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neellscapsule · 2 days ago

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My Heart — Part Two

summary | your family realizes how much they have missed. the problem is that you are a grown up by now, and terrible hurt by their neglect.

pairing | platonic yandere batfam x batsis!neglected!reader. future conner kent x reader.

warnings / tags | angst, hurt/little comfort, y/n is mentioned as a female, trauma, family issues, mostly trust and daddy issues. they all love each other (PLATONICALLY) they just don't know how to feel it and express it correctly. it gets darker. you are a bit of a yandere later as well.

word count | 4.4k

authors note | hi there!! english is not my first languaje so there might be some mistakes, or not, it can depend :) i plan on making this a series. please vote <3 dick is 28. jason is 23. reader will be 22 in a few months. cass is 21. tim is 20. duke is 18. damian is 13.

taglist | @cebrospudipudi @jjoppees @corvoqueen @nirvanaxx1942

previous. next.

The paint stains your fingers in shades of umber and charcoal, seeping into the skin beneath your nails, filling the creases along your knuckles. You’ve stopped noticing how it feels—the slight stickiness of oils, the bite of turpentine on raw fingertips. It’s part of the process. Part of the mess you’ve accepted as your life.

The studio smells like linseed oil, rain-dampened brick, and faint candle smoke from the altar of used coffee cups near the window.

You haven’t eaten. You never do when you’re in this state.

The canvas towers in front of you — a human torso, cut open and reassembled with impossible precision, gothic window tracery bleeding from the muscle, spine bent beneath the weight of cathedral motifs. A ribcage crowned with delicate arches. Veins following the curve of stained glass.

It’s grotesque. It’s sacred.

It’s yours.

You push the brush across the canvas, smoothing the crimson edge of one carved shoulder, teeth digging into your lower lip. It’s not done. It never feels done. You don’t know what compels you to keep building cathedrals inside people. You just can’t seem to stop.

You don’t notice the knocking at first.

The sound seeps through the fog of your focus, faint and rhythmic, knuckles tapping wood. You groan under your breath, setting the brush down beside the palette, fingers sticky with paint.

It’s probably Pam again. She’s sweet, too sweet sometimes — hovering, asking if you’ve eaten, if you’ve slept, if you’ve seen the sun in the past forty-eight hours. It’s not her fault, but you’ve been very clear today.

“Pam, for the love of God,” you call, not turning away from your work. “I told you, I’m not hungry. You don’t need to hover like a worried mother—”

You turn then, irritation curling your mouth as you wipe your hand absently on the hem of your oversized paint shirt, ready to face the soft-eyed persistence of your assistant.

But it’s not Pam.

It’s Jason.

He stands near the door, arms crossed, helmet clipped to his hip. His eyes are fixed on you, unreadable, sharp like they always are when he’s too quiet, watching you like you’re still the kid he used to mess with, still the little sister too easy to fluster.

Behind him, Damian is already wandering through your studio, his hands clasped behind his back in that overly formal way he’s always had, posture unnaturally straight for a thirteen-year-old, his eyes tracing every painting, every sculpture, every unfinished sketch with the kind of reverence that makes your skin itch.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” The question comes out sharper than you intend.

Jason shrugs. “Nice to see you too, princess.”

You roll your eyes, but your pulse stumbles. Childhood memory pulls behind your ribs, unwelcome.

“You didn’t answer the door,” Damian remarks, calmly, as though this is the most natural place for him to be. His tone doesn’t match his age. He’s a teen but speaks like a soldier twice his years. “We assumed you would not appreciate us arriving with excessive fanfare.”

You stare at him, stunned. “You broke into my building?”

Jason lifts a brow. “Didn’t know we needed an engraved invitation to check on our sister.”

You grip the rag on your desk a little too tightly. “You can’t just show up here. This is my space.”

Your older brother strolls further in, his steps deliberately slow. “Yeah? You didn’t really leave us much choice, you know. You’re hard to get a hold of.”

“That’s the point.”

“You invited us.”

“I meant the gallery, Jason,” you snap. “Not my apartment.”

Jason clicks his tongue, mockingly. “Bit touchy, aren’t we?”

“Studio,” Damian corrects quietly, still inspecting the room. “This is not merely an apartment. It’s an artist’s space.”

Your gaze flicks to him. His tone is formal, precise, the way your father speaks in boardrooms, the way assassins speak before they strike.

You know that cadence. You used to wear it too. Before you remembered how tired you were of being sharp-edged.

His focus drifts from canvas to canvas, lingering on the darker ones, his expression carefully neutral. He walks as though he’s in a museum — slow, controlled, absorbing everything. For a second, you think he would enjoy the gallery much more, and you quickly get rid of the thought.

Damian finally turns to face you, his green eyes unsettlingly direct. “We came to see you.”

You cross your arms, suddenly conscious of the paint-streaked shirt, the disheveled hair, the exhaustion under your skin. Your space feels invaded. Claustrophobic. Like they cracked the sanctuary you built around yourself and stepped right in without asking.

“How did you even know where I live?”

Jason’s grin is infuriating. “Come on. Did you really think you could keep that from us?”

“I moved across the country.”

“Yeah. You’re not as stealthy as you think.”

“I used aliases.”

“Cute.”

Damian’s voice cuts through, quiet but deliberate. “Tim found you.”

You blink.

Jason’s smile falters slightly. “Yeah, that helped.”

You glance between them, irritation flaring in your ribs. “Tim hacked into my stuff?”

“Only the necessary. We didn't see any of your dirty stuff,” Jason makes a grimace, completely disgusted. "God, I hope you don't have that stuff 'cause that just made me sick."

“Choke in your vomit while you are at it,” you reply back, eyes narrowed.

Jason pushes off the doorframe, wandering deeper now, hands in his pockets, gaze sliding over your unfinished works.

“You’ve been busy,” he notes casually, though there’s a flicker in his expression you don’t miss. Something thoughtful. Guarded.

“I didn’t ask for company,” you say evenly.

“No, but you sure as hell needed it,” Jason mutters under his breath. “Did you eat? And don't lie. Cause I can and I will talk to Pammy over there. Surely blondie could answer that as well as you.”

You roll your eyes. Damian interrupts, stepping toward a sculpture perched on a pedestal near the back of the studio. His voice is smooth, formal. “This one is exquisite.”

You stiffen immediately.

Jason follows Damian’s line of sight, curiosity dimming into something else when he focuses on the piece. His posture locks, his smirk gone.

The sculpture isn’t large, but you’ve kept it protected, guarded in the corner like it was something precious.

Because it is.

Two figures, with faces that merely touch by an ear to a cheek, no bodies, just faces and necks and only a bit of chest. Her arm protects him, crossing to his shoulder. There is no paint. Just faces. Blank faces that are too sad.

You and Jason.

Younger. Before death. Before he was gone.

Jason steps closer, his lips parting like he might say something, but nothing comes out. He’s staring at the chipped edge where your fingertips almost touch his neck.

The moment feels too exposed, too raw, too much.

You rush forward, grabbing the draped cloth from a nearby chair and hastily covering the sculpture, heat creeping to your cheeks.

Jason’s eyes stay on you. Quiet now. The teasing’s gone. What’s left is… complicated. Damian, meanwhile, has stepped closer, watching the whole exchange with unnerving focus. His eyes are greener up close. Sharper. Too observant for a thirteen-year-old.

“Why is that hidden?” he asks simply, as if the question isn’t a blade twisting in your ribs.

“Because it’s not for display,” you answer curtly, adjusting the cloth, the warmth in your cheeks refusing to fade.

Damian steps beside you, quiet but watching. Always watching.

“You should come home,” he says, direct as ever, eyes locked on yours. “To the Manor.”

The words slam into your chest like a steel door.

You bark out a hollow laugh, shaking your head as you retreat back toward your canvas, grabbing your brush with shaky fingers.

“I’m not going back there.”

“You should,” Damian insists, his voice low but firm, carrying the same command your father always wielded — only softer, more desperate under the surface. “You belong with us.”

“No,” you reply, knuckles whitening around the brush. “I belong here.”

Jason leans against the wall, kicking a stray paintbrush with the toe of his boot. “Look, you don't have to move back into the Manor. No one’s trying to suffocate you. But you don’t have to be alone all the time.”

“I’m not alone.”

“Yeah?” His mouth twitches, not quite a smile. “You’re talking to a brick wall, painting holes in people, and eating nothing but coffee and stubbornness. Sure doesn’t look like you’ve got a full house in here.”

You scowl. “That’s rich coming from you.”

He shrugs. “Fair.”

The studio falls into a thick, tense silence, the quiet hum of city traffic beyond the window the only sound.

Damian breaks it, voice colder, but not unkind.

“We miss you.”

You stare at him, at the strange, complicated little brother you barely know, the only one who shares your blood — half, yes, but more than enough for him to treat you like you’re his.

Your heart wavers. Because you were always like that with your siblings. Always too soft, too easy to catch. It was not your fault; how could they look at you like that and expect you not to fall?

But you still retreat behind your work, turning your attention back to the cathedral-ribcage and the arches blooming from muscle and bone.

Jason exhales slowly, fingers tapping the edge of a nearby shelf.

“Alfred asks about you, you know.”

Your spine straightens. You don’t look at him.

“Yeah,” he continues, softer now. “Old man’s been stuck with nothing but bats and brats. Pretty lonely in that big house.”

The words knife into your chest.

Alfred.

You swallow hard, brush faltering mid-stroke.

“He misses you,” Jason adds, voice rough with something that sounds too much like guilt. “The others— they’re stubborn. But him? He just wants you home.”

Your eyes sting, but you don’t let the tears rise. You breathe through your teeth, steadying yourself as the memories press against your ribs — Alfred’s gentle hands bandaging your bruised knuckles, his voice soft in the dark after failed missions, the way he saw you when no one else did.

“He’s… fine?” Your voice is fragile.

Jason nods. “Tired. Old. Still making those goddamn scones no one likes but you.”

You huff a quiet, broken laugh despite yourself.

Damian steps closer, the stiffness in his shoulders easing as his eyes soften — still sharp, still possessive, but open now. Waiting.

“We’ll leave,” he says carefully. “But you should consider it.”

“I’m not going back,” you repeat, but it cracks more than you intend.

Jason sighs, shrugging on his jacket again.

“Yeah,” he mutters, eyes lingering on you, old regret buried under forced nonchalance. “Didn’t think you would.”

But they don’t push.

They leave the studio quietly, the door clicking shut behind them, the echo of their presence curling in the corners like smoke you can’t scrub away.

You stare at the unfinished painting, the gothic ribs and spires reaching out like a cathedral begging for worship.

And for the first time in hours, your hands shake too much to keep painting.

2021

You are Gotham’s darling.

You glide through the gala like a practiced storm, a smile stretched soft and convincing across your painted lips, pearls heavy against your collarbones, a custom dress clinging to your figure in all the right ways.

You know what they see.

They see elegance. Charm. The precious Wayne daughter — the pianist, the prodigy, the golden girl.

But they don’t see the cracks. No one ever does.

You know exactly how to play this game.

You lift a flute of champagne from a silver tray — you won’t drink it, of course. You just need to hold it. It’s part of the image.

Your eyes flick across the room, cataloguing politicians, socialites, investors, foreign dignitaries, all humming in the same stale rhythm.

It’s always the same.

And it’s so easy.

A charming laugh here. A delicate touch on the arm there. The perfect tilt of your head, the perfect compliment, the perfect distance. You flash a smile, soft and warm, as another politician’s wife tells you how radiant you look tonight. You accept the compliment like it’s your birthright. You have learned to wear praise like perfume — light, intoxicating, gone in a moment.

They eat it up.

You are exceptional at being what they want you to be.

Across the room, you can see them.

Your family.

Your father. Bruce Wayne, always the shadow, always the gravity around which you all spin. Talking to someone from the Mayor’s office, brow furrowed, jaw tight, not looking at you.

Dick — always moving, always orbiting. Laughing with some acquaintances, tipping his glass toward them, that golden boy glow turned up to full wattage. He hasn’t looked your way in over twenty minutes.

Jason — unfamiliar to these parties, still stiff in his tailored suit, leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed, eyes darting toward the door like he’s already plotting his escape. You catch him staring at you briefly, but he looks away too quickly, feigning disinterest.

Tim — glued to his phone, tucked in a corner, nodding absently at the older men who mistake his silence for reverence. He won’t make it through the night without ducking out to work on whatever case is currently eating him alive.

None of them are looking at you.

And yet, you are here.

You are always here.

The daughter.

The musician.

The delicate thing to be paraded in pearls.

You love them. You hate them. You love them. You hate them.

It’s always both.

They forget you. They adore you. They neglect you. They would burn the world for you.

But not tonight.

Tonight, they’ve already forgotten.

You remember the first time you played for the public — twelve years old, barely tall enough for your feet to brush the pedals. You’d glanced toward the side of the stage, hoping, aching to see your father there.

He wasn’t.

But Alfred was. He always was.

You play like you’re starving.

You play like it’s the only way you know how to be loved.

Your fingers fly across the keys, weaving through the rises and falls of the piece you’ve practiced to perfection. Every note is a plea. Every shift in tempo is a crack in the armor.

See me.

Please, see me.

The crowd is enraptured.

Gotham adores you. You know how to keep them in your palm.

When you finish, the applause swells, thunderous, pressing against your ribs.

You find Alfred near the kitchens of the Manor. His face softens the moment he sees you.

“My dear.”

You step into his arms without thinking, without needing to guard yourself. He holds you tightly, his hand gently cradling the back of your head like he did when you were a child.

You were always a child in his arms.

“You played beautifully,” he murmurs.

“Did you listen?”

“Of course I did.”

“You stayed the whole time?”

“Always.”

You swallow thickly, pressing your face into his shoulder.

Alfred has always stayed.

“You should be the one they parade around,” you whisper.

He chuckles softly. “I’m far too old for that now.”

“You’re the best of all of us.”

“You are part of that ‘us,’ you know.”

You pull back, but his hand lingers on your cheek, thumb brushing away the hint of tears.

“I see you,” he says, voice warm and steady. “Even when the others don’t. I see you, my girl.”

You nod, the lump in your throat too heavy to speak.

Alfred gives you a knowing look. “Your father is not always as clever as he pretends to be.”

“I’m not looking for clever.”

“Perhaps not. But I suspect you are still looking.”

You don’t answer.

You’ve already learned that some searches never end.

But you smile for him anyway.

Because you can’t bear to let him see how much it hurts.

PRESENT

The world feels better upside down.

You’ve decided that much after the third drop, when your body spirals through the air, silk ribbons biting into your thighs, your wrists, your waist, the floor disappearing somewhere below.

There’s freedom here, wrapped tight in fabric and gravity’s quiet threat. Up here, it doesn’t matter what your last name is. It doesn’t matter whose eyes you inherited, whose legacy you abandoned. It doesn’t matter how many invitations you wrote that no one showed up for.

It’s just you.

Your body.

Your strength.

Your silence.

The silk coils like a lover around your legs, keeping you suspended a solid twenty feet off the ground. You hang there, breathing slow, the city bleeding in through the open studio window — car horns, distant chatter, the faint wail of sirens that sound far too much like home.

You hate how your chest tightens at that sound.

The pressure wraps across your ribs as you climb, muscles burning, silk cool under your palms. The deep blue fabric coils like water as you flip, twisting your legs, pulling your body upside down, your hair trailing toward the floor twenty feet below.

For the first time all day, your head spins in a way that makes sense.

Up here, it’s just you.

Not the invitations you stupidly wrote.

Not the unanswered questions from Damian.

Not the quiet ache Jason left behind.

Not Alfred’s face, worn and tired, haunting the back of your mind.

You’ve spent hours here, in the studio that isn’t your art studio—the other one, the hidden space in the upper floor you converted into your training room.

“Okay,” comes a voice from below, too familiar, too soft with that unbearable warmth. “Now that’s impressive.”

Your eyes snap open.

Dick Grayson stands beneath you, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, blue eyes glinting with quiet awe — and a pride you’ve never seen aimed at you before. Not like that.

“Birdie,” he says, grinning up at you, that old nickname curling off his tongue like honey over a blade.

Your stomach flips, the nickname scraping through your ribs with bitter nostalgia.

You were never a Robin. Never wore the cape, the tights, the too-big legacy that was supposed to mold you into their perfect image.

But you were a bird too.

His bird.

Once.

“You’re supposed to announce yourself,” you say flatly, ignoring the way your pulse skips at the sound of his voice.

“I did,” he teases. “You just didn’t hear me over all your death-defying tricks.”

You exhale through your nose, keeping your face blank as you shift in the silks, body still upside down, legs tangled securely.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice is even, practiced, but your heart stumbles anyway.

Dick rocks back on his heels, gaze still glued to you, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Is that any way to greet your favorite brother?”

You arch a brow. “Favorite? Bold assumption.”

“Ouch.” He presses a hand to his chest, mock wounded. “Right through the heart.”

You twist in the silks again, limbs coiling expertly, giving him your back for a moment as you let the tension in your core guide your position. You love the feeling — controlled, steady, detached from the floor, from all of it.

When you finally pivot back toward him, his eyes haven’t left you.

There’s a gleam there — pride, yes, but something heavier buried beneath. Guilt. Sadness. That quiet, unbearable Grayson softness that makes you want to run in the opposite direction.

Or scream at him.

Or both.

“You shouldn’t sneak into people’s studios,” you tell him flatly. “Some artists are territorial.”

Dick chuckles. “Yeah, well, I figured it was safer than knocking and getting the door slammed in my face.”

“Tempting.”

“You gonna come down?” he asks, tilting his head. “Or are we having this whole conversation with you playing Cirque du Soleil?”

You smirk faintly, fingers loosening your grip on the silks.

“Suit yourself.”

Before he can argue, you drop — fast, controlled, the silks unraveling in a fluid blur, your body spinning toward the floor at breakneck speed.

You hear him curse under his breath.

The moment before your feet hit the mat, you hook your legs, slowing the descent, landing clean and balanced with barely a whisper of sound.

Dick’s eyes are wide, hand halfway extended like he thought you might splatter across the floor.

“Jesus,” he mutters, hand scrubbing down his face. “You’re trying to kill me.”

You shrug, peeling the silk from your wrists. “Just keeping you on your toes. You’ve seen me do worse, anyway.”

His eyes roam your frame — not with scrutiny, but with that quiet, admiring calculation you remember from years ago, back when you were smaller, younger, chasing after them in the halls of the Manor with too-big eyes and a heart desperate to be seen.

“I didn’t know you got this good,” he observes, tone dipping softer now. “The aerial stuff.”

“I’ve had time.”

His gaze sharpens, and you know he hears the bite beneath your words.

