let her guard down.

"So, yn..." Spiderwoman made a mistake. Again.

I got you now.

“Can I ask you a question, Spidey?”

Jimin is embarrassed by how fast her heart started beating after hearing yn refer to her by a nickname. “Sure, what’s up?”

“How did you know my name was yn? I never told you”.

Spiderwoman's mask hid the flicker of panic that flashed across her features at yn's question. She scrambled for a plausible explanation, her mind racing to come up with a convincing response.

"Um, well, you know, I, uh... I just happened to overhear it somewhere. Must have slipped out accidentally."

yn studied Spiderwoman's masked visage intently, a lingering sense of suspicion nagging at the back of her mind. However, she chose to let the matter drop for now, unwilling to push her mysterious companion any further. She is sure she’ll get her chance sooner rather than later.

"Ah, got it. Well, thanks for the company, Spiderwoman. It's always nice to have someone to walk with." She smiled in a way that gave Jimin a heart attack for a million different reasons.

"Anytime, yn. Take care on your way home." Nailed it.

With a final wave, Spiderwoman melted back into the shadows, leaving yn to ponder the intriguing encounter as she continued on her journey homeward. Despite the unanswered questions lingering in her mind, she couldn't deny the sense of comfort and reassurance that Spiderwoman's presence had brought her on this dark and lonely night.

--

yn stepped through the door of the dormitory, her mind still reeling from her encounter with Spiderwoman. As she entered the familiar surroundings of their shared living space, she was greeted by the sight of Jimin sitting on the couch, a playful glint in her eye.

"Hey there, yn! How was your walk?" Jimin said cheerfully.

yn's lips quirked into a knowing smile as she regarded her roommate, her suspicions about Spiderwoman's true identity suddenly crystallizing into certainty. She decided to play along for now, relishing the opportunity to keep Jimin's secret while she plotted her next move.

"Oh, you know, nothing out of the ordinary. Although I did run into someone interesting on the way back." A slight smirk playing at her lips.

Jimin's eyes widened slightly at yn's cryptic remark, a hint of apprehension flickering across her features before she quickly masked it with an easy grin.

"Oh yeah? Who'd you meet?"

yn leaned against the doorframe, her expression enigmatic as she met Jimin's gaze head-on. Let’s see you try to get out of this one, Spidey.

"Let's just say she's someone who knows how to keep the city safe, even late at night."

Jimin's breath caught in her throat, a surge of panic coursing through her veins at yn's words. She struggled to maintain her composure, her mind racing to concoct a plausible explanation for her alter ego's unexpected appearance in their conversation.

"Ha, lucky you, running into interesting people all the time!” Jimin let out an awkward laugh. “You'll have to introduce me sometime."

yn's smirk widened into a knowing grin as she watched Jimin squirm under the weight of her unspoken revelation. She made a mental note to bide her time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to confront Jimin head on.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm sure you'll meet her soon enough." With that tantalizing promise hanging in the air, yn sauntered off to her room, leaving Jimin to grapple with the unsettling realization that her carefully guarded secret might not be safe for much longer.

Maybe you’re not the perfect actress, Yu Jimin.

____________________

Okay, time to do something stupid!

yn stood defiantly in the dimly lit alley, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for the inevitable. She knew she was treading on dangerous ground, playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse with her roommate-turned-superhero. But she couldn't resist the thrill of the chase, the exhilarating rush of adrenaline that coursed through her veins as she knowingly put herself in harm's way.

As she glanced nervously around the shadowy confines of the alley, she caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye. Seconds later, Spiderwoman materialized out of the darkness, her lithe figure cutting a striking silhouette against the night sky.

"yn, what are you doing here? It's not safe!" Spiderwoman exclaimed, her voice dripping with concern.

yn met Spiderwoman's concerned gaze with a defiant glint in her eye, her resolve unyielding as she faced the repercussions of her reckless actions head-on.

"I knew you'd come. I needed to prove a point."

Spiderwoman's brow furrowed in frustration, her voice tinged with exasperation as she chided yn for her foolhardy behavior.

"You can't go around doing stuff like this, yn! You're putting yourself in unnecessary danger. What if something had happened to you?" Spiderwoman said, her frustration skyrocketing. “What if I wasn’t her to protect you, huh? You’re acting like a toddler”.

yn bristled at Spiderwoman's stern tone, her own temper flaring as she pushed back against the other girl's unwavering concern.

"Yu Jimin, enough! Stop treating me like a child. I know exactly what I’m doing."

What?

The words hung heavy in the air between them, a palpable tension crackling with the weight of unspoken truths. In that fleeting moment, Spiderwoman's mask of stoicism slipped, revealing the vulnerable girl beneath the facade.

Spiderwoman's eyes widened in shock at the sound of her real name on yn's lips, her heart skipping a beat as she grappled with the sudden shift in dynamics between them. In that brief, poignant moment, the boundaries that had once defined their relationship blurred, leaving behind a lingering sense of uncertainty and unspoken desires.

Jimin's heart pounded erratically in her chest as she watched yn's expression soften, her eyes brimming with unspoken affection. She couldn't believe she had let slip her secret identity, couldn't fathom the repercussions of her reckless actions. But as yn's gaze met hers with unwavering warmth, Jimin felt a flicker of hope ignite within her, a glimmer of possibility in the midst of uncertainty.

