#again with the Kardashian reference

[thali-lemmonpie]

He puts the ass in astronomical ✨✨ Kirks version

[gothgoblinbabe]

Drunken Words, Sober Thoughts (pt.2)

Logan Howlett x fem reader

divider credit

Warnings: MDNI/18+, mostly porn w little plot, unprotected sex (wrap it up pls), fem!reader, being referred to as a girl, use of pet names, very light choking, filming sex/making a sex tape, swearing, I believe that is it but if i missed any pls lmk <3 I also didn’t proofread this one as much as I usually do so forgive me for any mistakes or inconsistencies!

Summary: [based on this ask] I don’t know what to really say for this one cause I feel like the ask explains it perfectly lol, but part 1 is here if you want to read it but this also works as a stand alone thing. I did tweak a couple of things from the ask but nothing major!

Word count: 5.5K

Since you and Logan had gotten to know each other a little better, you were over his and Wade’s apartment sometimes more than your own. He’d begun to make himself comfortable in yours too, finding himself waking up in your decorative sheets with the morning sun shining onto the pictures taped to your wall. It was a comfortable routine you’d started; waking up in each other's beds, going out to eat at some 24 hour diner when neither of you could sleep, talking with each other till the sun came up. Weekends with Wade even turned to weekends with Wade and Logan, your legs slung over your boyfriend's lap with his arm around your shoulder.

Unfortunately for him, though, you and Wade would not budge on Keeping Up With The Kardashians.

“I still don’t get it,” he grumbled next to you on the couch, quirking an eyebrow at you and his roommate, “what the hell are they famous for, anyway?”

“Well,” you began to explain, raising the remote to mute the TV, “their dad was a really famous lawyer, he defended O-”

“Nope,” Wade piped up from beside you through a mouthful of chips, “you know that’s not the real reason they’re famous, cupcake.”

You turned to narrow your eyes at him, “C’mon, you don’t mean -”

“Mhm,” he hummed, eyes flickering from you to the muted TV so he could read the subtitles without missing a beat.

“What?” Logan finally asked, clearly frustrated that neither of you would clue him in.

You sighed, rolling your eyes and laughing a bit to yourself, “Okay, so, Kim? The main sister?”

He nodded, “the one with the huge -”

“Yes, her.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, she used to date this singer Ray J and in the early two thousands, they made a sex tape. It got leaked somehow and she kinda shot into fame and I guess her family followed,” you explained simply.

“You should show him the tape,” Wade chimed in again, taking the remote from your lap and unmuting the TV.

“Jesus, I’m not gonna do that,” you shook your head, “I don’t think he’d wanna see it.”

“You’d be right,” Logan agreed, cringing a little.

“You two should make your own, then. You can finally be famous for somethin’ else, peanut!” Wade suggested, poking at his roommate's shoulder, “plus, with a pretty girl? Man, that would blow up.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. That was seemingly the end of the discussion, except Logan couldn’t get Wade’s words to leave his brain.

You two should make your own, then.

It stuck with him to the point that he was staring at his ceiling that night, listening to your steady breathing as you slept beside him, still unable to think of anything else. It was a bad idea, wasn’t it? He couldn’t ask you to do that with him. Could he?

He couldn’t shake the image of you on the screen of some camera, your back to his chest as he fucked you from behind and you batted your pretty eyes at the lens. He’d never let another soul see it, it would be something just between the two of you - something he’d definitely keep to watch a million times over. He looked around his apartment the next day after you'd gone to work to see if maybe Wade had an old camera somewhere - one he wouldn’t miss if he never saw it again. He dug out a silver camcorder from the junk drawer in the kitchen, turning it over in his hands. It looked like one you’d find on a shelf in a radioshack - when they were still around - something you’d use to film a kid’s high school graduation in the mid two thousands. As long as it worked, it would do. He fumbled the thing open, pressing a couple buttons before the screen finally lit up and gave him the option to look through the album. There were only three things on there - a blurry picture of Wade’s shoes, an even blurrier picture of half of his face and a twelve second video of him trying to film Logan while he swatted the camera out of his hands and onto the floor.

He found a charger and hooked it up to the wall, already thinking over how exactly he was going to approach the subject with you. If he was going to be able to do what he’d been thinking about, that camera had to be charged to last for at least a couple of hours. He’d planned to stay the night at your place and figured he’d try to work up the nerve to ask then.

He found himself on your couch later that night, his thighs spread while you sat in his lap and played with his hair. He was leaving kisses down your throat, his hands on the sides of your thighs.

“Can I ask you somethin’, sweetheart?” he mumbled into your skin. He pulled his face away to look into your eyes.

“Hm?” you raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

He almost felt dirty for what he was about to ask of you - like he was perverted for even considering it when you looked at him so sweetly.

His eyes moved from your face to his jacket laying beside him and he reached into the pocket, pulling out the small camera.

“I kinda wanted to try somethin’ a little different.”

Your lips parted when you realized what he was holding, eyes flickering from the device to his face. He watched your lips curl up into a smile. You knew instantly what he was about to ask when you remembered your conversation from the night before.

“You wanna film a sex tape?”

He swallowed hard, fearful that you were about to scoff and lift yourself off him. Instead, you rested your hand over his that held the camera, “I wonder where you got that idea.”

You took it from his hand, flipping it open and turning it on. You held it up and hit record, smirking when he rolled his eyes at you.

“I didn’t say I wanted my face all in it,” he scoffed, a smile tugging at his lips.

“What, you think I’m gonna let you only film me?” you pulled the camera from your face, quirking an eyebrow at him, “uh-uh, babe. If this is gonna be our sex tape, I want you in it.”

He huffed, glaring at you through the lens.

“Besides,” you continued, “you’re acting like you're the only one who's gonna like it.”

“So, you’re not upset that I asked?”

You shook your head, “Upset that a hot guy asked to film himself screwing my brains out? Hell no.”

He gnawed at his bottom lip and watched you fiddle with the camera, clicking through settings and trying out filters. Screw your brains out, huh? He could do that. He wouldn't admit it even if you asked, but he was turned on beyond belief from the idea that you’d watch it when he wasn’t with you - he liked the idea of putting on a performance for you, giving you what you want so you’d stuff the little vibrator you kept in the drawer of your nightstand inside your aching pussy when you watched it back, your eyes trained on his face and remembering how good he’d made you feel.

“It’s kind of an older camera,” Logan began, his hands wrapping around the back of your thighs, “maybe we should test it out, see if it works?”

“Oh, should we?”

He stood up in seconds, his strong arms holding you up by your thighs as he carried you to your room. You giggled, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck. You held the camera up to film yourself. Your face was in frame, Logan only visible by the back of his head as you stretched your arm out.

“This is my very sexy boyfriend, taking me to bed,” you narrated, kissing the side of his face.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, burying his face in your neck as he nudged your door open with his foot. He dropped you onto the bed and you kept the camera trained on him as he crawled over you.

“You’re gonna keep that damn thing on my face the whole time?” 

He leaned over you with his hands on either side of your head, his bulging muscles even more prominent from your angle underneath him. His tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth, licking over his lips. You wouldn’t mind if the whole video was just from this angle.

“You look fucking hot.”

He was a little taken back by your compliment. Even after months of sleeping together, he still wasn’t used to the praise, dismissing you with a scoff or simply hiding his red face.

“Look who’s talkin’.”

Logan snatched the camera from your hands in one quick swipe, sitting back on his heels so he could get all of you in frame. You sat up, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it somewhere off the bed, leaving you in your bra and jeans. You looked angelic underneath him with your hair spread around your head like a halo, your chest heaving in excitement. You bit your lip and grabbed the end of his shirt to pull him closer to you, lidded eyes staring up at him.

“Fuck.”

He groaned, letting you pull him down and slip your tongue into his mouth. He haphazardly placed the camera on your bedside table, glancing at it momentarily to make sure it was on before diving back onto you.

His hands slid up your back and under the band of your bra. He unhooked the clasp and pushed the straps down your shoulders, pulling the garment from your chest and licking his lips in awe. It didn’t matter how often he saw you naked; each time was like the first.

His mouth latched onto your chest almost immediately, swirling his tongue and sucking in a way that elicited a moan from your lips. Your back arched and he hooked his arm around your waist to pull you as close as possible. He was sucking dark marks into your soft skin, leaving each one shiny with his saliva. If there was one thing you were sure of with Logan, it was that he really loved being messy when he toyed with you.

He dragged his lips from your chest down your waistband, leaving tender kisses on your stomach and sides. Over time, he’d slowly gotten more affectionate - more loving and emotional - during sex. He always showed it the best he could, but he was clearly becoming more comfortable being vulnerable with you. He still had his animalistic and rough ways about him, but now it was combined with soft kisses to your nose and forehead, mumbled praises into your mouth and declarations of love while you panted from the pace of his thrusts. 

Logan stopped at the waistband of your jeans, his fingers popping the metal button with little hesitation. You wordlessly lifted your hips for him to drag them down your thighs, leaving you only in your panties. He leaned over to grab the camera from the table, leaning back a bit to get you in frame.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he huffed, his free hand immediately sliding between your thighs to graze his fingers against the damp fabric, “all for me?”

You nodded, hooded eyes and parted lips posing for the camera, “yours, all yours.”

Logan was chewing on his bottom lip while he admired you from behind the camera. He knew without a doubt that you were the prettiest girl he’d ever been with; none of those dirty magazines or tapes he’d seen over the years could even compare to what was in front of him now. You were positively heavenly, a type of beauty so alluring that it bordered being otherworldly. 

He finally used his free hand to remove your panties when you lifted your hips, set on recording as much as he could from the perspective he had because fuck, it was a good one.

Laying in front of him - completely bare - with the camera focused on you made you feel vulnerable and a little shy and Logan was always able to read you.

He wanted to focus on you even more, but he instead handed the device over to you when he sensed your mild discomfort, the lens facing him.

“Here,” was all he said, letting you bring the camera up to your eye before he tugged his t-shirt over his head. He knew you clearly enjoyed filming him and even if he didn’t love the idea of being the object of attention, he wanted you to be comfortable and he’d sacrifice his own comfort for you any day. So, once he was shirtless, he stood off the bed in front of you to strip himself of his jeans and boxers, letting his hard cock spring up to hit his stomach when he took off the latter.

You had - fortunately for you - figured out the zoom option on the camera and used it to perfectly frame his leaking cock as the only thing in the shot, bobbing when he moved towards you to take the device back. When he did, he set it on the table next to the bed, messing with the same zoom option so that the shot was of you sitting up with your legs spread and your cunt aching to be touched.

Settling himself on his stomach between your legs, he hiked your thighs onto his shoulder, his mouth inches from your heat.

“Do me a favor, sweetheart,” he began and you nodded, ready to agree to anything he asked of you, “be as loud as you can, yeah? Wanna be able to hear ya’ on tape.”

He instantly delved his tongue into you, making you gasp. You tenderly rested your hands on his arms that were hooked around your thighs as if you were encouraging him to stay there.

He ate you every time like he was starving, his cheeks and chin always slick with saliva and sap from between your legs when he finally pulled himself off you.

You did as he instructed - though, you were probably going to do it anyway - moaning openly as he licked stripes up your dripping cunt so he could circle his tongue around your clit. 

“Oh my god,” you whined, your thighs clamping around his head out of instinct. He let you thread your fingers through his hair, tugging at the dark strands to help angle his head and making him growl with his mouth still suctioned to you.

You felt around beside you for the camera, fumbling with it till you had the lens angled at him in between your legs.

“Fuck, L-Logan,” you panted, lovingly caressing his temple with your free hand.

“Mhm,” he hummed into you, the vibration pulling a whimper from your throat, “you like holding that thing, huh?”

Your eyes were glued to his through the small screen.

“You’re so fucking hot, of course I do,” you sighed, your lips parted and chest heaving.

He scoffed in amusement, continuing to slip his tongue between your folds and prod at your entrance. With his face still buried in you and his eyes closed in concentration, he took the camera from you and set it back on the table. He used his arms around your thighs to yank you further down the bed so you were flat on your back. You watched in awe as he spat a mouthful of saliva right onto your already soaked pussy, using his fingers to swipe his spit all over you. Latching his lips back onto your clit, he easily slipped two of his digits into you, feverishly pumping in and out. Your moans grew louder with each thrust of his fingers, echoing off your walls along with the wet noises that came from your soaked cunt. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, lettin’ me eat your pretty pussy,” he rambled, voice muffled by your thighs, “always so fuckin’ good.”

You inhaled sharply when he gently rolled your clit between his teeth, licking after like a balm to soothe the searing sensation. You thought you couldn’t moan any louder until he replaced his fingers inside you with his tongue, angling his mouth in a way that made his nose nudge your bundle of nerves.

“Only good for you,” you managed to choke out, turning your head to the side to bury it in your pillow, “only for you.”

His hand slid up to grope your chest, pinching your nipple between his fingers. He slid it up even further to grab your chin and turn your head so you were forced to look at him. 

“Eyes on me, baby,” he grumbled.

“Ah - uh-huh,” you tried to make some noise of agreement but were overwhelmed with how he was expertly tracing your cunt with his tongue.

Until he detached his mouth from you completely.

You groaned in frustration and knitted your eyebrows, silently asking why he stopped.

“Use your words or I’ll stop. Ya’ got it?”

His stern voice sent shivers down your spine. 

“Yes, baby, please -“

His tongue was already back in between your folds by the time you said yes. He kept his vice like grip around your thighs, deciding he’d be content if he died right there with his head between your legs.

“Love when you - when you - fuck - eat me out,” you panted, “you make me feel so good.”

You knew how much he secretly loved the praise, catching the way he ground his hips into the mattress to find some sort of relief whenever you told him he was doing a good job, that he was so handsome, that you loved what he was doing to you. He was usually the dominant one in the relationship, whispering praises in your ear while you were underneath him, but you knew him well enough by now to have figured out that he loved when you did it back.

“You’re perfect, Logan, I - ah - I love you,” you gasped when his fingers pumped back into you.

It wasn’t all about sex with you two - though it was a wonderful part of your relationship - and yet he’d discovered that he’d never felt more loved than he had when he was with you, declaring your love for him while he completely devoted himself to you with his face in your pussy. 

“I love you, too, pretty girl,” he grunted, “love fuckin’ you with my mouth.”

His filthy words fueled the fire building in your lower stomach and you tugged at his hair in an attempt to warn him.

“ ‘m gonna come,” you slurred, ankles locked on Logan’s back to keep him in place.

“Come for me, beautiful, c’mon,” he coaxed while his fingers abused the spot inside of you that made you whimper to encourage him to keep going, “want it all, want you to come on my face.”

That was definitely what sent you over the edge, mumbling unintelligible praises as he lapped up anything that had spilled out of you and onto his tongue. 

“Tastes so damn good,” he heaved, his fingers still working at a consistent pace, “I think I can pull another one outta you.”

You felt tears beginning to form in your eyes from the overstimulation, crying out when he grazed your swollen clit with his teeth.

“ ‘s too - too much,” you tried to pull his head away by tugging his hair, to no avail. 

He’d let you go, but not without one more taste of you.

It only took a couple more flicks of his tongue to have you arching your back, tears rolling down the sides of your face as you gushed around his fingers for a second time.

When he finally slipped his fingers out of you and he’d left the comfortable spot between your warm thighs, you could see that his entire lower face was almost completely slick with a mix of his spit and your cum. He was licking his lips, trying to savor the taste of you but making no attempt to wipe anything off his chin or cheeks. He was in love with you but he was also in love with the reality that he got to do this to you, that he got to taste every bit, that you wanted him to. You sat up to give him a desperate kiss - a clash of tongues and teeth that tasted entirely of you. You finally pulled away to admire his face.

Seeing him with his hair disheveled from your repeated tugging, his lips near swollen and raw and his cheeks still shining made you crave the idea of returning the favor. 

“Sit on the edge of the bed, baby.”

Though he was usually the one giving orders instead of following them, he obliged anyway. His cock was still leaking in anticipation, hard against his stomach. When you got down on your knees in front of him, he couldn’t hide the excited smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He never expected you to return the favor when he used his mouth on you - content with that being a reward itself - but when you did? You usually left him shaking.

You took the camera from the table and handed it up to Logan, eager eyes following the lens.

“Can I suck your cock? Please?”

You knew he loved it when you begged and you always used it to get him exactly where you wanted him, especially when you looked up at him with those pleading eyes.

“Go ahead, baby,” he used his free hand to loosely hold your hair back in his fist, “I know you like havin’ it in your mouth, huh?”

You nodded eagerly, your hand wrapping around the base of his shaft. You hovered your mouth over his tip, letting a glob of spit drip from your lips so you could coat his cock in it before you tried to take him in your throat. You’d done it before, but he was huge and every time you tried to prep to make it easier. Your jaw even became sore sometimes from how wide you’d have to keep your mouth open. You never complained, though, because the mere idea of having the weight of Logan’s heavy cock in your mouth was enough to make you drool.

You spread your saliva up and down, leaning forward and dragging his tip across your parted lips while staring up at the lens of the camera.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, focused on you through the small screen, “such a fucking tease.”

You grinned, placing a light kiss on his tip before engulfing him into your mouth, tongue sliding along his slit to taste the small amount of precum that’d dripped from him when he first sat up. You suctioned and began to work up a pace, taking him as far as you could into your mouth while your hand stroked the rest of him.

“I love giving you head,” you admitted in the most sultry way possible when you popped your lips off his tip, long lashes batting up at him. It wasn’t a lie, either, and that was clear by how sloppy you loved to be whenever it was your turn to be on your knees. If you had at least one thing in common, it was that you wanted to worship each other as much as possible. You wanted to leave him in a state of euphoria the same way he did you, just as messily dedicated to making sure he came.

“Yeah? I can tell, sweetheart,” he still held the camera but his eyes were trained on your face, “such a good girl, sucking my cock like you were made for it.”

You tried to push him further into your throat, eager to see his thighs shake and hear him groan your name. You gagged on his tip and he inadvertently rolled his hips. You hummed, eyes starting to water every time you choked on his dick. You used your free hand to cup his balls and smeared your saliva down from the base of his cock to coat them. You pulled yourself off his mouth momentarily to spit on him again, licking your lips in excitement.

“Fuck’s sake,” he grunted, camera abandoned on the side of the bed so he could place both his hands on the back of your head, “doin’ so fucking good, princess.”

You continued to stroke him with one hand and massage his balls in the other, your tongue still swirling and sucking around him. You popped off him with a smile, spit covering your lips and chin while your hands continued their motion.

Logan leaned back on his elbows and held the camera up again with one hand. When you wrapped your lips around his cock again, he started to roll his hips at a steady pace so he could fuck your throat, grunting every time you gagged around him. 

You picked up your pace, stroking his base while your head bobbed up and down in synch with your hand.

“Atta girl,” he panted, “jus’ like that.”

You could tell he was already close because he was sloppily rocking his hips up into your mouth, his thighs beginning to shake every time he hit the back of your throat. He sat up suddenly, grabbing your hair again to slowly pull you off his cock.

“On the bed, hands and knees,” he instructed simply, letting you scramble onto the mattress as he set up the camera on the end of your bed. You understood almost instantly what he wanted, biting back a smile as you laid your chest flat on the mattress, back arched with your ass in the air. 

He climbed behind you and placed his knees on the inside of yours to push your legs apart even further. His large hands gripped your hips and he pulled you against him, his hard cock prodding your entrance. He leaned his body over yours so that your back was flush with his chest.

“I’m gonna fuck this pretty pussy like you deserve,” he muttered into your ear, intoxicating you with the feeling of his hot breath fanning the side of your face, “think you can take it, sweetheart?”

You nodded eagerly and gasped when he dragged the tip of his cock along the folds of your dripping cunt.

“Can take it - I want it so bad, Logan,” you pleaded, pushing back into him. Your eyes bore into the camera, lips parted. It was his idea for a sex tape after all, you might as well be sure to give him a show.

He sheathed himself into you completely in one thrust with an iron grip on your hips, the weight of him pushing into you almost knocking the wind out of your lungs. He began to slowly inch himself out and slam back in again, pulling out a little further each time. He was grunting into the back of your neck while he rocked his hips. 

“Takin’ it so good, baby,” he panted, one of his hands moving to your neck and barely applying pressure while the other held his upper body above yours. His lips came to the side of your face and left a kiss so sweet that it could’ve rotted your teeth.

You whimpered when he worked up to a steady pace and reveled in the sensation of him filling you completely. Your fingers gripped the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto so you could stable yourself when his hard thrusts nearly knocked you over completely.

“S-so fucking - ah - so good,” you slurred your words with your eyes squeezed shut. You were slack jawed, nearly drooling.

“Yeah? Can tell you like it,” he huffed, “you’re so pretty, takin’ all of me like a good girl.”

You nodded frantically, whimpering every time he slammed into you.

“You like bein’ on camera, don’t you?” he continued, “you’re really fucking wet.”

You could only moan in response. You were soaking around him, drenching the base of his cock and the happy trail that went up to his stomach. He leaned back on his knees and his pace never faltered. 

