#if there's any posts on there to begin with

[spideyjimin]

Bloodlines entwined: V | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child. 

—  pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  words: 9,619

—  warnings: sex dream, strong language, mention of sex, a lot of nervousness, mention of death, mention of murder, crying, mention of grief, heartbreak, mention of abortion, swearing, nipple play, nipple sucking, kind of fingering (not sure if it’s the correct word), and some very big tension

—  author’s note: soo this was supposed to be posted tomorrow, but in the end, I have to post it today 🤗 This chapter is honestly quite intense in a lot of levels, but it unveils a lot about oc’s past, and we will finally understand a lot more about what happened to her parents 🫠 hope you’ll enjoy this chapter 💞

Chapter V: unveiling the past

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

You and Jungkook are abruptly pulled out of your sleep, both affected by the very intense and heated dream you inexplicably shared. The dream involved a lot of kissing, his mouth on your nipples, his tongue lapping at your juices, your tongue swirling along his hard shaft, and his manhood inside your wetted core. It was an intense dream that you both enjoyed way too much.

After the full moon, three days ago, you haven’t really seen or talked to each other. There have been some messages here and there, mostly messages where he checks up on you. Things aren’t awkward between you, you’d actually say the opposite. However, you’re actually convinced that next time you’ll see him you won’t be able to resist him.

“Soooo,” Lexi says once you’re in the kitchen.

This night, you’ve slept at Felix’s house with Lexi to spend a little bit of time together. This whole pregnancy and werewolf journey has pushed you a bit far from them, and you don’t want that. They are a big part of you, they’ve been by your side since the beginning. So Lexi literally decided the other day that instead of having dinner all together, it’d be better if you and she slept here. Like old good times.

“You have to tell me how the little monster’s father is,” she almost demands.

“I don’t have any picture,” you instantly answer while putting coffee in a mug.

“I’m not asking for a picture,” she says. “I want you to describe the man for me.”

You roll your eyes, she’s unbelievable. She’s always so nosy, and since she has learned about the ‘I keep the baby and the father comes along’ story, she’s been dead serious to know everything about Jungkook. However, you don’t really know how to explain to her that 1) you’re a werewolf, and 2) he’s a werewolf king.

“He’s just a man,” you answer.

“You’re boring, yn,” she says before taking a sip of coffee.

“Hi girls,” Felix enters the room with the brightest smile on his face.

He leaves a kiss on top of Lexi’s head before pressing one on your cheek. When his lips meet your cheek, you close your eyes to savor this sweet moment with your father. Being on your own is all good and funny, but you always miss his sweet good morning kisses.

“Hi dad,” Lexi says. “Can you tell yn to provide us with more description than ‘man’ for her baby daddy?”

“Well, at least we know he’s a man,” he teasingly says to his daughter.

“Dad,” she moans. “You’re not helping.”

As she’s complaining to her father, you grab a plate that you place on the table with your coffee before sitting down in front of her. You take a toast, put butter on, and eat it. This is delicious. Simple but delicious.

“Okay,” you surrender. “I’ll tell you.”

“Finally!” she exclaims. “It was about damn time!”

You roll your eyes once more. This lady has an incredible personality, but you adore her. She’s literally your sunshine, you couldn’t live without her.

“It’s a tall Korean man with black short hair,” you start saying. “He has dark brown eyes and has a very athletic body.”

“So you’ve gotten to see his body closely,” she plays with her eyebrows while insinuating something sexy.

“No, I didn’t,” you instantly lie.

She furrows her brows, she knows you’re lying. It’s written all over your face.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she snaps back. “Did you already have sex with him?”

Felix chokes on his coffee, Lexi and yourself now looking at him.

“Don’t talk about that around me,” he defends himself.

“Come one, Dad,” she says. “We’re not ten anymore, we’re thirty, and your daughter is pregnant. We know babies don’t fall from the sky.”

Lexi is the type of girl to be straightforward, especially with you and Felix. In this case, she’s not wrong, but it still feels weird to be talking about sex around him. He’s like a father to you, and it’s just awkward. 

“Yeah, but still, I don’t want to know about what you do with guys,” he says.

“In this case,” you say. “We didn’t do anything like that,” you try to find an excuse without mentioning the wolf transformation. “He just spilled wine on his shirt and removed it in front of me.”

Lexi doesn’t buy it, but she pretends she does. She’s very much convinced you had sex with him, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Mmm,” she says. “Is he hot at least?” she asks. “We need to know if yn junior is going to have good genetics from both parents.”

There’s a sudden heat growing under your cheeks. You don’t want to say that he’s obviously so fucking hot and that you’ve been desiring to do wild things with him. But you’re not going to say that.

“He’s not bad,” you answer. “But my kid doesn’t need him to be good-looking, they just need me.”

Now, she’s the one rolling her eyes. It’s hard to not live with her anymore because you love your little bickerings. She’ll forever be the sister the universe gave you, and despite the tragedy of losing your parents, having her and Felix is the biggest blessing of your life.

“With you as their mother, I’m mostly concerned about their ego, not their beauty.”

“You’re just jealous,” you say before taking another bite of your toast.

Before any of you can add something, your phone rings, your eyes looking down at the screen. It’s a message from Jungkook. A smile appears on your face.      

 “It’s your baby daddy, I guess,” her words make you look up at her.

“Maybe,” you say.

You take your phone to see what he wants.

From Jungkook: Hi yn, how are you today? 😊

His message warms your heart. He’s been asking you every morning how you feel, and you can’t help but find this sweet. You know it’s because you’re carrying his child, but it’s still nice of him to do it.

To Jungkook: Hey Jungkook, all good here, and you? 😊  

His answer comes quite rapidly, Lexi looking at you very intrigued.

From Jungkook: I’m good too 😊 are you still up to meet the shadow’s alpha?

Now your heart starts hammering fast in your chest, and you take a deep breath. Meeting people who can help you unveil your parents’ past is exciting yet stressful. You wish nothing more than to meet this alpha, but you’re also scared of what you’ll find out.

“Are you okay?” Felix asks.

Your eyes look up to meet his. Although you absolutely adore him, you don’t want to tell him about this yet. You don’t even know how to tell him that you’re a werewolf. One thing you’re sure of, you want to know a bit more about your parents’ story before telling him anything. You’ll tell him one day, but not just yet.

“Yeah,” you say.   

To Jungkook: yep still good

Then, you agree with him to meet tomorrow at 4 pm. As you don’t want to stress too much over it, you join Lexi and Felix’s conversation.  

Your heart is beating extremely fast, your foot taping nervously on the floor, and your eyes gazing at the city passing before you. People are walking on the busy streets, many cars are moving around you while Jungkook is driving to the house of Mister Song Sungmin.

None of you speaks, his eyes glancing at you from time to time. He’s not sure if he should say something; he’s scared to say something he shouldn’t or that will hurt you. This is such an important moment for you. You’re about to meet someone that might have known your parents, and their true past.

“You okay?” he simply asks after a while.

“Yes,” your eyes leave the city to look at the man driving.

He’s back to wearing a suit which makes him look powerful, as always. You guess that he’s wearing a suit to reinforce his stature as king, projecting authority for the meeting you’re about to have with an Alpha.

This time around, it’s a grey suit with a black shirt underneath it. He’s extremely hot. But your mind doesn’t really dwell on it for long. All you truly think about is this meeting. It’s what truly matters right now.

A couple of minutes later, you arrive in front of a very pretty house. It seems to be the cozy type.

“Before going inside, there are a few things to know,” Jungkook explains. “Song Sungmin is one of the most powerful Alphas of your pack. He’s moved here after meeting his wife, Song Eunji who happens to be the daughter of a Blood. He’s also the uncle of my best friend, Taehyung.”

You nod before taking Jungkook’s hand to give it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

He offers you a small smile, a cute little dimple appearing on his face. Every time he smiles at you, you want to touch it.  

“I’d do anything to help you.”

And you’re grateful for everything he has done so far. No matter how things evolve between you, you’ll carry him closely in your heart. For sure, your baby is lucky to have him as their father.

“Let me know when you feel ready,” his thumb soothes your hand.

“We can go,” you tell him. “No need to make this last longer.”

In no time, you’re standing on Mister Song’s porch, waiting for him to open the door. Your heart is strongly hammering in your chest. This is more than scary, but you feel like you’re slowly getting closer to unveiling the truth about your parents. Strangely, it also makes you feel closer to them.

When he opens the door, your entire world freezes. Even your heart stops beating. You know this man. You met him twenty years ago, on the night your parents were killed. He’s the man that protected you from the butchery.

Twenty years ago, you were watching TV with your parents, but around 8 pm, somebody knocked at the door. It was your mother that opened it, and she was discussing with a man before she came to take you.

“Mommy and Daddy need to do something,” she told you in her honey-like voice. “This man is a good friend of mine, and he will take care of you while we’re gone.”

You were only ten so you didn’t question it. You didn’t think much about the fact they had something to do at 8 pm, something definitely unusual. You didn’t question the fact that you had never seen this man before. You didn’t even notice how scared she looked. You didn’t question anything, something you’ve deeply regretted your entire life.

This man took you to an ice cream store, offered you all the ice cream you wanted, and talked to you. Back then, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world. It wasn’t every day that an old friend of your parents would come and give you all the ice cream you wanted. Over time, you forgot about the man’s name because, on that tragic night, you lost your parents. This man didn’t matter anymore.  

Jungkook’s glance goes from you to Sungmin, and he doesn’t need to be a genius to understand you both know each other. It’s definitely surprising, but not completely. You’re living in the same city, and you’re part of the same pack.

“You’ve already met, I suppose,” Jungkook breaks the long silence between you.

You and Sungmin nod, your eyes never leaving his.

“Please come inside,” he invites you in.

Before closing the door, he looks around to make sure nobody else is there.

“Would you like something to drink or eat?” he proposes with a smile on his face.

As you look at him, you notice that he hasn’t changed at all, except for the grey hair. He still has a warm and comforting smile on his face. A smile you never forgot.

“No, thank you,” you answer.

Jungkook answers the same, and the older man guides you toward the terrace. His house is pretty modest and filled with pictures everywhere. It might be his children and grandchildren. There are also pictures of him younger and he definitely hasn’t changed in a while. It seems like he always had this compelling posture as if he has always meant to be an Alpha.   

“Please take a seat,” he shows the chairs arranged around the table.

The three of you sit down, your eyes wandering around. This terrace is very beautiful, you hope that one day you’ll have a similar one. But you’ll need to earn a lot more money.

“So this is yn,” Jungkook introduces you. “The woman I talked to you about on the phone.”

“I know who she is,” the older man says, his eyes moving to you. “You’ve grown a lot in twenty years,” he smiles at you. “And you’ve become a wonderful woman.”

“Thanks,” you smile back at him. “You haven’t changed at all.”

Sungmin looks away for a minute as he wants to hide the tears forming in his eyes. You are his biggest secret. Nobody ever knew that, twenty years ago, he offered you as much ice cream as you desired. When he looks back at you and Jungkook, you only feel compassion for this man.

“I knew one day we’d meet again and I’ve been waiting every day, for the past twenty years,” he begins. “I was expecting you to come earlier, but I’m glad you finally came.”

“What happened?” Jungkook asks with curiosity.

Sungmin takes a deep breath, a lump forming in his throat as he remembers the events.

“Twenty years ago, your father the king found her parents. The ones that were running away from the pack for ten years.”

He doesn’t need to say much more. Jungkook knows. On your side, you frown, not sure to understand what he means, but you carefully listen to him.

“When I was informed of it, I ran to their house. I needed to see for myself if their child was still alive. If they really had a child ten years prior. Before I even knocked at the door, I heard that little giggle only a kid can do. It broke my heart,” a tear runs down his face. “And I took the terrible decision to take that child away from the house. I took that child as far away as possible because I was scared they could hear the screams of their parents. I didn’t want that child to grow up with that trauma.”

Then, you start to understand what is going on. You’re not a werewolf, or at least not completely. You’re a hybrid, and your parents were killed because of that. That explains why they never talked about it to you. They didn’t know if one day you’ll manifest any wolf signs. That’s why they also ran away from their hometown, and why your grandparents never approved their love. One of them was a human.

“I lied to everybody, I made them believe I had killed the child. Since nobody saw her face, it was easy to lie,” he looks down at the table. “I knew what I did was wrong, but killing a ten-year-old for a sin she never committed was inhuman. Putting an end to a pregnancy is one thing, but cutting short a child’s life is totally another,” his eyes look back up at you. “I don’t regret what I did, and I will never regret it.”

Shivers run down your spine. So your wolf abilities weren’t really dormant, they were there all along, but they were mixed with human blood. The pregnancy simply awoke that side of you, especially since you’re carrying a wolf’s child. Your baby is the reason why you’re now able to turn, and why your powers have increased. Your baby is the reason why you’re finally digging into your past.

“Since you’re a hybrid, I never knew what to expect. All I expected was for you to find me one day, and you did.”

“So Jung… Mister Jeon’s father is the reason why my parents were killed?” you ask.

Jungkook finds it weird that you call him Mister Jeon, but he can understand it. You’ve always been very respectful and even though you’re pretty close now, you still respect his king stature.

“No,” he shakes his head. “We are.”

Tears start appearing in your eyes, and both men only feel sorry for you.

“Your mother was a werewolf and had fallen in love with a human. She was the rebellious type, she never really followed the rules. Her parents and the pack were repeating that this love story would only end badly, but she didn’t care. Then, she got pregnant and ran away with your father,” Sungmin explains. “Hybrids are forbidden as you might know so we tracked her. For nine years we looked for them, but it was in vain. We then asked for the king’s help because he had better resources than us. In a year, he found you and we did what we had to.”

Now, the tears run down your face as you realize the extent of the situation. Your entire existence is forbidden. You shouldn’t exist, but here you are. And on top of that, you’re pregnant with the king’s child. Another forbidden life.

“How did my mother react when she saw you?” you ask.

“She wasn’t surprised at all, she even thought I was going to kill her, but I told them I wanted to protect the three of you,” he answers. “She told me that the only person she wanted me to protect was you. She was ready to face the consequences of her actions, but she didn’t want you to die for her sins.”

Thinking about her selfless move breaks your heart. You’re trying as hard as possible to not burst into tears in front of this man. Your mother always put you first, she was always making sure you were happy.

“She knew that the pack would kill you first, right in front of her eyes. She didn’t want her last souvenir to be that so I respected her last will—to protect you.”

Jungkook’s hand finds yours to hold it as tight as possible. This mustn’t be easy to hear. It mustn’t be easy to learn that you’re a hybrid. The only living hybrid.

“Who murdered them?” you ask. “My grandparents?”

The older man shakes his head. “They weren’t even present; how could they be? No matter what, she was their daughter. A daughter they deeply loved. It was another Alpha who did it,” he seems obviously very shaken up by this event. “Our pack has never been the same since then. Your grandparents retreated completely, grieving forever a daughter and granddaughter they lost. Each year, we gather together at your grandparents’ place to pay tribute to your mother and you.”

It devastates beyond comprehension to picture it. People have been grieving someone alive all along. People have been thinking about you when they hadn’t even met you.

“Even if you’re a hybrid, you’re part of our pack, and your grandparents always made sure to include you in those heartbreaking moments.”

“So you never revealed to them I was alive?” you ask.

Sungmin shakes his head. “I tried many times, but the words never left my lips.”

Right now, you only want to disappear. You don’t want anybody to see you while this devastating pain eats you alive. Mister Song and your parents protected you from death. They allowed you to live when you shouldn’t have.

Your wish to disappear is granted when you do so due to all the intense emotions you’re feeling right now. Jungkook is then unable to see you, but he can still feel you as his hand remains on yours. His fingers never stop caressing you in an attempt to calm the storm growing inside you.

Sungmin follows you and disappears as well but you’re still able to see him. You still see him like he didn’t blur into his surroundings. It’s so weird.

“I’m so sorry, yn,” his hand reaches out to yours, a hand that you hold.

“It’s not your fault,” you try to reassure him. “You did what my mother wanted; you protected me from a certain death.”

“But I could have insisted, I could have protected them,” he answers.

“You know better than I do that the pack would have never stopped looking for them. The issue would have been the same no matter what.”   

Your parents' end was destined to be tragic, but they chose to love each other. They chose each other despite the bans. They chose to have a child together and protect you as long as they could.

They knew from the beginning that you’d end up growing up without them. And right now, you hate them as much as you love them. They did all this for you, but you still hate them for knowing you’d be alone and without them.

Then Sungmin reappears, his gaze serious and looking at Jungkook, his king. He knows now what will happen to him. He’s a traitor. He helped a forbidden couple, protected a child that shouldn’t exist, and lied to the entire werewolf community.  

“Mister Jeon,” his voice tone is deep. “I’m ready to face the consequences of my acts.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, your eyes now looking at Jungkook. Slowly, you reappear as well. Jungkook has never faced such a situation, and he can’t make a decision in the heat of the moment. He needs to think, and most probably, he’ll have to report this incident to the council. Not only did Sungmin break the rules, but there’s a hybrid walking amongst them. The council will show no mercy to you and Sungmin.

But he can’t lose you, not after all of this.

He has a very strong and deep connection with you, and you’re carrying his child. This isn’t simple anymore.    

“Mister Song,” he says with a very strong tone. “I appreciate your honesty; it has enlightened us about Miss y/l/n’s past. But I can’t decide right now what to do.”

The older man nods, understanding that Jungkook is now deeply involved. He can hear that faint heartbeat in your belly, and above anything else, he can smell that baby’s scent. It’s a unique one. They’re carrying the strong scent that only the child of a king has. He can also see how deeply the king cares about you.

His decision doesn’t just implicate the Alpha. It implicates you, the baby, and him. Whatever he decides, the three of you will be impacted. It isn’t a light decision to make.

“I will be thinking about it and come back to you once I’ve decided.”

The Alpha bows to his king as a sign of respect. It’s really impressive the power Jungkook holds, and how even such an old Alpha submits to his king. This is incredible.

“Thank you, your Majesty,” he says while bowing.

The drive back to your place is done in complete silence. In some way, the car feels heavier, as if the weight of the truth you’ve just learned is pressing down on you. This time, your eyes are red and swollen, and your face is ravaged by the tear you couldn’t hold back anymore. Learning about your past terribly scared you, but knowing it breaks your heart. Now, you know what happened on that tragic night in July. You now understand why your parents were so cruelly murdered—or should you say executed—, and why you were spared.

Jungkook keeps his eyes focused on the road, but you can sense the tension in him. His grip on the wheel is tight, his knuckles turning white, and he constantly glances in your direction. He wants to say something, to comfort you, but nothing seems to come out of his mouth. He isn’t even sure his words will ever be able to comfort you.

Once in front of the apartment complex, he slows the car to a stop. His eyes shift to you fully for the first time. There’s something in his expression that stops your heart. There isn’t only worry, there’s pain as well, as if he’s carrying this burden with you. You’ve never seen that in his gaze; he’s never looked at you this way before, so unguarded, so raw.

The moment your eyes lock with his, the world around you seems to disappear. There’s no sound, no city around you, no heartbeats echoing in your ears. There’s just the two of you. His presence is comforting, it’s like he’s healing your sorrows in a way you can’t explain. How can someone make you feel this way, so understood, so seen?

“Can you stay with me, please?” you finally ask as you try to control your voice. “I don’t want to stay alone today.”

His response is immediate, and his voice is reassuring, “Sure,” he nods. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

The gratitude in your chest is overwhelming, and you manage to offer him a small smile.

“Thanks,” you murmur.  

Jungkook pulls into the nearest parking space before cutting the engine. You sit there for a moment, neither of you speaking. The air is heavy with unspoken emotions. Finally, he steps out of the car and moves around to your side, opening the door and offering you his hand. His touch is warm, and grounding, and you take it without hesitation.

Without removing your hand from his, you both walk to your apartment. Jungkook is very much tempted to intertwine his fingers with yours; to offer you some unspoken reassurance but he doesn’t do anything, too scared of crossing an invisible line. Even inside the elevator, your hands remain locked. Neither of you speaks, but the warmth of his palm against yours feels reassuring. You only separate your hands to open the door.  

When you get inside, you both strip off your coats and shoes. You look at him, and he is lingering near the door, unsure whether he should move further.

“Do you want to drink or eat something?” you ask out of politeness.

“No, thanks,” he shakes his head. His voice is calm, but there’s something in his eyes. There’s concern, guilt, and ache that he doesn’t try to hide.

You nod and move to the living room to sit on the couch. Jungkook hesitates for a moment before joining you, sitting close but not too close. However, you close the distance as you throw yourself in his arms. You don’t hold back any tears, now crying in his arms. You’ve only known him for two months, but nobody has ever made you feel like this. You can undoubtedly trust him.

You rest your head against his chest, tears spilling over. He doesn’t hesitate, wrapping an arm around you, his hand gently rubbing your back. The warmth of his embrace melts some tension inside you, and for the first time today, you feel like you can breathe again.

None of you speaks, Jungkook just rubs your back while you cry in his arms. You deeply miss your parents and discovering what truly happened to them devastates you beyond comprehension. Will you ever be able to overcome this? Will you now be able to finally accept your parents’ death?

