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with-my-calamitous-love · 2 days ago

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burnt toast, sunday / i wanna teach you how forever feels

katsuki bakugou x reader

the morning after a fight with katsuki. for the yail series ❄️

inspired by all of the girls you loved before

bakugou sat up, groaning a bit as his back ached. he looks around, hit with his surroundings. he slept on the couch, in the midst of the living room torn apart from arguing.

he knew you were probably still pissed at him. worst of all, he couldn't even fully recall why you two had been arguing the night before. he only remembered that it was really, really bad, and you had ended up locking him out of the bedroom. just the thought of not sleeping next to you hurt blonde’s chest.

he lets out a sigh as he got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen to make coffee. when he sits up, he sees you walk in.

he cringes slightly, seeing your puffy red eyes. you had been crying all night, probably.

“…hey.” you say, softly.

he grunts in response, his words unable to reach his throat.

its a sunday, a quiet morning to contrast a loud, abrasive saturday night. the two of you resolve to make coffee silently, only speaking when you need a spoon he’s standing next to or when he needs you to move so he can grab the sugar.

the silence felt incredibly awkward. the two of you just stood there, quietly making your own cups of coffee. the only noise in the room was the sound of the coffeemaker brewing. bakugou’s thoughts were a mess. he couldn’t believe the two of you had gotten in such a big fight, and he wasn't even entirely sure why it happened. but he knew he was probably at fault, he was the one with the explosive personality after all.

he curses at himself quietly when he realizes he grabbed two pieces of bread. he does that normally- one for you, and one for him. but right now, you’re pissed at each other. he’s a little worried that making two pieces of toast will be seen as a violent act of aggression.

he moves to grab plates, too absent minded to notice that the toast is now burning. you take it out for him. thats when he noticed you’re still wearing his shirt, even though you’re mad.

he picks up his phone and scrolls, trying to distract himself. thats when he remembers what the fight was about.

whoever it was that got ahold of katsuki bakugou’s dating history was really obsessed or really, really bored, maybe both. for whatever reason, his fans were now talking about all his previous partners, the good and the bad. and, because you’re dating a celebrity, they just have to question your worthiness to be dating the handsome and strong dynamight.

he feels his anger flare up as he doom-scrolls some more. it pisses him off, thinking about how people would so mindlessly say things. it pisses him off more that its getting to you. don’t you know that he loves you?

he has yet to do anything about it, to address his dating life and who he’s with now. truthfully, katsuki doesn’t feel like he should have to. his pr team already works overtime for his asshole-self, anyway.

he’s so distracted by his own thoughts, he fails to notice the way his elbow knocks over your mug, sending it shattering on the floor. maybe its the silence, but you honestly jump a little when it happens.

both you simply stand there at first, blinking. did he do that on purpose? no, he wouldn’t break his own mugs.

maybe he just wanted your attention.

nonetheless, you wave it off with a soft “its okay” before kneeling down and carefully cleaning up the shards. he’s silent as he gets down in front of you, helping you clean the mess he made.

he wants to tell you its okay, and that he’ll take care of it. he wants to tell you that he’s sorry and that he loves you. but this is the closest he’s physically been to you since the argument, and he wants to relish in it for a moment.

“are you still mad at me?”

he almost flinches when he hears your meek voice. why would he be mad at you?

“..what are you talking about, babe?” he sighs, his voice gruff.

he is mad, but not at you. mostly at himself for not seeing how the recent speculations about him had been bothering you.

“i don’t wanna repeat myself. i just… i don’t know. i know you don’t want me to care about what everyone else is saying, but, i do.” you admit, still on the floor in front of him. at this point, you’ve both forgotten about the coffee and the shards.

he can see how upset you are, and it makes his chest tighten. “yeah, well… i don’t want those shitty extras getting to you. even if what they’re saying is the farthest thing from the damn truth.”

he so desperately wants you to know that he loves you. that when he’s with you, he doesn’t think of all the times he woke up to someone else, feeling alone. he doesn’t think of late night arguments that left him feel empty. when he looks into your eyes, he’s reminded of everything he wants to protect.

but you don’t see that as clearly as he does. “i guess i just… wonder if you agree with them. you never say anything to address those rumours, about your exes. and its not your fault, i get you don’t want to get involved, but, still…”

bakugou’s heart twinges as you bring up those accusations. he hates that you wonder such things, that you wonder if he agrees with those rumours or not. he wants to reassure you that you are the one he loves, the only one he loves. but he knows you wouldn't believe him right now, especially since he's been acting so shitty towards you lately.

“damn it, dumbass, i just want you to know that i love you. not any of those other bitches.”

“i don’t like when you call them that, katsuki.” you correct him. he nods, though both of you should be used to his sailor tongue by now.

“they’re people you’ve loved before… and thats okay. sometimes i just wonder if you love me more. i know its stupid.” you sigh.

he finally gets the courage to hold your hand, his calluses gentle against your skin. “..i feel i shouldn’t have to say it, i guess. in my head, you’re the only damn person in the world who matters.”

“maybe i’m just insecure.” you chuckle, self deprecatingly. you’re both tired of the arguing, now. “you’re #1, you’re gorgeous… and i’m me.”

he looks at you like you’re a complete idiot for that.

he hated hearing you say those things about yourself like it was a bad thing, that you were just you.

“just you? you really think it’s a bad thing to be you, dumbass?”

he pulls you in tighter, wanting you to really hear what he says.

“you’re amazing, you're incredible. there’s no one else I want to be with. I don't want anyone else, just you. you’re way too good for me, [y/n], in more ways i can count.”

“…you really mean that?”

he scoffs, a beautiful smile on his face. “yeah, i mean it. i love you.”

you give him that smile he loves, the one that made him fall so deeply in love with you all those years ago. “thats all you had to say, kats.”

your past and his are parallel lines. he isn’t sure how he got so lucky. how, by some cosmic miracle, the starts aligned so he could intertwine with you. you’re all he needs.

he hugs you deep, burying his face into your neck. he loves how you smell, how smooth your skin is. theres bot much proof, but he sees enough in you. he feels enough when he holds you, his entire world in his arms.

“i’m sorry.” he says, quietly for only you to hear. “you’re everything to me. i’m in love with you.”

your heart swells, ignoring the burnt toast and spilled coffee. you’re wearing his shirt, and he’s keeping his word. thats enough to make you melt, hugging him back, arms thrown around his muscular back. “i’m sorry too. i shouldn’t have doubted you. i love you too.”

he pulls back slightly to kiss you, making sure you’re in front of him and that this is real. for once, he let’s go of all of his fears and his ghosts. you’re his best friend, the love of his life and every beautiful thing he loves. he hears it in the silence, on his way home, and in your voice.

“if anything, i think i’m grateful for everyone you’ve loved before.” you chuckle, face close to his. his blonde eyebrows knit in confusion. “what do you mean, babe?”

“because the people you love make who you are, even if you’ve only loved them for a moment.” you say, squeezing his hand. “all those dead-end streets led you to me.”

he pauses, strange look on his face when he realizes you’re right. all that fake love, the teenage heartbreak and pains he’s been through- it’s made him the man you love. all those breakups, those unsaid goodbyes, they’ve led him hear.

he huffs, and then smiles, pressing his forehead to yours.

“i wouldn’t change a damn thing, then.” he says. “it all led me to you, dumbass.”

you stroke his cheek affectionately, pressing a kiss to his temple. his eyes close when you do that, relaxing into your touch. everyone that he knew brought him hear. and now, he gets to know what forever feels like.

“and in the end, it doesn’t matter who loved you before.” you conclude. “cause i love you more.”

he almost laughs at how cliché it is, resigning to press kisses all over your face. “i love you more, i’m not arguing on that.” he says, holding you in his lap. he’s tough, and explosive, and “too good for all that clingy couple bullshit”. at least, thats what he lets the world believe.

you’re his, and he’s yours. he’s so god damn thankful for everyone you’ve loved before. ‘cause now he gets to love you 10x more.

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botslayer · 2 days ago

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If the fire, sulfur, black iron, and devils every which way didn't give it away, both of us aren't in a place you want to be after you die. I'd offer you a drink but the only things they offer you usually came out of... Well. You. My own blood has a pretty good palete.

You don't have to panic. Not yet. You aren't dead, again, not yet. You're only here because everyone gets a fair warning. So change your ways, yadda yadda, find Christ, yadda yadda... Can you tell my heart isn't in it? Good. At least they'll vary up the torture for it. You get sick of eating hunks off of yourself and still being able to feel it the whole time.

Oh... You want to know what I did for that punishment? Well. It started when I was alive. I killed a man in self defense. Robber broke in, I shot him. And it was all down hill from there. I moved out to the woods after the third guy... Mostly because the best I could do there was plead manslaughter.

Anyway. I bought a plot of land not too far from a hiking trail, built a little shack. Turned it into quite the operation. I was a one-man Sawyer family. I had butcher knives, cleavers, cutting boards, sausage stuffers... I remember the first time I ate a man in those woods. The first woman was alright. I screwed up the spices for her liver, though. Live and learn. All in all? I musta got about twelve or thirteen hapless hikers where they needed to be. And I ate like a king for six years.

Why only six? Throw another skull on the fire and I'll tell you... Thank you. See. One night, another guy came traipsing up the path. Another lost and weary traveler. Two in one day, would you believe it? But winter was coming. So a quick stock up in the event of being snowed in was necessary. Problem was I was outside having a smoke and I was still draining the latest one. If he saw that there'd be no mistake what I was up to.

So here comes a seven foot slab of man. Treating the cold around him like it wasn't much of an issue. One thin hoodie over a thin T-shirt and some overalls. I took to a short conversation with him as I sized him up. He had about a foot of height on me and he was built. Big country, cornfed son of a bitch.

"Who're you?" "Who are you?" "Why are you on my property?" "You can own property this close to a hiking trail?" So on and so on... And then I asked if he knew how to get back to the trail. It was getting dark, you see. I offered to help him back if He'd just let me nab my hiking boots. He agreed and I tried to circle around him. I figured he would still be looking at my front door. Waiting like a big old dog.

But when I exited the side, butcher knife in hand, he was holding a woodcutter's axe. Still looking at the door though. I could tell his tool wasn't mine. Crazy bastard must have had it strapped to his back... I took the chance and leapt at him from the side. He shook me off but the fight forced the door to my cabin open and he got a good look at the woman on the hook. I had left the TV on and was listening to it as I smoked, lit her up enough to see.