"How... How did you find out?" Jimin’s voice barely above a whisper.

yn's smile was gentle, her voice infused with a quiet reassurance as she met Jimin's gaze with unwavering sincerity. "I noticed the little things, the way you always seem to disappear whenever trouble arises, the injuries that miraculously heal overnight. And then there was that slip-up with my name."

Jimin's shoulders sagged with relief at yn's honest confession, her heart swelling with gratitude for the other girl's unwavering acceptance.

"I'm sorry, yn. I never meant to keep this from you. I just... I didn't know how to tell you." Jimin felt like she could cry, she was feeling too much at the moment. Oh brother, I need to lie down.

yn reached out to gently cup Jimin's cheek, her touch tender and reassuring as she offered the other girl a small, understanding smile.

"It's okay, Jimin. I understand. But from now on, let's promise to be honest with each other, no matter what." yn’s smile gave Jimin hope. For the first time, Jimin felt like everything was going to be okay.

Jimin nodded fervently, her heart overflowing with gratitude for yn's unwavering support. As the weight of secrecy lifted from her shoulders, Jimin felt a renewed sense of longing blossom within her, a newfound courage to embrace the vulnerabilities that lay bare between them.

"Thank you, yn. How can I make it up to you?"

yn's smile widened into a mischievous grin as she reached out to delicately trace the contours of Jimin's mask, her touch sending shivers down the other girl's spine.

"I think I have an idea." yn lowered her voice, a smirk on her lips.

With a deft motion, yn carefully pulled away Jimin's mask, revealing the vulnerable girl beneath the facade. In that moment of unspoken intimacy, Jimin felt the walls that had once separated them crumble away, leaving behind an undeniable connection that transcended the boundaries of secrecy and fear.

As their lips finally met in a long-awaited kiss, the world around them faded into obscurity, leaving only the raw, unfiltered emotion that pulsed between them. In that fleeting moment of shared vulnerability, Jimin and yn found solace in each other's arms, daring to believe that love might just conquer all.

____________________

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and Jimin and yn had decided to spend the day together at their shared dorm room. As they lounged on the couch, Jimin scrolled through her phone while yn leaned against her, idly playing with Jimin's hair.

Suddenly, a breaking news alert flashed across the screen, announcing Spiderwoman's latest heroic feat. yn glanced up, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, as she nudged Jimin playfully. "Looks like your alter ego is making headlines again."

Jimin chuckled, leaning into yn's touch as she replied, "Yeah, she's always stealing the spotlight."

yn grinned, her fingers tracing lazy circles on Jimin's scalp as she teased, "I bet she's just trying to impress her girlfriend."

Jimin's cheeks flushed pink at the playful jab, but she couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. Wrapping an arm around yn, she pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Well, she's lucky to have such an amazing girlfriend." Jimin whispered against her girlfriend’s temple. Tease me all you want, at the end of the day you still agreed to be mine.

yn grinned, leaning into Jimin's embrace as she retorted, "Flattery will get you everywhere, Spidey."

The two of them dissolved into laughter, the playful banter a comforting reminder of the easy chemistry they shared. As they snuggled together on the couch, Jimin and yn savored the simple joy of being together, grateful for the love and laughter that filled their lives.

With Jimin's arm wrapped around her and the warmth of their shared affection enveloping them, yn couldn't help but feel like the luckiest person in the world. And as they basked in each other's company, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as they had each other, they could weather any storm.

____________________

("Are you a time traveler, yn?"

"No, why?"

"Because every time I look at you, I feel like I'm going back in time. To the moment I fell in love with you."

"Jimin..."

"Gotcha."

"You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"But you love me anyway, right?"

"Always.")

____________________

A/N: Here we go, spider Jimin! I had this sitting on my drafts for the longest time, but here it is. Thank you so much for reading!

I'm working on some requests and I might add a Valentine's Day special as well. It all depends on my schedule, I'm getting a new one tomorrow so we shall see how it goes. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, if you want to request something, feel free to let me know.

[didishawn]

Forever (Pau Cubarsí x reader)

Masterlist

warnings: really short, fluffy, a bit of reader's insecurities

You and your boyfriend might be young, but all your friends see your relationship like the one of an old married couple.

You met Pau back when the two of you were 12, your brother had just started living in La Masía, playing in the infantiles team as a goalkeeper.

You and your parents went to pick him up one day, and that's when he introduced you to his `bestest friend`-Pau.

Your twelve year old self found herself instantly crushing on the boy with pretty eyes and chubby cheeks who already towered over you back then.

And Pau too, found himself crushing hard on his best friend's twin sister.

Your brother-bless his heart- has always been a bit oblivious to this type of thing, so later on, once you met the boy and he realised what was going on, it was Lamine's task to get you and the centerback together.

It took him a while, and it was quite hard to get the shy boy to confess to you -Lamine's master plan a story for another story, but you and your gigantic boyfriend have been together since you two were 14.

Now you are 18, enjoying your boyfriend's drivers license for a beach day.

If only you two were alone...

From the boot of his car, you two watch Lamine and Hector run along the coast, passing a ball as the sun starts setting down.

His arm is around you as you cuddle against his chest, enjoying his warmth as you watch over your self proclaimed children -doesn't matter Hector is older that the two of you.

"I guess at least like this we are preparing pel futur" he suddenly speaks, his eyes not focused on his friends but on you.

Confused, you raise an eyebrow. "Preparing for the future?"