Your hands outstretched in front of you and you grabbed the camera. You angled it over your shoulder and focused the lens on his face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

He scoffed when he noticed the camera over your shoulder, keeping his rhythm while his eyes were glued to the lens. If he thought too hard about what you might do with the video later, he wasn’t going to last much longer. 

“Feels good, baby?” you panted, an amused smile creeping onto your face.

He was always the one to talk to you like that - pet names and filthy encouragement - but you wanted to get his face on film when you teased him back - or, at least tried to. 

His expression mirrored yours and he grabbed the camera while his other hand kept an iron grip on your hip.

“I think you like holdin’ that thing a little too much,” he brought it up to his face and squinted at you through the screen.

“Mm,” you hummed, your face flushed and body sticky with sweat, “can’t help it.”

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous like this, you know that? God,” he sighed, “can’t get enough of you.”

You would’ve found his words endearing if you could even process them. The intoxicating feeling every time he pushed back into you was enough to render you speechless.

Logan angled the camera down to film the repeated motion, gaping at the mess you left around the base of him every time he pulled back.

“My dirty girl,” he cooed, “you like makin’ a mess on my cock?”

“F-Fuck - yes, yes,” you sobbed before he even finished his sentence. You could feel the pressure building in your stomach, bringing you closer to finishing.

“C’mon, sweetheart, I can feel you gettin’ tighter. Come for me, baby,” he grunted, his hand sliding from your hip to grip your ass.

It only took a few more strokes for you to do exactly that with your legs shaking underneath you. 

“ ‘Atta girl,” he growled. He watched you gush around him, zooming in on your dripping pussy as he stretched you out over and over again. You were chanting his name, muttering unintelligible praises against your sheets.

It wasn’t long before he followed suit, his pace becoming sloppy as he spilled into you and let it drip down your thighs. He clicked off the camera and tossed it somewhere else onto the bed. 

“C’mere,” he huffed, pulling you up to lean back against him, “love you so much.” He was leaving saccharine kisses from your ear down to your shoulder, still panting.

“I love you, too,” you managed to say with your eyes already half closed. He pulled out and laid you on your side, grabbing some t-shirt that had been next to the bed to clean you up. He wrapped you in his arms from behind and pulled up the comforter to cover you both.

“Can’t wait to watch that back,” he mumbled into your neck.

“Mhm,” you were already drifting off to sleep while he stroked your hair, “me neither.”

Logan fell asleep right after you with his arms still around you and his legs tangled in yours.

—-----------------------------------

Later that same week, you sat on the couch beside Logan in his apartment, flipping through TV channels on a lazy day off. Wade emerged from his bedroom and began frantically tearing apart the kitchen.

“What are you looking for?” you called, turning in your seat.

“My old camera. Have you seen it?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

You thought you hadn’t, at least. You had know idea the camera Logan brought over was Wade’s.

He was pretending to be uninterested in the conversation, hoping his apathy towards the question would absolve him of any suspicion.

You shrugged and returned your attention to the TV. You heard a couple doors open and close before Wade’s voice echoed through the apartment.

“Found it!”

Logan went wide eyed and immediately stood up from the couch. 

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and looked between him and Wade when he came back into the living room.

And then you recognized the camera in his hands.

“Don’t open it, I’ll buy you a new one,” Logan insisted simply, holding out his hand.

“Oh, my god,” you muttered.

Wade's eyes flickered between you both.

“There’s something on here I’m not supposed to see, isn’t there?”

Logan immediately lunged for the camera and Wade sprinted into his bedroom, slamming his door shut and locking it. Logan pounded his fist on the door and tugged the doorknob.

“Open the door, you son of a bitch!”

You buried your face into the fabric of the couch cushion, anticipating the embarrassment of Wade seeing what was still on that camera.

He opened the door after a minute, giant smile plastered on his face.

“Here you go,” he said in a sing song voice as he handed it over.

You sighed in relief, assuming he’d decided to actually abide by your requests. He closed his bedroom door, only speaking again after you heard the lock click.

“Hey, by the way - can i get a copy?”

A/N: I struggled a lil bit w this one just bc of writers block but I hope it lived up to expectations <3 pls interact if you enjoyed!

[livingdreams97]

Kylie Jenner -- "The Babysitter" (Part 1)

Kylie Jenner x fem reader/oc

Summary: Who would have thought that anwering to a babysitter job offer for the summer to a unknown family would let to meeting someone that would move your world.

Words: 4007

NEXT

Masterlist

(It´s not really well written but it´s something)

POV You

Relax Y/n, this is just a job interview. Just a job interview, just a job interview, just a job interview. I repeat myself over and over again inside my head. I pull up my metallic blue 2021 Jeep Wrangler two-door in front of the security fence and roll down the window.

XY: Good morning.- the guy from the booth greets me, with a tablet in his hand and stands next to the window. -Your name and the name of the person you are coming to visit please.- he asks me and I give it to him quickly.

Y/n: Y/n Brown Davis and I don't know who I come to see honestly.- I answer a little embarrassed. -They called me for an interview and they only told me to come here and to go to house number 2432.- I explain watching him nod and type on the screen.

XY: You're on the list.- he confirms and takes a weight off my shoulders. -See if you turn right at the second exit and continue straight for about five minutes, You will find the house right away.- he explains to me and I thank him enormously.

He gets away from the car and opens the fence for me, letting me pass into the urbanization. I follow the instructions he has given me, seeing the mansions on both sides of the street and thinking about which celebrities will live in those houses. 

I know that some of the Kardashian Jenner family live in this neighborhood, but I don't know where their houses are and I don't really care much either. I'm not a big fan of them, I only watch the reality show when it happens to be on and little else. But my older sister is the opposite, she loves the reality and everything that has to do with that family.

I come from a family that has money, enough to live comfortably with some luxury; but not because of an inheritance or something like that. 

My mother is one of the best surgeons in all of England, working both publicly and privately; so she earns good money. My father is an architect and engineer, so he also earns well, but less than my mother. My parents have always told me that I have to win my money, that I can't be depending on them and that I have to start having work experience.

My parents are both English, my mother was born in Manchester and my father in Surrey. Both my older sister Olivia and I were born in the London Hospital. My sister is 25 years old and she is 6 years older than me, since I am just going to turn 19 in two months.

But now I live in Los Angeles, because I won a soccer scholarship at UCLA and I couldn't turn it down. But my first year in architecture is about to end, the summer holidays were approaching and I had decided to get my first summer job. 

I had spent three weeks looking for some job news or something that was appropriate to what I can do and in which I had a minimum of experience.

But since it was my first job, I didn't have much experience in anything. But I saw an offer about being a babysitter and I had experience in that. Maybe not officially through a contract, but when I was 15, 16 and 17 years old I worked to take care of the children of some neighbors for almost three years. So I had some experience, so I sent an email with my resume and information and a week ago they contacted me.

In that email only the date and time of the interview appeared, along with the address and house number. My parents were somewhat insecure when I told them about it, since they usually put a reference name and there was none in mine. 

So they were not very sure and they were a little nervous. But I assured them that because of the area it was in, it would surely be because it was someone important and they didn't wanted to give the address to anyone.

When I get to the house, I stop and look out the window at the beautiful mansion in front of me. I park the car on the sidewalk and get out of it, locking it. Although it's probably not really necessary takin acount the money that tis mansions costs. 

I walk nervously up the long driveway, noticing the flowers and decorations on the driveway.

I stop in front of the door, taking a deep breath and making sure my clothes are okay. I had decided on something simple and casual for the interview. 

Black and white checkered pants, with a black short-sleeved bodysuit and white platform All-stars, with a small black bag for the car, house, wallet and mobile keys.

I take another deep breath and ring the doorbell of the house. I quickly run my hands through my hair, making sure my light brown hair is neat and not completely tousled. The door opens, letting me see a woman in her 30s or so with a friendly smile on her face.

XX: Do you want something? - she asks me kindly.

Y/n: I have an interview here. - I answer a little nervous. -My name is Y/n Brown and I come for the babysitter interview.- I inform and I see how she nods in understanding.

XX: Come in and wait here for a moment please.- she tells me letting me enter the house and closing the door to disappear around the house.

I just look at the marble stairs in front of me, looking at the entire entrance with fascination and taking in the architectural details. 

I get out of my impression, when the same woman comes back and asks me to follow her. I quickly do so and walk almost on his heels and playing with my hands nervously.

XX: Come in.- she says opening a door for me and giving me another smile.

Y/n: Thank you.- I thank you and enter the room, seeing immediately that it is an office.

Kris: Good morning.- she greets me and I am surprised by the person in front of me, but I prevent the surprise from being external. "Please sit down." she offers me, pointing to one of the seats on the other side of where she is sitting at her table.

Y/n: Good morning.- I greet with a kind smile; sitting where she just pointed me out.

Kris: First of all I want to ask you some personal questions, okay? - she asks seriously, but with some kindness and I nod. -In your curriculum it says that you are from London, that you are 18 years old and that you are here for your studies, right? - she asks and I nod again.

Y/n: I was born in London and I study at UCLA with a full scholarship for my sports skills.- I inform her, watching her nod and write something on a piece of paper.

Kris: And what are you studying and why did they give you the scholarship? - she asks me looking at me over her glasses.

Y/n: I study architecture and I have a sports scholarship for soccer.- I answer with a small smile.

Kris: Being English, I need to know if there was any problem with the student visa or something like that.- she tells me and I swallow a bit nervously.

Y/n: There would be no problem, since before coming I studied and got dual nationality: so I have English and American nationality. - I explain, seeing how she points something again and reads something else.

Kris: In your resume you say you've worked three years as a babysitter.- read and I nod. -Because of that do you think you are more qualified than another person to take care of four children? - I wonder and I almost open my eyes surprised; I thought it would be one or two children.

Y/n: I don't think it's so much about being more qualified than someone else, with all the respect in the world. I think it's more of something vocational, if you don't like children, no matter how qualified you are, you will never give everything at work and that is something very important from my point of view. - I begin to answer her. -It is very likely that there are many other people more qualified than a girl of almost 19 years, who has only cared for two children for three years and who does not have an experience of 10 years as surely many other people will.- I say seeing how she stares at me. -But I love children, I enjoy taking care of them and it is a job in which it is never the same every day.- I commented and I see how she writes something more. - In addition to the fact that the number is not so important, if you are able to handle two; You can handle more and in a very effective way with some tricks. - I finish telling her and I see how she nods.

Kris: The vacancy would be for specific dates and on weekdays during the summer.- she informs me and I simply nod. -What availability do you have? - she asks me, bringing the pen closer to the paper.

Y/n: All?- I ask more than I answer. -In a week I finish the semester, the university league ended a week ago and I have the rest of the summer completely free.- I explain and she notes something.

Kris: If we went on vacation, would you be available to come and take care of the children wherever we went?- she ask me and I nod immediately, work and paid holidays? Who would say no to that.

Y/n: If the contract stipulates that then yes,of course I will.- I answer as professionally as I can.

Kris: If that was the case, we would pay for both the flight and the accommodation and more.- she informs me and I just nod without taking my eyes off her. -Okay, I'll discuss it with my daughter and I'll let you know the answer.- she comments getting up and I do too.

Y/n: I'll be attentive to the phone.- I inform her with a smile and shaking the hand that she offers me. -By the way, you have a completely impressive hall from an architectural point of view and it's beautifull.- I praise and she smiles hugely at me.

Kris: Thank you very much.- she thanks me walking towards the main door with me behind. -Thank you for coming and pay attention to the phone.- she tells me as a farewell, once I am at the entrance and out of the house.

Y/n: Thank you, Mrs. Jenner, it has been a pleasure and I'm glad I was able to have this interview. - I say gratefully and say goodbye walking back to my car.

As I walk to my car, I just wait for them to call me so I can call my parents to tell them I've gotten my first job. I'm sure they will be incredibly proud of me as it opens my first job alone and without any connection; like taking care of the neighbours' children.

...................................................................

I had been working as a babysitter for Kim Kardashian for a month, Kris called me the next day and asked me to come to her house again. When I returned the next day, she was waiting for me with Kim in her office and a contract ready for me to sign.

The kids are amazing, North has moments where she acts a bit like a diva and is usually a bit difficult. But you just have to let her have a little tantrum and she immediately listens to you. 

In addition to the fact that the three little ones stick to me, they listen to me right away and are very calm. So I don't have many problems with them.

I'm usually with them from 8 in the morning, while Kim works from her office or goes out to work; until 6,7 or 8 in the afternoon. There are also a few days, when I stay over and Kim can go out or relax with the family without worrying about her children.

I knew everyone in the family except for Kylie, Rob, Kanye, and Caitlyn; since when I have been with the family they had not been and we had not coincided.

But from those I knew, I could tell that many of the things they say about them are completely untrue and that they are incredible people. Today was Saturday and I had the day off, since Kanye has the children this weekend and since they are separated I don't have to work.

I was lying on the bed completely exhausted, because last night after coming home from work I went out with some college friends and I had had a little to drink.

I had come home around 7 in the morning, drunk and with a slice of pizza in my hand. So I had not planned to wake up early or at least not before 4 in the afternoon. 

But my rest is interrupted by my phone. I groan pulling my head out from under the pillow and reach over to pick up my phone from my nightstand. I put it to my ear and it's Kim.

She calls me to inform me that there has been a change in the holidays, the plane would take off on Monday at 8 in the morning and we would go to Mykonos for 1 week. But apparently the trip is early, so the plane takes off in two hours and I have a half hour drive to the airport. I thank her and quickly get out of bed.

I shower, leaving my wet brown hair to air dry and have a quick breakfast in twenty minutes. I put on a set of black underwear, a white Reebok tracksuit, with a short-sleeved top by Ralph Lauren and white Nike air force ones.

I put the clothes and the things I was missing in the suitcase and close it. I pick up the black Vans backpack, putting some tissues, a bottle of water, a headache pill, disinfectant wipes, my glasses, my sunglasses, my wallet, my passport, and a sweatshirt just in case.

I close everything and with my cell phone and house keys I run to my car. I dump all my stuff in the passenger seat, climbing in on the driver's side and putting it into gear right away. I drive as responsibly as possible, but trying to arrive as soon as possible so as not to be late.

When I make it to the airport, I park the car and put on my sunglasses so that my head doesn't hurt even more. I walk as fast as possible to where Kim had told me to, repositioning the strap of my backpack every two seconds and dragging the four-wheeled suitcase.

In the distance I see one of Kim's bodyguards, who signals to me and as soon as I stop next to him, he asks for my suitcase. I give it to him and he asks me to follow him to the private plane that Kim and the kids are on. I climb the stairs to the plane, immediately hearing the screams of the children and making my head hurt.

North: Y/n! - I hear her scream and how she hugs me by the waist.

Y/n: Good morning North.- I greet her, returning the hug as best I can due to the height.

North: Come play with us.- she says pulling my hand down the aisle of the plane.

Kim: Northie leaves Y/n alone for a few seconds and sit down, the plane will take off right away.- she tells her daughter, who immediately complains and starts a tantrum.

Y/n: Pay attention to your mother, the sooner you sit down the sooner we'll take off and the sooner we can get up to play.- I tell her and like lightning she sits in one of the seats.

I help Kim by getting the kids into the seats and making sure they're strapped in. I sit to the right of Chicago and Saint, while North sits across from Kim and Pslam sits on her mother's lap.

Kim: I'm sorry I called you and that you won't have yuor free weekend.- she comments and as I pay attention to her.

Y/n: It's okay, last-minute changes happen and it's common.- I answer with a smile, taking a pill from my backpack and drinking it with water.

Kim: Fun night?- she questions me with some interest.

During this last month, Kim has been very kind and we have a good personal relationship. She is an incredible person and since she is divorcing Kanye spends more time alone at home and I'm there. So we talk a lot and we are quite confident.

Y/n: Quite a lot.- I answer with a little laugh. - I arrived around 7 in the morning and I had barely fallen asleep when you called me.- I commented with a small smile, looking at the little ones and then at her again.

Kim: I'm really sorry.- she apologizes again, but I make a gesture with my hand and dismiss it as important. -Kanye has canceled his weekend, so my mother thought it would be better to bring it forward so the kids don't notice it.- she tells me and I nod in understanding.

Y/n: It doesn't bother me at all.- I assure her, since she has a lot on her and I don't want to make her think that it has bothered me or something, and feel guilty about it.

A few seconds later I start to entertain Saint and Chicago who call me, so they don't start complaining and give me a terrible headache. Five minutes later, a little girl runs into the plane and approaches Chicago.

Kim: Stormi, what are you doing? - she asks the girl and I already know whose name it is.

Kylie: Mom has changed planes for us.- I hear how someone responds, but I am only able to help the girl get on with her cousins and I hear how they talk without any sense, making Saint look at me begging.

I listen as the grown girls talk quietly in the background. I stretch out my arms to Saint and sit him on my lap, watching how the little ones fit better and I help Stormi put on her seatbelt.

Kim: And this is Y/n, the babysitter we'll have in the summer.- I hear how she says and as soon as I hear my name I pay attention to the adults. -Y/n this is the youngest of all, Kylie Jenner.- she introduces us and I get up with Saint in my arms and stretch out my hand towards her.

Y/n: A pleasure.- I greet and she shakes my hand with a small smile.

Kylie: So you're the amazing new babysitter for Kim.- she says when we separate our hands and I take the opportunity to greet Kris with a little hug.

Y/n: I think so.- I say with a small smile, sitting back in the chair and tying Saint and me with my seatbelt.

Kim: It's a shame that it's only mine during the summer.- she comments and I look at her curiously.

Kylie: And why is that? - she asks sitting in front of me and tying her own belt.

Kim: Because she knows how to control the tantrums of that onw over there.- she responds pointing to her eldest daughter.

North: Hey that's very rude.- she tells his mother looking at her badly. "I don't throw tantrums and I find it ridiculous that..." she starts to shout and I clear my throat making her shut up inmediatelly.

Kim: See, not even I have achieved that since she was born.- she says pointing to what just happened.

Kris: You did well to listen to me honey.- she says to her daughter sitting on my right side, across the aisle and in front of Kim.

The adults quickly change the conversation, as soon as it is safe to remove the seat belts me and the children go to the back to play. So I start playing with everyone, being very careful with Pslam since he is still small and can do damage.

Kylie POV

I stare at the girl in the back with my nephews and daughter, as I process what just happened with my niece. About how just by clearing her throat, North has stopped complaining to her mother and immediately shut up.

Kylie: How the hell did she made it? - I ask completely impressed.

Kim: I don't even know.- she answers looking at her children with a smile. -But I don't know what I'm going to do without her when the summer ends.- she tells me and I look at her confused.

Kylie: And why is that? - I ask curiously.

Kim: Because she's covering the summer shift and Nicole and Sara will come back to work in September.- she answers me with a little grimace. -Besides that she has to go back to university.- I commented and I looked at her surprised.

Kylie: University?- I ask with surprise, since she seems young but I didn't expect her to go to college yet.

Kris: Yes, honey.- she answers me with a small laugh. -She studies architecture.- she tells me and I nod processing the information.

Kylie: But how old is she, because I thought she would be 16 or 17.- I comment and they both laugh.

Kris: She's 19 and this September she'll start her second year of architecture.- she says and I look back at the incredibly attractive girl.

Kim: In addition to the fact that she is in the women's soccer team of her college and has a full scholarship for it. - she informed me and I nod, without stopping looking at the girl and paying attention to every possible detail of her.

Kylie: I'm impressed.- I comment sincerely.

Kim: Well, you will be even more so during the trip, because when you see how she is with the kids and how they listen to her immediately.- she comments and I look at her for a few seconds.

My gaze turns to Y/n, paying attention to the clear abs of her body that the t-shirt exposes and the perfection of her face. How her wavy brown hair falls over her shoulders and back. Her sharp jawline is exposed when she pulls her hair into a high ponytail, exposing her strong, feminine jawline.

I detail her for the rest of the flight, trying to hide it as much as possible and prevent my mother and sister from noticing. I don't want my sisters to find out that i'm checking out Y/n and spend the rest of the trip laughing at me for it. 

So I try to be discreet while I look at her, feeling a certain pull in my stomach when I see her bite her lip or run her tongue over her thin but perfect and plump lips.

Those lips that call you to savor them and kiss them until your lips are sore. To kiss them until you feel like you'll faint from lack of air, until you feel like your lips will droop and you lose the feeling of reality.

I have never felt so attracted to a woman as i am right now. Yes, I am capable of appreciating the beauty of a woman, in a platonic and non-sexual or romantic way. But I have to admit that she would made me do anything for her and not complain one bit. 

In addition to my clear attraction to her, I haven't had sex for a long time and when I say a lot, I mean a lot. So just by seeing her body and some of her gestures I'm already starting to get turned on.

[bishopsbeloved]

the art of falling in love (part five)

natasha romanoff x fem reader

best friend!yelena belova, aroace!yelena belova, internalised homophobia, found family trope, coming of age, angst, fluff (eventual happy ending)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five (16.3k words) | epilogue

read this fic on ao3!

Death was first explained to you and Yelena when you were six; Yelena’s favourite of her mother’s pigs passed away, and you were both called in from playing outside to be sat down gravely.

“Girls… Wilbur the piggy has, ah, passed away,” Alexi told you. You stared back at him blankly.

