#i hope this message reaches those who need to see that with this show

[nemesis-21]

If anyone needs me, I'm going to be over here for the next week completely destroyed over the scene where Pisaeng kept saying that he was Kawi's loved one, but the doctor kept refusing to let him see Kawi because he wasn't legally his spouse.

[falesten-iw]

When I first joined Tumblr, I had no idea what I was walking into. There’s no manual for navigating this wild, untamed corner of the internet. My first moment here? I was greeted by an image completely naked, no warning, no explanation. It was just there, bold and unapologetic. That’s when I realized: Tumblr is a place where anything can happen.

But for all its chaos, Tumblr has become something far greater than I ever expected. For us Palestinians, this platform isn’t just a space to scroll through memes or vent about life. It’s a lifeline, a place where we’ve taken the raw, messy energy of this site and turned it into a battleground for survival. Here, we tell our stories, raise funds, and fight for our lives.

I’ve seen campaigns soar past their goals, bringing hope to families barely holding on. But I’ve also seen campaigns like mine, ones that fight tooth and nail for every single dollar, every reblog, every addition, and every ounce of hope. My family’s lives depend on this.

It hasn’t been easy. Zionists flood all Palestinian words with hate, twisting truths and spreading lies. They aim to discredit us, to make people doubt us. It’s exhausting. Some nights, I sit with my phone in my hands, wondering if this fight is too big for me. But then something beautiful happens: a donation comes through, a kind message appears, or someone I’ve never met reblogs my story with words that feel like a warm embrace.

And through it all, people are starting to see the truth. The hate doesn’t drown us; it sharpens our voices. Every day, more people step forward to stand with us, to say, “I see you, I hear you, and I’m with you.” It’s those moments that keep me going.

To everyone who has already helped, whether through verification, donating, wrting post , reblogging, or simply sharing a kind word: thank you. You’ve done more for my family than I could ever put into words. But the reality is, we’re not there yet. My family is still waiting for a chance to breathe, to live without fear, to fill their empty stomachs with warm food, and to wrap themselves in clothes thick enough to keep out the bitter cold. They’re hungry, they’re freezing, and I can’t do this alone.

This fight is hard, but it’s not hopeless. Strangers have become friends, and friends have become family. Some of you have shown up in ways I never imagined, treating my family’s survival as if it were your own. That kind of solidarity? It’s powerful.

Tumblr might be chaotic, unpredictable, and sometimes downright bizarre, but it’s also the place where we’ve built something extraordinary: a community that refuses to look away from injustice. With your help, we can take this fight all the way. My family’s lives are within reach, and together, I know we’ll get there.

This campaign isn’t just about me. It supports 26 people, including two orphaned children and an injured family member suffering from hemiplegia after being hit by shrapnel during a bombing. Surgery is desperately needed to replace the infected and failing plates. The needs are urgent, and the future of 26 lives depends on your support.

The video showing the injured family member is shared before in this post: Link.

Please help us ! Donate and reblog this post to spread our story.

Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.

Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link

Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link

Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link

Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link

If, for some reason, you couldn't donate via GoFundMe, you can donate via PayPal instead. Please keep the conversion rates in mind when donating through GoFundMe. Every 100 SEK is equivalent to 10 dollars, and 200 SEK equals 20 dollars and so on.

Note: There’s even a raffle for a handmade Palestinian thob if you want to participate : Link

@timetravellingkitty @deathlonging @briarhips @mazzikah @mahoushojoe

@sar-soor @rhubarbspring @pcktknife @thatdiabolicalfeminist @turtletoria

@sawasawako @feluka @appsa @anneemay @commissions4aid-international

@wellwaterhysteria @mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @7bitter @tortiefrancis

@watermotif @stuckinapril @mavigator @lacecap @determinate-negation

@socalgal @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @elbiotipo

@el-shab-hussein @heritageposts @communistkenobi @deepspaceboytoy @molsno

@mesetacadre @forevergulag @gazafunds @northgazaupdates2 @freepalestinneee

@komsomolka @muppet-sex @nabulsi @fading-event-608 @buttercuparry

@prierepaiienne @interact-if @unified-multiversal-theory @inkstay

@socialjusticekitten-blog @socialgoodmoms @nowthisnews @socialgoofy @fightforhumanity-rpg-blog

@fightforhumanity-rp @queerandpresentdanger @90-ghost @timogsilangan @punkitt-is-here

@fox-guardian @hiveswap @valtsv @helppeople @ibtisams

@annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @vakarians-babe @plomegranate @queerstudiesnatural @tamamita

@apollos-boyfriend @akajustmerry @marnosc @flower-tea-fairies @tsaricides

@belleandsaintsebastian @ear-motif @brutaliakent @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish

@4ft10tvlandfangirl @communistchilchuck @fairuz @sarazucker @fairuzfan

@a-nautilus-as-pixel-art @13eyond13 @stil-lindigo @baby-indie-blog

@marnota @vivisection-gf @brutaliakhoa @the-bastard-king @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness

@neptunerings @malcriada @turian @girlinafairytale @abnormalicacid

@sylvianritual @mothblossoms @autisticmudkip @lesbianmaxevans

@nabulsi27 @palestinegenocide @orblesbian @palebluebutler @pallasisme

@riding-with-the-wild-hunt @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @morallyrainyday @jame7t @el-shab-hussein

@jonpertwee @flipton @bell-bones @ragingbullmode @envytherose

@rodent178 @tangledinourstrings @kraigerzz-blog @frogbrainedfool @the-ending-of-dramamine

@redsavesquare @uninvited-eon @glenbot @ultimateumbreon33 @pitbolshevik

@disastersim @airsigh @cowboy-queer @lapastelr0sa @sharingresourcesforpalestine

@rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world @kropotkindersurprise @cruzwalters @la7ma-mafrooma @rosyish

@bookskittychad @streakoflavender @miraclemaya @devilofthepit @paper-mario-wiki

@gay-yosuke @cometcrystal @nb-marceline @cicadaland @charlott2n

@manletwizard @2blushie @antiauteur @acnologia-is-best-dragon @bitchmael

@penelopiaad @hashiramashonkers @laughtracklesbian @legallymean @b0nkcreat

@crapscicle @uwu-pinata @syntheticspades @momxijinping @longlivepalestina

@saberboi-1 @martinmynster @nako-funky @trans-leek-cookie @vaticinatrix

@moomoobug @narwa @twilightobservationtower @estrellasrojas @knxfesck

@lakeeffectbitch @fatbitchneedsfoodbadly @no-thats-absurd @humanmorph

@sandiwchirlinreal @tcda @misspiggyforvogueitalia @gamb0fficial @vincentspork

@gemstonedraws @frankendykes-monster @mizoguchi @kos-mos @ryoki-ph

@blackwoolncrown @nightwussy @freehologramreview @melancholy-hummingborb

@sister-lucifer @nonbinarymerbabe @raventhecoolestpersonever @ebenrosetaylor @wellwaterhysteria

@inkbomber @collectoroflovelythings @k00ldino @sundung @extrabitterbrain

@names-hard @killaltrock @thatdarngreenpixie-blog @angelsarecomputers @to00fu

@secretgoths @cauli-flawa @faraliniste @adrowninggrip @thesavagesnakeplant

@g-l-a-s-s-h-e-a-r-t-s-s @illuminated-runas @silverstone-gp @saintverse @whalefill

@emathyst9 @trasno-personal @turtles-on-turts @dendrosystem

@readingsquotes @bellybuttonblue2 @bees-fart-too @andiv3r-reblogging @sillyseer

@cloudedcari @tachycardial @evileyeamulet @pompompotato @shamemp3

@jihaad @italofobia @stealthjet @pinnyy @sivavakkiyar

@chronicowboy @bi-worm @ydic74the @amorosebeing @golvio

@dailyquests @punkitt-is-here @opencommunion @postanagramgenerator @a-scary-lack-of-common-sense

@paper-mario-wiki @prisonhannibal @a-shade-of-blue @ramshackledtrickster @punkitt-is-here

[vampiefemme]

modern!vi who’s down horrendous for you. she gets home from the gym, sweat-damp and sore, ready for a much-needed shower after hitting a new pr and kicking her own ass during her workout. she’s undressing in the foggy bathroom when her phone pings from the counter, your name lighting up the screen. she tosses her shirt to the side and unlocks the phone to see your message.

missing you sooo bad right now, you’ve texted her. attached is a photo of you, shirtless, with your perfectly manicured nails delicately cupping your tits. might have to touch myself… help me out?

vi scoffs at your message, but she clicks on that photo again, zooms in and analyzes it until she’s sure she’s memorized every individual pixel.

fuck, you’re perfect. fuck fuck fuck.

steam from the shower has fogged up the mirror entirely, and it’s deathly humid in the bathroom. but vi’s got a soft spot for you - she’d do anything you asked her to, even if your version of asking is merely suggesting… no, bribing. that photo was definitely a bribe.

vi messes around with a few potential angles, propping her phone up on the counter, then on the floor, even on the back of the toilet. nothing looks right, and she’s so sweaty and frustrated that she almost decides not to send you anything at all. she rips open the shower curtain, huffing an annoyed sigh before her eyes land on the shower head.

huh, that’s an idea.

fifteen minutes later, as you’re lazily dragging your fingers through your cunt, horny and annoyed that vi hasn’t texted you back, you get a notification. it’s a video, you realize with a giddy whir of excitement, and you click play without a second thought. one hand cradling your phone, the other between your thighs, you watch as vi settles the camera down on a shelf by the window. her scarlet locks are damp with sweat, droplets of water from the shower rolling down her inked skin. fuck, you’ll never get used to that body - she’s all lean muscles and sharp edges, so dangerous until she’s holding you with those calloused hands and curling her frame up against yours.

and now? she’s biting her lip, trying to make a show of trailing a hand down her abdomen - she stops short, though, reaching off to the side instead. her hand returns with the running shower head, and you draw in a sharp, excited breath. as if she could hear you, vi lets out a little chuckle and says, “i know, unexpected. i haven’t done this in years.”

she fiddles with the shower head, flicking a switch at the neck until the water flow changes to a more… optimal setting. the stream’s a lot more focused now, more intense.

“worked myself up a bit before this. hope that’s okay, princess.” vi flashes a smirk at the camera, but with her cheeks painted that pretty pink shade, you know she’s a little embarrassed. uncertain.

you’re grateful that the camera angle lets you see every detail of what vi’s doing - how her body moves. she hitches a leg up against the shower wall, just high enough to spread herself open. the soft curls between her legs are untamed and wet, and your cunt twitches at the sight of vi’s pink, pink cunt, spread beautifully - you only get one glance, though, before the silver shower head blocks your view. vi hisses through her teeth and her hips twitch. you sigh, your fingers playing in the wetness between your legs as you watch vi toss her head back in pleasure. every moan that passes her lips goes straight to your clit - you’re needy, gushing wetter every time you see vi’s tits bounce or her jaw clench.

“fuuuuck,” she cries out, her face a vision of pleasure. mouth hung open, brows knitted together, eyes foggy with lust. “gonna come, shit, baby…”

water drips from vi’s hair down to her shoulders, rolling in beads down her tense chest. she’s heaving, panting, gasping your name as her orgasm slams into her, tatted biceps flexing as she forces the shower head to stay in place. her orgasm seems to last forever, streams of water gushing from her pussy down to the shower floor - and then she’s done, spent.

it’s almost like vi forgets about the camera for a moment. she hums in pleasure, still panting a bit as she comes back down from her high. she licks her lips, then her eyes meet the camera - and oh, she looks wrecked.

“hope that’s enough material for you, pretty girl,” she says to the camera, winking playfully before the video cuts out.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Academia - Alone Together

Masterlist

Pairing: Aged up Damian Wayne x f reader

Tags: NSFW, academic setting, rivals to lovers, friends with benefits, angst, smut, fingering, penetrative, shower sex, edging, ■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

He had his work cut out for him with you, and he would start with getting you alone.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

You sat at the corner of your parents' queen size bed, helping your mother fold her clothes for her upcoming trip.

The day before, your mother was filled with excitement when she entered the kitchen, a huge grin plastered on her face. "We won a free trip to New York!"

Turns out her company had held a lottery for the workers, two two-way tickets to New York City.

"I applied on a whim." Your mother shrugged. "Who would have thought I'd actually get it." Her hopeful gaze went to your dad. "We can visit my mother!"

Your father smiled back. "That's amazing, honey. It would ne good for the two of you to see each other."

The overall happiness of the room didn't infect you, who tensed up as soon as you heard your mother announcing that your parents were going away. You swallowed nervously. "When's the flight?"

Your mother checked the tickets. "October twentieth."

Your pulse spiked. So soon. "That's in two days..." Your shoulders lowered.

"Honey, will you be alright here?" Your father reached for your hand.

No. You wanted to say. But when you saw how eager your mother was at the prospect of visiting your grandmother - who sha ahsnt seen in a year - the word froze in your mouth. "Yes, I'll be fine. You two enjoy your trip."

So here you were, helping your mother carry her suitcase down the stairs. Your father was dressed in his casual flight outfit, fanny pack-clad, as he loaded the trunk of his five year old Toyota sedan on your driveway.

Mama, don't go. You itched to say. What if it's not safe?

You admonished yourself for the childish and selfish thought.

Kissing and hugging your parents goodbye. You can do this, you told yourself. You can stay home alone. You've done it all your life. Why not now?

But when the door closed and the silence took over, bringing with it unease.

You busied yourself with chores. You washed the parkette floor, vacuumed the carpets, and prepared dinner for yourself, all while the tv was blaring in the background, providing some much needed noise. You sent your parents texts asking for updates every hour. You were glad they messaged you that they landed safely, and we're on their way to your grandmother's.

Come evening time, you turned on all of the lights downstairs to drown out the darkness coming in from the windows. It didn't help. The noise blended in with the silence to create a sense of uncertainty, even within the familiar walls of your childhood home. Your breathing grew quick and shallower. You went to your parents' room, closed the door behind yourself, and locked it before taking a seat on the soft carpet floor against it. You tried to calm yourself, steadying your breath. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay-"

The doorbell rang, making you gasp.

It was him. That man. The awful human being who tied you up, gagged you, and left you drugged and hallucinating your worst fears on the floor of your research lab, with no one able to hear your muffled screams.

Until... he showed up. Robin. Your guardian angel, who tore you from those visions. Who saved and protected you. "He'll come, he'll save me, he will. He will." You convinced yourself, oblivious the heavy footsteps making their way up the second floor.

"Y/n?" Damian’s deep voice muffled through the door you were currently leaning against, making your pulse spike with relief and something else. "Y/n, it's Damian."

The relief washed over you in a smooth wave. You let out a breath and scrambled up and opened the door. You felt extacy as seeing his tall frame so close. Concern etched on his sharp features as those all-knowing green eyes studied you under black hair. Before you could think better of it, you enveloped him into your arms. His warmth was a much welcome sensation against your cold, shivering limbs. Tears threatened to roll out the corners of your eyes as you held onto him like a lifeline.

"Hey, you're okay." His hand came up to cradle your head. It was an oddly comforting gesture from him. So were the reassuring words. You wondered if he'd ever consoled anyone else, consistently repeating, "Everything's okay." Like he was right now, with you.

His voice and touch grounded you in reality, and you managed to pull your breath down to a normal rhythm. He came. He came for you. You were lucky enough to have more than one guardian angel.

"P-please stay," you wispered, not caring how desperate you sounded.

"I'm not going anywhere." His words were a promise.

You let him lead you downstairs and pour you some water. The two of you find a seat in your small kitchen. He sat across from you on the creaky wooden chair as the tea kettle boiled. The entire time, you didn't let go of his hand, so large and safe in your smaller palm. "Would you like some dinner? I made soup."

"Sit. I'll get it." He got up to open the fridge, and you mourned the loss of his touch as you sat back against your chair.

After you and Damian ate the chicken soup you prepared, he got up to put away the plates, freezing mid-step.

"What is it?" You asked.

"Where's your dishwasher?"

"We don't have one." You explained. "Here, let me wash it."

"No, no, I got it." He brought the dishes to the sink, lowering them, then turning back to you. "I'll do it later."

You let out a soft giggle. "You don't have to."

He turned to you, deadpan expression on his face. "You don't think I can wash dishes?"

You shut your lips together, then gave him a shy nod. His tongue poked the side side of his cheek as he raised a brow at you. "Watch this,"

He turned around and got to work, demonstrating to you as he squinted an excessive amount of soap onto the punch and lathered the dishes with it. Then, he rinsed and held them in his hands, unsure of the next steps. You giggled, taking the plates off his hands and setting them down on the drying rack. "If I used thos much soap each time I washed the dishes, we'd be out of money."

You turned to see Damian huff, and a guilt tugged at your nerves. "You did well, though." You hoped the words reassured him.

"Wanna laugh?" He pursed his lips.

You nodded.

"That was my first time washing a dish."

"Yeah, I assumed." You bit your lip.

His gaze traveled to the floor, and he murmered, "Shut up." Eliciting another string of laugher from you.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Damian stood at your doorstep, his hand reaching out for you as you talked yourself up to take it.

"I want you to come outside with me." He told you a minute ago. "Just to the end of the porch. Then we'll go back home."

You were about to protest, but he gave you a look that told you not to bother.

With the door opened, you nervously searched around the quiet dark street outside your house. The only light came from the streetlights, and the sounds were rustling of leaves. Other than that, the evening was peaceful. Calm. You swallowed nervously, your hand coming to wrap around his.

"There we go," he reassured, stepping backward onto the porch, pulling you with him. Your breath seized as you jerked your hand back, not meaning to.

You met his gaze. He didn't look disappointed or even upset. In fact, he was simply standing there, holding his hand out to you like he was your boyfriend, picking you up for prom.

"Sorry," you shed. "I didn't mean to-"

"I know. Let's try that again." He said quietly. "I'm right here."

You nodded. "You're right here."

"Exactly. Walk to me." He instructed gently. "I'm want to hold you."

Those words had you blushing as you nodded once more. "Okay, okay,"

You took a shaky step and had one food out of the house. Your breathes came fast, but you clenched your muscle, forcing yourself not to go back. "Damian," you called out to him.

"Right here, baby." He answered. "You're doing very well."

"How much more?" Your voice shook as you asked.

"Just down those two steps." He spoke calmly. "I'm so proud of you. You're almost there."

He was proud of you. The thought had your heart speeding out of happiness, not fear this time, and you dared another step down.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

You had sweated profusely and were shivering at the same time. Damian suggested a hot shower would help you calm down.

"Will you stay outside in my room? Please?" You stammered.

He kissed the top of your head and nodded.

After five difficult minutes of sitting on your bed, arms crossed, and leg bouncing in a state, he would describe anything but "calm." Damian got up and opened your shower door.

