#PLEASE ATTACK ME THIS YEAR PLEASE PLEASE PLEA

[lightthemaskedone]

Guys guess which artfight team I’m on

Follow me on artfight 🤯

[julijbee]

im sure everything will be okay ･ᴗ･

[fatoam232]

A Plea from the Heart: I Am Fatima, and This Is My Story

My name is Fatima, a teacher from Gaza. I used to work in a small school I loved dearly, planting hope in the hearts of children and teaching them that tomorrow could be better. But the war took everything away. My school was bombed, I lost my job, and our home was reduced to rubble. Yet, I refused to give up. I set up a small tent amid the destruction and continued teaching children, showing them that knowledge is a light that cannot be extinguished, even in the darkest times.

My husband, Akram, was my partner and pillar of support. But he was severely injured in an attack targeting civilians. His abdominal injuries are so severe that he can no longer work or even lift basic items. Every day, I see the pain in his eyes and feel the weight of helplessness, but I try to stay strong for him and for our children.

Our eldest, Manar, is four years old, and she’s missing out on her childhood amidst this devastation. Our youngest, Ibrahim, was born under bombardment just a year ago. He has suffered greatly due to the lack of milk and proper medical care. Yet, sometimes, he smiles, and in those brief moments, I find the strength to keep going.

We now live in a fragile tent that doesn’t shield us from the cold or rain. Every day is a new battle for survival. I write these words while holding my children’s hands, with nothing left but my faith in God and the hope that your kind hearts will hear our plea.

Please help us provide milk and food for our children, ease Akram’s pain, and rebuild even a small part of the life the war has destroyed. Every donation, no matter how small, makes a big difference in our lives.

I ask you to share our story and be our support during this harsh and unforgiving time.

Donation link

Ghost 90 verified

Les escribo con gran pesar. Pedí a alguien que creara una campaña de recaudación de fondos para mis hijos, para que pudiéramos sobrevivir a los bombardeos y el hambre. Se recaudó un total de $4,531. Desafortunadamente, los fondos nunca me llegaron😭, ya que fui yo quien cerró la campaña sin entregar el dinero. Este dinero no era solo para mí; era la esperanza de mis hijos de tener algo de comer para alimentarse en estas duras circunstancias. A pesar de la decepción y la traición, no he perdido la fe en sus corazones compasivos. Hoy💔 empiezo desde cero... con la única esperanza de que me apoyarán. Yo misma he creado una nueva campaña de recaudación de fondos💔 y les ruego que me ayuden de nuevo y compartan este enlace con la mayor cantidad de personas posible🫂. Ustedes son nuestra última esperanza.🙏❤️

[loverindeepspace]

Darkness // Rafayel x Reader

I'm back again with more angst :D Concept: Raf has a nightmare, you comfort him Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst CW: Nightmare, panic attack, she/her pronouns for reader, anxiety Masterlist

He had waited for her for so long. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Years after years seemed to pass by in a blur, colours becoming bleaker with every second that passed without her by his side. Loneliness crept in quickly, leaving him cold to the bone, the last words she said to him echoing in his head over and over again.

“Who are you?”

And who was he, really? The sea god? No. He gave up that title a long time ago, when he betrayed his people, betrayed the ocean itself. When he was no longer welcome home. An assassin? The one that failed after seeing her again? The one that couldn’t bring himself to hurt the person who mattered most to him? The princess that still held his heart without ever knowing it? 

It was dark, so dark. Not the comforting darkness of the ocean, but the sullen nothingness. Her words echoing again and again in his head. He had been forgotten again. 

Then she was there, in front of him, standing in this abyss, confusion swimming in her eyes. The same person he fell in love with again, the one he waited hundreds of years for. His bodyguard, his hunter, his muse.

“Do… I know you?” Your voice was guarded, almost sharp, the softness that he became familiar with nowhere to be seen, as if it never existed in the first place. He tried to reply, but no sound came. Panic seized him, freezing him in place, eyes wide, searching yours for even a hint of recognition.

No. This can’t be happening. She can’t forget. Not again. Please.

He’s waited so long to find her again. His love for her never waivered, his heart aching to see her, to feel her, to hold her. He thought he could do this again, he’d wait a thousand life times for her. But he couldn’t do this, he would not survive it. 

He reached out, trying to grasp her hand. But it was futile, for he could not reach her no matter what he tried. Every time he tried to move towards her, it felt like she was further away. Before he realised, you had already started walking away from him, leaving him behind.

And he tried. He tried to run after you, a silent scream of your name on his lips, reaching out, pleading for you to remember him, to come back. No words left his mouth. You got further and further away, your silhouette blurry between the tears flooding his eyes. He tried and tried again.

Come back. 

Please. 

Don’t leave me alone again. 

I can’t be alone again. 

He couldn’t breathe, his lungs restricted with the fear that coursed through him, desperate pleas running through his mind, trying hopelessly to leave his lips. 

Whimpers startled you awake, incomplete sentences broken by sobs ringing through the darkness of the room. The arms settled around you shook and the rise of the chest pressed to your back was frantic. You sat up, spinning around to face Rafayel, only to see the wet streaks running down his face, expression twisted with sorrow. Your heart dropped.

Another choked cry snapped you into action, your hands flying to his cheeks, brushing away the tears staining his face.

“Raf?” You call out.

“Raf!” You call his name, more firmly this time, “Wake up!”

His eyes fly open, a gasp of air finally filling his lungs, your name still on his lips. You moved your hands away in surprise when he sprung up to sit, his knees coming up and his hands running down over his face as he caught his breath, air finally rushing in. His entire body was tense, broken whimpers muffled by his palms, and you reached out to him again. Softly, you wrap your hand over his wrist, gently prying his hand from his face, and returning to his cheek.

“Raf? Darling? Look at me.” You steady your voice, concern bleeding through every word. 

You’ve never seen him like this before. He was usually so guarded, playing the serious stuff, and his own anxiety, off with a joke and some teasing. You’ve only seen him vulnerable a couple of times and never for long, but you could tell sometimes that the thoughts running through his head were torturing him. The slight furrow of his brow. The way he’d often isolate himself in his studio, painting until he passed out. Any concern you brought up was brushed off with a teasing grin and a peck to your lips.

