#don't mind me i'm catching up on the show

[arminsumi]

It's no wonder you like him; 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 just has that somethingness about him.

Chipped black nails. A murmuring voice that immediately gains your attention — oh, who are you? He has to smirk to himself, watching how you bat your lashes at him, not knowing that he's just going to reject you like he's rejected every other girl. But oh, honestly, he's just fooling himself. From the moment he meets you, Suguru knows he's screwed. Yes, deep down inside, he knows it immediately.

He's screwed because he bothered himself with you — to ask you about yourself, to ask you for your number. Oh really? You like this? You like that? Tell me more.

The natural sultriness that Suguru radiates has you — what word did he use? Salivating. That's what he wants; for you to salivate for him like he salivates for you.

For the first few months that you know Suguru, it feels like you just can't catch him — because he's always drifting off with his best friend, or doing his own thing.

But really, Suguru's just relishing in the sight of you chasing after him, loving how you follow him like he's your cult leader.

It does something to him.

What works him up even more is when he sees how you you crane your neck to look up at him. He thinks for a moment about crashing his lips down on yours. If only you knew how much discipline he had, how he was restraining himself around you.

Is it only his sultriness that draws people into him? Or is it also that can't be bothered attitude that he wears like a jacket? What else? Well, he's eloquent. He's interesting. Bilingual. Jet black hair up in a tight bun — bangs and strands falling loosely over his face to show that loose part of his personality. Sharp eyes made less intimidating by the babyish cheeks and slightly dipping nose; two features that he has forever wished he could change about himself. Gauge earrings that catch everyone's eye. Always well-dressed. A slight show-off — oh of course, he just has to give you a mouth-watering glimpse of his martial artist physique every now and then, loving how you pretend that you're not trying to get another peek at all the muscles under his baggy white shirt. He's a tease. Something else that Suguru loves teasing you with is how he spreads his legs outrageously wide open whenever he's sitting.

Your comment on his height still lingers in his mind to this day; it's because of this comment and the sore awareness of how much bigger he is than you, that he gradually develops this I'm not too tall to be kissed slouch.

But nothing excites him more than seeing you at a loud party; the overpowering music is his excuse to come super close to your cheek to speak. The slightest grazing across your skin gets him going.

And in the moment he sees something spark in you, he slouches, bends his knees, and presses a nasty little kiss on your lips. It's wet and warm. He tastes your mouth, closes his eyes, sinks into this abyssal ecstasy, and hums in pleasure at the feeling of your tongue slipping in. His bangs rest against your cheek, his chest gets hotter, but then he deliberately pulls away when you whimper.

Just to frustrate you.

"Sorry, you look so good tonight, couldn't help myself." he excuses, acting cool as if he's not holding back from devouring you, as if he's not licking his lips and rubbing them together. "What, do you want more? Well, why don't you climb up here and give me more?"

[manwritingtales]

Give Me Back My Body!

My goddamn uncle stole my body! I would always catch him looking at the corner of my eyes, with him obviously trying to hide it. I was always uncomfortable with it, but he didn't say anything so I thought I could leave it alone. I was in practice when I suddenly found myself blacking out and waking up in my uncle's house, in a different body.

"Give me back my body!" I screamed at the phone, my Uncle David's deep voice coming out of my throat. I feel his stomach rumble, feeling confined in this shirt.

My body—me—grins, flexing his—my—arms. "Sorry, Kev. This is my body now. You know, I've always thought you were so sexy. I tried to just look, but I couldn't. I realized it just wasn't because I thought you were hot, it was because I wanted to become you."

He grins and flexes, and it's so bizarre watching my body act that way. So… slutty.

"I always fuckin' knew you were a fag!" I spit.

Oh god. He's so hairy! And this beard! It feels so weird having this big bushy beard on my face. I was always used to just having a stubble on my face.

"Don't worry, Kev. Or should I say Uncle David," my body grins, "I made sure to keep that body gay in the spell."

What—?

He must've seen the confusion in my face, because his grin only grows larger. "That's right. Take a look at this." He uses my body to flex my arms, the young body exuding virility and strength. He kisses his—my!—biceps and a strange sensation passes over me. Oh my fucking god. No, no, no! I feel the hog in this body growing. Jesus fucking Christ. Am I getting hard over my own body? Is it me, or is it his body getting hard?

I look at my old body, and I suddenly found myself understanding things from Uncle David's perspective. I do look pretty fuckin' hot. I shake my head. This is wrong!

"Listen here, fucker," I growl, secretly pleased with how low Uncle David's voice is. "Give me back my body!"

He smirks. "Or what?"

I pause, then take off his shirt, revealing his hairy chest. "Or I will post your fuckin' dick all over the goddamn internet!"

He laughs, caressing his muscles. "Is that the best you can think of, Uncle David?"

"Don't call me that!"

"Well. I'm sure I can think of so many more fun things to do with this body."

He shows my body's plump butt, and I hear him say, "I'll be sure to send you the video of good ol' straight Kevin getting fucked in the ass."

"You…—!" I was speechless, and I was even more horrified to realize that Uncle David's body is fucking hard. Not just aroused, but rock fucking hard! I resist the overwhelming urge to adjust the boner in my pants.

My shocked expression seems to please him. "Don't worry, Uncle David," he says using my voice. It's so strange hearing myself say all this. "I know I won't be the only one bottoming. I'm a bottom, and that body is a bottom. Better clean yourself up because I know you'll get the urge soon."

"You fucking—"

Call disconnected.

Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck. I stare at Uncle David's reflection in a mirror, a strange combination of scared, shocked, and… horniness coursing through me. His body. Me. Jesus, even now it's starting to get harder and harder to figure out what this body is feeling and what I'm actually feeling.

"I'll fuckin' get you," I glare at Uncle David in the mirror. "I'll… I'll get my body back…"

A thought pops out of my mind—a thought that sends shivers down my spine. I bury it down. I won't let it get to me. If his body wins, then Uncle David wins. I won't let it happen…

'Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to get fucked.'

[aventurineswife]

Can I ask for aventurine with an s/o who looks really giddy and excited except they're actually really nervous and depressive inside to the point they randomly stop acting happy one day and tell Aventurine that he can break up with them anytime he wants since they don't feel sufficient for him? Like they don't think they can compete with the pretty ladies he must see at the casino?-

“You're Everything”

Summary: Aventurine has always been able to read people, but the one person he can't quite figure out is you, his partner. Though outwardly cheerful, you've been hiding insecurities beneath your bright demeanor. One evening, during a quiet moment at home, your walls finally come down as you confess your self-doubt, feeling unworthy of Aventurine’s affection. This revelation shatters the illusion that everything is fine, and Aventurine takes the opportunity to reassure you of your worth.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Romance, Emotional Support, Insecurity, Reassurance, Vulnerability, Tender Moments, Established Relationship, Confessions, Trust.

Warnings: Mild emotional distress, Insecurity/confidence issues, Mild mentions of self-doubt.

A/N: shit why does that sound like me...? 😕💔

Aventurine had always been able to read people, to sense when something wasn’t quite right, when the masks people wore didn’t match the truth lurking beneath. But there was something about you—about how you always wore that giddy, almost dizzying smile—that kept him second-guessing himself. You never seemed to show your hand, always too busy hiding your true feelings behind that infectious energy.

It had taken time, but over the months of your relationship, he’d come to know you better, catching the subtle hints when your laughter wasn’t quite as bright or your movements just a little too stiff. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t worry—his strategic mind always assumed something was amiss, but you had become his anchor. He’d convinced himself that he didn’t need to dig deeper, that everything was fine as long as you looked happy. But deep down, that little seed of doubt always lingered, nestled in the back of his mind.

And that day... that day it all came crashing down.

It started with a quiet evening at home. The two of you had shared a meal, laughed about something trivial, and as always, you had worn that bubbly, almost too-exuberant smile. But there was a shift, a subtle drop in the energy that only someone who had spent so much time with you would notice. The tension in your shoulders, the way your eyes darted away when he met your gaze—it was like a veil had dropped, leaving a raw vulnerability behind.

You didn’t say anything at first, as if waiting for him to notice, to say something. But then, just as he was about to speak, you broke the silence.

"I don't think I'm good enough for you." you muttered, voice strained. Your hands trembled slightly, though you tried to keep them hidden in your lap.

Aventurine’s heart twisted. The moment you said those words, the mask shattered, and the heavy truth hit him. You hadn’t been your usual self—hadn't been genuinely happy—and he knew it was time to uncover the secret you’d been holding in.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, studying you carefully. “What do you mean by that?” His tone was soft, but there was a depth of concern behind it.

You swallowed, trying to compose yourself, but the words kept slipping out in a rush. "I—I don’t know, I just feel... like you could do so much better. I see how you are at the casino, surrounded by all those beautiful, confident women, and I... I can’t compete with them. I don’t even feel like I’m enough for you. You can... break up with me anytime you want. I wouldn't blame you."

The words hit Aventurine like a sucker punch. He froze for a moment, his usually steady hand twitching as he fought the urge to reach out and pull you into his arms. But instead, he stayed where he was, keeping his distance, allowing the weight of your words to settle between the two of you.

His gaze softened, his eyes fixing on you with an intensity that left no room for doubt. “You think I’m with you because of how you compare to others?” he asked, his voice a little more stern than usual. But underneath it was something deeper—something fragile, as if he was trying to keep his own composure intact.

Your head hung low, and you nodded, unable to meet his eyes. “I don’t know… It just feels like... I’m not enough for someone like you. You deserve someone who can make you happy without all this baggage."

Aventurine let out a small sigh, shaking his head slightly, as if processing the sheer weight of your words. His lips twitched upward into a soft, bittersweet smile, the kind that spoke of knowing something far deeper than surface-level impressions. He stood and walked over to you slowly, his movements calculated, but not with the usual sharpness of someone managing a deal. No, this was different. His steps were careful, as if afraid of shattering the delicate balance between the two of you.

Reaching out, he cupped your chin gently with one hand, lifting your face so you would meet his gaze. "You really think I care about comparing you to other people?" His voice, though steady, held a quiet intensity that resonated through you. "Look at me. Look at me, and understand something."

You blinked up at him, your heart thundering in your chest.