Damian made his way into the shower, the steam filling his senses as he found you, pouring soap into your hands. He discarded his shirt first. You noticed him, your eyes roaming down his bare upper half. Ridges of muscle never seemed to end, and you blushed again at the thoughts he inspired in you. You didn't say anything, so he lowered his jeans and briefs, slowly stepping into the hot stream with you. He placed a gentle hand on your hip, turning you to face the wall away from him. Pouring some soap into his hands, he began lathering your skin, starting with your back, then making his way around to your chest. Your breath hitched when his hands took your breasts, soap covered thumbs gently gliding over your hardening nipples, making you shudder.

He spent a couple minutes teasing you there. Fingers flicking, pinching, and tickling your nipples. Your back arching against him, hands coming up to press your hands against the wall. "Ah, ah,"

At last, his palm slid down from your breast to cup your core. The sensation had you rolling your head back as you released a breathy moan. "Damian, please, please,"

He breathed heavily against your ear. "What?"

"Please..." You keen searching for the correct words. "... distract me? Make me forget..."

Slowly, his fingers slid down to your core and spread your folds, baring you open, and lining himself up against you before at last, thrusting into you. You welcomed the wonderful stretch with an enthusiastic embrace - your hand coming to hold the nape of his neck behind you. "Mhnn, yes, yes,"

Seeing you like this - so pliable, so desperate - completely conflicted with his original plan coming here. He showed up with a series of excersize in mind to reintroduce you to the idea of safety - of a normal life again, free of fear and paranoia. But of course, he'd gotten carried away the moment he saw you.

Maybe... that's what you - both of you - needed at this moment. He'd been just as eager to get his hands on you as you were at the prospect of being held by him. You wanted a distraction? No problem.

Then, just as you were reaching your climax, all of a sudden, he stopped moving his hand, and his hardness stopped from driving back into you.

You whined at the hugh you were just cut off from. "Damian?" You murmered weakly. "Why'd you stop?"

"You said you wanted a distraction." His response came as if it was obvious. "I plan on making it count."

You shuddered as his breath carresed your shoulder, making your hair rise even in the steaming water. "Oh, please," you moaned. "Please, Dami -"

"Fuck," he groaned at the nickname. His dark arms wrapped around you in a protective embrace, as he moaned, low and dangerous in your ear. He began slowly pushing back into you. "Fuck, I've missed you,"

"Me too." You admitted. "Please, don't stop."

He huffed darkly against your ear. "Say you missed me again, perfect girl. Say it."

"I've missed you."

"Call me 'Dami' again." His fingers were back on your clit and his thrusts picked up again. "Tell me you need me."

"Hnnh, yes, I need you, Dami," you complied, your voices breaking into gasps matching the rhythm of his hips. "So much!"

"Say you'll never leave me again,"

"..."

"... y/n..." His tone was a warning.

"But..." Your voice caught in your throat. You were also caught between unbearable pleasure and your own inner conflict. Your voice broke when you argued, "But that's not fair."

His hand rose to wrap around your throat, though he didnt apply any pressure. "What's not fair?"

"Y- youre the one who didn't want a relationship with me." You stammered.

He pressed his thumb on a vein on your neck, just under your jaw that made your vision go white for a moment. Your head felt light, your thoughts swam and the continued stimulation from his fingers on your clit became much more sensitive as you bucked your hips against him.

"Well, now I do." He declared.

"Well... thats..." You felt your anger rise along with the heartbeat in your chest. It was a feat, balancing lust, anger, and confusion all at once, but you managed somehow. You were very proud of that accomplishment. You weren't proud of the words you used to carry your point across though. "That's dumb, Damian! You're dumb."

Yes. That'll show him, you thought. Especially when all that came from him was silence, shortly followed by a snort of laughter in your ear. His body shook against you. His fingers pausing their ministration on your clit, depriving you of yet. Another. Orgasm. The climax subsided as you clenched around him uselessly. The action had you grumbling in frustration. Here he was, laughing at you while he had you at his mercy. So... cruel!

And you... you little weakling, let him. Let him exercise power of you. Because damn it, it felt good. It's what you needed. All this time without him was wrong. God, he knew exactly how to play you.

So much for feminism. You clutched your hands into fists against the shower wall as a thought occurred. "The water bill is gonna be insane," you complained.

His laughter died down. "If you're thinking about the water bill while we're having sex -"

"Not everyone's rich!" You snapped at him over your shoulder.

Damian could barely contain himself. You were so fucking cute when you were angry. Looking up at him with those glassy eyes that tried too hard to narrow at him. Your pink lips were pouting, too. Inviting all kinds of bad intentions. He loved seeing your resolve crumble.

"Yeah," He gripped your thigh, his tone taunting. "Isn't it great?" He ground out. "You plebs work twenty-four-seven and get nothing, and I get whatever I want."

His fingers returned to your clit, now making rough little circles in excelerating speed. "Speaking of which..."

You weren't propared for the intense wave of pleasure. Your hands didn't know what to hold onto.

"I wanna see you come for me." He wispered against your ear.

"Ask nicely then!" You managed, determined not to indulge him until you got one win. Which was ironic, considering you were edged for the last thirty minutes, and you really, really could use an orgasm.

He let out a chuckle before biting your shoulder. "I wanna see you come for me. Now." The last words were spoken with fake sweetness as he began to thrust into you again. Roughly.

You tried to respond, but words didn't come to you. He'd done what you asked of him - made you forget. The only thing on your mind was his name: "Damian, Damian," which you panted over and over again.

"Gonna sleep so well tonight, baby." He cooed. "Gonna fuck you till you pass out."

You nodded eagerly, feeling that familiar warm feeling start in your core again. "Uh huh, yeah, yeah-"

The long anticipated orgasm had finally reached. You moaned and writhed through it for minutes, as Damian panted and moaned against you, letting the pleasure connect you as a whole.

You fought and lost to your exhation. Slumping against his hard body. You felt yourself be washed with gentle and careful hands, then wrapped in a towel and carried to your twin bed. You felt a silk material brushing against your skin, and guessed Damian must have found the nighty you left for yourself to wear after your shower.

As you were slipping in and out of awareness, your hand rose to hold him, weakly pulling him to you.

Damian dried himself and lay down behind you, wrapping you in his warm arms and turning you towards him. You were petite and fragile in his arms, so innocent and sweet. His brilliant, perfect girl.

As he watched your chest rise and fall with each calm breath you took in your sleep, Damian vowed three things: 1. He wouldn't let anyone else have a view of you like this. 2. He would bring you back to doing what you loved. And 3. He would never let anyone compromise your safety again.

[pippin-katz]

Jayden, George & Cameos

Alright, maybe this is me being presumptuous, but I feel like I need to say something. I’m going to offer my two cents about the cameo situation.

I did not buy a cameo when George did it, but upon asking someone who did, they costed £40. The price of the joint cameo is evidently £80.

Is that too high of a price?

If you thought £40 for George’s cameo was fine, then you have to say “no”.

George by himself was £40. If Jayden made his own by himself, it would probably also be £40. Therefore, if you add them together, you get £80.

People need to understand that while they might have fun with the cameos, they are still working. Recording videos like that is exhausting, and if you don’t think so, you’ve clearly never done it. I have recorded reaction videos and after thoughts and stories for years, and I still get exhausted if I have to do a multiple part story, or do it over and over until I’m satisfied.

Now, I know a lot of people are peeved more about the phrasing of these joint cameos as a “gift for the fans” when the price might be out of budget for a lot of people.

But if you are throwing a tantrum over it, you need to sit the fuck down, and check your damn privilege.

It is a gift.

They don’t have to do this. They literally don’t. They don’t have to interact with us. They don’t have to post anything. They owe you nothing.

Instead, they have taken the time out of their days, their schedules, whatever they might be busy with, or even if they’re relaxing, and they’ve decided to record video messages for you.

Not to mention, do you even understand what they are putting themselves in risk of emotionally or mentally?

The very first thing that came to a LOT of people’s minds when this was announced was: “I hope no one asks them to kiss because we’ll never get Payneland.”

If you didn’t think that, congratulations! You have apparently been fortunate enough not to encounter what real Internet behavior is like. Or maybe you’re new to a fandom space, and this is your first time! Great!

You might be thinking: “No one would actually do that; at least not in this fandom!”

But the truth of the matter is that there are many people who would and probably WILL do that.

The anonymous nature of the Internet has enable millions, and I mean millions, of people to act on and voice their most disgusting and disturbing thoughts. The content or person does not always reflect on the people who digest or interact with it. There are monsters everywhere; they are in every space whether you encounter them or not.

By being online all of us open ourselves up to the risk of people attacking us or exposing us to things we do not enjoy or want. For people of any level of fame, it’s multiplied tenfold.

George and Jayden can turn off direct messages, block people, mute tags, and whatnot, so they can avoid most attempts to reach them. By offering these cameos, they are giving a direct route for people to type whatever the hell they want into their message, and whether they like it or not, they’ll probably be reading it.

This is an open invitation for those awful people to request anything, to say anything, to ask anything, even if they report it and don’t respond, they’ll likely see it.

Invasive questions about their sexualities, their relationships, their personal lives. Disgusting thirst messages. Disturbing requests asking for specific things to act as a replacement or substitute for what we would’ve liked to see in the show.

Anything and everything you can think of is possibly something they will encounter, and they’re willing to take that risk to give you something special. To talk directly to you, even if it’s only for a minute.

It’s become increasingly clear, to me at least, that Jayden is a sensitive soul. Not in a “can’t take a joke” way, or in any condescending way. He’s just kind. He’s kind in a way that is taken advantage of in online spaces. He’s also young. A lot of this is still new to him.

He apologizes like it’s his fault if his stream chat gets some bad people in it. He was talking about how he wanted to continue playing Detroit: Become Human really badly, but felt like we would be upset if he didn’t stream his entire play-through. He asked for a list of names of people who support him on Twitch, their usernames and actual names, because he wanted to keep track of them.

Jayden was really excited about the joint cameos. He looked so thrilled to talk about it, and was looking forward to hanging out with George, and doing this for fans.

When fans turned around and yelled about prices, it probably crushed him! Instead of reciprocated excitement, he got bitterness and hate. And for something that he might not even have control over, mind you.

It feels like he can never do enough to make fans happy.

It’s not his fault the show was canceled, but he probably feels just as bad about it as we all do! It’s disappointing! It’s upsetting! And he wanted to do it! But he can’t, and that has to feel frustrating as someone passionate about what they do.

It’s not his fault some fans are toxic or judgmental of every interaction he has with his community. It’s not his fault that people spread hate.

But it probably feels like he can at least put a stop to it by not continuing to do any of it. If he just stops streaming, no toxic chats. If he stops talking to fans, no people complaining about favoritism.

I don’t blame him for wanting to walk away entirely.

To wrap this up, if you have anything disrespectful to say about the boys or this situation, do us all a favor and keep your damn mouth shut.

I expected better from this fandom than behaving like entitled children. We’ve gained thousands of signatures, rallied together to buy a billboard for this show, but we can’t maintain a supportive space for the actors? How do you expect us to succeed in saving this show if we can’t even do that?

To make a long story short (too late), fans, do fucking better.

[bioethicists]

Come Chat about Psych Abolition + Harm Reduction!

Over the past several weeks, I've hosted 5 Zooms where we chatted about psych abolition + its futures + the work we want to see in the world. It was a deeply healing experience for me + I appreciated hearing from all of you so much more than you could even know. As I discussed, I am hoping to host a second set of these Zooms, this time 6 in sequence, focused on harm reduction + psych abolition. Harm reduction is both my vocation + my passion in life + I'm really excited to share about it with you all.

As some people requested, the format this time will be a little different- I will open each session with a brief (~15 min) presentation from either myself or one of my comrades discussing the topic + explaining crucial works in a way that is accessible to someone with no prior knowledge of harm reduction. After that, we will chat similarly to the format of the first set of meetings, bouncing ideas off one another + sharing what resonates with us + what doesn't.

A reminder to anyone who wants to attend that under no circumstances may anyone contact the authorities as a result of anything spoken about during the Zoom. Free discussion of self-injury + suicidality + substance use are expected without fear of being “crisis” intervened upon. That being said, the goal of these chats is not necessarily to be a support group but more to talk about psychiatric abolition, build community, + increase knowledge.

I will be doing 3 weekday evening sessions + 3 midday Saturday sessions (apologies to those who observe Shabbat! My Sundays became a bit haywire), hoping to accommodate people with different work schedules + time zones. They will be via Zoom. Each topic will repeat 2x, but I still encourage people to attend both if they want to chat more about it! 'Lurking' (aka camera off, no speaking) is encouraged! Any way that you want to show up is okay- we regularly have people attend who do not engage at all, or only engage in the chat. Chat messages are read aloud by me to ensure that chat participants feel equally included in the group.

Also, I am looking for people who have resources that may be helpful for these, as well as people who might be interested in speaking about their experiences with these topics. Unfortunately this is all just done by me, in my office, so I don't have compensation to offer, but anyone who wants to contribute in any capacity is encouraged to reach out <3 Elliott @trans-axolotl will be giving the presentation portion for Harm Reduction (Self-Injury + Suicidality).

Also, if you would like to join the Madness + Liberation forum where we discuss psychiatric abolition at greater length, please feel free to fill out my Google Form here.

Those of you who need a dial-in number, please message me on Tumblr or send an anon + I will provide it.

Resource Masterlist

Summary of the first set of sessions, Substance Use

Summary of the second set of sessions, Disorderly Eating

Summary of the third set of sessions, Self-Harm

(image by asako narahashi, 2003)

[bellestarot]

About Your Next/Current Relationship❣️

🎄 Take your time to choose

︵‿︵‿︵ʚĭɞ‿︵‿︵‿

Pile I

I’m getting the message that if you’re already in a relationship, you might be going through a period of sadness. You used to feel happy in this relationship, enjoying your time with this person. Things were different from how they feel now. Are you waiting? Perhaps for a response or an apology from this person? This waiting is affecting you deeply—hoping for a text or a conversation. I see you becoming more withdrawn during this time.

If you’re single, I can tell you that your next relationship will arrive unexpectedly, at a moment in your life when you’re not emotionally at your best. This person will appear, and both of you will need to be patient as you navigate this connection. You’ll have to balance things in your life to build a healthy relationship with them.

This period will require you to work on your emotions, allowing you to open your heart and regain the fun, outgoing nature that defines you. If you’re already in a relationship, I see the need for an honest conversation. Communication is essential for resolving issues. If this doesn’t happen, I foresee the possibility of a breakup.

This person appears to come from a wealthy family with a solid financial foundation, a nice home, and a stable career. However, they are also hardworking and independent, not solely reliant on their family. They are patient, love traveling, and enjoy giving meaningful gifts to those they care about. Quality time is important to them, and they will likely invite you to travel together and meet their family.

Although they have a big heart and enjoy helping others, they can get easily frustrated. They struggle to control their emotions, becoming stressed or crying easily. Despite this, they are very creative, with talents they’ve nurtured since childhood—for example, playing piano or excelling in a math competition.

This person will care deeply for you and express their affection through the time they spend with you. Their friends will also appreciate you, and they will proudly introduce you to the important people in their life.

Pile II

Your future partner is someone who has been keeping an eye on you for a while. This person is already interested in you and knows you, but they won’t tell you directly that they like you. They have feelings for you secretly.

I don’t see you actively seeking a relationship at the moment. You seem okay with it if someone comes into your life, but if not, that’s fine too. In fact, when this person finally shows interest, you may still feel this way. I see you being a bit more withdrawn right now when it comes to relationships and meeting someone new. But this person has a lot of love to give. They are bright, fun, and enjoy talking and making people laugh. It would be a great time for you both to get to know each other, and for them to express how they feel.

However, I see you being very critical of yourself, judging your actions a lot, and not resting. You work hard and do a lot but don’t give yourself time to relax.

If you’re already in a relationship, I see that you keep some things to yourself. You don’t tell your partner about certain feelings or past events, and they are waiting for a chance to improve things between you two. They want to offer a better relationship and quality time together, letting things flow naturally. This person might be more family-oriented and may want to have kids, while you don’t currently think about that, which can create a conflict. You may feel judged, but your partner doesn’t see you as someone who should be responsible for everything either.

This person has a way of making everyone feel at home and like best friends after just one conversation. They will easily grab your attention and reach your heart because they are warm, fun, and energetic. But they can be forgetful or avoid confrontation at times. They love spending time with others and have been judged in the past for treating friends like partners. This approach has led to misunderstandings in past relationships, but it’s because they care deeply for everyone. They have experienced heartbreak and betrayal but have moved on. They work on their mental health to stay strong. I see this person telling their friends that they like you, and everyone already knows. However, if someone tells them that you found out, they wouldn’t know what to do.

Pile III

If you are single, your next relationship will come after you move on from what happened to you. Once you get over that, someone new will appear. This person will be adventurous, fun, and everyone will be 100% in love with you. I see this person showing up at your house late at night, inviting you for a walk. I also see this person sending you gifts and flowers wherever you are. They will be completely in love with you.

This person loves giving gifts and enjoys parties and fun. You might need to be open-minded and not restrict them because they will introduce you to their lifestyle this way.

But you’re a bit different from them. They love parties, while you might be more of a homebody, someone who prefers staying in. You particularly like tarot, but it’s about adapting or respecting each other’s space and living life true to yourself and each other. This person has great potential to be a responsible man and a family man in the future, which is very interesting.

If you’re already in a relationship, the issue is the parties and the social scene. This person going out to see friends and party without you has become a big obstacle in your relationship. Even though you love them, they seem to love the adventurous lifestyle and travel even more. This has caused tension between you two, even though it’s not new to you. It bothers you greatly, and you’ve argued about it before.

This person is not bad; they are actually inspired by their mother. Their mother, who has always been a hardworking woman, has greatly influenced who they are. Because of her, this person has worked since an early age and understands money and the market.

When this person is in a serious relationship, they become very intense, as if it’s the last relationship of their life. They become very focused and can be possessive or suffocating. At the same time, they may show unhealthy behaviors. If you do something that affects their ego, they might start playing mind games, talking to others to get a reaction, or behaving in other troubling ways. Even if you’re in a relationship, they might still engage with other people. Pay attention to these signs if you notice them in someone you know, so you can decide if that person is right for you.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Jealousy, Jealousy... | Part 2

A/N: don't even have a summary for this. oc is in love with gyu and gyu is in love with another girl but both are virgin losers and gyu is a horndog who would let oc do what she wants to him just as long as he gets to cum.

Word count: 6.3

Genre: Smut, angst

Warnings: fem!reader, dry humping, degradation, dom!reader, sub!beomgyu, fleshlights, beomgyu being a perv and using oc's panties

You step into the apartment, hoping against hope that you won’t find Beomgyu in there. It’s been a few days since your fight, and you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder–ignoring his text messages, giving him one-word replies whenever he speaks to you, pretending you’re too busy to continue the marathon of whatever stupid show you were currently watching–and every time you do that, he’d look so heartbroken you have to fight for your life to not forgive him then and there. 