He hums, nodding. "Sí, for when we have our own kids," he grins, his face hiding on your neck and placing a gentle kiss on it. "Although I know our kids won't be so molestos"

You jokingly hit his chest, carelessly laughing. "Don't insult our kids like that!"

He rolls his eyes. "I can already tell you will be playing the good cop and I the bad cop when they arrive, will have to start practicing la meva cara de dolent"

"You are too cute to be the bad cop, Pau," you watch him for a moment. "I didn't know you planned having kids with me."

He looks at you, confused. "Who else would I have fills with?" you shrug your shoulders.

You love Pau, and you know he loves you too, but when your boyfriend suddenly becomes a worldwide star, it's only normal to become a bit insecure at the thought of some girl sweeping in and taking everything from you.

Pau has always been good at reading people-specially you. He knows exactly what's going on in your mind. He brings you impossibly closer.

"You are the girl of meva vida, have always been and always will be. Of course you are the mother of my kids"

His lips take yours. "T'estimo molt" he whispers into the kiss, hands cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss.

"Mare y pare traumatizing his kids."

You gasp and push him away, turning to face the two boys who have teasing glints on their eyes as they look at you and your boyfriend.

"Tenemos hambre" Lamine says, getting into the backseat as Hector follows closely, the two of you roll your eyes, walking to the front of the car.

"You two know we are not actually your parents, right?" you ask, settling into your passenger princess' seat as Pau starts his car.

"Gracias a mi estáis juntos, me tenéis que consentir." (thanks to me you are together, you have to coddle me)

"Almost 4 anys i segueix amb el mateix..." Pau sighs. (almost 4 years, and he still does the same thing...)

"Y seguirè hasta que me muera" he declares, proud of himself and Hector snickers. (and I will keep doing it until the day I die)

"Fucker"

The two on the back laugh at your complaint. Pau's hand settling into your thigh and caressing it.

You hope he is right, and that your future kids won't be as annoying as this two.

[knoepfl]

Maybe Less Than God

Characters:

1. Homelander

Antagonist/love interest. Volatile, powerful, deeply insecure.

2. The Reader (You)

Protagonist. Confident, nurturing, refuses to be intimidated or controlled.

Trigger Warnings

1. Emotional/psychological abuse

2. Threats of violence (laser vision, near-death moments)

3. Trauma and isolation

4. Power imbalance

5. Emotional manipulation

6. Mentions of death/harm

Masterlist

Words: 1580

---

The night air in Vought Tower felt heavy, oppressive, as though the weight of Homelander’s fury seeped into every corner of the penthouse. You stood at the entrance, unflinching, watching as he paced the room like a predator stalking prey. His cape billowed with each sharp turn, and his fists were clenched so tightly you swore you could hear the leather of his gloves straining.

“They think they can humiliate me,” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. “Me. On live TV. That bitch had the nerve to talk back.” He stopped mid-step, his piercing blue eyes locking onto you like a laser. “And you—”

You raised an eyebrow, standing your ground. “What about me?”

His lips curled into a sneer, and he began to advance. “You just sit there, watching. You think you’re any different? You think I don’t see the doubt in your eyes when I talk about what I’m owed? You’re just like the rest of them.”

“Careful,” you said evenly, your tone sharp but calm. “You’re not angry at me, Homelander. Don’t make me the target for your tantrum.”

The room seemed to grow colder as his expression darkened. “Tantrum?” he repeated, his voice dripping with venom. “I could kill you in an instant, you know. Wipe that smug look off your face forever.”

You took a step forward, closing the distance between you. “Then why don’t you? What’s stopping you, Homelander? Go ahead—prove you’re the god you think you are.”

His eyes narrowed, and for a split second, you thought you might have gone too far. He raised his head slightly, his jaw tightening as his eyes began to glow with that familiar, ominous red light.

The heat hit your skin immediately, prickling and almost unbearable as the twin beams crackled just inches from your face. You didn’t flinch, didn’t move, even as the heat singed the edge of your hair.

“Do it,” you said, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. “Burn me alive. Destroy the one person in your life who doesn’t lie to you.”

His jaw twitched, the light in his eyes flickering as his rage collided with something else—confusion, maybe, or doubt.

“I’m not scared of you,” you continued, your tone soft but unyielding. “You want to lash out at the world because it’s easier than admitting you’re scared. But deep down, you know you don’t want to hurt me. You just don’t know how to handle someone who won’t cower before you.”

“Shut up,” he growled, the beams dimming slightly.

“You can’t control me, Homelander,” you pressed, taking another step closer. “But that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? Because you don’t want another puppet. You want someone who sees you. The real you.”

His breathing was ragged now, the glow in his eyes fading completely as he stared at you, his expression a mix of anger, confusion, and something almost like desperation.

“I don’t need anyone,” he said, but his voice lacked its usual conviction.

“Maybe not,” you replied, reaching up to gently touch his face. He flinched but didn’t pull away. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t want someone. Someone who cares about you, even when you’re like this.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved. His body was tense, his hands trembling at his sides as though still fighting the urge to lash out. But as your fingers brushed against his cheek, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “To be...me.”

“You’re right,” you said softly. “I don’t. But I know what it’s like to feel alone. To think no one understands you. And I know it doesn’t have to stay that way.”

He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. When he opened them again, the anger was still there, but it was tempered by something gentler.

“I almost killed you,” he said, his tone flat but laced with an undercurrent of shame.

“But you didn’t,” you said simply. “Because I know you, Homelander. I know you’re more than your anger. You just don’t believe it yet.”