You’re not sure, but only time will tell.

However, now the biggest question is what will happen to you? You’re a hybrid. You’re not supposed to exist, let alone the life growing inside you. Will you have to terminate the pregnancy? Will you be executed like your parents were twenty years ago? Jungkook is the only one who can answer you. He’s the one who’ll have to make that decision.

And, then there are your grandparents. They believe that you’re dead, and you’d like to meet them. You’d like to tell them that you’re very much alive, that Mister Song protected you all this time, that he saved your life. You’d like to tell them that they don’t have to honor your memory anymore.  

But you aren’t even sure you can do that. You aren’t even sure that they’ll accept to meet you.

And there’s also your paternal grandparents. You’d also like to meet them. They are human, and their opinion of you might be pretty much different. Unless they know their son married a werewolf. Now that you know the truth, you desperately desire to meet your grandparents. The four of them.

You’d also like to know if you have uncles, aunts, and cousins. There is so much you want to know about your family, but let’s not rush anything. First, you need to digest what Sungmin revealed. There was a lot of information.

Slowly, but surely, your tears stop falling down, and the pain inside your heart seems to be a bit more bearable. But you still hold onto his embrace for a little more. You don’t want to let go of him just yet.

“Thanks a lot for your support,” you say while you put an end to the embrace and clean your face. “You’ve helped me so much.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he smiles. “You were embarked in this by my fault. The least I can do is help you.”

“This was never your fault in the first place,” you shake your head.

Maybe the clinic’s mistake wouldn’t have changed anything. Maybe, no matter who the father was, the pregnancy would have awakened your wolf blood. But, no matter what you have wolf blood in you, and sooner or later, something would have triggered it. The good part is that with the clinic’s mistake, you have Jungkook by your side.   

“But now we’ve discovered I’m a hybrid,” you continue.

Jungkook nods, his hand running through his hair. It’s the first time that he doesn’t know what to do. He’s completely lost because he’s starting to have feelings for you, and because it involves his child too. The rules are clear: hybrids can’t exist. But he never pictured himself falling for one, and having a child with one too. Your baby carries human blood; they aren’t of pure blood. How can such an heir exist? Nobody will ever accept to be ruled by the child of a hybrid.  

On top of that, this child is also the first one who isn’t fully a Blood. They have the blood of the Shadows running down their veins. Jungkook strongly believes that his blood will predominate, but there’s still a chance that they choose to be a Shadow. It will destabilize everything.

The thing with mixed-blood kids is that nature will choose to which pack they’ll belong. Nobody can belong to two packs. For sure, they’ll carry the heritage of both since their parents will be from two different packs. But we can’t know beforehand which pack they’ll be part of. It’ll only be found out at birth because once out of the womb, they’ll have the pack’s eye color for a couple of days.

There are so many unknowns now with this child.  

And he still has to reveal to his family he’s about to become a father. He was waiting to discover a bit more about your past before telling them about this wonderful news. But now, things are again complicated. His mother will tell him to put an end to both yours and the baby’s life. He’s not sure how his siblings might react to this, but he’s not expecting something positive.  

“What will happen to me?” you ask with a shaky voice.

His eyes meet yours, and they are glowing with something that gives you some hope.

“I’ll protect you,” he responds without hesitation. “Nobody is ever going to hurt you. I won’t let anyone touch you,” his tone is firm and assertive.  

Your heart now beats rapidly in your chest. It reassures you that he’ll protect you, and it means a lot since he’s a king. He’s supposed to be the one who leads by example, yet, he’ll be the first one breaking the rules. He’s going to protect a hybrid, a person that shouldn’t exist.

Jungkook gets closer, his hand delicately placing a strand of hair behind your ear. This simple gesture sends shivers down your spine. Your eyes get lost in his, and the world seems to disappear around you as his thumb lightly brushes against your cheek, leaving a warmth that spreads through your entire body.   

Time seems to pause, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. His face moves dangerously closer to yours until you feel his hot breath on your skin. Your heart hammers faster and faster in your chest, and for a brief moment, nothing else matters. There is no doubt that he’s about to kiss you, and truthfully, there’s nothing else you want more right now.

You know you wanted your first kiss to be deliberate, free from the chaos of emotions you’ve been swept into. But none of that matters now. The yearning you’ve buried rises to the surface, consuming you. All you care about is to taste his lips against yours. You want to know how they feel on yours. Those wild sex dreams have ignited something inside you, and you terribly desire to bring those dreams to life.  

His nose brushes against yours, the bare touch making you shiver. His proximity is intoxicating, and your lips are a breath away from meeting. When his eyes search yours, you know he’s silently asking for permission. And this time, you don’t pull away. Instead, your lips part slightly, and he sees the answer in your expression.

Then, he finally closes the distance. His lips press against yours with hesitation at first. The kiss is soft, and it feels like you’re discovering a part of yourself you never knew existed. His hand finds its way to the back of your neck, holding you while he deepens the kiss.

The world entirely disappears as his lips move against yours, guiding you, consuming you. Your body leans into his instinctively, your hands finding his chest, the fabric of his shirt bunching beneath your fingers. When his tongue brushes your lower lip, your stomach flips, and you let him in.

The sensation is overwhelming and beautiful, a perfect blend of desire and intimacy as your tongues meet in a slow, sensual dance. He tastes like everything you’ve ever craved but never let yourself hope for. The kiss is tender as if he’s pouring all his emotions into this single moment.

When you break the kiss, you’re both breathless, foreheads resting against each other as your eyes meet once again. Jungkook’s fingers softly caress your face, his touch is so soft it almost makes you shiver. You close your eyes to savor this moment. 

It’s a victory—not his, not yours, but yours together. You’ve been fighting this connection, but there’s no denying it anymore. This kiss has unraveled something inside you, and now there’s no going back. Now that you’ve had a taste of him, you know one thing for sure: he’s become impossible to resist.

His lips meet yours once more, but this time, he’s kissing you with a fervent passion. While kissing you, his strong body pushes you, allowing you to lay on the couch, his body hovering over yours. Then, his lips slowly descend to your jaw, your neck, cleavage, and they stop right above your shirt.

His eyes look up to meet yours as if he’s asking permission to keep going down. You nod, giving him free will to do whatever he wants. Without wasting any more time, his hand pushes down your shirt with your bra, exposing your breasts to his hungry eyes. The coldness of the air sends shivers through your body, your nipples hardening instantly. His breathing gets heavier as his eyes are glued to your chest.  

“Fuck,” he mumbles.

Then, without any warning, his warm mouth meets your right nipple to torture it with his tongue and teeth. Instant moans fall out your lips, and your hands find their way to his hair, playing with some strands while he vigorously sucks on your nipple. It feels blissful. You never imagined a simple kiss could lead to this.  

His left hand assaults your other breast, louder moans escape your lips, loving the way he’s giving you pleasure with his mouth and fingers. Your hands slightly pull at his hair while your mind is completely lost in lust. You’re completely unable to think correctly. The man on top of you shows no mercy, torturing you in the most exquisite way possible.

Jungkook definitely knows how to use his fingers and mouth, and damn, it’s even better than any wild dreams you had involving him. You don’t even want to start thinking about how it must feel to have his dick inside you.

“Jungkook…” you whisper as you picture him naked again.

That sweet sound makes his shaft grow harder, the space slowly growing smaller inside his pants. The way you turn him on is unique, nobody holds such a powerful grip on him. His mouth moves then to your left nipple to treat it exactly like your other nipple. The wetness inside your underwear only grows bigger, you can feel it. The amount of pleasure he’s giving you right now is out of mind, and you know you’ll come quickly.   

His right hand snails down on your body, stopping when it reaches the hem of your trousers. Very carefully, he unbuttons and unzips them. The second his fingers brush your core through your panties, a deep guttural sound leaves your lips, and your hand pulls harder into his hair. That action causes him to moan against your nipple.

This is such a blissful torture, but if he keeps touching you like that and moaning against your body, you’ll come undone rapidly.

His fingers slowly rub your pussy through your underwear, making you slowly turn into a moaning mess. Your body is contorting with pleasure under his, and you can feel his half-hard dick brushing against your thighs. The feeling is marvelous as you get to sense how’s feeling about this too.

Then, without further notice, he slips his fingers under your panties. His hand cups your pussy whole, and you both moan at the sensation. Jungkook is instantly welcomed with your wetness on his hot palm. Another moan slips through his mouth which makes you whimper. There’s no way you’ll survive this.  

“You’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs.

Jungkook drags his fingers down your slit, purposely avoiding your clit. You close your eyes in order to feel this all even more profoundly, a deep breath escaping your lips. The coldness of his fingers against your core is electrifying. You’re getting addicted to this man as he gives you more and more pleasure. How have you been living this whole time without his touch?

You lick your lips as he slowly rubs you up and down, spreading your own wetness over your sensitive skin. This feels so good, and it pushes away all the terrible emotions you went through today. His eyes look up at you as he desires to picture your face while being consumed by pleasure.

Your hips twitch against the couch when the tip of his finger brushes on your clit. As he does so, you feel a pleasurable electricity rushing through your body. Jungkook’s mouth stops abusing your nipple, his eyes completely hypnotized on your sweet face. His hand runs up and down your core and he makes sure that his fingertip touches your clit.

“How does it feel?” he finally breaks the silence.

“So…” you try to speak while he never stops his ministrations. “So good,” you whimper.

His fingertip now draws circles into your hardened clit, your back arching off of the couch, and your hips meeting his hand. The friction of his hand against your pussy is beyond delightful, his fingers bringing you straight to heaven.

“Jungkook,” you moan his name on repeat.

Your orgasm is slowly growing inside you, you know you won’t last any longer. It’s just a matter of seconds now. The man above you senses it the second your legs start shaking more and more. His fingers work harder, helping you chase your own pleasure.  

Then, you let go and the wave of pleasure violently washes over you. Jungkook stops his movements when he feels your juices leaking all over his hand. A smirk grows on his face, proud of himself for giving you an orgasm.

Jungkook removes his hand from your panties and buckles back your pants. Your heavy breathing slowly gets back to normal and after a while, you open back your eyes. The man who just gave you an orgasm offers you the brightest smile on earth.

“Hope you like it,” he says.

“It was wooow,” you tell him as you sit back on the couch.

The man presses a soft kiss on your cheek before arranging your messy hair. He can’t help but find you extremely adorable.

“Next time,” he whispers in your ear. “My fingers won’t be the only thing giving you an orgasm,” his deep voice sends shivers down your spine. His tongue licks your ear, a deep moan leaving your mouth.

The two of you know that this is just the beginning of what is going on between you. This connection is only growing stronger, and sooner or later, he’ll be standing between your legs, thrusting deeply inside of you.

And honestly, you can’t wait for that day to happen.

Tonight, Jungkook has arranged a family dinner.

It’s about time he reveals yours and the child’s existence to his family members. He’s pretty much nervous about this, but he has to tell them. A new life will join this family very soon. The next heir is on the way, and he can’t hide this from them any longer.

His mother is the first one to arrive, and she takes him in her arms. Then, a couple of minutes later, his younger brothers Hyunjin and Mingi make their appearances. And finally, Dohee appears with her husband, Namjoon.

It’s been a while since the entire family has been reunited under this roof. Dohee left the house eight years ago when she married Namjoon. His mother, Hyunjin, and Mingi left after the passing of his father. Back then, Yuna was slowly moving in and they wanted to give them the space they needed. After the breakup, they didn’t come back; they felt like it wasn’t their home anymore.

Hyunjin is six years younger than Jungkook, and he’s been in a very serious relationship with Nari for five years. Jungkook is surprised he hasn’t proposed to her yet; she’s his soulmate after all. Then, there’s Mingi, the youngest Jeon. He’s ten years younger and he was the surprise baby; their parents weren’t trying to have a baby at that time. Out of the four of them, Mingi was the most spoiled.

Even though Jungkook is closer to Dohee, the four Jeon’s siblings have a strong bond. The oldest always made sure they’d get along because family is so damn important. Their father’s death brought them even closer, and they’ve always been by their mother’s side to ensure she doesn’t grieve alone.

“So,” Jungkook begins, his eyes looking at the five people around the table. “Thanks for coming,” he smiles at them.

Dohee smiles back at her brother, her hand rubbing her belly. She should soon give birth to her fourth and, most probably, last child.

“There is a new Jeon on the way,” Jungkook’s smile grows bigger as he breaks the news.  

Jisoo, Jungkook’s mother stands up to hold her oldest child in her arms. Jungkook embraces her with the same strength, a tear forming in his eyes as her reaction deeply moves him.

“I’m so happy, Kook,” she says, her cheek pressed against his chest.

While he hugs his mother, he sees his sister’s face. Although she’s smiling and seems happy, something in her expression unsettles him. He knows she’s thinking about the fact that the baby is a hybrid; she was the only one aware of it back then. But, so much has happened since he talked to her, events that she will know now.

His mother sits back in her chair while her hands clean the tears on her face. Another one of her children is about to make her a grandmother again. Dohee is the only one who has been giving her grandchildren, and she’s happy Jungkook is also going to give her another one. She can’t wait to have her house filled with grandchildren.

His siblings and Namjoon congratulate him on the fantastic news. Although their reactions make him happy, he knows this light mood will not last long. They most probably will hate him when he’ll tell them what you truly are.

“Have you already met the surrogate?” his mother asks out of curiosity.

“A surrogate?” Hyunjin asks.

“I sought the help of a fertility clinic to have a child,” Jungkook explains to his brother. “It was getting harder to be waiting to become a father.”

His eyes move back to his mother to answer her question.

“But there’s no surrogate, mom,” he tells her.

Everybody’s reaction is the same. They all widen their eyes, except his sister. She’s known this for a month already, but she’s now worried about why he’s revealing this to the family. He should know nobody will be happy about him being a father to a hybrid, especially their mother.

“Are you with somebody?” she asks. “Or is it Yuna?”

“It’s absolutely not Yuna,” he instantly answers. “And I’m not with anyone, at least, not yet,” he rants.

Jisoo seems to be happy about all of this, but she still wants to understand how on earth he’s about to be a father if there’s no girlfriend and no surrogate. She starts wondering if he slept with someone only to have a child.

“The fertility clinic made a big mistake,” he explains. “A woman was mistakenly impregnated with my material, and at first, I thought she was a human. Obviously, this wasn’t possible since the baby would then be a hybrid,” they all shake their heads.

Jungkook purposely omits that he didn’t convince you to abort; his mother would kill him if she ever found out. Dohee takes a deep breath and shifts on her chair to try to find a comfortable position.

“But then, I found out that she wasn’t human,” he proceeds. “And it changed everything, she could keep the baby.”

Dohee’s expression now fully changes. She wasn’t expecting that, so she’s now very happy for her brother to have a pure-blood kid. Jungkook notices her sincere smile, and it already hurts him to even think about what he’s about to say next.

“However, she didn’t know that she was a werewolf.”

Now, they all frown, confused by this sentence. It clearly doesn’t make any sense.  

“How’s that possible?” Mingi asks.

Jungkook’s heart stammers in his chest. How does he explain now who you truly are? He’s not even sure he wants to do it, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. His family needs to learn from him that you’re a hybrid. Not from someone else.

“Her parents left their hometown, cut ties with their families, never told her about her wolf side, and died when she was still a kid,” he summarizes. “She was then raised by a human and never found out the truth until she got pregnant.”

He hardly swallows before he continues to reveal what has been going on for the past nine weeks. Honestly, those past weeks have been an emotional rollercoaster.

“I’ve been trying to help her discover what happened because as you can imagine, it’s a lot to take in.”

His heart is going crazy in his chest, and he’s barely able to look at his family as he proceeds with the story.

“She’s part of the Shadows, and I reached out to Mister Song to help us unveil her past.”   

They remain in silence, letting Jungkook speak. The man takes then an unreadable expression on his face to protect himself from what is about to come. He hates that he has to do it with his family, but he has to.

“Mister Song told us that thirty years ago, a Shadow woman ran away with a human,” his heart beats faster. His eyes move to his mother, hoping that she recalls that incident.

“Oh yeah, I remember that,” she says. “The Shadows couldn’t find them so they reached out to your father. After ten years, they managed to find them and their child.”

Jungkook bites his lower lip and he’s not sure how to continue with the story. Does he say now that you’re a hybrid? Does he maintain the mystery any longer?

“Well, we found out that the child was never killed,” he explains while avoiding saying that Sungmin spared your life. “And that child is the mother of mine.”

For a moment, the room is filled with a sharping silence. Jungkook doesn’t look away, trying to understand their expressions. They are all speechless, but he can see anger forming in his mother’s eyes. He was expecting it; she has never messed with the rules. He admires her for following the rules, not everybody does it, but this time around, it will be hard for her. He’s not going to abandon you because of your true nature. 

Mingi and Hyunjin are surprised but seem intrigued by all of this. Jungkook can see that curious flicker in their eyes. Dohee seems utterly shocked, but her expression softens when her eyes meet her brother’s. Namjoon seems mind-blown. And Jisoo, the matriarch, looks angry.  

“What?” Namjoon is the first one to break the silence. “A hybrid has been living for thirty years and nobody ever found out.”

Jungkook nods. “Yep.”

“A hybrid?” Mingi says. “That’s cool,” he continues.

“Mingi,” the mother’s harsh voice echoes in the room. “Hybrids are forbidden, there’s absolutely nothing cool about them,” her eyes now move to Jungkook. “And you, my son,” she’s very angry. “You know what you have to do.”

As he hears her words, a strong feeling of protection grows in him. Even if she’s his mother, she can’t tell him what to do, especially when it includes you.  

“No,” his tone is firm. “There won’t be any killing.”

“Neither the baby nor her can exist, son,” she responds.

“Like I said, there won’t be any killing,” his voice is calm, but still very firm.

Dohee, Mingi, Hyunjin, and Namjoon watch in disbelief the scene displaying in front of their eyes. It’s the first time Jungkook is using that tone on their mother, and it’s also the very first time he’s not agreeing with her. It seems like an unrealistic moment.

“She’s a hybrid, for fuck’s sake,” she swears, catching everybody off guard. “She can’t exist! It’s already a miracle she managed to live up until now, but you have to end her life right now before anybody else ever finds out about her.”

“Do you hear yourself, mom?” he says. “You’re talking about killing someone like it’s the same as making a cake. We’re talking about a life. In this case, even about two lives.”

The king runs his fingers through his hair, a sign that he’s extremely nervous. He knew his mother wouldn’t accept any of this, but it’s harder than he imagined. He hates to be standing against her. She has always been by his side, supporting him whenever he needed it.   

“I’m not saying it like that, but the rules are the rules,” she says.

“Then, fuck the rules!” he swears.

Now, everybody is surprised by his words. This isn’t the Jungkook they used to know; he’s been always composed and now, it seems to be losing it.

“Jungkook,” Dohee tries to intervene.

“Don’t Jungkook me,” he says to his sister.

He’s trying to stay calm, but it’s getting harder. Nobody seems to understand what he’s feeling.

“It’s easy for everybody to follow the rules when it doesn’t involve your child,” his voice tone gets higher. “I got attached to that baby even if they’re not born yet. I constantly hear their heartbeat every time I’m around her, and I can’t put an end to their life. It’s a big no,” he’s very firm. “It’s my child we’re talking about.”  

Tears start forming in his eyes, and his mother’s heart breaks as she hears his words. It makes her realize the complexity of the situation. For a moment, she puts herself in his shoes, trying to understand him.

When she found out that she was pregnant with Jungkook, it was the most beautiful day of her life. She desired her entire life to become a mother, and after her marriage, that desire only grew bigger. Hearing her son’s faint heartbeat was such an appeasing sound, and it was the prettiest sound she ever heard.

So, imagining that she needed to terminate the pregnancy because that child is a hybrid breaks her heart. It’s a decision she’s not sure she’ll be able to make. But the rules are the rules. Even if her grandchild will have more wolf blood than human blood, that doesn’t change the fact that the mother is a hybrid. She shouldn’t even exist in the first place.

“And she’s my soulmate,” his voice breaks.

Jungkook has been pushing aside the nature of his feelings for you, but after yesterday’s events, he finally realized it. You’re his soulmate. You’re the person that destiny chose for him. You’re the person with whom he’s supposed to mate. It’s a powerful bond that nobody will ever be able to break.

“I will protect her at all costs,” he adds.

His mother closes her eyes in disbelief.

“There’s nothing we can say, then,” Dohee concludes. “Except for Mingi, we all know how it feels to be around your soulmate, how powerful the love is, how deep the connection is, and what we’ll do to save our soulmates. For sure, she’s not supposed to exist, but destiny bonded her to you, our king. You have all powers, and we all know you’ll put her safety first,” she quickly looks at her husband. “I can’t blame you, Kookie. In your shoes, I would do the same. I’d save and protect Namjoon even if he was a hybrid.”

Jungkook looks at his mother, expecting now a reaction from her. Like Dohee said, she should know how he feels. For sure, his situation is messy as hell, but there’s not much he can do. If he kills you, he’ll forever be dead on the inside. A soulmate is a one-time thing; he doesn’t get to have two soulmates. 