But fate hates you, or maybe it was by Beomgyu’s design, because as soon as you step into the living room, you see Beomgyu on the couch, fiddling with his guitar. He looks up when he hears you enter.  

You try to make a run for it, sight set on your bedroom door, but Beomgyu quickly springs up and calls your name. “Wait! I wanna talk to you.” 

“Well, I don't wanna talk to you.” You mutter, bee-lining towards your room, but Beomgyu is quicker. It only takes him a couple of large steps to put himself between you and your bedroom door. 

“Please!” He begs. “Just talk to me.” 

“I don’t want to talk right now.” You try to push past him but he won’t budge. 

“No, please, listen. I’m sorry for kissing you. I was just… I never got an A before. I didn’t think I could get an A. You know me. You know how everyone thinks that I’m so stupid. I know you think that I’m stupid. It just meant a lot to me. I was so excited to show you that I’m not always such a dumbass.” 

You sigh. "I know you're not a dumbass." 

“But I am. I’m such a dumbass and I’m so sorry for kissing you but please don’t leave me.” 

“Leave you?” You stare at him incredulously. “Beommie, I’m not going to leave you. What makes you think I would?”

“Well you haven’t been talking to me. I thought you were done with me.” He says glumly and you laugh. “No, silly. I was just giving you the silent treatment. Never heard of it?” 

"So we’re still friends?" He asks hopefully, tears in his eyes, looking like a kicked puppy. 

"Of course, we are. Don't be silly." You reach out to run a hand through his hair, and he happily leans into your touch. "Okay. Promise me we'll never stop being friends. I can't lose you."

You hesitate. This is why he can’t know you’re in love with him. It would ruin you. "I promise." . 

“Good.” He gives a big sigh of relief before he throws you a mischievous grin. “Are you going to come see me practice for the big gig today? I need my groupie.”

You smack his shoulder. “I’m not your groupie.” 

“You can be. Maybe we can sneak off and mess around backstage.” He pulls you by the hips and rests his forehead against yours but doesn't attempt to kiss you. 

"Beommie… I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?” He whines like a brat, “I won’t try to kiss you again, I promise. I'll be your good boy." 

God, the things those simple words do to you. You could never have imagined the man you’ve thirsted after for years acting so needy for you, but you can’t let this go on any longer. It fucking killed you to have him kiss you, knowing it didn’t mean the same to him as it did to you. If you keep this up, you’ll only open yourself up for more hurt. You have to protect yourself. 

"I just don't want us to get mad at each other again."

"We won't." He tries to reassure you, but you put a hand to his chest and push him away. "No, gyu. It was fun but we can’t do this anymore.” 

He grabs your hand in his and brings it to his lips to press a kiss against your palm, making your heart flutter. "Then what's going to motivate me to do good?"

"Ice cream?" You suggest, taking your hand away, and he groans. “What’s rock and roll about that?” 

You snort. “Your band name is tomorrow by together. There is nothing rock and roll about you guys.”

“Okay, ouch. Groupie invitation revoked.” 

__________________

Watching Beomgyu play his guitar is like watching magic happen. Even when he messes up or is struggling–the way he’s just so immersed and serious about his craft is so inspiring and you feel so lucky to be able to witness it. 

It was a moment like this–seeing him so lost in the music–when you first realized you’re in love with him. And now, a few years later, that love has only grown stronger. 

“He really is an idiot.” You hear a familiar voice next to you and look to the side to see Yeonjun also looking at Beomgyu. 

“What do you mean?” 

“If I had a girl look at me the way you’re looking at him, I would never let her go.” He says so casually as if he hadn’t just exposed your entire guts out to the world. 

“What–-why would you–I–” You sputter, getting even more flustered at the amused look on his face. Damn him. You take a moment to recollect yourself. “Don’t be silly, Yeonjun. We’re just friends.” 

“Are you? Then how come you won’t go out with me?”

You roll your eyes. “Have you ever considered that you just might not be my type?” 

He raises an eyebrow at you, looking at you like he doesn’t believe it for a second. “Oh, please, I’m everyone’s type. What, you don’t like tall, handsome men? Lead singers? Really talented lovers?”

You suppress the blush his last comment intended to entice in you. “I already told you. I can’t go out with a guy who will flirt more with his fans than me.” 

“Aw, are you jealous, baby? You know I can clean my act up for you.” He moves to get closer to you, his hand reaching out to wrap around you, when suddenly Beomgyu steps in between you two. “Leave her alone, Yeonjun.”

“Why? She likes it.” Yeonjun grins, sending you a wink, and you stick your tongue out at him, making him laugh. Yeonjun tries to reach out to mess up your hair in revenge, but Beomgyu intercepts him. 

“No, she doesn’t. Now, leave.” 

“Alright. Alright. Chill. I’ll leave for now but if you’re not gonna snatch her up then don’t blame me for trying.” He sends you a wink, making you blush. “See you later, doll.” 

You bite your lip, staring at the ground to try to get your blush under control. You don’t like Yeonjun like that. Well, at least not near as much as you like Beomgyu, but you still can’t help the effect he has on you. He’s just so charming, and if you hadn’t been so absolutely in love with Beomgyu, you would’ve definitely been under him long ago. 

“You really shouldn’t encourage him.” Beomgyu says irritably, “You know he’s a manwhore.”

You shrug. “I know but it’s still nice to have a man’s attention.”

“Hey, you have my attention.” He protests, and you stay silent, giving him a cryptic look. 

“What?” He narrows his eyes at you, and you shake your head, dispelling any stupid thoughts of confessing your undying love for him. “Nothing. It’s just not the same. You’re my best friend. He could be something more.” 

“Oh.” Beomgyu steps back, frowning. “Um…okay. I understand that, but do you really need it from Yeonjun? I just… he’s my bandmate, you know?”

“I know.” You say, even though you really don’t. Why should that matter? “But he’s sweet and charming–”

Beomgyu groans, cutting you off. “Please. Anyone but Yeonjun.” 

“Beomgyu—”

“Please.” 

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

You don’t know why it matters so much to him but you honestly don’t care. It’s not like you have your eyes on Yeonjun or anyone else but Beomgyu. You’re hopeless anyway. 

__________________

You and Beomgyu have easily settled back into your old routine, pre-hooking up. Like right now,  you’re cuddled up on his bed watching a movie as if nothing had ever happened–as if you’ve never touched him–as if just the feeling of his body wrapped around yours isn’t scorching your skin. 

“I can’t believe we’re watching this stupid movie again.” You groan, shoveling popcorn into your mouth. 

“Hey! I’ll have you know that Top Gun is one of the greatest pieces of cinema ever made.” He defends his favorite movie fiercely. 

“The greatest bore ever made you mean.” You grumble and he kicks your leg. “Shut up. I don’t insult your stupid horror movies when you make me watch them.” 

“You just did!” You retort, and he scoffs. “Well they’re stupid.” 

“Whatever. We’re watching The Shining after this.” 

“No we’re not!” He protests heatedly, and you answer back just as passionately. “Why not? We agreed we would watch one movie horribly picked by you, and another very superiorly picked by me.” 

He looks down at his hands, mumbling quietly. “You know those twins freak me out. I won’t be able to sleep for a week if we watch that.” 

“Aw, Beommie.” You coo, propping a finger under his chin to make him look up at you. “Well tough luck, wuss. We’re watching it.” 

“I hate you.” He whines, burying his face into your neck. 

Yup, all back to normal. You don’t want to cry because just the light brush of his breath against your skin sends your nervous system into overdrive. Nope. You’re all good. Just two friends watching a terrible movie. 

_______________________________

For a guy who just said he’s so afraid of The Shining, he won’t be able to sleep, he sure is sleeping very soundly right now. 

You glare down at him. He made you sit all through that stupid movie and he’s knocked out half-way through yours. You’d wake him up and give him a severe talking to if you weren’t so incredibly, wonderfully comfortable right now. You feel so warm and toasty with his long body wrapped around you like this, and the view you have–his face resting against your chest so close you can count his eyelashes… it was heaven for you. You suppose you’ll let him sleep for a bit more. 

Maybe you should get some shut-eye too. You’ve been so tired staying up all night studying for the test you took earlier this morning that you can’t help dozing off yourself, his embrace more comfortable than a bed of clouds to you. 

You were feeling so fucking peaceful, the weight of sleep helping to push down all your negative feelings that you don’t even pay much attention to Beomgyu’s repeated movements at first, just chalking them up to him shifting around to try to get comfortable like you. 

Sure, it was taking longer than was reasonable and he was pressing himself closer and closer to you each time, but it’s not like you were going to complain. The closer to Beomgyu, the better, right? It’s only when you feel something hard pushing up against your thigh that you realize what exactly is happening. 

"Beommie, what are you doing?" You mutter sleepily. 

He goes rigid and it takes him a while to respond. "...nothing."

You would have let it go if you didn’t still feel his hard cock against you. “Oh, really?” You challenge, moving your thigh up against him, ripping a deep groan from his throat. “Then what is this?” 

“Okay, okay, I really missed you.” He groans, wrapping his entire body around you. “And you just felt too good against me.” 

You scoff. “Have you no self control?” You ask even as you move your thigh against his cock. 

“No.” He admits, full on humping you. “Just need you.” 

“Beomgyu…” You pretend to hesitate, not wanting to let him off the hook quite so easily, not wanting him to see how much you need him too.

“Please, baby.” He begs, voice even deeper with sleep and all husky. That was your undoing. 

“Fine. You can keep going, fuck me.” You ‘finally’ relent, but the spoiled brat isn’t content with that. He tries to pull your shorts down. “Can I actually fuck you?” 

“No! I meant you can fuck my thigh.” You clarify, silencing his emerging protests with your finger in his mouth. “It’s bad enough that I’m letting you hump me like a rabid dog. You don’t get more.” 

“But this is so humiliating.” He whines through your finger before burying his face against your shoulder as he continues to vigorously dry hump you, miming fucking you the best he can. 

"I've seen you hump your body pillow before– More times than I would have liked– This is an upgrade for you, you pervert."

"You're so mean." He whines again and you snort. "I'm helping get your virgin ass off. How am I mean?"

“You’re just so mean.” He cries, grinding fervently against you. 

“And you’ve gone brain-dead again.” You laugh, “Come on, baby. Just focus on getting off. You’re almost there aren’t you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Then come on. I want to feel you cumming against my thigh. It would be really fucking sexy.” You drawl, pulling his head back so he can look at you. 

“Y-yeah?” 

“Yeah.” You trace a finger over his perfect lips, resisting the urge to kiss them. Fuck, now that you’ve had a taste, it’s like you’ve developed a craving to them. This is why you should have never let him kiss you. “You’re so pretty, wanna see you lose control.” 

“Okay–okay… if you want it.” He stares at you deeply, and you nod.  

“I really do.” You murmur, “Want you to cum all over yourself for me.” 

“You’re so fucking dirty.” He growls, pushing your legs open and pressing himself between your them so he’s humping your pussy instead of your thigh. 

“Hey! Bad boy!” You screech, stuttering when his cock brushes against your clit. Your hand goes out to grab him by the hair. “Bad b-boy.” 

“Please, please, don’t make me let go.” He pants, his hips driving into yours roughly. “I’m almost there. Gonna cum for you, pretty.” 

You hesitate at the nickname, loosening your grip. 

"No, pull my hair harder. I like it when you’re rough with me."

"Now who's the dirty one?" 

"I can't help it." He sucks in a sharp breath, "You drive me crazy." 

Well, that makes two of you.

"Fuck, Beommie." You gasp, pulling on his hair and making him lose it. The way his cock is grinding against your clit making you reach the edge yourself. If he keeps this up, you might actually…

"Oh god, yes, yes, fuck!' He shudders and can tell by the warmth soaking his pants and the way he presses his hips snug against yours that he had orgasmed. 

Oh well, so much for that. 

"Did… did you cum?" He asks once he had caught his breath a bit. 

"No." You admit awkwardly, a little breathless yourself, and he looks disappointed. "It's okay, I'll take care of it."

"But I wanna do it." He whines. “Let me.” 

"No, Beomgyu." You refuse to let him feel how wet you are right now. He can’t know how much you want him. You can’t let him touch you because if he did, you don’t know if you would ever get enough.

"Why not?” He huffs, annoyed. “Why don't you want me to touch you? Do you find me so repulsive?"

"Don't be ridiculous.” You grit out. How very Beomgyu to be this oblivious. “You’re very handsome.” 

"You clearly don't think so. Otherwise you wouldn't freak out every time I try to touch you." He snaps, “Listen, I know I’m no Yeonjun, but you don’t have to make me feel so hideous.” 

“This has nothing to do with Yeonjun or you, you ass.” You lie through your teeth. "I'm just not ready to let anyone touch me yet, okay? Unlike you I’m not just looking to get my rocks off. This actually means something to me.”

“So it’s okay to meaninglessly get someone off but it’s not okay to let them get you off too?” He calls you out on your flawed logic.

“Yes.” You double down anyway, and he opens his mouth to argue but you beat him to it, realizing you need to end this discussion before you say something stupid. “See? This is exactly why I didn’t want us to hook up again. Maybe we should–”

“No, no! Fine, I’ll back off.” He puts his hands up in the air, literally backing off. “I won’t try to touch you or kiss you or do anything to you anymore. Only you can do what you want.”

“Beomgyu–”

“Please! I really don’t want this to end. It feels good being with you.” He pleads. God, he has no idea what he’s doing to you. It’s unfair that he has this much effect on you and he doesn’t even know it. 

You really shouldn’t say yes. This is only going to end in disaster, if you say yes. 

“Fine.” 

____________

“I can’t do this. I can’t. I’m just going to go home.” Beomgyu exclaims, freaking out in his small dressing room. He and his band have been invited to play at one of the most popular spots in town. It’s a huge opportunity for them, and so naturally it comes with a great deal of pressure, which Beomgyu is definitely feeling. 

“No! You can’t!” You intercept him, holding onto him tightly so he won’t escape. “You’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this for years! You can’t just go.” 

“But I am freaking out. I am going to make a fool of myself if I go on that stage. I know I will.” He cries, looking at you with pure panic in his eyes that is actually contagious. But you fight to keep in control of yourself. You have to be the rational one for him. 

“You are going to do great–”

“You don’t know that. They will hate me. They’re boo me. Oh, god, they’re going to throw things at me. I have to go. I have to–” 

You grab his face and kiss him, shutting him up, and even though this time you’re prepared for the kiss, the feel of his lips still takes you off guard. There is nothing in the world that could prepare you for the electricity you feel whenever your lips touch, and this time when you hold onto him, it’s to keep yourself from falling to the ground.

“You won’t.” You tell him once you bring yourself to pull away from the kiss. Or once you run out of oxygen that is. “You’re the most talented musician I know. I know you’re freaking out right now but once you’re out there, you’re going to put on the greatest show those people have ever seen. I know you will, because you’re that good!” 

“You kissed me.” He mumbles, confused. 

“Well, you wouldn’t shut up.” You mutter nervously. 

“Right.” He clears his throat, and it’s silent for a few seconds before he looks at you shyly. “You really think I’m the most talented musician, you know?” 

“I know you are.” You say truthfully. 

“Even more than Yeonjun?” He asks and you roll your eyes. “Even more than Yeonjun.”

He grins widely, triumphant. “Okay. I will go out there and show those fuckers how it’s done.” He says confidently, taking a step towards the stage before he quickly doubles back. “But before I go… another kiss for good luck?”

Oh god, you’re being put through hell and you have no one to blame but yourself. 

“Don’t get used to this.” You roll your eyes, pulling him into another kiss. 

_________________

Beomgyu does amazing. Maybe it’s the stage lights, maybe it’s the sway of the music, maybe it’s the energy of the crowd, maybe it’s how happy he looks up there–but you’ve never been so in love with him. And so proud, and so amazed, and so bewitched. 

And it seems everyone around you thinks the same. The crowd absolutely went wild for him and his band. They cheered loudly after every song. They hooted and clapped whenever one of the boys interacted with them. They enthusiastically answered their questions and followed their requests. It all went so well, you just know this gig has secured them many more in the future, and you like to think that you helped in your own way, by keeping the lead guitarist from running away before the concert. 

Said guitarist grabs you and hauls you off the ground in a suffocating hug as soon as he sees you backstage. “Did you see that? Did you hear how loudly they cheered for us?” 

“So loudly I think one of my eardrums has ruptured actually.” You laugh, making a show of pulling at your ear. “You guys did so amazing, Beommie! The band absolutely blew everyone away!”

“Who cares about the band? I rocked!” He shakes you excitedly. 

“Yes, you did.” You easily give in to him fishing for compliments. He deserves it. “You were the star of the show. I heard so many people around me–”

“Oh my god.” Beomgyu gasps, staring at something behind you. 

“What?”

“It’s Haeun.”

You look back to see the devil herself. “Oh.” 

“Beommie!” She greets him enthusiastically, coming over. Beommie? That’s your nickname for him. You’re the only one who calls him that!

“You did really well.” She enthuses, making him puff his chest out like a goddamn rooster. “Y-you l-liked it?” 

“Of course, I did. I always knew you’re so talented.” 

You can’t help the snort that escapes you, and they both look at you, Beomgyu mortified and Haeun unimpressed. “Sorry, something was stuck in my throat.” You mutter, wishing the ground would swallow you up right about now.  

“Anyways,” She rolls her eyes at you then pins him with a flirty look so thick you think you could actually suffocate on it “What I was saying is that you looked really good up there.”

He gulps, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She coos, stepping closer to him and running her hand down his arm through his sleeveless shirt until she reaches his hand and pulls it up, playing with his fingers. “You really know how to finger those strings, huh? I wonder if the guitar is the only thing you can play?”

Once again, you can’t keep in the noise of disgust that came from deep within you, but this time neither Beomgyu nor her pay any attention to you. 

“Uh—well—I–” He stutters dumbly. Typical.

“Why don’t you and the band come to the party I am hosting Friday? Maybe you can show me those moves up close?” She winks at him. 

“Hell y-yeah. I’ll be there.” He chokes out and she smiles widely. “Great. See you then.” She leans in to press a kiss to his cheek and you almost reach out to scratch her eyes out but you contain yourself. 

She gives you one last snobby look before throwing her hair back and walking off. Beomgyu stares after her, dazed. "Am I crazy or did she just flirt with me?" 

“Come on, Beomgyu, apes are more subtle than her.” You grumble, the fire of jealousy consuming your insides. “Anyways, you know she’s only doing this because you’re becoming successful, right? She always treated you as a loser before, never giving you the time of day, but now suddenly that you gain a shred of popularity, she starts liking you?" 

"Oh." He pauses for a second, and you reach out to pat his back, wishing to comfort him, when he breaks into a huge grin. “So what you’re saying is that I’m popular and she likes me? Awesome!” 

“Ugh.” You storm away, followed behind by a confused Beomgyu.