That wasn’t what you saw now. Right now he was an open book or hurt, of fear, pain and heartbreak. A pang of pain surged through your own heart, seeing your beloved in such a state, his eyes glazed over, tears still spilling over. His hand caught your wrist, his grip tight, almost painfully so. His eyes searched your face for something you couldn’t name.

“Raf?” All you could do at that moment was look up at him, your hand still on his cheek, wrist held firmly in place.

“... Don’t leave… Please…Not again…” He sounded wrecked, voice rough, choked by sobs threatening to escape.

“My love… I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.” You say softly.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” 

You touch your forehead against his, eyes never leaving him.

 “Come here,” you whisper, guiding him into your arms. His arms wrap around you in a death grip, face buried in your neck as you run your fingers through his hair. You settle both of you into a more comfortable position, your back against the headboard, Rafayel settled into your arms, curled up around you, face never leaving your neck. You abandon the thought of sleep for the rest of the night, your hands running across his back and through his hair as you whisper reassurances to him, leaving soft kisses where you could reach. 

Slowly, you feel him sagging in your arms, exhaustion filling him as the adrenaline slowly leaves his body. But he couldn’t sleep yet, jerking awake every time his eyes dropped lower. 

What if I wake up and she’s not here? What if she leaves and forgets again?

These thoughts rang through his head, echoing and repeating. His breaths became shorter again, panic rushing in again. He tried to control his breathing, get this anxiety under control, you’ve already seen him in such a state. 

Shit. What if this is too much for her? I can’t burden her with this anymore. I can’t be too much for her. Am I too much? Will she leave when she sees what a mess I actually am?

The noise in his mind became louder and louder, overwhelming his senses, dread making his heart drop, making him more nauseous with every thought. 

“Hey hey hey, Raf, love, look at me,” you pull him up to face you as you feel the panic overtake him once more. You find his gaze, holding it while wiping away the fresh batch of tears.

“It’s okay, you’re okay, breathe for me love, a deep breath,” you breathe with him, guiding him through the haze of terror, “breathe with me. Focus on me, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” 

Some time passes before he settles down again, burying himself against you.

“... Will… Will you still be here… in the morning?” His voice is weak, barely there.

“Of course I will. I won’t leave, I promise.”

[mahmodsafy]

Urgent Humanitarian Appeal

We are living through a real disaster. Our region has been attacked and our home has been completely destroyed. We have no food, no shelter, and our situation is getting worse every day.

We urgently need basic necessities:

Flour to prepare food

Milk for my son

Treatment for me, as I suffer from a condition called thrombocytopenia

We are trapped, and every day without aid makes our situation even more critical.

If you can donate $25, $50, or even $100, you will be directly helping to save our family.

Please, if you can help with even a small donation, it would mean the world to us.

Your support is our only hope to survive.

Every contribution, no matter how small, makes a big difference.

Your kindness and voice matter more than you know. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! 🌹🙏🙏

Donation link here

May God reward everyone who helped or shared this appeal.

Verified by

✅️

@gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #613 )✅️

[iguanodonwildman]

I am making this post on behalf of my friend, @hashembadr. Hashem is #102 on @gazavetters’ spreadsheet.

Hashem is currently raising money for his family in Gaza. There are 26 people in his group, including himself. 13 of them are children between the ages of 3 to 16. Among these children is Hashem’s neice, Suhaam, who is 9 years old.

(The above redraw of Suhaam was drawn by astraios-art to avoid triggering tumblr’s mature content filters with blood.)

Suhaam was injured on October 22, 2023 and had to have surgery on her left arm. Due to the war and repeated displacement, she was not able to receive follow up treatment or rest as needed. Now, her arm has healed badly and she needs a revision surgery. She experiences pain and has trouble moving it. She has trouble holding toys. It is possible she may lose the arm if she does not get this surgery soon.

GoFundMe takes a 2% commission from donations, and the transfer fees to Gaza take another 30% off of that reduced number. In order to pay for his neice’s surgery, Hashem will need to raise $5,920. ($4,700 for the operation and treatment, plus $111 for the GFM commission fee, plus another $1,110 is the price of transferring the amount to Gaza 30% for the transfer fee.)

A large portion of the current GFM funds (about £6,000, give or take) were used to pay for two replacement tents after the three they were living in were destroyed by shrapnel in an attack, a bed and mattress for Suhaam, and daily living expenses. I have tracked those expenses here, but the links are broken because tumblr terminated Hashem’s old blog. As such, the GFM must reach at least £11,000 for Suhaam to get her surgery, though Hashem may be forced to use some of the current funds to purchase food for the rest of the family.

Hashem is a good friend and we have been chatting almost daily (when he has internet) for months now. There isn’t much I can do for him except to make his voice louder. Please share this post and donate if you are able!

Update: Hashem is also now without a phone. It was damaged on June 8th, 2025, when he was attacked after leaving the aid station.

I’ve also included some examples of art from artists who are offering commissions in exchange for donations to Hashem below if you need further incentive to give.

If you donate any amount of money, you can get a cute lil dragon doodle from @shadowfoxsilver! Here's a cutie she drew for me! They also offer additional tiers for more complex drawings.

For at least $3, you can get a doodle from @artobotsrollout! Here's is a $10 sketch I got from her. The sketch tier includes progress shots, line art, and a full color piece.

If you donate at least $5, you can get a sketch from @astraios-art! Here's one he did for me of Tenzou helping Sakura chase Kakashi down for a check up! He also drew me this picture of Johnny and Roy from Emergency!, and this picture of Slim and Jess from Laramie!

@orilifiel is also offering $5 donation sketches! Here is one he drew for me of my favorite Resident Evil Head canon where Leon finds a cake from the welcome party mid game and eats it with a blank stare.

@derelictheretic is also offering $5 sketches on this post! They also offer additional tiers for more complex drawings.

For at least $7, you can get a sketch from @optimistic-autistic! Here's one he did for me of one of my favorite pokemon, Chikorita! He also offers additional tiers for more complex drawings.

If you donate at least $15, you can get a character design from @crungulus. $25 will get you a portrait, and $30 will get you even more, like this commission they did for me of my late cat, Callie.

These offers may expire, so donate now!

[kissandtellus]

Warning, Bite Risk: Ch. 5

Synopsis: Zayne is convinced to help treat Caleb, but K-9 Hybrids don’t take kindly to other males in their territory.