I'll remember until eternity, when else is there to remember to down here? But I'll remember until eternity what he said after I got to my feet. "Well... This is awkward," and I think it was a joke. I don't know. But I couldn't help but laugh. "I suppose it is."

But we looked at each other... And we kept sizing each other up. I knew my chances of surviving a face-to-face fight with a bigger man with more reach were minimal... If I recall correctly, he didn't want to fight. "We don't have to do this. I could help you butcher if you want..." But I tell you no lie when I tell you meeting a kindred spirit. One so forceful. One so... Comparatively Jovial. I was in love. And love makes us all do crazy things.

The next few minutes for both of us was a game of hack-and-seek. And we were both it. I don't know if he felt the same, but I think we were both having fun slinking around my house and yard. It was a hell of a way to spend my last hour or so on Earth.

But he caught me. I rounded just the wrong corner and he had me by the scruff of my neck. His weapon, unwieldy as it was with a single hand gave me just the time I needed. I stabbed him in the throat just in time to feel the axe crack though my rib cage and split my heart. I died on top of him... I remember trying to kiss him but I don't think I got close enough to his chin.

And now I feel it is another punishment for me. To never see my darling Francis again... I take some solice knowing he hasn't seen me, either... Maybe it means he felt the same. Who can say?

... Your presence in this realm is fading... Well, your arm is translucent, that's usually a dead give away, no pun intended... Just remember. Change your ways. Or you might end up with a good view of what's happening to everyone else while what happens to you, whatever it is, goes on and on. And on. And on. And on. And on.

After successfully leading your next target to your murder-shed in the woods, they pull out an axe from themself and proclaim "oh, this is awkward."

#pov #you're in hell #writers #writers on tumblr #writing prompts #writeblr #writing inspiration #tw gore #tw violence #tw violence against women #love story #of a very messed up kind #serial killers #cannibalism

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roanofarcc · 1 day ago

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YOU & ME

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: After returning to OBX, after the events of the past four years have cooled off, JJ realizes it's about time he asks you a very important question.

Warning: JJ deserves a happy ending! Season 4 spoilers.

word count. 1k || masterlist

JJ found you out on the dock, leaning over the railing and looking at something in the water. He smiled to himself as he strolled toward you, running his fingers over the ring he stuffed in his pocket.

“Find any treasure down there?” JJ asked as he approached you.

You threw him a look over your shoulder. “Not funny,” you replied, but there was a smile on your lips that told him otherwise.

The Pogues had rightfully retired from their treasure-hunting days. Too many close calls and they weren’t willing to risk it anymore. They didn’t need to, not after finally cashing out for the last time. JJ, with your guidance and gentle threats, promised to be responsible with his share this time around. For the first time in his life, he saw a future illuminated brightly ahead of him. He had you, his friends, and even a God-daughter now. While his risky tendencies weren’t completely put to bed, he was comfortable where he stood and finally felt like he could relax.

All in all, he was happy. But there was still something he had yet to do.

He slung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side as you both gazed at the water. As much as he had once enjoyed action and adventure, JJ partially used it as an escape. He felt like he had been running from something his whole life, trying to make sense of why he was the way he was. He used to think that, if he never slowed down, nothing would have the chance to hurt him too much. But then he found a family within his friends and a reason to stop running within you. He didn’t need to escape anymore or run. He didn’t need to make sense of anything anymore. JJ Maybank finally had everything he had been looking for. His world made sense for the first time, and he had no intention of screwing that up.

“You okay?” you asked softly, reaching up and brushing a hand across his cheek.

“Yeah, just thinkin’.”

“Uh-oh,” you teased, moving to stand in front of him. You hugged him lightly, peering at him with furrowed brows. “Thinkin’ about what?”

JJ leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. “You.”

“And what about me?” Your breath was warm against his face, competing against the cool breeze off the water. The distant laughter of his friends sounded from up the dock, where they all sat around, eating and cooing at little baby Routledge.

The worst years of his life, only peppered with good from his Pogues, felt like lifetimes behind him. All of the pain he experienced faded like his scars. He only had the good parts now, and there wasn’t a chance on Earth he’d let them slip away.

“I have a question I’ve been meaning to ask you,” JJ said, hesitant not because he was unsure, but because there was still a fear in the far depths of his mind that you’d leave him. It was stupid, you had told him that a million and three times, but he couldn’t help the faint voice in the back of his head pestering him in a whisper.

You silently waited for him to continue. As he worked up the courage, he closed his eyes for just a second, picturing the same little dream he’d created in his head not long after meeting you.

“We’ve got a pretty good thing goin’, huh?” he started.

A breathy laugh fell from your lips. “I’d say so.”

“Right, and I, um, I don’t really want it to end, you know?”

You leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his nose. “I don’t plan on it ending, JJ. It’s you and me, remember?”

He did; he remembered the promise you made not long after you first met. It started off as a pack between friends, but it morphed into something deeper. You and him. If he had anything, he had that to hold on to.

“Yeah,” he whispered, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the ring he had stolen a while back with the intention of, one day, slipping it on your finger. Leaning back from you, he held up the ring between two fingers, letting the dainty silver shine in the growing moonlight. “You and me. Forever, maybe?”

It took a moment for realization to dawn on you, but it struck with force. Your eyes blew wide, and your mouth fell open in a humorous and bewildered laugh. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

JJ nodded, sheepishly using his free hand to scratch the back of his neck. “I probably should have gotten down on one knee, right? To be fair, it’s my first time.” He went to lower himself onto the dock, but you stopped him, cupping his face in your hands.

“And it’s perfect,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes. “I would love to marry you, JJ Maybank.”

He felt like he was going to cry too from the pure excitement and love that swelled inside his chest. Blinking back his own happy tears, he took your hand and slid the ring on your finger. It wasn’t some extravagant engagement ring, but it fit like a glove on your finger like it had been made for you. The smile on your face was enough confirmation that you liked it.

You kissed him, the warm metal of the ring pressed against his cheek. It was a feeling he was looking forward to getting used to. To kiss you forever, until you’re old and gray and yelling at kids to get off your lawn. JJ used to have a hard time looking past eighteen, trying to figure out what he’d become if he made it that far. Would he be locked up like every adult in his life used to tell him? Would he end up like his father or the man he used to think was his father?

But he didn’t have to worry anymore, about any of it. He made it past eighteen and a different path awaited him, a good one, a happy one.

#outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic

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heesimp · 1 day ago

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how would hyung line be with a younger gf who was a virgin ? :p

• heeseung is the one most excited that his girlfriend’s a virgin. probably knew about it since before they started dating and has secretly wanted to take it for so long. will also try to coax you into having sex with him when he’s eating you out or fingering you but ultimately waits until you’re ready, and he’s so smug about it too.

you’ll probably ask him to take it slow and to not make it hurt but he just laughs in your ear and says something like, “I can’t promise that” which makes your pussy clench. teaches you how good sex can feel.

• jay is ever the respectful gentleman but won’t tell you he’s excited that he’s gonna be the one to take your virginity. he builds it up too (I don’t think he would make a huge thing out of it but when you tell him you’re ready, jay wants to make sure he draws out your pleasure for as long as possible.

would probably be praising you the entire time, especially if you whine so much. lots of “hang in there, okay?” and “you can do it, honey. my cock’s gotta make you feel really good.”

• I think jake is also somebody who’d try to keep his cool and help you through it, but his eagerness shows up somewhere between heeseung and jay. jake would kinda rush through foreplay and would not allow himself to cum unless it was inside you.

he pushes his cock inside of you a little too early and loves it when you yelp and try to reach out and touch him. “so cute taking my cock like that,” he’d say when you squirm around him.

• sunghoon I could see either very sweet and patient or very filthy. on one hand, he loves you so much that he never wants to make you feel like you need to give it up for him until you say you’re ready, and he’s going slow by prepping your pussy with him mouth and fingers before sliding into you. hoon would say things like “you’re everything” and “breathe for me, baby.”

on the other, sunghoon would get so hard every time he remembers you’re a virgin. the first time he ever got the chance to stick his dick in your pussy was like a wet dream. the sight of his cock disappearing into your pussy was too much. lots of “my cock was made for you” and “can’t believe you’re not a virgin anymore” as if to mock you while he slides his dick in and out of you.

#enhypen smut #enha smut #jay smut #jongseong smut #heeseung smut #jake smut #sunghoon smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enha hard hours #enhypen x reader #enhypen hard hours #enha hard thoughts #hard thought

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unhelpfultarot · 2 days ago

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Hi, hello. I’m a long-time follower, first-time asker. I remember you saying you don’t really believe that divination works? I don’t know if that is still the case but, anyway, I respect it and just want to say that you, your efforts and time dedicated to this page are all valued here. The fact is you reach and help lots of people, not even just in (I’m assuming) your country. And it’s absolutely understandable if you need to take a break. But it’s also ok to change the “vibe” of the posts for however long. Yes, it is a funny page, and everyone appreciates that — but we’re all grieving and you can grieve here too. I hope this makes sense, I just woke up. Take care <3

My thinking is that there's nothing magical or supernatural about Tarot cards; they're just pictures on little pieces of paper. What they are is strong archetypal symbols, universal enough to apply to everybody, broad and general enough to have many possible meanings. Putting them together in combinations can spark ideas about all sorts of familiar situations. And human beings are very good at pattern recognition and storytelling, so when you put all that together, you can make connections that you otherwise might not think of. Or maybe acknowledge something that's been on your mind but you've been trying not to think about.

Or you can write silly descriptions of the normal ups and down of life, and then lots of people say "Whoa, that happened to you? That happened to me, too!" And then we all feel a little less alone.

I'm sure I will be back to posting, probably fairly soon. I'm unusually busy with some offline stuff lately (mostly positive, but time-consuming) but I miss being able to sit down quietly and shuffle my cards every day. And I miss feeling like I'm connected to my vast and faceless crowd of readers. I'm very fond of all of you out there, and hope you're doing well.