________________

“Since I did really well today, don’t I deserve a reward?” Beomgyu grabs you as soon as you’re back at your apartment, pulling you flush against him and trying to kiss you.

Now, you would have loved to give in. That kiss you shared earlier still tingles at your lips, but not after what he did. The nerve of him after slobbering all over another woman in front of you!

“Wait until the party, maybe she’ll give you your reward.” You push him away, disgusted at the thought of it. But Beomgyu continues proving to you why he easily wins the title of least aware person in the entire universe. “But I want my reward now.” 

“God, Beomgyu, you really know how to turn a girl on.” You growl, shoving him out of your way. “Go to sleep.” 

"What's your problem?" You hear him ask before you slam the door shut. 

You rip your clothes off–band merch you wore to support the idiot–and put on a long shirt. Which as soon as you settle under the covers, you discover actually belongs to him, his scent all over it and drowning you in unwanted feelings. 

You don’t care that she came on to him. You don’t care that she invited him to her party. You don’t care that he’ll probably go and she’ll make a move on him and he’ll fall deeper in love with her and she’ll have him all wrapped around her finger and–

Okay, you care. You care too much. You can’t handle the thought of it any longer, but you can’t reveal your real feelings. It will be the end of you. No, you have to bottle it all down. 

‘You can’t let it show.’ You think to yourself as you curl into a ball, shutting out the outside world and even your own memories, trying to just be claimed by sleep. 

But the world isn’t that fair, and through your curled form you can hear the sound of Beomgyu moaning out. You can’t quite hear what he’s saying but you’ve heard him enough times to know exactly what he’s doing. 

You bet he’s thinking of her. You bet he’s imagining fingering her. You can’t allow that. Not while you’re lying here breaking over him.

You throw the covers off you and storm to his room, bursting the door open. 

“Hey!” He cries out, trying to cover his junk. 

You roll your eyes. “It’s just me. No need to freak out.” 

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard you from my room.” You say plainly. “You weren't exactly subtle. Now let me see.”

“But I thought you–”

“Do you want it or not?”

He only hesitates for a second, the whore, before he throws the blanket away.  You roll your eyes, getting onto the bed and grabbing his dick, pumping it in your hand. He immediately flops back, relaxing into your touch. “Oh god, I needed this.”

"Yeah? Got all horny from the way everyone was eyeing you up? You know you really gave Yeonjun a run for his money with how slutty you were acting." You mutter bitterly. Yes, you enjoyed the show, but it wasn’t only Haeun eyeing him up. 

Beomgyu glares at you. "Can we not talk about him while you're fisting my cock?" 

“Whatever.” You brush him off, focused on something else right now. "So, thinking of fucking any of your new fans?"

“Hmmm.” He mumbles, and you can see from the way his eyes have gone all glazed that he’s not paying attention. “You. I really wanna fuck you.” He thrusts into your hand, whining. 

"You wish." 

"I really do." He breathes out, and your own breath stutters. Man, this is dangerous but you can’t stop. You speed up your movement, making Beomgyu wince. 

“Wait, dry, dry, hurts.” Beomgyu whines at the chafing feeling, and you almost feel bad for him if it weren’t for his next words. “Why don’t you put it in your mouth to get it wet?” 

You snort, seeing right through him. “You’re not slick, gyu.”

“But it really is dry.” He pouts, making a show of expressing his pain as you continue to jerk him off, and you sigh, removing your hand. “Where is your lube?” 

“In your mouth.” He replies like a smartass and you pin him down with a glare. “I can always stop, you know?”

“Okay, okay, it’s in the drawer.” He gives up, pointing to his bedside cabinet, and you quickly look away from his adorable pout, knowing if you look at it too long you’d just give him everything he wants. 

“What the fuck is this?” You pause in your tracks once you open up the drawer.

“What?” He asks, a confused look on his face that quickly turns to horror once he sees what you’ve fished out of the drawer. 

You hold up a fleshlight and a pair of panties silently, waiting for him to explain. Panties that you know too well, your own fucking panties in fact. 

“I can explain.”

“Yes, please. Explain to me how you’re such a massive pervert who steals his best friend’s panties so he can jerk off with them.” 

“You’re not just my best friend.” He protests lamely and your stupid heart swells up against your best efforts, only for him to smash it to pieces again. “We mess around and you get me so horny, I can't help but imagine what you'd feel like. But I know you don't want that so I had to get creative."

Well, it’s still a compliment, right? He’s jerking off with your panties, not hers. Then again, you’re his roommate and he has easier access to your underwear. 

You throw the items at him. “Show me what you do with them.”

"But I don't wanna… I want you." He whimpers, leaning towards you and trying to kiss you. 

"Tough luck.” You hiss, pushing him away. “I want to see." 

He groans, grabbing the lube and squirting a generous amount onto the toy before pushing it in with his fingers… in and out, in and out. 

Okay, that bitch may have had a point about his fingers. 

"Get to it already." You snap, mouth dry. 

"I'm just getting it ready, sheesh." He mutters, finally lining the toy up with his cock before moving it down his length. 

"Oh…" He sighs, head falling back as the toy takes his cock. 

"Feels good?" You whisper, and he nods, pulling the toy off with a wet sound, taking a second to catch his breath before pushing it down again. 

"God, you're pathetic." You mutter, more to yourself than to him. You're so fucking turned on right now, you’re sure you’re more wet than that fucking toy. "Fucking a plastic pussy because you can't get laid?"

"You wanna volunteer to f-fuck me instead?" He grits out but it sounds more like a moan with how much he's struggling to not succumb to the pleasure. 

“Is that what you think about when you're fucking yourself?" You ask and he hesitates, the toy slipping off his cock. 

God, his cock looked so good–so hard and glistening and thick. You wanna throw that stupid toy away and take him instead… but you can't. So you grab the hand he has holding the toy and make him move it to his cock again. 

He gasps as you push it back down. “Ah…y-yeah. Think about fucking you all the time.” 

It takes everything in you not to put your hand between your legs and rub yourself off right now. “And what do you do with the panties?” 

He freezes, a deep blush dusting his cheeks. “I don’t wanna say.” 

Now that just makes you want to know all the more. “You know I can always leave?” You threaten and he groans, his hips bucking into the toy. “Stop saying that. It’s not fair.” 

“Show me.” You insist and he whimpers, not looking at you as he grabs the panties with his free hand and pulls them towards his face, taking a whiff off them. 

“Oh my god, you freak.” You gasp, your thighs pressing together at the obscene sight. 

“No, please–”

“I didn't say you could stop.” You snap when he drops his hand and stops fucking his fleshlight. 

He whimpers, bringing the cloth back to his face, his tongue peeking out to lick against the fabric. 

“Fuck, you’re disgusting.” 

He whines again, shaking his head. “Just wanna taste you.” 

You cock your head to the side curiously. “You wanna taste me?”

“Uh-huh.” He nods dumbly, his eyes almost rolling to the back of his head at the thought of it. Well, who are you to deny him something he wants this badly?

You put your hand down your shorts, nearly making him choke as he watches you rub your soaking pussy a little bit to coat your fingers before bringing them out and holding them for him to see. You spread your fingers apart, showing him the strings of arousal between them. “You want this?” 

He drops the panties and sticks his tongue out like a dog begging for a treat, his hips never ceasing their rutting into his toy, the sticky sound of his cock pushing in and out ringing against your ears.  “Please…please…” 

“Okay, quit drooling.” You mutter in disgust at the saliva falling onto the sheets below, and move your hand towards him. As soon as your fingers are within reach, he takes them fully into his touch, moaning out at the taste. 

He sucks them off, his tongue licking up any juices in between your fingers until there is none left. Then he pants, “More…sit on my face.” 

You pull your hand away, your pussy quivering at the thought but you don’t let it show. “No way. You don’t deserve it.” 

“Why not? I’ve been good. Haven’t I been good?” 

‘Not when you’re thirsting over her.’ You think to yourself bitterly. 

“Please.” 

“I said no.” You shut him down, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun of your own.  Finally giving into the temptation, you slip a hand into your shorts as you watch him continue to fuck his toy.

Beomgyu groans out loud. “Oh, come on. Now you’re just teasing me.” 

“How am I teasing you?” You grin, rubbing your clit as you watch him lose it over you. Yeah, this is why you continue to do this. This will be your undoing. 

“You know how much I wanna touch you. Just come on up and sit on my face.”

“No.” 

“Please. I can make you feel better than your fingers can. Just give me a chance.” 

“Oh please, you’re a virgin, Beomgyu. I know you have no experience. I’m better off fucking myself.” You laugh at him. 

“Yes, I do. Look at this.” He leans forward, pressing his fleshlight against the bed and fucking into it. 

“Is that how you imagine fucking me?” 

“Yeah–you always take it so well.” 

Fuck, he really knows how to get you going. 

You shake your head. “Well I’m not a plastic toy for you to hammer your dick into. I need to feel pleasure too.”

“Then teach me.” He cries out desperately. “You can make me do whatever you want. I won’t say no.” 

“Are you whoring yourself out to me?” 

“Yes. I’m your whore.” He agrees, his dick thrusting wildly into his toy, and you in turn pushing your fingers into yourself and matching his pace, pretending he’s fucking you. “Just please do something. I’m going to burst.” 

“But I want you to burst, baby.” You lean closer to him, brushing your nose against his. “I like how pathetic you look cumming on yourself or in a pocket pussy. You’re such a fucking loser.” 

He’s nearly gasping at this point. “Come on, please. Wouldn’t having my cock inside you feel so much better than your fingers? Just pin me down and use me the way you like. I don’t mind.” 

He’s driving you fucking crazy. You’re one second away from breaking. And maybe you would have, if he hadn’t kept talking. 

“Just need to feel a real pussy.” 

How does he always do this? He always ruins it for himself, always reminds you that you’re just a pair of tits and a warm pussy for him. Not who he really wants, just what’s available. 

You sigh heavily, taking your fingers away from your pussy. “I’m getting bored. If you don’t blow your load now, then you can do it by yourself.” 

“No, no. I can do it. I’m a good boy.”

“Yeah? Are you a good, pretty slut who cums on command?” You mock him, but he doesn’t care. He wants it too bad. 

“Yeah. Just–just give me a kiss.” He pleads, and seeing your face, he quickly adds. “Just a kiss and I’ll empty my balls out for you.” 

Well, it’s not like this would be the most egregious mistake you’ve ever made. You’ve already kissed him. Might as well get this over with and go back to your bed so you can wallow in how you’re nothing but a warm body to him. 

“Fine.” You press your lips against his and he immediately opens his mouth, his tongue licking your lips, trying to push inside. You let him, wrapping your lips around his tongue and sucking on it before brushing against it with your own tongue. Meanwhile, you sneak your hand between you, taking control of the fleshlight and pumping it rapidly over his sensitive cock, not even giving him a chance.

“Do it then. Now.” You demand, your lips still connected together with a thick string of saliva. “Oh god, oh my god, cumming, cumming baby.” 

He kisses you again, muffling the noises of his climax against your mouth, and you take every bit of it like you can never get enough. 

But eventually he pulls back, his high over and not needing you anymore. 

“God, that was crazy.” He says at last. 

“Yeah. Learned a lot about you and what you like to do behind closed doors.” You mutter, and his eyes widen. 

“Listen, it’s not–”

“It’s not what I think, I know. You’re just a pervert who needed some help getting off. I get it. But next time you take one of my panties, I’m breaking your arms.” 

____________________________

A/N: well I think there is one more chapter or at most two left of this series. kind of a short one. what are we thinking so far? always open to hear ideas. i just thought of an ending but i'd love to hear from you guys. maybe i'll be inspired

Taglist: @wonwooz1 @yaorzu-blog @allylikesdabee @rkivezzs @malieno @leviathanlee26 @yomomas-stuff @kurisaiyunobara @girlwholovekpop

this was just a provisional taglist as i don't usually do one. it's just a few people have specifically asked to be tagged so there you go

[bunnie-the-idiot]

a list of verified campaigns for palestine to donate to!

edit for clarification: to find these campaigns, i check the asker's blog for signs that make the campaigns seem legit (e.g., placements on other vetted campaign lists, videos from palestine that consistently show the same people or surroundings, tags or reblogs from other users who have been known to vet campaigns like 90-ghost for example). i am one person and at the time i first posted this, i had to look through a pretty long list of people. it is possible that i could have made mistakes. that being said: if you see one on here, check it out, and it seems fishy/isn't actually vetted, please tell me (preferably through asks or messages since that's what i'm most likely to check). it's horrible that we have to worry about people taking advantage of a situation like this, and i want to be on the side of those who are in need instead of others with ill-intent.

to everyone who sent me an ask asking for me to boost their campaign: i wish the best of luck to all of you. i'm sorry that all of this is happening to you in the first place, and i hope that you can bring yourself and your loved ones to the safety you deserve. <3 if your campaign has been vetted but i missed it after you contacted me, please let me know and i'll edit this post to include your campaign!

@helpfamily : Donate to Please Save What's Left of My Family, organized by Marleen TipuHello my dears, I hope you are well. Please help me.

I, Mahmoud Baalou, have gon… Marleen Tipu needs your support for Please Save What'sgofundme.com

@ahmedalnabeeh11 : Donate to Help Ahmed, Abedelrahman, and family Escape war, organized by Ziad Okasha

Hello everyone,

My name is Ziad Okasha, and I'm from Gaza,… Ziad Okasha needs your support for Help Ahmed, Abedelrahman, andgofundme.com

@mahaibrahim12 : https://gofund.me/2adde3d1

@fahedshehab-new : Donate to Help Sahar and Her Family to Evacuate Gaza, organized by Ahmed ShamiaMy name is Sahar Shehab. I am 14 years old from Gaza .

I ask you for urgent h… Ahmed Shamia needs your support for Help Sahar and Her Familgofundme.com

@noor-alanqar : Donate to Rebuilding Live: A Mother's Plea for Hope and Safety in Gaza, organized by Nour AlanqarHello,

I'm Nour Alanqar, and reaching out to you during a… Nour Alanqar needs your support for Rebuilding Live: A Mother's Plea for Hopegofundme.com

@amira-world : Donate to Amira's Story: Between Hope and Resilience - A Call for Soli, organized by Abdallah AlanqarWhen sorrow and difficulties strike hard, hope becomes the lo… Abdallah Alanqar needs your support for Amira's Story: Between Hope and Resilgofundme.com

@save-mohammedd-family : Donate to Help Mohamed's children escape from the Gaza war to Safety, organized by Ahmed AwadHello, my name is Ahmed, and this is the story of my friend’s fa… Ahmed Awad needs your support for Help Mohamed's children escape from the gofundme.com

@atalah-mohammed : Donate to Bone Grafting Operation for Muhammad & House Reconstruction, organized by Haruka AokiHello kind friends and dear community,

My name is Haruka A… Haruka Aoki needs your support for Bone Grafting Operation for Muhammad & Hogofundme.com

@saveyouseffamily : Donate to Help Yousef&Family Escape From War&Secure Treatment for son, organized by Yosef El-habil

*Introduction:*

Hello everyone,

I'm Youssef Al-Habeel… Yosef El-habil needs your support for Help Yousef&Family Escape From War&Secugofundme.com

@fadi-018 : Donate to Let’s help Fady’s family survive., organized by Ibrahim  AlnunuHello everyone!

I am Muhammed from Gaza, married with one child, and my wife is … Ibrahim  Alnunu needs your support for Let’s help Fadygofundme.com

@children-gaza : Donate to Help my family to evacuate from gaza and rebuild t, organized by Ahmed BaloushaHello, World,

I am Ahmad, a Palestinian from Gaza City and a fat… Ahmed Balousha needs your support for Help my family to evacuate from gofundme.com

@ahmedabuyamin : Donate to Helping Ahmed's Family: Escaping War to a New Life, organized by Abdallah AlanqarHello,,

I'm Abdallah Alanqar, originally from Palestine but cu… Abdallah Alanqar needs your support for Helping Ahmed's Family: Escapinggofundme.com

@yazanfamily : Donate to Save My Family from the War Nightmare in Gaza, organized by Mohammed AlanqarHello,

I am Mohammad Taysir, 34 years old, a Palestinian living in Gaz… Mohammed Alanqar needs your support for Save My Family from the Wargofundme.com

@amalashour : Donate to Help me get out of Gaza for my baby girl, organized by Amal AshourHello, I am Amal Ashour. I live in Gaza. I am 26 years old Before the war, I was … Amal Ashour needs your support for Help me get out of Gazgofundme.com

@shahednhall : Donate to Help Shahd in Gaza!, organized by Shahed MuhammadHave you ever experienced seeing your dream broken in front of your eyes and not being able to do … Shahed Muhammad needs your support for Hgofundme.com

@samerpal : Donate to Trapped Family in Gaza Appeals for Help to Survive, organized by Nimr AburassPlease note that the conversion rate is 1 USD =10 SEK, 10$ = 100 SEK,

… Nimr Aburass needs your support for Trapped Family in Gaza Appeals fgofundme.com

@ahmed4palestine : Donate to Save Ahmed and His Family in Gaza, organized by Vanesa ArguetaHi, there. My name is Vanesa Argueta and I'm from New York. I'm currently fundraising… Vanesa Argueta needs your support for Save Ahmed and gofundme.com

@burningnightgiver : https://gofund.me/8a0cbfb0

@save-ibrahim-children : https://www.gofundme.com/f/save-ibrahim-and-his-children?attribution_id=sl:a64a9567-9804-43d6-a131-a12b13a73205&lang=en_US&utm_campaign=fp_sharesheet&utm_medium=customer&utm_source=copy_link

@abood-family-gaza : https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-my-family-to-evacuate-and-rebuild-our-home?utm_campaign=p_nacp+share-sheet&utm_medium=copy_link&utm_source=customer

@malakabed : https://www.gofundme.com/f/save-malaks-dreams-and-family-from-gaza?attribution_id=sl:62f41902-f286-443d-9471-2aaa646125c2&utm_campaign=man_sharesheet_ft&utm_medium=customer&utm_source=copy_link

@ahmedkhabil : http://gofund.me/2adde3d1

@mohammedalanqer : https://gofund.me/afbb2b7f

@karamalmadhoun0 : https://www.gofundme.com/f/karamsaid

@talafamily : https://www.tumblr.com/talafamily

@majedgaza1 : https://www.gofundme.com/f/rebuilding-hope-a-gaza-family-in-need-of-your-help

@eslamfamily1 : https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-eslam-save-her-family?member=35853319&sharetype=teams&utm_campaign=natman_sharesheet_dash&utm_medium=customer&utm_source=copy_link

@mohammedmashnifam: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-me-and-my-little-family-evacuate-gaza-and-survive?attribution_id=sl:bb06c76d-95f0-4aee-a1ab-a8a9e3a1e243&lang=en_FI&utm_campaign=fp_sharesheet&utm_medium=customer&utm_source=whatsapp

@kenzish5: https://www.gofundme.com/f/urgent-help-needed-a-journey-from-gaza-to-safety

@malak4ayman: https://gofund.me/b95ef740

FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE ❤️

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

hello!!! hope you’re doing great, I kinda wanna ask about Thomas x Sister Shelby if you do that ? And if you do I’m thinking she’d be smart, has a very quick tongue and she wants to get out of the Shelby business to marry the love of her life (alfie😝😍) so she fakes her death and ofc everyone is distraught and angry than after a few years Thomas sees alfie at his home and than comes his sister who he thought had died and he berates her than she says something like you’re a worse person than me always killing for money like he can’t live without a war. Also I am in the mood for a very angst ending

A/N: Hello my love! How are you doing? I am so so sorry that this has taken forever. Truthfully, I had no clue how to do this. I thought about this long an hard, and though some things I switched up, I hope you enjoy this. I feel like this got me to stretch my writing muscles, and it was really fun. Let me know what you think darling!