Warnings: Mentions of PTSD, angst, but it’s a little bit more comical for this chapter, Caleb marks his territory, unrequited PINING.

Tags: @mcdepressed290 , @seventeen-x , @rorel1a , @skylarkse , @blorbohunter , @teacupwaifu, @lewdcifer778, @eiradragonsong,

“What can I do to help him?” MC says with a harsh whisper, looking at Zayne, hoping and praying there’s something she can do.

Zayne frowns, and his eyes flick over the image again.

"I don't know if there's anything we can do, MC." He says, his voice heavy with resignation. "It's like this because the Farspace Fleet tried and failed to make him into something that he wasn't meant to be."

He pauses, and his eyes seem to soften. It's a foreign look on him, but he seems to be genuinely sorry. "The damage is too extensive. I don't know how he's functioning."

Caleb hears this, and his eyes shoot open. He has heard something, and he doesn't like the sound of it.

He looks at MC, and his eyes are wide and pleading. His breathing is quick and shallow, and he seems to be trying to find the words to say.

"No." He rasps softly, his eyes filled with fear.

"Please, M-MC, don't- Please. I-I c-can't live without you." He looks like he's about to fall apart.

Zayne scoffs, and his eyes narrow. "And there is that. His attachment to you." He snarls the word, like it's the worst thing in the world.

The word is dripping with disdain, as if his feelings for her are nothing but a hindrance. Something in the way of progress.

"I can get you another pet, MC. You don't need to keep him around just because he's defective.”

Caleb whimpers at the word "defective,"and he curls his lips back in a snarl, baring his teeth at Zayne.

"I-I'm not... a pet!" He snarls in a low voice, his eyes flashing in anger.

His hands are balled into fists by his side, and he looks like he's about to attack Zayne. But he just stands there, unable to move. His body is trembling, and he looks at MC, waiting for her to speak. Pleading with her not to let this happen.

MC balls up her fist by her sides. “He’s not…he’s not defective Zayne. He needs our HELP.” She says stiffly

"And what help can we give him?" Zayne asks softly, his voice filled with bitterness. "I can't even fix his brain. The Farspace Feet did this to him. He's ruined."

Ruined.

Like Caleb isn't standing right in front of them. Like he's talking about a tool, a broken machine. Not a person's brain.

He seems to notice how MC looks at him, and his expression darkens. His voice is cold, and his gaze unflinching when he returns her stare.

Zayne was a Hybrid Specialist, a man who spent his entire life helping Hybrids of every species. Especially K-9 Hybrids like Caleb. But this was so far from what he was used to seeing.

And here was MC, his lost love who left him a year ago, begging for his help.

Caleb's not just a Hybrid, he's a military-grade Hybrid. Someone who has been trained for war from the moment he was created in a lab. From the moment he was born.

He was designed for one purpose and one purpose only; to kill. To be a weapon.

And Zayne knows that she can't help him.

Not without risking her life.

"He is lost!" Zayne snarls in frustration, as if he's angry that MC can't see what he sees in the Hybrid.

"He is beyond our help, MC!" He growls, his voice rising. "He is dangerous. Look at him! He looks ready to rip me to shreds."

He takes a step forward, his fists clenched tight by his sides. And his eyes are filled with hurt. Like she's the one who is refusing to see reason.

"He's not a person." Zayne hisses sharply, his eyes blazing with anger. "He's a Hybrid, MC. Property of the Farspace Fleet."

He stops, for a moment, his eyes turning sad. And his voice softens into a near-plea when he speaks again. "MC, please. I- just... Please don't put yourself in danger. Let's just leave him at a shelter and- and go. We can be together. We can be happy."

“Is this your grand plan?” She says with an arched brow. “Give him back to those monsters so you can have me back?” Her teeth are gritted. “You could be the last man on earth, Zayne. And if you did that, I wouldn’t even spit in your direction.”

A flash of anger fills Zayne’s eyes at the mention of the Farspace Fleet, and his eyes snap to hers. “And what do you think they’ll do with you?!” He snaps, his voice rising again. “You think they’ll let you live? You think they’re the good guys?”

He takes a deep breath, and he closes his eyes. When he looks at MC again, his expression is calmer. “What do you want from me? Huh, MC? What do you want me to do?”

I’ll do anything for you.

MC bites her bottom lip and turns to Caleb still curled on the floor. “I’ll…disguise him. Bring him here for treatment. He’s…he’s not bad.”

Zayne's eyes burn with anger, but his voice is controlled when he responds. “And how long do you think that will last, MC?” His voice is filled with venom, as he turns his gaze back to her. “How long until they figure out what he is? How long until they send those things out into the streets to hunt him down?”

Zayne shakes his head, and he chuckles dryly. “And then what, MC? What are you really prepared to do to protect him?” He demands.

“Anything.” Her voice is ice cold. She kneels down next to Caleb, brushing a stray piece of hair from out infront of his eyes. “I’ll give you whatever you want Zayne.”

Zayne looks at her, and his eyes fill with shock. He clearly wasn't expecting that answer, and he doesn't know how to respond.

His expression softens, to one of sympathy and understanding. He still loves her, after everything. He doesn't know if he ever stopped.

And it tears him up.

"I-" He starts, but his voice fails. He tries again, his voice softer. "MC... you know I can't let you do this. Not... not without me.”

MC lifts her head to him and god, that smile. He missed it. She stands again, holding out her hand in a fist bump. “Partners in crime?”

Zayne watches her with an intensity in his eyes, and he chuckles at her offer. "I thought you wouldn't want me to say no." He takes her fisted hand, and squeezes it.

His eyes are soft when their gazes meet, and his voice is tender. "And here I thought you didn't need me anymore." He says, his voice almost teasing, but in a gentle way.

She kneels down to Caleb who’s watching Zayne like prey. She pets the sensitive spot between his ears. “Let’s go home.”

Caleb’s tail swishes slowly back and forth, and his eyes close when she scratches behind his ears. He purrs softly, and if it were possible for him to melt, he would have.

His eyes open when he hears her words, and his ears perk up. “Home?” He asks, and his voice is cautious, not willing to believe it. “You mean... we can-we are going home?”

His eyes go from MC’s worried face back to Zayne’s, and his eyebrows furrow in concern.