Of course he does. Dick’s always been good at hearing what people don’t say.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, softer now, the teasing edged away, replaced by something closer to… awe? Pride? Guilt? You can’t tell. It’s always layered with him. His eyes stray to the scattered equipment, the crash mats, the window cracked just enough to let in the faint summer breeze.

“It suits you,” he admits, tapping his thumb against his palm. “The silks. The… flying.”

You fold your arms, stepping back toward the silk rig, giving him space — and putting distance between yourself and whatever sentiment he’s about to throw at you.

“Let me guess,” you exhale, sticky hair clinging to your neck. “You’re here to talk about the Manor. About coming home. Just like Jason. Just like Damian.”

Dick’s jaw flexes.

You straighten, rolling your shoulders, tugging the silks aside as you wipe your palms on your leggings.

“If that’s the case,” you add, sharp and controlled, “save your breath.”

“Birdie—”

“I’m not going back.”

His face flickers, the usual effortless charm faltering under the weight of your words.

He watches you for a long, measured moment.

You cross your arms, leaning against the nearest support beam, heartbeat still settling from the adrenaline of the silks, though the real tension in the room comes from him.

“Did they put you up to this?” you ask quietly. “Bruce? The others?”

“No,” he says firmly, shaking his head, stepping closer. “They don’t know I’m here.”

Your brow lifts. “So what, you just… showed up?”

His lips curl faintly, crooked and boyish. “You’re hard to track down when you don’t want to be found. But I’ve had practice.”

A bitter smile tugs at your mouth. “Yeah. Surveillance and interrogation. Real family values.”

“Okay, that—” Dick laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I deserved that one.”

You sigh, dropping your head for a moment before meeting his eyes again.

The weight of his gaze settles heavily between you. Pride. Longing. Regret.

It’s all there, barely hidden beneath the years of distance.

“I’m not coming back,” you repeat, quieter now, but no less certain.

Dick’s expression softens, his shoulders lowering as he closes the last few feet between you, stopping just far enough that you still feel you have room to breathe.

“Look,” he starts gently, voice dipping into the same soothing cadence he used when you were little—before everything cracked. “I’m not here to drag you back. I’m not even here to lecture you.”

You snort. “That’s new.”

He gives you a dry look, but his smile returns, faint and a little sad.

“I just wanted to see you,” Dick admits, glancing around the studio. “See how you’re doing. How… this life is treating you.”

Your chest tightens, unexpected warmth blooming under the guard you’ve spent years building.

You want to believe him. Part of you does.

But the other part—the part that remembers every missed recital, every unopened letter, every time you stood on the edges of family dinners while they laughed without you—knows better.

“I’m fine,” you lie easily.

He frowns, eyes drifting over you, reading you the way only he can.

“You don’t look fine.”

You roll your eyes, turning back toward the silks, fingers tracing the cool fabric as a distraction.

“Don’t start playing big brother now, Dick. It’s been years.”

“I never stopped being your brother.”

Your throat tightens, but you mask it with a shrug, grabbing the silk, twisting it idly around your wrist to keep your hands busy.

“This isn’t the Manor,” you whisper. “You don’t get to show up and play big brother.”

His expression fractures — just a little, the mask slipping.

“I’m building something here,” you say, gesturing vaguely to the studio, the silks, the life outside Gotham’s shadows. “It’s mine. No capes. No patrols. No… disappointments.”

His face twists with something complicated—guilt, frustration, maybe even admiration.

“I get it,” Dick says softly. “I do.”

You arch a brow. “Do you?”

He hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. I ran from it too, remember? Blüdhaven. The circus. It’s not so different.”

“It is,” you counter, stepping forward, close enough now that your voices stay low, private. “You had the option to visit. To come back whenever you wanted. Me? I didn’t know if I even belonged there in the first place.”

Dick’s jaw clenches, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“You always belonged,” he says, fierce and broken, eyes burning into yours. “We were just too damn distracted to show you.”

The admission punches the air from your lungs.

You look away, throat tight.

“Jason mentioned Alfred,” you murmur after a beat, the memory of the old butler’s face ghosting over your thoughts. “How… is he?”

“Still the only one holding the Manor together,” Dick answers, his voice soft with fondness. “Tired. He misses you... Everyone does. I do.”

You shake your head, pulling the silks through your fingers, grounding yourself in the familiar texture.

“It’s not that easy.”

“I know.”

“It’s not like I can just walk back in and pretend nothing happened.”

“Trust me, birdie, I’m not pretending.” He pauses. “We screwed up. I screwed up.”

You glance at him, wary.

His eyes meet yours, steady, open.

“I should’ve been there. More. Better. I thought— I thought you’d always be there. That there’d always be time.”

You swallow around the ache in your throat.

“Don’t pull the ‘we were kids’ card.”

“I wasn’t going to,” he says quietly. “I was going to say I wasn’t paying attention. That I thought being your brother meant just… showing up for the big stuff. The galas. The battles. I didn’t realize it was the little things that mattered.”

You look away.

“I used to send you letters,” you murmur, voice tight. “Invitations. Notes.”

“I know.”

“I used to save you seats.”

“I know.”

His voice is thick now.

“I didn’t think you wanted me there,” you whisper, fingers tightening on the silks. “I thought you had better things. More important people.”

He steps closer, not touching, but near enough to feel the warmth of him.

“You were always important,” he says. “I just… didn’t act like it.”

You blink rapidly, trying to hold back the stupid, stinging heat behind your eyes.

“I’m still not coming back.”

He smiles softly. “Okay.”

You glance at him, surprised. “Okay?”

“I’m not here to drag you home,” he says. “I’m here to see you. To remind you that you still have a home. That you still have a brother who’s proud of you.”

Your throat tightens.

“Don’t say that,” you whisper.

“It’s true.” His smile grows. “You were always a bird, you know. Not like me, not like the Robins. You were something wilder. Something I always wanted to fly like. My little birdie.”

He gets close, and for the first time you let him, chest aching for the love he once gave you. Dick kisses your temple, looking down at you for a moment.

“There's going to be a gala in four days. Because of the anniversary of the enterprises. Just . . . think about it. You have my number. And take care of yourself, please.”

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windblumewishes · 17 hours ago

Text

Let’s Talk About TWST Leaks…

The next update for TWST, Book 7.5 for TWST JP, will contain animated overblot scenes made by Cloverworks. TWST JP has released an important statement about the cutscenes…

They ask that NO ONE LEAK THE CONTENT before AUGUST 1 JST! As this content is very spoiler heavy. If you decide to post, while I and TWST highly encourage you do not post, just be warned that you will get bombarded with messages and harassment from the JP side. I understand that people want to see this content but I ask that people legit follow what TWST JP has asked of us and NOT share the clips!

If you see this content online BEFORE August 1st JST, please be civil and ask them to take the content down!

I understand people want to see it as they may not have access to TWST JP but they need to understand that posting this content before the date they give all clear is insensitive. You are contributing to the problem by basically saying the creators don’t matter, their voices don’t matter. Their rules don’t matter. That ideology needs to cease and people should understand that they are not always entitled to post whatever they want whenever they want, especially when it is laid out specifically in the game’s news on the app and website.

Do NOT contribute to the problem, if you do they may NEVER give this content again and you could ruin the experience for EVERYONE. It’s tempting, I get it, I understand fully, I will record them myself and schedule the video to release later on, specially on August 1st JP to share with you all.

Remember, posting this content before they say we may can prevent other impressive and exciting content from being released later on in the future, do not be a part of this problem, actually listen and don’t post this content anywhere. I

Read about it here:

- Windblume

PLEASE LIKE, SHARE, AND REBLOG!!

#windblume rambles #twisted wonderland #twst #twst spoilers #twst jp spoilers #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #twst anime #twisted wonderland anime #anime news #disney twst

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hauntedtrait · 3 days ago

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Drama In The Family: A Legacy Challenge

by yours truly, and my friend @greglunvik

For a little bit of a preamble, if you'll allow me... About a year ago, Fae and I were talking about wanting legacies with more drama, so one thing led to another and we started writing our own. As the title suggests, the focus of the legacy challenge is on drama within families. We put a lot of thought and love into this, so I hope you enjoy this as much as we do!

The DITF legacy challenge currently has 7 generations, with a lot of pack integration. We might, in the future, add more gens as new packs come out or we have more ideas, but for now, we've got these seven.

The guidelines + first generation will be under the cut, but the rest you'll be able to see by going to:

THE GOOGLE DOCS

Guidelines

Firstly and most importantly: have fun! The challenge guidelines are just that, they are not a strict rule set you absolutely must follow no matter what, feel free to change things around as you see fit. If it works for you, then it’s right.

This challenge was created with all packs and some mods in mind to enhance gameplay, but do not let that stop you, adapt as needed.

Wanna cheat, feel free to cheat, who are we to stop you! (That said you miiight have more fun if you don’t — unless you absolutely need to)

Some gens are meant to be played immediately after the one listed above it, but the overall order isn’t absolute and you’re welcome to change it around. The only hard rule is that the White Picket Fence MUST be the founding generation.

For each generation multiple traits, skills, careers and aspiration options will be presented to you. We recommend picking 2 or 3 of the suggested traits, and the third (or more, if you use the 5 traits mod) is up to you, and 3 or more skills. It’s also up to you which aspiration(s) you complete, as long as you complete at least one from the list!

Reaching career level 10 is not required unless specified.

Each gen starts at the young adult life stage.

Suggestions

Medium and long lifespans will offer more time and opportunities to fully experience all aspects of this legacy challenge, but if you prefer to play on short you are more than welcome to.

Utilize gameplay from L&D and Growing Together if you have them to give each generation more depth, like Wills, Bucket List, Heirlooms and Keepsake boxes.

If you have the Businesses & Hobbies expansion and like that kind of gameplay, you could use a Small Business in place of the career option to make it more immersive (ie. if the career is lawyer, you could make a law firm small business)

Generation One: White Picket Fence

You come from a very traditional household and always imagined yourself following the same path as your parents: marrying your high school sweetheart, having three kids together and living in the perfect white picket fence home. Unfortunately, things have not turned out that way so far – there was no childhood sweetheart and your apartment is far from perfect. You start university, but you find yourself struggling to stay on track. You work odd jobs and part time to make ends meet while you try to figure it out. At this point in your life, you’re actually not sure if everything you’ve always dreamed of having is what you really wanted.

Career: Any

Aspirations: Any

Traits (Pick 2-3): Hates Children, Self-Absorbed, Romantically Reserved (or Unflirty if you do not have the Lovestruck pack), Non-Committal, Lazy.

Skills (Pick 3 or more): Charisma, Logic, Writing, Knitting, Pottery,

Goals

Start in a small apartment or still living with your family. Cheat or use SNB bank mod to give your sim 2000 simoleons or less.

Work odd jobs or part time until you get pregnant/get someone pregnant from a one night stand or short relationship.

Shotgun wedding! Marry the first sim you get pregnant with during the pregnancy. Bonus points: your spouse must have a conflicting trait with one or more of yours.

Once married, move into a fixer upper home and renovate as family funds grow, doing the nursery first of course.

Start your career, you can’t keep up a family of three and a house on gig work after all.

At some point, have an affair with a coworker.

Situations

College Cram: Finals are almost here and… you’re not prepared at all. Truth is, you’re beyond stressed and unsure if you’re cut out for this kind of thing.

Option A: You decide it’s worth pushing through and getting this done. You’re nearing the finish line, just one more semester, you can make it work, so you pull some all-nighters and ignore the looming dread, successfully getting your degree.

Option B: The struggle is too real and you can’t deny it anymore: college isn’t for you. Your parents are disappointed and you’re not sure what you’ll do about career prospects, but you just had to get out. You drop out of college and try a different path in life than the one you chose when you were 18.

The Affair: You’ve been seeing your coworker for some time now… and your spouse finds out.

Option A: Despite your mistake, your partner forgives you, and you both promise to work to mend this relationship, after all, the kids don’t deserve the difficulties of a divorce. Unfortunately, you remain unable to stay away from your coworker… so you get better at hiding it.

Option B: This is it, the end of the line. Your partner will never see past what you’ve done. Divorce is filed, it is not amicable, but it is fair, each one gets half, and custody is split evenly, with the kids spending equal time with each parent.

Extras/Optional

Live and bicker with a roommate while living in the apartment.

Despite what the description implies, you don’t HAVE to go to uni and work at the same time.

Also feel free to cheat for university if you’re not a fan of that kind of gameplay.

Your spouse must have a conflicting trait with one or more of yours.

Your coworker must have great compatibility with you.

Make your sims parents and siblings, if they’re still alive!

Have more than one kid, maybe even one with your lover?

#sims legacy challenge #sims 4 legacy challenge #ts4 legacy challenge #s4 legacy challenge

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navybrat817 · 2 days ago

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Hold You Tight: Part 27

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 26 | Series Masterlist | Part 28

Chapter Word Count: Almost 4k

Chapter Summary: An idea comes to you regarding part of your future and Bucky has a few choice words for your parents.

Chapter Warnings: Confrontation, bonding of sorts, inner turmoil, world building, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: I don't know what happened to the original post. Let's try this again! More Hold You Tight, and thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411 , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought it would feel strange with Curtis hanging out in the kitchen while you baked the brownies, but it wasn’t as bad as you thought, and it was something you’d have to get used to since he would be around you going forward. He didn’t try to fill the silence with small talk unless you asked him a question, likely trying to remain in the “shadows”. You did wonder what was on his mind since he mentioned being trapped, but it wasn’t any of your business. He was your bodyguard and that didn’t mean he’d be your friend.

“Smells delicious,” he said, standing when you took them out of the oven.

“Don’t worry. I won't burn myself,” you said, nodding for him to sit back down. “And thanks. I hope you like them.”

“I'm sure I will.”

Ray walked into the kitchen the moment you set the brownies out to cool off and looked between you and Curtis who settled back in his chair. “A treat for breakfast?” he guessed.

“A treat for Curtis,” you said, making your bodyguard smile a little.

Ray blinked hard and slow. “I see,” he said, pushing his glasses up. Did that upset him?

“Well, that batch is for Curtis. You have first dibs on the other batch,” you clarified.

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” The blonde raised an eyebrow. “And what about the boss?”

“He’s third. He knows what he did,” you said unapologetically. They were your brownies. You could do what you wanted with them.

Curtis hid a smile before Ray asked, “And how are you feeling?”

You put your hands on the counter and shrugged. “Hard to say since I’m seeing my parents today and still dealing with…”

“Everything,” Ray finished for you.

You nodded. “I appreciate you asking.” It felt like you hadn’t talked to him in days and you admittedly missed it. Like Curtis, keeping you safe wasn’t a bore or chore in his eyes. He believed you were brave and part of you was starting to believe it, too.

“We’re all glad you're safe now,” he softly said.

“Careful there. You might be showing emotion,” Curtis said, earning him a glare from his colleague.

“Where’s Bucky?” you asked.

“He sulked for a minute when you kicked him out of the kitchen,” he said, making Curtis snort. Again, Bucky knew what he did. “But he’s in his office. Called Steve and Natalia. He also got an update on Lois.”

“How is she?” you asked, hoping that things were still looking up.

“She’s recovering well,” he assured you. You were glad to hear that. “From what we know, she’s stubborn and strong and it’ll take time, but she’ll be fine.”

You let out a breath. “I really need to see her, and I need to talk to Natasha,” you said. A woman you could hopefully help heal and move forward and a woman who was going to help you in some capacity. Both receiving and paying it forward. As that thought settled in your mind, an idea washed over you, making you stand up straighter and look at Ray again.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I have a thought,” you answered, trying not to get too excited. “I need to talk to Bucky.”

Curtis jumped from his chair when you walked out without another word, his footsteps behind you nearly silent. He really was going to be a good bodyguard for you. Ray followed, too, likely curious about why you rushed out so quickly.

Bucky looked up from his desk when you walked into the office, a smile on his face when he stood up. “Brownies ready?” he asked, holding his hand up to keep Curtis and Ray from walking in.

“Yeah, but that’s not what I came in here for,” you said, taking a seat on the sofa. Bucky immediately went to join you. “I have a bit of a crazy idea and I wanted to get your opinion on it.”

“You want my opinion?” The subtle shift in his posture showed he was touched. “And I’m the crazy one, Kotyonok, so nothing you could say would ever sound crazy to me.”

You didn’t dispute that he was crazy. “So, you know how one of the things that attracted you to me was helping your mom and my generally kind nature?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“And you helped Natasha however long ago so she could give the women who work at her hotel a better life, right?” you continued. You remembered Natasha telling you if it wasn't for Bucky she wouldn't be where she was.

“Yes, I did,” he confirmed, not elaborating on how or why.

“What if I do something kind of like that? What if I try to help other women who have…” You swallowed and tried to find the right words, suddenly nervous to ask for his opinion. “Been through stuff, like Lois or me.”

He tilted his head. “You want to help women who have been hurt in some capacity?”

“Yeah. Assault. Abuse. Trauma,” you said. You thought of your own situation, not just Clark's attack, but Bucky systemically making his way into your life. He wasn't out to harm you, but some stalkers did try to harm their victims. “And it's not like I’d have to quit being a florist. I just… I don't know. I want to do something.”

It could've been a means to take back some more control of your life. Being by Bucky’s side, you didn’t want to lose who you were in your core and wanted to continue putting good back into the world. Perhaps you wanted to pay it forward even more since others didn't have the kind of money and protection you now had.

“It’s stupid, isn't it?” you asked when he stayed quiet.

You were a florist. Yes, you volunteered when you could and wanted to help people, but it wasn’t your area of expertise. An endeavor like that was out of your depth, wasn't it?

Bucky framed your face, his eyes flashing with a mixture of pride and fury. “Don't you ever say an idea of yours is stupid. I won't stand for that,” he said, his gaze softening considerably. “Especially since that’s a great idea.”

You studied him, looking for any sign that he was joking. He wasn’t. “Really?” you asked in a small voice.

He kissed the tip of your nose with a smile. “Really. Money won’t be an issue. We can sketch out a plan and figure out what exactly you want to focus on, start local and small. Or you can sketch out the plan and I’ll give input if you seek it out,” he said, a hint of his businessman tone coming out. “If this is really something you want, we’ll make it happen.”

“So, just like that?” you asked. He was really supporting this?

“Of course. It’s admirable that you continue to look out for others and I’m going to support whatever you want to do,” he said.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You didn’t want to admit how nice it felt that he was backing this up, especially when you had no set plan yet.

“It also means a lot that you asked for my opinion.”

“Well, we have to talk through these things. It’s what couples do,” you said.

His smile was brighter than the light in the room. “So, you really see us as a couple now.”

“I guess so,” you said. What choice did you have?

He sighed before he kissed your lips, featherlight and full of promise. “You won’t regret it,” he whispered, suddenly standing and helping you to your feet, too. “You’re still in your robe.”