Run Away With Me Darling

Alfie Solomons x Fem! Reader; 3.8k words; fluff, angst

Warnings: language, contentious family relationships, arranged marriage???

It started innocently enough.

You bringing tea and biscuits to meeting rooms where the men started their schemes. Listening and taking notes alongside your ever watchful Aunt Polly. Sneaking glances at the big brute in the chair across from your big brothers.

“Thank you treacle. Yeah that’s real kind of you.”

That brute is the only man that would say thank you for the tea you bring by. And when you go to pour more for him, he’s the only man who says, “No need for that darling. Grown men can pour their own tea yeah?”

It wasn’t meant to be anything more than professional. But you should’ve known. Known from that first encounter outside those Shelby walls… you and Mr. Solomons shared a single soul… and heaven nor hell could keep you from each other’s grasp.

It was hot. London is not a tropical city by any means. But the sheer amount of bodies, activity, and warm rain, had transformed the city into a sauna. The wisps of your hair along your neck and forehead are plastered to your body. Rivulets of sweat sneak down your chest. The heat could only be described as oppressive. You were counting down the steps till you could go home.

On the one hand… it was strange having a home all to yourself. Truthfully, it was the Shelby homestead in London, where the family would stay when business needed attending to. However, when they all left, you stayed. Carrying delicate messages. Keeping a close pulse on the going’s on of the city. And perhaps most importantly… remaining a pretty show pony for the Shelby family.

You hated to admit it. But you were desperately jealous of Ada. She had the guts to sneak past Arthur, Tommy, and John. She had the foresight to marry her true love before Tommy could marry her off to the highest bidder. You had no such luck. No childhood love. No sweetheart to campaign for. The boys had made sure of it. Despite Ada and your protests, and Polly’s discrete ploys; Tommy had decided. The sweet, pure, and innocent youngest Shelby girl will be auctioned off to the richest and most lucrative partner for the Shelby Company. And she will remain pretty and docile. A prize.

The mere thought made your stomach twist and churn and burn.

You loved them. Your family. More than most love their family. But you could barely breathe under their watch. Even in another city you felt the reach of their eyes. Felt the whisperings of potential matches for your hand and womb. The sweat on your brow burned your eyes. Taking place of the unshed tears you long abandoned.

All you longed for was cold water. A cool bath. Anything to scrub off the sweat and dirt and exhaustion. However, shade covered your front door, casting a shadow over the threshold.

“Sweetheart! Been waiting a bit for you!”

No matter where you see Mr. Solomons, he seems to take up all the space. You don’t know how he is able to stand the heat, with his coat and hat and bushy beard. But he looks unfettered. Cool even. You finally felt the kiss of the breeze on your neck as you approached.

“Mr. Solomons. How can I help you?”

“You going to invite me in like a good girl?”

“I’m not in the business of inviting strange men into my home.”

“You think me strange?”

“Oh Mr. Solomons you are the strangest man I’ve ever met.”

“Makes you a little excited though don’t it? A hint of danger yeah? Big brute standing at your door.”

You stuck your chin out, staring directly into his stormy eyes. “I’m not afraid of you Mr. Solomons.”

His mouth quirks up in the corner. A twinkle in his eyes, and your breath hitched as he leaned into your space, “Oh I know sweet. You ain’t like the others ain’t ya? I saw it… the first time I laid eyes on you I knew you were different. Those boys… cold blooded little snakes… you… nah… there’s a flame in you treacle…and I look forward to see you set things aflame.”

Before you could respond in any way, he leaned away, smiling at your response. He pulled out an envelope from his coat and handed it to you, “Contract and information for your devious brother my sweet. Don’t worry, put a little something in there for you too for your trouble.”

You snatched the envelope from his hand. Unsure of how to respond to his… behavior. His rumbling laugh set a shiver down your spine, but you pushed it down as you appraised him, “This seems below your job description… don’t you have messenger boys?”

He further smirked, “I hope you’ll forgive me, that I want to keep you to myself.”

“I’m not a kept girl.”

“That you are not. Just have to inform your brothers of the fact don’t you?”

Hot shame rose in your cheeks. The envelope in your hands crinkling sharply. You felt the cool brush of gold rings on your cheek, “I have a standing dinner every Thursday evening. Let it be our little secret, hmm?”

Before you could react, a coarse kiss is pressed to your knuckles. As he started walking away, you called out, “And if I don’t show up? What then?”

He turned, with a boyish smile, “You’re not a kept woman treacle. Not my business. I’ll just send my messenger boys in my place.”

That was a year ago. Things were so simple then. Secret dinners. Secret mornings. Secret dalliances and outings around town. And when the family came to town, you placed that mask back on. Sweet, innocent, and docile Shelby girl. Ready at the beck and call of her family. And when they left, you ran right into the arms of Alfie. Because where it all started as something to feel disobedient, it grew into something deeper and more ancient. You felt your soul intertwine with his, as if it was always searching for him. In the evenings when he whispered his love for you and kept you close, you had never felt safer. Never felt more alive.

But dreams are not forever. Sooner or later the bubble must pop.

“You’ll need to come back to Birmingham dearest.”

“For how long?”

Everyone looked up at Tommy. Tommy didn’t even look up from his dinner plate, “Permanently. I’ve got a husband for you.”

Your fork dropped. Your heart stopped beating.

You faintly hear Aunt Polly call your name.

“Husband?” You whispered.

Tommy sighed, “That is what I said. High time you married, you’re old enough. Mr. Gorman has multiple factories both here and in the states, and his son is set to inherit them all. It’s a good match, it’ll be very beneficial to the company.”

“Tommy I don’t even know him.”

“You have your entire life to get to know him. Now finish your dinner.”

“So you just decided is that it? You just decided to that I’d belong to some man? Tell me Tommy… how much did you sell me off for? How much is my womb worth?”

“Watch your mouth!” Polly hissed, with Arthur wincing at the cutting words.

“I’m not going.” You stood from your chair. Preparing for battle.

“It’s not up for discussion.”

“I’m not going! You cannot make me!”

Tommy rose from his seat, John putting his head in his hands with Arthur knocking back a drink. Low. Deadly. Tommy always could command a room with his voice. Cold finger pointing at you like a deadly weapon. “You will do as you’re told. This is not about you. This is about the family. In a week, I will come fetch you. I will drag you back to Birmingham if I have to. And you will marry the young Mr. Gorman, and you will have as many of his fucking babies as he chooses. You will be rich. You will be safe. And you will be set. I am not about to argue with a child.”

You felt the tears well up in your eyes. Sorrow. Mourning. Hatred. “I hate you Thomas Shelby. I hate you.”

“You will get over it.”

You ran to your room. Weeping the rest of the night.

Because how can your body and name be given to a man, when your heart and soul belonged to another?

They left the next morning. Arthur knocking on your door to announce the departure, and trying to convince you, “He’s a good lad darling. Trust Tommy alright? Wouldn’t let nothing bad happen to ya, even though it seems like right shit. Don’t be too angry at us. We’ll all still be close. And anyway… it’s what’s good for the family.”

You didn’t look at him. Not even a hum of acknowledgment when he kissed your hair tenderly. A regretful sigh leaves his body as Arthur walked away, taking one last look at your quivering body on your maiden bed. Arthur always had a soft spot for you. Always defensive for you unlike your other siblings. He had tried in vain to get Tommy to rethink the arrangement. You didn't need to get married. The company didn't need such an alliance. They'd get by as they always have. But Tommy's sights were set much higher. He wanted that name of honor. And to get it, he was willing to play by the rules of old money. Tommy had convinced Arthur enough. Enough that you'd eventually forgive them all.

The orange sky illuminated your bedroom in a bloody hue. Your throat dry and head hot and pounding. The creaking and settling of the house had become a steady ring in your ears, you didn't even hear the bedroom door open.

"Treacle. What are you doing? Eden said you haven't left since last night. You ill?"

Maids hear everything, you think bitterly. But you couldn't be too cross with Eden. Not really.

"He's done it Alfie."

Alfie toed off his boots after the hat and coat. Sinking into the too ornate duvet. "Who treacle? What happened?"

You faced him, deep creases of the duvet threads divide your hot wet cheeks. Lashes clumped together and soaked. "Tommy... he... he finally did it. He's married me off. In a weeks time I'm to belong to some... Mr. Gorman. His father owns factories, and I suppose that's enough for my bride price."

You feel your body being gently tugged up and into Alfie’s embrace. Despite any protest from you about how it may affect his back, he shushes you instantly, “Now now my little dove. Nah you ain’t going back to Birmingham. You ain’t getting married to some prick. Nah you’re staying here with ol’ Alfie.”

You force your face under his chin, letting his unkempt beard absorb your sobs, “No Alfie it’s true! Tommy told me yesterday at dinner! He… he’s taking me away Alfie! I hate him. I hate him so much. I don’t want to marry some man I don’t even know!”

“I already told you darling, you’re not going to! It’s not happening.”

You push his shoulder, “You’re not listening to me! Tommy said-“

“I don’t give a shit what Tommy said! You’re not marrying the shit because you’re marrying me!”

Like an unpracticed magician, he pulled out a gorgeous diamond and sapphire ring. Its glimmer and fractals made it look as endless as the night sky. You felt the breath in your lungs catch, anger and fear simmering down and cooling. You dared not touch something to precious, “Alfie Solomons…”

“Was my mother’s. Gave it to me when I came back from the war. On her death bed. Made me swear that I wouldn’t give it up for any pretty girl on the street. Had to give it to the one.”

You struggled to meet his gaze, “And I-“

“The one treacle. If you’ll have me.”

He shifted you in his lap, fully facing him, “Now… I had a whole event planned out. Garden stroll. Drinks. Music playing. And I know I’m a sorry old monster and you have loads of suitor-“

“Alfie-“

“But I swear on my life treacle, you’ll never want for anything. You will have freedom to do whatever you would hope to do. We’ll go anywhere. I’ll love you till the stars go out-“

“Alfie! Yes! Yes yes yes! I’ll marry you! You silly old man!”

You pushed him back and kissed him fiercely. With all the passion you had been hiding from your family for years. Until the acidic burn of reality came down, “But what about Tommy? Alfie you hate each other, he’ll never let me go.”

Rough hands running up and down your thighs, gazing in awe at the fiery halo surrounding you. “I was willing to go in and threaten blessing or death.”

“I won’t have you put in danger for love. This isn’t Shakespeare.”

With a laugh and kiss to your fingertips he whispers, “You got any ideas? I’m all ears.”

You try to think, but kept coming across a wall. Any option you thought of ended in bloodshed. You fell into the bed next to Alfie, curling into his chest, “I wish we could just run away.”

His arms tighten around you, “What if we did?”

It would happen three days before Tommy would come to fetch you. You dismissed Eden with an oath to secrecy, and for four days you played the part of excited bride to be. Purchasing things for a new marital home, a wedding dress and new wardrobe. Who cares if the detail of the lucky husband was slightly off?

Whenever your family called, you lied happily through your smiling teeth. At first you felt a twinge of guilt. But in the end, they stood by as your brothers sold you off. They lost the right to the truth. They hated Alfie, said as much any time they came to the house. They would never understand. They would never allow it. But this was your life. And you would be damned before you were cleaved from your beloved.

The men from the distillery made regular visits to the house in the middle of the night, picking up your things to take to Margate, dropping off love letters and updates from Alfie. With each passing day, your heart became lighter. The binds lessening. Freedom was right on your tongue.

Three days before Tommy, Arthur, and John are to pick you up, the horrific news explodes through Birmingham. The Shelby home in London: set ablaze. No survivors. The beautiful bride, burned alongside her wedding dress hanging in the window. The youngest Shelby girl, an angel amongst demons, taken too soon from the earth from a horrific accident. The fire so destructive, not even a body is there for a proper burial. Just ash and a memory of that sweet face. The funeral is horrible. Wailing and weeping from all of Birmingham. Aunt Polly could barely keep it together, blaming Tommy for it all. Even business acquaintances from London and beyond come to pay their respects. The most shocking visitor, was Mr. Solomons, who paid for the funeral itself, “I’m sorry Tommy for your loss. I really am. She was a sweet girl. But… she’s in a better place I’m sure.”

And what a better place that is. White washed home right on the beach, windows open at all times, with the sea breeze billowing pristine gossamer curtains in the wind. You spend your days reading and writing to your heart’s content, strolling the beach, playing with Cyril like a child. As Alfie settles affairs in Camden during the week, he visits during the weekend, serving and worshipping you like a goddess. He never gave you information about the family. You didn’t want it. That was your old life. A you that you couldn’t recognize. Here, in this life, you were free. Free to speak. Free to argue and give your mind.

After a month, Alfie permanently moves to Margate. Home. Retired from the gangster life with enough money to live comfortably for the rest of his life, with more than enough to comfort when he’s gone.

And the years pass blissfully. Just how it was in the beginning. Kisses and dancing and laughter and arguing and love and joy. 3 years of absolute heaven, you had nearly forgotten how it all was almost taken from you.

But the past does have a way of rearing its ugly head doesn’t it?

It’s the dawn of summer. The final kisses of spring bringing crisp clean air through your marital home. Alfie had never felt better. The pain in his body had long left him, only flaring during the coldest evenings. The dark circles under his eyes have dissolved. His face and body, fuller, firmer with the glowing health of a man at peace who works for life not death. You were upstairs, searching for the a particular spool of thread you had been working with for a blanket you had spent days on. But it needed to be done soon. Alfie shifted through the records you both had been collecting. Symphonies had become his special interest in the recent months, and he was looking for a particular composition that he felt would make your heart sing.

The heavy knock on the door sent the hair on his neck stand at attention.

Only one demon knocked like that.

His eyes shifted to the stairs. He could still hear you moving things around. Searching tirelessly for that spool. You’d be missing for a couple minutes. Enough to rebuke the vile creature from the door without your discovery.

With a deep breath, Alfie tries to remember the armor of his past. The Mad Baker. Just as another round of knocks was about to come, Alfie opened roughly, “Tommy! What are you doing here? Gates of hell need their master don’t they?”

He looked thinner than normal. It’s been years since the men had seen each other, but the difference was still shocking. Those icey blue eyes even more haunting than they were at the funeral. Gaunt cheeks and pale skin made him look like a living corpse. A flicker of a flame winked behind those eyes. Hope for another fight. Something to set him aflame. “Hello Alfie. Enjoying retirement?”

“Yeah actually I am so whatever you have up your sleeve I want no part in it so if you’ll just fuck off.”

Before Alfie could slam the door, Tommy stuck his foot in the door, “Not that simple Alfie. Worlds gone to shit and it needs Solomons to set it to right.”

“Your world not mine. Now get out.”

“I’m not going to leave until you let me in Alfie.”

Your angelic voice danced on the breeze down to the front door, “I found it! Alfie you would not believe where it was! I swear I’m losing my mind.”

Tommy’s face some how went paler. As if he heard Satan’s whisper of condemnation. Alfie tried to push the door closed, but with the strength of a mad man Tommy pushed past the threshold.

Tommy almost fainted.

This must be hell.

He must have died.

It’s the only rational idea.

God chose to lock him in the home of his biggest agitation, with the ghost of his dead baby sister.

But this couldn’t be your ghost. Your swollen belly proves this.

“Holy shit.” You drop the tea cup in your hands when you see Tommy. Tommy who wasn’t supposed to be here. Tommy who saw you buried and dead.

Alfie rushes in, pulling you behind his broad frame. Through his linen shirt, you feel the ragged breath and hammering heart of your husband. You feel faint. “Tommy… you need to leave right now.”

“You paid for the funeral.”

“Tommy we can do this later but you need to get out right now. I’m asking nicely.”

“You knew she was alive… you knew.”

“She is very delicate right now she does not need any excitement.”

“You fucking made her delicate! You compromised her you fucking bastard!”

You cried out as Tommy lunged for your husband, “Stop it Tommy! Enough! Get out of my house!”

Tommy stumbled, pointing at you, “You… you’re fucking sick. You’re demented! You caused Polly a near heart attack. You are disgusting!”

You push past Alfie, who is left watching, “I’m disgusting! You sold me off to some man. And for what? To get people to see you as a big man? Guess what Tommy, you will NEVER be good enough for them! They’ll always see people like us as trash! But you don’t care. Anything to get ahead right?! You’ll stoop as low as you need to ahead.”

Tommy laughed bitterly, holding back the urge to spit, “And what about you yeah? So spoiled that you throw the biggest tantrum of the century. Whore yourself out to the Mad Baker, and get knocked up with his bastard.”

“I’d stop talking if I were you Tommy.”, Alfie snarled darkly. Fists curling in. Like a wolf ready to devour.

“I’d rather be his whore than be a part of any family of yours. You can’t leave well enough alone. Murdering and slaughtering for some honor so quick to tarnish and fade away. You tried to lock me away, never taking a care to what I wanted or thought. But you can’t do that to me anymore. I’m a Solomons, and I carry his child. You can’t touch me.”

Tommy settled, steel washed over his face. “They have a right to know.”

“You all have a right to nothing. I’ll see the family when I’m good and ready.”

His eyes shift to Alfie, “You are evil incarnate. You are cursed.”

No sign of mirth reaches Alfie’s eyes when he smirks, “Careful Tommy. You know what they say about curses. Especially when you curse family.”

Without another word, Tommy storms out. As soon as the door slams, shaking the lamps, you let out the breath in your heavy lungs, “Holy Shit”.

Your knees give out from under you, and cold shakes roll through your body. Alfie grabbed your body, helping you into a chair. “Settle my love it’s alright he’s gone. What do you need? Baby ok?”

“No I’m ok thank you my love. I just… I need air. I can’t believe he came here. He knows. They all know.”

“Hush darling, breathe for me, settle your nerves, you don’t need to worry. They know but they can’t touch you. You’re my wife and they can’t get to you. You are your own woman. You are safe.”

“But what are we going to do. What if they come?”

“Then we’ll deal with them. I’ll have some boys come in, set up a watch. We won’t be caught off guard ever again.”