“Do you know what that means?” added Melina more gently.

“Uh… Peter from class said his mom and dad passed away,” Yelena offered after a few moments. “And it means that, like, he can’t see them ever again, so he lives with his aunt now.”

“Yes!” said Alexi enthusiastically, before catching himself and adding in a much more solemn tone, “I mean, ah, yes… very sad. Not good.”

Melina looked at him sternly and he fell silent. “You are right, Yelena. When someone passes away, it means they are no longer with us.”

“Like when you go to the store?”

“No. When I go to the store I am always coming back, да? Passing away is permanent, and it means you never see them again.”

“Oh. But I like Wilbur,” said Yelena sadly, and you nodded in agreement.

“That is what makes life all the more precious,” Melina told you gently. “You never know when someone may pass away — only that everybody will, someday. So you must enjoy the time you have with them, my darlings, and never take it for granted.”

As the years went on and the two of you began to understand what death actually means, that first introduction to it became somewhat of a running joke between you and Yelena (because how else can humans deal with such a terrifying concept as death? You can choose to either laugh or cry, and Yelena will always choose to laugh); the idea of someone passing away will often be referred to as going to the store. For example, Alexi is probably the sole man responsible for the entirety of Ohio state’s roadkill — neither you nor Yelena can remember a car journey with him in the wheel during which some unfortunate creature has not stumbled into his path and suffered fatally for that mistake. Every time it happens, without fail, Yelena will turn around eagerly in her seat or poke her head out of the window and assess the damage before gravely announcing, “That one is definitely not coming back from store.”

It’s a euphemism that can be used in any situation — and often is, actually. Whenever the TV signal packs up (as it often does in such a rural town as your own) and the Kardashians begin to cut out awkwardly, Yelena will throw down the remote and shout in frustration “Ma! The fork thingy on the roof has gone store again,” and Melina will know exactly what she means. Or whenever your history teacher Mr Fury hobbles into class, who is so old he looks like he’s witnessed half the events he teaches you, Yelena will nudge you and whisper “he is close to store’s doorstep now, eh?” Et cetera, et cetera. The phrase gets used often.

You feel silly for your mind wandering to those words, given the circumstances. But all you can think of right now is your overwhelming hopes and prayers that Liho has not gone to the store — and that neither has your bond with Yelena. As for Natasha… well, recent times have been a cruel wake-up call.

It’s been a few hours since Melina left with the cat, and the only text you’ve gotten from her since then says cat in surgery now. Yelena has barricaded herself in your shared room — her room now, you think miserably to yourself. You have never, ever seen her so upset, not in your whole life. You don’t think you’ve ever even argued with her, outside of your usual half-hearted play wrestles. But now she’s shouted at you through your thick heavy door, a solid wall between you, putting miles between the two of you but still not enough distance to lessen the brutality of the words she hurls at you from the other side of it. Words you can’t think of for too long or tears will begin to brim in your eyes all over again. Words which you know you deserve, but ones you never thought you’d hear your best friend say to you.

Now you sit uncomfortably stiff on the couch, feeling like a stranger in the home you’ve grown up in, the silence threatening to suffocate you. You feel almost like a prisoner in your body, unable to move as you relieve the last few hours over and over in your head. There’s no doubt in your mind that Yelena is right. You are an awful person. If you weren’t, if you were better, maybe Natasha would still want you, instead of casting you aside once you began to bore her. Maybe if you were better you’d have been sensible or strong enough to not sneak around with her at all. But you’re not, and now you’ve broken apart a family you weren’t even worthy of in the first place.

Natasha is sat in the armchair opposite you, legs curled beneath her, nursing her bloody nose. Her gaze has been fixed on you for the indeterminable amount of time you’ve both been sat here, but you are too exhausted to care. For once, you have much, much bigger problems than her feelings.

Eventually, she speaks, more subdued than usual. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Your voice doesn’t sound like yours. It’s somewhere else, someone else’s, far away.

“For…” She hesitates. Like there’s something she doesn’t want to say out loud. “For not, uh. For treating you badly.”

Well, that’s not really what you expected her to say.

Your silence prompts her to flounder further. “I just— I don’t, well, I can’t really explain a lot, but I— I know I messed up. You deserved better. And I’m sorry.”

And you’re so done with her, and so little of yourself is left now that you simply stand up and walk away.

Natasha doesn’t even call after you, just kind of makes this sad and defeated little noise that makes your heart hurt. You know it would just ache even more if you turned around again, though. So you don’t. You walk the hall for a few aimless moments before your feet carry you to the only person currently home who you still have a dependable relationship with — Alexi.

His workshop, as he calls it, is adjoined to the kitchen; a tiny wooden door which he has to bend himself double to fit through, leading to the garage. This has been his space for as long as you can remember. You have no idea how he moves with such ease through it when it’s like a maze to you — huge chunks of greasy half-repaired machinery everywhere, cluttered workbenches and racks of tools and shelves of liquids labelled in his indecipherable Russian scrawl. He often has the tiny tin portable perched on a shelf squeaking out radio shows in his mothertongue which he guffaws merrily at, but as you enter now the room is peacefully quiet, save for Alexi’s disjointed hums of a thousand songs in one and the little chink noises the piece of metal he’s working on makes every time he hits it, slowly bending it into shape.

“Ah, привет! Good evening, daughter,” he says cheerfully, without even turning around as you creep up barefoot behind him. He doesn’t say anything more, and neither do you, for a while; you opt to simply sink down onto one of the wooden stools littered about the place and watch Alexi absently while he works. This doesn’t faze him at all. On the occasions where Yelena was busy without you as a kid, you would do this very thing. Alexi would simply chuckle at you and ruffle your hair with a large bearish hand, oftentimes leaving behind little smudges of black motor oil in it. You’re still in your prom outfit, though, with your hair done up intricately, so tonight he stops himself in time.

“Do you think Liho will be okay?” you ask after a while, in a very small voice.

“Oh, да,” he replies, without hesitation. Even with his back to you as he tinkers busily you can hear the sincerity in his tone. “Yes, yes. Think of what that kitty has been through already, eh? When you found him he was doing worse than that. He is, uh, tough meat. A fighter.”

Seeing Alexi so placid and unshaken in the face of tonight’s events is strangely calming and you nod, soothed by his words, before another thought strikes you. “Oh… but the vet bills.”

Alexi lets out a low but not unkind laugh. “Ah, не будь глупым, you worry so much. We will figure those out. Melina is a sly fox, has money tucked away in hidey-holes, eh?”

“But— I mean —” You twitch uncomfortably, and Alexi seems to finally cotton onto what it is that you’re really worried about. He sets down his tools with his usual gentleness, which never fails to look foreign on such a giant of a man, and turns to look at you.

“You are member of this family,” he tells you. “No matter what Yelena say. She is angry, sure, but it will blow over, eh? You love the silly little fur man, and we do too. So if these bills will help him of course we will pay it. There is no need for worry.”

“But I ruined everything,” you say quietly.

He laughs again. “Nonsense. You have not ruined any of the things, голубка.”

“But… your date night. And— Natasha,” you hiccup.

“We have date nights all the time, подсолнух, there will be others. And Natasha… well, me and your mama are knowing this for long time. Yelena will be coming round also, eventually. We will figure this all out, we are a family. She is your sister. All of the things will be okay. None of them are ruined.”

And you can’t help but cry at that, at his earnest sincerity, his certainty that things will work out — and because you love him, and he is your family. You tell him so through choked sobs, and he just looks at you softly before wrapping you into a petrol-scented bear hug, prom outfit be damned.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe everything will be okay.

Yelena sinks into another episode over the following days. She does nothing much but sit, a vacant look in her eyes, devoid of any feeling, and stare for hours at a time as though seeing something that the rest of you cannot. She has no words left to give, and drifts around on autopilot, only performing basic functional tasks when prompted to — as if they’re an afterthought. Seeing her like this wracks you with guilt in a way none of her episodes have before, because for the first time you know with a crushing certainty that this is because of you. You offer countless times to return to your parents’ house across the road, the residents of which you haven’t conversed with in months, but Alexi and Melina dismiss this as if it’s the silliest idea in the world.

“You are family,” Melina tells you firmly. “Fights happen, да? You stay.”

Even if you’re still welcome in the house you’re certainly not welcome in your usual room. Natasha offers to put you up in hers but drops this very quickly after the look that you give her, so instead a section of the loft is cleared for you. You and Alexi spend a merry Sunday together in his workshop assembling a bedframe for your new space, only to discover once you’ve made it upstairs that it’s actually too large to fit through the attic hatch, so you have to take it to bits to get it up there and then rebuild it all over again. (It doesn’t really matter though, because Alexi is so bemused by the whole thing and his own oversights that it’s impossible to be frustrated at the setback. He just grins so goofily.) When Yelena is in the shower you sneak back into her room to gather as many of your belongings as you can and begin to turn the little space into yours. Melina brings home some fairy lights from the store, you order some posters online and within a week or so you’ve organised yourself a very cozy nest amongst the mess of the loft.

Even now you’ve moved in, over half of the room is still piled high with boxes of various things and piles of junk and the distinct, cloth-draped, dust-gathering shapes of Alexi’s abandoned projects (which he insists on keeping on the basis that he might need them someday, much to Melina’s theatrical chagrin). The various artefacts throughout the room create a kind of ever-changing maze, and you remember playing up here with Yelena when the two of you were kids and it was too cold to play outside — for you, anyway, being someone who’s grown up in a relatively warm American state. To this day Yelena often scorns you for your inability to tolerate any kind of cold, and reminds you of the climates the rest of the family has lived in.

Thinking of her makes your heart involuntarily twinge, and you wince, standing from your perch on the end of your new bed in the vain hopes of shaking it off. As you do so something in the opposite corner of the room catches your eye; the neat pile of scrapbooks Melina worked on for years when you were kids. “I’m going full American mama,” she would quip, spending hours of an evening painstakingly prettying the pages laden with pictures that Alexi had taken throughout the day. You find yourself warmed by these memories, and drift over to the pile of books, settling before it. The newest scrapbooks are naturally at the top, so you shuffle through the pile until you reach the very first scrapbook Mama Melina ever made, which begins the day Yelena came home. You settle down comfortably on the floor, cross-legged like you’re a kid again, and begin to flip through its pages; the very first are adorned with pictures of Melina and Alexi in their youth, and then on their wedding day. After that is the day Yelena came home, absolutely unfazed by this strange new country and its drawling people. Every single photo has the date it was taken written beneath it in perfect cursive, and through the timeline shown you can see that it was barely two weeks into Yelena’s residency here before you and her properly met, and became firm friends. Things progress like that for two years, from when you were five until when you were seven; regular entries are made in the scrapbooks documenting road trips and school plays and lost teeth, all of which you smile upon fondly.

Halfway through the third scrapbook, Natasha comes home. You recognise one of the many pictures documenting this milestone as one that hangs large and framed with pride downstairs above the fire; a stunned, still blue-haired Natalia swathed in thermals, huddled in the corner of Alexi’s rickety old fighter jet on the journey back from the motherland, beaming widely up at whoever’s taking the photo. Despite the fact that you see it every day, seeing it alongside so many others in which she’s so bewildered but so, so happy makes your heart feel so strongly that you have to flip ahead.

You pore over the pages of the main scrapbooks with interest for a while longer, until the main timeline ends and divulges into you, Yelena and Natasha each having your own dedicated scrapbooks. You have no interest in studying your own baby photos, and given all that’s going on reliving Yelena’s would be unbearable right now, so instead you find yourself picking up Natasha’s, and pushing the others aside.

Seeing her grow up before your eyes like this is surreal. In reality you were by her side every day, and most of these changes happen so gradually that you barely even noticed them, but here are immortalised stills from throughout the years which show how she’s grown. When she first came home she hadn’t had her growth spurt yet, and still had her gentle Russian lilt which the rest of her family retains to this day. As she starts attending public school and socialising with her peers you can see that something changes very hastily within her; a light kind of fades from her eyes. The blue is bleached from her hair, and as the red fades back in its place she seems to fade a little too — into the quiet, observant Natasha that you know today. She doesn’t seem unhappy, as such, but… uncertain, and it dredges up a kind of sadness in your chest that forces you to push the book away, lest the tears in your eyes follow through with their threat to overspill.

You’ve always seen Natasha as someone so secure and sure of herself — so much so that she doesn’t feel the need to speak over anyone else in the room in order to get her opinions across. When she does speak it’s usually a quick, cutting remark that earns laughs and leaves everyone eager to hear more out of her. When she walks into a room heads turn to look at her, no matter where she goes. She knows that. She’s someone worth paying attention to. It’s never occurred to you, not once in your life, that her behaviours aren’t the result of something different. But looking at these pictures has stirred up something in you which you can’t quite describe. A deep sadness at the fact that you’ve probably never known her at all, aside from the parts of the real her that have slipped through the cracks; her Russian accent and sleepy kisses first thing in the morning, her goodnight texts, the way she doesn’t need to ask your order at drive-thrus or coffee shops, the notes she’d leave under your pillow. That’s Natasha. Not whoever this is who’s pushed you away. Not this girl who has bleached the childhood from her hair and taught herself how to be from another place.

You pile the scrapbooks back in the neat and tidy order in which you found them and crawl back to your bed, flopping into it, utterly emotionally exhausted by this trip down memory lane. You think it’s dark outside… you’re certainly tired enough to rest now, anyway, and you do; drifting in and out of an uneasy slumber, visited by vague and twisted recollections from your childhood which disappear upon your waking again, before you can grasp them properly, like the sand of your youth slipping through your fingers.

Mama Melina is a woman of science. She’s always considered herself a grounded person. She doesn’t concern herself with what she doesn’t understand, or care for (namely whatever she cannot see for certain with her own two eyes) to the extent that this is the path her career has taken, and is now what feeds her children. She is, objectively, an intellectual woman. Her analytical methods of thinking have led to scientific breakthroughs in her area of expertise, and she is renowned as an expert at her job. She did not reach this point through belief in the spiritual, or abstract. Hell, being raised in an orphanage herself, she didn’t even really believe in true romantic love until Alexi bore his whole earnest heart to her.

One day, when you were young, you came home from school and, with frightening nonchalance, came home and asked if one of your classmates had been correct in saying that people who kissed others of the same gender were hell-headed sinners. Melina abruptly halted her mundane household task and sat you down, taking one of your hands in hers.

“Sin is a fairytale,” she told you, as delicately as she could. “Nobody knows for certain whether sin or God or heaven or hell are real. To believe that is a choice, a leap of faith which certain people make. But all we know for certain is what’s here now, да? Like I am real, you are real,” she cupped your little face between her warm hands and squeezed gently, making you wrinkle your nose and wriggle happily, “Baba and Yelena are real. But sin is thing you choose to believe in. It is made up stories to make us feel better about death but it does not matter, малыш. What matters is what we do now, when we are alive, not what we do to secure a place in an afterlife that might not exist, eh? We are kind to each other now while we live because we know it to be true that we’re alive. To tell someone else who to kiss was wrong and unkind of that boy at school. Worry about the afterlife once you get there, да? If you want to kiss girls, kiss girls. No one who is kind or worth your time will care.”

She kissed the top of your head before standing back up and returning to her cleaning. No more words were exchanged on the prospect, but from that day onward it has appeared to be common knowledge in the household that you like girls, and that Melina is not a fan of religion justifying bigotry.

In all honesty, she is not a fan of anything that’s not an irrefutable truth. Science is her preferred method of explanation for any problem that may occur. But as her relationship with Alexi has blossomed, and then in turn the ones she shares with her daughters too, she’s learned that facts and feelings do not have to be mutually exclusive. Some of the complexities of the human mind are far beyond her understanding, or indeed any of us — and yet this is a truth which ought to be embraced, not feared. The greatest joys in Melina’s life are its mysteries.

And so Mama Melina has never questioned the dynamic you and Natasha share; at least to her, it’s seemed crystal clear since day one that the two of you harbour affections for one another — admittedly for reasons beyond her comprehension, but it’s nonetheless undeniable to anyone who knows you like she does. She’s watched you grow all of your lives, delicately inching closer to one another like two flowers craning their necks to reach the sun. Melina long ago accepted she’ll never in this lifetime know what higher power reigns as a puppeteer over her, or understand the complexities of love, but she knows better than to pretend as if some things in this world aren’t inexplicably and cosmically connected. You and Natasha only prove this point. If she looks hard enough, Melina can see the red thread that runs from your body to her daughter’s.

Alexi, by far the romantic, wholeheartedly agrees with her, which only furthers Melina’s convictions (he would know better than her, she reasons) — although admittedly the events of the last few months have blindsided the both of them. Melina appears to be more concerned by it than her husband, though; so much so that one night she actually sits him down to ask if he even knows what’s going on, and why there’s this big gaping gulf between her daughters, tearing her family apart.

Alexi just guffaws, so full of mirth that Melina is startled. “Ah Боже мой, my love. Do not be silly, I would have to be blind to miss those daggers over dinner, no? No, do not worry, I’m understand. But love is not easy, ah? Its course has never run so smooth. Remember when I first asked out you? You were so… skittish, like little kitten, for weeks,” he recalls with shining eyes. “And look where we ended up now, ah? These are silly babies. They’ll make mistakes. They need the time that you did.”

His words soothe her, in the way that they always do. She relaxes into his comforting embrace with the knowledge that even if she’s the intellectual (and financial) breadwinner in this relationship, Alexi always knows what to say in the face of the heart’s unpredictability. Maybe he is right. Maybe everyone just needs some time.

So, despite her doubts, time is what Melina gives.

Two weeks after that conversation, Liho comes home. His fur is patchy where it’s been shorn off and started to grow back again, and one of his legs is still bound tightly, but he’s back and he’s yours. He leaps happily into your arms when he sees you (despite the yelp of alarm Melina makes) and it’s like he never left. Yelena comes the closest to you that she’s been in weeks to pet his head while he’s curled up against your chest, and she even allows a smile to escape. You can’t help but smile back, like the beginning of spring after a long harsh winter, hope blossoming in your chest once again.

In the time that it’s taken him to come home, other things have happened too. Natasha’s nose, displaced by the punch Yelena successfully laid on her, heals quickly. Your relationship does not. Something unspoken festers between the two of you, hardening and shrinking and blackening into a sickening nothingness. You can’t look at her now without the taste of something bitter filling your mouth — and yet that boiling hot liquid rage still fills your chest when you think of her with someone else. How is it possible to love someone so much but hate them at the same time? You wish, more than anything, that none of this happened. You wish she would just let you love her without having to ruin it for the both of you.

It’s such an indescribably lonely feeling that the two of you are like this now, when only a short time ago the two of you bore open hearts to one another — well, you gave yours to Natasha, anyway. The more you think about it the less of her you have ever known. She’s a stranger to you. Quite a few times since prom night she’s tried to speak to you — offering another half-assed apology, no doubt — but you’ve only ever shut her down. What is there left to say? Nothing that you want to hear, for sure.

(And maybe the things that still hang heavy in the air between you are better left unsaid.)

A few days after Liho comes home you’re laid on your bed in the attic, with your baby boy himself curled comfortably on your chest, purring away merrily as you scratch at his head. There’s some soft music on in the background but neither of you are really doing much. You’re just trying to enjoy his company, (and he’s evidently enjoying yours,) now that you know not to take it for granted.

The scare you’ve had with him has shifted your perspective on a lot, actually — it’s been a rude but much-needed wake up call. Yelena, just like Liho, is your family, and you want to make up with her. Who knows how long either of you have left, or what might happen?

Yes, you absolutely want to be her sister again. You’re just not sure where to even start.

The knock that comes at your door is unexpected, though, and only more unexpected when you see who your mystery visitor actually is. Yelena stands in your doorway, eyes fixed on Liho on your chest. He mews happily when he sees her.

“Кот,” she says hoarsely, holding out her arms and making grabby hands. You blink, stunned for a moment at the fact that she is talking at all, let alone talking to you. This would usually be a good sign, one that she’s coming back into herself, but these naturally are unprecedented circumstances, and you can’t really be certain what anything means anymore.

Yelena steps forward, jerking you out of your trance; you shoot to your feet and kiss Liho on the forehead before holding him out to her with your hands beneath his armpits so that his legs dangle underneath him, rendering him comically long and thin. Lena scoops him up and curls him against her chest; he purrs contentedly and her eyes crinkle in quiet gratitude before she leaves, humming her song to herself.

You almost call out to her, but your body freezes. The door closes behind her you scold yourself for not reaching out, for trying to close this rift between you, but maybe you’ve not given her long enough yet.

What Yelena needs is time, you know. Her whole world has been turned upside down and she has to rebuild it piece by piece. But how much time is enough?

Well, as it turns out, you won’t have to wait much longer.

It’s the last week of school, just over five weeks now since your catastrophic prom night, and you’ve just walked out of your last final. Sam Wilson is waiting for you outside the doors with your favourite flavour of popsicle in his hand, and is already busily consuming his own. When he spots you he waves a broad hand merrily, and you make your way over to him.

“I’m sure you aced it, squirt,” he says before you can even open your mouth, and offers you the popsicle. Unfortunately you’re all too familiar to Ohio’s stifling summer air, making every thought or movement damp and groggy. You accept it gratefully.