❤️

#tarot #not tarot #personal #it's so weird when I let myself remember that this absurd blog is the most successful thing I've ever done

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tojisun · 1 day ago

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sugar, spice, everything on ice (hockey au) - camgirl edi!

smut - voyeurism, porn watching, sharing, ambiguous ending; again, this is a non-canon part of sseoi! also ik this scenario is unrealistic but read for the vibes!!!

obsessed with this previous part posted, and can’t stop thinking about how the boys used to chirp at simon for calling his fave cam girl his girl, only for it to end there, anyway.

how johnny was the first to find out when he caught simon listening to your stream like it’s a fucking podcast while he was taping his stick.

it was still too early in the morning for practice, but simon had been out with a minor lower injury and no one was really shocked that he’s the first in the rink when he got his permission from their physio. it was nice to see their A excited to get back on ice because truthfully? they needed him back. the team wasn’t straggling by any means but there’s an obvious difference with simon out which was why johnny found himself just as excited when simon told the group chat the good news, bounding in early for the morning skate too.

there were soft murmurs slipping past the cracked door when he made his way, and johnny pushed through the entrance, expecting maybe someone else with riley — maybe their captain or their coach — but it’s just their A.

and his phone, at full volume and full brightness, showcasing a… porn?

amateur porn, from the looks of it.

“uh?” was all johnny could say.

simon looked up, not even really appearing to be mortified that johnny just walked in on him watching a porn live-stream; the healthy sheen on his face did not even break for an embarrassed blush and, really, johnny started wondering if there was something he was missing.

“hey, mate,” simon greeted, still unaffected and screw it, johnny decided to ignore the wet squelch coming from the phone to reach forward and clap his arms around his friend.

“good to see ye back, man,” johnny said, chuckling. simon rumbled a quiet laugh too, looking pretty pleased and at peace like there’s no raunchy moans rumbling from his speakers—

you know what? fuck it.

“so you pent up in a different way, or?” johnny asked, nodding at the phone.

simon blinked, brows wrinkling in confusion for a second, before clarity washed over him, so obvious that johnny could track the moment he remembered what he had been listening to before johnny walked in.

“oh,” he huffed, shoulders shaking in another burst of quiet chuckles. “y’ve got to see ‘er. fuckin’ beautiful, this one.”

that… was not what johnny expected but he dropped on the cubicle beside simon to peek at his screen. apparently, he glanced at the right time as he watched the way your cunt stretched around the girth of your vibrator, made of glass, and the image you made was so startlingly lewd that johnny couldn’t even help groaning in appreciation too.

simon grins with something akin to pride, like he was telling johnny, “see? what’d i tell you?”

johnny would forget about that day until simon’s blunder of using his public account to blast his feelings for you, his clearly-not-just-pure feelings, made national news. their poor PR and media intern were working overtime to fix simon’s mistake because of course simon did not stop at just retweeting your website’s link while professing how he’s never cum so hard for anyone. no, he had to take it a little farther — he mass liked about fifty posts that you have made in two months time in the span of the three hours since they’ve flown back from tampa.

it was hell; apparently his profile was so thoroughly linked to your own with how active he was within those three hours of liking everything he could, that they suggested he just delete his profile and start anew. johnny doubted he was going to, what with his brand deals and other things, but then you poked back at simon and simon was so enamoured that he just took off the rails and flirted with you publicly.

he was unbelievable. simon was horny and yearning — a weird mix, but one that… worked, apparently, because here you are now, standing before them, all pretty and breathtaking.

johnny can’t even deny that he’s not distracted because, well, because they’ve seen you.

naked.

and getting fucked to the point of snot and tears.

fuck, this was not an easy meet-and-greet.

it was difficult to not cross the line when chirping at simon about his new relationship but garrick had been firm with his reminder, staring them down with that downturned tilt of his lips that spoke of no-nonsense. and no one ever wants to disappoint their captain so they steered clear of the obvious, like the fact that they all, at one point, watched your videos because simon just wouldn’t shut up about you. he was damn near close to waxing poetry which would have been cute if, you know, simon did not sound like a pervert who’s clearly whipped for a stranger.

it was funny then. it’s downright petrifying now.

they know more about you than they wished they did, like the fact that your go-to toy when the ejaculating dragon one is in the ‘wash’ is that vibrating dildo that is probably half the girth of johnny’s arm which is to say that it’s fucking thick, but still, you were able to bully all of that in your pussy, whining and mewling, before fucking down on it so hard it was bulging out of the soft pudge of your belly. or how you like having your nipples clamped. or how you have such a thing for oral stuff that you’d deepthroat a dildo while bouncing on another one.

it was a whiplash, going from watching you touch yourself in ways unfathomable to seeing you in front of them, giggling as you and simon share quiet conversations like they’re some sacred things.

fuck.

not even kyle, with his big announcement, could fake normalcy because you were a locker room name. they’ve all recommended different videos to each other — hell, all of them are still in that group chat they made to share links with each other. sure, simon had created it but no one really put it to rest — messages like, “she got anything in [x] cosplay?” or, “saw a short clip of her rubbing her pussy on her washing machine in twitter, does anyone have the full ver?” were getting passed around.

you were the darling girl of the team, and now simon’s got you cuffed.

it was easy to pinpoint the source of tension — the guys want a taste.

johnny stares at you and simon, and the secretive little smiles and heated looks that the two of you are sharing with each other, and realizes that maybe, just maybe, they are allowed it.

#suns #simon ghost riley x reader #task force 141 x reader #simon riley x reader #f!reader #camgirl!reader #simon riley smut #hockey au

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archangeldyke-all · 3 days ago

Note

hi Angel!! Hope you are doing well (I know you are with the Sevika content)

I was thinking of Sevika w a girlfriend who LOVES to bite her like just “nom” any time they can (I suggest this because of the Caitlyn and Sevika moment yes)

heehhehehehhehehe micron i love u

men and minors dni

it's a good thing sevika likes being bit, because you just can't help yourself.

it's how you show affection, sometimes! or, even, if you're pissed you'll nip her to let her know. and fuck, how could you not wanna gnaw on her, when her muscles are so big and chew-able.

the only problem is, most of the time you end up turning sevika on, even if you don't really mean to.

she reaches across the table on your dinner date to wipe your mouth clean for you, and you'll nip her fingers in thanks; sevika ends up throwing a handful of coins on the table and dragging you out of the restaurant to get home.

she's being unreasonably bitchy to theiram after a bad day and you'll nip her earlobe to calm her down. it does more than calm her down though, and you guys end up making out at the bar.

if you ever need sevika to say yes to something, you just gotta give her a hickey. by the time you've sucked the bruise into her skin, sevika's putty in your hands, smiling drunkenly up at you andready to agree to anything you say.

"sevika, baby..." you coo, your thumb rubbing the hickey blossoming on her skin. "please come to the opera with me. when 're we ever gonna get the chance again? we can dress up nice, smoke a big joint on the way up, and pig out on all the nice appetizers and wine..."

"yeah, alright." sevika agrees happily, smiling up at you. "we're gonna find some dark corner to make out in though." she says. you grin and swoop down to kiss her again.

if you ever need her to relax, you pin her to the closest flat surface and start nibbling on her collarbones. she'll melt under your touch, and you'll start scratching at her scalp. when she finally lets out a gusty sigh, you can talk to her.

"what's goin' on, baby? you're all stressed."

"just... silco." she mumbles. you chuckle, nipping the tip of her nose. she smiles.

"dunno if you know this but... silco's not here." you tease her, gesturing out to you apartment. "he doesn't even have a key. you're safe here, baby." sevika rolls her eyes and bites your cheek, pulling you in for a hug.

and, best of all, if you need her desperate and begging for you all you have to do is really sink your teeth into her.

"'s cute how easy you are for me." sevika teases from above you.

you scowl and pout, and then smirk a bit when you remember your superpower. "c'mere." you demand, pulling sevika down.

when you sink your teeth into her shoulder, sevika collapses on top of you, her confidence and bravado evaporating with your teeth in her throat. she whimpers and whines, wiggling against you. "y-you're evil." she whines.

you giggle. "thought i was easy."

sevika just pouts, before shooting forward to kiss you again.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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aychama · 13 hours ago

Text

Bearer of the Red Crown's Birthday

"These pompous assholes." Narinder opened the door to escape outside and take a breather.

"They were never taught to shut the hell up were they?" He rubbed his temples and wondered why was their birthday gift to him was a headeache.

The calm but obnoxiously loud people inside the greathall had gathered to congradulate the King's birthday. Of course it was a big event and many of the nobles were attending. Some even travveled from the other kingdoms.

But to Narinder it was just a nuisance, just like how it was every year.

They had gathered to make connections, threaten eachother covertly or simply suck up to Narinder. He had to put up with these people and act like they wouldn't turn on him with the twirl of any one of his siblings finger.

He was just looking for a place to hide now but it seemed his hiding place was occupied by a slouched figure.

"Lambert?" Narinder noticed the figure in the corner next to the flower bushes.

"BAH!" They shout out a short bleat and turned towards him. Their funny noise and freaked out face was like a cold fresh water being splashed on Narinder's hot and aching head.

"My King! Please, you need to stop sneaking up on me..." Lambert sighed and got up.

Were they getting away from people too? That wasn't good. He had specifically told them to use this oppurtunity to make connections so they could have people helping them with their new lands troubles.

Just as he was about to start his lecture he noticed the neatly folded fabric in Lambert's hands.

"Is this..." he saw the little bow it was wrapped with.

A gift.

Lambert looked at the item in their hands, hesitated a little and presented it towards him.

"For you, yes."Narinder's fingers brushed Lambert's as he took it and started examining it. It was a red and white scarf.

"Aym and Baal said that you get cold easily so... I was actually going to knit it myself but it was way harder to do than I thought it would be. Haha..." They let out a defeated sigh hidden with a tired smile.

"I-it's not an expensive item I know but I-"

"It's made out of your wool." Narinder cut them off as he took off the bow and ran his fingers through the fabric. It was so, oh so soft. He didn't even have to bring his nose closer to it to know it smell like them.

"You can tell?" Lambert's face looked horrified, their smile dropping down as they looked up at him.

They suddenly reached out towards the scarf and started to pull it out of Narinder's hands.

"That's just weird isn't it? I-I knew it would be weird argh stupid Berith-"

"Wh- No!"Narinder did not let go of the scarf and it stretched between the two."Lambert no it's not weird." He looked at them hoping he sounded genuine.

"It's no secret that I like wool and this is perfect." Lambert stopped pulling and looked at Narinder, unsure.

He had gotten many presents today. So many that he lost count. So many things that he did not care. Jewelry, expensive items, some magical crystals, decorative weapons. Presents that were given to a King so that they wouldn't lose face or even worse, so that the noble families could look at eachother and say 'Look at how rich I am. The King surely likes me more than all of you so I can use him to scare you and get my way'. It was all so obvious and so shallow that he thought the amount of jewelry and necklaces were going to stuf his throat so much that he could drown without water.

But this,

This was from Lambert.

And it didn't have any underlying intentions.