“I’ve been in the kitchen this whole time,” you reminded him, your mind going back to Curtis and wondering more about his past.

Bucky checked his watch. “Why don’t you get ready for lunch? I think Curtis and Ray have seen you in your robe enough for one day,” he tried to tease and checked his watch.

“And what about the day I’m walking around in nothing but my underwear?” you blurted out without meaning to.

Darkness crossed Bucky’s eyes, but it was more lust than rage when he put his hands on your hips. “I’d hate to have to hurt my own men, but I do love the thought of you walking around our home so… freely.”

“I’ll bet you do,” you whispered, knowing he’d probably chase you around or drag you to bed if he had the chance. “But for now, yes, I should get dressed.”

“Don’t want to keep your parents waiting,” he said, letting you pull away to get ready. “I hope I make a lasting impression.”

You shivered, wondering just what kind of impression he wanted to make. “I’m sure you will.”

Curtis leaned against the wall outside of the office while Ray stood on the other side. “You want to help others, huh?” your bodyguard asked.

You stopped to face him. “Yeah, I do.”

Curtis didn’t say anything else, but he looked impressed. So did Ray. You didn’t have time to dwell on that. You had to get ready for a lunch that you didn’t want to go to.

But your whole life as of late had been a series of events you had to participate in without much of a choice, so what was one more?

Bucky held your hand the entire drive to the restaurant and didn’t force you to talk, which you appreciated since your stomach was in knots. You found yourself playing with the diamond necklace, which he had put around your neck before you left. Your mom would no doubt stare at it or make a comment since you had never had such a nice piece of jewelry. Was this going to be a disaster or were you overthinking it?

“We’ll get through this quickly,” Bucky told you once the car stopped, his lips brushing the top of your hand. “Long enough for me to meet them and send them on their way.”

The knot in your stomach tightened more. How exactly was he going to send them on their way? “And after that?”

“Whatever you want,” he promised, helping you out of the car.

You didn’t pay much attention as you were escorted to the private table, but you knew Ray and Curtis weren’t far behind. The place was bright and airy, but sophisticated. It would've been a nice place to go on a date. Would this lunch sour that idea?

“I’m here,” Bucky whispered, pulling out your chair for you.

Considering the way he burst into your life you never expected to lean on him for anything. You had since your attack and now this, looking to him for support without meaning to. You even asked for his opinion on your idea to help other women, which you did seek out. Who were you becoming?

“Why do I care so much about what they think?” you asked when he sat down beside you.

“Because they’re your parents and it’s natural,” he replied, taking your hand under the table. “But you don’t need them.”

You were about to argue that you did need them before you caught them in your line of sight, your back rigid as they moved closer. They didn’t look overjoyed to see you, which broke your heart a bit. Bucky squeezed your hand before you realized you had squeezed his hand first. This was going to be a long lunch.

“It’s good to see you,” your dad said when Bucky released your hand only to pull your chair back to help you stand. “And you must be-”

“Bucky, her boyfriend. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said, shaking his hand and smirking when your dad winced and turning a critical eye on your mom. Neither of them hugged you before they took their seats and you quickly sat back down to hide your embarrassment. “You two raised quite the woman,” he added, daring them to say something.

“Thank you,” your mom said, looking over the menu.

“Since the menu seems to be more important than greeting your daughter, please, pick whatever you want,” Bucky smiled like a wolf getting ready to strike while you gaped at him. “I spare no expense when it comes to her and her… loved ones. Just look at her necklace. I purchased it for our first date.”

Your mom’s mouth fell open and you felt a bit of satisfaction when your dad squirmed in his seat. Did that make you a bad person? “I’m sorry. I meant nothing by it.” Your mom cleared her throat. “We’re thrilled to see you. It’s just with our accounts being frozen…”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind,” you filled in the blanks. You were used to it.

“Yes, I’m sorry about your accounts,” Bucky said without sounding sorry at all and pretended to look over his menu. “Interesting how you always think of others first even when you have a lot on your mind, Kotyonok,” he said loud enough for the whole table to hear. “Makes me wonder what that came from.”

Your mom’s mouth didn’t drop again, but you heard her sharp inhale on her next breath and your dad squirmed again. They weren’t used to subtle insults like that, especially for someone who had just met them. But as Bucky took your hand, you very much felt like his queen and he was defending you as such.

“Aren’t you going to compliment her necklace?” Bucky asked, turning his head to smile at you. “It’s as beautiful as she is.”

Your face felt hot when your parents stared and admired the diamonds. “They don’t have to say anything,” you mumbled.

“But I don’t understand. What kind of parents don’t compliment their child, especially when they haven’t seen them in some time?” he asked. Once again, it was loud enough for them to hear. He was digging the knife in and twisting it in the most passive aggressive way.

“It’s beautiful,” your mom said enviously, avoiding looking at Bucky.

“Thanks,” he said, flagging the server down and putting a hand to his chest. “Like I said, whatever you want. It’s on me.”

You picked a light meal, knowing there was a high chance you couldn’t stomach something heavy. Your mom chose the highest priced meal, which Bucky merely smiled expectantly. Your dad had the good sense to not do the same. It would’ve been nice if they asked how you were or gave some sort of indication that they cared.

“How did you two meet?” your dad asked to break the tension, which only made you nervous all over again.

“My club, and I very much fell for her first,” Bucky answered easily and leaned over to kiss your temple. “I knew she was the one the moment I laid eyes on her.”

“Club?” your mom questioned. “Since when do you go to clubs?”

“It was for Addison’s bachelorette party,” your boyfriend answered for you, smiling again. “You know Addison, don’t you? I would hope so. She’s practically family to her.”

You took a sip of your water and said nothing as your parents looked more uncomfortable with each passing second. The air was awkward to say the least. Bucky, on the other hand, looked over the moon one second and was ready to kill the next. It had to be giving your parents whiplash.

“She’s a good friend,” your mom said, her smile shaky. “How’s the shop?” she asked, changing the subject.

“The shop’s great,” you said and found yourself smiling since you did love the place and your job. “Mrs. Crandle is still a great boss and-”

“And you’re still just a florist,” she cut you off dismissively with a shake of her head, wiping your smile away. “You could’ve been so much more.”

Your eyes glossed over, but you held your head high. “There’s nothing wrong with me being a florist, and I am more.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“Ease up,” your dad whispered to your mom, shocking you both. Since when was he not on her side? Or was it because Bucky glared at them?

“Just a florist.” The man beside you chuckled, a dark and empty sound. “Tell them about the idea you told me about earlier today.”

The knot filled your stomach so much that you feared you’d get sick. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you said, not wanting to hear what they had to say since they never backed you up on anything.

“But it’s a great idea,” he assured you, giving your parents a smile. “Wait until you hear it.”

Your dad leaned forward and appeared interested. Was it for show? “What is it?”

Bucky nodded, encouraging you to speak up. “I went through something recently,” you said carefully, not wanting to blurt it out. “And it made me realize I want to help others and build a support system for women who have been through things.”

Your parents looked at each other as you held your breath. “That sounds ambitious,” your dad said just as carefully as you. “I realize you have good intentions, but…”

“You can’t just up and decide you want to run a charity,” your mom said, laughing and tapping her finger on the table when Bucky gripped his water glass. “You need more than just good intentions. You need experience and funding, which you have none of.”

You sighed. It was exactly what you expected. They wanted you to be more, but offered no encouragement when you tried.

“Aren’t you even going to ask what I went through?” you asked, your voice thick with emotion. For the first time, your mom looked worried. “Someone-”

“They don’t deserve to know.” Bucky took a sip before he gently set the glass down, making you eye him warily. He looked like he was ready to explode. “She isn’t just deciding, by the way. She has volunteer experience and she’s going to formulate a plan. And what she may lack in other ‘experiences’, she has passion, heart, and drive. It’s a shame you're too blind to see that.”

Your mom shrank back in her seat, looking as small as you felt. “I didn’t mean-”

“And as far as funding, I’ll be helping her with that since I don't expect either of you to lend her a thing. She has her own money, too. You just didn't know it,” he explained, bitterly laughing again at their shocked expressions. “Jesus Christ. You’re her parents. You should be proud of her. She’s loved by everyone she meets and she has thrived without your support.” He let that hang in the air before he continued. “She has more character in her finger than you two have in your entire body and I will back her up on anything and everything she needs because I believe in her.”

You placed a hand on Bucky’s thigh to ground him, your eyes welling with tears again. You were torn between not wanting him to cause a scene and for him to keep speaking because it just felt nice to hear. It felt pathetic and empowering, a strange combination.

“I just wanted you to support and love me,” you whispered, your chest aching at finally saying the words. “Why didn't you?”

Why did it hurt so much that you didn't have the love you needed?

Your dad leaned back like you slapped him while your mom didn't move. “We did and do love you,” he swore, looking to his wife for help when Bucky scoffed in disbelief. “Tell her.”

He shouldn't have to tell her that.

“We just wanted you to have direction,” your mom said, flinching when Bucky leaned forward with one elbow on the table. She couldn't even say she loved you.

“She has always had direction. You just never bothered to look where she was going,” he said, his voice soft and dangerous. “Though I guess your lack of support helped build her into the woman I love, so I almost wonder if I should thank you for not being who she needed.”

“I’m not going to sit here and let you continue to insult us,” your dad said since your mom was rendered speechless for once.

You almost warned your dad that Bucky wasn't the kind of man to mouth off to, but didn't.

“You know, I think I know now why you wanted to become a florist,” Bucky said as if he didn’t hear him. “You’re surrounded by warmth and brightness and you get to watch things bloom and grow and thrive because you never had that.”

You blinked away your tears. Bucky saw what they didn’t. You didn’t have to point it out.

“We do love our daughter, even if we didn't show it in the best way,” your dad argued, trying to take your hand across the table, but Bucky pulled you back. It was another brick added to the wall to keep people he didn’t want near you out.

“You didn’t love her enough and you never will.” He took his wallet out and threw some money on the table, more than enough to cover the meals that hadn’t yet arrived at the table. “Thank God I love her enough for all of us and I always will.”

Your mom sniffled. You hardly ever saw her cry. “I…” She trailed off when your boyfriend tossed more money on the table.

“That should cover the rest of your time here in the city. Take it. Or don’t. But I’m not going to sit here and play nice with people who make my future wife feel low about herself.” He pushed himself up and let your parents see just how large and imposing he was. “Just leave her alone the way you always have.”

They were good at leaving you alone.

“Please,” your dad begged, making you pause. “We’re sorry.”

“Empty apologies mean nothing,” Bucky said, his eyes narrowed. “Oh, and as it stands, I don’t want you at our wedding, but maybe your loving daughter will change my mind.”

“Wedding?!” your mom exclaimed.

“Yes, she’s going to be my wife and have a wonderful lifetime with me.” He smiled when you didn't disagree. “Enjoy the rest of your trip.”

Bucky helped you up from the table and led you away, not even letting you look back when you heard your mom choke on a sob. They didn’t chase after you. They never would.

Your steps felt heavy. Your head spun. It was a relief that they knew how you felt in some capacity, but you didn't feel much better. Why not?

“They’re the past and I’m your present and future,” your boyfriend whispered, slipping an arm around you when you bit your lip. “I’m the family you need.”

“Thank you for sticking up for me,” you said, making him preen.

“I’ll always defend and stick up for you,” he promised, his grip possessive. “And I'm proud of you.”

What was there to be proud of? No, you wouldn't think like that. You were a good person, and a survivor. Your parents and their lack of support and care wouldn't take that from you.

“But I didn’t even get to tell them what happened.” What if they had wanted to help? They weren’t loving, but you were still their daughter and your mom had looked worried for a second.

“You don’t need them. Not when you have me,” he said, leaving no room to argue when he nodded to Ray and Curtis who hovered nearby. “And I won't let them hurt you ever again.”

You should’ve known lunch with your parents meant Bucky would close the door. You would have no choice but to move forward. And you didn't know what that meant except that you were now one step closer to being entirely his.

This chapter took a lot out of me! As a mom who wants to show nothing but love and support to my babies (and protect them), I want to wrap Kotyonok in a huge hug. Where do we think they'll go from here? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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sillygoose067 · 12 hours ago

Note

hi!! is it possible for you to write one for lewis pullman in general or bob floyd inspired by this

Hi! Yes of COURSE it’s possible, I’m so glad you asked :) I chose to do Lewis for this one, but maybe in the future I’ll do a Bob Floyd version… 🤔💭

Also the tweet itself is so funny I swear I’ve seen it like 50 other times and still laughed at it. Thanks for bringing it back!

———————————————————————————-

Plus One, Minus Me

Lewis Pullman x Reader

You were halfway through another spreadsheet, fingers stiff from typing, when your phone started to buzz across the desk. The screen lit up with a name that made the corners of your mouth soften—Lew💞.

You tucked the phone between your shoulder and ear, already grateful for the break. “Hey, you,” you said, brushing a crumb from your lap. “What’s up?”

His voice came through, winded. “Quick question—where are you?”

You frowned faintly, clicking away from the screen. “Um. At work? Still chained to the desk. Why?”

There was a shuffle on the other end. Distant laughter. A thud, like someone had dropped something nearby. And then—faintly—a child's voice calling for someone named "Captain Lewis."

“…Wait,” you said, straightening up. “Where are you?”

“I’m at your family’s place?” he replied, like it was obvious. “The cookout. The one you told me about last week?”

Your brain did a somersault. You yanked open your calendar. June 25th — Family cookout, 3 PM — backyard, bring something sweet?

Oh god. You had told him.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “I completely forgot.”

“I thought you were just running late,” he said, unbothered. “Your mom texted me the address this morning, so I just showed up. Figured it'd be polite to shake some hands and make a quiet exit.”

You groaned, already burying your face in one hand. “I had back-to-back reports this morning. I didn’t even think—I’m so sorry—wait, how are you even surviving out there? My family’s like, full-contact socializing.”

There was a brief silence, and then a huff of laughter.

“Yeah, I didn’t really get a choice. Your aunt handed me a pair of tongs before I even finished saying hello. I’ve grilled, stacked chairs, lost a round of trivia, and now I’m being roped into a scavenger hunt by your cousin? I think I’m her team captain now?”

You could almost see him: sleeves rolled up, awkwardly trying to blend in, probably blushing his way through small talk while balancing a paper plate.

“Lewis,” you sighed, equal parts charmed and horrified.

But he didn’t hear it. His voice had shifted, distracted again. “Wait—someone’s calling me—uh, hey, sorry, I can’t really talk right now, I’m being drafted into backyard dodgeball. Your dad’s on the opposing team and he’s been warming up for ten minutes—I think he’s taking this personally—okay, gotta go—bye!”

Click.

You blinked.

He hung up.

He actually hung up on you.

To play dodgeball.

At your family’s cookout.

That you forgot about.

A scoff caught in your throat—half disbelieving, half amazed. You shook your head and stared at the phone like it had betrayed you. Moments later, a message came in.

A photo. Blurry but full of motion. Lewis in the foreground, red-cheeked and triumphant, clutching a foam ball like a prize. Behind him: your dad mid-sprint, your cousin ducking for cover. Someone had stuck a makeshift nametag on Lewis’s shirt. It read: “TEAM MVP.”

Then came the text:

Lew💞: “Tell me this counts as cardio. Also tell your mom I’m winning? Sort of.”

You felt a smile start somewhere deep and involuntary. A quiet warmth that spread beneath your ribs.

You: “I can’t believe you’re just out there bonding with my entire family without me:(”

Lew💞: “Yeah, well. Someone had to represent you. I’m doing my best. Now if you’ll excuse me, your uncle just pulled out the water balloons.”

Pause.

Lew💞(follow-up): “P.S. Tell your boss you’re missing a great pasta salad.”

———

You managed to finish up your shift a little after sunset, eyes heavy and brain gelatinous from too many hours of spreadsheets and fluorescent lights. But as soon as you clocked out, your feet moved on instinct. You barely thought about it—just turned the wheel and pointed your car in the direction of home. Or at least, the temporary version of it: your parents’ house, backyard still glowing with string lights and the leftover echo of laughter.

By the time you pulled up, most of the chaos had thinned. The crowd had quieted to clusters of folding chairs and flickering citronella candles. A few cousins darted around with glow sticks; someone had put on an old playlist, the kind that lived in your family’s blood more than memory.

You stepped into the yard with a breath held like a confession.

Your parents were at the patio table, sipping something warm, plates scraped mostly clean. Your mom saw you first. Her eyes lit up, though she didn’t rise—just waved you over with a small smile.

“I’m so sorry,” you said as soon as you reached them. “I completely spaced. Work swallowed me whole.”

Your dad waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. We figured you’d show up when you could.”

“Besides,” your mom said, patting your arm. “Lewis made up for both of you.”

You blinked. “He did?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she said, grinning. “He’s been playing referee, grill assistant, magician, babysitter, and apparently—”

Your dad cut in. “—the reigning water balloon dodge champion.”

You laughed, cheeks warming. “Where is he now?”

Your mom stood, nodding for you to follow her through the side of the yard. “He wore himself out. The little ones ran him into the ground.”

You passed the garden hose, a collapsed beach ball, and a pair of soaked sneakers—evidence of earlier warfare—and then turned the corner into the screened-in sunroom.

There he was. Sprawled on the old futon like a crime scene outline, one arm thrown dramatically over his eyes. His shirt was damp, hair tousled, and someone had draped a beach towel over him like a blanket. Your youngest cousin had left a juice box balanced precariously on his chest.

You stood in the doorway and just stared for a second. He looked so comfortable. Like he belonged there. Like your family had absorbed him fully, and he’d let it happen.

“He kept saying he wasn’t tired,” your mom said quietly behind you. “Then he sat down for one second and passed out like a light.”

You glanced at her, grateful.

“Thanks for looking after him.”

She touched your back, light as a whisper. “He fits, sweetheart. Good one, that boy.”

You smiled, then stepped forward to kneel by the futon. You gently moved the juice box, then brushed a hand along his arm. “Hey,” you murmured. “Ready to head home?”

He stirred, blinking slowly, smile groggy and crooked. “Did we win?”

“You definitely lost consciousness, so… sort of.”

He laughed under his breath, voice husky with sleep. “Your cousin is terrifying. I think I work for her now.”

“Come on,” you said, nudging him upright. “Let’s get you out of here before she demands overtime.”

You guided him to the car, waving your goodbyes over your shoulder as he leaned sleepily against you, still radiating warmth from all the attention and adrenaline. And as you drove, his head tipped gently against the window, you couldn’t help but marvel at it all.

By the time you pulled into the driveway, the stars were out and the air had that summer hush to it—cool against your skin, the kind of quiet that only arrives after a long, noisy day.

Lewis was half-asleep again in the passenger seat, arms folded, head resting against the window like he might be dreaming something sweet. You hated to wake him, but the porch light flickered on as the car door opened, and he stirred on his own, rubbing at his eyes.