Your core friendship group, which you’ve been in for years now, has been pretty turbulent since things went down between you and Yelena. Pairing that with finals and early graduations, you can feel a permanent shift occurring, and it’s frightening. Everyone’s still making  effort to maintain contact with you, but this change on top of everything else has you feeling like you’re drowning when you think too long about it.  It seems like you never know what are the golden days until they’re gone. (You got twelve golden years with Yelena, but is that where it ends? Will she ever tolerate your presence in her life again?)

Someone who you couldn’t be more grateful for throughout all of this is Sam. One day not long after everything happened you came to him crying, and confessed everything. He patted your back with an aura of awkward concern until your sobs subsided, at which point all he had to offer was, “Huh. Well, I guess that explains why prom night went to shit.”

You can’t help but admire the way that he takes everything in his stride. Nothing fazes him. It’s welcome after spending so long around Natasha, who’s constantly on edge, worried someone else might see her with you. Sam is so unbothered, just being in his presence is calming. He’s become a good and valued friend to you.

“That was your last final,” he reminds you, bringing you back to the present moment. “You’re free now for the whole summer.”

“Oh fuck yeah, man,” you say as the realisation dawns on you.

“How’d you want to celebrate?”

You look up at him and a toothy grin takes root on his face as he realises what you’re about to say.

“Arcade,” you say and he nods fervently in agreement. In recent times you’ve become its most loyal patrons; you retreat there often after classes, whether it’s to recuperate from a bad day or celebrate a good one. Today, thankfully, appears to be the latter.

“Arcade,” he repeats happily, and the two of you amble off out of the school gates and down the hill toward the centre of town, where the Boulevard housing the arcade is located. You chat happily for a little while, about your plans for the summer and what you might do together.

“And, uh… any updates on your… anything?” he asks delicately. It’s a vague question but of course you know what he means.

“Not really.” You deflate a little. “I’m not sure Lena wants me around anymore, to be honest.”

“I’m sure she does,” Sam consoles with a startling certainty. “Seriously. What about Natasha?”

You just shake your head. “I don’t want to… I can’t. Not until Lena…”

“Gives you the okay,” he nods understandingly.

“Yeah, I guess. But until she’s sorry, too. She was really mean,” you say quietly.

“Yeah, I get that. It’ll be okay, man.”

You’re not so sure about that, but before you can express this you cross the road and the two of you have reached the arcade, where your troubles are promptly forgotten.

Sam’s words are very quickly proven correct, though — within only a few hours. You arrive home from your arcade trip with some silly winnings tucked under your arm and a smile on your face. It is Friday night, date night for Melina and Alexi, so a car is missing from the driveway and the kitchen is empty as you enter.

Perfect, you think to yourself, and begin to fix yourself some food. These days you’re very careful not to venture into the communal areas of the house unless you’re sure you won’t be treading on anyone else’s toes. You kind of feel like a burden as it is — you’re not a proper part of this family anyway, not in the way that everyone else is — and you don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable in their own home. So you’ve moved bedrooms and now you meticulously strategise what times you’ll make an expedition down to the kitchen. (Sometimes, when you’ve not had a chance to eat yet, you’ll open your bedroom door to a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of you. Everyone in the house denies knowledge when asked but you have your suspicions of who’s behind it.)

Sometimes you think about moving back to the place where you were born, but you’re not sure if you could stomach that. That feels like a forever choice. There’s no going back from that.

Liho pads up to you, excited that you’re home and even more excited that you’re making food. Unable to help yourself, you indulge him with some chin scratches and scraps. Life’s too short, you say. Why shouldn’t you make a fuss of your boy?

He winds himself around your legs contentedly while you cook. It is just you and him and school has finished and you have the whole summer to do what you want, and you are cooking, and for the first time in a while you are able to shut off and experience a moment of complete peace.

Naturally, with the trajectory of your life at the minute, this peace does not last long.

“Is Sam Wilson your new best friend?” says a cool voice behind you. You actually yelp in alarm, and very ungracefully fumble with the piping hot utensils you’re using, burning your hand in the process. Liho hisses, and you do too, making a beeline for the sink.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” you mutter half-heartedly. Yelena, now moving to stand fully in the light, just makes a noise in the back of her throat as she opens the cupboard above your head and reaches for the first-aid kit. Her face is carefully unbothered.

“I only asked a question,” she says, moving your food off of the heat. Liho claws at your ankles worriedly. You struggle to process Yelena’s words, much less the fact that she is talking to you. Did you blink and miss a chapter?

“Uh,” you rub at the back of your neck with your hand not under running water, “n-no. No, he’s not my new best friend. I don’t,” your voice drops, and you look away, “I don’t think I have one anymore.”

“You do,” she informs you matter-of-factly, hopping up onto the counter beside you and swinging her legs while you continue to bathe your hand. “If you still want one. But she is very mad at you.”

Your voice catches in your throat.

“She does love you,” Lena continues, “but she is wondering why you did things in the way you did.”

There’s a moment of quiet. You gather your thoughts. You weren’t expecting to have this talk tonight.

“I was scared,” you tell her.

“Of what?”

“Of,” you gesture between the two of you, “this. Of making things bad. I always figured it would be like a,” you tilt your head back to keep from crying, because now would be a stupid time to cry, “a stupid schoolgirl crush, you know? She never even spoke to me, I was just her little sister’s dumb best friend, but then things happened and it was so fast and I was so scared. And I wanted to tell you but she… didn’t. She only wanted me when no one else could see. I guess I hoped that she would — come around, eventually, and then I wouldn’t be lying anymore.” You’re heaving with the effort to not cry. “I was wrong.”

“All this time the mystery girl was treating you like shit, you could have told me who it was,” Yelena implores. “I love my sister but she makes me sad also. She can be a dick, absolutely. She’s the worst. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“She’s your family,” you choke. “I couldn’t cause a— a rift or a problem like that. And what if you believed her over me? And it kept getting worse, and —”

“Сестра,” she leans over, cupping your damp face between her hands and forcing you to look at her, “I would always believe you. Always. Never before have you given reason to not.”

You nod tearfully, and she lets go. The only noise is the running water for a few moments.

“That is probably long enough under tap,” Lena murmurs, turning it off and taking your injured hand in her lap. Opening the first aid kit, she begins to dress the burn. “I am sorry for making you jump.”

“I am sorry for everything else,” you reply honestly. “I was stupid.”

“Yes,” she agrees bluntly. Then, “Natalia was stupider.” When you look up in open surprise, she rolls her eyes. “Close your mouth, you will catch flies. Of course she was stupid, she has fumbled so hard. You,” she pinches your cheek affectionately, “are a catch. I am not even into all of this, but if I was a dater we would be together and I would treat you like four million times better than she does.”

“You already do,” you say quietly, looking down at your hand in her lap as she continues to bandage it.

“Oh absolutely, I am the best.”

Another, much longer, pause. She finishes wrapping your hand, and pats it three times to notify you that she’s done, the exact same way that Mama Melina does. The action makes your heart swell and eyes fill with unexpected tears.

“Do you know why I was so upset by all of it?” she asks unexpectedly. You blink in surprise. This feels like a trick question.

“Because… I lied?”

“Because you picked Natasha over me,” she tells you.

“No I didn’t— what?”

“Yes, you did,” she says, and she’s a little choked all of a sudden. “All of my life Natasha has been the one who everyone looks at first. She is the special one. You are the only one I had first, who was mine. My близнец. And then I find out that for months you have been lying and picking her over me instead. When she is mean, she is so mean sometimes, yes I love her but she is not much like when we were kids anymore, she is so mean. But everyone likes her more than me. Even you.” She turns away.

“No, no I don’t,” you rush to her side, unable to help it now, scooping her close to you. “No I don’t. I was wrong, and I’m sorry. It was stupid to think she’d ever love me, I shouldn’t have— and I shouldn’t have left you out of it. I think I was trying to protect you? I don’t know. You’re always the one to protect me and punch everyone else, I think I was trying to stop you from getting hurt. And her? But it was dumb. Very dumb.”

“Very, very dumb,” Yelena agrees.

“The dumbest.”

“You have broken world record, кролик.”

You laugh a little tearfully, and while Yelena’s arms are wrapped around you she feels it throughout her body. She revels in the feeling of you holding her and loving her again, after the longest time.

“So we are back from the store?” she asks hopefully after a moment. It takes you a moment to process what she means.

“Oh,” you laugh, “we were never there. You will always be my favourite person, Yelena Belova-Shostakov.”

“Okay.” She exhales in relief. “Good. Just, because — well, you know, we have not spoke in so long and you didn’t think you had a best friend, and—”

“No— what? No,” you frown, “that was me giving you space to process and heal. I wasn’t sure you’d want me back,” you laugh. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I promise.”

“I will always want you back,” she says in a small, content voice. “I will always want you home. With me. Not at store.”

“Not at the store,” you repeat.

And just like that, you have your best friend again.

One familial bond repaired doesn’t mean all of them, though — and Yelena’s relationship with her sister has been patchy recently, to put it mildly. In your eyes it’s a plus that they haven’t outright fistfought in the way that they absolutely would if they were any younger, but Mama Melina doesn’t seem to see things that way.

A few days after you and Yelena make up, the two of you along with your parents are sat around the dinner table. At the very least Melina is able to fuss over her twins again, and Alexi is able to once again boom “here comes trouble” whenever the two of you enter a room together. They both take great pleasure in it,  much to Yelena’s entertainment and your endearment. You love your parents.

The conversation halts when the front door slams, though. Natasha appears in the kitchen doorway for a second before processing the scene in front of her and slowly backing away, back out of sight.

“What is this about?” Alexi calls after her through a mouthful of food. “Come eat, love.”

There is no response, only footsteps on the stairs.

“Our daughters hate each other,” Melina sighs heavily. When you and Yelena look up at her, she clarifies, “no, not you two. You and Natasha.” She pinches Lena’s cheek.

“We do not hate each other,” Yelena says placidly, much to everyone’s surprise. “I am just angry at her. We will be fine.”

Natasha, who is still within earshot at the top of the stairs, feels her heart skip a beat at this and thinks to herself that just maybe Yelena is ready to be receptive to her attempts at reconnection. Her only issue is she has no idea how to facilitate it. She’s done all the things she can think of, aside from straight up cornering her younger sister — she leaves offerings of food at her door and texts  her when the Kardashians are on the TV — but all of it has been treated with nonchalance that’s left her bewildered as to what her next step should be.

Yelena’s got her covered, though.

It’s her turn to strike, she knows, and again she chooses to do it when her sister will least expect it. Nat traipses home late one night, exhausted from cheer practice that overran. (Their next game is the last of the season, and her last cheer match ever considering she’s graduating this summer, so this semester’s team captain Sharon is determined they go out with a bang — even if that bang is a cheerleader toppling from the pyramid out of sheer exhaustion.) She mumbles her greetings and goodnights to Melina and Alexi, who are huddled around a decanter of whiskey in the study with Liho, and stumbles upstairs. All the lights are off up here, and she figures you and Yelena are probably settling down for the night. With a long, wistful look up the spiral staircase towards your firmly closed door, she trudges into her own (pitch-black) room. When she flicks on the light, though, she shrieks in horror. Sat expectantly at the foot of her bed is a long-limbed and blonde-headed figure, with hands folded neatly in its lap.

“Good evening, сестра,” greets the figure, sometimes known as Yelena Belova, with vaguely ominous nonchalance.

Natasha leans back against the door and closes her eyes in a desperate attempt to revert her heart rate to normal. Her first instinct as an older sister is to yell at her to get the fuck out, but in light of recent events this probably wouldn’t be the wisest of choices. Instead, she clamps her mouth tightly shut as she attempts to regain herself.

“I don’t,” she pants after a moment, “I haven’t— what? Hi. What?”

“You should really get a better lock,” Yelena says amusedly. “Very easy to pick.”

“You don’t have to break in,” Natasha grumbles, letting her bag slide to the floor and flopping backwards onto the bed. “Just knock.”

“No fun.” Yelena pokes Nat’s thigh with her toe just like she would when they were kids and for a moment they’re both young again. But she blinks, and the moment is gone, and now they’re two almost-adults with an entire universe between them.

Natasha just groans and flops back to stare up at her ceiling. A few years back you and Yelena helped her paint it blue and now it looks like the sky. It makes her smile when she’s sad sometimes. Yelena joins her, and the two cloudgaze for a moment.

“Why are you in my room?” Natasha asks quietly.

“To annoy you,” Lena quips.

“Success.”

“And to talk,” she continues.

“Also success. We are talking.”

The blonde lunges for her, and Natasha rolls away playfully. “No, I’m serious. Real talking.”

“Alright, I’m all ears.” Nat puts her hands behind her ears and pushes them forward to emphasise her point — again, like they would when they were kids.

“I want to know what you were intending when you started dating Y/N,” Yelena says, and Nat’s stomach drops. She knew this was coming, she knew this was where the conversation would lead, but she was still hoping to stall it for as long as possible just for the joy that her sister is talking to her again. The excitement is short-lived, though.

“We were never dating,” she reminds her quietly.

“Why not?”

The bluntness of the question makes Natasha stop short.

“Because it just, didn’t work out like that, I guess,” she tries. Yelena remains eerily stony.

“It’s not nice to lie to your baby sister, Natalia.”

Natasha deflates. “Because w— because I’m a fucking idiot. I don’t know what you want me to say. I know I messed up.”

“Step one is awareness,” Yelena nods sagely, while Nat grits her teeth. “So what are you going to do about it?”

She shrugs. “Graduate, and leave town, I guess. You and Y/N are twins again now, and I caused all these problems, so once I leave things should be fixed.”

“Untrue and false,” the blonde interrupts sharply. “That is lie. Y/N/N is crushed. This will not magically be fix if you take off for college.”

“But it will help,” Natasha insists.

“No it won’t,” Yelena pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration, “oh my god, how are you so stupid. She is in love with you, and she is so patient with you, she is not even angry. Which I would be, by the way, but she’s not. She’s only sure you don’t want her.”

“Huh? But I do.”

“No, like wanting her,” Yelena says gently. “As a whole. Like… unity, ah? Влюбленный. She feels so not good enough for you, and every day you are prove her right. You take only what you want from her and leave the rest. That is not what love is. She feels not loved by you, and that you only like her for the things she can offer you.”

“Oh. But I didn’t mean to,” Natasha says tearfully. Suddenly she is very small, and she draws her knees up to her chest. “I was only… Lena, маленький, I didn’t know what to do.”

“The answer seems pretty simple,” the blonde observes astutely, “all you had to do was either tell her you love her and want to be with her, or tell her it is over. You can’t keep having things in your way forever. She has feelings too, and the relationship cannot be on just your terms. She is not a doll, or toy.”

“I do,” she says hoarsely. “I do, t- the first one. It’s- I do. But I’m so…” She raises a pale trembling palm to run a hand through her hair, inhaling shakily, and with a blink of surprise Yelena realised how scared her older sister truly is.

“What is so terrifying?” she asks tenderly.

“Y/N is a girl.”

Yelena almost laughs at the confession but is able to refrain, and is proud of her capability to do so upon seeing just how agitated her company is over the subject. “Is this all that holds you back? Nobody would care. Ma and Daddy wouldn’t. This is not end of the world.”

“No, you don’t get it,” says Natasha fiercely. “Ever since I came to America... you were here first, you and Y/N, and you just get to be you. You have who you are. But I don’t know who I am, so I have to — do all the American girl things. I have to fit in. I don’t have a Y/N. And American girls don’t kiss girls.”

Yelena stops to consider this. It’s true that Natasha has always put far, far more effort into fitting in and Westernising herself more than she or their parents ever did. Yelena is perfectly content with her slightly broken English and her raspy accent and her life of in-betweenness. She’s okay with being from two places. To her, when she looks in the mirror, that is Yelena Belova. They’re just parts of who she is. She’s never even stopped to consider those as potential insecurities — not when she had other things and feelings (or lack thereof) to worry about. How could something so unchangeable be a source of doubt? And yet here she now sits, struggling to wrap her head around this invisible binary which has suffocated her sister for so many years.

“But you are not… what?” she says confusedly. “You did have a Y/N. All of this… you’re being someone else. I knew something felt strange. I do not understand why? I like who you are before. It wasn’t bad. I like Natalia.”

This seems to break Nat, who buries her face in her hands. Yelena lets out a motherly cluck of sympathy and scoots closer to loop a gangly arm around her sister.

“I just want to be normal,” breathes Natasha.

“But it is not worth all this,” Yelena says, squeezing her sister tightly to her chest. “What does normal even mean? Being cool is not the most important, Natalia. Everybody liking you doesn’t… fix you not liking yourself.” She cringes at her own words, reminding herself a little too much of Darcy’s Pinterest feed, but the words seem to ring true with Nat, at least.

“I am just so scared,” Nat says in a small voice. “And I think I’ve made this so bad it can’t be fixed.”

Yelena pulls away to look her sternly in the eyes. “Things can always be fixed. Maybe not in ideal way you want them to be, but we can always make amends. But you have to be sorry.”

“I am,” Natasha cries, “I am sorry.”

Yelena holds her. “I know.”

She’s not so sure you know it, though.

Maybe somewhere deep down, you do. You see it in the saddened smiles Nat offers you whenever she steps out of your way or leaves a room so you can use it. You see it in the way she brings your favourite snacks home and leaves them in the pantry without word or question, like she doesn’t even expect you to notice. You see it even in the absence of her; in the way that she gives you space, quietly leaving rooms when you enter them so you can use them despite the fact that you can feel in the air how much she wants to stop and talk to you. Sure, you can tell that she’s sorry. But you’re not sure that she knows what she’s sorry for.

You’re not sure she knows how badly she’s really hurt you, with her every move stabbing into you repeatedly over a course of months. Now that the knife is turned on her and she’s the one in exile, a selfish part of you wants to leave her there, just so she knows what it’s like. You guess that’s kind of what you’re doing now. You know this can’t go on forever though. In a couple of months Natasha leaves for out-of-state college, which she announced over dinner a few nights ago. You had to excuse yourself from the table to process that information. Your time is limited, you know, and it’s clear what Natasha wants (to kiss and make up) — but what do you want? To leave this wound untreated, festering for the next eternity? Or to allow yourself peace and let this go?

“Why do I have to be the bigger person?” you half-heartedly complain to Yelena one night as the two of you wash the dishes. “It’s not fair.”

“Because you are the bigger person,” Yelena laughs. “Natalia has given you the control. The next move is on you. That’s just the way it is, if it’s fair or no.” She whips you playfully with her tea towel, and the conversation moves on without further incident.

The issue plays on your mind long after the words are spoken, though. Whether you like it or not, Yelena is right. The next move’s on you. But how are you meant to make that call? What is the right move to make?

Well, one of Natasha’s friends appears very opinionated on the subject. 

On a particularly warm afternoon, you and Yelena stroll into town, and stop off at May Parker’s ice cream parlour — the best in town.

“Ah,” Yelena grimaces, as you draw close to its glass windows, “it is so busy in there. I go in, you wait out here?” 

You smile at her gratefully, and she disappears inside. 

“Y/L/N!” a voice calls out behind you, and you turn around to see Bucky Barnes making a beeline for you. He’s about twice your size in every way imaginable, and you gulp. 

“Hi?” you say uncertainly. You don’t think you’ve ever spoken to him in your life.

“What’s up with you and Romanov?” Well, he’s straight to the point. 

You flounder, mouth opening and shutting, and he’s gracious enough to continue, “look, I know you and her are a thing. Were. I don’t know, she’s being so weird about it. It’s okay, it’s okay, I was her beard. And she was mine,” he adds, gesturing over at Steve Rogers, who’s stood on the other side of the road waiting patiently for his boyfriend. He smiles and waves amiably on cue. 

You blink. “And no one thought to inform me?” 

He shrugs. “Not my place. I think it is my place, though, to ask what’s got her so torn up. You and her fallen out? I’ve never seen her like this. I’on know what to do.”

He may not mean it menacingly, but he’s towering over you and you’re finding it hard to breathe. “She was an asshole, dude,” you say, perhaps a little more defensively than you envisioned. “She wasn’t nice to me and we weren’t even together, because she didn’t see me like that. So yeah, I guess we fell out.”

He frowns, deeply, and takes a moment to process this. “Oh. That… but she does feel that way about you.”

“It’d be nice if she’d show it,” you say bitterly. 

His face softens. “Maybe… Look, even if the two of you don’t work it out proper, wouldn’t it be easier to at least clear the air? She likes you so much. She just wants you in her life, I think.”

You look at him uncertainly for a moment, but he holds your gaze earnestly. You know him and Natasha are relatively close, and you don’t see why he’d lie about something like this. It’s definitely tempting to believe.

“Okay,” you say, “I’ll bear that in mind.”

He looks like he’s about to say something else, but you feel a hand on your shoulder and instantly recognise Yelena’s presence just behind you. “What is going on?”

“Just talking,” says Bucky smoothly, but it seems apparent that the moment is over. “See you around, kid.” He crosses the road back to Steve.

“Kid,” you mutter, “he’s one grade older than me.” 