Aventurine exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “What matters to me, what’s always mattered to me, is you. Not the ‘pretty ladies,’ not the ones who look perfect on the outside. I’ve never cared about that. Not when it’s you who can make me laugh when the world feels like it’s closing in. Not when it’s you who makes me feel... human, not just the strategist, not just the Stoneheart. I don’t need anyone else."

You felt a pang in your chest at his words, but it only deepened when he continued.

“You think you're not enough, but you're everything. The fact that you’re here, sharing this with me, means more than you can imagine. You want to know why I chose you?” His voice was softer now, coaxing, as if breaking through a dam that had held so much back. "Because you're you. You don't have to pretend to be someone you're not. You never have to compete with anyone else, not when I’ve already chosen you."

Tears welled in your eyes, but you didn’t wipe them away. His words felt like a balm to wounds you hadn't realized were so deep.

Aventurine gave you a small, sincere smile, his gaze unwavering. “I’m not going anywhere. And if you ever doubt it again, I’ll remind you. But I’m asking you now, don’t doubt yourself. Not for a second. You’re exactly what I need, exactly what I want.”

The weight that had been crushing your chest seemed to lift, and for the first time in a long while, you breathed a little easier. You couldn’t help but let out a shaky laugh, your lips curving upward despite the wetness still on your cheeks.

Aventurine laughed with you, the sound warm and full of tenderness. “There’s that smile again. I’m never letting go of it.” He wiped a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb, his eyes glimmering with something you couldn’t quite put into words.

In that moment, you understood. You weren’t just his partner. You were his, completely and irrevocably, no matter what the world outside thought or how you felt inside.

And with that, you finally let the real smile break free, one that didn’t feel forced, one that was only for him.

[lostcherise]

Know Your Place

pairing: ben/soldier boy x f!reader

summary: Ben isn't quite happy you get to boss him around, so he takes it upon himself to truly show you who's in charge.

tags/warnings: set in the 80s, just pure smut zero plot, soldier boy being a prick (a hot prick tho), dub con at first, dom!ben, rough sex, hair pulling, gagging, face fucking, choking, sir kink, creampie

word count: 3,741

a/n: you know the drill, not proofread yet but i'll get to it eventually. any feedback is welcome, i hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing this.

The rhythmic clacking of your heels echoed throught the empty hallways of Vought Tower. Not a soul was around at that time of night, it was very well past 10P.M, the only remaining employees in the building being the night shift security guards and you.

Young and ambitious, you strived to fight your way to the top in the harsh cruel world of a male dominated corporation, and well, field in general. To say you hadn't been over the moon the moment you had gotten promoted to being Stan Edgar's right hand, his replacement when needed in supervising Payback, would have been an understatement.

However, the excitement soon fizzled out once you got an insight of how things truly operated within the corporation and the Payback team. Especially Soldier Boy. That man although downright handsome, he was just as much of a prick. It was fine being a simple assistant, your interactions were kept minimal, but along with the promotion came more time spent with the members of Payback.

With a deep sigh, you braced yourself before your fist made contact with the wooden door in a firm knock. You rolled your shoulders back, as if to seem more confident, when in reality anxiety was eating you up from the inside. The door forcefully swung open, causing a startled gasp to slip out of you.

"Well, sweetheart, I knew you'd come around eventually." Soldier Boy drawled. He stood tall and confident, his large frame towering over you, scandalously dressed in just a deep green silk robe - same shade as his suit.

You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to quip back, but that was not the reason you were there. "I'm here to talk business." you gave him a pointed look.

To your surprise, he silently stepped to the side motioning for you to come in and you did not miss the way his eyes traveled up and down as he took you in. As much as your mind fought to maintain control, your heart betrayed you and took over, heartbeat increasing. Heat rushed to your cheeks because you just knew he had heard that.

"I'm all ears, doll." you could hear the smug smirk on his voice.

"Listen, Soldier Boy-"

"Ben."

Your body whipped back to look at him. "What?"

"Call me Ben when we're alone." he commanded.

"Soldier- Ben." you corrected yourself immediately. "It's about your upcoming movie."

Immediately you were met with a groan, and Ben scowled at you as he made his way to his mini bar. "I've told that fucker Edgar millions of times, and I'm telling you this too." he pointed at your direction, a crystal tumbler in hand. "I'm not sharing the spotlight with that cum guzzler, Noir."

"It will improve your ratings, it's good for diversity."

Instead you were met with a condescending scoff. "Sweetheart, I don't need any of that," he inched closer to you, the ice clinking against the crystal walls of his glass with each step closer to you. "I'm fuckin' Soldier Boy."

"Why don't you get off your high horse and just do the fucking movie?" you snapped, shocking both him and you. Usually, you remained poised and collected, but the increasing stresses of the job were catching up to you.

"Excuse me?" he asked, looking up at you with a raised brow from the rim of his glass.

"As your boss-"

"No woman is the boss of me." he cut you off, before gulping down the rest of his drink.

That comment should have angered you more than it truly had, but over the years your skin had thickened this much you were practically immune to such words. Instead, it just riled you on even more. Call it stubborness, pride; you didn't care it just drove you to show that whatever men could do, you did it better.

"And yet, here I am." this time it was your turn to smirk smugly.

Ben inched closer to you, so close his spicy ambery scent engulfed you entirely. Once again, your heart betrayed you beating so hard as if it was fighting to burst out of your chest.

"And yet, too powerless to make me change my mind." Ben spoke in a low rumbling hum.

His body heat was pulling you in, itching to be engulfed by him. And although you knew better than to get linked with him in such way, your body ached to feel him; lust and curiosity were killing you.

Ben inched closer, an action that had you leaning in closer to him involuntarily, he was pulling you in like a magnet. "The answer's no sweetheart, give it up." he pulled back abruptly, his tone turning clipped in just a matter of seconds. With a pivot, he made his way over to the mini bar once more for a refill.

Frozen, you stood there for a few seconds before you snapped back to reality and marched off to where he stood.

"I've risked a lot to be in this position and I'm not going to allow a manchild like you jeopardize my job. So, accept the offer." your chest was heaving. Frankly, you didn't know where that sudden burst of bravery came from, but one thing you were sure of was that it was reckless; given the fact that Soldier Boy was a literal walking ticking time bomb.

The bottom of his glass clanked loudly against the marble counter top and it was only a matter of seconds before you found yourself pinned between him and the counter. While one hand gripped the edge of the counter, the other had your jaw in a tight hold.

His mossy green eyes were ablaze, glaring down on you. "Go on and act boss on those sack jugglers, but that attitude won't work on me."

The way his body was pressed against you, your thigh somewhat between his - as much as your pencil skirt could allow you - his rough hands on you, should have ignited a sense of fear in you. Oddly, it had the opposite effect and your skin sizzled beneath his calloused fingers, your imagination jumping wildly at pictures you were painting in your head of what those very same fingers were capable of doing to you.

Involutarily, your legs spread just a little wider, which of course did not go unnoticed by Ben. Cocky and full of himself, he chuckled at your state, it was so easy to get you were he wanted and he hadn't even tried.

"What is it sweetheart? You want a taste, hm?" his hand traveled further down, enclosing around your throat, constricting your airway ever so slightly.

Forming a coherent answer seemed like a foreign concept, your mind screaming at you to say that this was wrong on so many levels, yet all you could muster to let out were weak whimpers.

Of course, to Ben that seemed enough of an affirmative answer and wasted no time in jumping into action. If it was even possible, he harshly pulled you closer, and you could feel all of him against you, hard all over.

"The things I keep thinking of doing to you every time I see the way you sway that sweet piece of ass in that tight skirt of yours," he grumbled in your ear and grabbed a handful of your left ass cheek in a tight squeeze. "Drives me mad, doll." he finished his sentence with an echoing slap on your ass that had you jumping with a yelp.

The same hand then moved up to grab a fistful of your hair, his fingers curling at the roots. "On your knees." he commanded, ushering you down by giving your hair a firm tug.

Right there and then was a perfect opportunity to get up and leave, yet your knees made contact with the cold marble floor beneath you, all the while your gaze never left his. You were pretty sure you looked like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide and somewhat scared; scared of what was to come next, and yet that also riled you on even more.

Yes, you were aware of the hushed whispers shared amongst your female coworkers about him; of his skills in pleasuring women. Now it was your turn to see for yourself. Either you were going to hate this, or love this too much that no other man after him could compare.

"Be a good girl and use that mouth of yours for something good this time, hm?" Ben curled his top lip, pulling at your hair and forcing your head backwards to look at him.

Unable to speak, you simply nodded to which you earned a cocky smirk in response. Not bothering to strip completely, Ben simply pushed his robe aside, revealing his hardened length.

Of course that slut was naked under his robe, you thought to yourself, but your train of thought was cut short when you felt your head being pushed towards his cock. As if with a mind on its own, your mouth enclosed around his shaft, already halfway in, his angry tip hitting the back of your throat.

A guttural sound slipped past parted lips and Ben thrusted himself further down your throat, causing you to gag around him. He pulled you back by your hair and you coughed out and gasped for air. A few seconds passed before you found yourself in the same position, this time slackening your jaw to take in his girth better, his firm hold on the back of your head steadily keeping you in place.

His hips snapped in short, rhythmic thrusts as he fucked himself down your throat. "You take me so well, better than any other broad." Although the compliment was backhanded, it still managed to light up a fire within you, making your chest swell with a newfound wave of confidence.

You tried matching his frantic rhythim, bobbing your head along his length, pulling your head back whenever he pulled back his hips, meeting him again when he pushed deep in you, your nose burying in the short tuft of hair around the base of his cock.

A few more seconds passed and your eyes started brimming with tears as you struggled for breath, while also fighting back the feeling of the dull throbbing in your throat. You were definitely going to wake up with a sore throat in the morning.

Ben, seemingly lost in the throes of his pleasure, kept fucking into you, unaware of your struggle. Your hand found purchase on his strong thigh, giving it a series of firm squeezes to get his attention back to you.

He took one good look at you, at the state he had you in, all disheveled and teary eyed before he pulled out. He smiled pridefully and the sight of you like that made his cock twitch for more. "Up." he commanded, to which you immediately jumped up on your feet. A little dizzy, you braced yourself with your hands on his chest.