“Home?” he murmured.

You nodded. “Just about.”

Inside, you helped him kick off his shoes while he yawned like a cartoon character. He dropped his keys twice, then muttered something about how your cousins had “the combined energy of a nuclear plant.” You snorted as you tossed the spare blanket from the couch over his shoulders and went to fetch a glass of water.

When you came back, he was standing in the kitchen doorway, eyes soft and half-lidded, just watching you.

“You’re staring,” you said, offering him the glass.

He took it with both hands, sipped, then said, “Your mom likes me.”

“She does.”

“Your dad said I throw like a ‘real man,’ which I think was a compliment.”

You laughed and leaned your hip against the counter. “You made quite the impression.”

He gave a sleepy smile. “I just didn’t want them to miss you too much.”

That made you pause. Then step forward.

And tuck a hand into the curve of his elbow.

“I think you distracted them just fine.”

You guided him to the couch and sat down beside him, legs curled under you, shoulder brushing his. He exhaled, deep and slow, like he was finally letting go of the day.

After a moment, you reached over, gently pulling a stray blade of grass from his hair.

He watched you with that look of his—soft, a little amused, all affection.

“Thanks for showing up,” you said quietly.

He blinked. “Of course.”

“No, I mean… not just for me. For them. For being there, even when I wasn’t. You didn’t have to.”

He leaned back, head tilted, eyes studying you in that unassuming way of his. Then: “Yeah, but you love them. And I love you. It’s not that complicated.”

Your breath caught a little. Because of how easy, how logical he made it sound.

And how right it felt, hearing it here, in this quiet pocket of the night, after everything.

You didn’t say anything right away. Just reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his.

Outside, a cricket chirped somewhere in the dark. The kind of sound that only made silence feel more full, not less.

Eventually, he sank sideways into the cushions and pulled you gently with him.

And there, tangled together on the couch, your fingers still warm in his, you revelled in this love you'd found.

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veryfruitywriting · 2 days ago

Text

even more headcanons of mac !

—from date everything—

it is currently 4:18 in the morning and i cannot fall asleep. i saw some cute fanart of mac and decided to write more content about them <3

this will probably be queued later in the morning hehe please ignore any mistakes as i’m just doing this as i go!

keep in mind this will be loosely based on their more “humanoid” forms that we see in the polaroids!

— it can be a bit tiring sitting in a chair all day, especially when it’s mostly forced upon you. you can’t afford those unique table that can change its height so being hunched over your desk will have to do for now.

— you can tell Mac gets tired of it as well. They have a comfortable chair and all—as it’s their only mobility—but the sound of just laying down and allowing their body to be one straight line sounds wonderful.

— you both look at each other and decided it’s time to take a break from the computer and its demanding duties.

— “after you,” you open the door swiftly, allowing them to wheel through and follow them to the living room.

— it was a daily routine now between the two of you. after hours of being glued to the screen, you both decide to wind down on the couch and take a breather. basking in each others presences during this downtime.

— you firmly lift them up from their chair and hold them close to your chest, planting a quick kiss on their jawline before falling onto the couch. a quick ‘oof’ and sigh was heard from you as you sunk into the couch.

— mac crossed their leg over the other as they adjusted themselves on your lap. their shoulders pressed at your chest and their head at the crook of your neck, they found themselves in a very comfortable position.

— you both talk softly. whether its about how tiring work is or plans for dinner, it didn’t matter. just hearing their voice was just enough for you.

— your eyes are closed while you two chatted. you were trying to heal your eyes from your bad habit of not blinking when it came to any large screen. you could feel air hit your now exposed neck as you felt mac lean back slightly. they were simply admiring your resting expression now. your slightly frowned eyebrows and your faint eye bags were the little things they loved to witness.

— you continued to hold them. your hand on their outer thigh and the other one at their waist. you know mac has a strong core and won’t allow them to slip off that easy, but you couldn’t help but be so physical with them.

— they are the same way with you. at this moment, they are currently brushing the strands of hair behind your ears, keeping them away from hiding any wrinkle or freckle that you were blessed with.

— and when they’re done with that, they tug at the fabric of your shirt. or possibly trace imaginary lines on your exposed arms. or might even mess with any wrist bands you may have. it doesn’t matter. they cannot keep their hands off of you.

— and neither can you.

it’s now 5am RAAAHHHHH. future me, was it worth it 💔

also i’m fixing the photos, themes, and possibly titles for my other hcs/posts so don’t fear!!! they’re just getting a little makeover! all of them are linked on my pinned <3

#mac date everything #date everything x reader #mac date everything x reader #mac nation #date everything mac #mac x reader #veryfruitywriting #date everything #5am writings #oh man #i feel myself getting tired so maybe there’s hope #ANYWHO #ENJOY

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lunar-tale · 3 days ago

Text

🩷 Messages from your Future Spouse 🩷

Pick a Lee Felix

Hello, my lovely darlings. Thank you so much for the love on my first reading, I really appreciate each and every one of you who liked and reblogged it, it really makes a difference to me. Let's get on to the next reading! Pick the picture of our own Yongbokkie that you like the most (it must really speak to you) and read that pile! I hope it resonates with you and I hope you enjoy!

Pile 1 🧡

"I know you’ve been the one holding it all together. The giver. The helper. The one who says, 'It’s okay, I’ve got it,' even when you don’t. You’ve loved people who didn’t know how to build with you - only how to lean on you. But love isn’t meant to feel like effort without return, and when we find each other, you won’t have to do this alone anymore.

I won’t just meet you halfway - I’ll know how to stand beside you. I’ll be patient with the parts of you that learned to settle. I’ll see the way your eyes go distant when old hopes start whispering, and I’ll bring you back. Gently.

I know you miss things that never fully bloomed. People you gave pieces of your heart to and never got them back. But none of that was wasted. Every unfinished chapter taught you what you deserve - and it’s me. It’s this. A home you don’t have to earn. A love that stays.

We’re still finding our way to each other. But when we do? It’ll feel like the first time someone truly looked at you - and saw the whole picture.”

Pile 2 💚

"I’ve felt your loneliness before I ever knew your name. The way you’ve walked through the world with quiet strength, even when it felt like no one had your back. You’ve been shut out, left out or made to feel like love was something to be earned - not simply given. And I’m sorry for every time you had to question your worth.

Fate hasn’t always been kind. I know you’ve wondered if the timing’s just...off. If things keep slipping away because you’re somehow not ready or not enough. But it’s not you - it’s the process. And I promise, it’s not over. It’s realigning.

Right now, you’re growing in ways you can’t even see yet. You’re becoming someone who can recognize the kind of love I’ll bring you - not the kind that burns out, but the kind that builds. Slow, steady, real. I admire your effort, your persistence, your refusal to give up on yourself even when the world tries to quiet your spark.

And that spark? I’ll see it the moment I meet you. You’ll be lit up from the inside - curious, bold, maybe a little guarded still. But you’ll be ready. Ready to start something new. And so will I."

Pile 3 💙

"You’ve been following all the ‘right’ steps. Doing what’s expected. Holding yourself together with grace, even when it feels like the world only cheers for you when you’re achieving, succeeding, shining. But I need you to know - my love won’t arrive just because you’ve performed well enough. It won’t be another prize you have to earn.

I’m not coming in like a storm. I won’t be loud, or reckless, or someone who pushes their way in before you’re ready. I’m learning, too - how to slow down. How to be present. How to love in a way that doesn’t leave people empty.

You’ve given so much of your heart to people who weren’t ready to hold it. Maybe part of you still wonders if the problem was you - if you were too intense, too open, too soft. But it wasn’t you. It was timing. Mismatch. Immaturity.

When we meet, it won’t feel like a race. It’ll feel like coming home to a kind of peace you didn’t know you were allowed to have. And I’ll love you not because you’re impressive - though you are - but because I’ll see who you are when the performance stops."

#pick a pile reading #pac reading #tarotblr #tarot reading #tarot #kpop #felix #stray kids #skz #pick a card #pick a card reading #pac #lee felix

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inseobts · 12 hours ago

Note

Hello! I'd like to please request a little scenario for multiple characters if possible; I'm especially interested in your take on this with Law, Sanji and Ace given their backstory. If you're open to writing for the ladies as well then adding Robin into the mix would be appreciated! My idea is simple; an S/O with a child, and the aftermath of discovering that fact. I don't mind if it's an established relationship and there just wasn't an opportunity to meet the kid before or something else, I just like the idea of these characters dealing with the concept of surprise family/parenthood, the angst that may arise from dealing with the role of a stepparent if they want a relationship (and its happy ending if possible!) Good luck with all the requests, I hope you have fun with them!

Found Family (Reader with a Kid)

gn!reader

characters: law, sanji, ace, nico robin

tags: under each character + secret child

a/n: I started it with a fem!reader in mind and changed it to gender neutral only later since the post didn't mention the gender, so please if I missed some changes please tell me

words count: around 0.8k - 1.7k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Law:

Tags: Established Relationship, Surprise Family, Angst to Comfort, Fluff

The wind blows soft through the port town. Law steps off the ship, coat flapping behind him, hands in his pockets. He’s quieter than usual, eyes scanning the street ahead. He’s not here on a mission. He’s here for you.

You sent a letter three weeks ago.

Just one line: “I need to talk. Come if you can.”

Law doesn’t like surprises. But he comes.

He finds you standing outside a small house with peeling paint and flower pots on the windowsill. You smile when you see him, but it’s tight, like you’re scared.

He frowns “You alright?”

You nod “Yeah… I just—can we go inside? I don’t want to do this out here.”

Law follows you in. It’s warm. Smells like soup and soap. A small jacket hangs on a hook by the door. Not yours. Too small.

His sharp eyes catch it, but he doesn’t say anything yet.

You lead him to the living room and sit. He stands. Watches you.

You look down “There’s something I never told you.”

Law’s voice is low “I figured.”

You breathe in deep “I… have a kid.”

Silence.

You look up. His face is unreadable. Like ice. You hate that expression, it means he’s trying to think without feeling. To stay calm.

He speaks finally “How old?”

You blink “She’s five.”

He does the math. That means before him.

“She yours?” he asks, even though he already knows.

You nod “Yes. Mine. The... other parent's gone. Completely.”

He nods slowly. His voice is cold, but not cruel “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared.” You twist your hands “We met during a war. We never talked about kids, or… futures. Then we got together, and things felt good. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“You thought this would ruin it?”

“I thought you might walk away.”

He looks away “You didn’t trust me.”

“That’s not fair,” you say, standing now too “I’ve been through things. I didn’t know how you’d react. You’re not… You don’t talk about family. You barely talk about your past.”

His jaw tenses. You hit a nerve.

You try softer “I wanted to wait for the right moment. But there never was one. Until now.”

Silence again.

Then small footsteps.

You freeze.

Law turns just as a tiny figure walks into the room, clutching a stuffed rabbit.

“Who’s this?”

Her eyes are big, curious. Law stares.

You kneel “Sweetheart, this is Law. He’s… He’s my friend.”

Law doesn’t speak. He just looks. She hides behind your leg.

You don’t blame her.

“She’s shy,” you say “But she’s smart. She reads pirates like storybooks.”

Law kneels too, finally, lowering himself to her level. His voice softens.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” he says “I’m just… surprised.”

Your daughter peeks out “You talk funny.”

Law blinks.

You laugh nervously “He’s from the North Blue.”

“Oh.” She tilts her head “Do you have a boat?”

Law nods “A submarine.”

Her eyes widen “Cool…”

She steps forward. He doesn’t move.

Then she offers her rabbit “You wanna hold Mr. Bun?”

You almost cry.

Law takes it. Careful. Gentle. Like it’s glass.

He looks at you over her head. Still unsure. Still quiet.

But he’s here, and he’s not walking away.

The rabbit sits on the table between you.

Law hasn’t said much since dinner. He eats quietly, politely. Your daughter sits beside him, munching rice balls like they’re treasure. She’s talking to him. A lot.

“Do submarines have beds?”

“Yes.”

“Do you sleep in them?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you dream of fish?”

“…No.”

You nearly laugh into your cup. Law sends you a look. It says help me. You shrug. You’re doing fine.

When she finishes eating, you ask her to brush her teeth. She runs off with Mr. Bun in her arms. The house falls quiet again.

Law leans back in his chair.

“You didn’t even flinch,” you say “When she offered you the rabbit.”

He shrugs “She trusted me. I didn’t want to break that.”

You nod, chewing on your lip “That means a lot, Law.”

He looks at you. Eyes sharp but not cold “I’m not angry.”

“Really?”

“I’m hurt.” His voice is honest now “You didn’t tell me. I could’ve helped. Been there. Or at least known what I was walking into.”

“I know,” you whisper “I was scared. I didn’t want to push you away.”

“I’m not made of glass, Y/N. I’ve lost family. I’ve lost everything. But I never said I didn’t want to build something new.”

You look down at your hands “She’s my whole world.”

“I can see that.”

“And now that you’ve met her… what do you want?”

He pauses.

That pause stretches long and sharp between you.

Then, softly “I don’t know.”

You nod. You expected that. You’re not mad. Just scared again.

Law stands and walks to the window “She’s a good kid. Brave. You raised her well.”

You smile a little “She’s got my temper.”

“I noticed.”

You walk over to him. You both stare outside. The moon is bright tonight.

“I’m not asking you to be her father,” you say “You don’t have to… take that role if you don’t want it.”

He turns “What if I want to?”

Your breath catches.

“I don’t know how to be that,” he continues “A father. A parent. I’m… I’m a surgeon. A pirate. I know how to fight, how to cut, how to survive. Not how to raise a child.”

You place your hand over his “She doesn’t need perfect. Just present. Just kind. Even I didn’t know how to be a good parent.”

He watches you. Something cracks in his expression.

“I want you.” he says.

“I want you too.”

“But I can’t lie to you… I’m afraid. I don’t want to mess this up.”

You squeeze his hand “We’ll learn together. She’s not looking for perfect either. She just wants someone who doesn’t leave.”

That hits hard.

He nods and then tiny footsteps again.

Your daughter peeks from the hallway “Hey... can he read me a story?”

Law blinks “Me?”

She nods “You have a cool voice.”

You laugh softly “What do you say?”

He hesitates. Then walks over.

“Alright, let’s try.” he says “But only one.”

She beams.

You stand in the hallway, listening through the door. His voice is low, slow, careful. Reading a picture book about sea creatures. She’s tucked in, eyes half-closed. The rabbit is between them on the bed.

Law finishes the page. She murmurs, “You’re not scary like someone said.”

You gasp quietly. Betrayal.

Law chuckles “Someone said that?”

“Mhm. They said you’re all sharp eyes and brooding. But you’re kinda soft.”

Law mutters, “I am never going to live that down.”

You grin and walk back to the living room.

He stays. Finishes the story. Even tucks her in.

When he comes out, he looks… changed.

“You did good.” you say.

“I didn’t even sweat.”

“Liar.”

He sighs, then smirks “Okay, maybe a little.”

You take his hand again “So…”

“So.” he echoes.

“You staying the night?”

He raises a brow “You asking?”

You smile “I have tea. And a couch. Or a bed, if you behave.”

He smirks “I’ll try my best.”

── .✦ Sanji:

Tags: Flirting Sanji, Soft Sanji, Humor, Fluff, Unexpected Bonding, Found Family

Sanji flirts with you every time he sees you.

At the market “Ah, Y/N! Did the sun rise just to see your face today?”

At the docks “Want me to carry those for you, my love? Your hands are far too lovely for heavy lifting!”

Even after the battle in your city, where the Strawhats helped “You’re even more beautiful covered in blood. Should I be worried about how much I love that?”

You never fall for it. You roll your eyes. You walk away. You don’t even blush.

It drives him insane.

“You’re difficult to get,” he says one afternoon, following you through town “but I like that.”

“I don’t fall,” you say flatly “Especially not for men with hearts in their eyes.”

“Ahhh, but my heart is sincere!”

You stop and face him “Sanji. You don’t even know me.”

“I want to.”

You pause. He’s annoying, yes. But not bad. He’s never pushed you too far. Never said anything mean. Just flirty. Charming. Too charming.

You sigh “Fine. You want to know me?”

He lights up “Yes! Of course!”

“Then come with me.”

You lead him through town, away from the market, away from the noise. Into a quiet part of the island. A garden path. A small house tucked in the trees.

He’s still smiling “So this is where the beautiful Y/N hides. A date, then?”

You don’t answer. You open the door. Inside, it’s neat. Warm. Lived-in. There are toys in the corner. A tiny pair of shoes by the door.

Sanji frowns “Is this… your house?”

“Wait here.” you say.

You go into the back room. A few seconds later, you return, holding a small child. Sleepy-eyed. Holding a stuffed whale. While another lady leaves the house as if her job there is finished.

You look Sanji in the eye.

“This is my daughter.”

Sanji freezes.

Dead silent.

You wait.

You expect a nervous laugh. A fast goodbye. A dramatic “I’m not ready for this!” speech.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead…

“Her hair’s like yours,” he says softly “She’s beautiful.”

Your daughter rubs her eyes, looks at him “Who’s that?”

You answer “Just... a friend.”

Sanji kneels slowly “Hi, sweetheart. I’m Sanji. Can I say hello?”

She shrugs. He waves. She waves back with the whale.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Whale.” Sanji says seriously.

You blink.

She giggles.

You didn’t expect this.

You make tea. Sanji helps. He insists, actually.

“She can’t have sugar this late.” you say.

“Then honey,” he says “Gentle on the stomach.”

You watch as he puts her cup in front of her like a butler. Bows. She bows back. You nearly choke on your tea.

“Do you cook?” she asks.

“Oh yes,” he says “Better than anyone.”

She claps “Make us dinner!”

Sanji glances at you. You nod. Why not?

He makes a simple meal. It smells amazing. Your daughter eats two full plates.

After, she sits in his lap and shows him a book of sea animals. He listens. Really listens.

You don’t understand what’s happening.

You were trying to scare him away.

Instead, he’s… perfect.

When she falls asleep, he carries her to her bed. Quiet. Gentle.

He tucks her in, fixes her whale beside her, and kisses her forehead.

You follow him back to the living room in silence.

“Well...” you say, still confused “That wasn’t what I expected.”

He smiles but smaller this time. Softer.

“I flirt because it’s fun,” he says “But I stayed because I wanted to see you.”

You stare at him “You weren’t scared?”

“I was shocked,” he admits “But not scared. You’re a single parent. That’s strong. She’s lucky to have you.”

You look away “I thought it would make you leave.”

“I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

You smile at that and look at him again. This time longer.

Sanji isn’t just charm. He’s heart. He’s warmth.

And… maybe you were wrong about him.

Your daughter’s asleep.