Narinder slowly pulled the scarf from Lambert's hesitant hands.

"I remember reading a book when I was young."

He wrapped the scarf around his neck.

"It was about the culture of our folk."

He adjusted the scarf and both ends hung over his shoulders lovingly.

"And I remember reading that sheep-folk would give eachother gifts made out of their own wool to show their appreciation for eachother." He adjusted the scarf and looked at them to see the curiosity color their pretty face.

"Really?" Lambert asked and he nodded softly.

Narinder knew that Lambert wasn't taught of their own culture. It was...sad... but not unexpected. There wasn't really any sheep-folk in the 5 kingdoms other than them.

To think Shamura's old books he randomly decided to read would have a lot about sheep-folk in them. Too bad that wretched younger brother of his burnt down Shamura's library just because he was jealous Shamura would read books with Narinder... Narinder wishes that Shamura would have killed Leshy right then and there but they didn't. Soft hearted fool who went easy on all of their siblings but not on their enemies. And that included Narinder too.

Narinder shook his head to get rid of the hatred starting to boil up in his gut and focused on the scarf and Lambert. Their smell and their soft wool was all around him, quickly calming him down as he lowered his head to bury the bottom half of his face into the scarf.

He heard the softest giggle.

"You look silly."

Narinder opened his eyes, he didn't even know when he had closed them, and looked at Lambert.

They were smiling so soft and warmly at him. His throat clogged up again but he wasn't feeling bad this time.

"It's clashing with the rest of the jewelry badly."

He couldn't take his eyes off of Lambert's smile as they talked.

He thanked God that he always had his veil because he didn't think he could explain why he was looking at Lambert's smile like it was the only thing in the world.

"And it looks funny with your fancy clothes. Maybe I should have told Berith to make it look more expensive." Lambert laughed. If he could eat their voice he bet it would taste like fluffy candy, he thought.

The two heard some people talking about where the king has gone from inside and Narinder sighed.

Lambert reached towards Narinder's neck and tugged at the scarf.

"You need to go back in right? You can't just look like this in front of everyone. I'll put it next to the pile of gifts-"

He grabbed their arm and stopped them from taking the scarf.

"No." He said firmly.

"But-"

"Who said I would be going in alone? I remember telling a certain someone that they need to make connections because their poor decisions while ruling their own land had left them in a troubling state." He turned the conversation towards Lambert seemlessly to cover up whatever he was feeling right now.

"A-ah that! I have a little bit of a-no actually a big headache from talking with so many- soooo many people yknow?" Lambert stumbled over their words.

Narinder let the silence fall between them to show them he did not believe them.

"Let's go. I suppose I have to be the one to intruduce you to people." Narinder pulled Lambert by the arm that he had grabbed and walked towards the door.

"I'm- My King! You shouldn''t- you don't need to pull me!"

#narilamb #royal au #writings #cotl #cult of the lamb #aychama #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #mini fic #fluff #fanfiction

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omensandwonders · 2 days ago

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best friend!noah headcanons

a/n: not proofread word vomit i hit out in 15mins because FUCK i need a man like noah (if not noah) in my life

sfw:

♤ you guys probably met online through streaming or gaming, or maybe at a con who knows

♤ after a few months of friendship you moved in with noah and the boys

♤ life is chaotic but so much fun with them (i wouldnt be shocked if that house gets almost set on fire multiple times (has already happened on stream))

♤ late night gaming and deep talk sessions

♤ blasting music at full volume because why the hell would either of yall want to listen to your own thoughts HELL nah

♤ if you have long hair, he's stealing your hairties and clips. deal with it

♤ makes sure your favorite ice cream is always at the house

♤ even if you dont help him write music too often, you usually just lounge around somewhere in the background while he works, ready to give feedback when he wants it

♤ im coping ik BUT HES THE PERFECT CUDDLE BUDDY. istg look at him he is BUILT to cuddle and be cuddled-

♤ a hug from him would fix me

♤ sorry im getting off track

♤ if you havent seen star wars, hes forcing you into a marathon

♤ late night horror movie marathons

♤ within days of living with each other yall catch each other staring. regularly (i mean i would tf)

nsfw:

♤ the sexual tension rises until it finally snaps one night when the other boys are out and you both smoked a joint together

♤ long story short yall end up on his bed, clinging to each other and lazily fucking the night away, limbs tangled and hands grabbing whatever they could reach

♤ after that, his casual touches increase ten fold, gently grabbing your hips to pass by you, putting an arm around your waist or shoulder, holding your hand to pull you through crowds

♤ LOTS of jealousy sex

♤ youre not dating, but a guy flirts with you? even worse, you give him his number? the second youre home youre getting bent in half and pounded through the mattress

"gonna fuck that attitude out of you, make you remember who you belong to- even if you dont, that fuckin pussy will, gonna ruin you for anybody else-"

♤ would fuck you on every surface in both of your rooms

♤ eats you out on the couch, casually rubbing lazy circles on your clit while watching a movie, grinding into you first thing in the morning when he wakes up

♤ kinda perverted with it, grabbing a handful of your ass when nobodys looking

#bad omens #bad omens smut #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian #word vomit #he would fix me #i just know it #sigh

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isak-dot-gov · 2 days ago

Text

Breaking Point

Pairing: (Platonic) Uconn wbb team x Manager!Reader

Word count: 1508

My Masterlist :)

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

The sun had set hours ago, casting the campus in soft hues of blue and purple as the last traces of daylight slipped away. Inside the UConn basketball facility, the lights were still on, illuminating the court and the offices where the team’s dedicated manager, you, sat hunched over a desk cluttered with schedules, practice plans, and game itineraries. Your fingers flew across your laptop, finalising details for the next week’s practices, making sure every tiny element was in place.

You had been doing this for hours—days, really. Balancing all the responsibilities of being the team’s manager was a full-time job in itself, but you never complained. You loved the team, loved the feeling of being part of something bigger than yourself. Every game plan, every practice schedule was a chance for you to make their lives easier, more organised, to ensure they could focus on playing and winning.

But tonight felt different. Tonight, the weight of everything seemed to press down on your chest a little harder than usual. Your eyes were heavy, your brain foggy from lack of sleep. You couldn’t remember the last time you had taken a real break, the last time you had eaten something that wasn’t a quick snack between tasks.

As you rubbed your temples, trying to push through the mounting exhaustion, you heard footsteps approaching. The team had just finished a late-night practice, and a few of the players—Azzi, Paige, and Aaliyah—walked over, towels draped around their necks, sweat still clinging to their skin.

“Still working?” Paige asked, her tone light but concerned as she glanced at the stack of papers on your desk. “You’ve been at it for hours.”

You forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, just trying to make sure everything’s ready for next week. There’s a lot to get done.”

Azzi frowned, her sharp eyes narrowing in on the dark circles under your eyes. “You need to take a break. You’ve been running yourself into the ground lately.”

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, brushing off their concern. “Really. I just have a few more things to finish, and then I’ll be done.”

Aaliyah stepped closer, her brow furrowed with worry. “You’ve been saying that for days. When was the last time you actually did something for yourself? Ate a real meal? Slept more than a few hours?”

Her words stung a little, not because they were harsh, but because they were true. But there was no time to think about yourself right now. The team needed you. They relied on you to keep everything running smoothly, and you couldn’t let them down.

“I’ll take a break once I’m done,” you muttered, turning back to your laptop, trying to dismiss the conversation.

But Paige wasn’t having it. “Come on, seriously. We appreciate everything you do for us, but you can’t keep going like this. It’s not healthy.”

You felt your pulse quicken at her words, a strange mix of guilt and frustration building up inside you. You knew they were trying to help, but the thought of stepping away, of not getting everything right, sent a wave of anxiety through you.

“I can’t stop right now,” you said, your voice a little sharper than you intended. “I’m almost done, I just need—”

“You need a break,” Azzi cut in firmly, crossing her arms. “You’re not helping anyone if you burn yourself out.”

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to argue anymore without snapping. “I’ll be fine. I just need to finish this.”

The team exchanged worried glances, but reluctantly stepped back, giving you space. They could see you were overwhelmed, but they also knew you were stubborn when it came to taking care of the team. They’d have to try again later.

Once they left, you exhaled, trying to refocus. Your hands trembled slightly as you typed, exhaustion making it harder to concentrate. But you pressed on, determined to get everything perfect. The team depended on you for this, and there was no room for mistakes.

But then, in your haze of exhaustion and stress, something slipped.

You didn’t notice it at first. You finished typing up the practice schedule, sent it off, and leaned back in your chair, rubbing your tired eyes. But as you scrolled back through the document to double-check the details, your heart dropped.

The times were wrong.

The schedule you had just sent out—the one for the entire next week of practice—was completely off. The gym had been booked for the wrong hours, and now it would overlap with another team’s time slot. There was no way to fix it without completely reworking the entire plan, calling the facility to reschedule, contacting the other team…

Panic began to rise in your chest, a suffocating wave of anxiety crashing over you. Your breath hitched, your vision blurring as the weight of everything you’d been holding together started to unravel. You could feel your heartbeat quicken, pounding in your ears. This mistake—it wasn’t something small. It was huge, and it would mess up the team’s entire week of preparation.

You couldn’t let them down like this. Not after everything you’d worked so hard for. Not when they were counting on you.

But your hands wouldn’t stop shaking. You tried to type, tried to fix the mistake, but your fingers fumbled over the keys, and the screen swam in front of you. Tears pricked at your eyes, and you gasped for air, your chest tightening as the panic took hold.

You were spiralling.

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the haze. “Hey, what’s going on?”

It was Paige. She must have come back to check on you. Before you could even respond, she was at your side, her eyes widening in alarm as she saw the state you were in.

“Guys! Come here, quick!” Paige called out, and within seconds, Azzi, Aaliyah, and Nika rushed over, their faces filled with concern.

You were shaking, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you tried to explain what had happened, but the words wouldn’t come out. Your chest felt like it was caving in, and you couldn’t think straight. The room felt too small, too overwhelming.

“I messed up… I messed up everything…” you choked out, tears spilling down your cheeks. “The schedule… it’s all wrong. I’ve ruined everything for the team…”

Paige crouched down beside you, her voice calm but firm. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out, alright? Just breathe.”

Azzi knelt on your other side, her hand gently resting on your back. “You’re not alone in this. We’re here. We’ll fix it together.”

You shook your head, the panic still gripping you tightly. “But I—”

“Shhh,” Aaliyah interrupted softly, crouching in front of you, her voice gentle. “You’ve done so much for us. You don’t have to carry all of this on your own. We’ve got your back, just like you always have ours.”