“What did he want?” Yelena asks you, and you relay your strange interaction to her. “Oh. Well, he is probably right, but I’m not sure how much it means coming from Natasha’s ex.”

“Were they really together?” you ask, your stomach turning at the thought. Wouldn’t that co-occur with your and her relationship? “He said he was her beard.”

She shrugs. “Not my expertise. Come on, the ice cream will melt.”

You don’t see Bucky Barnes again for the weeks that follow, although you can’t help but wonder what he meant, and what he was trying to achieve. (And a little part inside of you thinks that maybe he could be right.)

“Ma?” says Natasha suddenly. “How did you know you loved Alexi?”

It’s late at night, and the two of them are on the car ride home from Nat’s last cheer game of the season. (At her request it was not a family affair, despite Alexi’s insistence that it was his right to make a fuss of his talented daughter’s performance at her last high school cheer game.) The roads are empty and the towns are sleepy, but Natasha’s question has Melina wide awake.

“Eeh… it was not like a revelation. I did not wake up one day with new clarity. It came to me over time. It took me long time to accept, though. Your father is very patient man.”

“But was there anything specific?” Natasha persists.

Melina purses her lips in thought. “Well, when I met him I was not trusting person. One time when we were in the kind of in between bit right before being proper couple, ah —”

“The talking stage,” Nat supplies helpfully.

“— yes, да. We were in that, nothing proper but something, and he went to touch me and I had a… panic? I shut down. Achh, моя любовь, I was still figuring out who I was and what I did and didn’t like and… still growing up and healing from when I was kid. I was scared.”

Natasha nods solemnly. There are some childhood experiences which, despite unspoken, bind she and her mother at the soul.

“So I freak out, and I expected him to… belittle or leave, or something. But he stays and he is so patient, he apologise for making me jump and fetch me tea, and I thought like wow, he is so gentle. And he is not like the other men I known.”

Again, Natasha nods. Gentle is the perfect descriptor for her father. He’s the most wonderful man she’s ever met.

“So we spent more time together, he was patient with me and always caring. That was the time that I knew I would fall in love with him. But I’m not really know when it happened. Maybe by then it already had, ah? I have only ever had eyes for him. He make me feel… valued, and worthy.”

Natasha just hums in response, for she’s suddenly and embarrassingly on the verge of violent sobbing. She blames Ma and Baba and their beautiful relationship. Nothing else.

“Is this about Y/N?” Melina asks quietly. Natasha opens her mouth to reply and there it is, just as she feared, the waterworks are unleashed. Ma sighs heavily and pulls over.

“Идите сюда,” she says, holding her arms out, and Natasha crawls into them. She rocks her daughter back and forth, exactly how she used to so many years ago when the girl was half this size, while Nat’s face is buried in her mother’s neck. They stay like that for a while, until Natasha’s tears begin to die down.

“Do you want to go and get milkshakes?” Melina breaks the silence. Natasha hums her assent.

The 24-hour diner isn’t far from where they’ve pulled over, and it’s almost empty at this time of night. With no words exchanged Melina orders Natasha’s usual, or what was her usual when she was a kid — a strawberry milkshake and fries. A young Natasha decided strawberry was her favourite as soon as she found out that pink was a girl’s colour. Thinking about that now, especially with the hindsight of her conversation with Yelena, has her stomach turning a little. How long has she been letting her view of the world colour every single choice that she makes? Which parts of her are really her, and which are the ones she’s willed into existence?

It’s a scary line of questioning, and Natasha can feel herself beginning to spiral. No more, she tells herself. Yelena was probably right about needing to get to know herself — and learning her real favourite flavour of milkshake seems a manageable starting point.

“Can I have the caramel one?” she asks Melina gruffly, pointing at the menu. Her mama just nods and alters their order accordingly.

They sit at their usual booth and eat in a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional “pass the ketchup”s. Once they’ve finished, though, and Melina can sense her daughter has calmed enough to leave, she turns and says to her, “Love isn’t easy thing to admit. But it’s… not something to be ashamed of. When it comes, just let it happen. It’s scary, but it does not make you weaker, ah? It will do you no good to push it away.” She hesitates, but then seems satisfied with what she’s said. She turns on her heel and heads back out to the car. Natasha, dumbfounded, follows her.

When they finally make it home, Alexi is snoring away upstairs and you’re on the sofa with Yelena sprawled on top of you, fast asleep. You’re wide awake, though, and look up as the two of them come in.

“Night, ma,” Natasha murmurs to her mother, kissing her cheek before tiptoeing off to bed. Melina hums at the action and pads into the living room toward her twins.

“Hi ma,” you chirp, voice a little husky. “Everything okay?”

Your mama nods, and holds out a brown paper bag. “We stopped at diner. Got your favourite. Some for Lena too.”

Your eyes crinkle up into half-moons as you smile at her in gratitude, and Melina smiles back fondly, her chest filling with warmth. “Thank you.”

She kisses Yelena’s forehead, who does not stir, and then yours, lingering for a moment.

“I love you,” she tells you sincerely, and a fierceness glimmers in her gaze that you’re not quite sure what to do with. “We all do.”

“I love you too,” you tell her honestly. You only hope you’re matching her intensity. She holds your gaze for a moment longer as if searching for something within it,  then nods, seemingly satisfied, and retreats upstairs to join Alexi, leaving you alone with a meal to demolish, a slumbering blonde pinning you to the sofa and many, many thoughts.

A few days after that conversation, you wander into the backyard (Melina’s carefully pruned pride and joy) to pet Liho, who’s basking peacefully in the summer evening sun.

“Careful of the flowerbed,” you warn as he flexes his claws and kicks his legs happily. “Someone will suffer if Ma’s roses are ruined.”

He huffs in what could be agreement, and you toe absently at the sandy dirt you and Yelena used to play in.

A gentle creaking sounds from somewhere nearby. It’s a noise that makes you feel ten years younger, and curiously, you rise to your feet.

At the far end of the backyard, nestled among the pines and pratia, is the swing set Alexi built a little while after Yelena first moved in. It’s a little haggard-looking, as when Natasha came to America Alexi bodged a third swing so all of you could play together, but to his credit it’s still held up all these years. Sure, it doesn’t get so much use anymore, but sometimes when one of you is feeling a little down you’ll revisit the simpler times of your childhood.

This seems to be what you’ve stumbled upon Natasha doing now. She’s sat on the middle swing (which in times gone by was your swing, as the middle spot often was when you were a kid, so both siblings got to be next to you), rocking back and forth gently as she cradles something small in her hands, turning it over. She’s lost in thought. Wondering if you’ve intruded on something private, you begin to slowly pace away. When you catch sight of what it is in her hands, though, your stomach turns; a small and glistening pink rock, rubbed smooth by years of love.

“You kept that?” you ask quietly. Natasha’s head shoots up and she takes note of your appearance in the same way that a deer takes note of rapidly approaching headlights. Her mouth opens as she fumbles for words, but she just settles for nodding vigorously before lowering her gaze to her lap again.

You don’t really know what to think, or do. You hesitate for a moment, and find yourself thinking of Bucky’s advice — wouldn’t it be easier to clear the air? This tension is suffocating. With this on your mind, you seem to surprise Natasha as much as yourself when your feet march you over to the swing on your left, and your knees bend to seat you. Her entire body tenses as yours nears her. You can tell that, since you’ve gone to great lengths to escape her company recently, this is the last thing she expected. (In all honesty you weren’t really expecting this either. What now?)

“You know that I’m in love with you, right?” Natasha says suddenly, and you freeze. Your chest tightens, and it’s like she’s wrapped herself around it, claiming your breath as her own.

“That’s not funny,” you reply in a small voice. “Don’t— don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Play with me like that.”

Her stomach lurches. “I’m being serious.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “Were you and Bucky ever actually together?”

“What?”

“Bucky Barnes. Were you with him when you were with me, too?” 

“N- no,” she says with vehement certainty. “I was — well, I guess it doesn’t really matter now, but when him and Steve were a secret I was his cover story. And I guess he was mine, so that I could… yeah.” She gestures towards you, pressing her lips together. 

“But even after they came out I was still a secret.”

“I—” Natasha says, and buries her face in her hands for a moment, because this is not how she hoped this would go. “Yes. And that was wrong of me. I’m sorry. I think I was trying to protect you, and me, and you from me because I know how messy I can be, and I wanted you so bad but I didn’t want to drag you down with me. And I still did anyway.” She sighs heavily.

“That’s an interesting way of showing affection,” you quip. 

“I know,” she says quietly. “And I’m sorry. I know I haven’t shown it well — at all — and I don’t really blame you for not believing me. Or, uh, hating me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you say softly.

Her shoulders sag. “Oh. W— well that’s good, then.”

“But I wish I did,” you add.

“No, yeah. That’s fair.”

“You’re really mean.”

Natasha just nods.

“And it’s even worse because I can’t even hate you because you can also be really nice.”

She nods again uncertainly. She’s not really sure how to respond to that.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why are you so mean sometimes?”

This makes her stop up short. The way that both you and Yelena never fail to cut to the chase or ask the questions that nobody else would will always catch her off guard. “It’s kind of just who I am,” she begins, but at the way your face scrunches she adds, “or who I’ve decided to be, anyway. I don’t really know. I’m not sure… who I am.” Even uttering the statement aloud is a weight lifted from her shoulders. “It’s scary. I guess I… I thought that, like, I have to be the mean one, or someone else will first. To me. You know?”

“Why would anyone be mean to you?”

“Because I like girls,” she says truthfully, and there’s a tremor to her voice.. “And I’m not from here.”

You stare at her. “…? I like girls, and Yelena isn’t from here. No one is mean to us for it.”

“Because Yelena can and will beat the shit out of anyone that tries something,” Nat snorts. “But I just… I don’t know. It’s different for me.” You nod encouragingly and she adds with reluctance, “I don’t— belong here, not really. Or anywhere. I’m too American to be Russian and too Russian to be American. Ma and Baba and Yelena have it figured out, they’re just both and themselves and they don’t even have to think about it. But that’s not so easy for me.”

“Maybe,” you say carefully, “it’s to do with the people you choose to surround yourselves with. Is it possible that you’re… spending time with the wrong people? If you’re made to feel as though these things make you lesser.”

She shrugs. “Probably. But that doesn’t change the fact that I just… I really don’t have a lot going for me. So I kinda pretend that I do, and then it gets out of hand and I’ve convinced myself that I’m a lot more interesting than I am, to the point that I don’t know who me is. And I get all freaked out. And I’m so scared I kind of just shut off and try not to think, so I guess I’m just an asshole instead. Like it’s a reflex, you know? But it’s not really me. Nothing is me. My entire life is one perpetual identity crisis.” She drops her gaze to toe at the ground.

Your swing comes to a still as you clasp one of her hands between both of yours. They’re warm and perfectly manicured, and her eyes light up at the contact. “You don’t have to know who you are. You just have to exist, and you find out. I’m learning things about myself all the time, and so is Lena. This was my first relationship —” Nat’s stomach drops at the use of the word was “— and I’ve learnt a lot about myself and how I like to be treated. And Lena only came to terms with being aroace this year. Even Ma only just decided she’s demi,” you point out, and Nat can’t help but smile at this. (A little while ago, after Yelena first came out, you and Melina began joining her in attending weekly meetings at the local youth centre for young queer people and their parents. Your mama was determined to be a more educated advocate for her three queer daughters. Very recently, with all this new terminology at her disposal, she dropped into a dinnertime conversation in the presence of the whole family that she thinks she’s demi. “Not that it matters,” she added, “the only one for me is your father,” and she kissed his beaming crinkly cheek with a motherly tenderness. It was a beautiful moment to witness, despite Yelena’s playful booing.)

“I guess,” she says quietly. “Um, I’ve been talking to someone. Professional,” she adds at the look on your face. “Yelena said some stuff that made me realise I probably shouldn’t sort through this alone.”

“Yes, you shouldn’t,” you nod. Natasha raises an eyebrow at your ready agreement. “It’s not something to be ashamed of. Lena sees someone. I do too.”

She blinks. “Really?”

“Yes,” you laugh, “Baba takes me every other Thursday. I have horrible abandonment issues. I guess after everything that’s happened, I’ve kinda internalised some stuff.”

“I definitely took advantage of that,” Nat says guiltily. “I’m sorry. Honestly, I am.”

You look at her. “I know.” Your hand squeezes hers before letting go and she instantly aches to feel it again. “I’m sorry, too. For not… I don’t know, setting more boundaries. Or being more forceful.”

“No, no, it wasn’t your fault.”

You hum, and the two of you sit in silence for a long while as the sun begins to retire.

“You know,” you say suddenly, “you don’t have to move across the country. You can if you want, obviously, it’s your call, but if it’s just because of me… you don’t have to.”

“But-? I’m trying to give you space? To heal,” she says confusedly, and you laugh.

“And it’s very sweet, but I don’t need that much space. I’ve already forgiven you.”

Natasha’s soul leaves her body. “You— huh?”

“I have,” you laugh kindly. “I did some of my own thinking, and I just… I don’t know. I don’t think you need me being mad at you, on top of everything else going on in here.” You tap at her temple gently to emphasise your point, and she shivers. “And I don’t think I need that either. I don’t want to carry that with me.”

“Okay,” Natasha breathes. “T— thank you.”

You wrinkle your nose at her affectionately. “You’re silly.”

She’s awash with the overwhelming need to kiss you, and instead twitches a little, digging her nails into her palm. You take in the movement with such wide-eyed concern that she has to close her eyes for a moment, because she’s almost ill with how much she feels for you. This feeling only grows more intense as you continue.

“I know we’re… whatever we are, but… if there’s anything I can do for you, let me know,” you say more quietly. “I know you’ve been through some stuff, and even when you’re seeing someone for it it can get overwhelming. I do care about you.”

She nods, and swallows thickly. “ I don’t— I— uhm. What does this make us?”

You can hear her hopes heavy on her tongue, and your heart is like lead. “Friends?” you offer. “I— I don’t think we should be anything else, right now.”

Natasha nods, and swallows thickly. With it she swallows back the words but I love you. It must be written across her face, though, because you cup it between your hands (which really isn’t helping her self-restraint at all).

“I love you,” you tell her honestly. “And I always have. But love isn’t… you don’t… I don’t know. That kind of love is something that you earn, I think. And we both need to take care of ourselves.”

“I understand.” Natasha’s voice is hoarse, and barely above a whisper. “And I want you to feel like I respect your decision. But I also want you to feel like I’m serious. About you. And I will prove it if I have to.”

Against your own better judgement, you smile at her.

One thing about Natasha Romanoff is that she’s not a quitter.

Some would say it’s an endearing quality. More would probably tell her it’s the reason she finds herself in so many messes in the first place. What’s objectively certain is that she’s a stubborn little shit — and and with this determination she’s decided she’s going to win you back. Your slight encouragement, no matter how vague, is enough fuel for a fire that could simmer for months.

It starts as chocolates, and flowers. At this point she seems to have cottoned onto the fact that you’re not one for big, theatrical confessions of love, but rather consistent affirmations of it. Actions, not words, she’s heard you say (although now more than ever before she’s seeing for herself what you mean). So there’s no four-act sonnet recitals when you receive her gifts — although you don’t really receive them at all, in the traditional sense. Rather they seem to begin popping up everywhere you go. At one point you open your locker to a bouquet so over-endowed that flowers begin to tumble out onto the floor. Sam steps neatly to the side and watches with glee as you scramble to clean the mess. (He’s most definitely enjoying watching all of this play out.)

Your favourite of all these surprise gifts is probably one delivered by your own four-legged Cupid himself. Liho headbutts the door to your room open and stalks in with a scowl on his face and something attached to his collar. As soon as you remove it to inspect it he rolls onto his back and looks up at you expectantly, clearly expecting compensation for this favour.

“Yes, you’re a very handsome boy,” you tell him distractedly, using one hand to rub his belly while you attempt to unfurl the note he’s delivered with the other. Yelena lets out a noise of amusement. She’s perched on your bed with the Kardashians paused on her laptop in favour of watching this play out instead.

“You are so ungraceful,” she comments mildly, making no move to help you.

“I love how you always see the best in me,” you reply through gritted teeth.

After a moment, you manage to succeed in your task. I picked these for you :), the letter reads. You glance over at Liho’s collar again to see a tiny bunch of forget-me-nots, only slightly battered from their journey and bound neatly by brown twine.

“Another gift from the mystery girl?” Yelena teases, and you groan.

“Okay, saying mystery girl is officially banned. It’s giving me war flashbacks.”

“And that is fair,” your sister muses, getting to her feet to inspect your latest delivery. After she’s done she sits back on her heels. “You don’t have to keep turning her down, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if it’s just because of me. You have my… blessing, or whatever. But on the condition that you’re not gross about it.” She rolls her eyes, and nudges your cheek with her nose. You squirm good-naturedly.

“Why thank you, your Grace.”

“Yes, I’m the graceful one,” she preens.

“Sure,” you snort, and she smirks. “Um, thank you, though. That’s good to know. I guess I’m still… figuring it out, but she’s growing on me again.” And it’s true. You have your reservations now, but she’s trying to remind you why you first fell for her (and yeah, she might be succeeding). Part of you wonders if she’s turning on the superficiality again, but after she spilled her guts to you on the swing set you’re trying to have faith that she really is turning a new leaf, and charming you authentically.

Yelena considers this. “Yes, okay. This makes sense. Remember to tell me if she tries anything again though. I will put them up.” She raises her fists and you giggle, but you know she’s at least partially serious. She’s very athletic in her own right and people at school go out of their way to avoid crossing her. That’s how you’ve stayed out of trouble your whole life — by standing behind Yelena and letting her handle it instead. Where you hesitate, she dives right in. You adore that about her, though.

“Do you know what you’ll do once she’s out of state?” Lena asks, and you shrug.

“Figure it out as we go, I guess. I don’t know if she’ll lose interest in me.”

The blonde looks up fiercely. “If she does that I will stick them up.”

You beam at her, admittedly less for the violence and more for the sentiment behind it. She beams back for reasons more ambiguous.

“Do you know what we will do?” Yelena queries. Upon your frown she elaborates, “next year when it is our turn to pick college. You and me, what will we do?”

“Pick the same one, and both get in because we’re super smart, and we’ll be roommates. And you can make us mac and cheese every night,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

She contemplates this.

“Okay,” she says, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “Can we hit play now? I want to know what’s happen to Kim’s diamond earring.”

“Two cookies say she gets it back.”

“Two cookies say eat my ass the way a fish ate her earring,” she retorts, and the two of you settle on the bed again. (You have two more cookies than usual after dinner.)

Despite the witticism you take Yelena’s blessing with pride, and it means a lot more to you than you let on. Now that every single member of your family has shown their support for your relationship you can’t help but feel a slight ray of hope, the likes of which you thought had been stomped out long ago. Never before have you dared to imagine a situation where you could actually have a shot with the girl of your dreams, who you’ve wanted for as long as you can remember — and yet here you are, with her putting her back out working overtime to win you over, and your family watching with interest. Every morning you wake up a little warmer to the idea of letting this happen.

That doesn’t mean Natasha’s out of the woods yet, though, and you’re careful to make this clear to her. She senses your hesitance, and completely understands its presence. She’ll wait for you as long as it takes. (She’s genuinely stunned at how forgiving you have been of her, in all honesty.) In fact she takes your reluctances in her stride in a way that actually has you feeling more for her — but again, you know better than to repeat your mistakes of the past, and so you take this as slowly as you can considering she’s coming on strong and you live under the same roof.

Three months of summer lie ahead of you, stretching out like an endless expanse of sunset-tinted possibility. You and Yelena manage to land jobs at the video store in town — Yelena goes blazing into the interview and makes it clear as she can that the two of you are a package deal. Wong, the guy who runs the place, just seems grateful for the help.

The store becomes somewhat of a hangout spot for the two of you, who work the same hours and are joined at the hip like always, and it’s a safe bet to stop by if anyone wants to find you. Sam often swings by to playfully irritate the both of you, since the marina where his parents’ boat is docked is just round the corner, and Natasha will meet you when you’re closing to take you out for dinner after. (Sometimes Yelena tags along to these meals, and gleefully revels in the awkwardness her presence causes.) Since you and Yelena are twins again too, things are looking up for your friendship group and they’ve taken to visiting also. You’re delighted to spend time with them again. (Seeing Makkari’s face light up when she steps into the Deaf & Subtitled section of the store makes your whole week.)

In fact, word seems to have gotten out about the fact that Wong’s employed you, because one sleepy Tuesday afternoon Bucky Barnes drops by to rent a DVD. He picks one at random, not even glancing at the cover, and as you scan it through for him he says to you lowly, “thank you for making Natasha happy again. She cares so much about you.” He offers you a genuine smile before heading out abruptly and almost forgetting his DVD in the process. (You suspect his purchase was a mere means to talk to you.) It’s a strange interaction, but decidedly more pleasant than your last with him, so you take it no further.

Another perk of having this job is that you have your own money now. You’re not really sure what to do with it at first; the only thing that occurs to you is that you want to get a gift for Natasha. At the end of the summer is her graduation — she’ll walk and wear the square hat and everything, and you’re very excited to embarrass her with photos of the event — and after that she’ll leave for college. Her graduation is the perfect time to present her with said gift, you decide.