Sanji’s sitting on the couch, arms stretched over the backrest like he belongs there. His jacket is off, sleeves rolled up, and a soft smile on his lips.

He looks so… calm. Like this is normal. Like he wants this.

You sit across from him, legs tucked under you. You sip your tea. Your hands are shaking just a little, but you hide it well.

“Thanks for dinner,” you say “She loved it.”

“She’s adorable,” he says, smiling “And polite. You’ve done an amazing job.”

You stare into your cup “I didn’t do it alone. But… it’s been a long time since I shared her with someone.”

Sanji watches you quietly. No teasing now. Just listening.

You swallow. Here goes nothing.

“So,” you say “I’ve decided something.”

He leans forward “Oh?”

You lift your eyes to meet his “I’m saying yes.”

His brows lift “Yes to what?”

You smile “A date.”

He freezes “Wait. A—really?”

You nod.

“I mean, I’ve been asking for weeks, but I thought you hated me.”

“I didn’t hate you,” you say “I just didn’t believe you.”

“And now?”

“Now I do.”

He stares at you for a second. Then a slow, beautiful grin spreads across his face. Like he’s won a war. Like the clouds finally moved for the sun.

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for days.

“You—you have no idea what this means to me, Y/N.”

You chuckle “I might have some idea.”

“Do you want flowers? Candles? Music? Should I wear a suit? I’ll cook, of course—”

You laugh softly “Just come as you are.”

He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly flustered “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.”

You sip your tea again. Calm on the outside.

But inside? Your heart is thundering. So loud it feels like it echoes in your chest. And he doesn't even know your heart is actually beating faster than his own.

You’ve had to be strong for so long. For your child. For yourself. Love always felt like a luxury you couldn’t afford.

But Sanji… he’s something else.

Not because he’s charming.

But because when it really mattered, he stayed.

And now, you let yourself fall a little deeper.

You stand. Walk over. And press a soft kiss to his cheek.

He goes still.

You pull back and say quietly, “Can't wait for the date.”

His eyes widen, then fill with something warm surprised, happy, maybe even a little nervous.

“You… really?” he asks, softer than you’ve ever heard him.

You nod “Don’t make me regret it.”

His laugh is breathless “Never.”

You smile, heart pounding, but you don’t let it show. He doesn’t need to know yet how much this means.

A few nights later for your first date Sanji goes all out, but not in a flashy way. It’s thoughtful. Intimate.

He sets up dinner on the ship’s deck. Small candles, soft music from a den den mushi radio, and a view of the sea under stars. He cooks something warm and comforting, not fancy, just full of love.

You talk for hours. About silly things, quiet things, your pasts and dreams. It’s easy. He listens more than he speaks, and when he does talk, it’s gentle.

No cheesy lines. Just Sanji. Real and warm.

After dessert, he walks you home in silence. Not awkward, just peaceful. The kind of quiet where you don’t need to fill space.

At your door, he looks at you with hopeful eyes but doesn’t move in. He’s waiting for your choice.

So you step closer.

You kiss him.

Soft. Sure. Just once. But it’s full of everything you’ve been holding back.

When you pull away, he blinks like he’s just been hit by a wave.

You smirk “You were taking too long.”

He laughs, dizzy and full of stars.

And for the first time in a long while, so do you.

── .✦ Ace:

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Angst, Humor, Emotional Reveal, Mutual Feelings Hidden, Teasing to Serious, Marine Conflict

The sun burns above you. You’re lying on the deck of your ship, one leg over the other, a half-empty bottle between your fingers. Ace is beside you shirtless, grinning, sweat on his brow, flame flickering off his fingers like it’s breathing with him.

“You always steal my rum.” you say, kicking him lightly.

“You always keep it warm,” he shoots back “I’m doing you a favor.”

You roll your eyes “Your idea of favors sucks.”

He leans closer, his voice lazy and smug “You didn’t say that last night.”

You groan “Get a new line, fire boy.”

He grins wider. You punch his arm. He fake-winces, like it hurt. It didn’t.

That’s the two of you: teasing, biting, half-fighting, half-kissing. No promises. No labels. Just good fun and bad timing.

Pirate life is rough. You take what joy you can.

“Hey,” you say after a long silence, watching the sky “Wanna hear a secret?”

Ace smirks, eyes still closed “If it’s about that thing you did in the galley with the honey—”

“No, dumbass. A real secret.”

That makes him open his eyes. He turns to look at you “Alright. Hit me.”

You sit up. Serious now. The bottle rests on your knee.

“I have a son.”

Ace snorts “You what?”

You nod, eyes still on the horizon “Yeah. He’s five. His name’s Ren.”

He blinks. You go on before he can interrupt.

“I had him before all this, before the piracy, before you. I got caught in something messy with the Marines. To keep him safe, I left him with my parents. Changed my name. Ran.”

Ace stares.

You keep talking “I go see him when I can. Disguised. Just for a day or two. He thinks I’m some traveling doctor or something. He doesn’t know who I really am.”

You pause. Swallow.

“It’s hell, leaving every time. But I’d rather he grow up safe than have him hunted.”

Ace starts laughing.

You blink “What the hell?”

He’s full-on laughing “Holy shit, you got me! I thought you were serious. What is this, some new kink? Roleplay? Mommy pirate stuff?”

You just look at him.

Dead quiet.

No grin. No tease.

Ace’s smile dies instantly. The flame on his fingers goes out.

“…Wait,” he says “You’re not joking?”

You don’t say anything.

His expression changes fast… shocked, confused, then something close to guilt “You really…?”

You nod once “I’m not playing around.”

He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly tense “Shit.”

“Yeah,” you say, dry “That’s usually the first response.”

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Tries again “Why are you telling me this now?”

You shrug “I don’t know. Maybe because you’re the closest thing I’ve had to a real connection in years. Or maybe I just got tired of lying all the time.”

He stares at you.

You look away “I didn’t expect you to laugh. That sucked.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Forget it.”

“No,” he says quickly “I’m serious. That was a shitty reaction. I just… I didn’t think you were the kind of person to hide something that big.”

You exhale “Turns out, I’m full of surprises.”

The silence between you is heavy now. Not like before.

Then Ace says quietly, “What’s he like?”

You blink “Huh?”

“Your kid. Ren. What’s he like?”

You smile a little “Stubborn. Smart. Messy. Loves drawing fishes. Hates carrots. Thinks I have the coolest boots in the world.”

Ace nods, quiet. He looks down, then up at you again.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs “I’m sorry for laughing. And I’m… kinda honored you told me.”

You raise a brow “Didn’t peg you for the emotional type.”

He shrugs, eyes soft “Didn’t peg you for someone with a child.”

Touché.

Ace doesn’t talk much for the next few days.

No flirting. No teasing. Just quiet looks when he thinks you’re not watching.

You try to act normal with some old jokes, same smug grin as always, but you feel it too. Everything changed with that one secret. The space between you now holds more than just fun.

It holds truth. Real, heavy, warm truth.

You’re standing at the helm when he walks up beside you.

“I want to come.” he says.

You glance at him “Come where?”

“When you go see your son.”

Your hands tighten on the wheel “Ace—”

“I’ll stay out of sight. I swear. I just… want to see him. I want to understand what you gave up. What you’re protecting.”

You study him for a moment. His eyes don’t waver. There’s no joke. No smirk.

Just Ace. Real. Honest.

You nod.

Months later — The island is quiet. A small village with stone houses, chickens in the streets, a little bakery that still smells like your childhood.

You pull your hood low. Ace wears a cap, sunglasses... he looks ridiculous, but no one’s looking at him. Just another traveler.

Your parents’ house is at the end of the road. Garden full of wildflowers. Paint peeling on the fence.

Your son is playing outside.

He doesn’t see you at first. He’s chasing butterflies. Laughing. Barefoot.

Ace stops walking.

“That’s him?” he asks, voice rough.

You nod “Ren.”

Ace just stares. His hands slowly curl into fists.

You call out softly, “Ren?”

The boy turns. His face lights up.

He runs to you screaming. You drop to your knees and catch him in your arms. He’s warm. Real. Solid.

Ace looks away.

Inside, your parents keep things short. They know who Ace is. You warned them. They’re not happy, but they trust you.

You all sit outside. Ren sits on Ace’s lap by accident. You try to grab him, but Ace just holds him steady.

“It’s okay,” he says “He’s light.”

Ren shows him a toy ship made of sticks “I made this!”

Ace chuckles “Really? That’s better than some ships I’ve sailed on.”

You stare.

Ren grins proudly “My parent used to tell me stories. About pirates and fire powers. Did you know there’s a pirate who can set his fists on fire?”

Ace raises a brow “Sounds dangerous.”

Ren gasps “But so cool!”

You laugh softly. Ace sends you a small look. It’s gentle. A little sad.

Later, when Ren naps, you and Ace sit on the back porch.

“He’s amazing.” Ace says.

“I know.”

“You’re amazing,” he adds “You left this. For his safety.”

You stare at the grass “I think about quitting all the time. Just staying here. Being at his side full time. But… the world’s not kind. And if they find me—”

“I get it,” he cuts in “You’re doing what you have to.”

You glance at him “I didn’t expect you to care so much.”

He shrugs “Neither did I.”

Then he adds, “But now I can’t stop.”

Your heart stumbles.

“He’s got your eyes.” Ace says softly.

“Don’t get attached.” you warn “This life… it’s dangerous.”

“So is mine,” he says “But that didn’t stop you from letting me in.”

You look at him. Really look.

“I didn’t plan for this...” you whisper.

“Neither did I.”

But here you both are.

And suddenly, fun doesn’t feel like the right word anymore.

The sound of quiet laughter wakes you.

You blink against the morning light, still groggy, still warm under the blanket. It takes a second to remember where you are... your parents’ house, back in your old bed.

And then you hear it again.

Ren’s voice.

And Ace’s.

You sit up, heart skipping.

You slip out of bed, still barefoot, and pad toward the living room. And there they are.

Ren sits cross-legged on the floor, his little wooden ship in one hand, while Ace sits across from him, mimicking an enemy pirate voice.

“Noooo! You got me again, Captain Ren! My ship is sinking!”

Ren giggles and throws a pillow at him “That’s what you get, bad guy!”

Ace dramatically falls back, hands in the air “Ughhh… defeated by the mightiest pirate on the seas…”

Your heart squeezes.

Ace looks so natural. Hair messy. Eyes full of warmth. Like he belongs here.

But then your parents come in.

They freeze when they see the scene.

Ace doesn’t notice at first, he’s laughing with Ren, his smile unguarded.

“Ren.” your mother says, sharply.

Your son turns.

“Come away from him,” your father says quickly, stepping forward “Now.”

Ace blinks, confused “I—”

“Ren,” your mother repeats “Come here.”

Ren looks at you, unsure.

You step in “What’s going on?”

Your father’s jaw tightens “We don’t want him near the child.”

You stare “Excuse me?”

“He’s a pirate,” your mother hisses “A famous one. Fire Fist. He’s dangerous.”

“He’s also sitting on the floor playing ships...” you snap.

Your parents say nothing.

“You trusted me enough to come here with him,” you continue, voice rising “Now you’re trying to pull Ren away like he’s some kind of monster?”

“We’re protecting our grandson.” your father says coldly.

“From what? A man who’s been nothing but kind to him?”

“You don’t know what kind of life he brings.”

“I do,” you shout “I live it too. If you forgot. And yes, it’s dangerous. Yes, it’s hard. But Ace has done nothing but respect my family, protect me, and treat Ren with more care than anyone ever has!”

They go silent.

You’re shaking now, fists clenched.

“And for your information, I love him.”

The words fall like a hammer in the room.

Ren blinks.

Your parents’ eyes widen.

Ace just stares at you.

You don’t move.

You didn’t mean to say it... not like this, not loud, not angry... but it’s out.

And real.

You look at Ace, heart thundering “I love you.”

A beat.

Then Ace stands slowly, eyes locked on yours. He walks to you, quiet. The room holds its breath.

He stops in front of you.

“I wasn’t sure if I should say it first,” he says, voice low “Didn’t want to scare you off. But you beat me to it.”

You blink.

“I love you too.” he says.

He reaches out, gentle, and takes your hand.

Your parents stay silent. Ren looks between the two of you, then claps once like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Can I have pancakes now?” he asks.

You and Ace laugh at the same time, breathless.

And just like that, the tension cracks.

── .✦ Nico Robin:

Tags: Established Relationship, Soft Confession, Emotional Intimacy, Bittersweet Past

It’s late.

Most of the crew has gone to bed, except you and Robin. You're both in the library room. She’s reading. You’re not. You're just holding the edge of a piece of paper... frayed, uneven, and pulsing with life.

A vivre card.

You don’t have to look at it to know it’s still there. Still pointing somewhere far away, where you can’t be.

Robin closes her book softly “Is that what’s been on your mind all day?”

You glance over.

Of course she noticed.

You nod “Yeah.”

She tilts her head slightly “Can I ask who it’s for?”

You hesitate.

You’ve never told her. Not because you didn’t trust her, but because it always felt like a story that belonged to a different version of you. The you from before the sea. Before the Straw Hats. Before her.

But she’s already part of everything now.

So you answer.

“My son.”

Robin says nothing but her gaze sharpens. Attentive. Careful.

“He’s with his other parent now,” you continue, voice quiet “I raised him alone before I joined the crew. He’s the one who said it was okay. Actually, we were always together, in another small crew. Then he wanted a different kind of life. One with… peace. So we contacted his other parent.”

Robin nods, slow “He sounds mature.”

“He was always like that. Smarter than me, I think.”

There’s a short silence.

You look at the vivre card “I haven’t seen him since I joined. We talk through letters, sometimes den den mushi. But I don’t know when I’ll be able to see him again.”

Robin’s eyes soften “Do the others know?”

You shake your head “No. Just you.”

She reaches out. Her fingers brush yours, just enough to touch the vivre card “Thank you for trusting me.”

You smile, small but real “I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want you to see me differently.”

Robin hums “I already see you. Clearly.”

You blink.

She looks at you steady and kind “You carry something heavy. And still laugh with the crew. Still help cook. Still stand beside me in battle. That’s not weakness.”

Your chest aches in the best way.

She pauses, then adds, “If one day… you want to try and see him again, I’d go with you.”

Your voice catches “Really?”

She nods “Of course. I’d like to meet him. He sounds like someone I’d admire.”

You look down at the vivre card.

Still warm. Still burning.

Maybe not as far away as it feels.

It’s just past dinner.

You’re with Robin as she asked you to stay close. A soft excuse about helping her with some documents. You're both sitting on the floor, back against the wall, a soft lamp between you.

You have the vivre card on the table. You don't always keep it out, but tonight you felt the need to hold it.

You glance at the Den Den Mushi nearby.

You hesitate.

Then pick it up and dial a number you’ve had memorized since your hands first held his.

The snail blinks sleepily… then perks up.

“Hello?”

Your chest tightens at the voice.

You smile “Hey, kiddo.”

A pause, then, “IT’S YOU!!”

You laugh, caught off guard by the pure excitement.

“Oh my god—FINALLY! You didn’t forget me, right? You didn’t sail into a storm and disappear forever, right?”

Robin lifts an amused brow, watching you with quiet interest.

“I didn’t forget you,” you say softly “You know that.”

“Just making sure. I’ve been drawing so many sea monsters lately you would not believe. I made a kraken with three hats.”

You laugh again, voice cracking slightly “Three hats? He must be important.”

“Very.” He pauses, then adds, “...I missed you.”

You shut your eyes “I missed you too.”

Robin looks away respectfully, but stays close.

Then, from the snail: “Hey, wait—who’s near you? Are you with someone?”

You glance at Robin, who blinks, caught.

“She’s... a friend.” you say carefully.

Robin speaks, her voice soft “I hope I’m more than just a friend.”

The Den Den Mushi mimics a shocked face.

“...OH MY GOD. IS THIS YOUR GIRLFRIEND??”

You bury your face in your hand.

Robin chuckles lightly, graceful even when embarrassed “Hello. I’m Robin. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

There’s a long pause.

“...You sound really cool.”

Robin smiles “Thank you. So do you.”

“Wait—how much do you know about them? Like... do you know about the time they tried to cook without instructions and set the wall on fire?”

You groan “Don’t tell her that.”

“It was a microwave! The noodles caught on fire!”

Robin’s shoulders shake with laughter.

You shoot her a glare that holds no heat “I regret this entire call.”

“No you don’t.”

And he’s right. You don’t.

Not even a little.

Later, when the call ends, you sit in silence.

Robin’s hand reaches for yours “He’s amazing.”

You nod, voice soft “Yeah. He really is.”

She squeezes your hand gently “He has your spark. And your chaos.”

You smile through the ache in your chest “He’s better than I’ll ever be.”

Robin rests her head against your shoulder.

“You’ll see him again. When the time is right. And I'll be with you... if you want me.”

"Of course I do."

And somehow, with her beside you, that feels like a promise you can believe in.

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ao3commentoftheday · 1 day ago

Note

Firstly, please allow me to thank you for all that you do.

My ask is this, how do you and your followers reconcile with possibility of being trapped by your own work? I want to branch out and write originals, which i have done previously and uploaded to my blog but traffic to them was slim and i quickly realized that it’s a big ask for people to want to read a story when they come on a social app. I recently wrote a fic that i uploaded to ao3 that is within the same fandom but not related to the character i typically write for but my own ocs. I had one hit. I was overcome with the feeling that i cannot exist creatively outside of this character that i’ve been writing for for the last 3-4 years, that I’ve pigeon-holed myself and left no contingency plan for the future. I cannot do any other type of art the way i do writing, it gives me the most challenge, the most joy and the most reward. And i thought i was of the mind that i didn’t care if no one read my work, but now seeing it reflected back to me on the screen, it stings and i cannot but feel embarrassed, discouraged, disheartened and frustrated.

I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long to reply to this ask, and I'm even sorrier that you were feeling like this to begin with 💗 I hope that this was a momentary crisis and it hasn't continued, but in case it has:

You are so much more than the number of hits that you get on AO3. Your talent can't be measured by hits or kudos or comments. Your creativity isn't trapped inside a single character, and the more that you stretch yourself and grow the more you'll be able to feel like that's true.

Embarrassment and discouragement are the natural reactions when you share something you've worked on and get relative silence in response. I've felt disheartened and frustrated too in a similar situation.

From what you've written in this ask, it feels like you've lost confidence in your writing. You're worried that you can't do this thing that you love to do so much. You're looking for "proof" in the hits and other numbers - reassurance that you're a good writer. Reassurance that you can write outside of that one thing.

I've written before, and I'll never stop saying it - AO3 stats will not give you that reassurance, and if they do, it won't last long. To get the kind of reassurance and support that will help you regain your confidence in branching out, you really need someone (or multiple someones) that you can have ongoing conversations with about your writing.