Ben's strong forearm wrapped beneath your bottom, lifting you up as if you were light as a feather. You held his gaze, all the while he carried you to his room.

In a swift motion, he threw you on the large Alaskan king bed adorning his large bedroom, and you fell lying on your side. You lifted yourself up on your knees, shaky fingers fumbling with the tie of his robe. "How do you want me?" you asked quietly, looking at him through your lashes.

"Oh, sweetheart," Ben cooed, bending down to grab your chin, the pad of his thumb toying with your bottom lip, then pushing inside your mouth to press against your tongue. "I'll have you any way I want."

At his words, your lips wrapped around his digit the same way they had wrapped around his cock. You pulled back, "Please." you let out a wanton whimper.

"Aren't you an eager one?" he chuckled, his hand moving down to grip around your throat, and pushing you down on the mattress in one swift motion. He followed suit, hovering over you and sizing you up as if he was a predator and you were his prey; he had you cornered right where he wanted you to be.

Immediately, your face flushed red, because yes you were being incredibly eager for him. You clearly weren't thinking straight, but that would be an issue to deal with for when you were no longer so horny.

"I need you inside me. Please, sir."

"Say that again." Ben's voice was so low it almost came out as a growl, his tone also full of lust.

"Please, sir, fuck me." you begged once more, your hands coming up to hold on to his strong forearm.

"Only because you asked so nicely."

He quickly removed his hand from your throat and forcefully ripping your shirt open, sending the buttons flying everywhere. His eyes were transfixed on the frantic up and down of your chest, watching the swells of your breasts moving with each sharp intake.

He mouthed at each one through the thin satin fabric of your bralette, feeling your nipples harden against his mouth. Albeit disappointed he didn't pay enough attention to your breasts, it was all lost on you the moment his hand slid up your skirt, between your thighs. His fingers wrapped around the fabric of your panties, bunching them at the center of your core, pulling them against you and causing much needed friction against your clit.

"Shit." you gasped out at the foreign sensation. No one had played with your clit like that. With each passing second, the fabric glided in between your folds with much ease as it was getting soaked with your slick.

"Gonna fucking wreck you." he groaned against your stomach, his teeth grazing your bare skin. "Think you can take it?"

"Yes. Yes, sir!" At this point you were panting like a bitch in heat. Your hands found their way in his sandy brown locks, tugging softly.

Ben remained silent, but his actions spoke louder than any words that could've been said. With one flick of his wrist, your panties were torn, leaving you in just your bra and skirt. His hand moved to do the same to your skirt, but in a tiny moment of clarity, your hand came over his. "Please don't rip this one, too."

Ben chuckled breathlessly, "You're no fun sweetheart." he chided, but complied nonetheless. In no mood for teasing, he quickly pulled the zipper down and slid your skirt down your thighs and past your ankles. His fingers then found their way on your cunt, sliding two fingers across your folds to gather up your slick, before plunging them deep inside you with no warning.

"Oh, shit." you moaned breathlessly; the pace of his fingers quickening inside you with every pulse of your muscles around them. Your whines raised in volume as he curled his fingertips, hitting the back of your pelvic bone.

His assault on your pussy went on for a few more seconds, until your slick was dripping down his knuckles, your pussy all prepped and ready to take him. With a lewd sound, he removed his fingers and moved them towards you, toying with your lips. Eagerly, you lapped up at his long digits, tasting yourself on him.

"Gonna fuckin' wreck you." Ben grunted heavily above you, lifting your left leg up and positioned your ankle on his strong shoulder, while you wrapped your right one around his waist.

With a shy smile, your hands reached to toy with the tie of his robe again, only this time your forefinger looped around the knot, undoing it in one swift motion. A shaky breath was caught in your throat the moment you finally took him in, in all his glory. He was so big and strong all over, it made your core ache for him in a way that had you questioning your sanity.

"I can take it, please."

You held your gaze with his, noticing the change in his eyes; how they darkened with desire. His plump lips curled into a smirk, he remained silent all the while he grabbed himself by the base, moving the tip of his length to align with your slit.

Your jaw slacked the moment his head pushed in. Ben moved deliberately slow, sheathing himself inside you inch by inch, until he bottomed out. You both groaned at the feeling, of how he was stretching you so perfectly, of how your pussy clamped up around him, engulfing and sucking him in.

His hand gripped around your thigh tight enough to bruise, bracing himself as he pulled out almost entirely, and pushing back in in one hard thrust. His movements repeated, growing more frequent with each thrust, yet the force remained the same.

After about five or six thrusts, Ben had set a steady pace that had you moaning beneath him; although at first the stretch of his cock hurt you a bit, it all melted down to pure pleasure.

Ben's free hand moved to pull your bra cups down, just enough so he could admire the way your breasts spilled out and bounced rhythmically with his every thrust. He delivered a couple of firm slaps on each one, your nipples tingled in pained bliss upon contact.

"Do it again."

"Ask nicely." Ben's hand gripped your jaw and keeping your head in place, forcing you to focus on him. Despite that, your eyes still rolled in the back of your head as Ben kept on fucking into you relentlessly, his pace never once faltering.

"Please, sir."

As much as Ben would love to keep you on the edge and beg for it more, he loved hearing the way you moaned and clenched around his cock more, so he gave in. He only stopped his assault on your breasts until they were red and sore to the touch and you kept begging for him to stop.

He grabbed your ankle off his shoulder, throwing it to the side so you were now flipped on your stomach and face first with the mattress. "Ass up, doll." he commanded, landing a firm slap to your ass. Silently, you obeyed, shimmying your hips further up, and arched your back in a perfect angle.

Ben's hands toyed with the fatness of your cheeks, massaging them and digging his fingers into the supple skin, and he spread them apart exposing yourself to him. He admired the way your pussy glistened in the dimly lit room and he pulled your cheeks just a bit further, transfixed by the way your walls clenched around nothing.

The tip of his cock rubbed against your folds, teasing your entrance before moving a bit further down to play with your hardened clit. He guided his cock back up to align with your entrance, plunging himself deep with ease. He was on one knee - the only time Ben ever saw himself on that position - having better leverage that way, being able to fuck into you much deeper.

He grunted behind you, loving the way you so eagerly bounced back on his cock, your hips meeting him halfway. You were a whining mess beneath him and he loved every second of it. Feeling very gracious, he moved one hand down between your legs, his middle finger finding its way to your clit expertly. His pace on your nub matched that of his hips and it was what drove you over the edge.

Your hands gripped the bed covers, and you buried your head deeper into the mattress to muffle the screams of pleasure that ripped through you. Tingles coursed through your body, all the way to your toes as that hot familiar feeling built up inside you. It was only seconds after when your back arched even deeper, and your pussy clamped up around Ben's thickness as your orgasm hit you in waves. His finger never once halted, only prolonging that warm blissful feeling that had your toes curling and your entire body shivering.

"Such a good girl, doin' so good f'me. Taking my cock so well." Ben praised you, only now he sounded the tiniest out of breath, indicating that he must be close to his own climax as well.

A few seconds later, your body began to relax as the aftershocks of your orgasm began to die down. His hand moved up to press your head roughly into the mattress, his hips snapping frantically into your needy cunt as he chased his own orgasm. The bed creaked beneath as Ben was fucking into you with such force, you were surprised you were able to take it, given his superhuman strength.

"Gonna fill you up so good." he moaned above you.

"God, yes. Yes!" you screamed, his balls were slapping against your overstimulated clit, driving you into your second orgasm. It came over you like the first one times 10, your entire body quaking as it pusled through you.

Ben's fingers curled around the roots of your hair, his grip on your head tightening and pushed you even deeper into the mattress. His hips slapped sloppily against yours for a few more thrusts, until they halted. His cock twitched and spilled his hot seed inside you, coating your walls white. He came hard and loud, his chest rumbling whilst he let out a deep guttural moan.

He pulled out with a groan, and admired the way his cum dripped out of your swollen pussy and onto the covers; truly a sight he'd never get tired of. He slumped back on he bed, resting against the headboard, only after grabbing a much needed blunt from his nightstand.

You hadn't moved much, only now you were sat up on your knees and eyed him, the way his hair fell over his eyes, the way his pecs shone with a light sheen of sweat. Ben caught your gaze, smirking at you as he blew a thin cloud of smoke, he studied how there was a sense of reluctancy written in your eyes.

With an outstretched hand, he offered you the blunt with a doubtful look in his eyes. Silently, you accepted without any second thoughts which only surprised Ben even more. Your eyes held a silent conversation with his, a new kind of tension loomed above the two of you.

Work was going to be interesting the next morning.

[redroomreflections]

When in Bloom

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

A Family of Her Own Series

10/10

Masterlist | General Masterlist

w/c: 7.9k

Summary: After the fall of the Avengers, Natasha Romanoff returns home to her secret family—a life she's carefully hidden away for years. Struggling to balance her role as a mother and wife while avoiding the dangers of her past, Natasha is forced to make difficult decisions that impact her loved ones.

This Chapter: Natasha makes the ultimate sacrifice.

Note: I spent my entire Sunday writing this. I paused and rewound the movie 50 times. I utilized ChatGPT to help me with timelines. I read the script. I pulled out all the resources to ensure I did my big one for y'all. Special shoutout to Grammarly Premium for making my writing look and sound professional-like. Enjoy =)

Breakfast was always something Natasha found important. In her mind, it was more than just a meal; it was the fuel that powered her through the day. She never skipped it, a rare and comforting constant in her life. Even now, in a quiet city apartment far removed from the chaos of her past, the ritual of making breakfast each morning grounded her.

In the Red Room, food was always viewed strictly as fuel, something utilitarian and calculated. She never spoke much about those years, especially not with Nicky—he was still too young to understand, and she didn’t want that darkness clouding his view of her. But she could remember the harsh regimens, the rigid routines, the lessons drilled into her: taking care of herself wasn’t a luxury; it was mandatory. A weak Widow was a liability; weakness was something she had never been allowed to show.

She tried not to think too deeply about what her training had left her with—it was just one more thing in a long line of things that had happened to her.

"Mama, I'm almost ready," Nicky shuffled to the room with his laces untied and jacket hanging from his body. Ollie walked with him at his tail. He sat next to Natasha, looking up with big, hopeful eyes.