You nodded. Trusting the words of your husband. You felt an affirming kick in your ribs. The rushing of your heart. You had paradise for three years. You couldn’t run forever, no matter how far you got. The bell had finally tolled, and it was time to face it.

[touyaki]

part two of three

part one, part three

contains: tendou x fem!reader, squirting, pussy eating, consensual photographing, use of “pretty girl,” “slut,” and “whore,” unprotected sex

tendou knows ushijima has his eyes on you and that you have your sights on him, too. that’s why he’s doing this, fucking you until you forget about ushiwaka, making you crave him instead. you look so pretty like this, blouse unbuttoned with your breasts spilling out of your bra, knees pressed to your chest. your skirt is hiked up, revealing your glistening cunt, panties discarded somewhere in his room. 

you were practically drooling over the thought of his cock, and you’re even naughtier now that it’s inside you. your borderline pornographic moans are proof that his plan is working. poor ushijima who’s never laid hands on a single cunt before could never make you feel this good. he could never know how to rub your clit until you scream, how to angle his hips so that your eyes roll back and you see stars.

“come on, pretty girl.” tendou pries your arms away from your face, grinning at the way your tongue dangles from your mouth, brows scrunched in pleasure. “i wanna see your face.”

you only whine in response when he pins your wrists down with one hand, the other reaching to fondle your tits. he pinches and rolls your nipple in his fingers, smirking when your back arches and goosebumps rise on your skin. 

“s-satori,” you babble. “feels so good, y-your cock feels good.” 

he didn’t expect you to say such lewd things—hell, he didn’t plan on asking you anyway. it’s a pleasant surprise, and the fact you said those on your own accord makes him move his hips harder, faster, until he’s sure everyone can hear your screams. the tip of his cock is nearly kissing your cervix now, so deep and full inside your tight cunt. tendou was hoping to last a little longer, but with how hard you’re clamping down on him, it’s impossible.

his thrusts grow sloppy, moans ripping from his throat. he chants your name, calls you his pretty little slut, turning you into his whore, and he won’t have it any other way. tendou isn't giving you up to anyone, especially ushiwaka. it’s not long before his legs can’t handle it anymore and he collapses against you, feeling how much his cum is filling you up. in a last attempt to make you cum, he rubs this thumb against your clit roughly. he doesn’t expect the clear liquid that gushes out of your fluttering cunt, splashing against his pelvis until it drips onto his bed.  

“i’m s-sorry,” you slur. “i-”

tendou shushes you with a kiss, tongue pressed against yours. he smiles against your lips and brushes your hair aside before straightening up. once he pulls his cock out from you, the mess that’s left has him growing hard again. his cum spills out of your gaping hole, down your slick thighs, wet from when you squirted. with a smirk, tendou reaches for his phone and opens the camera. 

“can i take a picture, baby? gonna show ushiwaka who’s making you cum.”

surprisingly, you nod, even spreading your legs wider to give him a better view. he could fall in love with you right then and there if he wasn’t already. you hear the soft click as he takes a snapshot of your pussy that still aches for him. after he sends the text, his phone blows up with a slew of messages that he ignores with a sly smirk. tendou silences it before he hovers over you once more, kissing you sweetly compared to how rough he was before.

“did it feel good, princess?”

you nod and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close. “still need you, satori,” you whine. “please, make me cum again.”

“so needy.” he slides down the bed until his head is in between your thighs. the tip of his tongue drags up your folds, collecting his cum mixed with yours. your fingers fly down to grab his hair, making him groan. “i’ll give you what you want, sweetheart. don’t you worry your pretty head.”

[armpirate]

Better than fiction | Choi San

Bf experience

pairing: Idol!Choi San x fem!reader

w.c.: 4.4k

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, oral sex (female and male receiving), masturbation (female receiving), protected sex, hair pulling, choking, dirty talk, dom!San x sub!reader. (Minors DNI! Refrain from reading if you're not +18, and ignore if you don't like this type of content).

Summary: You never thought what your boyfriend's reaction to you writing fanfic would be like, but you certainly didn't expect him to end up so jealous of himself to end up making your fantases come true

Aprox. time of reading: 19 minutes

MASTERLIST

Your blood stopped running for a few seconds. You could feel the way some parts of your body went numb, only keeping your attention on the live San started not that long ago, and that you decided to hear because his voice just had that calming effect on you. It didn't matter if it was through video call, audio messages, or those lives. You could hear him talking for hours and feel at ease all the time it lasted.

Except that day.

The way he made an understanding sound, followed by a scoff, that reached the deepest side of your brain, had you almost sitting at the edge of your bed, holding your phone with your two hands. The clicking sounds of his keyboard were the only thing that could be heard, while the chat went crazy, trying to distract him from his own curiosity.

There was a thick silence that made you aware of how hard you gulped, moving over the bed, feeling uncomfortable whatever the position it was.

"I see you, guys, are having fun" he teased with a honeyed voice.

That mocking tone, and the chuckle he let out after had you silently screaming, covering your mouth with the palm of your hand.

Even if he didn't know you were part of that small group of people that loved living in delululand, although you were already in your personal fanfic every day with him, you felt exposed, more like you'd never been before. It felt like you were caught doing something wrong, even if San wasn't speaking to you directly.

You didn't know how long you stayed in your bed, laying on your back as you stared at the ceiling. Only thing you were hoping for was that San didn't bring it up the next time you saw each other.

Basically because you were bad at lying, but San was also great at noticing when you lied to him.

You raised your phone to your face after feeling it buzz, biting your lip when you were aware of his name popping up at the top of your screen.

Sannie: Babe, did you watch the live? You didn't comment today...

You could imagine him pouting, with his lips pursed while he gave a lost kitten look to his screen. And he probably would've used his thinner voice if he had said that out loud directly to you.

Usually, you'd always leave a few comments. At first it started because you just liked teasing him, and seeing him getting nervous when your username showed up in the middle of the livestream. But it ended up being something he got used to, to the point of wondering if something happened to you if you didn't do it.

You: I did! But I was busy with work, so I just heard it while doing other things.

Sannie: Oh. Do you want me to go see you tomorrow better, then?

You: Nope, come here! You owe me a lot of cuddles

Sannie: I've only been away for a week...

You: Even a day is too much. Come here when you're done, pleaseeee.

San smiled when he looked at his screen, imagining your squared smile as you tried to convince him to go to your place for cuddles. Not like he needed much to be convinced, just the idea was convincing enough, but it was always cute to see him react like that -mainly because it was something you barely did.

"We're gonna order some food. Do you want anything?" Seonghwa's head peeked through his door.

San shook his head, not even trying to hide his playful smile as he got up from his chair "I'm going to Y/n's, so don't wait for me".

"Who's ever waited for you, any way?" Mingi teased, showing up in the corridor.

"I do" Seonghwa replied, looking back with an obvious expression.

Mingi rolled his eyes "He never leaves the house unless it's to see Y/n. And we know he never sleeps in when he goes to see her".

"Send a text when you get there" Seonghwa asked him, ignoring the boy behind him.

"And tell Y/n we said hi. You're gatekeeping her" Mingi complained, continuing his way to his room.

San simply smiled at that, pleased with the way all the members grew closer to you the longer your relationship went on. It always worried him that his friends and his significant other wouldn't get on well, but with you it was an automatic click.

Could be it was that you had that type of personality that molded into everyone else's easily, finding a bit of your humor and comfort in each one of the members. And while it sometimes made San jealous, deep inside he genuinely appreciated it.

You smiled widely when, after fifteen minutes, San knocked on your door with his arms opening big as soon as you stood in front of him. His arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you to his body and lifting you a few centimeters in the air before he was moving you back inside, kicking the door with his foot to close it.

"Did you shower?" after digging your nose in his neck, you could recognize the floral scent of his gel, which you loved.

Whenever that smell got into your system, your first reaction was to snuggle to him and hide your face on his chest. It really seemed like he got ready for those cuddles that night.

Not leaving you on the floor, but making you stand on your tiptoes over his feet -only covered with his white socks-, he started walking through the short corridor. "Yup, we had a schedule today. And I didn't want to go around all sweated" he tilted his head. "By the way, the boys say hi".

"It's been a while since I last saw them" you sighed. "Are you gatekeeping them from me?".

San rolled his eyes at that question, confirming that, in fact, you did spend too much time with them all during that year and a half.

"No, I'm gatekeeping you from them" he replied, stealing a peck from you. "Now seriously, we could plan something for the next time you're free" he suggested, stopping in the middle of your living room.

"Sure" you nodded, tapping his biceps so he'd finally let you stand on the floor again. "I'll prepare some snacks, why don't you look for something to watch".

His hands carefully put you back on the floor, while his lips were together as he saw your body disappearing behind the white door to your kitchen. He groaned, slowly taking a seat on the couch, resting his head over the backrest for a few seconds.

When he looked to his left, he could see that small surprise you prepared for him two weeks back, unable to control his thoughts as he remembered the weekend you spent together, barely moving from that corner before he left for the festival.

It was the physical reminiscence of how lucky he was to have you.

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table, having him lifting his head to look at it for a quick second before he went back to the relaxed position.

Until it finally hit him. He forgot his back in the dorm, which meant Seonghwa would be ranting at him for not announcing he arrived well, and for being careless enough to leave the house without the cell.

"Love, can I send a message through your phone? I left mine at the dorm".

"Sure" you mentioned, still places all the gummies and the cookies on a plate. "No, wait-" it was the only thing you were able to say when realization hit you.

Although you ran as fast as you could, it was already too late. Peeking over San's shoulder, you could see that he wasn't in your chats, but scrolling down a really different page. His first idea was to send the text and move on, but the notification at the top caught his attention.

You never hid your fan side. He knew you were part of the fandom as soon as you started dating, even before, so it wasn't anything new for him to hear you using Twitter slang sometimes, and knowing about some things long before he did. But that day there was an app he didn't recognize, with an ask from an anonymous person seemingly freaking out after what happened in the livestream that took place some hours back.

Time to close it all now. San will expose us to the rest of the members and, like that one, several other posts.

"Give it to me" but San moved faster, getting up from the couch to move the phone away from you.

"San x Y/n?" he frowned, scrolling down your page through some of the most recent one-shots you had posted.

He looked over some of the details, smirking when he noticed you chose the pictures where he looked best to top the stories that would come under them.

"For your own sake, stop reading" you asked, finally snitching the phone from his hands and hiding it on your back.

"Since when do you write fanfics?".

"You mean about you, or in general?".

"There's been others?" his eyebrows raised, but you could tell by the way he was smiling that he was just mocking you for your reaction. "Why are you so embarrassed? It's probably cute".

"No, it's not" you assured, scoffing after that confirmation.

"What? You paint me like a douchebag or something? Are they sad stories?" his head tilted to the side, with his smirk slowly dropping at that idea.

"No, they're actually fun for the people that read them" you muttered.

"I won't judge you. Honestly, if this is important for you, I want to know what it is".

Ever since you started dating there was nothing that he liked more than learning things about you, and adding them to his life just to make you happy. If you liked a cake with a certain flavor, he'd always manage to have it for any celebration you two made. If you liked one song in particular, he'd learn it and sign it to you, or add it to his playlist so you'd listen to it when you're together. Every small detail counted for him, and whatever it was you were hiding on your back was no different from all those things.

"They aren't sad stories. Cute neither" you nervously stated.

"Horror stories, then?" he frowned.

You shook his head, handing the phone to him "They're... explicit" you summed up.

San looked confused when he took your phone, clicking over one of the short stories. Seeing the warning in red had him gulping thick "dom!San, choking, spitting, rough sex...", eyeing you up quickly before he looked down at your screen again.

It was weird to read about himself in that context, never thinking he'd end up doing it, and even less because it came from you. When he found out earlier that evening that fans were writing that type of content, he wasn't entirely surprised, but it didn't cross his mind the idea of you being part of that niche. However, there he was, supporting his weight on his lower back -which was laying against the backrest of the thick armchair in front of your couch- while he read through one of the stories.

His heart pumped against his chest, a bit harder with every line he read. Every description, every detail, everything was so realistic yet seemed so unreal at the same time. He could almost touch the sexual tension between the two characters, before the San of the fanfic forced the main character into a rough sloppy kiss that almost made his knees tremble.

He could feel your eyes on him. And the only thing he was hoping for is that it wasn't as evident how much he liked what he was reading, while he hawked when his throat went suddenly dry at the roughness that was represented in the fanfic.

"I can delete it all" you assured him. "I will..."

"Do you like this?" he interrupted you, finally lifting his gaze to yours. "Are you into being treated like that?".

"Well, I don't know" you hesitated, confused by his question. "It's just fiction" you shrugged, stepping towards him.

"No, Y/n. Be honest. Do you think our sex boring?".

Fiction sex was blatantly different from your real sex. On fiction sex you were able to dig on those kinks you didn't know you had, but that had your whole body burning just at the thought of doing them with San. While real sex was just you two, loving each other.

"What? No" you stepped towards him, cupping his face with your hands. "They're just dumb stories I write when I'm bored".

"Or when you're horny" he muttered.

"Look, they're just fantasies, that I didn't even try. I like the idea of them, because I think it'd be hot, but that's it"

"Why didn't you tell me you liked that?"

"Because I don't want you to feel uncomfortable with it".

Despite his looks, San was the most gentle and careful person you had ever met. He'd stop the whole thing if something that he thought would hurt you or bother you happened, and you appreciated that. You loved the way he looked after you in every single aspect of your relationship. That was why you never mentioned the idea of having him spanking you, and even less choking you through sex. It'd be crossing a limit for him, and just like San took care of you when you had sex, you wanted to take care of him.

"So you do want to try it?" he asked, lifting one of his eyebrows.

After licking your lips, and softly pressing them, you ended up nodding shyly, lowering your gaze to your feet.

Something about that story didn't allow him to think straight. Maybe it was the way he could imagine you squirming and twisting with pleasure, or how loud and desperate your moans would sound -when usually they were little whispers you gifted to his ear. Or could be it was the slightest glimpse of jealousy he felt over the San in the fan fiction, who was able to pleasure his girlfriend better than he did.

He didn't give you time to react, holding your wrist before he dragged you to your bedroom. You had no time to process anything that was happening, before he made you turn on your feet and make your lips collide. San was demanding, moving your lips over yours, not giving you any other choice than trying to keep up with his pace as he held your neck with his two hands, slightly letting his fingertips dent on your skin.

A moan burned your throat when his tongue sneakily moved between your lips, meeting yours for a brief second before he was dominating the way they twirled, having your core begging for him in a matter of seconds.

He left you hanging in the middle of a fast breath, turning you around so your back was stuck to his hard chest. His hands traced the curve of your waist, with your knees trembling at the soft touch as his fingers kept moving up, taking with them the thin fabric of your old t-shirt. Once the piece of clothing was gone, his palms covered your exposed breasts, making your back arch almost perfectly.

There was something so strange at being controlled that way, or feeling like you didn't have to worry about anything because San knew perfectly what to do. And you loved it. You could feel the pool in your panties as time went by slowly, and the way your heart raced in your chest when his fingers pinched your nipples before he went back to pressing your tits with his palms.

"Did you ever touch yourself thinking about this, hmm?" his voice sounded unrecognizable. It was harsh and raspy, making its way to your guts and clicking to one part of your brain that almost made you moan the answer.

San didn't know if he wanted to know. He could understand you touching yourself because he was away, but because he wasn't pleasuring you like he should? He couldn't deal with that.

He didn't let you answer. As he saw the way you gulped and took a deep breath to let him know, his hand flew to your covered pussy, sliding his fingers over it until it was completely covered by his palm.

You desperately seeked for his lips, this time starting the sloppy kiss. Trying to keep your balance while standing on your tiptoes, while your head went in circles was suddenly the most difficult task.

Although you knew San had you.

He grinded against you, letting you feel his growing bulge against your ass while his hand slipped inside your panties. He wasn't able to hold back the moan when your wetness coated his fingers as soon as he slid them through your slit, just being able to think of how good his cock would slip in and out of you with barely any effort.

"Can you feel how hard you made me, babe?" the circles on your clit were barely leaving any room for your brain cells to work properly, although you were still able to pick up some of the things he said. "Time for you to do something about it, right?"

Your hips collided against the headboard with every deep thrust he made, making you feel completely trapped between the wall and his body, thinking that probably your pain senses were too fucked by pleasure to be able to feel hurt at the way it kept bouncing against the hard surface.

San enrolled his fingers on your jaw, moving your head up slightly to give your back the perfect curvature, so your pubic bone would come up against the bottom of his cock and giving his thrusts the perfect angle so his tip would end up rubbing against that spot that had you whimpering and grinding against him in a matter of seconds.

"All this time wanting to try this, and you're barely able to take it" he groaned, with a shaky voice due to the power of each one of his movements.

All the times you thought of being in that situation, San was harsh, he was animalistic, just like he was being in that moment. But you didn't count with the extra threat that were his hips. You should've known better than pushing a dancer, mastered in body rolls and hip thrusts, to his limits. He found the best position for him, having you completely caged so his only worry would be pounding in and out of you, concentrating on the killing move of his hips, letting you feel all of him inside of you, but also making your skin clap every time.

You scratched your thighs, having nothing else to your reach as your head was held up "Please" you moaned. You don't know what you were begging for. Pleasure just felt a little bit too much to contain it for any longer, you just wanted it to blow and have it leaving your system.

"Please what?" San forced your body a bit higher, sinking his teeth on your collarbone. "Use full sentences, babe".

"Please, don't stop" you begged, your voice cracked in need.

He wasn't going to stop. And even less after seeing you like that. There was nothing that could make him prouder than seeing you being a mumbling mess for his cock, sure that he was closer to losing himself completely to his most basic instincts just to have you looking like that for the rest of the night.

The echo of the slap made you squirm rather than the itch that his palm left after it, making your pussy instantly clench around him, with your walls closing tight around him as if you didn't want him to leave you empty ever again.

"You take me so fucking good" he hoarsed, circling your swollen clit with two of his fingers.

With his eyes fixed on you the whole time, he was able to tell the exact moment you were going to cum. He saw that spark in your eyes, momentary and fast, but strong enough for him to see it before your eyes went blank with a long moan, that sounded in sync with the way your legs trembled and your body convulsed on his.

He wanted to drink the last drop of your high, moving your neck so your face would be towards him, taking your lips in his with freedom while you blindly followed his moves, weakly sucking on his lower lip.

At that point you could only feel the way San moved on the mattress, dragging your body along with his until the two of you were kneeling in the middle of the bed. Although he tried to let go of that caring side to please you, you could sense it was still there, taking over him for a brief moment as he made you roll on the bed and lie on your back, carefully to not hurt you, and making sure at all times that you were okay.

One of his hands rested on your stomach, caressing the spot between your belly button and your pubes as he waited for you to recover. When you looked up to him, you felt so small... San was big, but that night he felt twice his size. The way he looked at you, brushing his hair back to expose some of the sweat drops that stopped right on his eyebrows, giving you what you had named as his "stage gaze" had your pussy throbbing again.