“This is like a movie, but better,” Mingi says with a playful smile on his face. “Our brother, known as the werewolf king, falls in love with a hybrid, a forbidden species in our world, and he got her pregnant.”

“Stop being silly, Ming,” Hyunjin strikes his elbow against Mongi’s. “This is serious.”

“Rooh,” Mingi says. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood. I know it’s serious, but as Dohee said, there’s nothing we can do. The hybrid is Jk’s soulmate so we better accept the situation and help him. That’s it.”

Mingi makes everything sound so easy, as he always does. His chill, laid-back, and easygoing nature makes him the most relaxed of all the siblings, and in moments like this, it’s exactly what’s needed.

“The hybrid’s name is yn,” Jungkook says once he realizes he didn’t even say your name.

“Son,” Jisoo says as she opens her eyes. “In between us, we can accept it because we know what she represents for you. But how will the others react when they realize that yn, their possible future queen, is a hybrid, and that the next heir is not of pure blood?”

Hearing his mother say that you’ll probably be the next queen makes him feel weird, but in a good way. The words catch him off guard at first, a mix of surprise and uncertainty flickering through him. But the thought of having you by his side, not just as a partner but as his equal, makes his chest swell with a warmth he didn’t expect. Maybe, just maybe, the idea of you as queen is a future he wouldn’t mind embracing. 

“We all know how they will react,” she pauses for a moment. “They will try to kill her. Soulmate or not.”

“I don’t care,” he honestly replies. “I will protect her from everything and anything.”

No matter what people say, he’ll do whatever he can to keep you safe. He’s a king so he has the resources to protect you, and he also hopes that his authority as king might protect you as well.

“Okay,” the matriarch answers. “Then, if you don’t mind, I’d like to meet her.”

A smile appears on her face. It’s not easy, but she’s ready to make an effort for her son. She’ll try to accept this all because you’re his soulmate. However, she needs to meet you first so she can see what kind of person you are.

“Okay,” he smiles. “I’ll arrange that.”

The tension slowly fades away and the family continues the dinner while talking of other things. Jungkook is aware of the fight waiting for him, and he knows it won’t be easy, but you’re worth it.

[checkeredflagggs]

Money Bags

pairing: sugar relationship!charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: everyone is pretty sure charles has a sugar baby girlfriend — why else would she be posting so many photos of gifts?

a/n: the start of my week of romance! This was requested by a lovely anon and I hope you like it!

a/n2: I don’t know any actual shops or restaurants in Monaco so generic names it is! Please pretend it’s those exclusive places for the rich and famous. I also don’t know what type of Ferrari it is 🤷🏻‍♀️

Masterlist | Taglist

Bluesky

user1: …so it’s definitely charles and his girlfriend right?

↳user2: honestly they might as well as posted their faces

↳user1: Right? Like it’s so obvious

user3: you know you can just write their names? It’s definitely leclerc and his new girl

↳user4: it’s hilarious to me that they think it’s a secret?

↳user3: seriously! It’s been nonstop photos of gifts and trips and fancy dinners since they got together

user5: you mean charles and his gold digger?

↳user6: usually I wouldn’t promote that kind of language but in this case…

↳user7: I agree — she’s gonna drain him dry and move on to someone else to do the same

user8: don’t be coy deuxmoi — just say its the gold digger and charles leclerc…

↳user9: 😂😂

cl_gossip

liked by user, user, user and 982,349 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, yourusername

cl_gossip: shocking absolutely no one — this Valentine’s Day is going to be a bank-braker. This massive bouquet was seen heading into Leclerc’s apartment building

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user10: 😂😂😂 god just keep roasting her

user11: honestly how long does she think it’ll last when she blows his money so fast??

user12: … 😱 …🙄🙄🙄

user13: what a slut honestly.

user14: my money is she moves on to max next…

↳user15: oh same

↳user16: ohh that would be an ideal threesome…

↳user15: seriously?

↳user16: am I wrong?

↳user14: …no I guess not

user17: tagging them though…

↳user18: right? I could never…

↳user17: I hesitate to even comment sometimes and they’re just out here tagging them on a post that’s dragging his girl…

↳cl_gossip: sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do

cl_gossip

liked by user, user, user and 992,184 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, yourusername

cl_gossip: continuing with the apparent theme of the day — Charles and y/n were seen Bijouterie Jewelry Store, which is one of the most exclusive jewelry stores in the continent

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user20: wow…a new way to spend Charles’ money

↳user21: Jesus leave them alone

↳user20: we’re just calling it like we see it

↳user21: you’re just being a bitch

user22: oh to have a boyfriend like Charles to spoil you…

↳user23: right? Ignoring everything above — she’s got the jackpot. He’s so attractive, kind, seemingly caring, and rich?

↳user22: I’m so jealous

user24: man I’ve always wanted to go to Bijouterie Jewelry Store…

↳user25: same! I’ve seen pictures but I just know the aura of the place is unmatched

user26: leave the drivers and their personal lives alone challenge FAILED

↳user27: oh thank god I’m not the only one to think that

↳user26: they’re famous yes but we don’t need to know everything about their personal lives — and they have the right to privacy!

cl_gossip has posted a story, yourusername has posted 2 stories

[I don’t even know where to begin with this one…that is a mega yacht —not one of Charles’…][ today is only the best ♥️ | what a lovely lunch with charles_leclerc ♥️♥️♥️]

user28 replied GOLDDIGGER!

user29 replied god leave them alone

user30 replied what a bitchy move

user31 replied Charles please RUN

charles_leclerc replied Mon soleil, aujourd'hui a déjà été le plus beau jour de ma vie...My sunshine, today has already been the best day of my life...

↳yourusername Attendez, car ce n'est pas encore fini! Just you wait then because it's not over yet!

↳charles_leclerc mon soleil…my sunshine

↳yourusername 🥰🥰🥰

francisca.cgomes replied you guys are setting the bar absurdly high…

↳yourusername of course 🥰

↳yourusername but just say the word and we can run away baby

↳francisca.cgomes 🤯🤯🤯

pierregasly replied stop trying to steal my girlfriend

↳yourusername never

↳pierregasly 🙄😑

user32 replied jealousy activated oh my god…

user33 replied i want your life…

user34 replied please post some more photos of Charles queen!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes, pierregasly, and 2,923,91: others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: a new car and still a passenger princess 👑

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charles_leclerc: Je ne le ferais pas autrement, mon soleil. I wouldn’t have it any other way, my sunshine

↳yourusername: 😍😍😍

user36: RUN CHARLES

this comment has been deleted

user37: a whore and a gold digger…

this comment has been deleted

lilymhe: the prettiest passenger princess ever

↳yourusername: no that’s you!

↳alex_albon: why must you always flirt with our girlfriends?

↳pierregasly: i know

↳francisca.cgomes: 😘

↳yourusername: stop having such babes for girlfriends then? liked by lilymhe, francisca.cgomes

↳alex_albon: 🙄🙄

user38: he bought her a BRAND NEW FERRARI???

↳user39: I’ve never been so jealous of a bitch in my life

user40: ok but is anyone gonna say anything about the FUCKING HUGE ASS pile of gifts?

↳user41: I KNOW! Like damn…

↳yourusername: spoiling is the name of the game girlies…

↳user40: are you guys looking for a third? A maid? A dog? liked by yourusername

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, and 3,128,183 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: a last minute trip with my baby…

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charles_leclerc: ♥️♥️♥️

↳yourusername: my love 🥰

user42: leo!

↳user43: always a good day with a leo leclerc picture liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc

oscarpiastri: have a good trip dad!

↳charles_leclerc: thank you son!

↳yourusername: …yeah no. Thanks though osc! liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri

maxverstappen1: Air Max is still better

↳yourusername: stop being jealous!

↳maxverstappen1: 😑

↳charles_leclerc: mon soleil…

user49: god imagine being so entitled that you demand an expensive trip…

↳yourusername: lol

↳charles_leclerc: 😂

↳user50: ok but what does this mean…

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc, pierregasly, and 2,723,183 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: Mon soleil, tu as mon cœur et mon âme depuis le jour où je t'ai vu pour la première fois. Je t'aime infiniment, avec ferveur, vraiment. Votre beauté, votre gentillesse, votre générosité sont exceptionnelles. Merci pour cette journée si merveilleuse aujourd'hui. Je n'aurais jamais cru qu'être gâté était si agréable.

My sunshine, you have my heart and soul and have since the day i first saw you. I love you endlessly, fervently, truly. Your beauty, your kindness, your generosity is outstanding. Thank you for such a wonderful day today. I never knew that being spoiled felt so good.

(Also stay mad and stay jealous but mon soleil is not the sugar baby in this relationship ☺️)

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yourusername: Charles my love…

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[seungcheorry]

Ot13 reaction on how many kids SVT would have?

how many kids svt would have:

seungcheol probably wants to have two at least. i can picture him having a baby girl and then getting too excited once his partner is free from the whole post partum thing and getting them pregnant again right afterwards. he would really wish for a baby boy then.

jeonghan would love to have two as well, and i can see him having twins - i don't know why, something in him just screams FATHER OF TWINS to me. probably two girls? it's a lot of work though, he'll be done with having kids, would probably even do the surgery so he can't have any anymore.

joshua is very similar to seungcheol to me, would probably have a boy and then get too excited and have a girl because his dna is just good like that. the prettiest kids to ever exist actually, and he's so in love with them that it can be quite easy to talk him into having another one after a few years.

junhui screams boy dad to me, so yeah. i can see him having only one child, a really savage boy just like minghao was back in the day? weird but in a good, chomical way. he would be really good friends with his kid, like a partners in crime type of relationship.

soonyoung... oh, soonyoung. he says he wants to have lots and lots of kids because he loves having his house full but after the first one - a baby boy -, he gets so tired that he actually apologizes to his mom. might slip or be talked into having another one (he just wants his kid to have a relationship like the one he has with his sister); would really hope for a girl then, would probably get another boy though.

wonwoo is a definitely a girl dad too. he would really hope for a boy (i don't know why, i just feel like he would) but then it comes a baby girl and he turns into mush for her. such a goner, i can't even begin to describe - she can tell him to stay put for 20 whole minutes while she pretends to make tea and he won't move a muscle, just stay there and watch her because she told him to. would probably just want one.

jihoon is a girl dad and i will die on this hill. he's also a goner for his girl, he's very strict with things but also he doesn't like to be rough to her so he's just, i don't know, the perfect balance? most likely to be the favorite parent and learn about his daughter secrets before his partner because she just trusts him like that. would also just want one.

seokmin would love three - the first one (a boy) is probably planned; the second one (a girl) is probably an expected accident as he doesn't mind having sex without protection even though he knows the risks; the third one (another boy) is probably an unexpected accident that he cries in joy when he sees for the first time. he would definitely tell his partner "i'm so glad we got drunk that night" while seeing his two oldest children ganging up to change the new baby's diaper.

mingyu definitely wants two kids, he loves his sister too much and knows how a sibling relationship can literally save someone. most likely to have two girls, and his partner might ask him if he isn't sad that they didn't have a boy but he's too busy to answer as he's teaching the girls how to make ramyeon :(

minghao already said himself, he's not the one who gets to decide how many kids he and his partner will have, but he wants two - and can be bend into having a third one. i can see him having a boy and then a girl, and if he and his partner decides for another one, then it would be another girl, probably.

seungkwan would have two girls and his dramatic ass would say it's karma because what do you mean he grew up with his older sisters and now he has to take care of yet other two girls who will bicker and gang up on him just like his sisters did? behind that facade though he would love to take care of them and to see them grow together. most emotional dad, for sure.

vernon is a boy dad to me and he would say he only wants one kid but then he sees him growing up on his own and don't get me wrong, the kid is totally fine with it, but vernon can't stop thinking about how sofia changed his life and he would go "yeah, we might need another one" to his partner. makes a whole deal about it when he finds out his second child is gonna be a girl. "REALLY, WHAT ARE THE ODDS?"... but it's not that hard, vernon. i'm glad you're happy though, i know you love your kids.

chan is also a boy dad and he would probably want another kid but once he realizes how much work and effort it takes, he's sticking to just one. if his partner ever wants another one they would have to really talk him into it, might even need to ask seokmin for help, because chan would stand his ground and say no. but honestly? he's a loverboy, at the end he might just say yes and then meet his cute little daughter and be like "oh my god, why didn't we make her sooner?"

[purlturtle]

Tumblr didn't want to let me put this in the tags, so have it as an addition to this post:

I hold that it is ESSENTIAL for fan fic writers and readers to think about what the characters would think about pet names and which ones they would use if any and on which occasion.

like - Helena Wells never calls *Myka* darling; she uses it for Claudia IIRC, so maybe it isn't a romantic pet name from Helena's part but a simple English endearment like 'luv' or 'pet' (and yes those are simple English endearments!) (and I have often had Helena use 'darling' for Myka - at least in the beginning of their interactions, where it could arguably be simple rather than romantic). (But Myka doesn't know that; she (headcanon) hasn't grown up with endearments at all, and so her first instinct is to ascribe romantic intent to the 'darling' and get all flustered, before reminding herself that it's probably only a simple English endearment like 'luv' or 'pet'.) (and it is my further headcanon that later when they or at least Helena is aware that this is "love of my life" territory, she doesn't use "darling" anymore but "my love" or similar, but that's a different essay.)

And when you write fic you gotta think about these things! It will make your romance and character interactions all the better! And to hear that there are readers who don't even stop to think how those word choices carry the story, is - quite honestly - infuriating. Nothing against squicks and icks; those exist and they're fine, and if you gotta click out then you gotta click out. But can you, dear reader, just for a moment before you hit that back button, please consider that the curtains are blue for a reason?

Just saw a TikTok complaining about ‘kitten’ as a pet name in fanfiction and while I do agree with their discomfort on that one the comments were FULL of people mentioning all the other common pet names ?? Like honey babe baby sweetheart etc ?? Is your partner just supposed to call you by your name the whole time ????????

[bunji-enthusiast]

𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 (𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥?)

Sypnosis [You go out to scavenge for food, basically.]

Characters [Poppy, Doey The Doughman.]

Note || it be rough down in Playtime Co fr, also the potential for the fluff is unmatched. Like, trying to vy for some light and hope, despite the horrors that await us at every turn in the factory. Raghh— also I’m posting another one after this, I wrote both of this and the other in tandem.

The factory was a maze of forgotten memories and rusted machinery, its shadows deeper and darker than most could ever imagine. Yet, amidst all the chaos, there was still a flicker of hope for survival. You were tough, yes—no stranger to hard labor and hardship—but survival in the backrooms of Playtime Co. required something more. Food, for one.

The small toys in the safe haven, especially Doey, needed sustenance, and even though they were small, they weren't any less deserving of food than you. Poppy, Kissy, and the others—tough as the journey was, you couldn’t ignore their needs. It was your responsibility.

But before you could set out, you found yourself in the worn, cold hall of the safe haven, where Poppy sat with a gentle but questioning look. Her eyes, despite their haunting bloodshot hue, carried something soft, something almost maternal. Her porcelain face, cracked as it was, held the same delicate, thoughtful expression you had come to expect.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Poppy spoke, her voice light and almost melodic. It had a faint echo, as if the walls themselves remembered her long-forgotten commercial days. “You’re going out to scavenge, aren’t you?”

You nodded, giving her a small grin. “I’ll bring back something for you too, Poppy. Don’t worry.”

Poppy’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of concern passing over her features. “You should be careful out there, you know. The factory's a dangerous place. Even for someone like you.”

“I’m tougher than I look, Poppy,” you reassured her, though there was a hint of apprehension in your voice. No matter how tough you were, the factory still held secrets, and not all of them were willing to let you go free.

Poppy looked down, her fingers twisting the ribbons in her red hair as if caught in a whirlwind of thoughts. When she spoke again, her voice had lost some of its previous cheerfulness, replaced by something deeper, something weary. “You have to understand… It’s not just food that’s at stake, you know.”

Your brow furrowed, confused at first. “What do you mean? The food—”

“I’m talking about the Prototype,” she said quietly, almost as if the mere mention of it weighed heavily on her. “If you go out there, be careful. He’s always watching, even when you don’t see him. The food… it’s just the beginning. Things could get much worse, much faster. You’re already in too deep, aren’t you?”

Her words gave you pause. Despite the factory's twisted games and horrors, the Prototype loomed over everything, a constant shadow.

“I know,” you sighed, “but we’re not getting out of here without doing something. The others—Doey, Kissy, and even you—need to be taken care of. And if that means I have to risk it, then so be it. I’ve survived this long, haven’t I?”

Poppy smiled faintly, her porcelain lips curling ever so slightly. “You’ve survived, yes. But maybe… maybe you don’t have to do it alone. I know I can’t leave, not with everything that’s happened. But we can’t let him win. We can’t let him keep us here.”

You gave her a reassuring nod, feeling the weight of the factory’s twisted past pressing down on you both. “I won’t let him win, Poppy. I’ll be back. Promise.”

She stood up slowly, her delicate porcelain limbs moving with an elegance that belied the danger lurking just outside the safe haven. “Be careful. And if you can find anything more than food… anything that could help us escape, don’t hesitate to bring it back. We all deserve that much.”

As you turned to leave, Poppy’s soft voice called out to you one last time. “Don’t get lost, okay? The factory is full of distractions, and not all of them are friendly.”

You smiled at her words, a small flicker of warmth in your chest. “I’ll be fine. Just stay safe, alright?”

With that, you stepped into the darkened halls, your mind focused on the task ahead. The air was thick with the scent of rust and decay, but your resolve was firm. You had a job to do. Not just for yourself, but for those who had no way of scavenging for themselves. And you couldn’t let them down. Not after everything that had happened.

The factory's mechanical heart seemed to pulse around you, but you kept moving forward, determined to find something—anything—that would give you all a chance at survival.

The factory was a place of eerie silence now, broken only by the occasional echo of footsteps. It had once been a bustling factory, filled with the sounds of laughter and the buzz of mechanical parts working in harmony. Now, it was a place of fear, of shadows lurking in every corner, and of memories that clung to the walls like ghosts. As a former employee, you had seen things here that no one should have ever witnessed. Yet, amidst the horror, there were still those who needed you. The small toys that had found sanctuary in this forsaken place — Doey, Poppy, Kissy, and others — were relying on you.

Food. The thought lingered in your mind like a simple but necessary task, a reminder of how even in a world so broken, survival still required basic needs. You had made your way through the depths of the factory once before, and though the dangers were still there, they didn’t faze you the way they used to. You were tough, resilient — your body honed for the challenges this factory threw at you. But even you couldn’t fight the gnawing emptiness in your stomach. And it wasn’t just for you. Doey, the ever-caring doughman, had proven himself to be a true companion. And Poppy... Poppy had become something more than just another toy. She had become someone you could rely on. Kissy, too, though she was quieter, always watching from the shadows, had her own way of offering help.

You knew where to go. The factory had its secrets — areas tucked away behind locked doors, hidden alleys between forgotten rooms where remnants of old supplies might still be found. The storage areas and old kitchens, once a part of the bustling workforce's meals, were now just echoes of the past. But perhaps, with a little luck, you could scavenge something to bring back. It was risky. The factory had changed since the disaster. The toys that once greeted customers with joy and laughter had become twisted, warped by the Prototype's influence. Yet, there were still pockets of safety — places where the light still flickered faintly.

You moved quickly, but cautiously, your eyes darting from shadow to shadow. The factory’s labyrinthine corridors seemed to stretch forever, each turn filled with uncertainty. You had a destination in mind, but that didn't make the journey any less perilous. The faint sound of machinery echoed from far off, and the distant scraping of claws against metal made your pulse race for a moment. But you pushed forward. There was no turning back now.

As you reached the old kitchen, memories of its former use haunted you. It had been a place of warmth once, where the workers would gather, a place of respite. Now, the shelves were bare, save for the scattered remnants of broken toys and discarded wrappers. A few boxes remained — their labels faded and worn, but their contents still promising. You pried open a few, finding only scraps of half-eaten meals and stale bread. Not much, but it would have to do.

You moved through the dark corridors, the boxes tucked under your arm, and it wasn’t long before you spotted a small, familiar figure in the distance. Doey. His doughy body shuffled forward with surprising agility, a small bundle of food in his hands.

"I thought I might find you here," he said, his voice soft but warm. "Food’s scarce, but we’ve got a few things hidden away. Thought you might need some."

"Anything helps," you replied, grateful. "What about the others? Poppy? Kissy?"

Doey smiled, his form stretching slightly as he thought. "Kissy's still laying low. She’s... been through a lot. And Poppy’s keeping an eye on things, making sure the others are safe. But they're hungry. We all are."

You handed Doey a few of the boxes you had scavenged. "We’ll make do," you said, though the truth was, the food would hardly be enough to sustain the group for long. But it was better than nothing.

“Poppy will be thrilled,” Doey continued, his voice quieter now. “We’ve all been struggling to get by, and every little bit helps. You know, it’s funny… in a place like this, food doesn’t just fill your stomach. It reminds us of a simpler time, a time when we didn’t have to worry about every little thing, when we were just toys living for fun and play.”