You know you want the gift to be meaningful, but you’re not really sure of the specifics. Luckily for you, one night on the roof with Natasha is all you need for the inspiration to strike.

Can’t sleep, you text her one night, after hours of fruitless tossing and turning.

She replies immediately.

Me neither

Come down to my room :)

If you want to!!! she adds after a moment, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. She is adorable.

Omw, you tell her, rolling out of bed.

The door is unlocked!!!!!! just come in

You follow her instructions and slip inside. The room is cosily lit, with her fairy lights on and her little lamp shaped like Calcifer flickering merrily; the bed is unmade, as if someone’s been in it recently, but Natasha herself is nowhere to be seen.

“Nat?” you call out uncertainly, and squeak in surprise when her head pops through the window. She smiles softly at your reaction.

“I’m out here,” she tells you. “C’mon, there’s space for both of us.” She wriggles along her perch on the flat row of tiles of the roof, and pats the empty spot beside her. Antics like this don’t faze you after twelve years of friendship with Yelena. You clamber out beside her readily.

“Hi,” says Natasha a little bashfully, once you’re settled. You lean up to peck her lips and she flushes. “Y— yeah. Um, hi.”

“Hi,” you reply sweetly. “It’s nice out here.”

“It is,” she agrees, her gaze not straying from you. You take no notice, though; your sights are set to the heavens. No matter how much you snipe about how annoying it is to live in a small town, the views still take your breath away. The stars shimmer bright above you, as they do almost every night. They’re not the only beautiful sight your town has to offer; Wanda adores the rocky hills at the edge of town, where many scavengers like squirrels and raccoons have made their home (one boy in your grade, Peter Quill, has befriended one of the raccoons and affectionately named him ‘Rocket’. He visits Rocket every day after lunch with his leftovers from the cafeteria). Occasionally she’s able to convince everyone in your group to accompany her hiking there. Despite your grumbling, it does make for an enjoyable day out.

“I come out here when I can’t sleep,” she tells you quietly.

“I sit on the roof sometimes,” you reply, and you beam at each other. It’s true — you do, but sharing the information feels vulnerable. You’ve figured out how to hoist yourself up through the skylight in the loft and onto the utmost point of the house, but it’s an activity you’ve kept as your own for now. While you adore more than anything being twins with Yelena, and living your life with her, you’re also learning how to exist by yourself for the first time in your life, and enjoying having your own space. Your little corner in the attic has afforded you many freedoms, and not just material ones.

“You see the moon?” Nat asks. The planet in question hangs round and heavy over the horizon, not quite full.

“How could I miss her?” She’s the most beautiful thing in sight.

“You know the difference between waxing and waning?” Natasha prompts, and you shake your head, solely because you love when she talks about her passions. “Waxing is when the moon transitions from a new moon to a full moon — so she fills out. See, that’s what she’s doing now.”

“She’s nearly full,” you remark quietly.

“Yup.” She grins. “Now when she’s waxing, she fills in from the right side — so she kinda looks like a C.” She makes a C shape with her left hand and holds it up against the sky to confirm that, yes, while the moon is waxing it vaguely resembles the letter. “But soon she’ll start to wane — maybe next week? After the full moon. Waning is the transition from the full moon back to the new moon, so she shrinks away into nothing. She’s eaten away from the left side, so she looks like a reverse C.” Nat makes a C shape with her right hand this time, so that it’s reversed, and holds it up to compare to the moon. They don’t match up right now, but they’ll get there someday.

“This is my favourite period though,” she confesses, her voice dropping a little lower, “of the lunar cycle. When the moon is waxing.”

“Why?”

“Because it feels,” she hesitates. “I don’t know. It feels like gross to say out loud but it kinda just feels like, encouraging. Things are always changing. They won’t be like this forever, you know? The cycle keeps on repeating itself.”

“The cycle keeps on repeating itself,” you repeat, and she smiles at you.

“Yeah. You don’t think it’s… dumb? I don’t know, I’ve never brought anyone else up here. I —”

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell her, and she kisses you gently.

The next day you go out and buy a crescent moon necklace.

Natasha has been coming into your room more and more often lately, and you don’t trust yourself to not leave it lying around in plain sight, so one day while she’s out you enlist Alexi’s help to loosen one of the floorboards in the attic so you can stash things under it inconspicuously.

“It’s not for anything suspicious,” you tell him quickly, “you can look under it whenever you want. It’s just to hide gifts and —”

“Relax, sunflower,” he chuckles, “you are entitled to your secrets.”

The necklace stays hidden there until summer draws to a close.

The weeks fly by in a golden haze and before you know it, you’re getting ready for Natasha’s graduation.

Alexi is stood on the landing in his smartest suit, and flexing proudly in the mirror on the wall. “It still fits!” he booms triumphantly.

“Don’t forget to wear your nice shirt, любовь,” Melina calls up the stairs to him. “No one with holes in.” He deflates a little, and retreats back into their bedroom to change.

“He looks fine,” Yelena scolds half-heartedly as she lumbers down the stairs, holding out her wrists to Melina. “Can you do my cufflinks?”

“Where’s your please?” Melina retorts, but she sets her clutch down so she can use both hands to help her daughter.

“We have to leave in ten minutes,” Natasha announces as she bursts from her own room. “Семья, I know what you are like, and we cannot be late.”

“Relax, love.” Alexi reemerges from the bedroom in a different shirt this time. “I will go and start the car,” he starts down the stairs, “and— oh.” He pauses as several buttons pop off his shirt simultaneously. “Ебать.” He turns around and subduedly makes his way back up the stairs.

“Baba,” Natasha groans. “This is what I mean.”

“Hey! I am nearly ready,” says Yelena indignantly, nodding at her mother in thanks for doing her cufflinks before ducking in front of the mirror. “Oh shit, where is my tie?”

“Language,” reprimands Melina.

“See?” Natasha sighs exasperatedly. “Y/N/N is the only one who’s ready.” She hurries down the stairs to where you’re stood in the hall, watching the scene unfold serenely. You’ve been ready to leave for the last ten minutes. She beams at you and pecks you on the cheek just shy of your lips. You flush, and the crescent moon necklace burns a hole in your pocket. Now isn’t the time, though.

Eventually, you all make it into the car, with everyone now sporting correctly-fitting outfits. As always on car journeys, you’re in the back, sandwiched in the middle between Natasha and Yelena. Lena scrolls through her phone disinterestedly, headphones in, while Natasha vibrates on your other side with anticipation and nerves. You take one of her hands between both of yours and she stills instantly.

“I am very proud of you,” you say quietly, “to have made it this far, with these grades. You’ve gotten into your dream college. You can do anything. Today will go fine.”

She doesn’t speak for fear of bawling and potentially ruining her eyeliner, so instead she rests her head on your shoulder in silent gratitude. She doesn’t move until you arrive, at which point she shows you all to your seats (front row, you note) and disappears to the backstage meeting point for all of the graduates.

The actual ceremony doesn’t begin for a while, so Melina converses with the other parents seated around her while Alexi nods politely, and you and Yelena compete in a thumb war. Eventually Principal Rambeau steps onto the stage and a silence settles on the gathered audience.

“Thank you all for attending,” she begins. “We’re here to celebrate our wonderful seniors, who have put in so much work to make it here today, and walk this stage.” She continues like that for a short while before they begin to call the students’ names, and they each walk across the stage in turn to claim their diploma. Natasha is a little later on the register, so you just sit back and enjoy the show — you’ve lived in this small town all your life, where most people know of each other, and so you recognise or even know the vast majority of the people who make their way across the stage. Some of them choose to make a memorable exit from their high school career (like Happy Hogan who chooses to breakdance his way across the stage, or Ned Leeds who walks proudly in a hot dog suit), whereas others take the more graceful route (see Valkyrie King, a prominent athlete of the school, who walks with confidence and regally basks in everyone’s recognition of her). When Natasha Romanova-Shostakov is called, she walks the stage a little bashfully, and with a blush accepts the cheers showered upon her after several years of being the cheer team’s star. You clap and shout louder than anyone else, and to Yelena’s glee capture several shots of her in her square graduate cap. Front row seat privilege. 

After the presentations, the students flood into the crowd and people break off into little groups. The air hums with the joy of people laughing and congratulating and embracing one another. Natasha makes her way over to you and Yelena, who are stood now with your parents beside the refreshments. She brightens when she spots you, and is instantly by your side, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“There is my girl!” Melina cheers. An outbreak of hugging ensues.

You mingle politely for a while with the other families milling around your own. Natasha appears intermittently, being the centre of attention today. Yelena is by your side (with her arm annoyingly resting on your shoulder to remind you that she’s taller) until one of her hockey friends pilfers her to show her something. In the few moments that you’re unaccompanied, Natasha resurfaces from the crowd, takes your arm and leads you somewhere a little quieter, and a little less visible to the masses.

“I just, um,” she realises she’s still holding your arm and lets go of it with a blush, “I wanted to thank you for being here. Like actually. It means a lot to me. I know— I know that in a couple of weeks I won’t be here properly, and it might make things weird, but —”

Now is the perfect time, you decide. As she continues to nervously ramble you pull the crescent moon necklace in its little velvet box from your pocket, and present it to her. She falls silent and looks at you.

“It’s for you,” you say unnecessarily, opening it to show her the treasure inside. Her eyes widen. “I— I want to do this with you. I want to give us a try. I like being with you.”

And as you clasp the delicate chain around her neck, and lean up to press a chaste kiss to her lips, Natasha understands. Love is something you earn.

She entwines your hand with hers, and together the two of you make your way back towards your family.

[hoovesandfloorpaws]

I love how Louis was so open about hating love island and disliking influencers and this is who they try to pair him with. My favorite part was the daily mail saying she met him because his sisters want to be the Kardashians of England. We all know he loves all of that and how he would like to be known from.

first off, darling, i'm sorry for taking almost a month to reply to this 💀

lovely anon 💖 I want you to know that you spoke from my soul back in March 2025, so I wanted to publish this ask so I can add a few general thoughts about them stunting and then put it into my tag for future reference.

We all know he loves all of that and how he would like to be known from. - the sarcasm YES 😩💅🏼

but yeah, so, in all seriousness, -- and i'm not talking to you directly, sweet anon, i'm just piggyback-ing on your ask now 💕 -- yet again for another H/L stunt number 15 or so, it's all so non-sensical and predictable - as always always always.

i do have strong opinions on Lou's recent chosen stunt partner, but as I said before -- in a year, in five years, in ten or twenty years, this will be a blip; one point in a timeline that one will read over and move on to the truly impactful points. in the grand scheme of H&L's relationship of 15 years and counting; within the strong foundation of their love and commitment, as well as in their day-to-day lives with each other, this stunt doesn't matter. and the next one won't matter. and the next. it's purely a part of work. they don't become friends with the women they stunt with and they only superficially knew/know them like you'd know a co-worker or a fellow actor in a project.

the reason why stunts are a thing sucks massively, yes; it always did and until this world systematically changes, it always will -- but this is just how things currently are.

all a stunt aims for is attention, press, clicks, impressions, views, engagement, etc. - a stunt purely thrives off of that. bits and pieces get fed to the public, but essentially a stunt is only what gets made of it by the people who choose to actively engage with it. if nobody would pay attention to it, it wouldn't work.

so the best we can do is just that: pay as little attention to it as possible, archive and track what needs to be archived and tracked regarding Lou and H, and let the rest be beige noise that will fizzle out eventually.

-

on this note, let me link to a great and ever-relevant post by dear Daisie @daisiesonafield-blog: How To Make A Stunt More Believable

and these two replies by lovely Gina @twopoppies and this one by sweet Sab @fookinhellcurlyyy basically sum up my feelings about this recent stunt

OH, and a big shoutout for this great archiving work by wonderful @delicateperspective here 🗂

[vivmaek]

Do you think beauty indictors in astrology are reliable? Like does every person with Lilith in the 1st house, for example, have an intimidating attractiveness about them? Or Venus in 8th house… do all of them have strong sex appeal?

BEAUTY INDICATORS WITHIN ASTROLOGY

The answer to this question is complicated.

Celebrities are often referred to within astrology because their lives are put on public display, making them easy targets for interpretation. This is especially true when it comes to their appearance. However, I don't think celebrities should be referred to for accurate interpretations on appearance. Celebrities are more attractive in comparison to the general population, that's why they're famous. Plus, money and access to resources such as plastic surgery and specialized spa treatments are going to have a greater affect upon a persons appearance than astrology ever will. This doesn't mean that I think the images of celebrities shouldn't be used for visual examples, just that they should be taken with a grain of salt.

With that being said, I don't think beauty indicators are 100% reliable. Beauty is incredibly subjective. Some might find a Lilith first houser to have an intimidating beauty, but other people might consider their appearance to be strange and off-putting. Of course, the aspects Lilith is making within your chart are going to generate an effect as well.

Also, your appearance is going to change significantly throughout the course of your life. There are going to be years in which you face struggle and hardship, you might become injured or face severe illness for a prolonged period. Are you going to be your most beautiful, sexy self through these points in time? Fuck no, and you shouldn't expect yourself to be. Sometimes staying true to your authentic self despite its ugliness is more powerful than being beautiful.

Kim Kardashian is commonly referred to when speaking on beauty indicators within astrology, and look at how much her appearance has changed throughout the course of her life. Towards the late 2010s, she was publicly criticized for having a "diaper butt," and people thought that she destroyed her face with filler and a bad nose job. However, within the past few years, she's made significant modifications and is yet again being publicly praised for her beauty.

I have seen beauty indicators within birth charts of people who I don't think are very attractive. But who knows? Maybe they weren't living up to the full potential of their beauty during that time. I know that there are periods in my life in which this was very much the case, that doesn't mean I lost any value as a person though.

I think people really start to exhibit these beauty indicators when they're living up to the potential showcased within their natal chart. If you have a strong beauty indicator placed within the 10th house, you're going to have to work hard and focus on your career for this to be strongly showcased. A Leo rising with strong beauty indicators placed within their chart isn't going to be perceived as attractive if they act egotistical and arrogant. For example, Vladimir Putin has Venus placed within the 1st house, I wouldn't call him a harmonious person.

Ultimately, if you're looking to astrology to figure out if you're beautiful, or relying upon astrology for confidence, it's a stupid idea. You're time would be better spent working on self-esteem issues. I say this generally, it's not directed at anyone specific. That being said, studying beauty indicators within astrology can be really fun and I consider it to be informative. In my opinion, it works best in connection to predictive astrology, because like I said, physical appearance changes drastically throughout the course of a persons life.

[justforbooks]

Kanye West announces he has been diagnosed with autism

Rapper and fashion designer says he was misdiagnosed as bipolar in podcast appearance where he also opines on the Drake-Kendrick beef and new album Bully

Kanye West has said he was misdiagnosed with bipolar disorder, and has now been diagnosed as autistic.

Speaking to Justin Laboy on his podcast The Download, West, who now goes by the name Ye, said his wife Bianca Censori suggested he get rediagnosed. “I went to this doctor … My wife took me to do that because she said, ‘Something about your personality doesn’t feel like it’s bipolar, I’ve seen bipolar before.’ And I’ve come to find that it’s really a case of autism that I have.”

He said the diagnosis helped him better understand some of his behavioural patterns, such as in 2018 when he wore a cap reading Make America Great Again and praised Donald Trump, including saying “the mob can’t make me not love him”.

“Autism takes you to a Rain Man thing,” West said. “‘I’ma wear this Trump hat because I like Trump in general.’ And then when people tell you to not do it, you just get on that one point. And that’s my problem.

“When fans tell me to do my album a certain way, I’ll do it the opposite way,” he added, and referred to the title of his hit song Can’t Tell Me Nothing. He mentioned his friend and former manager Don C, saying: “It’s been so hard on him because he loves me. It’s so difficult for them, because this is like a grown man – you can’t take control of his bank account, you can’t control what I’m saying on Twitter.”

Autism is not a mental illness. But in 2020 Kim Kardashian, then West’s wife, similarly acknowledged the difficulty of managing West’s mental health. “Those that understand mental illness or even compulsive behaviour know that the family is powerless unless the member is a minor. People who are unaware or far removed from this experience can be judgmental and not understand that the individual themselves have to engage in the process of getting help no matter how hard family and friends try.”

West himself referred to his diagnosed bipolar disorder in numerous tracks, while the cover of his 2018 album ye features the jokey words: “I hate being Bi-Polar it’s awesome”.

West said: “A lot of what was sending me into those episodes … the constant feeling of not being in control spun me out of control,” citing the breakdown of his deal with Adidas, which ended its lucrative collaboration with the musician in 2022 after he made a series of antisemitic remarks.

West said he no longer takes medication for his mental health; as autism is not an illness, it is not medicated. “I haven’t taken the medication since I found out that bipolar wasn’t the right diagnosis. It’s finding stuff that doesn’t block the creativity, obviously that’s what I bring to the world. It’s worth the ramp-up, as long as y’all get the creativity.” He said he is watchful for episodes of poor mental health. “I watch for it beforehand – but if you get to the point it goes, you’re going to stay in that position for a while. It might go for three days, four days, a week. Some people if they get into it, you’ve got to put them in a place that’s not in public.”

Elsewhere in the interview, West said that his new album Bully would be released on his daughter North West’s birthday, 15 June. He said he has reconciled with Mike Dean, the producer who was one of his chief creative foils and appeared on all of his studio albums until a dispute between the pair meant Dean was not part of West’s two Vultures albums.

West said of Bully: “I feel like it is my Miseducation [of Lauryn Hill], my Gnarls Barkley album.”

He also said that the White Stripes were a major inspiration for a series of solo tracks, namely how Seven Nation Army would be chanted at football games. “I tried two times to do it: the first time was Black Skinhead. The second time was All Day – Paul McCartney wrote that melody [on his Wings song When the Wind Is Blowing].” West then repeated the chant motif on Carnival, his Vultures I single which topped the US chart in March 2024, making him the only rapper to have a US No 1 in three separate decades.

West also offered his thoughts on the beef between Kendrick Lamar and Drake – West and Drake previously had a dispute that ran across a number of tracks and public statements: “I was like: man, [Lamar] killed my nemesis!” West compared Drake to a superhero who “just goes away for a couple of films”, but said that it was only “for now … Drake added something to the algorithm, to our frequency, he advanced us. Future advanced us, now Kendrick has advanced the frequency … if you don’t really learn as a professional rapper, as a sport, what Kendrick is doing, you might be wiped out.

“I’m the greatest that ever existed, and other people shouldn’t feel that, because I’m here … But if you’re going to rap against Kendrick, you will lose.”

West caused controversy this week after he turned up to the Grammys alongside Censori, the latter wearing a revealing sheer minidress. The outfit was seen as unnecessarily provocative by some, while others suggested it was a form of coercion by West. West himself framed it as a collaboration, writing on X: “We tailored that invisible dress 6 times and just like magic poof we disappeared”, and cited her “rightful strength”.

Asked about the couple’s appearance, Raj Kapoor, executive producer of the Grammys acknowledged that the “artistic black tie” dress code at the awards is “open to interpretation”, adding: “Obviously there is a dress code for anybody actually performing on the show that we have to adhere to standards and practices. But as far as people attending and nominees attending, that would be something the Academy would have to answer.”

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[zenkindoflove]

Okay, some OC questions for you:

1 Who would be Alexius’ favorite drag queen on RuPaul’s Drag Race? (Any season)

2 What kind of swimsuit would Alexius wear to the beach? (Pictures required)

3 What is Alexius’ favorite reality TV show?

4 What is a show that Alexius and Eris would watch together?

5 What would his order be at Denny’s?

6 Does Alexius smoke weed? How often? If he doesn’t, why not?

7 If Alexius ever came to life, how would you try to introduce yourself?

8 Alexius does not work with Pegasus anymore. Instead, he works with (pick only one): camels, giraffes, donkeys, reindeer, or elephants. Explain your choice

9 As a fashion icon, how does Alexius feel about plaid?

10 What DND class would Alexius be?

11 Would Eris still love Alexius if he was a worm 🪱🥺?

Omg, Alexius questions!!! For me?!? I love talking about him so much. 🥺

1 Who would be Alexius’ favorite drag queen on RuPaul’s Drag Race? (Any season)

Alexius would definitely be going to the bar every week to watch the show with his friends, get tipsy, and yell at the TV. Alexius just likes to have a good time, and he is entertained easily, so I don't see him being a stickler for any one genre of drag - Like he would gasp at Violet Chacki's itty bitty synched waists or clap his hands when Kennedy Davenport dances and does a death drop. He would do Alyssa Edward-ism vocal stims and love the humor of queens like Bob the Drag Queen and Bianca Del Rio. I think Alexius would just love drag and he would definitely would try to support his his drag friends getting on the show.

2 What kind of swimsuit would Alexius wear to the beach? (Pictures required)

Definitely bright colored speedos and accessorizing with big floppy hats. Alexius always has to show off his body and if it's allowed, he would go naked.