Maybe it's a writer's group IRL. Maybe it's a discord server. Maybe it's your best friends in a group chat. Maybe it's your mom. Whoever it is, whoever they are, they'll have the context of knowing how nervous or uncertain you feel and they'll also know you well enough to know how you need to be supported.

I hope you've already figured this out in the intervening year since you dropped this in my inbox, and I really hope that you're still writing all of the things that you love to write.

#asks and answers

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 2 days ago

Text

Moondir - 03

Pairing | moondir!OT7 x human!Reader

Word Count | 6,3K

Warnings | +18, coercion, power dynamics, blood, torture, noncon touching, talks about future sex, hatred, one of the characters suffers from selective post-traumatic mutism, Yoongi and MC clearly have unresolved issues 💀, Jimin is a 100% asshole, discomfort and discussions about smell, Namjoon enjoys humiliating MC, Taehyung is in heat (not kidding) this is not for minors.

This fanfiction is dark and yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | The Moondir, born of the Moon Goddess' love for a wolf, were persecuted and enslaved by humans for merely existing. Moondirian women have been captured and killed in the most heinous ways, men have instead been forced to do dangerous work in place of the humans themselves, and after more than a century, this has virtually brought their race to the brink of extinction. A group of Moondirian rebels have succeeded in their quest to regain their freedom, and not without the use of the crudest violence. Their females are now gone, and it will be human women who will help them repopulate the world.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! ❤️

I apologize for the delay, it's been a really terrible few days and a member of my family has been very sick, anxiety and stress didn't allow me to finish the chapter sooner 🥺😭 Now things are going well and I've found some peace of mind, I really hope you enjoy the chapter and I apologize if you find any mistakes! ❤️ Let me know what you think! I love reading your comments! Thank you so much for your patience and support, I love you 🥰

Taglist is open: @katherine-kookie - @btsuga-d - @pantara - @angelicsmilesworld - @lennieharper - @takemeaway5402 - @jiminismine4ever - @m00njinnie - @ke1k029 - @velvet-stardust2002 - @darkuni63 - @douknowbts - @aiiselle90210 - @fewercascade - @mageprincess7 - @get-that-brain-working - @whipwhoops - @dragons-flare - @seokjins-luigi - @pjmsneverland - @jimincrystal - @ajkwww - @ungodlyjoon - @hecateslittlewitchling - @namjoonsbuspass - @xicanacorpse - @btssimplove - @antisocial-mochi267 - @reallygenerouskoala - @dabishou - @themwordsblog - @deluluisme - @justanarchiveforfics - @blackberrywonie - @the-holy-hobi - @justlikecrazy - @herareila - @furioustrashlover - @mar-lo-pap - @dachshunddame - @pantaral81 - @withmuchluv-tannie - @calmyourtitts7 - @plushjeno - @rafesbunniebby - @rms-expensive-girl - @polnaraffsrack - @rg2108 - @paramedicnerd004 - @jungshaking - @ane102 - @moonstarw - @teardoong - @butterymin

Main List - 01 - 02 - 03

“Hoseok told me something interesting, little flower,” Taehyung whispers in your ear, his voice low and rough. The wolf scents of cinnamon and burnt wood, an aroma that confuses you, knocking you out between your broken breaths. “Seokjin seems to have been far too kind to you during your examination” he adds in an insinuating tone, clutching you with one arm as he moves slowly, possessively, between your thighs with his free hand, “What does that mean?”

“Stay away from me, please,” you sob, chasing that hand away; you've already been kissed in a vile way, you can't stand even such a thing.

Hoseok nonchalantly sits in an armchair, following the scene with eyes glittering with interest. Taehyung touches your cheek with his tongue, it's slow and warm, picking up a tear you didn't even know you shed. You stiffen, your lips stretched into a hard line.

“You're so good, I'm almost sorry I scared you so much,” he smiles with a wry tinge in his amber eyes. His lips brush the angle of yours, leaving you with a kiss that tastes more like dirty promises than an apology.

You narrow your eyes, trying to ignore his towering figure holding you captive against him. “You're definitely better than that,” you hiss through clenched teeth. "I'm not going to rebel... I know the only alternative would be to die. But please ... not like this."

It is a gamble to try to reason with him, Taehyung is a beast at its peak, and now that you can think more clearly, you realize that the wolf's body is also shaking, but less noticeably than yours.

He is excited, perhaps from the hunt from which he has just returned. Perhaps because he has not yet had a chance to get rid of the adrenaline burning under his skin. And now... he's trying to dump it on you.

“Why do you persist so much, little flower?” whispers Hoseok in a caressing voice, tilting his head as if genuinely curious. “It's going to happen anyway... why fight anymore?”

Why?

Because you are not ready. Because you are human. Because you have dignity. Because you don't want to break completely.

“Come closer, girl,” he orders, patting his thigh, leaving you speechless.

As if he received the order from his superior, Taehyung lets you go. And maybe it really is an order. Of hierarchy.

“Don't make me say it again,” he warns you, and instinctively you take steps in his direction, "Like this. Good."

You drop onto his legs; he grips your waist with a possessive arm, his touch firm yet charged with a warmth that makes you lose your breath.

“Now, tell me why we shouldn't touch you like this-” his long, light fingers caress your waist in small circles, slowly rising to the round lines of your breasts. You want to scream, but his touch confuses you, destabilizes you.

And you don't know how to respond.

“You...” Hoseok's thumb grazes your lower lip, the words stuck in your throat.

"Tell me. Taehyung and I are listening," at his words you turn to the other wolf, he clutches the back of the sofa tightly, his jaw is contracted and his pupils dilated. What the hell...?

Broken, high-pitched, howl-like moans and stench of dry, ferrous blood.

Seokjin wipes his hands before putting on gloves. The room is almost completely dark, to unnerv the prisoner, but he can comfortably see the workings of his teammates.

Namjoon is finishing wiping on his own jacket the long sharp blade he used to chop off one by one the fingers of the man, who is trembling in shock from his torture. He is bound hand and foot to a chair, his dark, wispy eyes darting from one side of the room to the other, trying to figure out who will be next to make him discover new ways to learn about hell alive.

Namjoon's eyes, blue as a night sky, seem dull and apathetic, but only an hour earlier they looked dreamy as he carved his own initials into the man's forehead, letting a cascade of blood blind him.

“So you're not helping us, Jackie,” complained another - Yoongi - lowering himself to the prisoner's height, "Why are you willing to suffer like this? Hand over the rest of your comrades and I promise to give you a quick death, I might even secure a proper burial for you," he tries to persuade him in a mock sorry tone, but the man categorically shakes his head, before spitting a stream of saliva and blood onto the ground, not far from Yoongi's shiny boots.

The wolf's eyes twinkle with amusement as he observes the result of the gesture, "Hmm. A few days ago another person also spit on me... but she was prettier than you,” he chuckles, then without changing his expression, Yoongi sinks a fist into the man's stomach, who doubles over panting, saliva dripping from his lips, “There, that's how you should salivate."

Seokjin wrinkles his nose slightly, finding that human's swollen face disgusting; he wouldn't even want to touch him to tell the truth.

“He won't talk, Yoongi,” announces a more fluty voice, "At least not for today, let Seokjin nurse him a bit and leave him with his final thoughts. I'm sure Jackie is just as tired as we are."

Jimin keeps his hands in his pockets, in a completely relaxed pose, but his stiff shoulders say more than that. He's just trying to maintain control; he doesn't want to kill another vile human being before he's even obtained valuable information. He has already killed far too many — and he did it mercifully

“I have... begged... the h-high officials to kill you... all,” spits the man with difficulty, “You a-are unclean beasts,” he hisses with blood between his now broken teeth, “From. me. you. will. know. nothing,” he concludes with hatred.

Yoongi watches the man with a distant, bored look, “So... we have nothing more to say to each other, I guess.”

“Yoongi, wait-” interjects Seokjin, irritated. It would be insane to kill the man after hours spent questioning him. Just the idea of having wasted that time sends him out of his mind, but he doesn't have time to say anything else.

A figure moves in the shadows, silent as the night, yet clearly visible.

Then a bubbling sound breaks the air.

The prisoner's throat opens in a sharp, clean cut, as if it were butter.

Jungkook's lilac eyes shine in the half-light. He does not speak. Anger pulses in his tendons, in his hand clenched around the still bloodstained dagger. The prisoner stares at him in shock, but his hands are tied and he cannot see his own end.

Some splashes have stained Yoongi's jacket. He does nothing to clean himself.

"Too late, Jin. Jungkook got tired, too."

“Why do you always have to get in the way, 'Kook?” asks Namjoon with an arched eyebrow. The younger boy replies with a shrug.

“Forget it, he wasn't going to talk anyway” Yoongi stands up, putting his leather gloves back on, Seokjin can swear he sees one of the guards posted at the entrance lift his eyes to the sky, before returning to stare blankly, waiting for more orders.

With a grin he shakes his head, Yoongi is far too permissive with Jungkook and this causes jealousies among the ranks.

“Let's go back to our base,” then Jimin turns to those guards, “Get rid of the body, you can do what you want with it... although I advise against eating it, it may have been poisoned before we found it.”

“If so, then he did a bad job with the doses, considering he's been alive far too long as well,” snorts Namjoon, loading a shotgun on his back that he never part with.

Seokjin begins to retrieve his medical equipment, irritated with his teammates.

"Medicines, bandages... for what? Nothing ever changes," he snorts. "You already know they won't talk anyway. And you already know you will kill them. It's just a waste of time. And of patience. We could almost make it a standard protocol," he concludes sarcastically, making Namjoon chuckle.

“I thought you were happy to practice what you've learned over the years,” he taunts him, causing him to irritate.

"I just wish you could keep your nerve for once, being led by hatred will not help us find all these rats hiding. And Jungkook, I'm talking to you too," he blurts out to the younger man, who rolls his eyes without making a sound, which sends a painful twinge to his chest.

Jungkook is the result of what each of them has experienced in a hundred years.

“Enough discussion, we have more to think about now,” sneers Namjoon, “Or have you all forgotten?”

Yoongi, who up to that moment had been smiling wryly, suddenly loses all expression. A stony silence falls over those present.

Seokjin takes a good look at them, biting his lower lip, “Shit.”

They are unpresentable.

They look like they've just stepped out of a horror movie, amid splashes of blood on their faces and uniforms soaked with sweat and dirt. The chase was particularly bloody; Jackie was simply the last name on an endless list. That's why Seokjin feels so irritated and tired.

“We should clean up and change uniforms, I'm going to-”

“No bullshit,” Yoongi interrupts him, cutting him off. “We'll clean up at home, I have nothing to hide.” He nods to the guards: it's time to move toward the vans.

“I'm tired, I don't feel like making myself look good for a cheap whore,” Jimin blurts out, pulling back a strand of tousled hair before leaving the torture room first, in the building that used to belong to the mayor.

They take different vans, Jimin catches up with Namjoon and Jungkook, who pretend to look out the windows, but their ears are strained, on the other hand, Seokjin is fuming with anger.

He reaches Yoongi in the back seat of the other military van and crosses his legs, crossing his arms like a parent disapproving of a child's choices, "Jimin has to move on. And so do you."

"Are you my psychologist? I'm done with that shit, and Jimin is just fine. You've seen how he works, right? At least those human bastards didn’t turn him into a wimp with all those drugs they were pumping into him," he growls at him.

"I understand you, Yoongi. I know what you've been through, because I've been there myself, but that girl is our only chance for a better future."

“Why her?” he growls, “Why did you choose her?”

Seokjin looks at him in amazement, "Do you think I did that? Yoongi, I have no decision-making power, it's blood that determines matches. Your blood chose her,” he retorts curtly, “You always told me about her father and brother, but never about her... so why do you dislike her so much? She doesn't seem like a bad person."

Yoongi begins to chuckle in response, adjusting his jacket on his chest, “Have you fallen into the trap yet, man?” he teases him, “Don't give her too much rope, that's a poisonous viper.”

“Stop it!” you explode, trying to regain control, "I'm not going to do anything until the doctor gets here! Dr. Oliver said everything will have to be checked before you can do whatever you like."

You finally find an opening to free yourself: you get up from Hoseok almost tripping over your own feet.

Meanwhile, Taehyung has slowly slipped off his jacket, revealing his dirt-stained uniform and... more. Something you refuse to give a name to.

He drops onto the sofa like a dead weight, closing his eyes with a contracted expression.

“Damn... this stuff is stronger than I thought,” he groans against his bent arm, his voice muffled, labored.

Hoseok clenches his jaw, “Then I suggest you go to sleep, joking is one thing, losing control is something else entirely,” he rebukes him, leaving you confused.

Had it all been a game to them so far?

Pieces of shit.

But you don't dare say those words out loud.

The atmosphere is strange, you still have in mind the intense look Taehyung gave you a few moments earlier, it seemed quite animalistic.

“She has no idea what’s going on, does she?” he murmurs, looking sicker.

“Of course not, you've seen for yourself how incapable she is of satisfying a man, she's not that kind,” Hoseok replies in an insinuating tone.

Taehyung lets his gaze slide over you, slow and intrusive.

“She's almost cute, though,” he smiles and your heart does a strange thing, like a somersault that embarrasses you and makes you blush.

“Say that when you find her whimpering on the bed” Hoseok rolls his eyes, at which you flare up.

“You certainly seem to know me,” you reply, almost blowing. Your wry reply draws Taehyung's attention.

“Now who made her angry?”

“I'm not angry” you nip Hoseok's rebuke in the bud, staring him straight in the eye without fear, "I won't cry, I know I'm lucky. Because I can still breathe and talk, don't treat me like a spoiled child, I'm not!"

"You say you're not, but you don't seem to have changed much. You really are a spoiled child."

At the exact instant those words cut through the air, time freezes. Even Hoseok and Taehyung appear surprised.

Suddenly the living room seems to shrink around you. No. It is not possible, he cannot be here.

“I can smell her fear, Celestial Goddess, Yoongi--what did you do to her to make her like this,” laughs another voice, deeper.

It is with fear blocking your throat that you turn your gaze in his direction.

Yoongi is staring at you with a glassy gaze, he might start cutting you down little by little, and he won't lose that composed, relaxed air of his, despite his creased and dirty clothes, perhaps even more than Taehyung's clothes.

Yoongi also returned from a hunt, but his seems to have ended in a more satisfying way. Still, he is not necessarily finished.

Behind him a group of men seem to be just waiting for his order so they can play with you; you recognize two of them. Jimin and Seokjin.

You are not amazed at the man with amber eyes filled with contempt, you realize he is actively working alongside his captain, but Seokjin?

Is he the doctor who is in charge of keeping the prisoners alive so he can calmly interrogate them? Will he also participate in their repopulation project, using you?

He immediately turns his blue eyes away from yours when he notices the wounded light you direct at him.

You don't even know why you are so disappointed in him, you two talked only once and he touched you against your will, but you thought maybe he was different. A little better than his fellow members of... what? Pack?

Next to him you also study the other two wolves, you have never seen them in your life, they are simply terrifyingly beautiful.

The guy with the dark blue eyes is the size of a closet. His black hair - still damp - falls back, uncovering his forehead, and that leaves you with a chance to clearly read the hungry look he is giving you. He scrutinizes you from head to toe and his full lips are bent in a ravenous, smug smile. He looks at you as if you were the hottest thing to ever appear in a room -- but with the same respect that you reserve for a fancy whore. And no, it's not pleasant.

The other has a wilder, almost unkempt look. His brown hair falls over his eyes, a barely concealed lilac glow catches you off guard. Are those really lilac eyes? You stare at him dumbly, and it seems to agitate him in a negative way; he bares his teeth and growls at you, a sound that gets under your skin and causes you to take an instinctive step back. Once again it is Hoseok who holds you still, communicating with his gaze to stay where you are. Then you remember Seokjin's warning: Don't run.

“You have a strange memory of me, captain,” you force yourself to respond somehow, hating the quiver in your voice.

Yoongi's grin deepens, interested.

"Is that what you call me now? You flatter me, Y/N” he tosses his coat to the floor, revealing blood soiling the sleeves of his uniform, and his gloves go the same way, "You used to just call me ‘boy’ " he follows Hoseok's example and pours liquor into a crystal glass, Jimin and Namjoon do the same, and soon the living room is filled with deep voices and the pungent smell of cigars.

Seokjin stows his jacket on a coat rack, turning his nose up at the villanous attitude of his companions, then nods at you, silently asking you to sit in the unoccupied chair. That simple gesture brings you back down to earth, but the tension gripping your throat does not ease.

You move with concern, noticing the two strangers approaching Taehyung, who seems to have taken on a rather bright pink complexion. He seems to be fighting something.

“Maybe you really should go to bed,” offers Hoseok once again, “You look like you're about to give in,” more like a disguised order than advice.

You see Taehyung shake his head firmly, “I want to be there when you decide what to do” his voice is hoarse, fiery. “She is also mine, remember?”

You almost shudder as you moan, but as you sit down on the padded material, Seokjin kneels at your side, taking your wrist between his long fingers. He wants to measure your pulse probably, afraid you will faint at any moment?

"She is no one's. She is only a means to the cause,” Jimin blurts out, his voice as sharp as a blade, “When she finishes what she was chosen for, we won't need her anymore."

His eyes nail you, rabid, as if every word were a verdict already written.

“I wouldn't mind keeping her,” the dark blue-eyed wolf speaks for the first time, revealing an extraordinary deep tone of voice, “It would be a waste to limit yourself to two or three children.”

Jimin looks like he could strike him down in an instant. "Are you really the one saying that? You, who should understand me better than anyone, Namjoon?"

Namjoon. That's what his name is. Now you have a face, a name, and one more enemy.

“Don't get me wrong, Jimin...” he retorts, his tone more serious but far from regretful, "I haven't forgotten who we are. Nor what they have done to us and what we have irretrievably lost. I'm just saying that to throw it away too soon... that would be a waste. They kept us in chains for a whole century. The least would be to return the favor... to the last drop of their lives."

Your stomach contracts.

Your heart sinks into the abyss.

You are at the mercy of seven men who, looking at you, see only the years of imprisonment they have spent.

The only one who has not yet exposed himself with a disgusting and cruel speech is the lilac-eyed wolf; he stands apathetically by Yoongi's side. He doesn't smoke, he doesn't drink, he doesn't talk. He has also lost the spark of anger that you had aroused in him a few moments ago; he looks every bit like a soulless rag doll.

“Would you be so kind as to report all this directly to me?” Seokjin jerks his head up toward you, surprised and startled by your courage.

“How?” asks Hoseok, stinging.

"You heard me. I think I have the right to be considered at least a little by you. It's my body, my womb," something in your words makes Namjoon chuckle in response.

"Haven't you figured that out yet? You no longer have any rights, we are in charge now."