"I don't have anything for you, sweet boy," Natasha smiled apologetically. Ollie whined and laid his head on the floor. Natasha turned away from the dog to inspect Nicky. He was sitting on the floor, his hands attempting to tie his laces as his little tongue stuck out.

"What do you need, Myshka?" Natasha asked, and Nicky held his foot up.

"I can't do the knots, they're too small."

Natasha smiled and tied his shoes. She stood up, and Nicky followed suit, his coat fully zipped and his backpack slung over his shoulders.

"Can we stop for hot chocolate on the way to school?"

"I made breakfast," Natasha shook her head.

"Eggs and toast again?" He asked as he sat at the table.

"Eggs and toast," Natasha nodded. It was all she knew how to make without burning.

"Okay," Nicky sighed, "but I want a donut tomorrow."

Natasha rolled her eyes.

"We'll see," she answered.

"It's a promise!" He said.

"You know how I feel about those," she chided. "I don't make them unless I can follow through."

Nicky dug into his eggs and toast with a resigned but good-natured sigh; Natasha sat across from him, her phone buzzing softly on the table. She’d promised herself that breakfast would always be their time, uninterrupted, but the messages were piling up.

Okoye: "Natasha, we’re seeing unusual cartel activity in Mexico City. I think it’s Barton."

Rhodes: "Saw the same. We have casualties this time—he’s not holding back anymore. Might be time to intervene."

She rubbed her temples, reading over each message carefully. It had been like this for months: catching glimpses of Barton’s brutal one-man war, getting vague reports, but never close enough to reach him. And each new incident seemed to confirm what she already knew—Clint was spiraling, slipping further away with every mission.

Nicky munched on his toast, his little eyes flitting between her and Ollie, who was sulking on the floor. She gave him a quick smile, trying to shake the tension out of her shoulders, and typed a response.

"I'm on it. I'll be at the compound in an hour," She typed.

"Who's that?" Nicky asked, his eyes still watching Ollie.

"A friend," Natasha said, putting her phone down. "They're working on a case."

"The Avenger kind of case?"

"Exactly the kind," she nodded.

"Can I go on a mission with you someday?"

"Hmm, you have to finish first grade and learn to tie your shoes," She said. "Then we can talk."

Nicky finished the rest of his breakfast, and Natasha helped him clean up and get his backpack ready. As she grabbed her jacket, Natasha saw a message flash from another chat, this one from Nora.

Nora: "Hey, are we still on for tonight? Let me know what you’re in the mood for."

They’d only met a few months ago, but Natasha was easing into an unlikely friendship with Nora. They both tried to ignore the fact that they'd almost slept together. Their camaraderie was something she needed during this time. Someone who didn't know her world. Someone as a listening ear.

She hadn’t told Nora much about her past or work—what she could share, anyway—but Nora seemed to sense her guardedness and never pressed for more.

Natasha quickly typed back:

Natasha: "Still on for tonight. Maybe something low-key? Let’s catch up."

She tucked the phone into her jacket pocket and helped Nicky and Ollie out of the apartment, locking the door behind them.

Their walk to his bus stop was uneventful. Nicky counted the steps to the corner, babbling to her about something she had no idea about. Traffic at this time was nonexistent, especially after the Snap. It was just her, Nicky, and Ollie walking, their steps in sync.

"Remember your homework and ensure you're practicing your cursive," she reminded him.

"I know, I will," Nicky huffed.

"Have a good day at school," Natasha said, crouching down to Nicky's level. "I love you, always."

"Love you too," he leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Bye, Ollie!"

He ran off, his backpack bouncing with him, as he met the other children at the bus stop. The bus rolled in, and the children all piled in. Natasha stayed until the doors shut, and the bus disappeared from her view.

This was their normal.

********

The training room was quiet, and the soft hum of electricity was all around her. She could hear the shuffling of her feet and the clank of the bag as it hit the floor.

It had taken Natasha a while, but she found her rhythm again. She stood in front of the mirror, wearing a simple black shirt and sweatpants, her feet grounded to the floor as she pulled her hair into a tight, controlled bun. Her fingers moved with practiced precision, twisting and pinning the strands into place as if the routine and discipline would quiet the noise in her mind. Every movement felt deliberate, a small act of control.

The soft padding of her shoes across the floor felt comforting as she moved to the center of the room. She stretched, her arms reaching above her head, bending into a series of quiet, fluid motions. There was a certain peace in this, a kind of grace she hadn’t known she needed until she found it again.

She moved through pirouettes, the motion sharp and fluid before she landed softly back onto the floor. Natasha paused, standing tall, breathing steady. She was a soldier. A leader. A mother. But for this moment, she was just a woman, letting her body regain balance.

When she had the time, she would sit in this training room. Sometimes, she'd cry. Other times, she would dance when her mind and body needed it.

Today, she'd danced.

Her hands came up in a strong pose, her right leg pointed, and her left hand raised.

The music started with a quiet melody.

Her muscles remembered. Her body knew what to do.

Natasha took a deep breath, and then she began to dance.

The ache in her chest seemed to tighten with every motion, a dull, constant throb she couldn't shake. It wasn't the physical exhaustion, the burn in her legs from stretching too far, too long—it was the grief, the absence, a constant reminder of what had been taken from her.

The anniversary was coming up. Eight and a half years together. She tried not to think about it, but the numbers wouldn't leave her alone. Five years lost. It felt impossible to imagine what those years might have been. What would life be like now if it were not for the Snap? If not for the universe tearing itself apart?

Stella would be nine. Natasha could almost picture it: a small girl with dark, wild curls and an infectious smile. Her eyes would have sparkled with the same mischief as you. She would have been old enough to start thinking about her future and to ask questions that Natasha would have been too tired to answer. But you'd have done it together, as a family.

Natasha stopped suddenly, her foot hitting the ground hard.

A lump had formed in her throat, and the tears threatened to spill.

The pain was like a knife, a sudden, violent stabbing deep inside.

There may have been another baby by now. Maybe she'd have been thinking about balancing the mission, the children, the quiet mornings, and the long days filled with reports and decisions. She'd have retired by now. She'd have given up avenging, given up this life of constant motion, just to hold onto the people she loved.

Her mind wandered, remembering how you’d looked when you held Stella for the first time, the joy in your eyes as you held that tiny life. Natasha wanted to hold onto that memory. She wanted to feel the weight of her daughter in her arms again. But she couldn’t.

Her foot faltered as she spun, the motion too sharp and quick. She caught herself, steadying on one leg before continuing the movement. Her body knew the steps. It was the heart that was falling behind. She could push through it—she always had.

But today, the ache felt too much to ignore. She wished for a moment that she could turn off the grief, pretend that it wasn’t there, that it didn’t eat at her every time she saw a family or a couple. Every time she saw a child running through a park or a mom at the grocery store. Every time, she thought about the future she would never have.

*********

Natasha sat among the ring of holo-screens, only half listening to the chatter from each team member. Rocket, Carol, Okoye, Nebula, and Rhodey spoke, trading updates and frustrations across the galaxy. She held a small peanut butter container in her hand, absentmindedly scooping out spoonfuls as she listened. The sandwich in front of her remained untouched. The familiar, salty taste grounded her, though it did little to quell the churn of thoughts spiraling within her.

The screen shifted to Rocket, whose frustrated voice was loud and clear.

Rocket's voice rang from the Halo. "So, thanks for the hot tip."

Natasha smirked a little despite herself, watching the banter continue between him and Carol. But her mind kept flickering back to the breakfast she'd rushed with Nicky, how she'd promised him she’d be home after her day at the compound. She'd need Nora to pick him up from school again.

Carol’s voice cut through the chatter. "The things that have been happening on Earth have been happening everywhere else. On thousands of planets. You might not see me for a long time."

Natasha swallowed another spoonful of peanut butter, feeling the weight of Carol's words settle over her. It was a reminder of just how enormous this loss was—this endless damage, stretching farther than anyone could have imagined. She’d stayed, kept her footing here, but even her little world seemed to be slipping. Her family was fractured, Barton somewhere out there in the shadows, and her friends scattered across the world, each dealing with their own aftermath.

"All right. Everybody keep keeping their eyes open... This channel’s always active. Anything goes sideways, anyone makes trouble where they shouldn’t, it comes through me." She said.

One by one, the screens blinked out, each goodbye leaving her feeling slightly lonelier. Only Rhodey remained. She knew what he’d say before he even started.

"Federalés found a room full of bodies outside Juarez. Cartel guys... Guns still in their pants. Same MO as Marseille. And Kiev."

Her chest tightened, the peanut butter sticking in her throat. She nodded grimly, acknowledging what she'd known was coming but dreaded to hear.

"It’s definitely Barton," Rhodey said.

The confirmation settled in her like a lead weight. Clint was too far gone, and whatever had driven him to this point was something she couldn’t pull him back from—not yet. Her fingers clenched the spoon tighter, and she stared at the empty container. She’d been so focused on keeping things together, on somehow pulling everyone else back into orbit, that she hadn’t noticed just how close she was to breaking herself.

"What he’s done here...what he’s been doing...I got to tell you, part of me doesn’t want to find him." Rhodey continued.

Natasha let out a long breath, steadying herself. She had to keep it together for Nicky, Clint, and everyone else who still counted on her to lead them through this unsteady world.

"Find out where he’s going next." She fought through the tears to hold it together. She took a bite of her sandwich, hoping to ease her tears, before dropping it onto the plate.

Rhodey nodded, the screen flickering off, leaving her alone. She rubbed her eyes, letting herself sink back for a long, quiet moment. She didn’t know how long she’d sat there when she heard a familiar voice from the doorway.

"I’d offer to cook you dinner, but you seem sad enough already."

She looked up, eyes weary, but a small smile breaking through. Steve could always tell.

Natasha turned to see Steve standing in the doorway, his arms crossed as he watched her.

"Come by to do your laundry?" she asked, arching a brow.

"And see a friend," he replied.

She forced a small smile. "Your friend’s fine."

Steve raised an eyebrow, his expression softening with the familiar look he reserved for her. "She leave the house today?"

"Nothing out there I particularly want to see."

"I spotted a pod of whales coming over the bridge," he said, almost wistfully. "Closer to the city than I’ve ever seen them."