“You… you are coming too, right?” He asks, his voice quiet. His tone is not unkind, but it’s clear he doesn’t trust Zayne. At least, not yet.

He waits for an answer, his tail still swishing around. He trusts her, but he doesn’t know what to think about Zayne. Not after everything that happened.

He doesn’t want to be left alone again.

Zayne is still standing in the doorway, and he is looking at Caleb with an expression that is unreadable. He seems to be thinking something over, but his expression doesn’t give any indication of his thoughts.

Then he sighs, and his face softens. “You don’t have to be scared, Caleb.” He says, his voice low. “I’m not your Handler.” He says the words with bitterness, but not directed at Caleb.

The routine of their life is rough at first. Caleb is still getting used to another male in the house.

Zayne finishes taking a shower in MC’s apartment. But when he comes into the spare bedroom, Caleb is….marking his territory right on Zayne’s lab coat.

Caleb looks up from where he is urinating on the lab coat, and his eyes narrow on Zayne.

“Why do you leave your things in my new bedroom?” He asks, his voice filled with territorial aggression. His hackles are raised, and he is glaring at Zayne like he could rip him to shreds.

He is a Hybrid who doesn’t like to share.

Which is fine, because Zayne doesn’t like sharing MC either. And he certainly doesn’t like having his belongings pissed on.

Zayne’s eyes narrow, and his eyes turn cold. His voice is cold too, and his fists are clenched by his sides. “You’re a very possessive little doggy, aren’t you?” He sneers at Caleb, his eyes challenging him. “Do you want to piss on my boots now? Do that so we’ll know for sure who this room belongs to, huh?”

Caleb stares at Zayne, and his eyebrows furrow in annoyance. “This is my room.” He snaps, his voice loud and clear. “My room.”

His tail is swishing quickly back and forth as he speaks, and his eyes are filled with a challenge. He seems to be daring Zayne to contradict him.

His tail swishes faster once he finishes, and he stands up. “You’re the one who came into my room without asking. That’s on you, pet.”

Caleb looks him over, his eyes narrowed in a glare.

"And just so you're aware, I'm not little." He snarls, his tone low. "You want to call me something? Call me Caleb."

He snaps, his eyes narrowing once again before he returns to the spot on the floor he'd been laying.

He stares at the now pissed-on coat, and his ears fold back. "I guess you'll have to clean that up, pet. I'm not sorry."

Zayne grits his teeth, his anger dribbling out. “What’s next? Are you going to piss on MC to mark her too?”

Caleb’s eyes snap to him, and the glare he sends is withering. It’s as if he’s looking at a fly and debating how worth it is to expend the effort to swat it.

His mouth curls into an amused smirk, with his eyes glinting as he tilts his head to the side, and the words he speaks come out in a low hiss. “Piss on her?”

He turns his body towards Zayne while his lips curl into a cruel smile. “No, I have other methods of marking her as mine.”

Before either male can react, MC calls them from the dining room. “Boys! Dinner is ready!”

Caleb’s ears perk up at MC’s voice, and his attention is immediately shifted to her. His eyes go soft when he realizes that she's just in the other room, and he starts to move towards her, but stops when he sees the coat.

He looks down at the piss-stained coat, and the smirk on his face turns from amused to cruel.

"Get your coat, pet.” He sneers as he walks out of the room.

He doesn’t help Zayne clean it up.

Caleb goes to the dining room, and he looks like a new man when he sees her. The anger on his face is gone, and in its place is adoration.

His eyes are soft when their gazes meet, and his ears are flattened in a happy and submissive gesture. He smiles when he sees her, and his tail starts to wag slowly back and forth.

“MC!” He calls, and he walks over to her, his arms rising to wrap around her.

He kisses her cheek and holds her tightly against him, and he can feel the tension in his shoulders melting. His tail starts to wag faster, and he’s smiling as he starts to relax into the hug.

“Are you cooking in my sweatshirt?” He asks with mock surprise, his voice teasing. "My girl” He sighs quietly, his voice filled with amusement. He leans down to kiss her neck. He’s very, very happy to have her. He’s very happy to be where he is.

MC gasps and pushes him back a little. Ever since Zayne has basically moved in, his affection for her was through the roof. “C-Caleb! Bad boy! I’m cooking!”

Caleb’s eyes widen when she pushes him back, and he takes a step back, giving her some space. His ears flatten again, and he looks like a guilty puppy when she reprimands him.

His head tilts to the side, and he looks at her with those soft eyes. He looks completely different from the possessive, aggressive K-9 that had been standing in front of Zayne.

He takes a step forward, and his voice is quiet and subdued when he speaks. “Does that mean I’m in trouble…?”

She sighs and plates the food for them. “No Buddy, you just know how I am about the…affection thing. Zayne doesn’t know about how you…said the L word to me. He’d lose it…”

Caleb’s face flushes, and his eyebrows furrow. He lowers his gaze.

“He doesn’t have to know, right?…” He asks, his voice hushed as if someone might overhear them. “It’s not important right now.”

His eyes flicker behind her, and the moment they see Zayne, his gaze turns cold. He’s ready to be hostile again, but he keeps his guard up.

He’s not going to say anything that will make Zayne lose it. He doesn't want him to know what he'd said.

“Oh Zayne! Just in t-…hey, aren’t you heading to the clinic? Where’s your lab coat?” She asks with a cock of her head.

Zayne rolls his eyes and unravels his coat. He lifts it up, looking at how the fabric has dried with Caleb’s urine.

He had been trying to ignore it, but he can’t anymore. He doesn’t even bother to hide the resentment in his voice. “I have no idea, MC. And I’m late for work.” He scoffs under his breath, but still loud enough for the others to hear. “Because someone decided to piss on my lab coat."

“Caleb!” She snaps her head to the side. “Why would you do that?!”

Caleb's ears flatten once more, and his eyes go to MC.

His eyes are wide, and he looks like a child caught with its hand in the cookie jar. He shifts from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable at the stern tone in her voice.

"I-I... It was an accident?" He says with a wince, clearly lying through his teeth.

He stares straight at Zayne, his expression now cold and determined. He glares at him, his eyes full of hatred.

"I didn't like it being there." He snaps, his voice low and harsh. "It was in my room. It needed to learn a lesson."