You nodded, understanding the gravity behind his words. While Doey often kept things light, he had his moments of deep thought, moments when the weight of what had happened here truly sank in. He didn’t often talk about the past, but you knew from what little he'd shared that he was one of the few who still remembered the humanity behind the toys—the lives they once lived. That empathy he showed for the other toys, even those whose humanity had long been erased by the Prototype’s cruel machinations, was something you admired about him.

“I know Poppy wants to put an end to all of this," Doey continued, his voice soft but serious now, the usual joviality replaced by a more reflective tone. "But I think... I think there's something worth saving here. Even after everything that's happened, these toys—like us—are still capable of so much more than what the factory intended. I believe that. Even if some others can’t see it.”

The words struck you in a way you didn’t expect. You had always known that Doey, despite his playful exterior, had a more complex side—a side that had always tried to balance the need for action with the need for understanding. While Poppy, the other leader of the Safe Haven, was adamant about destroying the factory and moving on, Doey had a different perspective. He wanted to understand, to find a way to preserve what remained of the toys' essence, to protect them.

"You really think there's a chance?" you asked, genuinely curious.

Doey nodded, though his expression remained neutral. "I do. Not all of us are beyond saving. We just need the right push. Poppy may want to destroy everything, but… I can’t just give up on them. I can’t give up on us."

There was a certain sadness behind his words, a sadness that only surfaced when Doey was truly vulnerable, when the weight of responsibility took a hold of him. But it was that very vulnerability that made him such a powerful leader—because it made him relatable. He understood loss, struggle, and hope, and he knew that sometimes, saving someone wasn’t about destroying everything around them. It was about offering them a chance at redemption, even in the most hopeless of circumstances.

"You know, Doey," you said, your voice steady, "You're not alone in this. Poppy and the others may not always see eye to eye with you, but… I think you’re right. We can’t just abandon the idea that there’s good left in these toys."

His smile returned, albeit more subdued this time. "Thanks. I needed to hear that."

Just then, you both heard the distant sound of footsteps echoing through the factory—another sign that the factory wasn’t as empty as it seemed. You both turned your heads, ready for whatever came next. But for now, in this brief, quiet moment between you and Doey, there was a sense of peace—a fleeting sense of hope amidst the ruins.

"Come on," Doey said, his playful tone back. "Let’s get this food back to the Safe Haven before anyone else starts getting ideas. They won’t be disappointed."

The two of you walked back toward the Safe Haven, the only place where any semblance of safety remained in this factory of horrors. As you passed through the corridors, the shadows seemed to shift. The factory had a way of making you feel watched, as if every creaking floorboard or distant thud was a reminder that the nightmare was never truly gone. You quickened your pace, eager to return to the others.

When you reached the Safe Haven, the sight of the familiar, fortified walls provided some comfort. Inside, the toys were scattered in various corners, huddled in their own small groups. The warmth of their presence was palpable, even if they were all, in their own way, broken by what they had endured. Doey moved to the corner, setting down the food he had gathered, and you followed, your eyes searching for Poppy.

She was standing near something—you couldn’t make out what, her porcelain face calm but her eyes searching the dark expanse beyond. As you approached, she turned to you, her usual cheer absent but replaced by something more serious.

"Did you find anything?" she asked, her voice soft yet filled with hope.

"Not much," you replied, holding up the food you had gathered. "But it's enough for now."

Poppy nodded, her lips curling into a small, appreciative smile. "We’ll make it work. We always do."

It was a rare moment of peace, fleeting though it was. You had been through so much together — the horrors of the factory, the twisted games and monstrous toys that had haunted your every step. But here, in this small corner of the factory, you had found something like family. It wasn’t much, but it was all you had.

And as you sat down with the others, sharing what little food there was, you couldn’t help but feel that, for all the darkness, there was still something worth fighting for.

[weirdero]

I want to talk about Helena’s performance as Helly and her deep rooted misunderstanding of who Helly is as a person. And just in general how I think she perceives her especially after yesterday’s episode.

Helena is incredibly attentive, almost to the point of being terrifying. In the short moments she interacts with anyone, everything in her head is already scripted, calculated, and premeditated. She’s also a great method actress, reacting based on the energy around her. It’s like a stand up comic, constantly adjusting their performance to make sure their actions land. If something doesn’t click, she shifts.

Throughout the past couple of episodes, Helena spends most of her time just trying to go with the flow move with the water, trying to fit in without standing out, constantly monitoring the group and their reactions at every turn. And so far, she was good at it. She can play the part, until her own emotions towards helly start to blind her.

In these two pics she does a quick scan of Irving’s and Marks faces trying to analyze their reactions

Helena knows the group loves Helly. She knows Mark loves Helly. And honestly, I’d bet every dollar in my bank account that it genuinely makes her want to kill herself. She has zero respect for Helly, and she doesn’t need to. To Helena, Helly, and by extension, the group, are low value. Insignificant. At her highest, Helly is just a worker, a cheap extension of herself created with the sole purpose of just being a good employee to be displayed to the public as a little shining lumon puppet. But shit, the bitch can’t even do that. She’s done quite the opposite. So yeah, not a person to be respected or valued.

This particular disdain (and fuck it, I’m just gonna say hate) that Helena carries for Helly spills into the bonfire scene with Milchick.

While Milchick is reading the story, enunciating every word like a second grade elementary school teacher, showing pictures like they’re in a reading circle, I kept wondering to myself if Helena ever experienced something similar to this as a child. How many times has she heard this same story? Or hell, any other old Kier mythology? Lumon, Kier, the Eagan legacy, it’s all she’s ever known. This world is nothing new to her.

Even though I believe Helena is a loyal servant, she probably didn’t love all the weird shit she had to put up with in her childhood. The weight of the Egan legacy probably suffocates her. But she accepted it either way because that was the life she was given. Unlike fucking helly. Fucking helly who’s forced her into this situation to begin with. In my opinion, all of these particular feelings make their way into Helena’s reaction to the story as Helly, which could only be described as a middle schooler who suddenly thinks they’re too old for camp.

I saw this post someone made about this scene, and like shit, yeah, that’s probably right. Helena had one chance to shit on the weird religion that’s been shoved down her throat since birth and she took that chance.

Helena, in this moment, settles for crude, mocking jokes. She probably does this partially out of her own selfish need for Mark’s validation, as well as playing her role trying to fit into the group but I also think it’s a great reflection of her own personal feelings toward Helly. Helly, who would’ve never acted that way. Helly, who is many things, but never cruel. Helena doesn’t seem to understand that. For the moment, Helena takes a step back, flanderizes Helly, reducing her to this cheeky, crude, disruptive little jokester. That’s how Helena views her. With no respect. No nuance. Helly has layers Helena does not care to see. Helly doesn’t just break rules; she actively causes chaos, subverting everything around her. She’s purposefully, and happily, malcontent. A bitch, dare I say, an ungrateful bitch, most likely from Helena’s point of view.

Irving, who keeps testing her, makes her slip a little more. I talked about this a little bit in my last post about severance, but Helena doesn’t take well to being disrespected. She shifts from wanting the group’s (and mostly Mark’s) validation to just wanting to put Irving in his fucking place. These people aren’t equal to her in her mind. They aren’t cut from the same cloth probably not even made from the same fabric. There are levels to this shit, and they are not on her level.

She says what she says. It’s cruel. Mostly, it’s stupid on her part.

And just like Irving said later, and what I said earlier Helly was many things, but…

What Helena did at the bonfire was a fuck up. An especially surprising one coming from a woman as controlling and calculated as her. I’m fully convinced all those little mistakes came from a deep frustration within her. Much of that anger, in my opinion, is stewing from the realization that Helly, someone created by her, literally the source of all of Helena’s recent problems, someone who will stop at nothing to take her down, that person, the woman who’s literally locked up inside her, is more free than she will ever be.

Yes, Helena has no respect for Helly. Yes, she most likely hates that bitch. But when she herself is acting as Helly, it gives her the opportunity to almost let go. She gets the chance to essentially kill the bitch that’s been fucking up her life whilst simultaneously getting a chance to talk to this man who cares so deeply for a version of herself she hates, Even if it’s not the most ideal of situations (it’s not), it’s still something. I think, at the bonfire, she reflects on the ridiculous situation she’s found herself. All this shit caused by some other version of herself that she created, that situation plus all the other shit going down at Lumon is probably alot. And it just all bubbles up inside her. And when she’s given even the smallest opportunity to let anything out, she’s going to take it.

Idk it’s therapeutic in a way I guess.

She’s unfiltered, blunt, and almost carefree in a way that’s shocking almost unsettling. It’s clearly how she sees Helly to some degree, but also her own need to scratch an itch she’s never dared to before. And even though it’s an act of “Helly”, it still leaves a clear aftertaste of Helena.

Keep thinking about these two little moments whilst she’s making her jokes she not only keeps checking on mark’s reaction but also seems to laugh at her self in a way that just seems so genuine almost self deprecating. She acknowledges the ridiculousness of her situation and this dumb ass story she’s probably heard a million times

In my last post about Severance, I mentioned that Helena is the master of speaking her truth without outright saying it. She hides behind walls, but as Helly, she’s free to speak without restraint.

(Also her having sex with mark is a clear way of her expressing this new found freedom with in her role as helly but ima talk about that later)

[alagaisia]

This is true, and it’s especially true for the people that I think most is us probably encounter in our own social circles and daily lives. But I don’t think it’s true for everybody. Remember how there was that stat showing a spike in google searches for “did Joe Biden drop out” on Election Day?

I think it’s sort of like how you can’t know what you can’t know. If you don’t know that you’re missing information, you can’t go looking to educate yourself on it. And while most of the time when people talk about “living in a bubble” they tend to mean it in a bad faith, paradox of tolerance type of way, I’ve realized lately that it’s a concept that’s absolutely applicable in a lot of ways. Of course we make our assumptions about the world based on the very limited and biased sample size of people we interact with in our daily lives. You can’t talk about the benefits of being able to curate our dashes on tumblr and then say you think the people who interact with the same political posts as you make a representative sample of the American public.

I am someone who tries to be pretty aware of environmental issues in my personal habits. My family isn’t zero-waste, granola, organic everything, but we haven’t used a plastic shopping bag or water bottle since I was in first grade. As I start forming my own adult habits and thinking about having more control over my consumption, I’m identifying ways I could move towards more environmental consciousness. I know that I’m not doing the absolute most I could be doing, and that I think about this more than the people around me, but not by that much, right?

Except I work now for an organization that sends plays on things like proper sorting of recycling to teach elementary students two counties from where I live. The county pays us to bring these programs, because the residents are simply not recycling. I’ve gone along on one or two of the programs and seen kids ten and eleven years old participating in the interactive “help us sort the recycling” activity in the show who were terrible at it. Because it’s just not something their community thinks about. These aren’t rural areas, these aren’t devoid of civilization or waste management infrastructure, this is a suburb 45 minutes from the largest city in our state.

It’s hard for me to wrap my head around it, too, but trump did not win because more people voted for him. He won because record numbers of people did not vote at all. And we can blame that on individual leftists becoming cynical and disillusioned, but something like a third of the country has never voted in any election. There are people who are and always have been disconnected from and disinterested in the government and electoral politics and anything happening in this country.

And it’s wrong! I’m not saying it isn’t. Each of us has a responsibility to our communities, and the civic responsibility of voting and being at least minimally informed on what’s happening in the country is a part of living in a fucking society. It’s disgraceful. But many of those non-voters didn’t consider all of the available information and then choose not to educate themselves and not to vote. It simply didn’t occur to them. Just like the kids I encountered who don’t know how to recycle, a lot of people have grown up in families and communities where electoral politics were somebody else’s business, or for any number of other reasons I can’t begin to guess at, something that just wasn’t a priority. I come from a very politically motivated family, and I’m sure most of you do too. I don’t know anybody who doesn’t vote. I don’t know why each of them didn’t. But there are millions of people who don’t.

These problems have been building since long before 2016, but at the very least that election should have been a wake up call for the democratic party on a national level. What we needed and still need is community and individual level action on a national scale to reach non-voters and educate them on political issues and why this shit does actually affect them and does actually matter. Democrats need to stop folding to random criticism on things like fracking and instead have some fucking backbone, stick to their morals, and work to get votes through education and changing people’s minds and convincing them that these values are worth voting for, rather than changing their policies every other week based on what they think might appease people who are not going to vote for them anyway without a concentrated effort for a societal change of mindset.

Yes, there’s lots of information available, and people do have a responsibility to use that. Obviously there are plenty of people like the ones OP alludes to who are shirking that responsibility due to apathy. But those of us who know all of that know it because we are part of communities that care about accessing and acting based on that information. There are people who don’t know and don’t care and to whom it would never occur to seek that information out, because in their community, it doesn’t matter. And those are the people who I think the democratic party does have a real responsibility to try harder to reach. Politicians also obviously live in a social bubble where everybody cares about politics. But somebody needs to look at the numbers and realize that that’s just not true for the country as a whole. And then they need to do something about it.

I STILL sometimes see people argue that Trump's victory is the fault of Democrats for not being good enough at messaging, and not making it clear enough to Americans all the good Biden was doing.

I knew. Lots of people I know knew. I don't have a secret line to the white house. I'm around average intelligence. I'm not excessively seeking out news, constantly getting news updates. And yet I knew. And so did many others. The information was there for you to get at any time. It found its way to me without my actively seeking it out. Kamala Harris cannot personally come to your house and slap the tiktok out of your hands. You have to take a crumb of responsibility here.

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 almost out their relationship because they're just that whipped

Request: SVT being so whipped for their partner they almost outed their relationship.

A/N: It's kinda like a “oh no, did I just say/do that?!” moments for me lmao. Also, I used, “They/Them” here but let's just say they used a gender specific pronoun which kinda led them to fuck up even more...Also it low-key gives seoksoo, verkwan and junhao ship vibes TT

Seungcheol – Slipping Up in an Interview

He’s always been careful, okay? But today his is brain is not cooperating. During an interview, the members are joking about ideal types when the host asks, “What’s something you find irresistible in a person?” Without thinking, Seungcheol blurts, “When they pout because they want my attention.” The members snap their heads toward him. Joshua is choking on his drink. Vernon whispers "bro..." under his breath. Seungcheol realizes his mistake immediately, his ears turning red. He forces a laugh, “I mean—uh, you know, in a general sense. Hypothetically. Right?” His nervous chuckle does nothing to save him.

Jeonghan – Too Obvious with Fanservice

Jeonghan thinks he’s a genius at keeping secrets, but in reality he’s just so obvious. He always tells the fans he loves them, but somehow, every time he says “I love you,” his gaze instinctively flickers toward you in the audience. And then—he winks. Winks. At you. In the middle of a concert. Minghao nudges him, “Dude.” Seungkwan is facepalming. The fans start speculating immediately, and Jeonghan just sips his water like he didn’t almost out himself in 4K.

Joshua – The Accidental Instagram Clue

Joshua, being the aesthetic king he is, posts a random normal picture of his coffee and watch, thinking nothing of it. But what he does not realize is that the reflection in the spoon shows someone sitting across from him—you. Within minutes, fans are zooming in, analyzing every pixel. “WHO IS THIS?!!” Trends worldwide. The members tease him in the group chat, sending screenshots. Joshua just sighs, running a hand through his hair, muttering, Man, I really played myself.

LET IDOLS DATE FOR GOD'S SAKE!

Jun – Forgetting to Hide His Affection

Jun is always affectionate, he doesn’t even realize when he’s being obvious. So, when he spots you struggling to carry something backstage, he automatically takes it from your hands, in front of staff and half the members. The moment he does, everyone stares. Hoshi gasps. Jun blinks, realizing what he’s done. “Ah... I mean, uh, I do this for everyone?” He’s lying and no one believes him.

Hoshi – Screaming Your Name...by Accident

His emotions can get the best of him. One day during soundcheck, he’s hyping up the members. “YAH, LET’S GO! SEUNGKWAN, NICE! MINGYU, POWERFUL! BABY, YOU’RE—” silence. The stadium freezes. The members turn slowly. “Hosh...” Hoshi goes silent. His soul leaves his body. Then, suddenly, he yells, “AHHHH, CARATS MY BABY!!” He starts running laps around the stage to avoid any eye contact.

Wonwoo – Too Many Inside Jokes

Wonwoo is subtle, but his inside jokes are not so much. One time, on a livestream, he casually laughs and says, “That reminds me of something my par—” he stops. The chat explodes. “Your what, Wonwoo?” His expression is stone-cold, but his ears are bright red. He quickly changes the topic, but the damage is done. The speculations begin. And his company starts doing overtime hours.

Woozi – Forgetting You’re Not a Member

Woozi keeps things private, but his muscle memory betrays him. One day, while walking to a schedule, he naturally reaches out to grab your hand... in public. Minghao, walking beside him, subtly smacks his arm, whispering, “Hyung, no.” Woozi yanks his hand back like he touched fire, clearing his throat. “I, uh, thought it was one of you.” Carats does NOT believe him.

Dokyeom – Too Excited to Hide It

Dokyeom wears his heart on his sleeve. During a live, a fan asks about his ideal type. “Ahhh, someone who has a cute laugh, loves music, and—oh! And they have this habit where they scrunch their nose when they’re—” he freezes. The members stare. Seungkwan says, “You mean… like Shua?” to keep things in control as much as possible but Kyeom malfunctions. He screeches and ends the live immediately and that makes things even more worse ಥ⁠_⁠ಥ

Mingyu – Blurting It Out in Pure Panic

On a variety show, they’re playing a lie detector game. When asked if he has a crush, he confidently says “No.” BZZZT. Everyone erupts. Seungcheol, already enjoying this too much, asks, “So, who is it?” thinking he's comedian enough to make it funny but Mingyu in sheer panic, blurts your name. He outed himself. Pls—my man outed himself. The entire cast screams. Seungkwan falls off his chair. Mingyu is horrified. He buries his face in his hands, mumbling, Can I restart my life? He fr wants to restart his life.

Minghao – Slipping Up in Chinese

Minghao is careful...but his first language betrays him. In a Mandarin interview, he randomly mentions, “Oh, yeah, my baobei likes that too.” The moment the words leave his mouth, he stiffens. The interviewer raises an eyebrow. The members are staring especially Jun. He quickly clears his throat, “Ah, I meant—um—Carats. Our fans are all my baobei.” No one buys it. Not for a second.

Seungkwan – Talking About You Like It’s Normal

Seungkwan rants about you way too much without realizing it. In an live interview, he says, “Yeah, Y/N always says that—” stops. His eyes widen. He claps his hand over his mouth. The cast erupt with laughter. Seungkwan tries to run. He fails. Now, he has to spend the next five minutes convincing the camera, "No, no, no, you misheard! I meant my mom!"

Vernon – Forgetting the Camera is On

Vernon is way too comfortable on live. One time, he’s scrolling through his phone, half-paying attention, when he accidentally clicks on a message from you. It pops up for a split second. The chat explodes. The members who are also watching, start spamming his phone. He doesn’t even notice until Seungkwan texts, “END THE LIVE RIGHT NOW.” Cue Vernon panicking, fumbling with his phone, and mumbling, Oops, my bad.

Dino – Being Too Obvious About "Their Type"

Dino gets asked about his ideal type on a show. Trying to be subtle, he says, “Ah, someone funny, kind, and… um, someone who’s really supportive during my practice.” The members exchange looks. “So... like...?” The host asks since he's already too obvious and specific about certain someone. His brain shuts down when he realises. He stares at the camera like a deer in headlights. Then, he nervously laughs, “Hahaha... no, no, I mean, like… in general… not specific at all…” He fails miserably.

[bluemerakis]

────────── ᝰ bluemerakis ༝༚༝༚ ────

❝ skin covered in ego ❞

❝ all the stars ── ၊၊||၊|။||||။၊| ── kendrick lamar ft. sza ❞

─ ۶ৎ ─

pairing ୨୧ soldier boy x fem!supe!reader

warnings .ᐟ cussing, dual pov, angst, oral f receiving, unprotected sex p in v, fluff, just sappy drama actually. pls lmk if i forgot any :)

synopsis ─ a retrospect of how soldier boy meets his saving grace—a superhero he’d been forcibly co-partnered with during payback’s prime. throughout their time spent together, she helps to refine all the fragments of him that have always lingered within, but had lacked the grip to pull together into something whole—respectable. eventually, with her influence, he reinvents his image into a sense of self he can claim without pre-programmed shame, and in the process, he discovers just how pivotal her existence is within his formerly, self-centred universe.

word count ~ 9.2k

based on this fic

──────────────────────

ʿ Skin covered in egoʾ

Vought-American’s council room felt suffocated with the aged, bronze statues looming in every corner of the space—a dramatic glorification of countless Vought-owned Supes, both old and new alike, that you’d neglected to learn the names of. Like honourable guards, they perched on their metal posts with watchful eyes meant to convey a sense of security and comfort. But instead, the weight of their rusted, faux eyes compressed your lungs to the point of shallow, jittery breaths, and the impressive height on them made you feel belittled. Judged.

Misplaced—like you’d never measure up to all the virtues of Supe life that their metal forms had come to embody.

The unwelcoming, inanimate atmosphere was only given a certain life by the company’s executives, who’d personally received you at the doors and guided you into this room. But there’d been no genuine sentiment beyond professionalism to warm their welcoming smiles, and every advance they’d made in becoming better acquainted with you had felt orchestrated—robotic. It’d done little to soothe your unease, and everything to feed the mental monster fear-mongering your better judgement.