Your body squirmed when he leaned over, moving his tongue over your clit to steal a whine from you before he sucked on the bundle of nerves.

He swore one day he'd be completely addicted to your taste.

San slipped his full length back again, only warning you with his tip pressing on your entrance before he was stretching you out in that new position. He was completely lost in the way you looked, eyebrows slightly furrowed, lips parted as you weren't able to breath through your nose anymore, and tits bouncing with every thrust he made. Only to go feral when he lowered his eyes a bit more to find his cock covered in your arousal whenever he moved it out, hiding himself in your walls not even a mini second after. Whole shaft was shiny with your juices, with some white thicker cream on the base.

"The mess you made on my cock..." he scoffed, squeezing your flesh. "My girl does love to be treated like a hole meant to be used by me only, hmm?".

At the lack of response from you, other than the way your fists closed on the sheets and some of the whimpers you tried to keep hidden in your mouth by pressing your lips together, San moved his fingers around your throat again. His digits' pressure on your skin tightened with every thrust, giving you one thin line that allowed air to make it to your lungs. His left hand kept you glued to the bed, that squeaked under you a little bit louder as time went by, while his other hand hooked around your knee, keeping it as high and spread as possible.

The eye contact, the grunts, and his cock rubbing deliciously on your walls... All of it was the perfect mix for a ticking bomb in your guts that started a countdown to wipe everything out.

"Are you going to cum again for me?" he teased, recognizing that spark in your eyes again. "Let go, babe. Cum around me".

He combined those words with the twirls the fingers on his right hand were doing on your clit, feeling it throb on his digits before you reached your orgasm with a loud moan, arching your back in a way he thought it would break.

"Come here and make me cum now, love"

You crawled on the mattress to where he was, smirking at him as you took the condom off. He growled over you when your lips wrapped around him, barely giving him any time to get used to the subtle breeze in your room before he was feeling warm again. Your head bombed fast, eager to feel the way his cock twitched against your tongue when you least expected, while your hand matched the movements of your mouth.

San guided the way your head moved, with his fingers grasping on some of the lock of your head to move you a bit faster, while his hips just buckled against your mouth. He just needed one last flick of your tongue on one of his veins, and he was already spilling his seed in your mouth with a deep moan.

You still licked him off for a bit more, cleaning him completely, until there was no trace of everything you had done.

"Spit it here" he hollowed his hand at the height of your lips.

You bit your lower lip, moving your body to be on the same height as he was and confront that confused expression he was giving you.

"I swallowed it" the pride and playfulness in your voice made him smile, and break character almost instantly.

He moved right after you did, placing his hands on your hips while your arms wrapped around his neck.

"Was it better than fiction?" his head tilted as he asked that question.

"It was better than fiction" you admitted, playing with the sweaty locks on his nape. "Did you like it, too?".

San nodded, curving his lips slightly "More than expected, actually".

Before you could smile widely in relief, your boyfriend leaned over to kiss you, gently and caring, moving his lips sweetly over yours to get rid of any drop of his saltiness. "Let's clean ourselves, and let me give you those cuddles you were asking for earlier, alright?".

San helped you move out of bed first, holding your hand carefully so you wouldn't fall, joining in front of you right after. He stopped midway, having you looking at him confused. "Let me tell Seonghwa I arrived well. I forgot to send him the text".

"Go, I'll wait for you in the shower"

As he stepped away from you and turned around, you couldn't help yourself. Your palm smacked against his ass, having him turning at you surprised, giving you an eye smile before he shook his head and made his way to the living room.

It was a good thing he found out about fanfiction after all.

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: female reader, captivity, possessive behavior, non - consensual touching, hinted past stalking, hinted non - con, i keep making fairy tale references kfjhks My ko - fi <3

You actually feel calm now, almost at peace - although you can never be truly peaceful in the forest, you guess this is as close as it can get. You flip through the pages of the book, scanning the fireplace with the corner of your eye. It needs more wood, but it still keeps the cottage nice and warm. You tug at your big fluffy sweater - and think about just how domestic, how cozy this scene would be if you couldn't hear his footsteps creeping up behind you. You clear your throat and clutch the book closer to your stomach, trying to ignore him - hoping he'll go away if you pay him no mind. And just like the last few times, he sticks around like mud.

"Are you reading those fairytales again?" Raven calls out mockingly, the click of his tongue teasing your ear. He grasps your shoulders lightly, trying to take a peek at your book from behind the chair. You try to close it, but his hands quickly find your wrists, holding them in place. Now hyper - aware of his chest pressing against your back, you give in and let him look as his body heat spreads to your neck. "Such a pretty illustration, isn't it?" He hums to himself, a fox - like grin ruining his delicate features. When you don't respond, he just keeps going. "The knight kills the monster and rescues the princess." He reads the caption under the drawing, playing curious. "They live happily ever after." He flips the page. "The end." He mouths, averting his gaze.

You clench your fists and try to count to ten before you say something you will regret. You don't know why or how, but just one look at his face is enough to set you off nowadays. And anger is a losing battle - anger has you laying across his knees with your panties in your mouth, muffling your pained cries he likes to pretend are moans as he paints your butt red. So you shut up and bide your time.

"How sweet." The man chuckles with malice, quickly turning towards you just like a snake would curl around an unsuspecting little mouse. "I guess life really imitates art. Just like you and me." He observes with a self-satisfied smirk, reaching to light his cigarette. You hate when he smokes inside the house - the nicotine fume sticks to the walls for hours and you start choking and coughing, but he shows little concern for your heath; not that it's a huge surpirse to you.

"What do you mean?" You raise one eyebrow, hoping to at least take your mind off the nasty, overwhelming smell. If he sees your unease, he doesn't mention it, choosing to inhale even deeper, with his full chest. "You're the pretty damsel in distress." Raven explains calmly, charcoal eyes sinking into your vision like claws. It makes you feel naked, vulnerable - dissected to your very molecule. "And I am your knight." He lets his sharp teeth reflect in the dim light. "I saved you from those pesky insects who kept sulling you." You cringe at the way his tongue piercing drags against his canines. Track - track. "Aren't you glad I removed those obstactles for ya?" He gives you a crooked, sarcastic smile. "I think your hero deserves a little reward for all the trouble he went through just for you."

You blink away the tears as you are forced to remember it all in one breath. The police sirens - the investigation. The blood on your family's threshold. The used condoms hanging on your door for all neighbours to see, and the thousand messages calling you ugly names for months on end.

"You're no hero." You mumble under your breath, digging your nails deep into your palms - desperate to keep your tongue behind your teeth. But he hears you - he always does, and he just nods in agreement, coming close. Coming to take you.

Raven stands before you, hovering over you with one hand on the ashtray and the other tilting your chin up so you'd have no choice but to look at him and him alone. "Perhaps you're right." He admits, taking a puff off his long cigarette and blowing it in your face right after - simply in love with the way your eyes narrow in frustrated defiance as you wave away the thick smoke. "Perhaps I am not the hero, but the monster. The dragon." He laughs to himself, stubbing out the burning fag. You don't know what it is that he finds so funny, but you wish you knew so you could laugh along instead of crying.

He cages you in against the sofa, causing you to press even harder against the soft backrest. The message is clear - you'd let the house consume you before you let him as much as kiss you.

"It fits the story nicely, don't you think?" The man remarks, playing with a strand of your hair gleefuly just like a child would. You assume he derives some sick pleasure from touching you so casually - from caressing you, petting you, holding you. It's not even sexual, but it always shakes you to your core, and maybe for him that's the best part - where you can't go anywhere, but in his arms.

"Huh?" You break from your thoughts, growing confused. "Your analogy." He explains while still all over you. "It makes sense. I fought for you, and I won you fair and square." His eyes light up with the ferocity of a hunter. "I wanted you so I took you like the greedy bastard I am. I have no regrets - and if that makes me a villain, then so be it. I will burn the world down if it means you'd be all mine." His fist wraps around your loose locks, almost gentle, but not quite. There is something unnatural in his smile - you can't help, but imagine blood dripping from his chin. "But there is something your magic tales get wrong." Raven whispers diabolically, snapping his fingers. Everything goes dark - and his coat slips down on the floor.

"W-what?" You ask, shaking like a leaf - both afraid and deadly curious. You try to sharpen your senses, but you remain blind to his shadow - and the way it moves right between your legs, positioning them around his hips. You feel his manhood prod at your pubic bone, and you heart sinks to your stomach. "The ending." Your captor mutters, pushing you on your back, and you curse the electronic chair when it goes all the way down with little fight. "The moment when the cards are on the table..." He all but tears off the first button of your shirt. "And the princess is all alone with the monster. Face to face - with nowhere to go."

His tongue is hot on your neck - you try to push him off, but he pins down your wrists with feral force, growling like a wild beast. "And this time no one is coming to save her."

[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

[stillnotyourmusebitch]

I can’t stop thinking of demon! Adam going through development and reaching the point of like,, doing something nice without anyone telling him to do it, purely for the sake of doing it. Something he never would have done before. Even if it’s something as small as sitting down with you while you’re watching your favorite movie or show and not shitting on it the whole time, just to keep you company. Or something like that. I dunno. I’m just a sucker for slow burn subtextual romance.

THAT, and the reader seeing his face beneath the mask, looking him the eyes, and smiling a little. Even if they say nothing. I feel like that would stick with him.

Exactly. Demon!Adam lives in my head rent free now. I know this weren't a request of sorts but I kinda wrote something for this

random ficlet below

Demon!Adam x GN!reader (Fluff)

DemonSinner!Adam is something that plays on my mind a lot. He still doesn’t believe in the whole redemption shit that Charlie is laying down but if it gets him a glimpse of seeing heaven again he is willing to try.

-----

Adam was bored and needed something to do that would put off the inevitable “therapy” session with Lucifer’s brat later. So that must be why he finds himself outside your room. He knocks lightly on your door. You didn’t answer, he knocked again louder this time. Still no answer. So he opens the door and peers in.

“Hey errr (Y/n) Charlie asked me to check on you.” A blatant lie but he won’t tell you that.

He sees you’re watching TV.

“Huh? What no shitty nickname this time?” You mumbled around a mouthful of popcorn. Adam walks over and flops down on the couch next to you.

“Oh yeah, nah I didn’t really feel like it.” He grabs a handful of your popcorn.

You quirk a brow.

“Also Charlie said nooo giving nicknames to people that demean them and also who don’t want it and people were given names to be used blah blah blah.” He shoves the popcorn into his mouth. “So what are we watchin?”

“I'm watching a movie I really like so if you're staying either shut up or fuck off.” You sink back into your blanket cocoon.

*10 minutes later*

“What the fuck! This guy clearly likes her but she goes for the other bozo. Is she blind . . . . as well as ya know hot.”

You choke on your drink. You didn’t think that this would be his kinda thing but here he was emotionally invested in the film you had picked. You had really wanted to just wallow in your depression by binge watching trashy romcoms but what was really making you feel better was watching the ‘dickmaster’ himself rooting for the underdog to open up about his feelings to the lead woman.

You go to grab some popcorn but see the bowl is empty.

“Gotta pause.” You go to stand but he stops you.

“I got this.” He hides the good deed by quickly saying “And I need to piss anyway.” You pass him the bowl.

“Not in the popcorn I hope.” You rearrange yourself back in your blanket burrito.

“HAA, You nasty but don’t watch without me. Coz that is a dick move.”

“You know all about those.” You mutter into the blanket. But Adam had gone to the hotel kitchen to make popcorn.

You chose to scroll on your phone until he got back. There were a few messages but you didn’t really feel like answering them. You flop on your side. You can always move when he came back.

While you waited in silence for Adam. You think back on how he really was getting better. After seeing him slowly open up to Charlie’s ideas and seeing that he can be a good guy when it suits him. You smile to yourself.

Your door slams open.

“Okay I’m back bitch.”

Nevermind looks like he has thrown up his walls again.

He lays out the armful of snacks and the bowl of popcorn that looks way bigger than the bowl he left with. He sees you on your side.

“You comfy down there?”

You groan and slowly sit up again. He sits back down but wraps an arm around you and hugs you into his side and nothing more.

“Okay we can continue now.” He grabs the popcorn and rests it on his lap.

You set the movie going again and snuggle just a little bit closer. For popcorn reasons of course not that Adam was nice and warm and you felt safe next to him.

“Clearly she don’t know a good thing when she sees it.” You pipe up after about three minutes into the film again. You had seen this film so many times but there was one scene that always brought out annoyance in you.

“Right!! She needs to open her eyes this guy clearly loves her for who they are and not some fake ass bs that other . . . what?” Adam stops mid-sentence looking down at you resting against his chest.

You blink a few times before realising you are staring “Huh oh nothing.”

You focus back on the screen in front of you.

The climatic end of the film was approaching and the main lead were confessing their love and as the credits role you can here someone crying. You glance up and see Adam wiping away tears.

“You okay.” You sit up and reach for the tissues on the table to hand them to him.

“What!!! I’m fine. Of course I’m fiiiine. Shut up bitch.” He grabs the tissue box from you.

“If it helps I cried the first time I watched this movie.” You wrap the blankets tighter around yourself.

“I . . . ah . . shit.” He saw you curling further in on yourself. He feels guilt crawling into his stomach. “Sorry, I’m . . .Ugh. Look I’m bad at these feel your feelings crap that Charlie spouts. But it was a good film and yeah I cried but . . .”

“It don’t make you any less of a man.”

“Yeeeah I know. Of course I know. I’m the first man.”

“Huh back to that are we.” You bump shoulders with him, making him laugh.

He pulls you back into his side “So what are we watching now?”

------

I really didn't mean for this to be as long as it was. I'm sorry

[metalhoops]

“I think I’m seeing things, man,” Eddie spoke from his spot on the Harrington’s couch. His white skin appeared paler still against the brown leather. 

Steve didn’t blame him. He was on all kinds of painkillers. It’d been two weeks since the world fell apart. Two weeks since Vecna disappeared. Two weeks since Eddie almost died. 

Steve liked to treat those memories as others treated head-on collisions. It was better not to look at them directly. It was better to treat it like it’d never happened. 

“What’re we looking at?” Steve asked from his spot on the floor, following Eddie’s line of sight to the gap in the curtains. 

“Don’t know. Thought I saw somebody outside,” Eddie confessed. 

The Harrington house had always been filled with spectres, whether that of partygoers, like front lawn flamingos in need of an exorcism or the body in the backyard pool. But those were Steve’s hang-ups, not Eddie’s. 

If all it took to be a ghost was to haunt, Eddie might be included in the ranks of his own private phantasmagoria. He kept checking each night to make sure the boy was really there, that he’d really gotten out. People shouldn’t have that much blood in them, and they definitely shouldn’t have that much blood out of them. 

Steve went to the window because that was something he could do for Eddie. He wasn’t sure why he kept feeling the need to apologise. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but hell if Steve knew if he’d done anything right either. He’d gotten Eddie out of the Upside Down. He’d put his hands inside the boy’s body, shoved his shirt beneath his skin and held it in the dark cavity that oozed and throbbed warm blood like the rise and fall of the tide.

Don’t think about it. Check the window. His hands at his side felt cold. He wondered if they’d ever be warm again. There was a figure across the street. 

A boy in a basketball jersey circled passed the house. 

Things never ended smoothly. Steve liked to think once Jason went down the rest of the vigilante crew would stop looking for Eddie, but there were some stragglers who hadn’t got the message. 

Hopper had his hands full trying to clear Eddie’s name. Eddie’s uncle was still looking for him. The whole town was holding their breath in the midst of destruction, waiting for someone to blame. Steve shut the curtains, turned the lights off and moved to Eddie’s side in the darkness. 

“Hounds of hell still circling then?” Eddie guessed after one glimpse at Steve’s face. 

“I’ll call Hopper,” Steve reasoned, reaching up to squeeze Eddie’s knee. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it. Maybe to make sure he was real. Maybe to tell him he was sorry. 

“Don’t worry about it, Steve,” Eddie spoke, reaching out and snagging the hem of Steve’s sweater.

“No one thinks I’m here. If the cops show up at the Harringtons’ it’s going to turn some heads,” Eddie reasoned, and he was right.

So where did that leave them? Sitting alone in the dark with Eddie fading in and out of sleep and Steve watching car headlights dance across the curtains, waiting for the moment everything went wrong. 

“Steve?” Eddie breathed beside Steve’s ear in the blackness. He hadn’t realised they were so close. 

“Yeah?” Steve moved his eyes from the window to look at Eddie. 

“I think I’m crashing,” he noted, a grimace dancing across his face. Steve had never felt smaller. 

“Doc said we’ve gotta wait six hours,” Steve replied, hoping he didn’t sound as worried as he felt. 

“How long’s it been?” 

“Three.” 

Steve always wanted to appear cool in times of crisis, but he had no idea what he was doing. Some of the government agents Steve had signed countless NDAs for over the past four years had patched Eddie up as best they could and had started scrambling for a cover-up. 

In the meantime, Eddie would stay at Steve’s place. It made the most sense. Eddie was nobody to Steve. No one would go looking for Eddie at the Harringtons’, and unlike the other older teens, he didn’t have parents to answer to. Big house. No parents. Perfect place to lie low. 

Steve was nobody to Eddie and yet for the past week, they’d been an island unto themselves, trapped indoors together, watching shadows on the walls and trying to keep each other alive and sane. He felt completely unprepared. 

“Alright. Come on. Let’s go to bed,” Steve muttered, kneeling in front of Eddie. He watched the boy rise to a sitting position over his shoulder. Eddie snorted.

“What exactly is the plan here, Steve?” 

Eddie had been stuck oscillating between the living room, kitchen, and downstairs bathroom for days. They could both use a change of scenery. 

“Piggyback,” Steve spoke, trying not to think about the connotations that the word had garnered. He wasn’t going to think about Vecna. Not today. 

He expected the boy to argue, but instead, he felt Eddie’s arms snake around his throat. He held tight, but not as tight as he should. Steve had to hold on to his forearms like backpack straps as he stood. Eddie’s legs were stronger. They held firm around Steve’s waist. 

Eddie’s head flopped against Steve’s shoulder blade, nuzzling into the space. He was warm as the sun. Too warm. He was running a temperature. Steve tried not to think of the last time he carried Eddie. The boy was uncharacteristically quiet. Steve needed to do something. 

“Saddle up, buckeroo,” Steve spoke, hoisting Eddie further up his back. He felt a puff of air against his neck, a barely there laugh. 

“Hi-yo, Silver,” Eddie grumbled against Steve’s skin. 

Steve moved deftly through the dark, taking the staircase slowly and methodically. The last thing either of them needed was another broken bone. 

“I think I owe you one once all this is over,” Eddie noted. Steve was already shaking his head.

“You stick around, and I’ll call it a favour. I think Henderson would kick my ass if you died.” 

“The kid’s got spunk. I’ll give him that,” Eddie noted as the two reached the top of the stairs. 