His gaze dropped to the floor, and for the first time, he looked...small. Vulnerable.

“Why do you stay?” he asked quietly, almost to himself.

You smiled faintly, stepping back just enough to give him space. “Because someone has to remind you that you’re human, even when you don’t want to be.”

Homelander stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he turned away, heading to the couch and sinking onto it heavily.

You followed, sitting beside him but keeping a respectful distance. He didn’t speak again, but when you reached out and placed your hand on his, he didn’t pull away.

The silence stretched on, heavy but no longer hostile. You knew this wasn’t over—that his anger, his darkness, would rear its head again. But for now, you had defused the storm.

---

The silence in the penthouse stretched between you both, heavy but no longer suffocating. Homelander sat on the couch, his posture still stiff, his eyes unfocused as though he was replaying every moment of the confrontation in his mind. You stayed beside him, quiet but unwavering, your hand still resting lightly on his.

After a long pause, he exhaled sharply and leaned back, running a hand through his blonde hair. His movements were jerky, as though the tension in his body refused to fully release. Then, almost reluctantly, his eyes flicked to you.

“You should hate me,” he said, his voice quiet but bitter. “After what I just did.”

You met his gaze steadily. “I don’t hate you, Homelander.”

“Why not?” he demanded, the frustration creeping back into his tone. “Why don’t you? Everyone else does—behind their fake smiles and hollow praise, they all hate me. Fear me.”

“I’m not everyone else,” you replied simply.

His jaw tightened, his eyes searching yours for something—what, you weren’t sure. After a moment, he let out another breath and slumped further into the couch, his facade of strength crumbling little by little.

Without a word, he shifted, laying his head in your lap. The suddenness of it caught you off guard, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you adjusted slightly, settling into the new position as his weight pressed down on you.

He closed his eyes, his expression tight and strained, like he was bracing himself for rejection or ridicule. When neither came, the tension in his face softened, and he let out a breath that sounded almost like a sigh of relief.

Your hand moved instinctively, brushing through his hair with slow, gentle strokes. The action was calming—for both of you—and you felt some of the residual fear and adrenaline from earlier start to dissipate.

“You’re so confusing,” he muttered, his voice muffled. “One minute, I want to... God, I wanted to... hurt you.” His voice cracked slightly, the admission raw and unguarded. “And the next, I can’t stand the thought of you leaving.”

“I know,” you said softly, continuing the soothing motions with your hand. “You don’t know what to do with me, do you?”

A faint, bitter laugh escaped him. “No,” he admitted. “I don’t. I’m used to control. To getting what I want, when I want it. But with you...” He opened his eyes, glancing up at you, his expression almost pleading. “You don’t play by my rules.”

“That’s because I’m not afraid of you,” you said gently. “Not the real you, anyway. The part of you that’s hurt. Lost.”

He tensed for a moment, his pride prickling at the words, but then he relaxed again, his head pressing a little deeper into your lap.

“You’re either brave or stupid,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to the words.

“Maybe both,” you said lightly, your lips curving into a faint smile.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the faint hum of the city outside and the rhythmic stroking of your fingers through his hair. Slowly, you felt his breathing even out, the rise and fall of his chest becoming less erratic.

“You remind me of something,” he said suddenly, his voice low and thoughtful.

“What’s that?”

“Home,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not that I’ve ever had one.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the raw vulnerability in them. “You can have one now,” you said softly. “It’s not too late, Homelander.”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on some distant point in the room. Then, slowly, he reached up, his fingers brushing against yours where they rested in his hair. The gesture was hesitant, almost uncertain, but it spoke volumes.

“Stay,” he said quietly, the word more of a plea than a command.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him, your voice steady.

He closed his eyes again, his expression softening as he allowed himself to let go—if only for a little while. For all his power, all his rage and arrogance, in this moment, he was just a man seeking comfort. And for now, you were willing to give it.

As the minutes passed, you felt the weight of his body grow heavier, his breaths deepening as exhaustion finally claimed him. You continued stroking his hair, your fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns, grounding him even in his sleep.

Whatever tomorrow brought—his anger, his pride, his destructive tendencies—you would face it together. For now, the storm had passed, leaving only the quiet and the fragile connection you shared.

---

[loveandmurders]

You belong to Ambrose II (poly!Sinclairs x f!reader)

Hello everyone! First, I really want to thank you all for the love you gave to the first part of this story (that you can find here). 😍🥰

It made me so happy but also very anxious about this next part haha! I planned 3 parts in total (a fourth maybe, if you ask for it), and I do hope you'll enjoy this series as much as you did at first <3 <3

Warnings: no proof reading, mentions of stalking, kidnapping and murders, morally grey reader, reader getting angry, sad and feeling guilty, some strong words, dark!brothers, very brief mentions of sexual desire and activities

Lester was good at following people without them to notice him, even if there was no one else on the road. He knew the roads by heart and his hearing was sharp, so he could guess where a car was without being right behind it. He actually parked near the forest and simply closed his eyes to guess which roads you were taking. He guessed you were at the campsite; a lot of tourists stayed there too. You were making things very easy for him and he thanked his luck. When everything seemed quiet again, he walked through the woods, just to make sure he was right and indeed, he found you sat with your people. You were five in total, but you all looked too gentle and soft to really be a problem for him and his brothers. He watched you, hidden behind a tree. His heart was clenching at the sight of you laughing. Even if it wasn’t with him, just hearing this beautiful sound once again was making him thrilled. He couldn’t wait for his hands to roam your body like they used to either.