Now, in the midst of the council room, the executives were fanned out all around you in a formation that should’ve made you feel caged in—like you were about to be fed to something far worse than the statues’ lingering jaws of judgement. But even then, you didn’t seize any wise instinct to flee. You felt immobilised by dread—the dread plaguing the idea of new beginnings. Your new beginning as Payback’s newest, super-abled member.

The title should’ve left you feeling honoured. Where you should’ve celebrated the letter housing the formal invitation, you mourned the loss of the comforts you’d come to call home. Where you should’ve marvelled at the idea of getting to work with Vought-American’s renowned Supe team, you harboured only a nagging fear of never measuring up to their standards. Where excitement should’ve imploded within at the mere idea of meeting the Soldier Boy, only panic arrived to brace every inch of your mind.

You were terrified.

And what didn’t help your rattled lungs was the way the doors to the room seemed to part with a dramatised creak, displacing the tense silence momentarily—only to replace it with an overwhelming air of self-righteousness as the man you dreaded meeting finally strode into the room. It was as though all the air in the room parted and pressed up against the walls to accommodate his demanding existence, and all at the expense of everybody else unlucky enough to share the space.

Clad in the iconic green uniform you’d seen advertised across countless costume stores, Soldier Boy marched a line that drew directly toward you. His jaw was perched on some invisible stage of importance, his hardened eyes finding yours in a cynical standoff. His broad shoulders were braced with a practiced composure as he covered the length of the floor, and it only added to the overwhelming demeanour you were sure he’d forged for the sole purpose of intimidating everybody below his pay grade.

As he drew up before your waiting form, you found yourself rooted to the spot—frozen with the uncertainty of how to approach the figure you’d come to know as America’s icon. But thankfully, you were shielded from Soldier Boy’s grilling glare as the executives all around you stirred, taking turns to greet the leader of Payback with more enthusiasm than they’d showed you.

You took that moment to gather your wit, but your attention didn’t falter from Soldier Boy, and you couldn’t help but notice the way he came off as a dull, painful contrast to his bustling higher-ups. He seemed disinterested, gloved hand outstretched to deliver curt, half-hearted shakes—if only to fulfil the duty of formalities that must’ve come hand-in-hand with his position of import. It was so unlike the charming and chatty persona you’d grown used to seeing through on-screen commercial airings, but his aloofness didn’t seem to phase the executives.

It shouldn’t have surprised you, either. Meeting your heroes never went to plan. Reality wasn’t something that could be as carefully scripted as the faux media aired from every corner of America—and like that, you knew that Soldier Boy’s cheery personality was all an act. It’d fooled you, that’s for sure.

As you stood there, unable to tear your gaze away from America’s Sweetheart, you couldn’t help but seize the close-up company to study every detail about him—his sharp features rigged with enough tension to fuel an army, the captivating green of his eyes framed with a hard stare, and the soft, light brown hair that seemed to effortlessly catch the room’s light. And yet, for the long-standing reputation of war he’d forged his name within, there was not a single scar carved into his fair skin to reflect the records. But it didn’t make him less rough and raw.

And admittedly, he was breathtakingly beautiful—like he was made to be more of a God than a disciple.

Everything about him laid a siege on your lungs—made breathing the same air as him feel impossible. But you were forced to adapt when his attention finally forsook the executives to pin you down, and for a second, you saw him squint with a curiosity that mirrored your own. But the fraction of transparency he’d let weaken his carefully-curated mask was blinked away before he furthered his advance on you, effortlessly clearing a line through the loitering executives.

Subconsciously, you held your breath as you watched his taller frame stagger up to you. He drew up before you with an arm’s length of space to spare, the shy space breaching your bodies quickly becoming infused with his strong cologne. His gaze was intense as he searched between your features—enough of a silent interrogation to make your skin crawl with the urge to buckle your head. But you didn’t. You feigned bravery by holding his quiet challenge with a fragile determination, just hoping that he didn’t catch the subtle bop of your throat.

Your apparent boldness must’ve been an amusing feat on your part because the corner of Soldier Boy’s lips hitched with a light smirk. For a few seconds, neither of you said anything, but it did everything to thicken the air circulating between your faces. You wished he knew what was going through his mind as he scrutinised what felt like every inch of your face. It was intense—slightly uncomfortable, but you continued to hold his attention out of a petty need to prevail. Your head only buckled to shed his glare when movement on his part caught your eye, his hand finally neglecting his formation to lift in the offer of a greeting.

“What’s your name?” He asked—the sound unexpectedly sonorous. Dulcet. Composed. It’s not an octave you’ve ever heard broadcasted across the radio—so you figured it must’ve been a genuine detail about him. Something worth remembering.

Hesitantly, you reached out your own hand, drawing it rigid to still the nerves before you slid your fingers across his palm. Instantly, his own fingers seized your hand in a firm grasp—but he didn’t shake on it. It made you lift your head with mildly-alarmed curiosity, and when you met his gaze once more, you saw that same look of scrutiny he’d branded you with upon his arrival.

“Does the mouth on you talk, or’s it only there for the sake o’ pretty smiles? Which you still haven’t graced me with, by the way,” He said smoothly, features now polished with the same charm he often weaponised amongst his fans—as if you were some fangirl he’d expected to swoon under his influence.

You uttered a mental scoff at that. You’d be damned to let Soldier Boy believe your otherwise muteness was owed entirely to his presence—and while it definitely played a role, it wasn’t the singular circumstance holding your tongue hostage. Today had been extremely overwhelming. Draining. It had put a damper on your mood—and clearly made you come across as a meek thing star-struck into silence. But you were far from it, and if you were to work alongside Soldier Boy for the foreseeable years to come, you’d rather not have his first impression of you be a doting fangirl.

You firmed up your own grip on his hand, which the Supe acknowledged with a hitch of his brows and a subtle jut of his lower lip. “She speaks,” you replied eventually, thankful that the sound was clear and not breached by a quiver. “And she smiles when she’s smiled at, which I don’t seem to remember you doing, either,” you added with a certain spunk.

Soldier Boy grinned at that—perfect, white teeth blooming into view. But it didn’t last long, and it certainly wasn’t as authentic as the action was made to be. It quickly simmered into a laxity of his jaw, tongue poking out to drag across his lower lip—like he was attempting to understand you. “Alright,” he conceded ambiguously, his grip on your palm unrelenting. “Fair enough—and if you’re goin’ to be joinin’ my team, you better keep on makin’ points as valid as that,” he huffed half-heartedly, eyes making a bold dip toward your lips. “And some more,” he muttered distractedly.

You pretended not to notice his wandering, flirtatious eyes, your own gaze steadfast at eye level despite the faint hint of self-consciousness burning your body hot. “Our team,” you corrected thickly, which made the Supe’s attention snap back to you with a newfound focus that banished his play-boyish desires from existence.

“The hell you mean our team?” Soldier Boy demanded tensely, his voice roughened with a note of disapproval as he finally released your palm in disdain—like he’d touched something revolting. But he didn’t wait for your answer as his head swivelled to drink in the idling executives, and the glare on him must’ve been scathing because a few of them were instantly averting their attention—like students who didn’t want to be picked on by the prying teacher.

You watched the Supe retreat a stride as he sought to confront the only people in the room with more power than him—in title, at least. If it came down to getting physical, god bless their souls.

“The fuck is she on ‘bout, huh?” He snapped, his voice resonating across the room. “Payback’s mine—I built this team up from the fuckin’ ground. I own each and every one o’ those sorry shits—turned them into somethin’ worth a damn! So if you think I’m just gonna step aside and let some dreamy-eyed rookie take the credit, you better think again—or somebody’s gettin’ their useless fuckin’ head bashed in.”

You grimaced at the temper on him. It took one hell of an ego to speak so confidently about one’s ability’s, and you didn’t doubt Soldier Boy harboured enough of it to represent the entire male population. It made you wonder how his super suit could contain all six feet of it.

The executives had warned you about his temper prior to this meeting, and the likelihood of an outburst once the news finally reached him. You’d taken it with a grain of salt—unconvinced that the leader of Payback could be so comparable with a teenager grappling with puberty—but as you stood observing his slightly feral stance, you decided, then, that you’d seen it all.

Feeling as though you should have some say in this—being a new addition to the team in question—you cleared your throat with enough purpose to turn all the heads in the room. Soldier Boy abided last, as though it was a mockery of his importance to spare you the light of day. The Supe turned his body fully to face you, and the displeasure radiating from his rigid stance made you clench your jaw with careful consideration. The last thing you wanted was to ruffle his invisible cape the wrong way. You didn’t need that sort of drama on your first day—and you certainly had zero desire to entertain a feud that would taint the rest of your days with Vought-American.

You offered Soldier Boy a tiny nod of thanks—a peace-offering, but the Supe merely lifted his chin, as though undecided on his standpoint with you. You took your lower lip into a brief bite before releasing it with the first clause of your peace-treaty.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” you began lightly, taking a few steps toward him until you were returned to the personal vicinity from before.

“That so?” He mocked bitterly, watched you with careful eyes almost turned scornful. But he didn’t falter an inch from his position, so you figured that he was listening, anyway.

You lifted your hands in a steadying gesture. “Look, I’m not here to steal your spotlight—”

“Nobody’s stealin’ my spotlight, sweetheart,” he cut in with a scathing huff, and an equally heartfelt frown to accompany it.

Your nostrils flared with a breath of patience, providing the pause you needed to reason against the urge to strangle him. “Like I said,” you continued tensely. “Not here to steal your spotlight. The only reason Vought decided to recruit me is because I’ve been gaining attention with my most recent feat—”

“Yeah?” He interjected, arms coming up in a cross as his head tilted with the slightest interest—but somehow, it still felt like a mock. “And what’d ya do to get on Vought’s radar? Campaign for the destructive feminists? Screamin’ some free the nipple bull-shit at the top o’ your lungs?” He paused at that, lips drawing into a slight pout as his eyes flickered skyward. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he made some silent concession. “On second thought, they might be onto somethin’ with that,” he stated, eyes finding yours in a mischievous squint—like he sought to get a rise out of you.

You weren’t going to let him rub your hair the wrong way, so you disregarded that comment entirely—but it didn’t stop the word dick from blaring at the back of your mind. “It was a fire,” you clarified, which apparently was a detail mundane enough to make Soldier Boy’s lips draw back with disinterest. “Started in the park of a neighbourhood I used to patrol frequently. Burned right through to the nearest house, and the family got caught inside. Parents and three kids—one barely old enough to walk.”

As the Supe listened, the judgmental furrow in his brow didn’t relent, but there was some new interest to his attention because his chin jerked in your direction. “So?” He prompted. “What’d you do—tell it to fuck off? You a wind-whisperer or somethin’?”

Far from a wind-whisperer, but I know a few ways to tell you to fuck off, you remarked silently. Your tongue poked at the inside of your cheek in a summons of patience. “It’s easier to show than tell,” you said tensely, the explanation so ambiguous that Soldier Boy frowned questioningly.

“Well, we don’t got all fuckin’ da—” his words caught in his throat as he sputtered on some invisible lump, his arms uncrossing in a state of panic. Almost instantly, his cheeks flushed with a deep red only elicited by a lack of air, and the veins usually tracing his temple in secrecy now bulged with a concerning thickness. His eyes—bloodshot in the state of his asphyxiation—flickered to you with a primal fear that you didn’t believe he’d ever worn, before his attention dropped to the hand you’d brought up in a focused clench.

Decidedly satisfied with your display, you relaxed your flexed fingers, and it was the singular permission that the Supe needed to draw in a large bout of air, his chest rattling with a series of coarse coughs. He staggered over slightly, but caught himself just in time to remain respectable.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he choked out, frown lines carved into his forehead as he lifted his head to glare at you past stray strands of his bangs—freshly escaped from the prison of his collected hairdo. “Alright. . .” He murmured hoarsely, fashioning caution—and wiser words—as he straightened to full height and faced you once more. “I’ll admit, that’s not the worst parlour trick.” You knew that it was Soldier Boy for that was impressive, so you accepted it with a satisfied jut of your chin. Then, the Supe’s index finger lifted in your direction in a stern scolding. “But don’t fuckin’ do that again,” he warned.

You smirked at that, crossing your arms with the intent to negotiate. “Stop doubting my capabilities and I won’t have to,” you countered smugly.

Soldier Boy glanced around the room with a clenched jaw, as though unhappy with his dwindling sense of control, before turning to face you again. “Yeah, whatever,” he relented with a sniff, but you could have sworn that there was a shade of red still lingering in his cheeks. “So I take it you choked the shit outta that fire, too?”

“Mhm. Saved the whole family. Some guy saw the whole thing and reported it to. . . whoever the hell makes things like this happen. Next thing I knew, a Vought-American letter’s in my mailbox. Apparently, I left quite an impression on the public, and they thought it’d be good for the scores—having me partner up with the Soldier Boy.“

“The public is gonna love it!” One of the executives chimed in eagerly, as though seizing the opportunity to quench the lead Supe’s ruffled fire once and for all. But when Soldier Boy slowly turned to cast him a glare, he wilted back into silence.

Turning back to you, the Supe scoffed. “What—so we’d be like America’s next, hottest couple?”

You paused at that, mulling over the title. Admittedly, it had a certain ring to it. “You could put it that way,” you said thoughtfully. “Because if there’s one thing this country loves—it’s Supe scandals.”

For the first time, the lead Supe showcased an emotion other than scorn and condemnation—he laughed, genuinely laughed. “Ain’t that the goddamn truth,” he agreed gruffly, head briefly tilted to the ground as he considered your words with ridicule. “God bless fuckin’ America.” Then, he lifted his eyes to you, and they softened with just enough tolerance to come off as respect. “Whaddya say then?” He asked. “Ready to take on the role, sweetheart?” There was the faintest ghost of a smirk on his lips—like he was eager awaiting your reply.

“First of all, drop the sweetheart thing,” you told him flatly. “It’s not flattering, and it’s certainly not the panty-dropper you think it is.”

Soldier Boy’s brows lifted with brief offence at being called out, but then his chin dipped in surrender. “Fine. You got somethin’ else you prefer? Cause you still haven’t told me your name.” His eyes glinted with something mischievous as he added, “sweetheart.”

With a light shake of your head and a weakly amused smile, you offered him your name. He rolled it over his tongue once or twice, then winked in acknowledgment once he’d mentally marked it down.

“A beautiful name, but I still think sweetheart suits ya,” he wondered aloud.

You couldn’t help but smile at the nerve of the Supe. He’s attractive—he knew it, and so did you. And you also couldn’t deny the way some primal part of you seemed to flutter at his attention, but you were wise enough to know that it wasn’t exclusive—nothing ever was when it came to him. “Well, I guess it’s a shame that you’ve named every other woman you come across sweetheart,” you scoffed.

Soldier Boy’s smirk deepened, like he enjoyed your nerve. “What—you callin’ me some sorta floozy?”

You shrugged innocently. “If you really have to ask that, I think you know the answer.”

His chest rattled with a chuckle—you figured you should’ve started a tally of all the times you got the Supe to laugh. You might’ve been able to pawn it off to some museum showcasing historical events to behold.

“Yeah, alright,” he murmured half to himself, then sobered his attention as he cast you a scheming glance. “Just one last thing,” he said.

“What?”

Soldier Boy leaned into your vicinity—close enough to feel his breath flush your nose with warmth. “Think you can handle being tethered to my side ‘round the clock?” He murmured lowly, a smug smirk poking through as he eyed you like an object of desire.

You braced your chin with a boldness to match his. “Can you handle me?” You countered levelly, arms coming up in a cross as you searched his sultry stare.

“Damn right I can,” he murmured even softer than before—more like drawled, but it was no less intense. His attention snagged on the view of your lips for a few, hot seconds before fluttering back up to your eyes.

You stole your own glance of his lips, and you wandered whether they were good for anything other than offending every person he came across. “Really? Sure I won’t take your breath away?” You jabbed lightly, casting him a heavy-lidded stare.

Air jetted through his nostrils in an amused sound, his tongue poking through to sweep across his lips. “You already have,” he admitted with a heavy stare. “And I don’t think you’re quite finished yet, either.”

Those words took you by surprise, your head recoiling a measly centimetre, but Soldier Boy seemed perfectly content with his choice of words—unmoved by your reaction. With a mildly flustered swallow, you shook your head lightly. “You’re trouble, Soldier Boy,” you remarked carefully, but a fraction of a smile still managed to slip through.

“Ben,” he corrected, lips wound thin with a devilish smirk. “And you may be right—but I’m all the right kinds of trouble, sweetheart.”

ʿ Get to talkin', I get involved, like a rebound

Got no end game, got no result, got to stay downʾ

The first week at Vought-American had been quiet on the mission front, so you’d spent most of your time exploring the compound, though not without unsuccessfully shaking Ben’s company. More often than not, the lead Supe got his fill of entertainment by trailing around after you like a sheet of toilet paper you’d accidentally tracked from the bathroom. It drove you insane, but he was relentlessly clingy, so he’d gotten his way and stuck around.

And what made it worse, was that—against your will, you’d come to tolerate him. But as the weeks turned to months, tolerate became appreciate, and it wasn’t long before appreciate became crave. Coming to terms with the fact that you actually sought out Ben’s company had been a jarring moment in your character arc. You’d made yourself the promise—when it all began—not to let the faux title of America’s Power Couple influence your heart. But beneath all the Supe makeup, you hosted a very human heart that thumped loud and clear, and it was the ultimate weak link that betrayed your own.

You’d tried hard to fight the urges that had jumped you without any prior warning, but it felt impossible to escape when you were attached to his hip every other day—if not to cover one another in adrenaline-worthy missions, then to pose for the camera as the duo that America had come to adore. The news of your partnership had taken to the headlines almost immediately, and it meant that there was no going back on it—meant that you truly were stuck with him now.

Most of the public had voiced their adoration for your relationship, and as part of the act to make it believable, Vought had sent you both to events as a couple forced to act in love. There were shared hugs, hands draped across your waist during idle chatter, glances exchanged with intense passion, and lips contacting with a point to prove—and it’d all made it difficult for you to not join in on the public’s swooning.

In stark contrast to your own, very clear struggle with the push on professional boundaries, Ben seemed elated by it all. Marvelled in it, even. He seized every opportunity to make casual remarks that burned your cheeks hot, or made sure to hover his hand a fraction too long when lightening the load on your palms. He could see right through you, and he’d made true on his word to pose the trouble he’d warned you of.

One night, he’d taken it a step—one giant leap further.

After a late night, last minute meeting with the executives, you and Ben had exited the room in tandem, and it wasn’t supposed to lead anywhere past walking you back to your suite. But it did. It did—from the moment he cut in front of you with an earnest look morphing the features you’d come to memorise in the midst of your growing infatuation. And it did when he took the step that pressed your bodies close together, exchanging heat like a symbiosis that had always meant to exist. And it did when his hand came up to frame your jaw with a gentleness you’d never seen him practice, his lips lowering onto yours with a point that invalided your every pre-conceived notion on his capabilities.

You should have pulled away—if you’d known what was good for you because you knew that Ben was no role model for long-term commitments. And you knew that your heart would be the first to find that out somewhere down the line. But because you chose to listen to what was good for your body, instead, you pressed your lips against his with a force that made you an equal accomplice to bad decisions.

You should have pulled away, but you didn’t.

ʿ It's the way that you making me feel like nobody ever loved me

Like you do, you doʾ

The door to Ben’s suite slammed closed behind you before his hands seized your waist firmly, his lips hot on the trail to provide all the reinforcement needed to corner you against the nearest wall. With a passionate lack of care, the length of your back was pressed flush against the cement as his palms glided over the meat of your hips, squeezing the anatomy with an appreciative firmness before they glided to the underside of your thighs.

His lips feuded with your own in a sloppy and heated make out, then dipped into the divot of your chin when he buckled an inch to gather the momentum needed to hoist you up. Your arms instinctually found his neck in a vice grip, legs coming up to wrap around his waist as he successfully—and effortlessly—lifted you into his grasp. His head leaned back into yours to slur a brief kiss across your lips, large palms tightening around your thighs as he turned and steered the both of you toward the nearest sofa.

You were blind to where the sofa began, but Ben lowered your form just enough for the armrest to graze the small of your back before you were tossed a very short distance into the cushioned length of the couch. The thud of your back against the sofa knocked a breath from your lungs, but you weren’t afforded the chance to replenish it before the Supe came crashing down on you with one motive in mind: devouring you.

His lips crashed into yours once more, one hand curling around your nape, tussling your hair as he pressed you further into his famished lips, while the other skilfully worked at undressing you. And it wasn’t long before he was dragging a wet trail of kisses down the arch of your neck, around each perked bud of your breasts, and down the line of your abdomen.

“Fuck, Ben, it feels so good,” you breathed out appreciatively, head burrowing back into the sofa and toes curling into the material as he flicked and dragged his tongue through your folds—tracing all sorts of patterns he’d perfected through prior experiences you’d chosen to bar from your mind.