You cast a glance at Seokjin, who reciprocates with an impassive face. He doesn't say it, but he clearly agrees with Namjoon. In this new world, even those who show you some kindness will always think of you as less than nothing. You found this out with Dr. Oliver and now with Seokjin as well.

“So don't go around it anymore, what will happen from now on?” you ask without second thoughts. If you have to comply with their every request in order to survive, so be it.

“Don't you want to fight?” the annoyed tone of Yoongi surprises you a little, does he want you to fight?

Of course. To punish you.

“Would it do any good?” you retort with a sad smile. The captain, in response, casually goes back to drinking, deciding that ignoring you is probably best for everyone. He dismisses you with a look as if you were an annoying detail.

It's going to be a long night.

“You're in your most fertile period, your scent is very strong and affects us, Taehyung is the clearest proof,” Seokjin interrupts the staring contest you and the cold captain put on. An animalistic grunt makes you wince.

"I'm fine. It's bearable," Taehyung swallows,

“Don't bullshit, the room pretty much just smells like her.”

That sentence does not please you at all, "Do you have to be so explicit? It's disgusting," you retort, feeling ashamed just imagining what kind of smell you give off, to be so strong to their noses.

Jimin clicks his teeth in your direction, “It's our nature, show respect.”

"I say we start with the ‘meeting’ so everyone can go to bed and rest. We are all tired here," Hoseok announces, sensing the tension in the air and wrinkling his nose at the unpleasant and far from pleasant smell inside the room. It is animalistic and asphyxiating, acrid like sweat, something forcibly restrained, unlike your own which is simply sublime and is driving him crazy.

You smell of a moonlit night, of breeze brushing the wildflowers and carrying their sweet scent, you smell of freedom and this is undeniable, even to Jimin himself who is forcibly restraining himself from jumping on you.

Hoseok's green eyes shift to Yoongi, his captain appears icy and impassive, but he too is pawing beneath the surface. They haven't been with a woman for a long time, and certainly not by their own choice. To them you're a fucking feast.

Seokjin leaves your side to take a seat next to Taehyung, seeming to want to make sure the other doesn't suddenly go crazy, the empty feeling you feel is uncomfortable, making you uneasy. You feel somehow abandoned.

"Tonight you will just rest, but starting tomorrow our procreation program will begin. To make sure you get pregnant as soon as possible, you will sleep every night with at least one of us. Every morning I will check your health status and your vitals, it will only take me a moment to figure out whether or not you have become pregnant," he explains with his gaze over your shoulder, he is simply pretending to look at you. Something prevents him from meeting your eyes, perhaps something called “pity.”

“So we have to decide our turns, hyung,” nods Namjoon with crossed arms, receiving a nod of assent from the other.

“That's right, but we have to do it according to her needs for the time being,” Seokjin points to you, causing Yoongi to arch an eyebrow.

“What's that supposed to mean?” he asks almost annoyed, “It's our needs that you should put first.”

“And that would be so, in a normal situation,” the doctor takes him back in a harsh voice, “But the human is a virgin and I'm not going to force her to have her first sexual intercourse with someone who terrifies the hell out of her, that would be cruel and counterproductive.”

Embarrassment stains you red from head to toe, you didn't expect Seokjin to shout to the four winds what he found out during the first exam, but this seems to ignite the newcomers with interest.

“What a surprise,” Yoongi sneers wryly, “I thought you finally succumbed to the baker's advances.”

His words wound you. They are a blade that lacerates your heart with impressive ease. That comment comes out of his lips too harsh, too accusatory, and you want to cry, because he knows what really happened and should never have thought of such a thing.

“You yourself know that I have too much pride to give in to the wishes of a man like Evan, but you've probably forgotten,” you reply bitterly, hinting to others that you and Yoongi in the past had more than a master-servant relationship. And you did. There was much more respect between you two than he wants to admit now.

The captain grits his teeth menacingly.

“Be careful how you talk, you insolent little one,” he hisses with a calmness that reeks of malice, “It wouldn't take you long to end up on your knees, polishing my boots with your tongue while one of my brothers takes what he wants from that insulting body of yours.”

“You don't scare me Min Yoongi,” you smile joylessly, “I've seen my family die, nothing impresses me anymore.”

You are clearly lying, but he does not need to know that. It is rather pleasant to see that always mocking face turn granite.

“So that's it, I don't scare you,” he nods apologetically, “Then you won't mind bending over whenever I need to get my dick a little wet,” you stiffen, humiliated and shocked by the ease with which he utters those words, and it is Seokjin who puts a stop to it.

“We're not here to have as much fun as we like, captain,” he announces coldly, “The human will be treated well for easier and faster conception.”

Namjoon snorts in response, “Yeah, yeah... you and your bullshit about a peaceful and healthy environment that will benefit her fertility and other such bullshit.”

“It’s a headache,” moans Taehyung, panting slightly, running a hand through his hair, awkwardly mussing it. Drops of sweat bead his forehead, making him ominously attractive. Like a wolf panting hungrily before his next meal. Averting his eyes before he can meet yours, you wrap your arms around your body and curl up in the chair.

“Each of us will have to spend at least one day a week with her, based also on our schedules clearly,” the doctor continues, “And also based on character aspects to be kept under control,” you see the wolf cast a brief glance at the lilac-eyed boy, who merely grunts, leaving you quite confused. He doesn't seem the least bit interested in you. You hope this is a sign; perhaps you will avoid spending time with that particular wolf, saving you at least some of the misery of sharing your body with strangers.

Finally, Seokjin addresses you directly, "I know how upsetting it all still may seem to you, but you have no other options. I advise you to choose who will be first.”

“It will be an honor,” you reply with a hint of venom and irony in your voice, and you are not surprised to see Jimin instantly stiffen.

"If the idea disgusts you so much, why don't you get yourself disemboweled? Let's get it over with here and now," he growls, not even trying to restrain himself.

For some reason, his outburst pulls a crooked smile from you.

“Or maybe you're the one who's disgusted by me,” you retort calmly, staring at him.

And that's when an idea flashes through your mind. A crazy, twisted and probably self-destructive decision.

You had thought about choosing Seokjin: he was the kindest, the most cautious. But for that very reason... he would be precise, meticulous. He would complete his task and you would probably remember him forever.

No. Better someone who hates you.

A wolf who won't even be able to touch you without vomiting his soul. If he feels disgust enough to back off, he'll be perfect. And even if he manages to go through with it in the end, it will still be such a harrowing experience to forget.

He will be your nightmare, but you will be his.

Sure, you want to survive, but enjoy the touch of a Moondirian?

No. That would be so humiliating that you would wish for death. They may get your body, but not your mind, much less your heart.

“Y/N?” the voice of Seokjin interrupts your silence, you can catch a veil of concern in his tone.

“I’ve decided,” you say, letting your gaze rest on Jimin’s amber eyes. “You’ll be the first.”

Your decision seems to shock everyone present, Taehyung's eyes are so wide that he finally bursts into laughter — a sound closer to a howl — while Seokjin shakes his head slightly, as if to disapprove of what you have just said.

But it is Yoongi's somber expression that makes you tremble slightly; the captain leaves his seat silently, passes his glass to the lilac-eyed boy, and leaves the room without a word, while Jimin almost seems to be foaming with anger.

“Bitch” is all he manages to snarl, before he strides past you with heavy footsteps, leaving a trail of light scent behind him, orange blossom and amber.

“Are you sure?” the voice of Hoseok sounds hoarse, as if moved by a subtle anger that he refuses to show.

“It's a duty, not a pleasure,” you reply harshly, not at all regretting that you just scored your first time.

“The fact that he hates you won't stop Jimin, he'll take what he has to take and he'll do it regardless,” Namjoon warns you with a strange seriousness. After all, he was the one who called you an object in the first place, “He is going through a delicate moment and his wolf isn't well.”

His wolf?

“I'll survive,” you smile without happiness, “That's all that matters to me.”

The room to which Seokjin took you immediately afterwards is dark and cold. It lacks an abat-jour and even a candle to be able to light the bare room, but you certainly cannot complain after the corpses you saw scattered throughout the houses in the neighborhood where you lived. Humans had used fairy magic to keep some of their settlements hidden, but all it took was for one person to know the location on the map to render all efforts in vain. You don't even know why Yoongi didn't raze everything right away; perhaps he had simply taken his time to make you and your family tremble with fear.

Yoongi.

That look before he left the living room still gives you chills when you think back on it. You didn't really mean to incur his wrath, but you felt like a cockroach in front of him and reacted by provoking him as a defense and using Jimin as a resource, probably one of the fiercest wolves in the house.

One who would not think twice about opening your throat from side to side.

You've ruined yourself with your own hands, even Seokjin and Hoseok seemed irritated by your stupid decision, but there's no turning back now.

You tighten the blankets on yourself, moaning a little at the cold, your eyes now accustomed to the absence of light scanning the room shrouded in silence, unable to rest. A grip of anxiety squeezes your chest, stirring your poor, already battered heart, a bad feeling rages against your body, trying to rebel against the new plan that is now your life.

You could escape now.

The window isn’t sealed, and with all the blankets and sheets in the room, you could make a rope long enough to climb down.

You grit your teeth, shaking your head. Even if you made it over that first hurdle, it wouldn't take long for the wolves of Moondir to track you down and - in all probability - punish you. You let go a deep breath filled with frustration.

“What are you thinking so hard about, baby doll?”

Before you can scream, a hand presses against your lips contracted in surprise, as a wave of cinnamon and burnt wood hits you, leaving you breathless. A hot body in the prime of its masculinity trembles on you, the man sighs against your ear, and you finally recognize him. Taehyung.

His heated skin dampens the sweater you found inside the closet and decided to use for sleeping, but he has lost the sour smell of sweat and blood. Suddenly you no longer feel cold with your back resting against his bare chest, but agitation makes your temples throb.

“Promise not to scream, and I'll leave you free to talk,” he whispers, brushing the line of your neck with the tip of his nose. You squint, a slight moisture wetting your eyelashes as you nod.

When the weight of his hand lifts you exhale, flustered.

“You can't be here,” you warn him, aiming your wide-open eyes at the closed door. When and how did he enter? Seokjin locked that door to keep you from leaving... and maybe even to keep them from entering.

“I can't stay away from you,” he moans against your neck, his arms tightened around your legs, holding you tighter to his incandescent body. It makes you feel tiny, helpless, “It's all fucking fire, and your scent only makes it worse,” he confesses with his lips now pressed against your shoulder, a strange sensation pooling in the center of your chest.

“Have you tried... a cool shower?” you stammer, panic-stricken.

Shit. What the fuck are you thinking of telling him!

His low, rough laugh immobilizes you.

“I've done three, baby doll,” he forces you to turn away, holding your chin between forefinger and thumb. “But it only gets better when I can touch you,” he hisses, his half-closed amber eyes shining brightly in the dark with an almost frightening intensity.

“You have a fever,” you murmur as you slowly lift a hand, your fingers brushing his sweat-soaked forehead. His hair drips to his temples, and even without a crisp light, you know his face is flushed. But this is no ordinary fever: he is delirious.

“I've had it ever since the wolf smelled you in the house,” he laughs softly, brushing your neck with his nose, almost obsessed with that spot.

“The... wolf?” you ask, trying to keep your wits about you as he comes dangerously close. You need to distract him, and talking seems the only way.

“Mh-mh,” he murmurs, hugging you tightly, sinking his face between your breasts. He vibrates as if purring, making you blush to your ears. “He likes you, baby doll -- and I like you, too.”

You swallow, gritting your teeth.

"You should have Seokjin examine you. He would know how to help you," you suggest, trying to shake him gently, without provoking him. But your suggestion makes him stiffen.

“I don't want to,” he hisses hoarsely, lifting his gaze to you again, “I don't want those fucking suppressors,” and something tells you he wants you.

You squint, you have to play your cards right if you want to survive. Getting fucked by a wolf in heat and probably out of control doesn't seem to be a good thing, but he certainly won't leave without getting something first.

“You're in heat, am I right?” you ask him bluntly, causing him to grunt in assent, “Humans like me don't go into heat, I don't even know how it works for you” you explain calmly, “So I can't really help you that way.”

"Especially since you chose to give yourself to Jimin, am I right?” he snaps venomously into your ear, “I hope you know what you’re doing” his fingers slide down your back as if trying to find a spot to let go, but they stop halfway, hesitating. The way he's trying to hold back is really admirable.

“I'd still like to help you,” you reply, deciding to ignore his last insinuations, “Just tell me how.”

“You don't understand... it's a need to bite and brand while-”

A quiver shakes his heated body as a stifled yelp escapes his lips, now pressed against your chest in a desperate attempt at self-control. His body heat is pleasant and wrong; you should not rejoice in it.

“Give me your wrist,” he growls, his voice low and strained like a rope about to snap, “And don't move for any reason, if you do I won't be limited to just that anymore,” the warning in his tone petrifies you, but you do as he says.

He presses his thumb against the thin skin of your wrist, listens as if hypnotized to every reverberation of your frantic pulse, and leaves a kiss on it. It is slow and hot, and against your will a pleasant tingle builds up in your lower abdomen, you try to chase that feeling away, but the sensation of his teeth sinking into your skin just enough to leave a mark makes you moan slightly, undecided whether to find it pleasurable or annoying.

Taehyung moves against your body, licking away a few drops of your blood. He concentrates with the tip of his tongue on the tiny little holes his fangs have left, before reaching out toward you with a new hunger etched into his savage features. The charcoal that circles his eyes darkens his already dangerous gaze, leaving you breathless.

“I can't wait to catch you, baby doll,” he sighs on your lips, the fever does not seem to have gone away but there is a new awareness that seems to have calmed his wolf, “You have been very good to me, I promise I will be generous,” he whispers, kissing the angle of your mouth softly, before retreating.

“Good night,” he wishes you, leaving you shocked.

What the hell just happened? Now that the cold has returned to the room, you finally realize that you have been at the mercy of a wolf for indefinite moments.

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destinysbounty · 2 days ago

Text

I think I wouldn't mind Zane's NPC-ification quite as much as I do, if it didn't feel like they were also retconning the fact that he was ever a person to begin with.

Like, sure, I totally understand. Dragons Rising has a huge ensemble cast, and the RGB trio + new ninja are the clear focus. And I don't mind that! Everyone who does get proper narrative attention is written so wonderfully and I adore what we have. But...sometimes it feels like they're just kinda divvying up everything that makes Zane who he is and giving it to everyone else, and never even briefly acknowledging Zane's ties to those traits.

Remember when Zane used to have prophetic dreams foretelling future events? Me neither. Hey Lloyd, how are your visions coming along?

Or, y'know how one of Zane's most integral plot lines, character details, and motifs is his struggles with memory and identity? Remember that time he got amnesia and was then both manipulated and magically corrupted into being a villain? Nah that never happened, anyway check out what Jay is up to now

Or, does anyone recall how Zane is a canonically really good cook with pies so delicious they made Jay cry on screen? No that's Arin's thing, actually

Heck, we even have our quota of ~Silly Robot Beep Boop Bop~ jokes fulfilled by Lobbo!

Don't get me wrong, I'm not hating on any of the other characters for having these traits. Nor am I arguing that Zane should have a singular monopoly on these types of storylines. But when they take traits that have for so long been primarily associated with Zane, like cooking and visions and amnesia, and share them with someone else without even briefly acknowledging Zane's prior involvement...idk. It just feels like they're trying to repackage all the things that make Zane interesting while still writing him out of the narrative. It feels like they're going "whaat? Zane, have personality outside of being a generic robot character?? That never happened!" Like they're just trying to have their nindroid and kill him too.

And I mean, to some extent I can understand their hesitation. It's the same reason the Mr. E/Echo reveal got scrapped in s8 - theres just way too much going on right now, and the narrative load required to explain somwthing this complicated during a reboot/sequel would just bog down an already very complicated story. Zane has a very convoluted backstory that, for new fans dropping in to the sequel series for the first time, may be difficult to explain. How do you recap Zane's history with amnesia in a neat an tidy way for the next gen story, when there's already so much going on?

Like i said, i get that. But they could at least make, like, brief blink-and-youll-miss-it allusions, yknow? Like how they played the Ice Emperor theme during Zane's existential crisis during drs1, or when Zane told Zanth not to follow dancing birds in drs3. Tasteful, subtle, doesn't require much insider knowledge and newer fans could easily interpret it as a noodle incident comment without losing out on their comprehension.

Maybe after Jay gets eliminated from the Tournament, Zane offers to go after him saying, "I've lost myself once or twice before. If anyone understands what he's going through, it's me." And if you want to preserve the plot unobstructed, maybe you can have it so that either Zane fails to get through to Jay or Jay is gone without a trace before he can get to him. Maybe there's a brief scene of Zane making a pie to try and cheer Sora up, but she can't eat it because it reminds her too much of Arin. Or maybe Lloyd has a panic attack over his visions and Zane is the one to offer him the advice about not fighting the vision and letting it come naturally.

Don't you see how easy that is? You would change literally nothing about the story at large, and you're not detracting from the main plotlines or character arcs that are quite validly dominating this series. But you're also throwing a bone to the people who actually like Zane. Like???? I'm not even asking for much here, man :/

Idk. Maybe I'm just bitter and need to touch grass, who's to say

#ninjago #destiny post

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greglunvik · 3 days ago

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Drama In The Family: A Legacy Challenge

So...@hauntedtrait and I created a legacy challenge! This was in the works for a year & now its FINALLY here. We wanted to play through a legacy that has some sort of drama involved because...who doesn't like to torment their sims with some drama!? We've tried to incorporate relationship, friendship & family drama into this challenge. There are currently 7 gens to play through and maybe in the future we'll add more gens.

here is the google doc with the full guide. Use the tag #DITFlegacy if you plan on playing! Would love to see everyones gameplay!

Under the cut is the first gen of the legacy, but you can check everything out fully in the link above~

Guidelines

This challenge was created with all packs and some mods in mind to enhance gameplay, but do not let that stop you, adapt as needed.

Wanna cheat the game, feel free to cheat, who are we to stop you! (That said you miiight have more fun if you don’t — unless you absolutely need to)

Reaching career level 10 is not required unless specified.

Each gen starts at the young adult life stage.

Suggestions

Medium and long lifespans will offer more time and opportunities to fully experience all aspects of this legacy challenge, but if you prefer to play on short you are more than welcome to.

Utilize gameplay from L&D and Growing Together if you have them to give each generation more depth, like Wills, Bucket List, Heirlooms and Keepsake boxes.

Generation One: White Picket Fence

Career: Any

Aspirations: Any

Traits (Pick 2-3): Hates Children, Self-Absorbed, Romantically Reserved (or Unflirty if you do not have the Lovestruck pack), Non-Committal, Lazy.