He let you eat with your friends and he let you fall asleep under the bright sky full of stars. He saw you chatting a little while with one of the boys of the group and he had to admit he really didn’t like it. He didn’t know if he was your boyfriend or not, but he was definitively jealous. And he would need to talk about it to the twins so they could get rid of the man. Actually, he wanted everyone dead as quickly as possible, because you didn't belong to any of them.

He texted the location to his brothers.

Soon enough, the three men were towering over your group, their whole being finally calming down: you were back in their life and they weren’t going to let you go anymore. They couldn’t believe you were finally there and they didn’t attack your group right away. They wanted to enjoy the calmness written all over your face first. They always thought you were looking like an angel when you were sleeping. Vincent tried to memorise the scene so he could draw your sleeping form under the moon. Bo almost smiled, so relieved you hadn’t disappeared forever. Lester was the only one growing impatient. The twins knew things weren’t going to be too pretty after they kidnapped your group and they didn’t want that. They wanted to go straight to the moment where you would allow them to show you tenderness and to pleasure you. It was going to be so much work, so they wanted to enjoy the peace of the moment.

If only you had never left them; things would have been so much better.

If only you hadn’t decided to camp so close to Ambrose, you would have been safe.

Deep down, you knew you should have asked your friends to drive away as far away as possible, but you didn’t.

Because you didn’t want your friends to worry about anything and to ruin the nice mood.

Because you knew it was useless; the Sinclairs were hunters and they never let go of their prey until they had it.

Because you wanted the brothers to force you back into their lives, even though you would rather die than admit it.

You knew it was over when you woke up, in the middle of the night, feeling watched. You also heard quiet footsteps all over your group. You could have grabbed the little knife you had in your bag, or you could have screamed to wake up everyone, but you didn’t. You simply waited. You didn’t want the Sinclairs to have to hurt your friends or yourself. Maybe especially yourself.

You still jumped when you felt a hand over your mouth and you looked up. You recognised Bo’s touch on you and tried your best to not start crying out of fear. The man shushed you into your ear, before he took into your delicious scent.

“Shh, sweetheart, won’t hurt ya, 'kay? No need to make things difficult” he whispered to you and you nodded which made him smile “Atta girl” he praised you.

It was then you noticed two shadows moving over your friends. You weren’t too sure what they were going to do to them. You started to panic and tried to get away from Bo’s touch. “We won’t kill them. Yet. We’re just druggin’ them so we can brin’ them to Ambrose with us” Bo explained to you. You calmed down but you still shook your head at that. “I know ya want them all safe and sound, but we can’t let them go to the police, so they come” Bo replied and you heard the venom in his voice. He couldn’t hide the jealousy and the rage of his girl loving other people than him and his brothers “Time to go back to sleep, princess” he mused and you tried to fight as he pressed a tissue over your face.

You didn’t struggle for long before everything went dark.

When you opened your eyes again, you felt like you were back years ago. You were laying down in the guest room in the Sinclairs' house; a guest room that was actually yours because Trudy insisted for you to leave your belongings there, as it was your second house. It wasn’t like the Sinclairs were inviting anyone else at home anyways (or that anyone wanted to sleep in their house either). Your parents weren’t too happy about it, but you often slept there. The room was still the same with its pinkish walls and the cream furniture. Drawings were on the walls. You almost wondered if you were going to be late for school before you realised what truly happened. 

The Sinclairs kidnapped you and your friends. 

You tried to sit up but you realised one of your hands was cuffed to the bed frame. You cursed and tried to get your hand free until you heard footsteps in the corridor. You stopped breathing, waiting for someone to enter the room. Your heart was hammering inside your chest. You wanted to believe it was all a nightmare, and that you were going to wake up soon.

Bo cracked the door open and smiled when he noticed you were awake.

“Hello, doll,” he hummed as he entered the room.

You finally could have a good look at him and you had to admit he became as handsome as you thought he would be. You looked away, afraid of what was going to happen to you, afraid of him. Your whole body was tense and you cursed yourself for having tempted the devil like your mother asked you not to. You had been so so stupid.

Bo walked to you before cupping your face to force you to look at him. He had lost his smile. His thumb gently stroked your cheek. You tried very hard to not start crying. Or to not lean into his touch. His skin felt so warm against yours.

“Please, Bo. Let us go” you whispered. You noticed that the man’s jaw tightened. It was clearly not the first words he wanted to hear from you after all this time.

“Trust me, no one’s leavin’ no more” he harshly replied and tears fell down your cheeks. It calmed him down “Ah baby” he shushed as he knelt beside you to kiss your tears away. You hated how much you loved to feel his lips on your skin once again. “Ya’re meant to be a Sinclair, ‘s fate bringin’ ya where ya belong. And we’re all gonna take an extra good care of ya for all the years we had to go through without ya” he continued as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“You want me, keep me and let everyone else go, please. They have nothing to do with this.” you begged again. Bo sighted.

“Ya shouldn’t’ve left Ambrose, doll. Now ya have to pay the price for it” he simply shrugged and got up. “Gonna bring ya some breakfast, baby, I’ll be back” he added and left the room.

You cried even more, knowing you wouldn’t be able to reason with the Sinclairs. You hoped your people were still alive so you could help them to escape, even if it meant you would stay at Ambrose forever.