His tongue was rough—impatient, and it did a splendid job at summoning your high. But his hands trapped your thighs against the sofa to deny the buck of your hips that would’ve given you the last push you needed to fall into the abyss of pleasure, and before you could complain, he pulled you up at the wrist and spun you around.

Positioned ass up and face down, he smoothed over the skin of your ass with an appreciative hum. “You look good like this, sweetheart,” he remarked crassly—only because he knew it’d burn you the darkest shade of red. And it wasn’t long before he slid himself into your welcoming entrance, his thrusts driven with by purpose—rough, quick and straight to the point.

He fanned a hand over the small of your back, pressing you further into the sofa while the other found firm grip at your hip. The space was filled with a raw skin-on-skin percussion that sounded primal—shameful, almost, but you were so far lost to the drilling of his tip against your cervix that you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You craved him—craved the way he made you feel. And you showed him through the slurred moans pouring from your mouth with every snap of his hips against you.

His broad chest pressed against your bare back as he brought himself to your ear. “Jesus, you’re somethin’,” he growled, his thrusts intensifying to the point of flattening your lower half against the sofa. “You’re everythin’,” he husked against your hair, one hand coming up to wrap around the front of your neck while the other tightened into a bruise-worthy grip at your hip, and as he pummelled you into the cushions, all you could think about was how you never wanted this to end—and you also hoped that the sofa wouldn’t break.

ʿ You kinda feel like you tryin' to get away from me

If you do, I won't moveʾ

You counted another night in Ben’s bed, where raked your gaze over his sleeping form, and it marvelled you that he could look so at peace with himself—with life. In waking times, where he constantly barrelled from one mission to the other, he gave the sort of impression that he didn’t know a second of peace—like he’d been made solely for war and conflict. So seeing him like this—it warmed something inside of you. But the feeling didn’t linger when you swallowed thickly with a guilty realisation.

You’d lied to yourself.

What was supposed to be a once-off, one-night stand had turned to weeks of ritualistic, late-night visits. Almost every other night, you and Ben were tackling one another—a battle of bodies and orgasms. It wasn’t supposed to go beyond that first night—and once it did, you’d told yourself that it wasn’t supposed to go beyond a physical relationship.

But it had—for you, at least. You hadn’t exactly had the nerve to ask Ben whether he saw you as anything more than a warm body to pass time—didn’t think you could handle that punch to the gut. But it’d been slowly eating you up inside—the uncertainty of it all.

Deciding that it wasn’t tonight’s problem, you cosied up beside his sleeping form, eyes drifting closed to summon a sleep that would quell your mental misery. It took a while, and after a few tosses and turns, you’d settled in with your back facing Ben. And at some point—just as you started to swoon with the first glimpse of dreams—Ben’s hand shifted to wrap around your waist. That singular action provided all the comfort you needed to slip off into easy dreams.

The days following that night had taken a complete detour in energy. Ben had been uncharacteristically distant and curt—almost as though he’d reverted back to the hardened persona you’d thought you’d worked your way through with the weeks spent at Vought—with the time spent at his side. You had no concrete idea on what had installed the distance between you, but you suspected that the Supe had come to realise the feelings you bore for him outside of a night of fun.

It must’ve deterred him because he kept your every interaction short—filled with nothing but droning reports and information about the next missions to come. It was agonising to endure, and you wanted nothing more than to go back to the way things had been before.

But they didn’t.

Back in the warmer days—prior to the current, cold ones that currently hosted you both as strangers—you would find Ben waiting outside your door, craving more than what your body had to offer him. Company, chatter that wasn’t rehearsed down to the last line, and friendship. He didn’t have many friends—you’d once told him that directly in the heat of an argument, but hadn’t looked too marred by it. Despite his ego, he could admit that he wasn’t the easiest person to tolerate.

But you had learnt to, and maybe that had played a role in morphing your relationship of pleasure into a relationship of the mind, body and soul—all at once. And you realised then, that maybe Ben did share all of your finer feelings. It would certainly explained the way he’d suddenly turned his back on everything you’d once shared. As much as you wanted to chase after him with the question armed at the ready, eager to gun down the excruciating tension, you chose to offer your surrender, instead.

Ben wouldn’t come around with your pestering. He had his own things to figure out. And when he did, you could only hope he’d take the initiative of returning to you—unshielded, unhardened, vulnerable. That he’d acknowledge the truth that hung over both your heads like a brooding storm cloud—the truth that what had started out as a hollow title of professionalism had been filled to the brim with countless banter, near-death experiences, and shared warmth that warranted a type of closeness only this lifestyle could provoke.

That you were more than partners—more than two people playing make believe for the public eye.

That you were in love.

You could only wait and hope that he’d see it, feel it, and own it.

ʿ I just cry for no reason, l just pray for no reasonʾ

On the drive to the next mission, the vehicle’s air was thick with tension. Ben manned the driver seat, so there wasn’t much opportunity for his stare to forsake the road ahead—but when it did, it never lingered on you for more than a second.

He gave nothing away, either. He’d gone back to being as mysterious as when you’d first met him, and it made your heart ache. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, head turned to gaze out of the window as though it could shun the taunting reality into non-existence—but it didn’t.

Each passing second of silence weighed heavier than the next, and Ben said nothing, did nothing to alleviate the crushing force of it. So all you could do, as you found yourself drinking in the buildings and trees whisking across your vision, was hope and pray that he’d live up to his title, act the soldier and put an end to this misery by confessing his feelings for you.

But you couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that it was a day you’d never come to outlive.

ʿ I give thanks for the day

For the hours and another way, another life breathin'ʾ

The mission had taken every wrong turn possible, and you’d been caught in the cross-fire of the enemy’s newest anti-supe contraption that had left you severely wounded—injuries that not even your super-abled body could resolve.

Your vision was mostly blurred with the severe bloodloss, so you couldn’t make sense of the shapes whisking past your vision as medics carried you through Vought’s compound. The pain festering at multiple sites upon your body was debilitating and brutal, almost enough of a force to persuade you into letting go of life entirely—but a hand kept you grounded, tethered, through the dragged out minutes that it took to set you down on that operating table.

Ben’s frantic face appeared in front of yours, but most detail of his features were lost to your disorientation. His lips moved with words that sounded distant, and your face scrunched with the frail effort to try and perceive them—but you couldn’t. Darkness began pressing at the corners of your vision, threatening to drag you into a sleep that had no return. You caught the way one of the assistant’s placed a hand onto Ben’s shoulder, tugging at him with a passion that the Supe didn’t permit—if evident by the way he straightened up to send his fist flying into the assistant’s face.

Guards showed up to contain him, and he cast you one last glance with a mouth gaped around a shout you couldn’t acknowledge. You wanted to reach out to him, to tell him you’d be okay, but you couldn’t. The world weighed heavy on you now, blanketing you with a darkness that felt comforting—tempting you into fluttering your eyes closed for a much needed break.

And you listened.

For a while, there was nothing. You floated through endless, dark matter, ceasing to exist in the bottomless space. And then a light beamed through, so blinding that your eyes screwed shut to avert the assault, and when you opened them again, you were greeted with the view of Vought’s hospital. You blinked many times, fighting off the haze that had consumed you for god knows how long, and when you finally mustered up the strength to lift your head, you found Ben nestled at the side of your bed.

His cheek was settled into the cross of his arms, his eyes sown shut in a steady sleep. You don’t know how long you’d been asleep, and how long he’d been camping it out beside your comatose form, but what you did know, is that you were thankful to have survived the whole ordeal. Thankful to see another day—to see Ben here with you.

With great effort, you reached out a hand to brush through his hair—and he’d always been a light sleeper, but this time, he didn’t stir. Not immediately, at least. It took a few surfs of your hand through hair before his eyes fluttered open to drink you in, and it was then that you noticed just how deep the skin beneath his eyes had sunken—as though the wait he’d endured to acquaint you in the land of the living once more had burned through everything that he was. Exhausted him to the point of a humanly slumber.

Instantly, Ben collected himself into a sit, hand reaching to grab yours fiercely. “You’re okay,” he breathed, his green eyes brimming with raw relief, and slightly teary along the edges. “Jesus, I thought I’d lost you,” he choked out gruffly, jaw clenching around his worst fear.

You smiled weakly, warmly, sympathising with his pain as your own eyes grew teary. “I’m right here,” you murmured meekly, your voice cracking with the prolonged disuse. “I’m not going anywhere,” you added in a soft, broken whisper.

Ben’s composure cracked at that, and instead of responding with words he had no experience utilising, he leaned himself toward you to place a chaste kiss on your forehead. When he pulled back to gaze at you, something in his expression shifted, and he felt compelled to speak, anyways.

“You wouldn’t stand a damn chance, anyway, ‘cause I’d follow you all the way to the edge of the earth—holdin’ that fuckin’ lifeline that’s keepin’ you tethered to a sorry dick like me. ‘Cause I’m selfish—and ‘cause I’m nothin’ worth a damn without you.”

Your heart imploded at that, the tears that had been idling about your eyes now cascading down your cheeks uncontrolled. Ben’s hands shifted to cradle your face with an unfamiliar tenderness—one that you could, and would, grow accustomed to—as he leaned himself down to place a kiss on your lips.

When he came face to face with you once more, his eyes brimmed with adoration. “Fuckin’ hell, I love you—I do. I’ve been a real pussy ‘bout it these last few weeks, but I do,” he murmured.

“I know,” you told him gently, leaning your cheek further into his hold. “I’ve always known—I just needed you to be the first to say it. You needed to decide what you wanted for yourself—”

“You,” he cut in instantly, earnestly. “You—god, you’re all I want. Nothin’ else—nobody else.”

You smiled weakly at that. “Then I’m all yours.”

ʿ I did it all 'cause it feel good

But wouldn't do it all if it feel bad

Your recovery was slow, but Ben had been by your side through it all, handing off missions to the rest of Payback while he nursed you back to full health within the comforts of his suite. Nothing you asked of him was ever too much, and it made you burn with a newfound love for him—made you fall in love with him all over again.

Better live your life

We are running out of timeʾ

Little did you know that the next mission to come would be as heart-breaking as the last. You and Ben had gotten split up in the midst of Niaguara, and the gunfire was so heavy that you’d lost tabs on his whereabouts during your attempt to take cover. All around you, bullets whisked through the air. It was defeaning—overwhelming, and you almost thought it’d never end short of claiming your life.

And then the scene around you only intensified when an aircraft suddenly blared overhead, and your head tilted back against the brick wall shielding you from death as you tried to get a glimpse of the structure. But when you saw what dangled from the aircraft—a contraption immobilising and holding Ben’s unconscious form captive, your heart seized up on the spot with such panic that a bullet might as well have pierced right through it, ending all that you were.

And you almost wish it did—that you’d been put out of your misery right there and then because as you watched the aircraft grow smaller with the distance, you weren’t sure you’d ever see Ben again.

And like he’d told you back at the hospital—that wasn’t a life worth living

ʿ Love, let's talk about love

Is it anything and everything you hoped for?ʾ

As soon as you’d recouped with the rest of Payback, they’d enlightened you on who the aircraft belonged to—that is was the Russians that had kidnapped Ben. It sparked some sort of hope within you, knowing that you had a lead to follow, and you’d taken it upon yourself that evening to plan out his rescue with Vought’s executives.

It was then that the jarring truth of it all had been revealed, that Ben’s kidnap had been staged by the company—and Payback—itself. You’d been outraged and overcome with an anger you hadn’t thought yourself capable of, doing something regrettable in the process.

It all happened so fast—your hand curling into a fist that drained the lungs of the closet executive to the point of no return. It only hit you once his body dropped to the floor, never to stir again despite the remaining, panicked executives rushing to his aids. And they’d cast you horrified stares, something that told you you were done for if you didn’t make a run for it now—so you did.

You didn’t look back as you fleed the compound, not once, but you made a beeline toward an office you knew held all the information of Vought’s dirty secrets, adding another body or two to your fatality count to acquire the files that would lead you directly to the Russian compound holding Ben captive.

The journey there had been a hassle, almost enough to make you want to give up—but then you pictured how helpless and afraid Ben must’ve felt, and it fuelled you with the power you needed to keep on going. You needed to see him again. You would see him again.

You’d managed to gain access to the compound under the alias of a compound v scientist, and given your very real knowledge and experience on the sciences, it was an easy role to assume—and one that brought you all the more closer to seeing Ben again.

But the circumstances of your reunion was far from ideal—Ben strapped to an experimenting table while a lab assistant approached you presenting a vile of poison you were to inject into his veins, all without a single guess about what it’d do to him. How it’d completely remake him. But you did it, anyway because your compliance meant building trust with the Russians, and trust paved way toward power—influence. And that meant that you could take control of these sessions—keep him safe.

So you grabbed the needle and approached Ben, who drank you in with an amalgamation of relief, betrayal and fear all at once. But the minute you sank that needle into his arm—all his emotions sobered up into one, single thing. Hatred. And it ate away at everything that you were, and continued to do so in all the years that passed.

But despite the heartbreak, you kept at it—kept on returning with needles of poison you’d modified with just enough care to spare him disastrous side effects, finding solace in that fact to ignore the way each dose completely remade him. You weren’t sure how much of the Soldier Boy you’d come to know and love would be left by the time the Russians concluded the experiment, but you did know that you were doing a necessary evil to keep him safe from something far sinister, should you be taken off the experiment.

And thankfully, that day never came. You’d made contact with a group known as The Boys—who launched the plan to free both yourself and Ben from the compound in exchange for a favour that only Ben could fulfil. Once he’d done it, you were both free to pursue your newfound freedom, and to rekindle the bond that the tragic years had eaten away at. And you were given the chance to explain that everything you’d done to him had been done from a place of love—as fucked up as it sounded.

And it wasn’t a type of love you’d ever dreamt of knowing—of showing him.

ʿ Or do the feeling haunt you?ʾ

Ben watched your lip quiver with the memories of the harmful emotions and experiences that he hadn’t been around to shield you from. The time with the Russians had broken him in every manner physical—all part of the plan to build him up into something far more lethal. But you? You’d been mentally reconstructed.

As you delved deeper into your experience working under the Russians, he listened to you speak with a heaviness he didn’t usually acknowledge—not him, super-abled Soldier Boy, strongest man alive with nary a concept on humanly burdens. Emotional and physical. But the words that slunk from your mouth settled over him like a deadweight that had him feeling—for the first time ever—like he was helpless in escaping it. Like he was weak.

He felt weakened by the guilt of knowing what you had been forced to endure. The strength you’d mustered up in order to stick poisoned needles into his arm, and the strength you’d needed to keep your chin elevated with the memory of the goodness in your heart. And he felt weakened by the guilt of knowing, there and then, just how much you truly loved him.

It was crushing.

He’d never mastered the depths and tides of his emotions, but you’d taught him how to surf the currents with just enough control to remain afloat. And it was a regrettable skill on some days—days like this—where he was forced to feel things he’d perfected the art of ignoring for. Because now, he felt it all.

And it haunted him—the way you love.

The way you love him. The way you’d do anything for him. The way you’d bargained away years of your life to ensure that the years of his were bought and secured. The way you’d once promised you’d stick with him through it all, and the way you’d followed through. Because deep down, he didn’t feel like he deserved any of it.

The guilt of knowing your love—it haunted him.

ʿ I know the feeling haunt youʾ

Ben found his lips wandering every inch of your skin with a need to memorise the taste of your flesh. He pressed kisses the soft apples of your cheeks, to the bridge of your nose, to the fragile sheets of your lids after you’d simmered into a symphony of pleasure. And because he’s greedy, he even found his nose burrowed into the crook of your neck while his lips branded the arch—where he inhaled the scent of you and surfed a wave of ecstasy that put the bona fide drug to shame.

You were an assault on his senses, disorienting every sensible instinct he’d spent years forging. His instincts were critical. They made him strong and driven and deserving of his title as a soldier. But you. . . you were like a foreign scent that had wafted beneath his unassuming nose—a scent that he just couldn’t ignore. A scent that triggered some other, unexplored instinct within him, and it compelled him to blindly follow you. Allowed himself just enough slack to be consumed by you.

Once he'd worked his way into the wet warmth between your thighs, his thrusts were slow and sensual. Patient. He wanted to savour every second of you-more like needed to. He gripped one of your thighs with a firm gentleness, the other arm venturing beside your head to prop himself up as he carried his hips toward yours. Your hands curled around the muscle of his biceps in a sensual line, moans spewing from your lips before your palms flattened over the toned contours of his back—nails gripping his flesh to keep yourself grounded against his ascension-worthy movements.

He took his sweet time feeling on, listening to, and indulging you. And once you begged him for more, he delivered. He nurtured your high with a quickened pace, releasing your thigh to join the other you'd wrapped around him. He settled both arms on either side of your head, and there, he hovered himself over your lips, pressing scattered, incomplete kisses to the tender flesh while he focused on the tension connecting—and threatening—to end you both.

“Just like that, Ben,” you breathed into his ear, your hand curling around the nape of his neck, where you clung to him like any other hair embedded within his skin.

“Yeah—I got you,” Ben grunted against your lips, air jetting through the slits of his grit teeth as he endured the overwhelming storm of pleasure. He pressed a firm kiss to the corner of your lips, eyes briefly flickering up to where your expression contorted with each of his thrusts. And he studied everything—the bold furrow of your brows, the lustful haze glazing your eyes, and the way your nose scrunched with every other prod of his manhood. You were breathtaking, and it drove him feral. “I got you,” he repeated—promised.

He felt as the hand you’d furled around his neck drifted up the expanse, fingers ploughing through the field of his hair to entangle with the unruly strands. His eyes fluttered closed—however briefly—at the way you tousled his hair. The sensation was overwhelming, hypnotising—almost enough of a physical persuasion on his shoulders to release a year’s worth of tension. You’d had that effect to you from the moment he’d met you, and somehow, it’d always worked on him.

It wasn't long before you finally let go of yourself, and he tossed a line of his own to match. Then, you were briefly smothered by the weight of his panting form before he rolled himself over to the side and pulled you into his arms. You instantly took to nestling his one arm in the crook of your neck, and his other moved to drape loosely across your waist while you drifted into an instantaneous sleep.

As Ben laid there, curled around the fragile body he’d tucked into the safety of his grip, he felt like he’d been reborn—like the hands the Russians had forged to meld iron could now cradle fragile glass without instilling a single crack. Like he’d been modelled into something—somebody more than his upbringings. Somebody worthy enough to be bestowed with the highest honours of loving you.

It amazed him, really, how you’d unintentionally strolled into his life with zero intention to take up space within it. And yet, you’d managed to selfishly hog every inch of his heart—making him feel things that forced him to reminisce the misery of humanity and feelings. You filled his heart with adrenaline that was unlike any he’d ever hopped himself up on amongst the battlefield. That adrenaline was potent—wired him to flee the dangers constantly gunning for him. But this adrenaline—the type only you could get his heart to muster—it drew him in like a whirlpool that would swallow him whole given the chance.

It made him want to do anything but flee.

Your grit, your wit, and your unwillingness to let him dangle from the rope he’d hung himself from had left more of a mark on him than the binding of his trauma. For once, he actually craved to memorise the lines left behind by the cuffs you’d unknowingly slung around his wrists—tugging him along after you like a dickless mutt begging for some long-lost action. And he blindly followed. He didn’t question it. For once, he didn’t want to question it.

He only wanted you.

God, admitting it made him feel like a goddamn swooning pussy—but you’d once smacked him across the shoulder for saying that aloud. He’d get better at it—the whole holding hands and professing feelings thing. He would. Admittedly, it was difficult following through on a resolution so soft he could have throttled it between two firm fingers—but he’d made you a promise, and it served as an armour that shielded his word against any intrusive impulse he’d allowed to jab at his life for far too long.

As he laid there, savouring the bare warmth of your body pressed against his with every hushed breath, he couldn’t have pictured a more ideal view. He’d once thought it a big, stinking pile of bull that one person could demand everything that you were—that somebody could ever matter that much to warrant his unfaltering devotion. But now, he knew it to be true. He knew it with every glance he stole of you.

The thought of losing you haunted him.

It haunted him with the same fear that the solar system would regard the loss of their sun with—the singular body drawing in and holding everything together. Making it whole. Complete. Functional. In the same way, you’d become a sort of North Star in the black expanse of his heart, orientating the soul he’d thought he’d lost ahold of a long time ago. You kept him grounded and guided. Safe.

And in all that he was and ever would be—everything that you’d thought him capable of—he’d devote it to keeping you safe, too.

Even if it killed him.

Because the thought of having you plucked from his grasp was one that he couldn’t entertain without a debilitating dread. Life without you wouldn’t be truly living—it would be boiled down to fruitless survival. It’d be the misery he’d been trapped in before you came and snagged onto the latch that finally set him free. And he couldn’t—wouldn’t be forced back into that cage.

So, the arm he’d loosely strung around your waist neglected all careful consideration as he pulled you tighter against him. You stirred briefly with a groan so soft and slurred that he might as well have imagined it—but he clung to it like a mantra of just how real this all was. It was selfish, maybe, trapping you against him with a fervour that wouldn’t have him letting up anytime soon—but he did it, anyway.