Nika handed you a water bottle and knelt beside you, her voice soothing. “Take a deep breath, alright? In and out. You’re not going to fix anything by pushing yourself this hard.”

As their words slowly broke through the panic, you focused on their presence—on the warmth of their hands, the softness in their voices. Gradually, your breathing slowed, the tightness in your chest easing as you tried to ground yourself.

Paige gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve been going non-stop for too long. We can handle a mistake. You’re allowed to be human.”

You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. “I just… I didn’t want to let you down.”

Azzi smiled softly, brushing a tear from your cheek. “You could never let us down. You’re the heart of this team, and we need you to take care of yourself just as much as you take care of us.”

Aaliyah nodded in agreement. “Exactly. You’ve been doing more than enough. Let us help you.”

The weight that had been pressing down on your chest finally started to lift as you realised they were right. You didn’t have to be perfect all the time. The team loved you for who you were, not just for what you did for them.

With their support, you slowly stood up, still shaky but feeling a little steadier. Nika handed you a towel to wipe your face, and Paige slung an arm around your shoulders.

“Now, we’re gonna get you out of here,” Paige said firmly. “You’re taking the night off. No arguments.”

Azzi nodded, a playful smile on her lips. “Yeah, we’ll fix the schedule in the morning. Right now, you’re going to rest.”

And for the first time in a long while, you didn’t argue. You let them take care of you, just like you had always taken care of them. You weren’t in this alone, and that realisation brought a sense of relief you hadn’t known you needed.

As they led you out of the gym, you knew you would be okay. You had your team—your family—by your side. And together, you could face anything.

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

#uconn wbb #wbb #the judgement day #nika muhl x reader #inês bettencourt x reader #kk arnold x reader #paige bueckers #nika mühl #azzi fudd #azzi x reader

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stvrnioloslvt · 2 days ago

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stripes and polo's - Matt Sturniolo

genre: fluff / t.w: none

—★—

"i don't know what to wear..." you sigh throwing your phone on the bed, your friend on speaker.

"well, why don't you take something from matt's wardrobe? you only need a shirt anyway." you look around matt's room, checking to see if he has any spare shirts on the loose. however, it seemed that he had cleaned the whole room that morning, leaving it spotless and tidy.

"i can't exactly ask him, he's streaming with chris"

"and? just take one now and tell him later. i'm sure he won't mind, he has a thing for you in his clothes"

"that's not true," you mumbled, a rosy blush tinting your cheeks. you knew that your friend wasn't wrong, but it felt so wrong admitting that your childhood best friend had some sort of interest in you...and you did too.

"yeah yeah, if that helps you sleep at night..."

you ignore her remarks, digging through matt's clothes until you found something that caught your eyes: in the middle of black t-shirts, grey sweaters and an overall basic wardrobe, there was a striped polo hidden at the back of the drawer. you pulled it out, turning it around to check for any holes or stains.

"i think i found something," you announced to your friend, putting the polo on. it didn't fit you perfectly, as it was bigger than your shirts, but you didn't mind at all. you rose your hands to your face, smelling matt's familiar scent on the shirt, relishing in the comfort of one of your favourite people.

"i'm hanging up, i'll go tell him that i took his shirt. meet you up in ten minutes, yeah?"

"sure thing, love. see you in ten," and just like that, your friend had hung up.

you glanced at yourself in the mirror one last time, fixing your hair with your hands. you took your phone from the bed and exited matt's room, walking up the stairs to chris's room. as you got closer, you heard loud and clear the two boys screaming at each other, laughing at something stupid chris said.

your hand grabbed the knob, pulling it and entering the room just as chris started addressing the chat again. "chat, matt's type is the who would pull off man's polo's, i'm telling you." his wholehearted laugh died as soon as you came into view, his face falling into one of pure surprise. he mirrored matt's expression, eyes wide and open mouths as you made sure that you weren't completely visible for the viewers. a little bit of the polo's sleeve was in view, enough to make the chat explode with comments.

you blushed as you realised how terribly timed your appearance was, and how badly matt's reaction had affected you. he eyed you up and down, slowly, taking in each by each of your body, mindlessly reaching out to you, pulling you closer. your heart drummed harshly against your ribcage, trying to escape its home.

"matt-" you called out anxiously, trying to pull him out of his mind, reminding him that there were thousands of viewers who were waiting for his next move, observing like hawks looking for their next prey.

"you look...good," he breathed out, smiling softly at you. behind him, chris was frantically trying to cover up the scene that was unfolding in front of everybody's eyes.

"thank you," you whispered, "do you mind if i borrow this one for the evening? i'm meeting up with a friend of mine."

"go on, sweetheart, it's all yours."

you smiled, turning to leave the room. just as you were exiting, chris read one of the comments: "someone wrote 《matt should teach us how to manifest quickly, cause that shit was crazy》 and i couldn't agree more."

"what are you talking about, that's my best friend..." but even as he tried to hide his blush, it was clear that behind his hand there was a big smile plastered on his face.

who knew, maybe in the future things would change.

©stvrnioloslvt

hello everybody! hope you liked it, let me know if you'd like a part 2. also, would y'all like a tag list?

remember that my asks/requests are always open, i'd love to get to know you guys!

thank you.

love you all,

-bree♥︎

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt stuniolo fanfic #sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fluff #matt x reader #matt x y/n #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew bernard sturniolo #© stvrnioloslvt #writing

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endangeredrandomfanfics · 2 days ago

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"A Song to Gather Witches"

Taglist- @skittlebum @circe143 @quailbagutte

Summary: You've got your powers Agatha found a way to make them useful for your cons scamming gig, this time you've witnessed her do it draining witches seeing her purple -Chapter IV

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

===============================

The saloon was dimly lit, filled with the smell of smoke and aged wood, the murmur of voices and clinking glasses creating a lively atmosphere. Amidst the crowd, the young reader sat on a small stage, their fingers hovering over a dusty piano as they glanced around, gauging the room. They could feel the quiet hum of their mother’s magic, woven into the air like a whisper, guiding them toward their purpose tonight.

Just before leaving that morning, Agatha had leaned in, her eyes sparkling with pride and a hint of mischief. “Remember, my love,” she’d murmured, brushing a stray hair from their forehead. “Tonight, we need the song to travel—so that the right ears might hear it.”

And so, here they were, under the warm glow of candlelight, ready to sing the melody they’d written together: Witches’ Road. They knew the song by heart, every note and word crafted to call out, inviting magic-seekers toward its ancient lure. The piano keys felt cool beneath their fingers as they began to play, the haunting melody weaving through the saloon.

As their voice joined the music, soft and sure, conversations began to quiet. Heads turned, listening as the words drifted through the room.

"There's a road that's wild and wicked, winding through the wood

Where all that's wrong is right and all that's bad is good

Through many miles of tricks and trials, we wander high and low

Tame your fears, a door appears, the time has come to go…"

Their voice was filled with a subtle magic, a lure that pulled at hearts and minds, drawing listeners into the mystery of the song. Eyes watched them with fascination, some captivated, others with an uneasy curiosity. As the song reached its chorus, a few women near the back exchanged glances, leaning in closer, their interest piqued.

"Down, down, down the road

Down the witches' road

Down, down, down the road

Down the witches' road

Down, down, down the road

Down the witches' road

Follow me, my friend

To glory and the end…"

When the final note lingered, fading into the air, there was a soft hush in the room, broken only by scattered murmurs. The women from the back made their way forward, curiosity gleaming in their eyes.

One of them, a tall woman with silver-streaked hair, gave the reader a long, assessing look. “That’s a peculiar tune for someone so young,” she said, her voice low but warm. “Where’d you learn a song like that?”

The reader met her gaze with innocent wonder, tilting their head as if the question surprised them. “It’s… something I came up with myself,” they said, keeping their tone light, humble, even a bit shy. “I’ve always been drawn to magic, to the mysteries and stories of witches. But it’s hard to learn when no one is willing to teach.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, and the others exchanged whispers. “You’re… self-taught?” another asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

They nodded. “But it’s not enough. I’ve been looking for someone who could show me the true path—a real mentor.” The reader’s voice took on a slight note of longing, one that Agatha had coached them to use, and they cast their gaze down, as though a little shy showing a subtle colored little spark from her hands.

The silver-haired woman’s expression softened as she looked at the reader, her curiosity turning to something else—a hint of sympathy, perhaps. She glanced at her companions before giving a slight nod. “Come with us,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “If you’re serious about seeking the path, I believe we may be able to help.”

The reader smiled, a small, grateful smile, and slid down from the piano bench. They followed the woman and her companions out of the saloon and into the quiet night, their pulse quickening as they thought of Agatha, waiting in the forest.

As they walked, the reader could feel the air changing, a faint vibration in the earth beneath their feet. Magic was gathering, old and powerful, drawn by the song and by the reader’s carefully spoken words. They kept their face calm, nodding along as the women spoke in low voices about the “Witches’ Road” and its history, speculating about how such a young soul could know a song like that.

After a while, they reached a clearing, surrounded by tall trees whose branches stretched up toward the star-filled sky. The witches turned to face the reader, their expressions serious.

“We don’t usually take to strangers, especially ones as young as you,” the silver-haired woman said, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “But something about you is… different. There’s a power in you that feels older than your years.”

The reader met her gaze, giving a small, earnest nod. “Thank you for trusting me. I promise, I’m ready to learn.”

Just as the woman was about to reply, a soft rustling sounded from the shadows, and the air grew thick with tension. One by one, the women turned, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. The shadows deepened, twisting and stretching as if alive, and from the darkness, Agatha emerged, her silhouette outlined against the moonlight, her eyes gleaming with a fierce intelligence.

The witches took a step back, their expressions shifting from curiosity to alarm.

“You’re… you’re her mother?” one of them whispered, looking at Agatha with dawning recognition.

Agatha smiled, a calm, knowing smile, and nodded. “Indeed. And you were kind enough to keep my little one company tonight.” Her voice was smooth, filled with a dark charm that held them in place, even as they sensed the danger.

The silver-haired woman’s expression hardened, realizing the trap too late. “This was a setup,” she hissed, her voice low with anger.

Agatha tilted her head, her gaze unyielding. “I never said it wasn’t.”

Without another word, she raised her hand, and a dark mist coiled around her fingers, crackling with a subtle, sinister power. The witches tried to resist, casting protective spells and trying to break free, but Agatha’s magic was stronger—each spell they cast was met with a swift, effortless counter. She moved gracefully, almost as though she were dancing, drawing power from them, siphoning their magic as they struggled.