A faint, half-hearted smile tugged at Natasha’s lips. "Guess nature’s making a comeback, huh? Nice to know someone’s doing alright."

They fell into silence, and Steve watched her, something unspoken settling in the quiet. He leaned against the doorframe.

"How’s Nicky?"

Natasha's face softened at the mention of her son, her usual guarded expression slipping just a little.

"Growing faster than I can keep up with," she murmured, almost to herself. "He’s asking a lot of questions these days. Hard questions."

Steve nodded, his voice gentle. "He’s smart, like his mom."

She let out a small, tired laugh, glancing down. "Smart... yeah. And stubborn. Keeps me on my toes."

"Sounds like he’s a lot like you."

She shook her head, smiling faintly, before looking back at the table where her half-eaten sandwich sat. "He’s everything we hoped he’d be. Kind, curious... Sometimes, I wonder if he’s too gentle for this world. For what’s left of it, anyway."

A heavy silence followed her words, and Steve moved a step closer, an understanding look in his eyes.

"He’s got you to look out for him. And you’re both stronger than you think."

Natasha gave a small nod, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "Maybe."

After a long moment, Steve looked up at her, his gaze steady, honest.

"Group was interesting. I keep telling them to move on. Grow past it," he said, his voice laced with something like resignation. "And some of them actually do. But not us."

Natasha held his gaze, the weight of it settling heavily between them. "If I move on," she murmured, "who does this?"

"Maybe it doesn’t need to be done," he replied quietly.

The words lingered, sinking into her. Steve was thinking of letting go. She could see the traces of weariness on his face and how he looked around the compound.

She glanced around, taking in the remnants of what had once been their team, their family. "I used to have nothing," she said softly. "Then I got this. This job, this family..."

Her voice caught, a flash of grief breaking through her carefully composed exterior. She took a breath, collecting herself.

"And even though they’re gone, I’m still trying to be... better."

Steve’s expression softened. "I think we both need to get a life."

She let out a small, almost hollow laugh. "You first."

He gave her a slight smile, then tilted his head, looking at her curiously. "What about Nora?"

Natasha’s face shifted, her smile fading. "It’s nothing," she said, brushing it off. Her gaze fell, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want my family back, Steve. My wife... Stella..."

A deep silence settled over them. Steve nodded slowly, understanding without needing any more words.

"We did our best, Nat," he murmured. "There wasn't anything more we could have done."

"That's the difficult part," She nodded.

They stared at each other, a long, quiet moment of shared melancholy. The silence wrapped around them, a reminder of all they’d lost and the people who weren’t there to share it with them anymore.

Then, a sudden ping broke through the silence. Natasha looked down at her console, swiping to a CCTV display, her eyes widening in surprise as she took in the sight on the screen.

Scott Lang’s face filled the monitor, his expression hopeful yet bewildered, with Luis’s old van parked behind him.

“Hello?” Scott’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Is anyone home? This is, uh, Scott Lang? We met a few years ago. At the airport?”

Steve leaned in, frowning as he watched Scott on the screen. “This an old message?”

Natasha shook her head, stunned. “It’s the front gate.”

********

Vormir

Natasha and Clint were climbing, their breathing ragged from the exhaustion of the long ascent. The mountain seemed endless, and with every step, Natasha felt the air become thinner. It was suffocating. Her thighs were burning, her legs shaking, but she pushed through, her heart pounding in her ears as they reached the top of the cliff.

They approach an archway carved into the mountain's face, and Clint mutters to himself.

"Really starting to regret my choice here," Clint said half-jokingly.

Natasha exhaled, a dry laugh escaping her lips despite the gravity of the situation. She didn't answer immediately, her mind racing. "Yeah. I'm going to bet the raccoon didn't have to climb a mountain."

"I don’t think technically he’s a raccoon..." Clint grinned.

"Whatever. He eats garbage." She cut him off. But as Clint spoke, Natasha's smile faded, her gaze distant as she took a few more steps, each one harder than the last. There was a tightness in her chest, a knot that grew with each breath.

For a moment, the mountain felt less like a physical challenge and more like an emotional one. Every part of her wanted to stop, to tell Clint it was not worth it, but she couldn’t. She couldn't. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps caught their attention. They turned, guns drawn, ready for a fight.

"I assure you, you have nothing to fear from me," The hooded figure affirmed.

"Creepy," Clint commented.

"Welcome, Natasha, daughter of Ivan." The hooded figure gestured to her. "Clint, son of Edith."

"Creepier." He murmured.

"Who are you?" Natasha asked.

"Consider me a guide. To you and to all who seek the Soul Stone."

Their journey ended here.

********

"If we don’t get the stone, billions of people are going to stay dead." She said firmly.

Clint’s face was grim, but there was no question in his eyes. He knew what was coming. He already knew what’s been weighing on both of them.

"Then I guess we both know who it has to be,"

There was a pause. A beat where emotion played all over their faces - pain, love, heartbreak. Natasha looked at Clint, and something on her face shifted.

"Yeah, I guess we do," She said.

"I'm starting to think we don't mean the same person," Clint tilted his chin. "Nicky needs a mother."

"And he'll have her," Natasha said. As Natasha began to pull away, her heart beating rapidly in her chest, something changed.

Suddenly, the world around them shuddered. A strange, heavy pressure filled the air, like reality was bending. Natasha stumbled, her eyes snapping around, searching for the source. The ground trembled.

Suddenly she was alone.

"You think this is the end of your choice? I think you’ll find... it’s just the beginning." Red Skull's voice played around her ominously. She searched for the source but couldn't find it.

"What the hell," She cried out.

Before she could process what was happening, the world shifted again. The landscape around her warped, colors bleeding into one another as if she'd stepped through a rift into another plane of existence. Natasha closed her eyes as a wave of nausea washed over her. She only listened to her breathing and her senses until her feet hit solid ground. She could hear the running of water. If she could guess, it was a stream or... a river.

"What is this place?" She asked as she blinked her eyes open. Red Skull stood before her. Natasha looked around, hoping to find her bearings, but nothing gave her the indication that she was still on Vormir or Earth. It seemed like a purgatory of sorts. Someone else's dream.

"You’ve come this far. But I think you deserve more than just a simple end. A choice so great—perhaps you should have the chance to reconsider." Red Skull explained.

"What do you want from me?" She demanded. "Where's Clint?"

"I offer you a choice—one you may not have considered. A way out. A chance to undo it all... in a different form." He ignored her questions, only causing more confusion.

"What’s your game, Skull? What are you talking about?" She stepped closer to him. "I swear to-"

"Mama?" A voice called. Natasha froze. Her heart skipped a beat, the world narrowing into a single point of focus. That voice. Her heart dropped and then soared all at once. She didn't understand how, but she knew exactly who it was. Her stomach churned.

She turned around, her eyes scanning the familiar landscape, and then there she was.

Stella was the same age as when the Snap happened. Natasha’s breath caught in her throat. Her hair was the same—soft, messy curls that fell around her face. Her eyes were just as bright as those vivid green eyes that Natasha had only seen in her dreams. The little girl looked up at her, pure joy in her expression, a smile that could light up the entire world.

"Hi, Mama," Stella grinned up at her. Her face was unchanged, frozen in time. She looked just as Natasha remembered. Still three. Still lost in a world that didn't seem to age her.

Natasha’s heart felt like it would shatter. She rushed toward her daughter, closing the distance in a heartbeat. She pulled Stella into her arms, holding her so tightly it almost hurt. Her eyes stung with tears she couldn't contain.

"I don’t... I don’t understand. How—how are you here? You... you’re—"

But before she could finish, Stella pulled back slightly, her little face furrowed with confusion.

"Where is Mommy?" She asked

"Oh God." Natasha choked back a sob. She wants to say something, but she doesn't have the words. It was too much.

"Why is Mommy not here?" Stella's confusion turned to frustration. "You said Mommy was coming." Stella directed her anger at the Red Skull.

"Stella..." Natasha began.

Natasha’s world tilted on its axis. She held Stella tighter, her mind racing. A thousand questions rushed through her thoughts. How was this possible? What was happening to her?

But the reality of her daughter, there—now—overpowered every rational thought. The warmth of her child’s embrace was a lifeline, pulling her away from the edge of the unknown.

"I'll find Mommy, don't worry," Natasha soothed the little girl. "We'll find her together."

She rubbed her daughter’s back, trying to keep herself from breaking down. Her emotions were a whirlwind—relief, pain, confusion. But something didn't feel right. Something was off.

"I offer you a choice." Red Skull interrupted their reunion. "Stay here, in this moment, with your daughter, forever trapped in the purgatory, or return to the world you know... in a different form. I can give you a new life, a new beginning—a second chance at everything. But there is a price, of course."

Natasha’s breath hitched. "What's the price? What happened to giving up a soul?"

"You will be reincarnated. Your soul, your essence, will live again in a new body. You’ll be free from the pain of this life and the burden of the past. But you will lose everything you know. You’ll forget this life, your memories, your loved ones—your daughter. You will be someone else."

"So either way, I'd die," Natasha guessed. She licked her lips nervously. "Either way, the people I love will lose me. How is this better than the other deal?"

"Not death, Natasha. Rebirth. A chance to begin again, free from the weight of your past. But yes, in this new life, you will forget. The pain, the grief... and the love. Your soul will live again, but it will be untethered, unburdened by the memories of this life. It will be a clean slate.

"So I get to live again but lose everything I ever cared about? I don’t even get to remember the people I’ve fought for, the ones I’ve sacrificed everything for. You’re telling me to give up my life again?" She shook her head. "I would forget her. I would forget all of them."

"You will gain something more valuable—freedom. You will be someone else, someone better, with no shackles. No more ghosts of the past, no more running. You will be given a chance to make a new path. But there is no turning back once you choose. Once your soul is reborn, it will not remember this moment. You will be free of the pain of your past... but also the joy of those moments, those people."

Natasha swallowed hard, her mind racing. The thought of losing everything she fought for—the memories, the bonds she’s built, especially with her daughter—twisted like a knife in her chest. But the idea of freedom and redemption tempted her in a way she couldn't ignore.

"And if I choose the other way? To stay here, to die for the stone... What’s the difference? Isn’t it all just... an end?" She said quietly to herself.