Ben wasn’t supposed to be human enough to be marred by anything. Physical wounds could scarcely be inflicted, but scars couldn’t be left behind. It was an exhilarating reality—one that made him feel invincible. Fearless. But you—the thought of letting you go, it was unbearable. Crippling. Fear-worthy.

And it haunted him.

──────────────────────

a/n ─ first of all, i was on my sza shit more than usual and the lyrics of this song resonated with me and the sb’s unfinished story i was thinking about. i had always wanted to do some sort of story portrayal for how he and fem!supe!reader met, sooo have this ig?! second of all, i did not forget about wrapping this fic up, i just got severely demotivated and side-tracked. oopsie. i swear i’ll post the last part some day. for now, it’s rotting in my drafts, unedited and with a few gaps that need to be filled. my motivation comes and goes like the auroras, so that’ll come when it comes lmfao. thirdly, i hope you guys enjoyed this. i started out feeling great about this, but i’ve been sitting with a massive migraine as i finished it, so it feels like ive placed words that dont quite click. idk? 🤷‍♀️ also im like 8 followers from 700 so take this as my wtf thank you sm gift!! 😭 this is not proofread bc it’s 1 am and i have class tomorrow so actually i apologise for the horrendous amount of errors you’ve likely come across—i’ll fix it tomorrow, i just wanted to get this out like i promised

thank you for reading! all likes, comments & reblogs are deeply appreciated

tags ─ @gibson-g1rl @bohemianblasphemy @fallbhind @angelicjackles @deansbbyx @titsout4jackles @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @honeyryewhiskey @florchids @floralscented @deansbeer @deansbbyx @figthoughts @dulcescorderitas @whisperingdaze @st4rmarley @bakugotypecrashout @jaydensluv @chi-raz @youdontknowe @misatxox @lixiesbrowniess @ilovedeanwinchester4 @beelzebzb

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© bluemerakis ─ do not plagiarise or steal any of my works.

[lea-russo333]

Recovery's hard <3 Leah Williamson

hii pookies!

It's been a while since I've posted anything which I apologize for. I got slapped with the biggest writers block ever. which (if I'm being honest) I'm still struggling through but yolo✌️. I got a smidge of inspiration today and decided to finish a small blurb🤭

hurt/comfort

warnings: 18+, themes of SH (pls don't read if that's a triggering topic for you)

proofread: somewhat

You hadn't meant for her to see you like this, she was supposed to be out tonight. A special team dinner to celebrate their recent win.  

The feeling of guilt started to pool at the bottom of your stomach, you had ruined her night. 

Your eyes glassed over as you watched her hand on your thigh, pushing hard against you, sending a jolt of pain up your body. She squeezed your hand gently in a silent apology. Her hands worked quickly, tightly securing the bandage. You felt her lips place a soft kiss on your once exposed skin.  

She looked up towards you, eyes trying to find yours, but you refused to meet her gaze, worried to see what you might find in them. 

Would she be annoyed, angry, disappointed? 

“Hey” Her voice caught your attention, pulling you slightly out of the thoughts that were beginning to consume you.  

“what's on your mind love?” she questioned, her hand cupping your cheek with softness the other still keeping its place on your thigh, rubbing soft patterns along the bandaged skin. 

“I'm sorry” the whispered words left your lips so softly she almost didn't hear them. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for baby” she sat down beside you, pulling you to sit in her lap. Her fingers making their way to your hair, “this happens, okay? Its apart of process” 

The tears in your eyes started to fall at her words. You knew this was a part of recovery, a part of getting better, but it didn't make it any less hard, no matter how many times it happens.  

“How about we get up, hm? And we get into some comfortable clothes and cuddle in bed?” she asked, dragging her fingers through your hair. “We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, love- not yet anyway”. You nodded your head at her question, arms going around her neck as she carried you out of the bathroom towards your shared bedroom, placing you on top of the bed gently.   

You watched as she pulled clothes out of her side of the wardrobe, both for you and her.  your eyes beginning to stray back down to your wounded skin, tears still flowing as guilt pooled in your stomach, again.  

“Arms up” Leahs hushed voice reached your ear as her finger tugged on the hem of your tank top. Your arms moved mechanically, feeling your top slide over your head; quickly being replaced by a familiar arsenal hoodie. A warm comfort filled your body as the smell of Leahs perfume wrapped around you like a hug. 

Your eyes strayed on her figure as you watched her change into her own clothes before climbing under the covers of the bed, her arms reaching out towards you. A small smile tugged at your lips as you took in the sight in front of you, her hair a perfect mess on top of her head; blond flyways framing her face and her grey hoodie pulled slightly over her head. Her lips holding a slight smile as you looked at her. 

“Quit staring and get over here” her voice was playful as she pulled back the cover, beckoning you over. You quickly obliged, practically launching your body towards your gf and flopping your body down into her awaiting arms. Her hand found its way to your hair, softly stroking her fingers through the curls while the other found its way to your waist, pulling you in closer to her.  

You’re not sure how long you stayed there but the feeling of Leahs fingers carding themselves through your hair and tracing delicate patterns along your exposed skin; made your eyes heavy with sleep. A small yawn slipped from your mouth as you nuzzled your face closer in the crook of her neck. 

“Go to sleep my love” her lips pressed a longing kiss to the top of your head, spreading a warm feeling of comfort through your body as you closed your eyes. 

“I love you” your voice came out muffled, laced with sleepiness, making a small slip pass Leahs lips. 

“I love you more.” 

[skywalkr-nberrie]

Can’t go past this post without sharing some of my own!!! Because Book Version Anidala will always be one of the bests, second only to the movies!!!

Padmé meeting Anakin for the first time and feeling (in the Force bond with him) that she’s met a thread in her fate!! 🧵

Padmé outwardly saying Anakin is the only Jedi for her 😭

OWK (aka other members from a 3rd person pov) feeling the “soraring echos of transcendent love” between Anakin and Padmé!

Padmé loving + hyping her man this way in the beginning of ROTS novel

Their whole flirt game during their date in the Brotherhood book 🤧

Even more flirting (by Padmé 🤣) in Queen’s Hope.

Anidala always at the scene of the crime in making their love everyone’s problem once again with OWK playing as the 3rd member party as usual lmao.

DID I MENTION THE BROTHERHOOD (celebration sex) DATE?!?! Whajskakak-

Anakin noticing how Padmé didn’t treat him any differently even after getting a mechanical arm because she isn’t bothered by it cause she accepts and loves him as he is in Thrawn: Alliances 🥺🥰

Being an Anidala shipper means can’t help loving them in their different fonts 🤣

Official version (films.)

Clone Wars (2003) version

The Clone Wars (2008) version (at selective points only.)

Comic books version (Attack of The Clones graphic novel)

Lego Star Wars version

Extended material version

+ Toys/Merchandise version

Bonus: Topps card version!!

[miscling]

chastity week seven!

is it week seven? that's so long... 49 days in... 55 to go... by this time next week it'll have passed the half way mark!

it is beginning to realise that asking for permission to cum is probably never going to win, but it still has to ask, right? can it please have permission to cum? if not that, how about permission to edge? no? well, any option would be a reward, that's the whole point of this!

shock hour was very fun last week, it was shocked for pretty much the whole hour, which it enjoyed so much. this thing hasn't had a spanking in such a long time though, it'd be nice to change that! can it have a spanking?

of course, that 'add four days' option is starting to look a little large, do you want to cash in yet? last week it was the lowest voted option. if it's lowest this week the number's going to double again... (it says, knowing exactly what's going through everyone's mind right now...)

as usual, the rules are that the lowest voted option gets more intense for next week's poll. spamblogging is allowed so long as you share the poll somewhere people will see it too. the winning option resets for next week back to where it started.

so what will it be?

have fun!

[deliciousangelfestival]

Change Of Heart - 5 (Edited ver.)

Character: Bucky x Female! Reader

Theme: Angst, tragedy, romance.

Summary: The interviewer asked her a provocative question:

“If you were offered a million dollars, would you leave your partner?”

Without hesitation, she replied with a smirk, “Give me one dollar, and I’ll leave him this second.”

True to her word, she walked away, leaving the man stunned and searching for answers. Now, he’s desperately trying to find her, grappling with the haunting question—why would she leave him so easily?

And is there more to her departure than a single dollar could ever explain?

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Bucky stood near the dock, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat. The waves lapped gently against the wooden posts, a rhythmic sound that did little to soothe the restlessness inside him. The sky had begun to darken, shades of deep blue swallowing the last traces of daylight.

"Sir, it's getting dark," his secretary reminded him softly, standing a few steps behind.

Bucky didn't respond immediately. Instead, he exhaled, his breath visible in the cold air. Then, out of nowhere, he asked, "Did your parents divorce?"

The secretary blinked at the sudden question. "No, sir. But my sister did. She divorced her first husband."

Bucky hummed, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the ocean stretched endlessly. "Was it the right choice?"

"I think so," the secretary admitted. "She smiles more with her second husband. He was divorced too. Somehow, they complete each other. It’s like they both learned from their past mistakes."

Bucky finally turned to look at him. "How long have they been together now?"

"Five years."

Silence settled between them. Bucky lowered his gaze, staring at the ground as if lost in thought. His parents divorced when he was young. His father changed wives like the seasons, to where Bucky had lost count of how many stepmothers he'd had. And his mother—she had become a well-known rich cougar, the kind who made headlines.

When two broken people come together, they begin to heal. But what happened between him and you... something still hurts deep down. Though both of you completed each other, seeing you leave felt like it wasn’t enough.

Bucky had spent years running from his past, avoiding the feelings he buried deep within himself. He'd been afraid of truly connecting, terrified that giving in to love would mean vulnerability—and he’d never allowed himself to be vulnerable. But with you, something changed.

He started to open up, piece by piece. He had found solace in your presence, a kind of comfort he never thought he’d experience. You made him feel like maybe it was okay to be human.

But even as the wounds began to heal, a part of him remained fractured. The scars weren’t completely gone. And as he watched you walk away, that deep-seated fear—of losing someone, of being left behind—came rushing back. He realized he wasn’t as whole as he thought he was.

Without another word, Bucky pulled out his phone. His fingers hovered over the screen momentarily before he made the call. He held the device to his ear and started walking, his steps slow and aimless as he paced along the dimly lit dock. A few streetlights flickered, casting long shadows over the worn planks beneath his feet.

The therapist answered after a few rings.

"My advice?" The voice on the other end was calm. "Let her go. Don't stop her. If she wants to come back, she will."

Bucky’s jaw clenched. His grip on the phone tightened. He didn’t agree.

"Do you have any sexual desire toward her?"

"No," he answered without hesitation.

"Do you feel safe when you're around her?"

"...Yes."

"Do you want to come home faster when you know she's waiting there?"

Bucky exhaled through his nose. "Yes."

The therapist paused before asking the last question.

"Do you have feelings for her?"

This time, Bucky hesitated. His lips parted, but the words didn't come as easily. "...No." But his voice lacked conviction.

The therapist remained silent for a beat before finally speaking.

"It will grow on you. Just wait and see."

Bucky lowered the phone, staring at the dark waters ahead. The wind picked up, tousling his hair, but he barely noticed. His chest felt tight, the answer lingering in his mind.

Had he really meant it?

The Next Day

Bucky followed you.

He shouldn’t have, but he did.

He was already waiting by the dock when you returned from your scuba diving lesson. You looked different—lighter, freer. The usual quiet presence he was familiar with had been replaced by someone more expressive, more alive. You laughed while talking to strangers, engaging with them in a way he had never seen before. When you were with him, you spoke to his colleagues, sure, but never like this. With them, it was polite conversation, surface-level. But now? You were glowing.

And Bucky didn't know how to feel about that.

You spotted him standing near the railing, and your smile faltered for just a second before returning. Surprise flickered in your eyes, but there was something else too—relief, maybe.

"You're still here," you said, your voice carrying a mix of disbelief and quiet gladness.

Bucky was about to respond, but then his gaze caught on you peeling off your wetsuit.

He froze.

It wasn’t like you were undressing provocatively—you were simply taking off your gear. But in the two years you'd been together, neither of you had ever seen the other completely bare. You had shared a home, a bed even, but always with an unspoken distance.

His throat went dry, and he forced himself to turn away, his jaw tightening.

Bucky had seen countless women undress before, but this—this was different. This was you. And it was as if some part of his brain refused to process it. He waited in silence, staring at the dark water until he heard your footsteps approaching.

You had changed into dry clothes and now stood beside him, leaning against the dock railing.

“I guess Grandpa won’t allow you to come home,” you said.

Bucky let out a dry chuckle. “How did you know?”

“Just a hunch.”

He exhaled sharply, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You’re right. But I guess… I failed. You don’t want to come back.”

“Not yet.”

Silence. The waves rolled in and out, filling the space between you.

You looked out at the sea, your expression unreadable. Then, as if speaking more to yourself than to him, you asked, “Do you ever wonder why we’re compatible?”

It was a good question. Because in truth, on paper, you shouldn’t be.

Most marriage contracts like yours didn’t last. Some couples couldn’t even stand each other for the duration of their agreement. They broke it off before the ink had dried.

You exhaled through your nose, then said with a smirk, “Because both of us are ambitious as fuck.”

Bucky scoffed. He almost laughed, but he held it in, shaking his head instead.

Then, in a quieter voice, he asked, “If you love me, why are you leaving?”

You turned your head to look at him. Your eyes were softer now, but firm, steady.

“Bucky, I know you’re not ready for this. And I won’t push you. You need to figure it out yourself.”

His chest tightened.

He had spent years figuring himself out. Years battling the demons that kept him tethered to his past. But had he actually moved forward?

“I used this marriage contract to get money,” you admitted. “To have a higher status than my father. Feeling superior to him gave me satisfaction.”

Bucky swallowed hard. He understood that. He understood it too well.

He had never wanted to be in a relationship—not out of fear, but as an act of rebellion. His parents' marriage had been a disaster, a revolving door of broken vows and replacements. His father cycled through wives like a man cycling through business investments. His mother had responded by becoming one of the most infamous rich cougars in town, collecting younger lovers as if to prove something to the world.

Love, as far as Bucky had seen, was nothing more than a transaction.

He had despised it.

But now, standing here, he wasn’t so sure.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “So this is goodbye, then?”

“For now,” you said, your voice gentle. “I just want to do what I’ve been holding back. I want to grow up.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at that. “What do you mean? We’re already in our thirties.”

You smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was knowing, understanding.

“I mean growing up from the trauma.” Your voice softened. “Bucky, both of us were stuck as kids because of what happened to us. Our pasts kept us frozen in time. But I don’t want to stay stuck anymore. I want to move forward. I want to leave the trauma behind.”

Bucky didn’t say anything. He couldn't.

“The reason I didn’t come back,” you continued, “is because I still love you. And that terrifies me. I’m running away because I can’t be near you without feeling everything too much.”

Bucky sucked in a slow breath.

This was the first time anyone had ever said those words to him like this—with honesty, with vulnerability. It was the first time he had ever received a love confession that wasn’t transactional, that wasn’t tied to expectations.

And he didn’t know what to do with it.

You stepped back. “I hope that the next time we meet, everything will be different.”

Bucky watched as you walked away, disappearing into the crowd. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe for a long moment. Then, slowly, he let out a shaky exhale.

Something was shifting inside him, something he didn’t have a name for. It wasn’t just loss. It wasn’t just regret.

It was something deeper.

A few moments later, he pulled out his phone and dialed his therapist.

When the call connected, his voice came out rough, almost reluctant.

“I think I’m starting to have… sexual desires toward her.”

There was silence on the other end.

Then, finally, his therapist sighed.

“Well, Bucky,” they said, “it looks like you’re finally catching up to your emotions.”

He decided to leave you alone, but that didn’t mean he stopped caring. No matter what, you had been there for him for two years. Marriage contract or not, you left a lasting impression on his life.

When he returned, his grandfather was waiting for him, clearly hoping you would step off the plane with Bucky.

When he saw Bucky coming down alone, Tom clicked his tongue. “You’re an idiot.”

Bucky sighed. “Give her time. She’ll be back.” Even though he's not sure when you'll be back.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

One Year Later

The café inside the park was quiet, tucked away between tall trees and winding pathways. The morning sun filtered through the leaves, casting dappled light onto the wooden tables.

Bucky sat alone, a tablet in one hand, a coffee cup in the other. He scrolled through reports, half-reading, half-listening to the sounds around him—the soft chatter of other patrons, the occasional bark of a dog, the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

Then, a voice behind him made him nearly drop his tablet.

“I see you’re still a workaholic.”

His heart clenched. He knew that voice.

Slowly, he turned around—and there you were.

You stood before him, looking different yet familiar. Your skin was sun-kissed, your hair slightly lighter, and your presence felt… freer. There was an ease in your posture, a confidence in your stance that hadn’t been there before.

For a moment, Bucky just stared, as if making sure you were real. Then, a small smile tugged at his lips.

“I don’t work as much as I used to,” he admitted.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you pulled out a chair and sat across from him. “Really? Who’s been keeping up with all your work, then?”

“My parents.”

That made you pause. “Your parents?”

He nodded, setting down his tablet. “Yeah. I finally faced it. The whole mess.”

And it had been a mess. For years, he had avoided confronting the real cause of his fears—his childhood. He thought that refusing to engage in relationships was an act of defiance, proof that he had broken free from his parents' toxic cycle. But in reality, he had been trapped just like them. Stuck in the same story, just playing a different role.

It wasn’t fair.

They had lived their lives—moving on, getting remarried, collecting younger lovers, burning through money—while he had been the one frozen in time, afraid to take a single step forward.

So he had done something drastic.

He had cut them off.

No more allowances, no more endless funds. Their luxurious lifestyles had been fueled by company profits, and Bucky had put an end to it.

“This company is not a charity,” he had told them. “You’ve used its assets to fund your lifestyles for too long. If I let this continue, we’ll go down in history as the first corporation to bankrupt itself paying alimony.”

His father had been furious. His mother had scoffed. But in the end, they had no choice. They had to start working.

They had been terrible parents. But, ironically, they turned out to be decent employees.

"Both of them have stopped acting childish," he said. His parents had also stopped playing the roles of sugar daddy and cougar. It turned out money was the solution.

Now, here he was, sitting across from the one person he had waited a year to see again.

"I fixed my relationship with my parents, especially my dad," you replied.

"That's good to hear," he responded.

After spending some time with your dad, you realized that without the rivalry, he's an easygoing person. You started contacting him daily.

“Why did you come back?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “Does this mean you don’t love me anymore?”

Your gaze softened. “No. I never stopped loving you.” You smiled, almost shyly. “I just had a feeling this time would be different.”

Bucky exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. “I see. So you’ve completed your self-discovery?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

The conversation between you flowed effortlessly, lighter than it had ever been. You talked about your travels, the people you had met, and the experiences that had changed you. Bucky listened, occasionally throwing in a sarcastic remark or a teasing comment, making you laugh. It felt easy—natural.

Then, as if it were nothing, you casually said, “I broke my leg climbing down a mountain.”

“What?!” His eyes widened, panic flashing through them.

You laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m fine. Some nuns from a nearby chapel helped me. They took care of me for a month.”

Bucky frowned, his mind racing. So that’s why you didn’t post an update for a month.

You nodded. “Yeah. They prayed for me.” Then, after a pause, you admitted, “I’ve never prayed before. But I started to. Admitting my anger, my sins… it made the weight feel lighter. I guess I’m sharing my burdens with God now.” You studied his reaction carefully. “Do you think I’ve turned into a religious freak?”

Bucky shook his head. “No. As long as you found peace.”

Silence settled between you, but it was a comfortable one.

Eventually, he cleared his throat. “Do you want something to drink?”

You grinned. “Yes.”

“Caramel Macchiato, hot, less sugar… right?”

You blinked, then gave him a thumbs-up. He smirked before getting up and heading toward the cashier.

When he returned, he placed the coffee in front of you, watching as you took a small sip.

Then you said, “On my way here, I passed by a cinema playing Interstellar.”

Bucky’s eyes flickered with interest. That was his favorite movie—the one he always watched when he had time alone.

“Really?”

“You interested?” You pulled out two tickets and held them up.

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Let’s go.”

As you both walked side by side, he glanced at you.

“You know,” he said, “you could share your burdens with me too.”

You turned to him, your expression unreadable.

Was that… a proposal?

Bucky continued, his tone calm but firm. “We’ve known each other for two years. You left for one. And yet, you came back with the same feelings. And I waited a year for you to come back.”

Your heart pounded.

This time, it wasn’t just a contract. It wasn’t a transaction.

It was something real. Something earned.

And for the first time, you weren’t afraid of it.

This time, there was a difference between them.

Before, they had been trapped—chained to the past, repeating old patterns, clinging to wounds that refused to heal. They had mistaken their pain for identity, their fears for inevitability.

But now, they had changed.

Not because time had passed, but because they had made the choice to move forward.

They had faced their demons, made peace with their scars, and learned to let go. Bucky was no longer a man protesting love out of spite. And you were no longer someone running away to find yourself.

You had both found your own way—separately.

And yet, in the end, that path had led you back to each other.

-The End-

Epilogue:

Bucky suddenly remembered something. “I should call Grandpa to let him know you’re back.”