You were tugging on the handcuff again when you heard the door being opened a second time. You looked up to see Vincent watching you from the entrance. He looked like the shy boy you met the first time. You swallowed hard. You wanted to ask him what he did with your friends but you realised you were too afraid of the answer, so you stayed silent. Vincent finally moved closer to you and knelt in front of the bed. His fingers gently traced your face, as to memorise the change in your features since last time he saw you. You let him do it and closed your eyes. He removed the tears with a sad pout concealed behind his mask. You could pretend you were still a teenager, and Vincent was quietly flirting with you through tender touches.

You opened your eyes again when you felt the masked twin grab your free hand. He removed enough of his mask to press your palm against his scarred skin. You could have stayed immobile, but you didn’t. You gently stroked his cheek and he hummed in approval, his eye closed in well being. It felt so good to finally get your touch back.

“Hi, Vinny” you whispered and he looked up at you with the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. He kissed your hand. “Not gonna hurt me, right?” you asked, just to make sure. The man instantly shook his head. “Not gonna turn me into a wax statue either?” you added with a bite of your lips. Same answer. Relief flooded through you.

Forever love you. Missed you so badly. He slowly signed to you, as he wasn’t certain you still remembered ASL, but you did.

You didn’t have time to answer before Bo entered the room with a trail of food. It smelt good; you could already recognise his signature pancakes. Vincent stood up as Bo put the trail on the nightstand.

“Gonna untie ya, but nothin’ stupid, girl” he warned you and you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him. You weren’t too sure how you could be any more stupid than you already had been. What were you thinking when you decided to bring your friends so close to Ambrose? You wondered if deep down you hadn’t wanted this. “Y/N” Bo groaned and you simply tug on the handcuff. “Hey, don’t hurt yourself now!” Bo exclaimed as his hand flew on your wrist and you stopped tugging.

“Untie me then” you replied and Bo let escape a little smirk

“Ah yes, ya’re so hot when ya’re all bossy, ain’t ya?” he teased as he removed the handcuff from your wrist. You didn’t reply because you refused to acknowledge him flirting with you, like he used to. You massaged your wrist as you sat up. 

Knowing they weren’t going to hurt or kill you, appeased you a little and you thanked Bo for the food. You actually ate it with appetite, even though the twins’ stares were making you feel uncomfortable. They both sat, on a chair or on a desk, staying silent. They shared looks from time to time, but you tried your best to not mind them.

“Are they dead already?” you suddenly asked, because you needed to know

“Who?” Bo asked back, feigning innocence

“My friends” you groaned, your stomach twisted in worry. Maybe you shouldn’t have eaten before asking this question, you thought.

“No idea who ya’re talkin’ ‘bout” Bo shrugged.

You had a very bad feeling. You turned your attention toward Vincent, who tried to look away from you.

"Vincent." you simply said "Are they dead?"

Vincent hesitated about what to say. In the end, he slowly nodded at you. 

You got up and threw the plate on the wall in one swift and yet brutal movement. The porcelain broke as you started to angrily scream at them.

“Fuck! Fuck you all!” you cried out as both the twins got up. Bo tried to sit you back on the bed but you shoved him to the side. You grabbed Vincent by the shoulders “I swear to God, Vincent, if you fucking turned them into wax statues, I’m gonna burn down your cherished House of Wax to the fucking ground!!” you yelled even more.

Vincent’s eye widened and he thought about the four bodies he had already prepared to turn into statues. He quickly nodded though. He had no desire in upsetting you even more. And god forbid the twins to think how hot and attractive you were when you were so angry… If only you weren’t mad at them.

“How ‘bout ya calm down?” Bo grumbled but it only angered you more

“That I calm down? That I fucking calm down? You killed my people!! And then you wonder why I left Ambrose and never came to you all?” you screamed. Your words hurt Bo a lot more than he could admit so his own anger rose inside his chest

“Oh yeah? Well it’s funny ‘cause I ain’t rememberin’ ya carin’ that much about the killin’ before! Ya knew what mother and father were doin’ and it didn’t stop ya from livin’ with us most of your time!” Bo argued back

“It was different, it was your parents! I thought we could all live away from this mess, but no, you both decided the mess was worth it!” you continued

“It was the only life for us, and ya know it!” Bo replied as he gestured at Vincent who looked down

“You scared me off Ambrose” you cried out

“But now ya’re back and ya’re never fuckin’ leavin’ ever again! Ya’re ours, don’t ya know it, Y/N? Ya gave us everythin’ and we gave ya our souls in exchange! Didn’t ya enjoy flirtin’, kissin’ and havin’ sex with us? Or maybe ya were just a whore” Bo replied and you slapped him. 

You didn’t even realise what you did, you just did it. Bo pushed you on the bed and Vincent quickly stopped his twin from coming closer to you. But you weren’t afraid. You couldn’t be afraid of the people you truly had loved the most in your existence, and who had always been eager to do anything for you.

It was why the brothers loved you with such fierce passion; you had the strength to call them out on their bullshit and to make them obey. They were wrapped around your little finger, but it came with a cost: they would burn the whole world down if it meant keeping you theirs.

“Is that what you think of me? Great, Beauregard! But it can’t hurt me more than what you just did to my friends! And then you dare tell me you love me?” you said as you sent a glance at Vincent who felt like you pierced his heart with a dagger “It ain’t love, that might be why I ran away from you all! I shouldn’t’ve come back to the South of the country. Stupid fucking bad luck!”