"The difference is that you remain as you are in this choice. You will stay in this moment, this world, and be trapped in it. Without her. A death without peace, a loss without redemption. The universe will continue without you."

A beat passed as Natasha processed the weight of his words. She wanted to scream, to demand more answers. She wanted to tear through this reality, but all she could do was stare at Stella, her little face looking at her with that innocent, trusting look. That face is the one thing that keeps pulling her heart in two directions—back toward this strange, illusory world where she can hold her daughter or forward toward an unknown fate, a second chance.

"Why would I choose freedom if it means losing everything that made me who I am? What’s the point of living again if I can’t remember why I fought so hard to be here in the first place?" She frowned. "Do they come back? Does Nicky get his mother and his sister?"

"The people you love will remember you. They will mourn you. They will grieve, but they will move on. They will find a way to live without you, and eventually, the wounds will heal. It will not be the same, but there will be peace, eventually."

"I don’t want to forget... I don’t want to forget her. I can’t." Her voice broke. She was crying now.

"You are not choosing to forget her. You are choosing to give her a future. A future where the world is saved, where the people you love have a chance to live. That is the sacrifice you make. The world needs you, Natasha Romanoff, more than your memories."

"And if I choose not to live again? What happens then?"

Red Skull’s gaze sharpened, his voice heavy with the finality of his words.

"Then you will die, and the universe will continue without you."

The reality of his words sank in, a heaviness weighing her down. She was faced with an impossible choice—die and have the possibility of everyone coming back or reincarnating with the same result.

Her fingers traced the outline of her wedding band, the cold metal a reminder of all she had lost.

"Why me?" She asked suddenly. Red Skull looked at her with something close to pity, though it was difficult to read on his stone-like face."Does everyone get this option?"

“No,” he replied, his voice cold but edged with something else—something ancient. “Not everyone. Only those whose actions have carried weight—those whose sacrifices have been… significant. You’ve walked a path of endless struggle. Death has followed you, yet you fight; you sacrifice, again and again, not just for others but for a purpose greater than yourself. It is rare to see such a soul. That is why I offer this choice to you.”

Natasha absorbed his words, her mind racing. Her life had always been a series of choices, but this… this was different. A chance to leave it all behind and be reborn, or to give everything, including herself, to save others.

Her thoughts drifted to Stella, still tucked in her arms, her innocent eyes full of love and trust. Could she really leave this behind? Could she live with the knowledge that the mother her children knew would never return to them?

“Why me?” Natasha repeated, her voice soft but unwavering. “Why offer this to me and not to someone else? There have been countless others who’ve given everything… so why now?”

Red Skull didn't answer immediately, the silence hanging heavily in the air.

Red Skull's gaze softened, just for a moment. “Because you are more than what you think yourself to be. You have been a weapon, a force of destruction, and a beacon of hope. You’ve fought against fate, against what you thought you were destined for. This is your moment to choose what you wish your legacy to be. Either way, you shape your own fate.”

Natasha stood still, her heart thundering. Red Skull waited for her decision. The silence hung heavy between them, thick with the moment's gravity.

Natasha swallowed, her hand tightening into a fist at her side. "And if I choose to leave? To reincarnate—what happens to them? To Clint, to my team… my daughter?"

"They will live," Red Skull said, his voice almost too calm, too sure. "They will carry on, their memories untouched. But you will be gone. Your place in the universe will be filled by someone else."

Natasha closed her eyes, the words weighing heavy on her. It was an impossible decision, one she couldn’t fathom.

"I can't," she whispered. "I can't choose."

"Mama," Stella questioned. It seemed she was waiting for an answer, too.

"I'm sorry," Natasha let the tears fall this time. "I'm so sorry, Solnyshko." She whimpered.

Red Skull looked at her, his expression almost sympathetic.

"It is not a choice, Natasha. It is a sacrifice. One you have already made."

"Okay, okay, I'm ready." Natasha breathed. "I'm sorry, baby." She kissed Stella's forehead. She could only hope you would forgive her.

*********

"It was supposed to be me. She sacrificed her life for that goddamn stone. She bet her life on it," Clint ranted. "She jumped, and one of us had to explain this to Nicky."

Thor and Banner exchanged puzzled glances. The tension in the room is thick; Clint’s grief is a raw wound, and their shared loss weighs on everyone. But this—this was something they hadn’t anticipated.

"Who is Nicky?" Bruce questioned.

Clint’s shoulders slumped as if the question's weight was too much. He took a shuddering breath, his gaze fixed on the floor.

“Nicky’s her son,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Nat didn’t talk about him much… she didn’t want to endanger him. She kept him safe, hidden, but he’s… he’s still so young.”

“Are you telling us that Nat… that she left behind a child?” Bruce asked gently, his voice filled with concern.

Clint nodded, swallowing hard. “She did it for him, you know. She did it for all of us, for everyone that got snapped. But he was part of that, too. Part of the reason she…” He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Thor’s expression shifted from confusion to a deep, somber respect. “A mother’s sacrifice… to protect her child,” he murmured almost reverent.

"Children," Tony supplied.

"What?" Clint looked at Tony.

"There were two children. She had Stella," Tony reminded him. "It was for them. For her wife."

Clint glanced up, anger and anguish flashing in his eyes. “And now he’s alone. She’s gone, and he’s got no one.” His voice cracked as he stumbled over the words. “Who’s going to be there for him? Who’s going to tell him why his mom never came back?”

Bruce placed a comforting hand on Clint’s shoulder, his eyes sincere. “Then we’ll be there for him,” he promised. “If Natasha’s son needs family, he’s got us. Whatever he needs—support, protection, anything.”

Thor nodded firmly, the resolve clear in his gaze. “We owe her that much. And I’ll ensure he knows exactly who his mother was—a warrior, a hero. The bravest among us.”

That landed heavily among all of them.

*********

You'd been appalled when Happy suggested a joint funeral for Tony and Natasha. The idea left a bitter taste in your mouth. A funeral for Natasha—your Natasha—sounded absurd. She wasn’t gone. She couldn’t be. Not her.

You’d spent five years in limbo, caught between one breath and the next, with no awareness of the time passing. One moment, you were home in Missouri, watching your children play in the den, and the next… nothing. It wasn’t like sleep or even unconsciousness. It was as if you simply didn’t exist. And then, just as suddenly, you were back. But the world you returned to had shifted and moved forward in ways you couldn’t yet wrap your mind around.

Nicky had grown so much taller than you remembered. No longer the little boy you’d kissed goodnight, he was older now, with five years of life etched into his features, years you’d missed as his mother. The last time you saw him, he was just one year old, approaching his second birthday, which you'd planned together. Now, at eight, he was still small but no longer the toddler you had once held in your arms.

In some ways, he was a stranger, a person with a life outside your knowledge. You missed five years of his life.

And now, with no warning, the universe had ripped away the only constant in your life.

It didn't make sense. The universe had brought you back only to take her away. She couldn't be gone.

So you refused the funeral. It was a denial, an attempt to reject the reality thrust upon you. You didn’t need a funeral for someone who wasn't dead. She would come home. You wouldn't bury an empty casket.

And then you looked at your children—two pieces of your heart, tethering you to a reality you could hardly stand. You wanted to honor Natasha, for them, if nothing else. None of this made sense. None of it felt right. But you knew you had to push forward.

That morning, you dressed them with shaking hands, pausing often to steady yourself. Your eyes were bloodshot from a night spent wrestling with grief, exhaustion, and disbelief. You’d barely slept, remembering Natasha and the impossible circumstances that had brought you here. But for Nicky and Stella, you had to keep going.

They sat before you now in Tony’s lake house, their small, trusting faces watching you closely. Everyone else was waiting downstairs—the Avengers, friends from all over, people whose lives she had touched. But before you joined them, you needed this quiet moment with your children to prepare them for the hardest goodbye any of you had ever faced.

"It's time for us to say goodbye to Mama," You breathed. You took both of their hands and kissed each of them. "I know we don't want to. This is the last thing I want to do, but..."

Stella was staring at her feet, a sullen, pained look on her face.

"It's going to be hard. I'm gonna miss her, too," You told him. "But we're gonna get through it. We're gonna be okay."

You turned to Nicky. He was watching you, his face serious. He'd been quiet all morning, barely speaking. He'd lost both parents at different periods of his life. He didn't know what to make of the idea that this was his reality.

"Do you have questions?" You asked him. "About anything?"

"Is Mama... is she coming back?"

You took a deep breath. "No, Nicky. She's not."

He looked down at his shoes, his little eyebrows drawn together. You wanted to hold him and make the pain disappear, but you couldn't. He barely knew you. It would take more than the days you'd known each other for him to trust you. The Snap had taken that bond away from you.

"We'll always remember her. And she'll never forget us," You promised. "Okay?"

"Okay," he said softly.

You looked at Stella. She was probably so confused. You tugged at the skirt of her dress to get her attention.

"Baby, you alright?" You asked.

"Mama's not dead," She cried. "Why is Mama dead?"

Your heart broke into a million pieces.

"Oh, baby." You knelt and pulled her into a hug. "I'm so sorry. I wish she were here."

"Where is she?"

"She's in heaven. She's with Grandma and Pop-Pop. They're taking care of her."

"But why?" Her lip trembled. It was in that way that always broke your heart.

"The world was a very bad place, and she sacrificed herself to fix it. She was a hero. She saved everyone, including you and Nicky."

"But why does that mean Mama's gone? Why can't she stay?"

You tried to blink away the tears forming.

"Sometimes things happen, and there's no reason, no logic. Sometimes, people leave, and we can't understand why."

"I want Mama. I don't want her to go," Stella's eyes watered. "Please."

"I know, baby. I know. So do I. I'm so sorry."

Stella leaned her head against your chest, her body shaking as she cried. You ran your hand through her hair and held her close, willing your warmth to be enough for the both of you.

Neihter of you were ready but it was something you had to do.

*********

Walking out of the lake house behind Pepper, Morgan, and Peter felt overwhelmed. It felt so wrong. There was no way Natasha was gone. You wanted to turn and run, find a way out of this reality, this nightmare. You scanned the crowd, noticing familiar faces and others you'd only ever heard about through Natasha’s stories—a reminder of the secrecy you had kept to protect your family.