The reader watched, both awed and unnerved. They knew what their mother was capable of, but witnessing her in action, surrounded by these powerful witches who had no chance against her, was something different entirely.

As the last of the coven fell to the ground, drained and silent, Agatha turned to them, her eyes softening as she approached. She brushed a strand of hair from their face, her expression filled with warmth and pride.

“You did perfectly, my love,” she murmured, her voice a gentle contrast to the fierce power they had just witnessed. “Just as I knew you would.”

They looked up at her, a small, relieved smile breaking through. “It worked,” they whispered, the weight of the night’s events settling over them. “They really believed I needed their help.”

Agatha smiled, pride shining in her eyes. “That’s because you have the heart of a true witch—clever, resourceful, and far stronger than most would ever guess. You’re learning fast.”

But even as her words brought comfort, a pang of guilt stirred in the reader’s heart. “Mama… I didn’t know it would feel like this.” They looked at the fallen witches, an uncertain shadow crossing their face. “What if they… what if they didn’t deserve it?”

Agatha knelt down, her expression softening as she took their hands in hers. “Listen to me, my love. Those who would harm us, or stand in the way of what we need, they give us no choice. This is the path we walk, and it’s a path not everyone can understand.”

The reader nodded, letting her words sink in, though the weight still lingered.

Seeing their unease, Agatha cupped their cheek, a tender smile playing on her lips. “You have a compassionate heart, my dear one, and that is a gift. But there are times we must be strong and unyielding to protect what’s ours.” She stroked their cheek. “Trust in your strength, and trust that you were right to call them to us. You did nothing wrong.”

With Agatha’s reassurances, the reader felt a calm settle over them, a reminder of their purpose and the bond they shared with her. They walked together back through the forest, the night quiet around them, the stars gleaming overhead. As they walked, Agatha began to hum the familiar melody, and the reader joined her, their voices mingling softly as they sang together.

"There's a road that's wild and wicked, winding through the wood..."

Their voices blended, filling the night air with the haunting, beautiful song, a mother and child bound by love, secrets, and a strength that would see them through any trial ahead.

===============================

A/n: Comment?,👀😩🖐🏻, I'm bored and lacking motivation for this

#agatha all along #agatha all along x reader #agatha harkness #bridget hearts x reader #agatha coven of chaos #agatha harkness x reader #agathario #rio vidal x reader #agatha x rio #rio vidal #witches road #marvel

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redroomreflections · 3 days ago

Text

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

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha x you #natasha romanov #afamilyofherownau

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stevenose · 2 days ago

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for anonymous - thank you for voting!!! hope you like this hehe <3

contains: love drunk!steve; gender unspecified reader; flirting; s4!steve

He’s practically drooling. If he were someone else, he would call himself pathetic - even if he knows he is. Steve licks his lips, watching you reach high for a tape, your shirt riding up a little.

“Are you serious?”

He can’t hear Robin, or maybe he just doesn’t want to. Loves her, but pretty boy duty calls.

“Steve!”

“Huh?” he finally asks, turning to face her.

“Have you even heard a single thing I’ve said in the last —“ She checks her watch. “Three minutes?”

“You were talking for three minutes?” he asks, startled.

“Oh my God, Steve.” She’s pissed. And he feels bad, but he knows she’ll be fine in five minutes, and probably even better if he fucks up while checking you out at the counter. “You’re such a bonehead.”

He rolls his eyes and looks back at you. You’re looking at him, all amused. He feels so deeply seen, like you shouldn’t even be looking at him, like he doesn’t really deserve the attention.

“Sorry,” you say. Your voice sounds so sweet. “I just haven’t heard someone say ‘bonehead’ in a while.”

“He is,” Robin says flatly.

You smile at him and his knees feel weak. “I’m sure.”

You continue browsing. Robin looks at Steve. “You are a bonehead,” she affirms, grabbing a cart of tapes to put them away.

Steve feels all dizzy. He’s seen hot people in the store, but this is different. You’re straight out of a dream. He doesn’t know how he hasn’t seen you before. You’re about his age, but he doesn’t remember you from high school. Not that three concussions haven’t ruined his memory.

He perks up when you come to check out. Steve has no small talk in his mind for your selections. His brain feels frozen and it reminds him of his time at Scoops a year earlier.

“Do I know you?” he asks. It comes out awkwardly.

“I don’t think so,” you say. “I’m just - I’m here visiting some family, and I have to babysit.” You point at the two animated movies you’d chosen. “So, no, I don’t think so.”

“Babysit?” he says. “I babysit, too.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“Yeah,” he says. Now he’s spitballing. “They’re little shits though. Always dragging me into things I don’t want dragged into. But they’re sweet, I guess. Except one of them.”

You nod politely.

He wants to hang himself with film strips.

“Well, if I need help, I’ll definitely call you.”

Finally, an opening. “You’d need my number to do that, huh?”

Now you’re frazzled. Thank God. “I guess so.”

“How long are you in town for?”

You bite your cheek. “Another week.”

Steve hums. “I say we take our kids, drop ‘em off at the arcade, and head to the movies ourselves.”

You laugh, looking at him like he’s crazy. Your eyes are soft, though, and your smile is genuine. “Seems irresponsible.”

“Self indulgent, maybe.”

You stare at him for a moment longer before realizing you need to pay. You mumble and search your bag for your wallet, sliding a five across the counter. “Sorry,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m a little frazzled.”

“I have that effect on people.” Oh, he’s so back. He grabs your change, slipping it back to you.

“Want your receipt?”

You read between the lines. “Sure.”

He grins and snatches the paper from the register, scrawling his number across the top. He writes his name before realizing he never said it out loud. “Oh! I’m Steve, by the way.”

You give him yours and take the receipt from him. “Nice to meet you.”

He nods, waves as you leave, heart thumping. He collapses against the counter once you’re out of sight, head in his hands.

“A week,” Robin says, startling him. “You gonna have a whirlwind romance or something?”

“Maybe,” he says.

She scoffs. “You’ve been watching too many movies.”

#category: blurbs #the one he doesn’t like is mike btw. i know they beef

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moody-alcoholic · 3 days ago

Text

These Violent Delights

Chapter 15 - Heal My Wounds

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 5.6k words. It's the all hurt no comfort chapter.

CW: a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes, VERY HEAVY HURT/ little bit of comfort, miscarriage, medical inaccuracies (omega's body is all kinds of fucked up, more about that later on™), ectopic pregnancy, lot’s of pain, mentions of death, nightmares, panic attacks, angst, depression, mental health.

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy!

You’re running. You don’t know where you’re going as you sprint into the woods, and you don’t care. You don’t care how long you need to run for, you just want to get away, away from your pack.

They said they would save her. They failed.

You’re running as fast as you can, ignoring the pain burning through your body. You will have ripped stitches for sure, but you don’t care. The rain is cold on your hot skin. There’s a deep pain in your body, throbbing with each pound of your feet on the ground.

You don’t care. You deserve the pain.

You’re deep in the forest now. You can hear people calling for you. It’s dark and you managed to give them the slip. You trip over some roots putting out your arms to stop you from slambing painfully on the forest floor. Your neck throbs. You use your hands pushing your chest up off the ground.

Pain radiates through your body. You stand up using a tree to support you. There are voices getting closer, and you can see lights shining. They must have flashlights. You don’t want to see them. You take a step forward. Pain shoots through your body, you push on anyway.

You can’t keep going for much longer. It feels like someone is stabbing you in the abdomen. You press your hand on it to quell the pain, but it’s not helping. Reaching up, you feel the bandage on your neck is almost ripped off, and now it's catching your hair. You rip it off, your fingers getting coated in blood. You’ve definitely torn stitches.

You keep moving until you’re gasping for air, your lungs burning. The pain is too much, and you collapse against a tree, gripping it for support. You can’t hear their voices any more. Maybe you’ve run far enough. You cry out as you force your body to move. You think you can see a road through the trees. Maybe you’ll be able to find someone to give you a ride somewhere, anywhere away from here.

Each step is painful, and the rain is heavier. The closer you get to the opening you see that it’s definitely a road. You can see the shiny flat concrete. You climb up the embankment on your hands and knees. It takes all your energy, and when you make it up you lean against the guard rail. You take a second to look up. You can’t see stars, there are too many rain clouds. You sit there shivering as your panting becomes shallow breaths again.

She’s dead. Dr. Piper is dead.

You don’t have time to mourn. The stabbing pain comes back with a vengeance causing you to cry out, gripping your stomach. It feels like someone is stabbing you over and over again. It can’t be good. You don’t have time to worry about it though. You need to get away. Maybe if you follow the road you might find your way to a building or a person.

You remember the drive with Kate but you don’t know which direction to start in. You’re all turned around. The road bends ahead of you, and you decide that’s the best way to go as long as you’re not going backwards. You straighten up your body and go to take a step forward.

There’s pain, so much pain.

You close your eyes, gritting your teeth. You deserve this. John should have done the swap, then Dr. Piper would have been alive. You deserve this pain. You bend forward, your hand gripping the cold metal of the guardrail.

“Over here!” you hear Kyle's voice shouting. Fuck, you have to move now. You don’t want to see them, you don’t want to be near them. You press forward trying to use the guardrail to support you. It’s going to end soon and then you will have to let go. You let out a pained groan as you force your body to stand up.

You give yourself a second to breathe. Something's very wrong. This pain is not normal. It’s worse than anything you have ever experienced before. You take a few shaky steps, and you turn to see lights flashing through the trees. Someone calls your name. You have to move.

You cry through the pain willing your body to go forward with everything you have. Where’s the rush of adrenaline when you need it? It’s too much though. Your body is shaking, radiating with pain and before you know it you sink to your knees.

You kneel there in the wet mud, “move!” You grit between your teeth, you have to get away. They let Dr. Piper die. You don’t want to see them. You can’t though, your body feeling like a lead weight. You’re drenched and shivering.

Maybe this is it. Maybe you deserve this. Karma or something. You hear noises behind you, and you can see lights shining as you sit back on your knees.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Kyle says as he kneels down next to you. You turn using the last of your energy to fight him. He’s pulling his jacket off trying to throw it over you while you push him back. He’s stronger than you and you’re in pain. You scoot backwards trying to kick him.

You don’t want to see anyone. A surge of adrenaline hits you and you jump up on your feet.