“He’s got an attitude and a problem with authority,” Steve corrected, taking Eddie to his bedroom.

He moved to the edge of his bed and let Eddie extract himself. When they broke apart, Steve felt cold again. 

“That’s our boy,” Eddie chuckled, shooting Steve a lopsided smirk. He was definitely still high on painkillers.

Steve rolled his eyes and helped lower Eddie down onto his favourite pillow, the one worn down with age but all the more comfortable for it. He pulled the covers up around the boy’s shoulders.

“Yeah, our boy,” Steve echoed in a too-fond tone. 

He’d never let Henderson hear the term of affection. The kid had a big enough head as it was, but in the too-quiet world of just himself and Eddie, he felt okay admitting it. Once it looked like Eddie was settled in, Steve sat on the edge of his bed, feeling as he always did, like a stranger in his own home. 

“When did you last get some shut-eye, boy wonder?” Eddie asked, his foot tucking beneath Steve’s thigh.  

Friday. What day was it? Sunday. Not good. 

“Well, come on then, don’t make a guy beg. Lay down, Steve. It’s your bed. I could sleep in the spare room if it’s a problem.” There was something cautious about the offer Steve didn’t understand. 

He flopped down beside Eddie, so close the two shared a pillow. It changed the shape of the thing. It made the familiar strange. 

“You know, I had this dream last night,” Eddie began, his dark eyes still open, glued to the ceiling. He cringed, knowing all the ways dreams could go bad, but Eddie shook his head.

“Not that kind of dream,” He insisted, his hands balling into fists on the bedsheets. 

“I had a dream I was a pinball machine,” the boy stated plainly. The absurdity of the statement shocked a laugh out of Steve. 

“These painkillers are legit, Harrington,” Eddie spoke, shooting Steve a sidelong glance. 

“What kind of pinball machine?” 

“You know the Centaur one? It’s black and white, mostly. The arts got this topless guy who’s half man, half motorbike,” Eddie explained. 

Steve had no idea what he was saying, but it was nice to hear him talk. 

“Wait, if you were the pinball machine, how did you know what you looked like?” 

“Great question Steven. I’ve got no clue. Dream logic,” Eddie reasoned.  

Steve screwed up his nose at the use of his full name. Only his dad called him Steven. Eddie raised a brow, seeming to take note. One of them had shifted closer. Steve wasn’t sure who. Eddie’s hand brushed against his side as he played with the sheets. 

“Remind me again why I needed to know about your pinball dream?” Steve asked. The sound of the wind in the trees outside his bedroom window set his teeth on edge. 

“Because you’re too damn serious and I thought it’d make you smile... Which it did.” Eddie added the last part in quietly and Steve rolled his eyes. 

Eddie craned his head to look around Steve’s room before screwing up his nose. 

“Anyone ever told you your wallpaper is gaudy as hell? Your curtains match your walls. Dude, I thought rich people were meant to have taste,” he observed, the boys’ shoulders pressed together. 

“This coming from the guy who eats cereal out of the box with his hands,” Steve countered, no heat in his voice. 

“Are you still mad I used to stand on your lunch table?” Eddie muttered, shoving Steve’s shoulder before tensing. When had Steve last checked his dressings? 

He flipped the bedside lamp on, leaning over Eddie to do so. He’d been helping the guy shower for days now. Privacy was a word reserved for other people. Intimacy was a necessity.  

“Once you stood in my mashed potatoes. It was disgusting,” Steve uttered, gently peeling up the hem of Eddie’s tee shirt. Really, it was Steve’s, but it seemed strange to make distinctions. 

Eddie’s eyes trailed down to Steve’s fingers, half-hooded and slowed with sleep or inebriation, Steve didn’t know which. He wondered how much of all this Eddie would remember when he got better. He would get better. 

“You never ate the potatoes. You’d bring your stupid bagels from home,” Eddie remarked, as Steve carefully unwound the bandage and gauze. It was stained brown with dried blood, but it looked better than it’d been a few days before, no longer as red or swollen.   

The bagel comment made Steve look up. Seemed like Robin wasn’t the only one that’d been watching him. Maybe Eddie had a crush on Tammy Thompson, too. Maybe it was something else. Steve’s friends had crappy taste in women. Eddie could do better. 

“What’s the verdict, doc?” Eddie questioned, noticing Steve’s sudden silence. 

He cleaned the wounds as best he could. Eddie’s fingers had found their way to Steve’s thigh, gripping so tight he thought it would bruise. It would be another to add to the collection. Steve hadn’t been thinking of how his battle wounds were healing. He was in triage mode. Eddie’s wounds were worse than his. 

“We're going to have to amputate,” Steve deadpanned as he found the first aid kit he’d hidden beneath his bed years before, starting to redress the wound. 

“How the hell can you amputate a side?” Eddie asked with a shaky laugh, his breathing more ragged again. 

“Well, you see, there’s this new experimental procedure that lets you transplant your brain into a pinball machine,” Steve began and felt Eddie’s elbow in his side. 

“Screw you.” 

Steve laid back beside Eddie, less space between them than before, if it was at all possible. They braced against each other, the contact grounding Steve. Eddie was alive. He was alive. Maybe one day they could look at each other and not think about death. That day wasn’t today, but Steve could hope for it. 

As Eddie drifted to sleep, his head fell on Steve’s shoulder. He wouldn’t sleep for long that night, but he was used to that. He knew the weeks and months after a run-in with the Upside Down were full of fitful sleep and nightmares, but they never lasted. 

On a long enough timeline, you could get used to anything. It was strange how short that timeline was when it came to getting used to Eddie. 

More days came and went with the same imperfect routines. The two boys woke at all hours of the night and spent the daylight hours behind closed curtains, trying to heal. 

By the third day, Steve got sick of the quiet. A sombre mood hung over them, shifting and changing like the phases of the moon. It never entirely disappeared, but there were moments it seemed almost absent.  

One of these such moments arose when Steve hijacked the boombox from the living room and dragged it upstairs to his bedroom, where a slowly healing Eddie sat bored out of his mind, aching and itchy. Steve knew the feeling. The wound on his neck had scabbed and begun to fade into a scar. 

“Hey, Munson?” Steve spoke, sitting beside Eddie, spreading his tape collection between them. 

“You wanna hear some real music?” He asked, watching Eddie’s nose scrunch and his teeth worry away at his bottom lip.

“These are all horrible, Harrington.” 

Eddie turned over several cassettes in his hand, treating them gently as though they were something special.  

“You have every WHAM! album, dude. The Outfield. Halls & Oats. Tears for Fears,” Eddie listed off, his tone one of disgust. 

“You’re going to have to pick something, or I’ll pick WHAM! out of spite.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes and shuffled through the tapes, tossing one Steve’s way. 

“Bowie isn’t horrible,” Eddie mumbled as Steve placed The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, into the player. 

The two sat shoulder to shoulder, as always, listening to the quiet swell of drums. Steve realised too late it was a song about the end of the world. He realised, later still, that it was a love song. Eddie’s fingers drummed against his knee. Steve tried to ignore the way the action made his heart swell. 

Steve couldn’t sit still any longer as Moonaged Daydream began. He remembered another life in Nancy Wheeler’s garage, asking her to pretend things were normal for a couple of hours. God, he wanted that. He needed a few normal hours.

He wasn’t the same person he’d been back then, but parts of him had stayed the same. He didn’t know how to change them. Nancy Wheeler faced problems head-on, but Steve? The passage of time had taught him how to stand his ground in the face of danger, but he hadn’t yet learned how to stop being chased. 

He caught Eddie’s eye and watched as a wicked grin spread across his face. Without words, he knew exactly what Steve was about to do. He grabbed the nail bat he kept by the bed, the same one from the Wheeler’s garage and sang, using the gnarly weapon as his makeshift microphone. He was a little too loud and a little off-tune.  He sang about alligators and space invaders, lyrics he knew off by heart, without understanding them.

He watched as a grin threatened to crack Eddie’s face in two. There was a reckless abandon to his smile. It was different from the glazed-eyed, half-high smiles of the past week. His eyes were keen and sharp as he watched Steve fling himself across the room in the way only someone who’d learned to dance drunk could.

By the time the album finished, he’d worked up a sweat. Eddie joined in, singing a couple of lines when he could before tugging Steve back to bed, his hand in Steve’s hair, smoothing it back in place. The action was intimate, yet familiar.

“Alright, Starman. Maybe Bowie doesn’t suck so hard, but when I’m not on the run from the law, I’m going to show you what real music sounds like.” 

“Promise?” Steve asked, his chest heaving. 

Then, Eddie did something so unlike anything the populous of Hawkins would expect. To them, he was a Satanist and a murderer. Steve had always known better, but he’d seen Eddie as a wildcard. He was loud and rough around the edges, but he also had the capability of being endearing when the moment called for it. Still, Steve had never expected Eddie to roll over, extend his pinkie and link their little fingers together. 

“I promise,” He assured, placing his lips to the knuckle of his thumb as though sealing the deal. 

The action was equal parts childlike and intense. Steve looked down at their interlaced fingers and knew he was in over his head. Warmth pooled in Steve’s fingertips. 

“Eds, I—,” A knock at the downstairs door made the words die on Steve’s lips. The boys pulled apart. Steve was cold. 

“I’ll get it,” Steve spoke, picking up the discarded nail bat and trudging down the stairs. 

He hoped it was one of the door-knocking jocks. Some primal part of him felt like hitting something. Years before, he would have questioned if he was the kind of person who could do it, but now he knew he could. 

Steve clutched at the bat hidden behind his back as he swung open the door, coming face-to-face with an older man dressed in too-short jean shorts, holding an armful of paper bags. He looked familiar. He’d seen the man with Hopper. A furrow etched its way onto his brow. 

“Aren’t you going to let your beloved uncle in, Steve?” The man spoke, loud enough for the people in the next neighbourhood to hear. 

“Right,” Steve mumbled, pushing the door open and stepping to the side. 

The man walked through the house as though he’d grown up within their walls, dropping the paper bags on the countertop, switching on the lights and examining the space. 

“Hopper sent me with supplies. It’d draw too much attention having the feds at your front door, but a visit from your favourite Uncle Murray? That’s incognito. I’ve got groceries and painkillers, slipped in some vodka too, on the house. Personally, I was thinking of making my homemade ravioli for dinner. Trust me, it’s to die for. Where’s the other one by the way?” The man, Murray, breathed, spinning on his heels to examine the interior of the house.  Steve let his nail bat fall to the floor.

“You really should invest in a gun, kid...Was I interrupting something?” The older man asked, gesturing absentmindedly to his balding head. Steve touched his hair and found it still out of place. He ran his fingers through it in an attempt to tame it. 

“No, we... I was sleeping. Eddie’s upstairs. I think he’s okay, but I could use another set of eyes. I don’t know exactly what I’m doing here. Are you staying?”

“I’m just staying for dinner. It’d look strange if your uncle only showed up for a few minutes, wouldn’t it?” Steve didn’t dignify that with an answer. 

“There’s the man of the hour,” Murray spoke, glancing up at the top of the staircase where Eddie stood, leaning heavily on the banister. 

“What happened to staying up there?” Steve spoke through gritted teeth, making his way back up the stairs. 

“You were taking too long,” Eddie muttered with an unbothered shrug. 

“And if it’d been one of Jason’s asshole friends, we’d have been screwed,” Steve rebutted, letting Eddie lean on him as they made their way to Murray in the kitchen. At least he could walk.

“But it wasn’t,” Eddie huffed, his breath warm on Steve’s neck. 

Steve kicked out one of the kitchen chairs and lowered Eddie into it. The older man watched them as a scientist observes a specimen. There was a morbid fascination to it.

“I see you two are getting along well,” He spoke. 

He’d found where Steve’s mother had stored their pots and had begun some strange kitchen alchemy. Steve had made risotto. This guy looked like he was completing a summoning ritual. The ingredients were splayed out on the countertop like objects of adoration. 

Steve sat down in the chair beside Eddie. It felt strange having someone else in the house. For what seemed like a lifetime, his world had consisted of one other person. He missed Robin, Dustin, and the rest of the kids, but he hadn’t let himself dwell on it. He’d known their isolation couldn’t last forever, but he’d never have guessed Murray would be the first person he’d see.  

“Tense mood. Why is it I always end up in the middle of couples in denial?” Murray breathed to himself. 

Eddie’s head snapped up with a speed Steve hadn’t seen him manage all week. Steve didn’t look at Murray, he was too busy trying to unpick the pained look on Eddie’s face. His eyes searched the boy’s body for some torn open wound he’d missed. 

“What? Don’t look so surprised. Contrary to what kids these days think, we did have homosexuality in the sixties,” Murray informed before pausing. He gave Steve a once-over that made his skin crawl. He felt as though he were a bug, pinned beneath a glass plate. 

“And bisexuality,” He clarified. 

Steve averted his eyes and reached over to squeeze Eddie’s knee. He was hopelessly lost in the conversation, but he knew something was wrong with Eddie. The boy jumped at the sudden contact and Steve pulled his hand away as though burnt. 

“So, what’s the problem? Still in denial?” Murray asked, levelling Steve with a knowing look. He scowled back at the man, ready for him to leave. 

“No. I think you know how you feel, maybe even how he feels.” Steve didn’t know how to respond. 

“You, however,” Murray continued, turning his attention to Eddie, the boiling pot on the stove, forgotten.

“I don’t think you have a clue. Self-esteem issues, maybe. You try to hide it, but you couldn’t imagine that someone in a house like this would look at you twice.” 

“What the hell, man?” Eddie breathed with a huff of indignation. Murray showed no signs of stopping. His eyes were back on Steve. 

“So, what’s holding you back? You got your heart broken after Nancy Wheeler. Let me guess, you keep saying how much you want commitment, but you keep dating the wrong people, people who don’t want to be tied down. That, my boy, is self-sabotage and him,” Murray spoke, indicating Eddie with a wooden spoon he’d been using to stir the rice. 

“He looks like a long-haul kind of guy.” 

“Dude,” Eddie interjected. 

“What? You’re both obviously attracted to one another. Don’t lie. I have eyes. You’re telling me that all this near-death stuff hasn’t made you re-evaluate your life a little? It’s just been you two, locked away together at the end of the world, helping each other heal. Seeking comfort in one another. You’ve got shared trauma. That kind of thing bonds you for life.” 

“Leave it alone,” Steve said, standing as he spoke. The chair scraped on the tile floor. A nails on a chalkboard kind of sound. 

Steve pushed past the older man, pulled the pot off the stove, and let a tense silence settle over the three of them. The subsequent dinner dragged on in uncomfortable silence. Steve and Eddie kept their eyes glued to their plates. Murray talked but neither paid attention. He gave Eddie’s wounds a once over, appearing as lost as Steve. He didn’t seem concerned, so Steve took it as a good thing. 

He thought he’d known what tense silence between himself, and Eddie felt like, but he’d known nothing compared to the moment Murray left. His whole body was on edge. Eddie wouldn’t meet his eyes. They needed to talk, but neither wanted to be the first to cave. 

“I was thinking of turning in early,” Steve spoke, not knowing what else to say. 

“Yeah. Me too.” 

The boys lay side by side, but sleep didn’t come. Eddie’s body was wound tight as a tourniquet. This time, Steve was the one bleeding out. 

He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what. Maybe that he was sorry. Murray was right. Steve had known Eddie liked him and he hadn’t said anything because it wasn’t a problem he could throw himself in front of. It’d be easier if he thought telling Eddie would end up with him getting hit. There were worse things. 

Eddie’s feelings had become more apparent as their time together wore on, but on some level, Steve had known long before. When Eddie had leaned over into his space smelling of cigarette ash, dried earth and sweat and called Steve some god-awful pet name, he’d known. He also knew the feelings weren’t one-sided. 

That revelation came later. Eddie had been fading in and out of consciousness. Steve had shaken him awake to redress his wounds when it happened. The boy awoke, shooting him a lopsided grin, gazing at Steve with his drowsy, doe eyes.

He’d crooned, ‘Good morning sunshine’. And that had been enough. 

Steve’s heart had stuttered to a halt as it had all the times before when a pretty girl had called him a prettier name. 

As much as Steve hated to admit it, Murray had been right about a lot of things. There was one thing Steve desperately wanted him to be wrong about. 

He and Eddie were bonded because of what they’d been through. That’s what the man had said. Shared trauma. Was that all they were?

Steve was back in the bathroom with Nancy, her white shirt, red. The whites of his eyes the moment she left, red. 

He knew where shared trauma got him. He’d try to bury it. To move past it. He wanted to be more than what was done to him. People would say he was running. He was bullshit. 

How was he meant to sit with the kind of stuff he and Eddie had been through? How was he meant to fight it? Would Steve always look at Eddie and see his death? Would Eddie always look at Steve and feel like dying? 

“I wished I’d met you later,” Steve spoke to the dark room. Eddie’s locked body loosened, and as it did, he started to shake. In a moment, he’d start to bleed too. 

“You know, normally people say they wished they’d met you sooner.” 

“I mean... I wish we’d met after everything with The Upside Down. That you hadn’t gotten dragged into it. I wish that we’d gotten to know each other the normal way,” Steve explained. Eddie snorted. 

“Can you imagine me doing anything the normal way?” He had a point. 

Steve didn’t know how to say what he wanted to say. The silence was back, looming large as a lunar eclipse. 

“You aren’t... weirded out by what he said? About me liking you?” Eddie’s voice was small. The only time Steve heard Eddie whisper was when he was dying. 

“I think he also said something about me liking you back,” Steve replied, glancing at Eddie’s profile only to find the man was already watching him. His face was contorted in confusion. 

“Then... what’s the problem here, Stevie?” 

Steve had never been good with his words. 

“What if we’ve ruined it?” He tried. At seeing a frown cross Eddie’s face, he knew he hadn’t done a good enough job at explaining. 

“With what’s happened between me and you. You never would’ve looked at me twice if I hadn’t saved you, and what if that’s all we’ve got? Shared trauma.” 

Bullshit. What if all they had was bullshit? Eddie finally understood.

“I don’t like you because you saved me, Steve. I like you because despite all the terrible shit you make me want to laugh.  I love that you’re shit at dancing, but you do it anyway. Also, screw that guy your risotto is better than his. You’re a good cook. Your stupid hair makes me want to slam my head in a car door and before you say anything, that’s a compliment. You care so damn much about everyone.” To Steve’s surprise, Eddie’s hand reached up to touch his cheek. 

“I don’t like you because we’ve been through bad shit together. I like you because you make me feel like one day, we’re going to get out on the other side of it, that things aren’t going to be like this forever,” Eddie finished.

Steve’s heart was a cardinal, beating itself bloody against a windowpane. 

“Can I kiss you?” Steve breathed. For the first time in a long time, he was nervous. 

Eddie’s smile was a lightning strike, bright, beautiful and something they’d shape gods after. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

Eddie’s lips were warm.