He turns to look at MC, his eyes narrowing. "Don't be mad, MC. I was just being a little territorial. You wouldn't have to worry if Zayne would keep his stuff out of my room."

“Caleb, I don’t have any extra space for the both of you. Both of your belongings need to stay in that room. Unless one of you stays in my-“

At that, both males perk up and volunteer themselves.

Caleb's ears immediately perk up, and his eyes go wide. He looks at MC with an enthusiastic expression, and speaks fast before Zayne can say the words.

"I'll do it!" He says, his voice filled with excitement. He's leaning forward, his eyes sparkling with eagerness.

He glances at Zayne, and his gaze becomes one of challenge. He's not going to let Zayne near her room again.

He's ready for the ultimate pissing contest between them.

But MC shakes her head. “You know what, I have a better plan.”

But what neither male planned for, was them sleeping in her bed TOGETHER, while she slept in the guest bedroom.

Caleb is the biggest of the two men at 6'2", but that doesn't mean that he feels big right now.

He is trying to make himself as small as possible. It doesn't work. The bed is surrounded by cute plushies and rosy pink sheets that look comical on the war-hardened K-9 and the super genius.

He's squeezed right next to Zayne, and his tail is wrapped around himself almost protectively. The bed is too small for two grown men, let alone a grown man and a K-9 Hybrid.

Caleb is staring at the ceiling, his body rigid and unmoving. “I hate you.” he murmurs to Zayne who isn’t able to sleep either.

“I hate you too, mutt.” Zayne snaps, his voice filled with bitterness. “You disgust me. You have no place in her life but she keeps you around because she pities you. She doesn’t want a monster. She’s only with you out of obligation, Caleb.”

“And what about you?” Caleb asks, his voice low and cold. “What makes you think you’re any better? She broke off her engagement with you way before I came into the picture

He turns his head to look him in the eye, his gaze as cold as they come. “She keeps you around because she needs you, for me.”

He snarls, his eyes narrowing as he continues to glare at Zayne. “Stop telling yourself that she loves you. You’re a fool."

Zayne's eyes narrow, and he leans close to Caleb's face, his eyes filled with resentment. "I'm a fool? You, on the other hand, are a monster. You're nothing more than a feral Hybrid who will never fit in." He's not even whispering, he's saying this loud enough that MC’s ears could easily pick up on it.

"You and I have one thing in common, Caleb. We both love the same woman."

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

[byrachel]

Could you do a blurb/short story where Paul meets his imprint (shy!female reader) in the woods while in wolf form. And the reader becomes sort of friends with the wolf (as she had no other friends) and they (wolf Paul and the reader) keep meeting in the wood until Paul finally transforms and tells the reader the truth? Thanks :) 💞

UNEXPECTED FRIEND [PART ONE]

PARING: paul lahote x female reader

CONTAINS / WARNINGS: angst, hurt/comfort(ish), descriptions of an anxiety attack

NOTE: sorry for making you wait five years for this, that's actually so horrible of me. i was going through my old requests after talking to a friend i actually met through this account and i was suddenly hit with tons of inspiration. obviously i didn't complete the whole request so that why it says part one, but i don't know how long it will take for me to write a second part, because by now everyone knows how inconsistent i am lmao. i hope there's someone out there who'll enjoy this :)

You should have listened to your parents.

With an increase of mysterious and very violent bear attacks, they had urged you to not hike through the woods for the time being, knowing how much you loved to take out your sketchbook in search of the perfect place to draw. Like the angels they are, they even suggested driving you themselves to other cities for a change of scenery to spark inspiration. But being a hormonal, know-it-all young adult, of course you didn’t even waste a second entertaining the idea.

As the bear-sized wolf stared you down, you wished you could turn back time to a week ago, showing your parents the appreciation they should have gotten for even suggesting an alternative. 

Your heart crashed against your ribcage, blood whirring in your ears as fear froze you in your place. 

You were completely at the wolf’s mercy. This was his terrain, his home, an area he knew like the back of his hand. Even in open air, there was nowhere for you to run. For every four steps you could take, he would get to you in a single leap, his claws and teeth ripping into you before you could think to scream for help. 

If you weren’t imagining all the ways he could make you his next meal, you would’ve laughed at the irony of it. Even if you would scream for help, it was of no use. Of course you liked to hike as far away from human civilization as possible, trying to capture nature in its rawest, untouched form. 

Before anyone would even realize you were away for an unusual amount of time, you would be long gone. If you were lucky they would find some of your remains, leaving at least something behind for your parents to bury or cremate. 

Oh god my parents, you thought to yourself, tears blurring your vision. They were gonna be devastated. Your heart twisted at the thought of them blaming themselves for your irresponsible actions.

The ashy grey wolf raised his head, snapping you out of your never-ending self pitying thoughts and you flinched.

Slowly, he inched towards you like you were an unsuspecting prey. Remaining nearly motionless, he must have assumed you didn’t notice him and tried to come as close without warning you of his presence, before finishing his plan of attack. 

In an act of pure desperation, you dropped to the ground, making yourself as tiny as possible. You pulled your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around your head, the straps of your backpack uncomfortably tight underneath the grip of your armpits. Like you had been running a marathon, your chest rapidly rose and fell as your body trembled in fear, your lungs feeling like they could explode at any moment. 

“Please, please, please. . .” You cried in a whisper, repeating your pleas like a mantra, hoping that a god, the universe or whatever deity was out there would forgive you for the simple sin of disobeying your parents. Surely this wasn’t what you deserved.

The ground beneath you shook with every step the creature took. His paw brushed along your arms as he towered over you, his heavy breathing coating you in warm, moist clouds. 

You sobbed as you tensed all the muscles in your body, bracing yourself for the razor sharp teeth biting into you, hoping he would nick a major artery or accidentally break your neck to make your inevitable end quick.

You waited and waited, counting down to the moment you certainly knew the wolf would make a move.

But it never came. 

From above you, the creature made a strange high pitched squeaking sound. He lowered its snout and nudged at your arms. Confused, but still terrified you refused to give into his unclear request, clamping your arms even tighter around your head. 

To your surprise, you were still intact as the wolf backed away, his high pitched whining continuing. It was only when a heavy thud shook the ground that you felt you could breathe again, your lungs desperately gulping for air.