Pictures from my faceclaim for Alexius - Rayan Ricci's instagram (which I'm sure is why you asked for pictures because you know I would have some)

3 What is Alexius’ favorite reality TV show?

Outside of RPDR, Alexius for sure likes the messy dating shows for the drama and other competition shows. I don't actually think he'd be pulled in much by Real Housewives and The Kardashians, but he definitely watches clips to get references.

4 What is a show that Alexius and Eris would watch together?

I think that Eris' guilty pleasure would be watching interior design shows so he can critique the choices made, and Alexius loves to watch with him so that he can play devil's advocate and say he likes something that is cheap and gaudy to rile Eris up. I also think would get deep into premiere television shows like White Lotus and Succession. And even if he's a huge snob about it, Eris never misses sitting down and watching Alexius' trashy reality shows with him.

5 What would his order be at Denny’s?

So I actually pulled up their menu to get this lol. But basically lots of protein because Alexius needs to maintain his gains, but he needs a little sweet. So I see him going for something like the Lumberjack Slam (ham, bacon, sausage, eggs, hashbrown, bread) with a side of french toast.

6 Does Alexius smoke weed? How often? If he doesn’t, why not?

Yes, I think Alexius would have a good time on it. He's not a highly anxious person, and I see him starting out to vibe with his friends and then enjoying the sensation. I think he swings between recreational use and doing it every now and again when he's alone at home or just him and Eris.

7 If Alexius ever came to life, how would you try to introduce yourself?

I'm incredibly shy and introverted - so someone that is as boisterous and immediately charming and social as Alexius is hard for me to approach. I would basically put myself in his vicinity and hope he talks to me first.

8 Alexius does not work with Pegasus anymore. Instead, he works with (pick only one): camels, giraffes, donkeys, reindeer, or elephants. Explain your choice

Omg, this is HARD. I think that camels make a lot of sense for the Day Court aesthetic and that he could still ride them is a big plus. I saw a video recently of a camel adopted on a horse rescue ranch and omg, what a big silly guy. I think Alexius would adore a camel and he would quickly adapt to whatever weird idiosyncrasies they have. Though I could see Alexius with a donkey that he adores. Maybe that is more of a pet than a profession. Alexius maybe always keeps a donkey around no matter what animals he's working with haha. I think for giraffes, reindeers, and elephants, he would chat up and ask a hundred questions to the people who do work with them and definitely want to interact, but maybe not devote his life to working with them.

9 As a fashion icon, how does Alexius feel about plaid?

I think he loves a loud pattern and that's how he would wear plaid. I also think working with horses he has a few plaid shirt, of course. So overall, I think Alexius is a fan.

10 What DND class would Alexius be?

I had to ask my husband this because he is the DND guy. Every trait I listed off about Alexius he said Bard - and even when I said "he loves working with animals". Apparently that is also a wisdom bards can have. We looked into bard colleges and Glamour seemed to fit the most. So yeah, probably very predictable and basic but you can't argue with the characterization.

11 Would Eris still love Alexius if he was a worm 🪱🥺?

Eris discovering that his super hot, charismatic mate has turned into a worm - oh god, the picture I have in my mind is hilarious. 😂 Basically Eris would sigh in exasperation wondering what the hell Alexius has gotten himself into to get in this circumstance. And while he prepared a nice little soil home for him, he'd be scolding him for his foolishness the whole time. So yes, Eris would adore Alexius, even if he were a worm. But he would make it a point to turn him back because worms are icky and he needs his sexy, muscle mate back. And even if it gives him the peace and quiet he has complained about needing, he really misses hearing Alexius yap non step or singing songs at top volume when he's just hanging around their house.

[the-good-bad-truth]

Pretty Megan Fox is actually poisonous

In Hollywood, Megan Fox was always portrayed as this hot, bad maneater girl that would say what she wanted when she wanted, even if it was appropriate or not. However, people that praise her for her “rebel” persona, dismiss a lot of her toxic behavior and inappropriate things

1.Says things, gets backlash, but instead of taking accountability for the words she CHOOSES to say, she blames others(media/society)

Made it seem like MGK cheated on her by using a Beyonce lemonade lyric, started following Eminem (previous beef with mgk), then responded to a comment that said he(mgk) probably cheated on her with Sophie (mgk’s female guitarist (who has long-time bf) --led to Sophie getting hate for a week until Megan decided to respond by saying this:

She blamed the media for a rumor that she caused whether that was her intention or not, she also dismissed the hate that Sophie was getting by making it seem like it was an initiation for Sophie

Attended a boxing event and later said this about Trump “He was a legend. That arena was very supportive of Trump when he came in.” she got backlash about this cuz trump is a controversial figure to say the least and she responded by saying and once again blaming "uneducated people":

Referred to Michael Bay “He wants to be like Hitler on set and he is” she was fired cuz of this even if Michael didn’t take offense to this but Steven Spielberg (transformer producer, who is Jewish) took offense, rightfully so.

How u going to compare a dictator who k millions of people to someone whose your boss, working on a film u signed up for?

Uses her Bisexuality as a marketing tool

This is going to sound controversial, but I have my doubts that Megan fox is bisexual, or she at least uses it for the male gaze or female gaze as well.

Her bisexual awakening story: "Well, that year my boyfriend broke up with me, and I decided - oh man, sorry, mommy! - that I was in love with this girl that worked at the Body Shop," said Fox. "I decided that I was going to get her to love me back, and I went out of my way to create a relationship with this girl, a stripper named Nikita."

Fox said Nikita would do "these beautiful slow dances to Aerosmith ballads." The actress also said she would bring the Russian stripper gifts and try to inspire her to quit her line of work.

This is weird that she went for a girl after a failed relationship with a man and also that she was trying to "Save" this girl from this type of work.

Bisexual means a person who is attracted to and can fall in love with a man or woman. Megan is Bisexual, she can fall in love with both, so isn’t it inappropriate that she posed with Kourtney Kardashian in a sort of sexual manner or that she jokingly asks Adriana lima on a date or made a caption saying, “Currently seeking a gf, submit applications in dms.”  while still in a relationship w/mgk.

This may be reaching but isn’t that kind of weird cuz what if mgk posed with Halsey and she was sitting on his lap or if used the same captions, he would be getting called out? Right? cuz as she said in an interview, he's not allowed to have girls in his music videos, it's the queen or no one.

How she love bombs or manipulates those around her

Called him her twin flame, stronger than a soulmate knowing that mgk is a sensitive person and that she can manipulate him by making him and others believe that he is the one and she can heal him

“Megan added: "I think it was the second day, I asked him to come into my trailer for lunch, and I put him through all of this astrology stuff." 

She added: "I went deep right away. I knew before I even did his chart, I said to him, he has a Pisces moon. I could tell by his energy."

Got his nickname tatted on her collarbone to show that she is dedicated to him after barely dating a few months.

Trip to Costa Rica: "So we went to Costa Rica to do ayahuasca in a proper setting with indigenous people," Fox said, referring to the psychoactive tea, which is used as a spiritual medicine and can cause hallucinations. "... So I was thinking it was like glamping, like it was gonna be some kind of five-star experience.

Though the actress said she and her rocker beau had reservations about throwing up, which she described as a necessary step, the Transformers star called it "such a good bonding experience" overall.

This trip was her idea since they did it around the time of her birthday and she might have gaslit him into doing this. Could be jokes, but y is she making it seem that this religious ceremony of Costa Rican natives seems like she was going to a spa trip.

Romanticizes toxicity or trauma.

Dressed up as Pamela Anderson and tommy lee for halloween and used the caption: “But are these even costumes.”

If u don’t know pam/tommy were a toxic relationship that was exploited by hollywood and also Tommy went to prison for 6mths after hitting Pam while she was holding their son.

“Do you think you have a death wish?” the radio host asked MGK, whose birth name is Colson Baker. “That was actually a text that Megan had sent me, it was something along the lines of ‘if we have to live a life where we have to see each other with different people, then we should just go out murder/suicide,’” the singer responded.

Poem she wrote about their relationship: the tale of two outcasts and star-crossed lovers caught in the throes of a torrid, solar flare of a romance featuring: feverish obsession, guns, addiction, Shamans, lots of blood, general mayhem, therapy, tantric night terror, binding rituals, chakra sound baths, psychedelic hallucinations, organic smoothies, and the kind of sex that would make Lucifer clutch his rosary.”

Rehab Barbie nickname, based on the song, contain lyrics such as 

“They took away all your credit

But you know how you can get it

Your father's dying of cancer

Your intervention is the answer

You'll say that you don't really need it”

His father died of cancer by the way, but maybe it’s just a cute nickname for her, I guess.

Makes light or doesn’t acknowledge serious topics

A politician accused megan of forcing a gender on her son,(which never involve children for you political agenda) and she responded by saying:

"I really don’t want to give you this attention because clearly you're a clout chaser but let me teach you something," Fox wrote. "Irregardless of how -0desperate you may become at any given time to acquire wealth, power, success, or fame - never use children as leverage or social currency, especially under malevolent and erroneous pretense of exploiting my child’s gender identity to gain attention in your political campaign has put you on the wrong side of the universe."

She then followed this up by making a joke of the whole situation, which i found a little bit weird cuz she made it seem like it was just a hater or someone coming after her cuz she's a "Witch" not someone coming for her child:

She got rid of her Marilyn Monroe tattoo because “Megan said that Marilyn "was a negative person" and also called her "disturbed" due to rumors of Monroe's mental health challenges. Further, the actress elaborated that she felt that having Marilyn's face tatted on her would "attract this kind of negative energy."

Goes to Hawaii all the time even though natives have been saying not to go cuz their land is being taken and our suffering financially.

Made fun/imitated Britney spears voice.

Used a Human trafficking poster in her post where she alluded to him cheating, which she later claimed it was the media's fault.

Anger Issues

Threatened to stab brian, no guns allowed or she would shoot him

She said: “My temper is ridiculously bad. I’ve had to say to Brian, ‘You have to go and stop talking to me, because I’m going to kill you. I’m going to stab you with something, please leave.’ ”

The 23-year-old star admits she is so worried about her emotional reactions, she won’t let herself be around firearms incase she injured Brian.

She added to Rolling Stone magazine: “I’d never own a gun for that reason. I wouldn’t shoot to kill. But I would shoot him in the leg, for sure.”

Fox has previously confessed she finds on-screen violence “sexy”.

Scribbled in marker like a child throwing a tantrum, poems on the wall after she got mad at him.

Alter ego when she’s mad at mgk is named “jennifer check”

In conclusion, Megan fox is not that innocent as she claims to be. Yes, she has probably faced misogyny and other potentially traumatic things in Hollywood or in life. However, this should not excuse or dismiss her toxic tendencies.

p.s this is probably just a few of the problematic things she has done or said.

[coochiequeens]

Gay men and the wealthy are no longer content to exploit one woman now exploiting two at the same is becoming trendy

Why have one baby when you can have 2? People are paying $500,000 to hire 2 surrogates at once and have 'twiblings'

By Kelsey Vlamis  Jul 16, 2024, 3:04 PM EDT

Some people are hiring two surrogates at the same time to carry their babies.

Concurrent surrogacy can be complicated and costly, with prices reaching up to $500,000 or more.

Many people who do it are in their 40s and trying to build out their family quickly.

Bill Houghton still vividly remembers the moment he met his son.

He was sitting in the hospital waiting room, right outside the birthing room, when a nurse appeared carrying a little green bundle.

"I just held him in my arms and just started crying. It was so overwhelming. My husband was like, 'Oh my God, I can't believe that this is it. We're a family,'" Houghton told Business Insider. "This is my son."

Just one week later, Houghton and his husband would have the same experience all over again when their second child, another son, was delivered.

"And it has been like that ever since," he said. "To this day, I still look at them and I think, 'Oh my God, these are my sons.' My father had sons. I never thought that I would have a son."

Houghton and his husband opted to become parents via concurrent surrogacy — a process in which two surrogates are hired to carry two babies at the same, or overlapping, time.

The resulting children can be born anywhere from one week apart, like Houghton's, to nine months apart, and have been referred to by some people in the industry as "tandem siblings" or "twiblings."

Surrogacy agencies told BI that concurrent surrogacy journeys are not uncommon, with some saying it's a rising trend in a growing industry that was valued at $14 billion in 2022 by Global Market Insights and has attracted the investments of private equity firms.

All kinds of people — couples or singles, straight or gay, young or old — have opted to build out their family two at a time via concurrent surrogacy. But there is one thing that most parents of twiblings have in common: the ability to afford them.

While Houghton hired surrogates abroad, couples who choose to go through US-based agencies can easily spend $300,000 to half a million dollars or more on concurrent surrogates, according to five surrogacy agencies that spoke to BI.

"It is a luxury, absolutely," Brooke Kimbrough, cofounder and CEO of Roots Surrogacy, told BI. "Most American families don't have $200,000 in cash to go through surrogacy generally, and then $400,000-plus in cash to be able to go through that twice at the same time."

Still, the use of concurrent surrogates could grow as surrogacy generally grows in the US, in part because celebrities like Kim Kardashian and Chrissy Teigen have started opening up about using surrogates, as well as depictions in film and TV that have made the practice more mainstream. Teigen was even pregnant at the same time as her surrogate.

Surrogacy is also becoming increasingly relevant as more and more people are opting to have kids and start building their families later in life.

Chrissy Teigen and John Legend have opened up about using a surrogate. Dimitrios Kambouris/Getty Images for Sports Illustrated Swimsuit

Concurrent surrogacy can help build a family quickly

Concurrent journeys typically look like regular surrogacy journeys, just times two. Gestational surrogacy, when IVF is used to place a fertilized embryo into a surrogate, is the most common form of surrogacy in the US today. Parents can use their own egg and sperm or that of donors.

Like many gay couples, Houghton and his husband each used their sperm for one of the babies, as well as the same egg donor, so their sons are technically half brothers.

While there has been increased awareness around what some call "social surrogacy" — using a surrogate when it's not medically or biologically necessary — the majority of people who conceive via surrogacy do so because they have to.

"Typically, when people come to us, they've been through a lot. This is not their plan A, it's often not plan B, maybe it's plan C," Kim Bergman, a psychologist and senior partner at Growing Generations, told BI. "They've had a lot of disappointment, and they've had a lot of trials and tribulations."

Many hopeful parents are in their 40s and are simply eager to build their families, the agencies said. A surrogacy journey can easily take one and a half to two years, so for intended parents who know they want multiple kids, concurrent surrogates can be appealing.

Certainly, some people who opt for concurrent surrogates do not fit the definition of medically necessary, at least according to the standards laid out by the American Society for Reproductive Medicine (ASRM).

Some people have mental health reasons or a fear of giving birth. Others are actors or brain surgeons who spend 12 hours a day on their feet and who can't get pregnant and continue to do their jobs. All the surrogacy agencies BI spoke with said it's essentially never the case that someone opts for surrogacy simply for vanity reasons.

David Sher, founder and CEO of Elite IVF, told BI they've helped coordinate surrogates for celebrities, politicians, and people in demanding careers like finance or tech. He said he currently has a client who serves on the cabinet of a Western country and is trying to have a baby via surrogate in part due to her demanding schedule.

Sher said he thinks concurrent surrogacy has long been an option for intended parents but that there does seem to be an uptick in people who are opting to do it.

Part of the reason for that could be because fewer and fewer agencies are willing to do double embryo transfers, which were previously more common and could result in a twin pregnancy. The ASRM recommends against them, as twin pregnancies come with heightened risks for both the surrogate and the babies. So concurrent surrogacy is a safer option for intended parents who want to have two kids at the same time or in close succession.

Costly and complicated

Though it's viewed as a safer option, concurrent surrogacy is controversial. The ASRM guidelines actually recommend against concurrent surrogacy, as well as against social, or not medically necessary, surrogacy. But all five surrogacy agencies that BI spoke to will facilitate concurrent surrogacies.

The agencies said they've seen many concurrent surrogacy journeys be successful and that a lot of care and prior planning goes into making them happen.

"It's not taken lightly," Bergman said, adding that concurrent journeys are rarely chosen by 30-year-olds who have plenty of time to build their families, though that does occasionally happen.

Surrogacy, in general, is expensive — commonly ranging from $150,000 to $250,000 for one child. The costs go toward surrogate compensation, agency fees, legal fees for contracts, and clinical bills.

The agencies BI spoke with said a concurrent surrogacy journey would essentially cost twice that. Meaning there's no two-for-one special.

But cost isn't the only factor to consider. Perhaps the primary drawback to pursuing concurrent surrogacy (that is, besides the high price tag) is the logistics of it.

All the agencies emphasized that concurrent surrogacy should only be pursued with full transparency and the fully informed consent of every person involved. That means matching intended parents to surrogates who are fully aware and OK with the fact that they will not be the only surrogate.

Gestational surrogacy, in which a fertilized embryo is implanted in a surrogate, is most common in the US. Jay L. Clendenin/for The Washington Post/Getty Images

There's also tons of planning and talking through hypotheticals. Are the surrogates based in the same area? Can the parents attend both births? Are we staggering expected delivery times enough? What's the plan if one surrogate gets pregnant on the first try but the other doesn't?

There's also a psychological aspect. Will both surrogates feel fully supported? How will one feel if she doesn't get pregnant right away and the other does?

"All of these conversations are front-loaded. Anytime in the conversation, the surrogate can say, 'I'm not comfortable doing this,'" Bergman said, adding that sometimes, after thinking through the logistics, some parents will change their minds and plan to space the deliveries out further than they initially wanted, like to six or nine months.

Most agencies recommended staggering the planned deliveries by at least three months. But at the end of the day, parents need to be ready for the timeline to not go exactly as planned.

Houghton and his husband had actually planned to have their babies six weeks apart, but when one of the babies was born five weeks premature, they ended up with birthdays one week apart.

Concurrent surrogacy may not be for everyone — even if you can afford it

Although the cost of concurrent surrogacy makes it prohibitive for most people, that could change in the future as more and more companies expand their fertility benefits.

There are also more nonprofits popping up that will provide grants or partial funds to people who want to build their families via surrogacy but may not have the means to.

Jarret Zafran, founder and executive director at Brownstone Surrogacy, told BI that it's not necessarily only the ultrawealthy who pursue concurrent surrogacy. He said he currently has clients who are lifelong educators on the older side who are getting ready to start the surrogacy process. They recently asked about what it would look like for them to do a concurrent journey.

"I guess it is still a luxury in the sense that most Americans would not even be in a financial position to afford it the first time," Zafran, who also had a child with his husband through surrogacy, said. "But for them, this is not a frivolous decision, and they're scraping together every single little penny that they have, all of their savings, their retirement funds, and I get it."

By using surrogates abroad over a decade ago, Houghton and his husband, who are based in Spain, spent much less on their concurrent surrogates than they would have in the US. But he's still not totally sure why they chose to do concurrent journeys rather than space the children out a bit more.

"We just liked the idea of having two kids that were about the same age that would sort of grow up together," he said, adding, "I didn't realize at the time the challenges that would come with having two kids."

In reality, he said having the two boys grow up so close together in age, not twins but in the same class in school, ended up leading to a lot of conflict and constant competition as they were growing up. He said it has gotten better now that the boys are facing their teen years and developing their own identities.

Still, if he could do it over again, he thinks he would stagger them more.

"They're unbelievable young men, and I'm so proud of everything about them," he said. "But having the two together has been a challenge."

Have a news tip or a story to share about concurrent surrogacy? Contact this reporter at kvlamis@businessinsider.com.

If a brain surgeon or politician can't do their job while pregnant have they thought about how kids in general will impact their job? What if their kid wakes them up the night before surgery because they got of had a nightmare? Are they counting on a reliable spouse or a nanny to take care to the unpleasant parts of parenting.

Finally at the very end of the article they address how being born so close together impacts kids. We're they really surprised that there was a lot of competition? And they article just touched on how one of the twins was born 5 weeks premature. That means at one week old the dudes in charge of its care were focused on its twibling. Considering that surrogacy pregnancies are more likely to have complications do the parents consider how they will care for one baby while another baby is in the hospital longer than expected?

[pepperstories]

Dirty Talk | Joseph Quinn | Best Friend Series

I'm thinking about making this a series. Basically, I have the idea of two best friends, in loads of movies/tv series together normally as a "couple" because of chemistry. But this will be angsty and fluffy...but yeah. Poll below, please tell me what to do!

Enjoy a taster! ❤️

warnings: smoking, coffee, sex chat, vagina's, coffee, joe has a best friend who is also a co-star.

“Seagull saves helpless kitten from Dam.”

“Kim Kardashian slays again with latex all in one.”

“Man cheats on wife with toaster.”

“How well do YOU know your body? It’s all about the A-spot.”

 

As far as online new headlines went, your perked interest at the last coveting heading had her hooked. It was a sweltering Sunday morning in London.

The flat you shared with your room mate was basked in early morning sunrise and ever window was opened to ease the tempering heat. The small flat sat adjacent to the bustling Borough Market and already queues of local’s and tourists anticipated the opening of the various street vendors and markets.

You could hear the cries of babies, the excited chatter of friends and the roller shutters slamming to welcome the growing crowds.

Although London was not your homeland, you basked in the sweet atmosphere that the growing City had to offer. And Sundays were always filled with greasy pub made burgers, ice cold pints in the beer gardens and the soft stagger home at teatime for toast and tea in front of the telly. You could hardly wait.