Bo was about to reply to this, even though Vincent was trying to calm him down, but the door opened again. You saw Lester entering the room with a worried expression written all over his face. Things were really not going the way it was supposed to, he thought. He had heard you arguing with Bo from downstairs and he hoped he could put everyone back in a good mood.

But you couldn’t even stand looking at him after what happened. You got up once again and pushed the twins away from you.

“You know what, get all the fuck out of my room!” you yelled and you continued to push them toward the door. Once they were all out, you slammed the door shut and fell on your knees as you silently started to cry.

--

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(I really hope I didn't forget anyone! <3)

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PART III

[apollosrambling]

Dumb Love

Weasley Twins x Male/Masc reader 1183 words

The dorm room is quiet aside from the harsh patter of rain on the windows. You’re propped up in your own bed, reading from a DADA textbook to prepare for an upcoming paper. Across the room from you, the Weasley twins are sitting on Fred’s bed, heads together as they study their newest creation. The rest of the dorm is empty, the two others in the library working on a project. It’s a cold, rainy October evening, filling the school with a melancholy whisper.

You look out the window as a large crack of thunder fills the room. The Durmstrang boat is rocking wildly in the lake, leaving you to wonder if the students are taking refuge in the great hall, or if perhaps the ship is enchanted to avoid the feeling on the inside. You quickly realize you’ve been staring out of the window for at least five minutes, and snap back to your book. A movement catches your eye, and you look up to see the twins staring at you.

“What?” You ask, closing your book and stretching. You’d been sitting for what felt like hours.

“Nothing.” They say in tandemonium, which skyrockets your suspicions.

“What?” This time when you say it, you sound significantly less curious and impossibly more weary.

They both shrug, going back to working on their dangerous candies.

Being their best friend of 5  years, you knew better than to drop your suspicion, but you were also tired of staring at your book while pretending to understand the words. Deciding instead to watch the boys, you shove the textbook into your bag. While you have been their best friend, it was easy to tell when your feelings begin to grow.

It started with little signs. A twisting in your stomach when one laughed, a flutter across your skin when another would take your bag to taunt you. The teasing turned from infuriating to blush-inducing. 

It hit you like a truck, though, one holiday evening at the Burrow when you’d decided to stay with them rather than travel further to stay at home. It was late, a fire crackling in the hearth while you say curled between them. They had thought you asleep, dozing like a cat in the coziness of the cottage. 

“Try not to jostle him,” George had whispered, a hand stroking your hair while the other attempted to move to put long-drained cocoa mugs away. 

The way his fingertips felt on your forehead had solidified your feelings, sending you tumbling down a cliff of dumb puppy love. 

“Y/n.” Fred is standing now, moving towards your bed with a mischievous look. “Yeah?” You quirk an eyebrow and lean against one of the posts of your bed, swinging your legs over the edge. 

“Fancy an outing?”

Truthfully, you don’t. It’s cozy in your dorm. The warm heat of the fire as your pet naps in front of it, the familiar smell of sweets and spices. When it comes to the twins, though, you’re weak. 

“Sure.” Without much hesitation you pull on your cloak, not wanting your signature Molly Weasley sweater to be ruined if this outing includes the raging storm outside. 

The twins lead you out of the dorm and towards the towers of the castle. Watching the rain through the windows as you pass, tugging your cloak a little tighter as a shiver runs down your back. 

“Cold?” George sidles up, towering over you at an outrageous height. You huff, moving away to hide your blush. 

“No,” You mumble, but the subtle shaking in your hands gives you away. George takes them in his, intertwining your fingers as you walk. 

It’s hard to not let it go to your head. Sometimes you think their whispers and soft glances are for you. That it could work out. But that’d be outrageous, and they’ve always been tactile. It’s far more likely they just enjoy physical touch with all of their friends. 

After what feels like forever, you’re standing atop the astronomy tower with a charm keeping the pelting rain from your heads. Fred is laying out a blanket -where he conjured it from, you don’t know- when George finally lets go of your hand to set you down on it. The three of you huddle together, watching the gray sky get darker as first years sprint across the lawn in an attempt to stay dry. Mostly unsuccessful.

“Why are we here?” You lean back, resting on your palms and looking up at the two redheads. 

“The ball is coming up.” Ah, yeah. Perhaps they’re about to ask who you’re going to ask. Tell you about the girls they’ve been admiring. 

“Mh, yeah. It is. Who are you eyeing?” You really don’t want to know, but their happiness is important. 

“Well, I reckon I’ll pick up the courage to ask here soon.” Fred is smiling, as if he’s in on a secret you aren’t. He probably is. 

You watch George roll his eyes. “No, you won’t. You’ll just mope around Gryffindor tower and lament about dying alone.”  You cover your mouth to hide the laughter as Fred pulls an offended face. 

“Bugger off, I’ll do it.” He turns to you, shoving at his twin across you. “Who are you asking?” 

“I hadn’t thought about it,” You shrug, too embarrassed to admit you’d pictured yourself between them, dress robes tangled as you dance and exchange kisses. 

“Not interested in anyone, then?” They loom over as if your answer is the most important thing on earth. 

“No.” The burning red that seeps from your cheeks to your ears and back of your neck gives you away. 

“No one would be interested in going with me,” You admit. It hurts but you know you’re right.  

“Bullshit!” George grabs your shoulder, leaning impossibly close. 

“I bet loads of people are hoping you’ll ask them.” 

“Oh yeah, I can think of at least two,”  Fred chimes in, looking just as offended. 