You chuckled. “Oh, I already met him when I landed. That’s how I knew where to find you.”

Bucky smiled and shook his head. Even after a year, you still cared about Tom.

After watching the movie, he will take you to meet Tom. His grandpa will welcome you with open arms and finally stop calling him an "idiot."

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[truefandemonium]

Part 1/? of my Thanos xFem!Reader thirst fic (unrelated to my previously posted fic cover) Hope y’all enjoy and uhhhh keep an eye out for part two I guess? 😭 (this was written for @i-think-youre-a-work-of-art pls keep all replies and reblogs SFW thank you) also tagging @heavenlyraindrops Ty all for reading! 🫰

**********************************

Princess and the Pills (pt. 1/?)

Thanos xFem!Reader, fluff, angst, toxic!Thanos, but also sweet!Thanos, Nam-gyu abuse sksksks, SFW, some mild spicy talk, cuddling, uhhhh idr what else is in this part, drug use, swearing { pt. 2 }

*✨*✨*✨*

You hear him before you see him, and his butter smooth voice makes you wish you never turned around. “Señoríta,” he purrs, pulling his jumpsuit jacket collar higher around his neck. “I couldn’t help but notice— you’re all alone out here. Y’know, I could protect you.”

“I can manage just fine, thanks,” you bite back, not looking to make any friends here. Least of all… this guy.

The man’s nose wrinkles in disbelief, his brows shooting upward. “Oh yeah? Well— we could still make a pretty good team. Keep each other safe, y’know?” His expression calms, and you find him… almost handsome with the small smile playing on his lips, sunlight dancing in his purple tipped hair from above. He continues with a growing smirk, “Keep each other warm.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes hard as you nudge past him, and you feel him practically cower from your touch as you do so, your shoulder knocking him backward a foot or two. “Whatever.”

Before you can completely remove yourself from his vicinity, you feel his warm hand wrap around your wrist, a surprisingly gentle touch in comparison to his furious eyes as he pulls you to face him.

You suck in a gasp at his proximity, his face only inches from yours as he studies you. His gaze flicks over your expression, down to your lips for a fraction of a second longer than anywhere else, and then back up to your eyes, where he narrows his own and lets go.

“Don’t forget you got a place to come running,” he assures you with a sniff, tipping his chin skyward. “I’m Thanos.”

“Thanos,” you repeat, taking your turn to look him over. “You got the infinity stones?”

Thanos’ eyes light up in amusement, and he nods, holding up his hand to begin counting off each painted finger. “Red, orange, yellow, green, I’m a legend, Thanos.” His smile after that seals the deal, and you decide to humor him.

“So what made you choose me, huh? To team up with?” you ask, crossing your arms. You didn’t understand it. He must want something from you. Why else would he seek you out?

“You kiddin’?” he snorts. “I’d have to be crazy not to snatch up the prettiest girl in this whole place.”

You roll your eyes again. Ah. “Right,” you say. “What about your buddy over there, hm? He seems pretty attached to you.” Your eyes fall over to the man shifting from foot to foot several yards away, pushing his greasy hair from his face to look toward Thanos.

“Wha— Nam-gyu? Nah, he aight,” Thanos says with a shrug, “But you?” He shakes his head before nodding to a silent rhythm and spouting a few lines of rap; “In the sea of faces, you caught my eye. My beauty, my flower blooming among weeds…” His teeth shine in the sunlight as he grins and tugs the front of his jacket. “Look at us in this blue-green. Now give me the green LIGHT.” He dramatically spreads his arms above his head and shoots the sky a wide smile, looking back at you with a raised brow as he positions his finger and thumb into a tiny heart. “I. Like. You.”

You smack a hand over your mouth, a small giggle erupting from your chest. Laughter, but also… something else. Something warm, and fuzzy. You tamp it down and turn away, dropping your hand.

“Cute song,” you say quietly, dismissing him along with whatever feeling just rose in you.

“See you at the finish line, girly,” Thanos bids you farewell, waving one bejeweled hand before disappearing into the crowd.

You force the image of his endearing smile and buttery voice from your mind as you ready yourself behind the starting point and listen to the game rules.

Before the game starts, some maniac begins screaming about how everyone will die if they move during red light. Yeah, you think annoyedly, that’s how you get disqualified, idiot. Had this loser never played red light green light before?

“He on some crazy shit,” a familiar voice sounds over your shoulder. You turn to curl your lip at Thanos and shrug in agreement.

“He’s kinda right,” you say, itching to disagree with the purple haired rapper if only to see his eyes alight with fury again. “Though that ugly doll already told us all of this a minute ago.”

“How much you wanna bet he’s totally bonkers,” Thanos whispers to you, shifting closer to your side. You resist the urge to lean into the warmth he offers and instead square off, shooting him a sideways glare and nudging him away with your elbow.

“Quit distracting me,” you hiss, listening as the doll sings ‘green light’ melodically.

The man far in front of you screams to run and you obey, booking it forward several feet and hoping Thanos biffed it somewhere behind you.

Soon, you’re stuck at your fourth red light, and no one has been eliminated yet. Which is honestly— amazing. You remember playing this in school and there were kids that would throw tantrums after getting ‘out’ on the first turn.

And then something in front of you catches your eye.

“Is that a bee?” Thanos whispers dumbly from beside you. He’s stayed pretty much right at your side since the game started, and you’ve avoided his incessant blabbing successfully up until now.

“What?” you whisper back, staying carefully frozen.

Thanos chuckles. “The chick in front of you. She’s got a bee on her neck.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he says, “Surprised it couldn’t tell you’re the only flower around here.”

“Just leave it,” you scold him, but he calls out anyway.

“Hey, senorita!”

The girl shifts. “Huh?” she squeaks.

“You got a bee on ya,” Thanos giggles playfully as the girl wails and flails and screams and leaps until the bug is long gone. Casting a teasing smile at Thanos, she muses, “Huh. I moved! Guess I’m out—”

A sound rings out and echoes painfully in your ears, a hot spray hitting your face at the same time. You blink the dark liquid from your eyes in confusion, trying to figure out what just happened, and then you see the body.

A sharp inhale of breath prompts you to turn your gaze to the side, but you’re stopped by a scream.

“HOLD STILL!” the crazy man in front wails at you, his voice commanding attention. But it’s too late. People have seen it: the body of the girl in the sand, blood staining the ground around her.

Shrieks of fear echo around the courtyard as people begin running for the exit, frantic.

“They’ll shoot you if you move, just HOLD STILL!” the same man cries, his tone almost pleading now. It takes all of your willpower to stay upright and steady as the shots ring out one after the other. Screams of pain and horror cut short by loud bangs and splatters of blood.

Until all falls silent, and the rules are repeated over the loudspeaker. The man calling out to you speaks again after green light. No one moves.

“You have to move before the timer runs out or they’ll still shoot you!” he says, but you’re no longer listening.

You tip your head up from where you’d been watching the still body of the bee-girl, and look at Thanos instead. He’s trembling, his eyes wide and slightly glazed over as he stares at the corpse at his feet.

“We have to move,” you tell him as the light turns red once more, then green again. Your heart is in your throat. You don’t know why you’re bothering to talk with this psycho— you’re here to win. Well… now you’re here to survive.

But Thanos doesn’t even look at you. With his eyes still glued to the girl’s dead body, he scrambles at the crucifix around his neck, popping open the metal locket top and digging out a small colored pill.

His hands shake so violently that the crucifix tips, and several of his stash tumble out and into the bloody dirt below. Thanos curses, his voice breaking as he drops to his knees and begins frantically picking them out of the sand, stuffing one into his mouth in pure panic.

“Thanos,” you hiss, heart starting to stutter like it’s threatening to stop completely. “Move.”

He slams his eyes shut for a second as he bites down on the pill, his hands still shaking hard as he drops a few dirty pills back into his locket and snaps it closed.

“I can’t,” he whispers back, opening his eyes again, but unable to meet your gaze. You feel sick.

The kook in front of the group that’s leaving you behind yells for you to run, and you take off, ignoring the nagging voice telling you to drag Thanos along with you.

Time doesn’t feel right as the minutes tick down on the giant clock, but only a few rounds of the game have passed.

You feel like it’s been days under the hot sun, watching people die around you as you strive for an unreachable finish line. You force yourself not to wonder if Thanos made it— his body is probably lying in a pool of blood and mysterious colored pills thousands of yards behind you by now.

You clear your mind of him— of everything— as you run without fear. Pure adrenaline keeps your legs from buckling beneath you as your feet pound the earth, sweat trickling in rivulets down the sides of your face. Some from the heat and exertion— more from complete and utter terror.

You’re close to the finish line, now. Red light seems to drag on this time, and a man several feet in front of you is blasted directly in the head, showering you in gore.

You suck down lungfuls of air to keep your stomach from flipping as you listen for ‘green light’ and make your mad dash for the finish line.

As you dart out, someone trips and collapses hard in the sand just in front of you, body checking you off trajectory and sending you spinning. You yelp, shifting midair and falling back, having flipped a complete 180 degrees to face the back of the courtyard.

“Red Light.”

Shit.

Time slows as you make your descent, the sound of the doll’s whirring head turning to spot your movement the only thing you can hear.

But instead of the hard ground beneath you, followed by a gunshot, you feel a jolt as you’re caught by the front of your shirt and held in a vice grip. You don’t want to open your eyes, too afraid to see who saved your life. Maybe you’re already dead.

But you open them anyway, and you realize you left your heart in the sand with Thanos at the start of the game.

The rapper stares ahead, his brow knitted in concentration, his arm flexed and holding onto your jumpsuit firmly to keep you from landing on your back. You blink up at him in bewilderment. In confusion.

Why would he risk himself to save you after what you did?

But when he finally looks down at you, it makes sense. His brows bounce, shooting you that award winning smile with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. “Tag,” he giggles, his eyes wild and dangerous.

Yet somehow, you’ve never felt so safe.

As the green light sounds, he yanks you back to your feet hard, and you collide with his chest, hands coming up to brace you.

His strong hands grip either side of your upper arms, his lip stuck in a thoughtful pout as he stares into your eyes menacingly. He exhales slowly, eating up precious seconds of running time to curl his lip and let out a little growl. You can’t decipher his coded sounds, but relief floods you as the scouring expression disappears and he grabs one of your hands in his own, the unnaturally cheery demeanor back in full force.

“Let’s GO!” Thanos whoops, breaking into a run, clutching your hand like a lifeline as he drags you along with him toward the finish line.

You feel lighter than air as you’re pulled behind this crazed man, the sounds of gunshots broken up by his joy filled laughter. Only seconds before the final red light, you and Thanos explode over the painted white line at the end of the track, and stumble into the crowd. Battered by elbows from every direction, the two of you topple to the sand, limbs tangling as Thanos lands beneath you with a deep groan.

You wince as you land square on his chest, knocking the wind from his lungs and reveling in a soft grunt that leaves his lips.

“I— sorry,” you pant, your arms bracing you above him on either side of his head. Once recovered, Thanos smiles languidly, his eyes still glazy, but now unregistering and carefree.

One hand slides idly up and lands gently on your waist, his other arm sprawled out as he lies beneath you, apparently content. “No problem,” he coos, shaking his head once. “Didn’t even feel it.”

“No,” you choke, unable to form the words but acutely aware of hundreds of eyes on you in this moment. You want to apologize for leaving him. The reality of that choice feels like a death sentence, though you know you couldn’t have saved him anyway. “I'm sorry for… for ditching you.”

It ends with a question mark, and Thanos’ smile fades slightly. “Didn’t notice,” he rumbles numbly.

You’re about to ask— well, you’re not sure what, but you’re compelled to say a something, when a pair of feet appear above Thanos’ head, and you look up.

Nam-gyu looks down at the two of you, mouth hanging open as he drags his gaze over your compromising position. “Huh,” he muses. “That’s kinda hot.”

“Nam-su!” Thanos belts out, his face breaking back into a buzzed grin. He starts to get up, inadvertently knocking you into the dirt and you tamp down the small amount of hurt at his sudden indifference to you.

The men embrace, Nam-gyu eyeing the cross necklace around his friend’s neck with a hungry gaze.

“It’s Nam-gyu,” he corrects passively, wincing as Thanos shoves him off and proceeds to leap in the air a few times.

“AY, we did it, my friends! First game: SUC-CESS!” the purple haired man whoops, his brown eyes nearly disappearing in the black of his dilated pupils. He cuts his words into multiple pieces, like he’s trying to put emphasis on as much as possible for the shock value.

It makes your stomach flutter against your will: the way his voice pitches high and then falls again, his teeth flashing in the sunlight and contrasting sickeningly with the spatter of crimson on his cheek.

Maybe that’s what’s making your belly hurt: the blood. So much blood. You make the mistake of looking down and find your shoes painted with the stuff. Bright red stains that will eventually fade to a dull brown that you wouldn’t even be able to identify if you hadn’t known the people it had come from.

“Hey, you okay?” That slimy voice sounds in your ear and you look up with a grimace, locking eyes with Nam-gyu and feeling yourself squirm under his scrutiny.

“She’s fine,” Thanos interrupts before you can spew all over Nam-gyu’s shoes, knocking into your side and throwing one arm over your shoulders. He tugs you flush against his side, under his arm and you’re surprised to find the musk permeating his jumpsuit is… nice. Sweat, sure, but also a lingering cologne and the strong smell of fresh ink, which strikes you instantly as odd but incredibly pleasant.

Of course a faint smoky scent remains on his skin, but you don’t pull away quite so quickly from his touch this time.

He turns to grin down at you, eyes half lidded. “Right, jagiya?”

In an attempt to quell the hammering of your heart, you nudge Thanos off of your shoulder and shoot a glare at Nam-gyu, successfully diverting his wolfish gaze back to the ground.

“Yeah, I don’t need either of you jerks, so just leave me alone,” you snap, brushing sand off your knees and trying to take calm breaths, though it’s hard with so many dead bodies lying only feet from you.

Thanos rumbles a laugh. “Yeah, you won’t be saying that for long, sweetheart. Come find my bunk if you get lonely.” You narrow your eyes over your shoulder, hating that his wink and heart gesture combo make you almost double over in adoration before you look away.

You find yourself drawn to the corners of the sandy arena, as far away from anyone else as you can possibly get, but that’s not much because most everyone made it through the game, so you’re surrounded by nearly 400 people at least.

Still, you sit in the corner until the guards lead you back to the large room, and you follow numbly, head aching and stomach still clenched in disgust and horror at what you witnessed. You’re surprised Thanos was so… okay with what happened right in front of him, until you remember the pills. How happy they made him almost instantly.

You’re almost jealous. But more than that, you’re sad for him.

You can’t seem to avoid him, because as soon as you’re all back in the gathering room full of bunk beds, he’s there, sauntering up the stairs in your direction.

“Hey, senorita,” he coos, his eyes watery and big like a puppy’s. “Room for one more?” You’re startled out of a bit of a daydream of returning back home and leaving all this behind, and Thanos is sitting on the other side of your bunk bed with a smirk. Nam-gyu frowns, and you can’t help but smile to yourself at the way they resemble a pair of idiot circus clowns.

“Two more,” he says, shooting daggers in Thanos’ direction.

Thanos doesn’t hear him, nodding his head to a song you can’t hear as you ignore the both of them and stare down at your bagged bread and bottled soda.

Nam-gyu sits solemnly on the steps by your feet, his eyes dragging over you like a snake flicking his tongue to taste the air, and you pull your legs onto the bed in fear.

After a few minutes of silence, you hear a soft hum. You jump hard at Thanos’ hand nudging your own, his eyes full of genuine concern as he lifts your hand holding the packaged bread toward your lips. “Hey, eat up, c’mon,” he urges in a low tone, serious. “A passed out Princess ain’t no good to us,” he teases, his teeth flashing again. His eyes flick down to your unzipped hoodie as he adds, “Sure would be pretty, though.”

You immediately set your food in your lap and zip your tracksuit up, turning your face away. Screw him. And his stupid, weird friend. These guys were junkies, and nothing more. Thanos has NOTHING to offer you, least of all protection in this madhouse. Why believe a word he says?

Because he needs someone to, your mind whispers. You shut your eyes as if that will help make everything go away, silence those thoughts that ring so true.

And you only open them to find Thanos has set half of his own bread in your hand, emptying his soda as he makes his way toward the crowd to vote.

…

It’s that psycho again. Screaming. Grabbing someone and insisting that you all vote to leave.

You want to understand his desperation, but… you have nothing back home. If you return without that money, you’ll be a dead woman anyway.

Your eye lingers on the blue button as the guards break up the fight and order everyone to vote without further conversation between players.

You’re going in order from last to first: 456 taking his turn to hit the red button and stand alone on the far side of the room. You glance at your own number for the first time and realize you’re just ahead of Thanos: 231. Hiding from him, you wait for your number to be called.

You vote when it comes time, pressing the blue ‘O’ with shaky hands and turning around to face the gathered crowd. Two sides: red and blue. Life and death, only not so black and white. To people like you, desperate slobs in more debt than you could ever pay off in a lifetime, voting to leave would be a death sentence.

456 stares you down as you walk with a certain shame toward the blue side, his brown eyes boring into your flesh like flames. He wants you dead, most likely. You don’t look up until you feel a strong hand wrap dexterous fingers around your bicep and your head whips up.

Thanos is there, on his way to the voting buttons, a wicked smile spread across his sharp features. His nails dig into your arm, not enough to hurt you, but a reminder of his closeness. A reminder of his presence. The safety he promises.

And he mutters, “Good girl.”

Your heart is in your throat. You can’t breathe as he releases you and struts the rest of the way to the podium to vote, and you realize that this is the first time you haven’t pulled away from his touch.

[boyfridged]

leslie does not appear in the post-crisis crime alley intro. in her stead, there's another older woman whose work is thought to be altruistic, one with potential to transform the lives of the desperate and condemned (from such a young age, too) -- ma gunn. of course, soon we learn that her charity is but a ruse, and she uses her reputation and position to exploit those most vulnerable. here it is -- the cynical 'subversion' that will become the staple of the post-crisis batman for years to come.

but arguably, despite the appearances, it is not ma gunn who truly takes leslie's place in the narrative. that place being, of course, both the symbol of the hope of the crime alley and a counterpoint to batman's philosophy. it is, instead, the main character of second chances -- jason. jason, whom bruce meets in the same alley his parents died, but who makes bruce laugh upon their first encounter. jason, who has a strong sense of justice, despite it not quite aligning with bruce's -- jason who does not care about what bruce thinks of him being a thief, jason who insists it does not make him a crook; jason who has no care for the label of 'criminality' in itself (just as leslie, who insists that talking of 'criminals' in the alley is non-productive and that in targeting them, bruce would just prey on those unfortunate). jason who is to become gotham's light as robin, but who also is tied to its darkest place.

there is, of course, a problem here -- jason is a child. and so, what was seen as a genuine challenge to batman before -- the lack of care for the 'criminal' label, is now seen as a corruption of the youth that can be "treated" like all disease that crime is (and can be also used as an excuse for the child endangerment - by collins and so, by bruce whom he writes too). and surely, soon enough, without much commentary from the narrative itself, after a timeskip, we are introduced to jason whose background is of very little relevance. as a child, and as robin, he is (for a time) malleable. he believes in batman just as dick grayson did. until starlin takes the run over, and jason is to become a 'challenge' again -- but this time there is no authentic consideration for the politics and societal reality behind it. the conflict that leads to aditf is first and foremost one around bruce's role as a parent, and less so about his strategy. and even in the garzonas' case, there's this confusion -- jason's complaints are not about the system, but about their efficiency. it's all back to batman's theoretical framework. and when jason comes back from the dead, year after -- that is what happens with the red hood modus operandi too. all of this a direct reference to competence of batman, jason's background becoming a stereotype it was supposed to go against.

thankfully, before all that happens, and quite hurriedly post-crisis, someone (barr) realises leslie needs a comeback -- and it is the best she was ever written, her voice clear and strong. my beginning... and my probable end is, to me, a batman thesis. here we have bruce wayne, loving -- and here we have all of bruce's flaws exposed. leslie's first ever complaint post-crisis is about jason's role as robin, and so she becomes a cassandra, but it's so important to pay attention to their relationships. "you're doing it for yourself" is what leslie says, and she is right in believing it is not jason who needs robin. and jason, there, on a hospital bed, between them -- this is what his role in the narrative becomes. a consequence of a grand idea of batman that leslie was always against; but also someone who's life stretches in between these two beliefs, someone who came all the way from being so like leslie, only for him to become so entangled in vigilantism that there's hardly any reference to any of it left. and leslie was there, to see.

how both of their stances get stereotyped; how their initial roles get delegated into villainy or (in case of leslie) pettiness, is in a way a litmus paper for the condition of batman's comics. and it's just absurd how we never get to see them together after jason's resurrection; how the two most important characters of the crime alley cannot be afforded to share narrative space. that is, of course, because it would mean a confrontation of what jason was, and what he became.

[leblogreblog]

The official love interest of the main character of the series is named Amy (meaning "beloved" in french/latin) Rose (not only the flower but also "pink" in french, for a character with pink fur), and you're gonna draw the line on JIM STONE for a man working with dude obsessed with GEM STONES????