“Go away!” you snap. Your head is starting to swim. You walk backwards looking at them. You can hear a car, and then next thing you know the truck you took with Kate is here.

“Take it easy,” Kyle says, trying again to grab you. Another pain radiates through you and you cry out, falling back to your knees. You hear more voices and boots in the mud as you double over in pain again.

“What’s wrong?” That's Johnny’s voice. He kneels down too, his hands pressing on your shoulders. More lights, and you see John jog over. You don't have the energy to fight them, you relent looking between the lights up at Kyle.

“Kyle,” you sob, reaching for him. He grabs your hand, and you fall into his chest.

“Yeah, you’re okay,” he says, wrapping his arms around you.

“Hurts,” you sob, gripping your stomach. You don’t get time to register his reaction before another pain shoots through you. More voices, more lights. You grit your teeth moaning out as you’re lifted up off the ground. Your body is shaking as you’re carried into the back of a truck and laid out on a bench.

“That’s a lot of blood,” someone says. You feel movement, the truck is moving. Your head is swimming.

“Where does it hurt lass?” Johnny asks as you start to lose your grip on consciousness. Someone presses a bandage to your neck. There are other hands running over your body, pulling your shirt up, pressing on your legs and arms. Everything hurts.

You move your hands down your stomach to your lower body. You don’t have the energy to talk. You press your hand on your abdomen, and it makes you yelp in pain. Someone's hand is on your head brushing your hair. You can smell beta in the air.

You're rolled over onto your side. Warm hands running down your back. Something feels wrong. Something deep inside you. Maybe you're dying of a broken heart. You’ve read about that in stories, when people lose someone they love.

It doesn't matter anyway. You don't deserve to be here. Dr. Piper is dead. John should have done the swap. Then she would still be alive.

“Shite,” there’s a fist banging on metal that makes you jump.

“Price, she needs a hospital!” Johnny calls. You close your eyes, you're in too much pain.

“Don’t close your eyes, c’mon stay awake.” Kyle shakes your shoulders. You open your eyes again as you're rolled onto your back. Kyle looks down at you. You smile at him, your eyes feeling heavy again. He shakes you again calling your name. Your eyes snap open for a second, but you can't stay awake though. You close your eyes one last time and drift into unconsciousness.

…

When you wake, there’s beeping. There are bright lights above you, and there’s something on your face. It’s cold. You reach up to pull it off, even that hurts. In your whole body there's a deep throbbing pain. The beeping makes your head pound.

There is so much pain, in your muscles, in your chest. You take a breath and it makes you wince.

Something is wrong, something's very wrong. You’ve never felt like this before.

“Leave it on, love. You need it.” It’s Johnny. His hand comes up to yours pushing the mask back over your nose. Cold air blows on your face. You look around the room. Everything is just a blur of colours and shapes. The voices are echoing, as Johnny’s warm hand rubs your arm. You look down, you're in a bed. You can smell the disinfectant, and there’s a tube coming off your hand. You’re in the hospital.

You see Kyle standing in the doorway of the room looking out into the hall. You feel the dull throbbing get stronger.

“Where are we?” you ask, your throat raw. It’s barely words.

“Canada, we’re at a hospital.” You’re getting sleepy again. Canada is above the US right? You can’t remember. You let out a sigh closing your eyes.

“Just rest, we’ll be out of here soon,” he says.

…

When you open your eyes again, Simon is by your side. There is still a dull throbbing pain, and your body feels heavy. Your neck hurts as you turn it, gritting your teeth, and a groan leaves your throat. Simon seems to hear you straight away, opening his eyes and leaning forward in the chair.

You don’t know what to say.

"How are you feeling?” he asks. You don't say anything. He lets out a long sigh.

“Is she really dead?” you ask. Maybe it was just a dream and you made it all up. You know Simon will be straight with you. He looks at you right in your eyes. He looks sad. You don’t think you have ever seen him sad. He just nods. Tears come and you turn away.

It’s not a dream, it's a horrible reality. You’ve been here before, but this time it's different.

Your alpha did this. He promised he would save her. He lied. The one person who is supposed to protect you and be there for you through everything. He let her die.

“I can get John,” he says. You hear him shuffle in the chair.

“No,” you sob. “I don’t want to see him.”

He promised you he would save her. Now she’s dead. You squeeze your eyes closed.

You can’t believe she’s dead.

…

The next time you wake you hear quiet mumbles. You look up seeing John talking to what looks like a doctor. You turn your head. Johnny’s holding your hand.

“Hey, how ya feeling, lass?” he asks with a smile on his face. You don’t know how you feel. Numb? Pain, you know you’re in pain, you feel it. Your stomach hurts but you bring your hand up to your neck. There’s no bandage anymore. The wound is healed. You can feel the small raised scar.

You take your hand from Johnny pulling the blanket down. You’re in another hospital gown, you don’t care, you pull it to the side. There’s a scar just above your hip. You sit up, looking at John who’s stopped his conversation to look over at you.

Johnny’s hand is on your back, the doctor—nurse—you don’t care is looking at you with sympathy in her eyes. The pain is dulled. They’ve been giving you pain killers. Your wounds are healing. You look at Johnny. You can smell him trying to comfort you. Your lip quivers. You know what’s happened. They don’t need to explain it.

“I'm sorry,” Johnny says, standing up and wrapping his arms around you. You let him pull you into his arms as you sob.

You failed. Your only job is to have babies and you can’t even do that. Your body throbs. You feel sick but Johnny doesn’t let you go, holding you tight and shushing you through the sobs. You hear the room door close and you break from his arms.

John is standing at the end of the bed. You don’t want to see him, you don’t want him to even be in the same room as you. Johnny seems to sense the tension in the air as he looks between you both. He picks your hand up again.

“I’m so sorry—” You put your hand up stopping him. You don’t want to hear his apologies. He lets out a sigh hanging his head. You force yourself to look up at him, you force yourself to hold back the tears. You look at him until you can’t hold back anymore, and you hang your head.

He let you down. He let Dr. Piper die. Now you’ve let him down. Maybe it’s what you deserve. Karma or something.

You lay back in the bed looking at the ceiling. Tears run down your face. You’re so sick of crying. Johnny squeezes your hand. You turn your head looking over at him. He looks at you with those wide blue eyes. You hear the room door open and close again. Johnny’s hand comes up to stroke your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear.

You close your eyes again. You try to imagine the house on the hill, the pies, the warm summer evening, the lake. You can’t, your mind goes blank. There’s no safe space anymore. No place you can go in your mind anymore.

It’s just empty.

There is no light, only darkness. There’s nothing. It’s like being back in the bunker.

There’s no time anymore. You don’t move, you can barely think. What do you think about? The fact that you had a miscarriage or the fact that Dr. Piper is dead.

There’s pain, dull throbbing, the methodical thump of your broken heart. The pain down your spine you get from each turn of your head. The deep ache in your abdomen.

You don't remember much from the hospital. You do remember never being alone. You would wake up to someone always by your side. The bewildered doctor tried to explain what happened on the day you were discharged.

Ectopic pregnancy. You had never heard about it before. The working theory is that your forced heat caused the embryo to implant near your cervix. You didn't understand much but you listened as she did her best to comfort you.

She was blonde too, like Dr. Piper, soft spoken with cool hands. She kept telling you it wasn't your fault. You didn't believe her. Who else’s fault would it be? You failed as an omega, and now you have to endure the pain.

At least with the pain it's something physical, reminding you that you’re still alive. Not like the dreams, nightmares, the blood, so much blood. You didn’t think it was possible to lose that much blood. Dr. Piper covered in blood, you covered in blood. You can smell it. When you wake up thick with sweat you could swear for a few seconds it’s real and you’re dripping in blood.

You don’t remember the miscarriage, you only remember the pain. When you think of the blood you remember the images of Dr. Piper, tied up and beaten bloody.

You remember John let her die.

You don’t know where you are exactly. In a safehouse in Canada is what John said when you all arrived there. Kate is not here. She stayed in the US. You hope she’s okay. Johnny told you she has a wife, and she wanted to stay for her. If she had run with you, she’d be a fugitive.

You haven’t left the bed you’ve been in since you got here. You sneak out to use the bathroom when everyone is fast asleep. You feel numb. Numb to everything. The only thing that reminds you that you’re still alive is the burn in your chest. Your wounds healed almost immediately after the miscarriage. You still ache though, your body heavy, throbbing in pain.

Johnny or Kyle will be in soon. They’ll try to get you to take pain medication. You’ll refuse; you want to feel the pain. You deserve to feel the pain. They’ll try to get you to eat or at least drink. You try. You take in as much as you can stomach.

Johnny likes to talk about what’s going on outside and how everyone is. Kyle keeps quiet. He just gives encouragement to keep you eating. You prefer Kyle. At night, sometimes Simon is with you. You don’t sleep, you can’t sleep. It’s like you’re there watching her die over and over again.

You wake screaming covered in sweat. He’s there gripping your shoulders almost trying to shake you awake. The betas rush into the room soon after. You hate their scent. It reminds you of Dr. Piper. You would rather smell beta than alpha though.

Alpha makes you think of John and you hate John right now.

You see him sometimes, his head poking through the door, especially after you’ve woken screaming. You can smell him. His scent lingers through the apartment. It lingers on you and it always will since he claimed you. He tried to talk to you when you were more aware. Every word he said made you sob.

Dr. Piper said pack threads are fragile things. It’s your job as an omega to keep them together. It’s almost like you can see them laid out in front of you. It’s like strings coming from you and out to each person. They’re intertwined too, connected to each other. It always comes back to you though. You keep the strings tight, keep the pack together.

Johnny opens the door to your room. He used to knock, but they’ve stopped caring as much. They leave the door cracked open, never fully letting it close. Maybe they care too much. He’s always smiling, he never seems upset about anything. It makes you jealous. You prop yourself up on your arm as he comes over placing the tray on the bedside table and turning on the light.

“How are you feeling today?” he asks. You don’t say anything, sitting up against the pillows. You feel tired. From the small amount of energy you don’t spend on crying, you use it to force food down your throat. He hands you a bottle of water picking up the bottle of pills. He rolls the bottle round in his hand like he does every time.

“You don’t have to be in pain,” he says. You can hear the sadness in his voice. You open the bottle of water.

“I’m fine,” you say before taking a drink. He smiles and puts the bottle back down on the tray. You wish they would stop asking, at least they’ve stopped hovering or asking how you are every 30 seconds. Johnny sits on the bed, and you move your legs for him.