Clint and Laura met your eyes, offering quiet support, and you gave them a faint, shaky smile in return. Nicky clung tightly to your hand, his other hand holding a small bundle of Natasha’s favorite flowers. You adjusted Stella on your hip, feeling the weight of her tiny arms wrapped around you, grounding you in this surreal moment.

As you stepped closer to the water's edge, you noticed the questioning looks of some of the people gathered there. They didn’t know who you were; they didn’t know Natasha’s family had quietly existed all this time. Ignoring the stares, you focused on what you came here to do, offering Natasha this final act of love.

Pepper placed her flowers gently on the water, a quiet tribute to Tony. Then, with a soft nudge, you guided Nicky forward. He stepped up, his small fingers trembling as he let the flowers slip into the lake. Nicky's dog, Ollie, had darted out of the house and now pressed his nose against Nicky's hand, sensing the boy’s sadness.

"Goodbye, Tony," he said softly, his eyes shining with tears. "Goodbye, Mama."

Pepper reached for him and pulled him into a tight embrace. Then she did the same for you and Stella, her expression solemn.

"Bye, Tony," Stella murmured, her face pressed against your chest. "Bye-bye, Mama."

Stella didn't know him. She didn't have memories of Tony, but she felt compelled to follow in her brother's steps.

You listened as Pepper began speaking, sharing memories of Tony and words of remembrance. You held it together, swallowing back the ache in your chest as her voice wavered over the water. She looked at you when she finished, nodding gently—it was your turn.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, holding Stella close, and faced the gathering.

"Natasha is..." You breathed. That wasn't right. "Natasha was my wife." You began. "She was a wife and a mother." You looked down at Nicky's proud eyes. "She loved harder than anyone I'd ever known. She was kind and strong and loyal."

You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall.

"But above all, she was brave. She was the bravest woman I'd ever met. And we will miss her. Every day. Every second. We will carry her memory with us." You sighed. "For eight long years, Natasha was my rock. Long before then, she was my everything. She gave me two beautiful children. Two amazing little humans who made every moment worth it. They remind me so much of her. A lot of you never knew about me. Never knew about us. It was better that way. Our own little secret. This family was something only we knew."

"But I'm telling you now because... If anyone needs to know about Natasha and how incredible she was, it's the people here. You knew her better than anyone. You've shared her battles, her victories. She was part of your family. So, for everyone who's not part of mine, let me share it with you. Let me tell you about her." You continued. You felt stronger the more you talked. "Having a person makes life easier to live. Having Natasha made my life so much better. She was the best thing that ever happened to me."

You felt a tear slide down your cheek. "Natasha and I didn't meet under ideal circumstances. She was a spy, and I was an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. We worked together on missions. Eventually, those late nights turned into something more. I was lucky enough to know her as a teammate. Later, I got to see the other side of her, the one only a few people knew. She was a good person. One of the best."

Your eyes found Clint's, and he nodded in understanding. He was the one who'd first introduced you.

"It wasn't always easy. Life never is. There were times when it was difficult. Hard choices, difficult sacrifices. But she always made sure to make things right, no matter what it cost her."

You wiped away a stray tear and took a shuddering breath.

"We will never forget her. Not a day will go by when I don't think about her. Her sacrifice will be felt for generations." You sniffed. "I can't promise I won't spend every waking moment wishing she were here. Wishing I could kiss her or hold her or hear her voice one more time. I'll do whatever it takes to ensure our children never forget her. She deserved better. A long, happy life. A future with all of us."

The dam burst, and you held back a sob. Pepper's soothing hand rubbed your back. She felt this grief, too.

"But if there's one thing I've learned in my life, it's that sometimes things just don't go the way we plan. And that's okay. We'll figure out how to move forward without her. We'll carry her in our hearts and minds and keep living the best lives we can."

*********

It had been three weeks of slowly packing away Natasha’s life, boxing up memories and fragments of her identity. Clearing out her apartment felt surreal; each item you wrapped and labeled was a bittersweet reminder. The decision to move Nicky away from his childhood home had been hard, but you knew it was time for a fresh start, somewhere the kids could grow and heal.

At precisely 8 a.m., the moving truck pulled up, ready to transport everything to your new brownstone. Natasha’s SUV idled in the street as you trailed behind the movers, the last piece you had yet to part with. It wasn’t as if you needed it in New York, but something about selling it felt too final, like letting go of another piece of her.

You ran a hand along the dashboard, the smell of Natasha still lingering, even after all this time. Going back to Missouri felt even harder—that was the home you had chosen together. You’d have to make the trip eventually to pack it up, but the thought alone made your chest tighten.

Lost in thought, you were brought back to reality by a voice from the backseat.

“No, I’m the big sister!” Stella was arguing, her voice firm with a tiny pout on her face.

You turned around, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Stella, honey, you’re not the big sister anymore. Nicky’s older than you.”

Stella scrunched her nose in defiance. “But I feel like the big sister!”

You laughed softly. “I know, sweetie. But it doesn’t work that way.”

Before she could fire back with more questions, something outside caught her attention. “Look, Mama! Another moving truck!”

You saw the large truck parked halfway across the road, its bulk blocking your path. Irritated but resigned, you parked Natasha’s SUV and climbed out, hoping to get them to move just enough so you could pass.

"Excuse me, I have a m—" you started to say but stopped. Your breath caught in your throat, a jolt of electricity shooting down your spine.

The movers were busy unloading furniture and boxes into the back of the truck, oblivious to your sudden stillness. You watched them work, your heartbeat growing louder, filling your ears. As you approached, a woman stepped out beside the truck, brushing her hands off her jeans. She had blonde hair that shimmered in the sunlight and sharp green eyes that locked onto yours. There was something vaguely familiar about her, though you couldn’t quite place it.

“Hey there! Sorry about the truck blocking the way. I was just helping unload,” she said with a friendly smile. “I’m Kelly. Just moving in next door.”

You introduced yourself, feeling a slight tug of recognition but pushing it aside. “Nice to meet you, Kelly. We’re actually moving in too. Guess we’re going to be neighbors. Where are you moving from?"

"Nebraska," Kelly nodded. "I'm a doctor. I wanted a bit of change. For some reason, I felt drawn to New York, so now I'm here."

You gave her a tight smile, wondering why her voice sounded so familiar. "Well, welcome to the neighborhood. I hope you enjoy it here. We'd love to have you over for dinner once we get settled. "

Kelly's smile widened, her gaze turning almost hopeful. "I'd like that."

fin

[changingplumbob]

CW: Low level sim spice - Guide to content warnings

Glenn found Silver reading his books again, and had to admit the sight of him relaxing on his bed was a nice one.

Silver: Are you wanting to jog now or not yet

Glenn: In a minute. There's something I want to give you first

Silver: A kiss?

Glenn: *smiles* Not this second. Um, do you know what a phone is?

Silver: Do I know what a phone is? Of course. It's a handset thing that lets you talk to people who are far away. Of course I've never really had to talk to people not with me

Glenn: Well I'm hoping that when you leave and are far away from me you might feel like talking to me still so this is for you

Silver: You got me a gift?

Glenn: Sort of. Um, so Ophelia can see the future and asked Miranda who is like a tech spellcaster to make something

Silver: I don't know what tech means

Glenn: It means technology. You know what technology is right

Silver: Televisions are technology and they're not bad. Can I open the box now?

Glenn: Yeah of course

Silver: This is so exciting! I haven't been given a gift in over a century

Glenn: Really? Well I'm honoured to break the drought

Silver opened the box and paused. Glenn grew worried, wondering if he'd misread the situation. Maybe Silver didn't actually like him enough to want to stay in touch. Watcher was he being too clingy?

Silver: I want to say I love it but honestly... I don't know what it is

Glenn: It's a phone, a smart phone

Silver: Smart? I thought phones had wires, and the fun spinning number dial. Or payphones have like the fun giant buttons

Glenn: Damn you really have been living away from society. Well technology, remember technology, has evolved. You don't need a giant box or a spinning dial, you just need this

Silver: So this shiny skinny brick is what phones look like now? I might need a crash course in using it

Glenn: Oh I can do that! But um... I'm trying to say... I know you like to be on the move and in nature more than me which really is saying something but if you have this it means wherever you are, I'll be able to talk to you. I would like to keep in contact with you Silver. If that's something you would want...

Silver: In contact? With me? I...

Glenn felt his breath catch in his throat. Maybe he had misread things. Maybe Silver just wanted a fun flirt and nothing more. Silver sat down on the bed and looked like he was thinking. Glenn didn't want to interrupt so just stayed where he was standing, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Silver: Glenn, I like you. I've thought you were handsome since I saw you on the TV but... I'm not the best bet for a relationship

Glenn: What do you mean

Silver: I've been away from anything resembling a society for a long time. I don't really know how to be with people anymore. I'm not good at social cues and I just say what's on my mind without caring if others think it's wrong because I'm used to them not liking me

Glenn: Well I like you

Silver: Maybe you do now but what will you do when your grandfather thinks I'm rude? Or when the other spellcasters tell you it's wrong to have feelings for a someone who doesn't even know what a phone smart is?

Glenn: I don't really care if you know what a smart phone is so long as you pick up my calls. Stop worrying about me for a second. Do you want a relationship in your future

Silver sat and thought. He missed having a family, even if his dad was harsh being part of something was nice. He had been alone for a long time but he didn't want to be that way forever. A partner... and maybe some kids... he wanted that. So if Glenn was here and willing to make some allowances why would he push him away?

Silver: I do. I want love and birthday parties and kids and the best fish I've caught swimming in bowls

Glenn: *chuckling* That does sound good. So will you let me show you how the phone works? And let me call you?

Silver: I'd like that

Glenn smiled and began to show Silver how to turn the phone off and on. As he worked his way through the phonebook and the messaging app Silver slid closer to Glenn. He could feel Silver's arm snake behind his waist and it became harder to focus.

Glenn: That's my number in yours and then I'll put you in mine under... Beefcake!

Silver: *chuckling* Beefcake?

Glenn: You wanted a cute nickname. Beefcake makes sense because you're beef, or at least your arms are

Silver: What does that mean?