“Two? Who?” Your heart pounds as George stares down at you. 

Do they know two other guys interested in men? Where? You can only think of one, and he’s definitely not interested. 

George is looking annoyed, grabbing your chin with more force than is maybe necessary. It makes you swallow. 

“You,” he growls out, tight grip showing no sign of loosening, “are the most infuriating, dense boy I have ever met.” 

“Thanks?”

Before the word even fully leaves your lips he’s crashing down on you. Weight heavy, free hand slipping through your hair in that obsessive way he likes to touch it. His lips are relentless, violent against yours and brimming with emotion. 

He pulls away, and before you can breathe Fred is taking his place. With a spinning mind and tingling lips you get lost in the sensation of kissing the two boys you’ve been in love with for years, heart pounding. 

When you’re finally given a chance to breathe your cheeks hurt from grinning. 

“So, you two want to go to the dance with me?” 

You’re tackled with more kisses, the rain a comforting soundtrack to your new love story.

[striderl]

Today's highlight: Styrofilm in Russia

... and the twins he's adopting.

Север (North) and Юг (South).

Reference below for more lore ->

Север (North) and Юг (South), inseparable twins born to a humble farming family in Southwest Russia. North, the elder by only two minutes, was gentle and considerate, with a love for herbs, flowers, and farm animals. South, her quiet yet fiercely loyal shadow — quick-tempered but always obedient to his sister’s guidance. He took on the heavier labor around the farm, never without his trusty shovel, a massive tool nearly as tall as him. North often teased that it was his Excalibur, but in truth, it meant more than that.

Their lives changed forever when they turned 12, barely reaching their teens. The Skibidis tore through the land, and their parents were lost to the descending chaos. The twins were forced to flee with the rest of the survivors with nothing but South’s shovel, a revolver, and some meager supplies they scavenged.

After weeks of hardship, they stumbled upon a survivor camp over three hundred miles from home. It seemed like a sanctuary, filled with other children who had suffered the same fate, offering them companionship and a fragile sense of normalcy. But, South couldn’t ignore the white-suited cameramen moving through the camp, conversing with the doctors, sometimes watching the twins with an eerie intensity. 

It was no surprise they stood out. Identical twins of opposite sexes were rare enough, but it was their capabilities that made them exceptional. Years of farm work had given them strength and resilience beyond their age. South, despite his temper, had an unshakable sense of duty, always looking out for the younger and weaker children —  more often than not, North had to step in before his shovel got involved. North, in contrast, was a bright and resourceful girl, a natural sharpshooter with her revolver.

Their talents didn’t go unnoticed. Some admired them. Others, however, saw them as a problem.

A year passed before the camp council made a chilling decision. Supplies were dwindling, and the children were deemed burdens rather than survivors. A deal was struck with the Russia Cameramen Division stationed in Khabarovsk: in exchange for two years’ worth of provisions, several children — including North and South — were handed over as test subjects.

The twins barely retained any lucid memories after they were taken — only flashes of metal, sterile rooms, the rustlings of white suits and lab coats. They awoke in the bodies of hulking war machines — foreign, metallic frames of large cameramen. 

South was devastated. His body, his freedom, and his humanity were stolen by those whom he had trusted. His grief turned to fury. Let's just say, the first unfortunate scientist cam that entered South’s detainment chamber didn’t come out in one piece.

North, ever the rational one, simply accepted their fate. If the scientists hadn’t intervened, they would have fallen to the Skibidis. But it didn’t mean she trusted them, but she played along — if only to keep South from tearing the place apart.

After rigorous disciplinary measures and military training, South learned to keep his rage in check in front of the high-ranking officers. It didn’t necessarily stop him from glaring daggers at every scientist cams he passed, or from picking fights with the other large cameramen. Despite standing at a mere 9’9”(2.9 m) compared to his towering comrades, he fought like a feral beast.

When the Astro Invasion began, the twins were deployed to the Russian frontlines. Their teamwork was seamless — South carved through close-range enemies with his shovel, while North provided support fire with her revolvers.

During a brutal battle, North was separated from South. A blast tore through her leg as she scrambled for cover. Before she could react, an Astro unit trained its cannon at her, and readied to open fire.

And then — salvation.

Styrofilm, the transferred cameraman scientist, and his assistant Polaroid, intervened. The girl was exhausted and terrified. Without thinking, she slung to Styro, the last bit of her composure crumbling. The war had drained her innocence, patience, and unwavering resolve.

Styrofilm, carried her back to the Russia Division’s base, listened to her story. He didn’t see a soldier in North, only a child who had been betrayed, exploited, and cast aside. 

He agreed to sign the petition to be their mentor and guardian.

But when North was finally reunited with South, her brother’s rage reignited at the sight of the white-suited cameraman.

Rage boiled over as he swung a fist at Styrofilm. But the scientist caught it with ease, Letting South vent his fury. The boy spilled accusations, hurled every ounce of pain and hatred toward the scientists that he had bottled up, at Styrofilm.

And Styro only listened.

Eventually, South’s fury burned itself out. North found the perfect opportunity to step in, pleading with him to trust Styrofilm. In the end, South relented — not because he trusted the scientist in front of him, but because he trusted her.

With Styrofilm and Polaroid stationed in Russia for the foreseeable future, Styro has plenty of time to bond with his two newly-acquired, traumatized kids. Whether he was ready for it or not, they were about to become the closest family outside of the Filming Industry.