You loosened your grip and slowly peeked between the gap of your arms to look at him. The large creature laid down a couple of feet to your side, his head facing you. His big brown eyes sadly stared into yours like you had hurt his feelings. It reminded you of your aunt’s dog when you didn’t want to play with him. 

He wasn’t whining. He was crying.

Your eyebrows furrowed together. Did you scare him? Was he empathetic to your fear? Either way, the wolf’s unusual behavior was even more shocking than the expectation of him tearing you apart. Whatever his reasoning was, it seemed like he had no intention of hurting you.

Still, you didn’t take any chances, trying to remain as still as possible.

Saturated from rainfall hours before, the dirt beneath you clung to your clothes, wetness seeping through the layers. 

At a certain point you weren’t sure how much time had passed, but with each passing moment your body recognized it wasn’t in danger anymore. The thumps in your chest returned to their normal rhythm, blending into your body until you couldn’t feel them. Your trembling gradually dissipated and your sobs died down. 

And with yours, so did his. 

It had been long enough for you to realize he wasn’t going to leave you alone. It was like he was waiting for you to do something.

You gathered the courage to move, keeping an eye on the grey furred wolf as you relaxed your limbs. Still shaken, you lowered your arms and carefully stretched legs to their natural position while pushing yourself in a sitting position.

Your chest still felt tight and you pressed your hand against your heart, starting a sequence of deep breaths —in through your nose, out through your mouth— to help regulate your system. 

Like he was trying to be mindful of your state, he cautiously rose on his legs, his standing height even more terrifying when you were sitting on the ground. But you didn’t panic. If he wanted to harm you he would have already done so and probably without crying. 

He observed you closely, making sure it was okay for him to come closer and you let him. You weren’t sure how to communicate with a wolf, how to tell him you would rather not want him to come closer, but as long as you weren’t his lunch, you would just play along until he hopefully got disinterested in you and moved on.

The wolf sniffed at your hair, face and arms, testing the waters as you stayed stiff. Without warning, he licked at your face with his large tongue. You could tell he was trying to be gentle, his touch tickling you. You squirmed away with a laugh falling from your lips and you held one hand out to him. Your other hand wiped his saliva off your face. “No, no, that’s enough.” 

Oddly enough, he listened. Or at least it seemed like he did, because he didn’t lick you again.

Instead he dipped his head down and your eyes widened. When you didn’t do anything, he nudged his head towards you. Not only did he empathize with your fear, he wanted to show you he wasn’t something to be feared.

Hesitantly, you reached for the top of his head and you raked your fingers through the strands of his fur, giving him a firm rub. He gave you a huff of approval and a soft smile tugged at your lips. “Maybe you aren’t as scary as I thought.” 

Growing more comfortable, you used both hands to pet him, sleeking the fur on the top of his head back with gentle strokes. “Now I’m kind of embarrassed that you saw me react like that. That was a major overreaction.” You chuckled.

Eventually you found your bearings, the grey wolf, you named Wolfie for convenience, comforting you with his head rubs until you felt comfortable enough to move freely around him. 

He helped you up, letting you use him as leverage to get on your feet. You dusted off the dirt as best as you could, but the brown stains would raise suspicions from your parents about your whereabouts. If they ended up giving you a hard time about it, you knew you deserved it. Even if Wolfie didn’t eat you, he scared you badly enough to not go against your parents’ wishes for at least the next five years. 

The grey wolf’s head cocked up, his ears perking at a sound your human ears didn’t seem to pick up on. You followed his line of sight, deeper into the woods, not finding what he was looking at. Suddenly he turned to you, prodding his nose into your side, shoving you from your place. 

“Hey!” You exclaimed, regaining your footing. 

He stomped one of his paws against the ground, giving you another push in the direction you came from. 

He wanted you to leave the woods.

“Okay, okay, fine, I’ll go.” You said sheepishly, adjusting your backpack on your shoulders. You headed towards the nearest road, guessing that with all the noise of manmade vehicles it was probably the easiest way to stay clear from any other animals who would definitely harm you if you came across them.

“Thank you for not eating me.” You shot him a glance over your shoulder as he watched you walk away, hoping he would somehow get what you were trying to say.

[plussizefantasia]

Hey! Can I get a Thorin x f!reader where the company doesn’t believe in her because of her size and the fact that she’s a woman and then she totally kicks ass and doesn’t care what they think. And he totally regrets ever doubting her? Fluff ending if you can please!!

You Saved Me

Thorin x Warrior!reader

WC: ~3k

warnings: violence, death, it's essentially a botfa re-write so...

a/n: thank you for the request, this was entirely written in a burst of passion at midnight so if they're are any typos I'm sorry, let me know and I'll fix them <3

You were a feared warrior, one with skills you’d been honing since you could walk. Your parents had been killed by an orc pack when you were but a baby and you were taken in by the rangers who found you crying by the bodies of your loved ones. Almost a year ago you were sent a letter by that blasted grey wizard, an invitation, or maybe a plea you weren't sure anymore. Join a company of dwarves on their quest, and keep them safe. That is all he asked of you.

You had tried, you really had tried to keep them safe but when those blasted dwarves took one look at you and decided that there wasn't any possible way you knew anything about fighting, it became difficult. You had several moments where all you wanted to do was clobber them over the head, but you refrained. 

The whole journey was wrought with their endless need to remind you that you were a woman, a bigger one at that. They must’ve thought you hadn’t noticed or something of that nature, for surely they wouldn’t keep bringing it up if not to hurt you on purpose. They never forgot to tell you how much they thought you were soft, incapable, fragile. 

You’d shown them time and time again that this wasn't the case, incapacitating two of the trolls when they were all tied up in sacks ready to be cooked for dinner. You were defending  Ori when you were discovered by the warg scouts before your arrival at Rivendell. You were the first to join ranks and fend off the hundreds of bloodthirsty goblins in Goblin-town. Not to mention how you risked your life for Thorin’s when Azog attacked. You had run in with no weapon, just pure adrenaline and a need to save your leader.Not that you would ever tell him that. Tell any of them that.

Thorin was certainly one of a kind. He was undoubtedly cold, it was his nature, he had lost too much in too short a time to be willing to open himself up to others. Especially when the ‘others’ consisted of a woman ranger he hadn’t wanted on the quest in the first place. You understood though, you too had lost too much.