Skills (Pick 3 or more): Charisma, Logic, Writing, Knitting, Pottery,

Goals

Start in a small apartment or still living with your family. Cheat or use SNB bank mod to give your sim 2000 simoleons or less.

Work odd jobs or part time until you get pregnant/get someone pregnant from a one night stand or short relationship.

Shotgun wedding! Marry the first sim you get pregnant with during the pregnancy. Bonus points: your spouse must have a conflicting trait with one or more of yours.

Once married, move into a fixer upper home and renovate as family funds grow, doing the nursery first of course.

Start your career, you can’t keep up a family of three and a house on gig work after all.

At some point, have an affair with a coworker.

Situations

College Cram: Finals are almost here and… you’re not prepared at all. Truth is, you’re beyond stressed and unsure if you’re cut out for this kind of thing.

The Affair: You’ve been seeing your coworker for some time now… and your spouse finds out.

Extras/Optional

Live and bicker with a roommate while living in the apartment.

Despite what the description implies, you don’t HAVE to go to uni and work at the same time.

Also feel free to cheat for university if you’re not a fan of that kind of gameplay.

Your spouse must have a conflicting trait with one or more of yours.

Your coworker must have great compatibility with you.

Make your sims parents and siblings, if they’re still alive!

Have more than one kid, maybe even one with your lover?

#sims legacy challenge #sims 4 legacy challenge #ts4 legacy challenge #sims 4 legacy

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trinity15 · 2 days ago

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INTO THE SPIDERVERSE

Spiderman! Andrea Kimi Antonelli x fem! reader word cound: 4k summary: Because of a machine invented by a scientist Kimi is sent to another universe that forces him to relive his greatest trauma and…drive fast? Italian! Reader (Not really but she lives in Bologna). Same title as the movie but is not the same story, is just that i dont have any imagination for titles. I've made some changes in the F1 calendar for the story to make sense. I'm sorry if something doesn't make sense, i was too lazy so i wrote it in my native language and later translate it with the translator (I checked it a couple of times to see if something did not make sense but still).

masterlist

25th of August, 2024. Bologna.

No.

No, no, no, no.

Today should have been one of the best days of his life. Y/n had planned everything to make Kimi's birthday memorable, but a turn of events would make it horribly memorable. So much so, that just remembering the date would make his heart compress with grief and sadness.

The explosion had dragged him several meters away from where he was before, face to face with the green goblin, and had knocked him unconscious. Kimi raised his head and opened his eyes, dazed, lost, confused. He couldn't see well, he couldn't hear well either. The abandoned factory where he had been fighting with the green goblin, whose identity he did not yet know, had been reduced to ruins. And worst of all? There was no trace of him anymore, he was alone, he had lost him. Surely he had felt that the explosion had finished him off and he had left in triumph.

When Kimi was finally able to stand upright without needing to lean somewhere, he remembered Y/n.

Oh, shit.

She was with him. He had told her to stay away, to go home, but his girlfriend was stubborn and he knew it. She followed them to the factory and Kimi now didn't know where she was.

Kimi looked around, his hear rate was increasin fast. “Y/n!” He tried to scream her name, he was just looking for an answer, he didn't care if it was an incoherent scream, his name back or anything, he just needed to know she was okay. “Y/N!? Fuck, where are you?” no answer, no noise, he only heard the echo of his own screams.

He was weak, his whole body ached, but the desperation to find her allowed him to move. He would not allow himself to give in to the pain until he knew where Y/n was. A few more steps allowed Kimi to see a body on the ground. He didn't need to see her face, nor distinguish the color of her clothes to know who she was.

“Y/N!” Kimi started running in the direction of his girlfriend's lifeless body. Once he arrived it took him time to assimilate the situation. He dropped his body on his knees in front of her, took off his mask and lifted her face with his hands. With extreme care he wiped the dust of the explosion from her skin.

"No... Don't do this to me, don't go. Y/n, please..." It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. “I’m okey, see? I’m alive, Y/n I’m…“ Tears wouldn't stop flowing from his eyes. She was dead because of him. He had condemned her to love him and that had led her to die for him. This day should have been a dream, but it had turned into a nightmare, a nightmare he would never forget.

Thursday, August 21, 2025. Bologna.

“Thank you very much Mr. Wolff for giving me the opportunity to work with you” Kimi shook Dr. Toto Wolff's hand enthusiastically. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, to work at Woscorp even if it was only for four months, until the end of the year.

Y/n's aunt worked there as a scientist and had offered Kimi the chance to have a job with the company, even if it was a small one. For an 18 year old teenager with a bright future ahead of him this opportunity meant a great deal personally.

He was extremely glad that Y/n's family did not blame him for her death. On the day of the explosion the firemen arrived and the first to enter the building was Y/n's father. He saw Kimi kneeling on the floor, crying, hugging his daughter's body and wearing the Spiderman suit. Kimi just said sorry and left, not looking him in the face and praying that his girlfriend's father wouldn't say anything about his identity.

"We are more than delighted to have you here Kimi. Remember to come tomorrow at the same time so I can show you around the facility" Kimi just smiled, nodded several times and left after saying goodbye.

Once he was far enough from the company he called his best friend, Oliver Bearman. He was British but came to Italy to study two years ago and he and Kimi had become really close.

“Man, I'm in, I'm going to work at Woscorp.” Ollie could sense Kimi's excitement in his voice.

“That's great!, but remember we're meeting to celebrate your birthday today.” Ollie would be heading back to London with his family the next day to spend the last two weeks of summer they had left, so he wasn't going to be able to be there for Kimi's birthday.

Later that day Ollie was waiting for Kimi sitting on a bench at their usual meeting point. Kimi, as usual, was late.

Half an hour later Kimi arrived, his hair wet and trying to catch his breath. “Wow, only half an hour late, record time” Ollie said in a sarcastic tone.

“Ha, ha. you know-” before Kimi could finish the sentence Ollie stepped forward and completed it for him, “spiderman duties. I know, I was kidding.”

The plan Ollie had prepared was simple: go to the movies and then go to his house to talk and spend some time together doing nothing.

After going to see the movie Kimi and Ollie arrived at Ollie's house. The good thing about his best friend's house was that it was always empty, because he lived alone, and they could talk freely about the other part of his life, the extraordinary part, Spiderman.

His life hadn't been the same since the spider bit him. The day Ollie found out that Kimi was Spiderman wasn't so chaotic, but when Y/n found out it was horrible.

Ollie just stood there quietly, saying nothing, in shock. Then he started asking him a thousand questions: Did the bite hurt? How did you realize you had powers? What was the coolest villain you've ever faced?

On the other hand, Y/n realized it on her own, after noticing several strange behaviors from her boyfriend. She never told him, she didn't want to accept it. That's exactly why Y/n was ignoring Kimi for several days and he didn't understand why. Y/n didn't agree with Kimi risking his life in that way and after a very strong fight between the two Kimi made her a promise: to always come back to her to show her that he was okay.

Kimi sat on Ollie's bed as if it was his own home. He dropped his body on the mattress and let out a sigh. “It's going to be a year” Kimi's voice had taken on a sadder tone.

Ollie already knew what his friend was referring to, and hated to see him suffering and blaming himself on his own birthday. “The worst part of it all is that the green goblin is still out there and I don't know who he is.”

“Well, he hasn't reappeared since that day either” Ollie was right. The green goblin hadn't reappeared since Y/n died and it was something that made Kimi uneasy, always kept him on his toes. If he showed up again Spiderman would be ready to finally defeat him and not cause another misfortune.

“Anyway, tell me how it was at Woscorp, do you have to come back tomorrow?” Ollie changed the subject in an attempt to lighten the mood. Kimi looked up at him and smiled, it was a small, weak smile but visible enough for Ollie to see that Kimi was thanking him for talking about something else.

He was grateful to have Ollie as a friend, they understood each other and complemented each other. Kimi couldn't be himself without Ollie, and he couldn't be Spiderman without him either.

Friday, August 22, 2025. Bologna.

Kimi arrived 15 minutes early at Worscop. He didn't want to be late and make a bad impression, plus he was excited to see the facility where he would start working next month.

“Kimi! what a surprise to see you so early.” Kimi turned around, surprised. Behind him was Toto Wolf with his typical smile. “I guess you're ready to start the tour” Kimi only nodded and followed him inside the building.

The company was huge and Kimi admired every detail like a little boy. The laboratories had the latest technologies and the company's inventions and new products looked promising. The building also had common places ideal for resting, these had a warmer and cozier design.

“I always like to save the best for last” Toto glanced sideways at Kimi who was gawking at some scientists discussing about a project while others were doing an experiment he had never seen in his life.

The two stopped at a metal door. Next to it was a glass window to see inside the room and a table with controls. “This is to my credit, I invented and built it, and it's finally finished.” Toto turned to look at Kimi. “Would you like to look inside and see what it does?” Kimi, without a second thought, nodded excitedly and entered the room. Toto stood outside at the controls.

The room was small and dark. All the walls, floor and ceiling were covered with what looked like identical machines, symmetrically placed. Wires were also visible and ran from the ceiling to the center of the floor. Kimi was fascinated and the curiosity he felt to see it all working was huge.

“Cool right?” Kimi heard Toto's voice through the speakers. He looked at Toto in the eyes and nodded, signaling that he could turn on the machine(s), that he was ready to see the room work. Toto just smirked.

The room began to light up and warm up at the same time. Kimi looked around in wonder. “Good luck Spiderman” Toto's words made him lock his gaze on him in seconds but the shock of the moment didn't let him react. In a second Kimi felt his body fall into the void and started to see everything black, until he didn't feel anything anymore.

Friday, August 22, 2025. Bologna???

Kimi woke up in a small room. He sat up and looked around. White walls, a mirror and a bedside table with a bottle of water and his cell phone. A closet, with very few clothes, and a bed where he was sitting right now. He got up and approached the closet. There were only T-shirts with the Mercedes logo and many other sponsor’s logos. There were also two pairs of weird sneakers that he clearly wasn't going to wear to go outside to walk, but then what were they used for?

Kimi thought about his Spiderman suit, was he still wearing it? he separed his shirt a little from his body to see if he still had his suit on underneath. When he saw the red fabric he let out a sigh of relief.

Where was he at? Where had that machine teleported him to? How did Toto know he was Spiderman?

Kimi grabbed his cell phone and looked at the notifications. Missed calls and unread messages from his mother, from his father, from…, from Y/n. Y/n? It wasn't possible, she was dead. In four days it would be a year since her death. He himself embraced the lifeless body of his girlfriend.

Quickly Kimi unlocked his phone and called Y/n, he needed to hear her voice, to make sure it was real and not a bad joke.

On the third ring Y/n answered. "Kimi! You hadn't answered my calls and I was about to call you." Her voice was the same, she was alive, she was talking to him right now.

“Y/n?” his voice came out weak and nervous, he couldn't believe it.

“Yes. Are you okay Kimi? is something wrong? you sound strange” Y/n replied worriedly. Kimi not to alarm her only decided to continue the conversation. "Yes, yes… why did you call me?"

"I just wanted to tell you that tomorrow I won't go to the paddock because I have to attend the university, but I will try to finish the work I have pending so I can go on Saturday to the Qualy and on Sunday to the race." Paddock? race and qualy? Y/n was talking about Formula 1?

"Yeah, okay, no problem. I'll call you later, okay Y/n?" Kimi hung up the call and put the cell phone back on the nightstand. He looked at himself in the mirror, trying to figure out what was going on. He changed his clothes and put on his Mercedes T-shirt. If he was going to be there, whether for a short or long time, then he would have to act like he belonged there.

As he left the room and walked down the stairs he followed some people into what looked like a garage.“Ah Kimi! I thought you had fallen asleep, I was going to go wake you up now, in half an hour you have to go out on track.” Now kimi was even more confused. The gentleman who was talking to him looked like he knew him. He looked around. A formula one car, lots of screens and the typical headphones they use to listen to the radio.

Kimi was a big fan of formula one but he had never expected to be in that situation, as if in this universe he worked in it. Because he had assumed that, that he was in another universe, otherwise how would he explain that Y/n was alive then?

Thirty minutes later Kimi was inside the car with a special suit on and a helmet covering his entire head. As expected, he had set the worst time among the 20 drivers. If in his universe he had only driven his father's car, to practice for his driver's license, and had played the formula one video game on the playstation, how was he going to know how to drive a formula one out of nowhere? At least he didn't crash into any walls.

Kimi got out of the car as best as he could and took off his helmet. “Sorry guys, I'm having a bad day” The engineers understood Kimi but they were concerned. They needed the points and they needed both drivers to score and Kimi didn't look like he was even going to finish the race.

The Mercedes staff said goodbye to Kimi, encouraging him. They told him that tomorrow's free practice 3 and qualifying would probably go better for him, Kimi doubted it but he wasn't going to tell them anything either.

When he got back to the room, which he now understood to be his driver's room, he plopped down on the mattress. He picked up his cell phone and just then a Twitter notification popped up with the news that a building was on fire and that firefighters were trying to save as many people as possible.

Kimi jumped up and ran out of the paddock. In a corner he took off his clothes leaving only his spiderman suit and went in the direction of the burning building.

When he arrived at the building he saw people shouting from the balconies and firefighters helping, but they were too slow. A policeman who was otside the building approached Kimi “Hey kid, I don't know what game you're playing, but this is no time to come dressed up and get in the way.” That's when Kimi understood that in that universe they didn't have Spiderman either, everything was so different there.

Instead of leaving Kimi climbed up the building and pulled as many people out as posible, even faster than the firemen. An old woman approached him and asked him to go inside her house to look for her cat. Kimi did, he went inside the house. He risked his life to save a cat, because that's what Spiderman does. The apartment was full of smoke but there were not so many flames. Kimi saw the cat in a corner and picked it up. It was at that moment that he noticed a bomb placed on another corner, it looked like it was intentionally placed there. It was also the exact same bomb that had killed Y/n in his universe. There was no Spiderman here, but the fucking green goblin was, and it was going to be his turn to finish him off once and for all.

He got out with the cat before the bomb exploded and returned it to the lady. Seconds later the bomb exploded and that whole part of the building was destroyed. Kimi looked to the side and saw a figure flying away. “Son of a bitch” Kimi went running towards the goblin, waddling in his webs. Spiderman and the green goblin came face to face again on the roof of another building.

“What a surprise Spiderman” The green goblin was trying to unnerve Kimi. On the other hand Kimi's anger was growing. This was his chance, he just had to finish him off right there.

The two started to fight each other, a melee battle. Kimi ended up immobilized by the goblin, his body was full of wounds and blows. “You are weak against me, Spiderman” and with those words the goblin flew away, leaving Kimi there, desperate and angry. Again, another fucking time he had defeated him and he had taken off.

He didn't know why he was doing this, maybe out of habit after the promise he made her in his universe, or maybe to feel better after what had just happened. He leaned against the window and tapped on it. The window opened without warning and Kimi fell into the room. He let out a sound of pain and looked up. Y/n was shocked, confused, she didn't know what was going on. Who was the lunatic in spiderman costume that had fallen inside her room?

“I'm fine” Kimi's voice was weak, he was tired after the fight. Y/n helped him up, sat him on her bed and left the room. Then she came back with a first aid kit to heal his wounds.

Y/n sat in front of Kimi. “Who are you?” Kimi didn't want to tell her, he didn't want to make the same mistake as in his universe. Telling her that he was spiderman would lead to her death. He didn't want that, not again.

“It doesn't matter” Kimi downplayed it and looked down. Y/n only frowned.

“It does matter” she snapped back at him. “I'd like to know who's in my room right now, I don't feel like having a crazy person in front of me, because at the moment you meet all the requirements for being a crazy person.” Kimi sighed and lifted his head slightly, giving Y/n access to remove his mask. Y/n carefully removed it until it reached his nose. She didn't remove it all the way and left it there. She didn't need any more, she already knew who he was. She opened the first aid kit and began to clean his wounds. “You're crazy” she whispered, Kimi only let out a little laugh.

It didn't seem real to him. He had Y/n in front of him, after so long they were together again. Y/n's reaction this time to his identity had been much calmer than in the other universe. She hadn't seen his full face yet but she already knew who he was and was calmly cleaning his wounds. “Only you could come up with the idea of dressing up as a character from a comic book and sneaking into a burning building to save people” Kimi only let out whimpers from the stinging he felt as Y/n cleaned his wounds. He had already realized that there was no Spiderman in that universe, but he didn't expect him to be a fictional character. No wonder people had treated him like a crazy person when he appeared in the burning building.

Once Y/n finished cleaning his wounds she put everything away in the first aid kit and left it on the floor. She stood there, looking at him, and cradled his face with her hands. “But you're my favorite crazy person” Y/n whispered those words against Kimi's lips and the only thing he could do was smile. Their lips connected and Kimi felt like the happiest man in the world. How he had longed to kiss her again, to touch her again. He had missed her so much. They broke apart for a second, Y/n pulled his mask off completely and kissed him again. They were kissing as if it was the last time they where going to kiss each other, and deep inside kimi he knew that that might be the case.

Monday, August 25, 2025. Bologna but in the universe where he is a F1 driver.

His weekend as a Formula 1 driver had not been successful. He was last in qualifying and failed to finish the race. Luckily Y/n was there to support him.

The green goblin had not reappeared. He also discovered that his boss in this universe was Toto Wolff. The person who had brought him to this universe, who knew he was spiderman, is also here, in this universe. Kimi suspected that he was the green goblin, but had no proof to confirm it.

Today was his birthday and Y/n had insisted on making a special plan. They were walking down a street with very few people, on the suburbs of the city so Kimi could have privacy. Celebrity life was stressful for him and he was still not used to it. Suddenly Kimi stopped in his tracks and Y/n who was holding his hand looked at him with a confused expression. “Are you okay?” Y/n asked, but Kimi just looked around, until he saw smoke coming out of a factory. “Y/n go home.” It was an order, and if Y/n didn't obey it he would take her home himself, he would not put her in danger again.

“I'm not going home, I'm going to stay with you.” Y/n had already decided, she would not leave Kimi alone. “Yes you're going to leave and we're not going to discuss it Y/n” she, instead of answering him, started running in the direction of the factory. Kimi followed behind. “Y/n please go home” Y/n turned around, looked into his eyes and replied. “Together or nothing” And that's when Kimi realized what day it was and the situation they were in.

No matter what universe they were in, it was always going to end the same. It was the same scenario as a year ago in his own universe and he knew that even if he tried to do anything to change the fate, it was going to be in vain and Y/n was going to end up dead. Because his girlfriend was stubborn and he knew it. Because the love Y/n felt for Kimi was just as strong as the love he felt for her, and if Kimi was willing to sacrifice himself for her Y/n was willing to sacrifice herself for him too, and that's what was going to happen.

I would appreciate it if you could leave a comment!! I want to know if you guys liked it as much as i enjoyed writing it.

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