“Simon and Kyle are going to the store tomorrow. Anything you fancy?” He brings the bowl of what looks like pasta on his knee. Guess you’re staying here for longer than you thought. Last you heard from Johnny you were still laying low until John could get a flight to the UK.

You shake your head. You don’t want to leave. It’s going to make you feel further away from Dr. Piper than you already feel. You still feel close to Johnny and Kyle. The threads are strong with them, they’re good betas. They’re good people.

Johnny spoons some pasta up bringing it to your mouth. You can do it yourself but you think Johnny likes playing caretaker. That makes him a good beta. Besides, you’re not going to complain, it's nice to have their company sometimes. The pasta tastes good. If there is one thing you have come to look forward to, it’s the food.

Kyle’s been cooking. You can sometimes smell the food before someone brings it to you and it’s never disappointing. Today is no different, pasta and meatballs, ‘spag bol’ as Johnny calls it. You listen to him as he talks about what’s been going on. It’s Wednesday. The weather is nice. He offers to open the curtains and window, but you shake your head.

Simon’s going a bit stir crazy which is why they’re going shopping tomorrow. By your fourth or fifth spoon of food you’re feeling full. You hold your hand up to stop Johnny but he bullies you into a few more spoonfuls. You lay back in the bed. Eating always makes you tired. Johnny sighs, giving up.

At least you’re eating something, and something is better than nothing. You lay back down as you watch Johnny leave the room. The door is almost fully closed, it’s just a crack left. You reach over, turning the light off. Now the only light is coming in, through the crack in the door.

The next time you see anyone will be if Simon inevitably wakes you from your night terrors. He’s got into the habit of sleeping in the recliner conveniently placed in your room. He doesn’t seem to mind. He seems to sleep quite comfortably anywhere.

He does such a good job at hiding his scent. He never smells of alpha, he never smells of anything. There are times where you crave John’s comfort, where you crave his touch. Then you remember why you’re mad at him and it makes you upset.

Your dreams are almost always the same. You’re running through the bunker looking for Dr. Piper. The only thing that changes is what happens when you find her. Sometimes she’s already dead, sometimes you have to break into a room slowly filling with water. Sometimes you get there and John is already in the room standing over her body as he does nothing to try and stop her from bleeding out.

The Professor is always there too. He creeps in the background, always just out of view, as if he’s stalking you. You can always hear him though, his voice echoing in the barren bunker. Then he grabs you, pulling you back from Dr. Piper so you’re always just out of her reach. You never save her. She always dies either in the room she’s been held in or at the bottom of the steps to the exit.

So close but she never sees sunlight again.

It’s always your fault. You can never save her.

You hear your own scream as you shoot up in bed. There are hands on you, gripping your shoulders tight. It’s always Simon, he’s holding your body as you try to calm down. It’s not long before Johnny and Kyle are running into the room. Johnny gets to you first and Simon steps back as he comes over, wrapping his arms around you. You hold him tight as he tells you everything is going to be okay and it’s all just dreams.

It’s not though because she really did die, and she really was tortured. Just like you had been, you knew what she was feeling. You hate the fact she died suffering. You hate the fact that you didn’t get to say goodbye. You hate John for making that choice.

Johnny stays with you for the rest of the night, holding you in his arms. You never really get back to sleep. You watch the sun come up through the closed curtains. Maybe you want to go outside, although from what you’ve heard you’re in a city and not the countryside. You close your eyes letting Johnny squeeze you in his arms.

Beta will always remind you of Dr. Piper but for now you breathe Johnny’s scent in letting it lull you back to sleep.

When you wake the bed is empty. You sit up swinging your legs out. You’re hungry, and you’re craving tea. The wooden floors are cold on your feet. You walk out of the room slowly. The apartment is an open floor plan and from your room you walk straight into the kitchen. Simon and Kyle are sitting at the table. Their eyes lock onto you as soon as your door is open.

You look around, but you can’t see John or Johnny anywhere. You swallow the lump in your throat away. Maybe you’re not ready yet. Maybe you can’t talk to them yet. They sit up straight watching you as you take a step out the room. You wrap your arms around your chest. It’s cold; there’s a chill in the air.

“You okay?” Kyle asks. You take a step over to the table.

“Can I have a cup of tea?” you ask. Your voice is quiet, and you feel a lump rise in your throat. You swallow it away as you watch Kyle get up off his chair. He walks round the table to you, his hand resting on your back.

“Want me to bring it into your room or…?”

“Here,” you say, reaching out and pulling the chair in front of you out. He smiles as you sit down and he goes into the kitchen. You look over at Simon. He’s not wearing his mask. You realised a few days ago but you were too upset to pay attention.

He’s handsome just like the rest of them. Not what you were expecting but you’re not sure what you were expecting. He has fluffy blonde hair, and you can see stubble coming through on his face. They’re all looking a bit rough. It feels like that’s your fault. You’re not sure what's going to happen. Maybe you’ll be staying here for longer than you think.

“Why do you wear a mask?” you ask Simon, looking over at him. You don’t know if he’s going to answer you honestly—you don’t expect him to. You keep eye contact watching his face. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked. Maybe he’ll get mad at you.

“I like to keep anonymity in the field,” he says. You smile at him as Kyle puts a mug in front of you. You breathe in the steam letting the mug warm your hands. Kyle sits down next to you.

“Where are John and Johnny?” you ask no one in particular.

“Securing a plane for us, they’ll be back later,” Kyle says. You nod. Kyle’s hand comes up to rub your back. You like feeling the betas near you. Maybe you’re healing. Maybe this is what healing feels like. You can’t help it though, your mind goes back to Dr. Piper and tears well up in your eyes.

You know they can smell your sadness in the air as you bring the mug of tea up to your lips. You don’t care that it’s still scalding hot, taking a sip and letting it burn your tongue.

“Are we going to the UK?” you ask, putting the tea down.

“Yeah, Scotland,” Kyle says.

“You’ll like it there. Lots of greenery, and a loch by the house,” Simon says. You look past him out the open window in the living room. You can see buildings across what you assume is the road. You look back at Simon and nod, bringing your hand up to wipe the tears away. You keep sipping the tea sitting in silence as Kyle and Simon pick their conversation back up.

You’re not really listening to them as you enjoy feeling Kyle’s hand rubbing your back and letting the cup of tea warm your body. Before you know it the door to the apartment opens. You’re holding your breath as you see Johnny and John walk in.

Johnny smiles when he sees you coming over to the table.

“Hey lass, finally got you out of bed.” You look down at your mug and you can see your reflection in the tea. You don’t want to be out here any more. You want to crawl back into bed and sleep. You let out a sniffle before looking back up at Johnny.

He still has a smile on his face. You see John moving behind him. You don’t want to see him; you can’t see him. The scent of his alpha fills the air. You let go of your mug, Kyle's hand dropping from your back as you push yourself back from the table, getting up.

You walk back into the bedroom. The bed is the only place you want to be. At least when you’re in the room, there’s a barrier between you and John. Your hand rubs the back of your neck. You feel the indents of his teeth. You can’t avoid him forever. He’s your alpha.

You don’t want to see him right now though. You can’t even look at him without imagining Dr. Piper. He should have saved her. She deserved to be saved.

You get into bed pulling the duvet over your head. You’re crying again, you can’t help it. The throbbing comes back deep in your chest. She should be alive. He should have saved her.

It’s after Kyle has been bullying more food into you. Someone else steps into the threshold of your door. The door opens slowly, and you can smell alpha in the air. You know it’s John before he even walks into the room. You don’t move; your body freezes up. You’re reacting like he’s a threat.

He’s not a threat, he's your alpha. You have his mark.

He walks into the room, the door squeaking behind him. He walks over to the recliner Simon sleeps in. Your eyes move up to watch him as he sits down, slow, keeping his distance. It’s the first time you’ve really seen him since coming here.

You swallow the nerves away trying to keep the crying at bay. You don’t want him to see you cry. All you’ve done is cry. You’re sick of crying.

He just sits there like he’s trying to think of what to say or do. He shifts in the chair reaching into his pocket. You watch as he pulls out Piper's silk scarf. Your lip quivers as you see it.

“I should have saved her,” he says eventually. You watch him run the scarf over his palm. He reaches over, putting the scarf on the bedside table. It’s bundled up. You can see all the colours merging together. You want to reach out and grab it.

You look back at John as he leans forward in the chair, his elbows on his knees. You don’t have anything to say to him.

“I know you don’t want me to say sorry. I know you hate me right now. I should have done better. I should have been a better alpha. A better person. You deserve better. I should have acted differently,” he sighs, hanging his head for a second before looking back up at you. “All I want is for you to be safe. You don’t have to forgive me, I don’t expect you to. But I'm going to be here, we all are. We’re going to take care of you.” You look right into his eyes taking all his words in.

Of course they're going to be there for you. They’re your pack. John is your alpha. You can’t avoid him forever but you can be mad at him. You’re going to be mad at him for a long time. He let her die. He sits there as tears leak over your eyes. You blink them away each time.

You wish you weren't mad at him. You wish things could go back to normal, or at least this new normal with your pack and Dr. Piper, outside of the bunker without the Professor. It felt like your chance to start new, your chance to have a new life.

A life without Dr. Piper doesn’t seem possible right now. You want him to leave and leave you alone. You need to mourn, and you don’t need him trying to apologise or tell you everything is going to get better. All you hear is empty promises.

“Go away. Please,” you say, holding the tears back. He hangs his head waiting a few seconds longer, but he doesn’t say anything, he just sits there. You watch him. He’s controlling his scent but you can still smell it heavy in the air. The ground after rain and smoke. Eventually he gets up and moves to leave.

“John,” you choke on the sob. He stops at the door turning back to see you. “If you could choose again. Would you still let her die?”

“She loved you, she knew what she was doing. She did it all for you, to protect you,” he says. He sighs, gripping the door. It’s not the answer you want. You look over at the scarf.

“I should have saved her,” he says. You wipe the tears away and look back over at the door. He’s gone.

You reach out, picking up the scarf and pulling it up to your nose. You close your eyes breathing in her lingering scent.

The house on the hill, the pies, the lake, the summer’s evening. You close your eyes. You let her scent go straight to your head.

The house on the hill, the pies, the lake, the summer’s evening. And Dr. Piper stood in the window of the house, looking over at you smiling. She’s safe, and you're happy. A sob rises inside you. You let it come out but it comes out with a smile. You hug the scarf closer to your chest.

You need to mourn. You can’t do that with the person who killed her.

Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui Beta reader and editor - rememberwren

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