You wouldn't say that he warmed up to you, but it didn’t seem like he hated you as much as he did in the beginning. You had even caught him smiling once or twice when you cuffed Fili and Kili over the head at their cheeky remarks about your size.

 Over and over again you’ve defended these idiotic men, and yet nothing changed, they still had no faith. Most of them treated you horribly not that you think they noticed. It was hard to ignore their callousness when it came to you, especially compared to the warmth they shared with one another. There were several nights when their words became too much and you had to stray from camp in order to let the tears fall out of sight. But you had promised Gandalf that you would protect them, and if that meant staying even when it was obvious you weren't wanted, then that is what you’d do.

It wasn’t until Thorin, overtaken with his dragon sickness had cast you out that you had finally decided you were done. Done with dwarves, done with being underestimated and belittled at every moment.

“You will never be good enough, you are a burden to all those around you, a burden I no longer wish to be saddled with!” He had yelled from his position on the ramparts as you descended from the same rope that the hobbit had used just moments before. 

Thorin had never been cruel, aloof maybe, but never cruel. You knew deep down that it was his addled mind that allowed this cruelty to spew from his mouth. Thorin may not have known you loved him, but you had thought the two of you had reached a sort of understanding, a mutual bond forged by the danger you’d overcome together. Apparently not.

You joined Gandalf’s side as he spoke to Thorin. You bit your tongue to stop yourself from yelling back at the King Under the Mountain. It wasn't until you heard Thorin’s reply that you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore.

“I will have war!” He yelled.

“You will have death!” You had screamed back “You will have death for you and your kin if you do not stop this foolishness Oakenshield!” With that, you turned and headed back towards the gates of Dale. If there really was to be a war you would be needed, to protect those who could not protect themselves.

You heard the horns of war in the distance and shook your head. Foolish dwarves doing foolish things. You kept running towards Dale hoping to be of some use. 

Arriving at the old armory, you pulled out an old steel sword, one dating back to before the fall of the city. It wasn’t as good as the eleven blades that the elves of Mirkwood confiscated when you were captured, but it was well-balanced. The hilt was wrapped in old black leather, well worn and rough against your skin. 

You didn’t have time to sift for a better weapon, so you took the sword and ran. Bursting out onto the street your eyes scanned for danger. You took in all the rubble, some new and some old from the dragon attack years ago. The screaming of a group of people made you cease your reminiscing and run towards them. 

Taking down several enemies as you run, you finally round the corner into the main square. Landing your sight on Bain, Sigrid, and Tilda. Bain doing his very best to defend his sisters. You run forward without hesitation and trade blows with the monster in front of you, taking him down in no time at all.

“Are you all alright?” You ask rushing towards the girls and helping them down from the cart they had used as a hiding spot.

“We’re fine ma’am” Tilda responds in a shaky voice

“You all were very brave, but now it's time to head to the hall where everyone else is. Take cover, the battlefield is not safe for children I assure you.”

“But-” Bain had cut in.

“No, Bain, I know what your Da has asked of you but I’m telling you to take cover.”

He hesitated but nodded and took his sisters towards the main hall where the rest of the women and children were hiding.

You continue to take down the orcs and their armies as you run toward the main battlefield. 

“Y/N! Y/N!” You hear your name being called, rotating quickly your eyes fall on the hobbit who had become very dear to you over the course of the Journey.

“Bilbo, are you hurt? What’s wrong?” You rushed out

“No. No, I’m fine it’s Thorin.”

“Thorin? What’s happened with Thorin where is he?” Your questioning picked up in intensity.

“The Pale Orc is atop Ravenhill, and Thorin, Dwalin, Fili, and Kili have all gone to kill him.” The Hobbit responded just as rushed.

Without another word, you grab the back of the Hobbit’s coat and drag him behind you. Your eyes quickly scan the horizon, taking inventory of anything that could get you to the top of the Mountain quickly. You spot Lord Dain, on his royal ram, and make a plan in your head.

Hobbit still in your grasp you sprint across the field towards the Dwarf Lord,

“Lord Dain! I need your ram.”

“W-What?!” He sputters.

“I am not asking.” You huff out a frustrated breath and use the hand not currently gripping your friend to shove the dwarf off of his steed, quickly taking his place and beginning your trek to the mountain. Sending a quick prayer to whatever being there might be to keep your love safe. Just long enough for you to kill him yourself.

Once you are sure he won’t fall off you let go of your hold on Bilbo and scan the ground flying past you for any more weapons you could use.

Seeing a discarded elven bow and quiver ahead of you, you steer the ram towards it and scoop it off the ground and into your grasp. Five Arrows, you’ll have to use them wisely, but it’s better than nothing.

You look towards Ravenhill, watching as the dwarves you have reluctantly come to care for dismount their own steed. Pushing your heels into the sides of your own ram you pray to any gods out there that you’ll make it in time. 

You meet a few obstacles on your journey, the occasional orc arrow to be deflected, and even a troll who had fallen right in front of you. Nevertheless, in no time at all you reach the peak and search for the men you came to aid. 

You only see Thorin and Dwalin as they fight their way through hordes of creatures of the dark. You leap into the fray and call out to the two warriors

“Where are the princes?” 

“They’ve gone to search the structure.”

A yell coming from the tower quickly puts that thought to rest. You slash down the last monster before you quickly shift to see a sight that you’ll have a hard time forgetting. The pale orc holds Fili in his grasp. You immediately grasp your bow and nock an arrow. 

The pale orc is too absorbed in his victory speech to notice you pulling back the string. With a deep breath, you let an arrow loose and send a quick prayer that it hits its target. Not a second later you hear a deep grunt and see that your aim is true. The arrow lodged itself deep into the meat of the arm holding the dwarf prince. He drops Fili in surprise and your eyes widen in fear. However, it is short-lived as Fili pulls a dagger out of nowhere and wedges into the stone of the tower, slowing his descent.

Four arrows left. 

Azog staggers back and he catches himself on the wall behind him. His eyes find yours and you try not to shudder at the rage within him. This is a benefit you tell yourself. An angry enemy is a distracted enemy. His rage will be his downfall, you’ll make sure of it.

Fili lets go of the dagger and drops the rest of the distance, landing on his feet and quickly running to your side. Moments later, Kili runs from the tower and practically lunges for his brother. 