The article, however, pulled your attention away from the light commotion outside. The Cosmopolitan hyperlink page attached to the “How to make your sex life unforgettable” flashed bright on your screen. The various light pinks and borderline provocative images of peaches with thongs wrapped around them indicating to you what sort of article you were about to read.

An article highlighting that you did in fact have NO idea about your own anatomy. A new erogenous zone located in furthest region on your intimate anatomy that engrossed you further. The “wet zone” was the cute name that referred to this new piece of information.

 

“You reading fanfictions about yourself again?” The startling voice of your best friend and current roommate caused the phone to slightly jump from your hands. A hand to your chest, you threw a glare at the bed headed male strutting towards you with a flat white in one hand and an unlit cigarette in the other.

 

“I done that ONCE and don’t pretend you don’t read smut about yourself.” Too preoccupied with the article at hand, you took no notice of him sitting across from you. The small patio set they purchased just days before and placed into the small nook by the large bay windows.

“I have and I do, on a regular basis because that’s the only action this stud muffin is getting.” He sipped his coffee after the fact and proceeded to light the perfectly constructed roll up. Slightly offended that he never rolled one for you.

“Join the club mate.” Although it was only a mutter, the article itself hammered home just how deprived you really were.

“What are you reading anyways? You’re all hunched up over there?” He inhaled the smoke and released through his nostrils like a dragon. His steaming hot coffee took turns on his lips with the much needed nicotine stick. 

“Oh, just an article telling me how clueless I am about the female anatomy.” Shrugging at your own words, you weren't wrong. His eyes seemed to perk slightly, an intrigue that caused him to sit forward more in his seat. 

“Well, look no further. I am the man for the job.” 

Making grabby hands at his friend, Joe decided that this article would further fuel his knowledge on the female anatomy should he one day have a day off to use it. Staring at him over the bridge of your nose, you handed your iPhone to him. He glanced and read. He pondered and hummed. His face showing the same level of surprise and slight arousal that you had when you clicked on the link. 

“Jesus, how many fucking zones do you have? You’re all worse than the London Underground.” He laughed at his own attempt at a joke but realised the woman in front of him was still processing the information. 

“If there really is an area in the vagina that makes you instantly wet, how in God’s name does it take so much effort to actually get there?” Your sudden frustrated outburst gave Joe the insight into his best friend and co-stars sex life.

You both had conversations like this all the time. You grew up together, you had scenes together similar to a loving relationship and he only just realised the predicament. You both haven’t had a proper relationship in years. 

“You don’t get wet during foreplay?” He was always brash with his questions. He never liked to tiptoe, especially with her. 

“I mean, yeaaah, but the “Wax on, wax off” motion only gets you so far.” Doing the motion with your hands caused him to choke on his coffee. The cheeky laugh echoing in their small flat making you smile.

It was true. You both had "relations" but never anything past a second or third date. Get in, get the job done and "see you later". With scheduling issues and consistent travelling, you realised that your one night stands were whittling away all the sexual desires you used to have.


“When was the last time you had sex?” You asked him. His face was still buried in the phone, zoomed in on a detailed pdf of the inner mechanisms of the female anatomy. He seemed to look off slightly, like he was calculating a large sum in his head. 

“About 4 months ago?” He winced slightly. The interaction with said female was awkward and downright…forgettable. You nodded slightly, tugging a chapped bottom lip between your teeth. 

“You?” His eyebrow raised slightly, locking your iPhone, and placing it in the middle of the table. You didn’t go for it right away as you too calculated the exact moment you had sex. 

“About 8 months ago.” He hissed slightly, drawing a breath in through puckered lips as he felt the pain in his stomach for you. You huffed slightly and picked up the phone to scroll further into the supermassive blackhole of the Cosmopolitan website. 

“How many orgasms is too many?” You repeated out loud, huffing again at the article title, you threw the blasted contraption back on to the table. That got you thinking. 

“I had sex 8 months ago, but it doesn’t mean that I’m not satisfied.” You laughed slightly. His eyes peaked as he laughed the smoke out of his mouth. The end of the roll up was always your favourite and you made a peace sign towards him, and he simply cradled the wrinkled cigarette in between your fingers.

“Getting yourself off isn’t the same as sex. It might scratch the itch, but it certainly doesn’t satisfy.” He rolled the “s” out a little too long as he sat back in his chair, watching you eb the remnants of his cigarette. 

“Yeah but, the sex I had 8 months ago was basically me doing all the hard work. Sure he was fiiiiine but there was no…earth shattering, knee quacking, burst of white light orgasm at the end of it." You pulled your legs down from the seat and faced your friend head on. He leaned further forward, matching you. Your elbows on the table and leaned close like they were gossiping schoolgirls.

"Have you ever had that? That laying on your back afterwards, no words coming to mind. You can’t quite catch your breath and process what just happened.” It almost came out like a sigh and Joe heard the longing in your voice. It was captivating. 

“Maybe when I was 18?” You knew who he was talking about. Samantha Smith, a twenty-four year old post graduate law student whose name fell right out of the pages of Nuts magazine. A minor in gymnastics and a major in blow jobs as he described it one day. 

“Did you ever hook up again with Sammy Sizzler?” Your childish nickname for the woman was only given in jest as you knew the woman was quite smitten with a young Joseph.

“Did I fuck. She was shagging half the rugby team at her university and had a terrible habit of thinking that ever guy liked a finger up the bum.” The hysterical laughter couldn’t be helped. You imagined your best friend flinching at the very prospect of a sneaky backdoor fingering. Wiping tears from your eyes, your cringing friend sat crossed armed and looked pained from the memory of it. 

“You said she gave the best blow job AND that she could contort herself like a balloon animal.” You said this whilst laughing and he decided to join you. It was an experience to behold and as an 18 year old, shy drama geek, he was opened to all opportunities. He wasn’t exactly in the position to be picky, and he just decided that the older woman’s taste in sexual prowess was too rich for his blood.

“She did but it was slightly off putting. She contorted herself so much that I couldn’t find where I was supposed to go.” This started another round of high pitched laughter and table slapping from his best friend.

“Have you ever had the "earth shattering, knee quacking, burst of white light" orgasm?” He swooned when he quoted you, and you didn’t appreciate the mocking in his voice. 

“I haven’t. That’s what I’m getting at.” Placing your palms flat on the table, you pulled yourself out of the seat. You needed a coffee and a cigarette to further fuel the very conversation you were about to have. You couldn’t be sat in front of your best friend whilst describing what you really experienced. 

“You remember Evan? Tall, blonde with the birthmark on his forehead?” He nodded.

“Evan Almighty?.” He added for dramatic effect, using the same mocking tone you used earlier when describing his “best orgasm”.

With a roll of your eyes, the few paces it took to enter the small kitchen wasn’t far enough away for your liking. A balled up tea towel was launched at his head and when he caught it, he waved it like a white flag.

“He done this thing with his mouth. I can’t explain it.” Leaning against the counter, you looked up at the light as you began scrolling through the many pages of your brain for a verb best to describe the man’s talent.

Switching on the coffee machine, the loud hum of the machinery as well as the drumming of your fingers on the counter distracted you slightly from the thoughts. 

“He was so attentive. It was like he was going to stop at nothing. It went on for so long that I can’t even remember if we actually had sex.” You laughed at yourself. You were 19 when you met Evan at the pub. You left Joe at the bar with your Mum and Dad to speak to the Welsh soon-to-be accountant.

Exchanging numbers, you both left it the right amount of time to contact each other before meeting up for dinner and drinks. 

“What happened?” Joe stood up from his seat and walked to stand next to you in the small kitchen, placing his empty cup beside the coffee machine like the queue of cups you see in Starbucks. You simply shrugged at the question and replaced your now full cup with his and switching the coffee pods. 

“He never called. Never texted. Just…vanished.” You realised now that you never had sex because he had been going down on you so long, that he finished against your university hall bedsheets and didn’t quite have the stamina to go again.

“I think he was dry humping the mattress and finished too fast.” You were breathy and clammy at the thought. It could have been minutes or even hours, but you felt absolutely exhilarated after it.

Like the first real draw of a cigarette without the coughing or the taste of an artisan coffee on holiday with new rich flavours and ceramic cups that just added to the tasing pleasure. 

“Rookie.” Was all he muttered as he flipped the switch of the coffee machine.

You simply rolled your eyes at his clear showmanship of masculinity. Grabbing the pouch tobacco and the utensils for rolling, you sat back in your patio chair again. 

“You’re telling me that you’ve never had a “quick draw” moment?” Scoffing at Joe, he sat heavily into his seat, sploshing coffee onto their new table. He pondered slightly. 

“Maybe when I was fourteen.” He sipped. A smug looking smirk on his face when you side eyed him. Rolling expertly, you flicked a cigarette in his direction and continued rolling for yourself.

“Fourteen? Really? You do realise I’ve been your best friend for near 18 years, and I never seen you even remotely interested in women at that age.” The last couple of words were mumbled as you placed the cigarette between your lips. Lighting it with the shared zippo, you leaned back on your seat as you watched him gasp. 

“We’ve been best friends for 18 years?” He was genuinely surprised at the revelation. Although you came from different parts of the country, you met during a Junior induction week at LAMDA. Yet to finish school, their parents encouraged both of you to pursue your dream of acting and decided the necessary cost was there to help them achieve it.

Meeting every summer for 6 weeks to do your summer courses before finally enrolling in your undergraduate course. You both worked alongside each other in just about every series and movie given to you. You never had one without the other.

“Yep. 18 years of knowing you babe.” Winking at him, you raised your cup to cheers him. His eyes softening at the gesture as he clinked his “Don’t fucking talk to me before coffee” mug with your “Don't look at me cunt” mug. Christmas gifts you both got for each other when money was tight. 

“Jesus, that long eh? How can we stomach each other?” He jested. His coffee seemed sweeter and more aromatic because you made it for him. The bitter taste of Columbian Roast still heavy on his tongue as he sucked the cigarette. 

“I know right?” You sighed contently into your coffee mug as a comfortable silence eased between you both. 

“So…” He started. 

“What was the thing he done with his tongue?”

Remember to follow, reblog! Interact with me! I love to write and I have so many ideas...but I need a baseline!

[saintmeghanmarkle]

OPINION: If the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again while expecting a different result then MM is allegedly insane. by u/jones29876

OPINION: If the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again while expecting a different result, then MM is allegedly insane. All of this is happening because she acted like she launched ARO before it was a business - she even paid journalists to talk about how disappointed she was to the reaction to her launch and yet it wasn't a launch at all. And now she does the same thing, she releases a name change with no products - acts like it's a launch, and gets this backlash; again it seems there will be problems with the name.Kim Kardashian changed from Kimono to Skims with zero drama and she's way more high-profile than MM - she's better at doing what MM seems to want to do and yet here goes MM launching another brand prematurely creating drama for herself and her "partners". When will she learn her lesson - no one believes the victim narrative anymore so this is all on her.Apparently she is the type to continue to bang her head against a wall despite not getting the desired result. Must be fun working with her!!!PS if you want to steal our content for your articles and YouTube shows you could at least reference the sub - I don't want credit personally but this sub is generating a lot of ideas for anti-MM content creators and they should at least acknwledge us. A concept pops up here and then six - 12 hours later its the thesis of an article or the topic for a video... post link: https://ift.tt/qlCmkcr author: jones29876 submitted: February 22, 2025 at 08:11PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[foxes-that-run]

Kendall Jenner Can't Date Taylor Swift's Ex Harry Styles--That's Just, Like, the Rules of Feminism

Zimmerman, Amy.  The Daily Beast The Newsweek/Daily Beast Company LLC. Jan 5, 2016. (x)

If you're skeptical that Swift would really give a shit about a short-lived relationship that ended approximately three years ago, don't be. Swift gives about 5 million shits about Harry Styles.

Tabloids are aflutter with news of a 'split' in Taylor Swift's crew of beautiful, famous Eskimo sisters--oh, the horror!

This New Year's Eve, Kendall Jenner revealed every powerful girl squad's Achilles heel: boys. More specifically, boys with tattoos, accents, a gift for harmonizing, and a certain joie de vivre. As a conscientious, news-reading citizen, you're probably aware that while you were desperately hitting up Tinder for a midnight booty kiss, great-looking "couple" Kendall Jenner and Harry Styles were re-debuting their relationship aboard a Caribbean yacht. Jenner, Styles, and their striking bone structures had dinner together Dec. 29, then headed to St. Barts for some caught-on-camera nuzzling (what our esteemed colleagues over at ET Online refer to as a "steamy lip-lock").

Unless you have a Google alert set for #squad drama, it would be easy to file this fling under "hot young people fooling around for fun" and forget about it. But you know who never forgets anything? Taylor fucking Swift. That girl might have the body of a giraffe on a juice cleanse, but she has the memory of an elephant (and the belly button of an animal that doesn't have a belly button).

You don't have to tell Swift that Jenner and Styles might be dating again--because she already knows, and it's "beyond weird" to her--and you definitely don't have to remind her that she and Styles had their own fling, starting in 2012 and ending in January of 2013. Sure, Jenner and Styles were linked for a few months back in late 2013 and early 2014, but that was before Swift got serious about her close-knit, photogenic, gluten-free, female friend group.

In this post-"Bad Blood" era, you're either with Tay Tay or against her--so the potential defection of an OG squad member like Jenner has got to hurt. If there's one rule in Swift-ville (in addition to mandatory weigh-ins and wearing pink on Wednesdays), it's respecting Swift's dibs. Taylor has designed a masterful, yet fragile house of cards composed of beautiful, famous Eskimo sisters; choosing sex with a Swift ex over sleepovers with Swift simply isn't done--that's just like, the rules of feminism.

If you're skeptical that Swift would really give a shit about a short-lived relationship that ended approximately three years ago, don't be. Swift gives about 5 million shits about Harry Styles. Look no further than her new music video for "Out of the Woods," which Swift coincidentally dropped on New Year's Eve. The latest single from 1989 "Out of the Woods" references numerous Haylor milestones, like the snowmobile accident the celebrity couple got in together, and an ethereal blue dress that resembles the infamous outfit Taylor wore as she left a vacation with Harry Styles alone after an "almighty row."

Even more convincingly, the lyrics of "Out of the Woods" cite Styles' paper airplane necklace, which Swift was spotted wearing around the genesis of Haylor. In the video, Swift angrily rips off the necklace, proving that while Swift might be technically done with her old relationship, you still wouldn't want to meet her in a dark alley (especially if you're Kendall Jenner and Harry Styles, and really tan from your recent romantic getaway in St. Barts).

Basically, what we've got here is a potential fissure in the girl squad. Naturally, the Kardashians are over the moon about the high-profile "relationship," with sources citing both momager Kris Jenner and lil' sis Kylie Jenner's emphatic approval. According to said sources, Kylie hopes that Kendall's new beau will distract her from Tyga-triggered jealously issues, while Kris "adores Harry and has never seen Kendall happier." So while Kendall will doubtlessly have to face Swift's wrath (as well as the inevitable disappointment of "Kendall Jenner is a lesbian,") at least No. 1 Kardashian Kylie is on board.

[bellaswan-kinnie]

Cassandra by Taylor Swift, an analysis

Track 27 (jesus) of The Tortured Poets Department: The Anthology references the figure of Cassandra from Greek mythology.

In it, Taylor directly compares herself to Cassandra, a featured player in the Trojan War and Aeschylus' Agamemnon, the first play of his Orestia trilogy. Cassandra, the daughter of the Trojan king Priam, was given the gift of prophecy by the god Apollo in an attempt to woo her. When she rejected his advances, Apollo cursed her so that she'd tell prophecies that no one believed but always came true.

Cassandra tried to warn the Trojans that her brother Paris would bring about the destruction of Troy, but she was ignored, and Paris made the fateful trip to Sparta where he met Helen. She also foresaw the trick of the Trojan Horse.

After the fall of Troy, King Agamemnon, the leader of the Greek forces, took Cassandra back to Mycenae as a concubine. This was the final straw for Agamemnon's wife, Clytemnestra, who had also lost her daughter Iphigenia to her husband's war. Clytemnestra killed both Cassandra and Agamemnon in her rage.

Before Clytemnestra carried out her revenge, Cassandra once again prophesied the coming horrors to no avail, lamenting,

Nay then, believe me not: what skills belief Or disbelief? Fate works its will -- and thou Wilt see and say in ruth, Her tale was true.

It isn't a perfect one-to-one allegory for SnakeGate, but for me the comparison really clicked when I connected Kim Kardashian to Clytemnestra. Clytemnestra is the one who actually kills Cassandra, akin to how Kim leaked the controversial phone call in 2016.

Kanye plays the role of both Agamemnon and Apollo, as they're male figures who violate Cassandra's autonomy, but he's primarily represented by the doom the narrator foresees, like the fall of Troy.

So, they didn't exactly kill Cassandra because of her prophecies because no one believed them anyway, but it's an interesting comparison for Taylor to draw. It's just her roundabout way of saying "I was right!!"

[doodlebugdpj]

Greek Myth references in TTPD

I was listening to "Cassandra" and "thanK you aIMee" and was thinking about the references. I realized that they were probably mentioned because of Greek Tragedy.

The whole thing about Cassandra is that she was given the gift of prophecy but nobody in Troy believed her. Snakes are connected to Apollo in Greek Mythology, it could also be a reference to Kim Kardashian

"thanK you aIMee" mentioned pushing a boulder up the hill (which might be a reference to Sisyphus, just read the first part about having to do things over and over again)

This might just be me being delusional.... 🤣

[okamirayne]

Hey Rayne! Just wanted to drop by for a quick session of praise and glory to your awesome self and the rollercoaster that Chapter 10 of HHU is. Seriously, your writing and your beautiful mind never fail to amaze me! It was such an amazing read that had my heart racing throughout. Damn do I feel bad for both Shikamaru and Naruto. And don't even get me started on those little bits of our beloved ShikaNeji interactions. MY POOR FUCKING HEART RAYNE, I SWEAR. I miss Neji so much and his appearance in this chapter was so bitter-sweet!

Anyways, enough of my rambling (because it could go indefinitely when it comes to you and BtB universe), I fear I have a question for your lovely self.

Alas, I have noticed that you use dream and/or dreamlike sequences quite a bit in your writing (I remember there being some throughout the series) and they are always so vividly and marvelously done! That made me wonder (and here comes the question) have you ever had a lucid dream, sleep paralysis, astral projection or some similar experience? I ask this because some of the ways in which you are portraying your dream sequences seem very familiar to some of the sensations which occur during those strange (and a bit scary) moments. I have had my fair share of lucid dreams and sleep paralysis moments, so it's very interesting to notice parallels in your writing regarding my own experience.

Okay, enough of me. As always, I wish you all the best and I hope you continue to kick ass of this burnout because *in Kris Jenner voice* YOU'RE DOING GREAT SWEETY! 🫶✨❤️

Anonymous asked:

Heya Sweet Pop Reference Anon! 💕🫶💕

Thank you, so much, for the delivery of this beautiful message, wrapped up in support and love. I was absolutely chuffed to receive it, read it, and be reduced to a puddle of feels by it. THANK YOU. 🥰 I've hit a big-arse wall recently and this was a sweet and soft place to fall. Thank you!

[...] And don't even get me started on those little bits of our beloved ShikaNeji interactions. MY POOR FUCKING HEART RAYNE, I SWEAR. I miss Neji so much and his appearance in this chapter was so bitter-sweet!

I feel you, Anon. My heart is a haunted house at this point.

Alas, I have noticed that you use dream and/or dreamlike sequences quite a bit in your writing (I remember there being some throughout the series) and they are always so vividly and marvelously done!

Thank you! They are always a little bit risky/tricky, but I try!

That made me wonder (and here comes the question) have you ever had a lucid dream, sleep paralysis, astral projection or some similar experience?

Yes, yes, yes, and yes. These intense experiences have undoubtedly helped me write such scenes - to which I am both profoundly grateful and mildly unhinged.

I ask this because some of the ways in which you are portraying your dream sequences seem very familiar to some of the sensations which occur during those strange (and a bit scary) moments. I have had my fair share of lucid dreams and sleep paralysis moments, so it's very interesting to notice parallels in your writing regarding my own experience.

Wow! I'm glad to know that the portrayals resonated with you regarding their relatability (again, can be tricky when writing altered consciousness experiences) though I'm sorry to learn you've been alotted a fair (or unfair!) share of sleep paralysis moments. 😵‍💫Ugh! Those are shit. And scary. And I hope you're spared them in the future!

Okay, enough of me. As always, I wish you all the best and I hope you continue to kick ass of this burnout because *in Kris Jenner voice* YOU'RE DOING GREAT SWEETY! 🫶✨❤️

Gods bless, but you're going to laugh at me, because I had to Google that. 🤣 The pop reference flew riiiiight over my head. I have zero knowledge (bar the most generic trivia) regarding the Kardashians, but I'm now educated in this catchphrase! 🤣 Thank you, Anon! I appreciate the support, and hearing Kris Jenner saying it in several reels now means I have her voice playing like an earworm every time I read it.😆🥰 Ha! Brilliant!

Big thanks coming at you, my lovely!

💖🫶🏼💖