Glenn: Built. Muscular, strong. And then cake because I think you're secretly sweet and I love eating cake

Silver: Do you promise to eat me then

Glenn: *blushes* I'm going to go get dressed for a run. You can get changed in here

When Glenn came out he was quickly distracted by the fact that Silver didn't have a shirt on. He did have abs! They were impossibly well defined. And the creases of his hips-

Silver: My eyes are up here Glenn

Glenn: Right! Um, sorry if I came back in to quick

Silver: Oh I don't have a shirt on when I go running, I get too hot. It's a werewolf thing

Glenn: Yeah... Running, we were going for a run

Silver let Glenn down the stairs ahead first, enjoying the view.

Previous ... Next

[124ndm]

villain!deku rambles.. eeerrmmm

i rlly want to start a comic about villain!deku, but im a little hesitant because i feel like it would be WAY too big of an undertaking for me..

but if ur at all interested, my ideas are below the cut. ^_^

My concept would start with the sludge villain incident. Other heroes get to saving bakugou before both midoriya or all might. This, in turn, means that he never gets OFA.. and never joins the hero course (yadada im sure this has all been written before). However I DO think that he would still join UA. Thats really my main motivation behind making a comic like this. In a lot of villain!deku stuff I see, he tends to abandon hero work altogether.. which i just dont think he'd do!! midoriya is VERY determined when he has his mind set on something, so I feel like he'd find some way to go to UA one way or another.

So, what would make him a villain then?? Well, it would definitely be a gradual build-up overtime. Assuming he takes the support-course route (which ig would make this a mashup of two aus, LOL), I think it would start with him helping vigilantes. Low-level illegal heroes convince him that by making support items, midoriya can advance in his field. He keeps doing these sorts of favors, knowing its unethical, out of a desperation to feel useful and help the 'heroes.'

I also think as a sort of parallel to bakugo, he'd start hanging around bad classmates like bakugo did during middle school. Being in a support course as opposed to a hero course means a very different demographic of students. We see a lot of instances IRL of students going into engineering good intentions, only to throw away morals for higher paying jobs (i'm sure yall have seen those Lockheed Martin tiktoks, need I say more 💀). We know characters like mei hatsume are very honest and dedicated to their craft, but what are the lower-level students like? What about the other classes? We don't really see much of that, so I think it'd be fun to explore the morally gray students of UA.

I think his final breaking point would be when he gets in kahoots with Giran. I don't think giran would immediately clock midoriya as a potential recruit, but instead would change his mind later: seeking out midoriya after Shigaraki shows interest in bakugo. (sure, they aren't in the same class anymore, but both of them being in UA works as a convenient connection).

After midoriya gets with shigiraki, I believe he'd certainly get a quirk (whether or not midoriya actually wants it, Im sure theyd give him one anyways. more power to their organization, and more leverage over midoriya). Soon after, the LoV would get into an altercation with class 1-A, which would probably get him expelled. Although, in-turn, fuel a stronger disproval towards hero society (and also compel izuku to get better at using his quirk, knowing that he has a lot of catching up to do).

And duh as the cherry on top, there'd be bkdk angst.. bakugo only realizing that midoriya got into UA after seeing his association with the league. The weird guilty feeling bakugou would get knowing that a kid he bullied ended up becoming a villain, but also pure anger at knowing that he even got into UA in the first place. And also, the inevitable midoriya/bakugo fight that would happen when the league and class 1-A have more encounters.

I haven't exactly decided on how to end it, but I feel like it would end with either a redemption or something similar to the whole togachako situation. More likely a redemption because, lets be for real here, midoriya is so kind-spirited that even as a villain: he'd probably fold when faced with a genuine bakugo apology or heart-to-heart All Might encounter LOL.

anyways im deffff yapping here, I did NOT intend for this post to be so fucking long HELP. I just really wanted to get my stupid ideas written down. Like i said earlier, this has prob been done before if we're being quite honest.. but I still I think making a comic like this would be sooo fun. But godd i am NOT a good writer so I worry that I would start and then never finish. aaaaah 😭😭

I'll just have to see if my motivation sticks around these next few weeks. If so, I'll probably start drafting this out!! If I do lose interest, well then.. this'll be the last you hear of my villain!deku rambles LMAO. I rlly hope I don't lose interest because this would be the first time ive written since like, early high school, and I really want to get back into writing again. Even in comic form, any kind of writing would be great practice for me. Dx

[collway]

Alright buddy, buckle up. This is my love letter to you because we made it to the one year mark.

Replying to this post last year was an impulse, and I honestly never thought we'd make it this far. And yet, here we are. I'm so incredibly thankful for that one fanfic that brought you on my path. You're a wonderful man, and it's an honor to be able to be speaking with you so often. You grew a lot this past year, and what started as a friendship simply for speaking about Gwen characters took a turn in the most delightful way. We may not agree on everything, and have very different lives, but know I mean it when I say you're the best friend I have ever made.

How come? I love you selfishly. You are the sweetest man I have ever came across. You are honest, clever, full of compassion, and you are a fighter. I am so, so very proud of you, Lou.I want you to be happy like you make me happy.I want you to thrive, grow old, and blossom into the amazing person I know you can be. Maybe I don't always find your actions rational or right, but it doesn't matter. I'll follow you down to Hell if it means you'll be safe and loved. I love you, Louie. You're perfect just the way you are, and every time you grow you only show me how human you are. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for allowing me to support you, to get an insight in your bright mind, to let me be the ear you need when things are bad or you just want to talk about your interest. I appreciate what you do for me as well because you are nothing short of generous either. I thank you for letting me be myself with you, my very authentic and unfiltered, sometimes rude and often frightened, self. You're not my rock - you get emotional with me, and you help me a lot more than by just being "my anchor." You make me become a better person for myself, and just for myself. I will continue to be selfish; you are my little brother whether you like it, or not. It's wonderful being close to you, but know that even if someday we don't speak anymore, I will still be rooting for you. I'll always be in your corner, no matter what. Distance is inconvenient, and I hate that I can't hold you, spend time with you like I wish I could, but we both know I would catch that flight if you were in a dangerous situation. I know you would do the same. Thank you for being as genuine and open with me, as I am with you, my boy.

Je ne peux pas concevoir ma vie sans ton intervention. Même quand j'ai touché le fond, même après avoir été une personne abjecte envers toi, tu es resté. Encore mieux, tu m'en as parlé et tu m'as laissé l'opportunité de faire mieux. En toute autre circonstance, je t'aurais probablement dit que c'était une énorme erreur… Mais tu n'as jamais eu besoin de mon jugement. Tu sais faire la différence entre une décision émotive et une décision impulsive et insensée. Merci Louie, merci d'être l'ami dont j'avais besoin et non l'ami que je voulais. Happy one year, my clever boy. It doesn't matter if you change as we grow - I'll still love you no matter what.

I WANT FRIENDS WITH THE SAME INTERESTS AS ME, BUT ALL THE PEOPLE ON THIS FUCKING APP ARE CREEPY ADULTS OR HAVE A MDI ON THEIR BIO(I totally understand the second, but c'mon, I want friends) I am on the verge of tears, I just want mutual friends

[katsu28]

just because he's cute doesn't mean he's good just because he's cute doesn't mean he's good

[comet-soda-lite]

I reiterate, WHAT IN THE HOMOSEXUAL IS EVEN GOING ON ANYMORE?????

[salamispots]

like...a month or 2 ago I devoured all of evan dahm's webcomics and now I'm just like I need to have all your comics in physical print pls

[thenixkat]

Anyway, if you aren’t Black don’t use any variation of woke. I don’t care what conservatives are calling fuckers/using as the new sjw/political correctness/what have you.

If you know what fuckers mean use what they mean, and if you don’t why are you copying what people are saying?

Woke ain’t for you. If the discussion isn’t about Black people being aware of and/or educating other Black people about racism/antiblackness/structural inequality/all the other bullshit then it doesn’t need to be used in the discussion.

[sskk-manifesto]

!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[arthurtaylorlester]

u don't even like the show anymore? nooo what happened

it was a collision of things. s4 was a very big disappointment for me and it was also around the time i started disagreeing with a lot of the fandom wide ideas and interpretations (coughsblindfaithcoughs).

the creator's attitude towards the shows (amongst other things) has been iffy. if you want to brag about how many listeners youre gonna lose during your next season then god help me i will make your dream a reality.

just in general the attitude towards the show on all fronts has put me off of listening to part 41. the breaking point was the john is a child take.

that isn't to say i don't care about john and arthur anymore, it's just that i'm choosing to ignore everything past part 31 (which by the way is THE best episode of the show let's be clear s4 delivered with that one)

basically i'm a suffering john stan in an environment inhospitable to john enjoyers. i won't continue listening to the show. i won't be changing my url. you could see this becoming a hoyoverse sideblog (yes i know niche fiction horror podcasts to chinese fantasy gacha games is a big leap to make but you don't even realise this used to be a mcyt and hannibal blog.)

feel free to complain about the show to me if you agree! ignore this if you like it, i'm glad it still brings you happiness!

[wellhalesbells]

the thing that fucks me up about rereading instructions for dancing is trying to pinpoint when it is that derek becomes obsessed with stiles and realizing the answer seems to be always. from the beginning. the moment they met. that poor bastard. he probably should have tried to be a little nicer about it, though, saved them both some hardship.

I think it slides so quickly from fear and annoyance that Stiles will steal Scott away to 'Oh no, oh fuck,' I'm not even sure Derek knows himself. Poor guy hamstrung himself by starting out with the 'I'm going to scare him away' mentality then wondering where the hell that went and trying to find it again through almost every subsequent interaction (while something so much bigger and so much worse - Derek's Thoughts™ - completely eclipsed it). Meanwhile Stiles also helps cultivate Derek's dickish-ness by assuming that original motivation to be his only interest in him at all, essentially until the moment Derek tells him he's in love with him.

Which is hopefully why it seemingly comes out of left field for Stiles and the reader, because that's what I wanted.

[epickiya722]

You know what, call it a "hot take" or whatever but when it comes to character designs in My Hero Academia, my favorite ones are the female character designs.

If you asked me which designs I like the most the list with mostly consist of the female characters.

That isn't to say I hate the male ones because I do have favorites and some female designs don't catch my eyes as much.

But just like in general of hairstyles, eye colors, skin tones, the vibes... whatever I find myself more attentive to the female character designs than I am for the male ones.