“You idiot Fee.” The brother's embrace is hard and you’re a little worried they’ll suffocate each other. Eventually, Kili lets go and turns to you, “Thank you. And I’m sorry.” 

“No need for apologies Kili. Gandalf asked me to protect you, and that’s what I’ve done.”

“Still, I underestimated you, I won’t do it again.” You nod at the prince and clap a hand on his shoulder. 

“I have to go help your uncle, don’t follow me, and whatever you do don’t split up. You’re stronger together.”

“Aye.” They both reply and send a single nod your way.

You clutch your bow and scan your surroundings, a trail of black blood and a broken arrow stem point the way to the Pale Orc’s location. 

“Fili, you wouldn’t happen to have an extra dagger would you?” You turn and ask. He smirks and opens his coat. 

“Take your pick Lass.”

After grabbing two matching daggers from Fili you begin jogging towards the frozen waterfall. You are single-minded in your task, ignoring the shouts of battle from below and the wails of the dying. You cannot let yourself get distracted. Distraction means death and you can’t help anyone when you’re dead.

You come upon a scene that you’d only ever had nightmares about. Thorin and Azog facing off on a barren plane. Neither is holding back and you force yourself to push past the terror that grips your heart. As you run towards your king you begin releasing arrows one after the other. 

Four. Three. Two. One. None.

Each arrow pierces the flesh of the monster pushing him back and back. Blow after blow sends him staggering and gives Thorin the advantage. He swings his sword and slashes at the beast.  But Azog does not fall. 

He yells. He stands and he starts returning blows. They are sloppy, his mace has no aim. It doesn’t need to, the force he puts behind it means he really only has to land one blow. 

You can’t run fast enough to cover the distance, especially not on the ice. Nevertheless, you keep pushing. Your legs burn and so do your lungs but you keep going. You race against time and fate to reach the dwarf you love. 

Thorin falls. The orc closes in. You run.

And run, and run, and run. 

You don’t notice the battle cry that rips from your body, but the orc does. 

He looks up and a sneer crosses his face. 

You get closer.

You pull your daggers.

The orc stands. 

You take a running jump.

Azog runs. 

You smile.

This is foolish. You understand that, not even you as skilled as you are could take down a beast such as this. But you’ll try because you made two promises. One to Gandalf, that you would keep the company safe. And another to yourself, that if you survived this you would stop being afraid, you would tell Thorin you love him and… 

Your daggers land in the Pale Orc’s shoulder blades. You hold on for dear life. His roar of pain nearly deafens you but you hold on still. Ripping one blade from his body you jab it at his neck. He grabs the back of your coat and pulls you away, you scratch him but nothing more. He lifts you into the air and looks into your eyes. The rage is still there, along with smugness, bloodlust, curiosity, and then - shock. His grip loosens and you fall to the ground. 

You scramble away from him, grasping the ice with shaking hands. You stand and turn. Azog is still, frozen in time. Except now, there is a sword piercing his chest. Right where his heart should be, protrudes a sword you know very well. 

Azog grips the blade and looks at you, then falls. He doesn’t get up.

Behind him stands Thorin, looking mightier than you’ve ever seen him. His hair is a mess and there is blood on his face and hands. Yet he’s never looked better. You run towards him and throw yourself into his arms. A laugh escapes you and you let yourself feel for a moment. Feel grateful, and scared and everything you’ve been holding back for the past few days. 

Thorin’s grip on you is strong and you can feel the tremor in his hands as he guides them up and down your back.

“You saved me.” His deep timber pulls you from your thoughts. “Why?”

“I made a promise to Gan-”

“No, you fulfilled your pledge to the Wizard the moment we made it to the mountain, yet you stayed. Why?” Thorin pulls his chest away from yours and attempts to catch your gaze with his.

“Is this really the time?” You ask. 

“When else?” He cocks his head to the side.

“Perhaps after the battle is over?” You fully pull away from him then. 

Thorin pauses, perhaps like you, he had briefly forgotten the battle warring on below you in a moment of joy. But he nods to you and walks back toward the lifeless body of your foe. He rips his sword out of the body. He flips Azog onto his back so his lifeless eyes gaze emptily at the sky. Thorin turns to you, “Perhaps you should look away.” he addresses you.

You simply raise an eyebrow at him. He nods and grasps the sword firmly. From one moment to the next Thorin separates Azog’s head from his body. He takes hold of it and walks towards the edge of the frozen lake, which looks out onto the field below. 

He lets out a mighty shout and hoists the fallen orc’s head into the air. Shrieks echo from below and the enemy begins to retreat. 

You’ve won.

Thorin drops his head and turns to face you, a rare smile graces his face and for the first time since you met him, it truly seems like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders, for at least a moment.

It takes you three seconds to get in front of him, one second to grab ahold of his head, and another to kiss him. Five seconds, five seconds of bravery that you will probably never be able to muster again.

Thorin kisses you back with fervor, gripping you as through he thought you might fade away. Eventually, the need for air separates you. 

“That is why I saved you,” you whisper into the space between you, “because a life without you in it is one I do not wish to bear.”

“You’ll never have to.” is his reply before his mouth is on you again. Where the first kiss was full of passion, a burst of adrenaline between two people. This one is slow, like Thorin is savoring the moment like he is trying to memorize what it is like to have you. The moment is bliss, it's everything you wanted and thought you couldn’t have. 

And then it is ruined. A sharp whistle and laugh from across the lake separates the two of you once more. You turn and see Fili and Kili, holding each other and worse for wear but alive and smiling which you’ll take as a win.

The boys make their way towards you, Thorin never releases his hold on your waist.

“Is it over?” Fili asks.

‘It is now.” Thorin responds.

“Now what?” Kili pops up. Scanning the area around him.

‘We live.” Is your simple reply. Like Kili, you take a moment to look around you. And you really like what you see.

[cow-stealin-gal]

List of Palestine Campaigns

Notes:

some or most of these are the same ones from my previous pinned post.

the owner of Amani and Eman's campaign has stopped donations

Laila Shaqqoura (€27,610 / €45,000)

@lailashaqoura

According to Ahmed Shaqquora, the organizer of the campaign, Laila is a young talented artist who planned to be a dentist and a collection artist before the genocide started. Laila's family at the time of the campaign consisted of Bassam, his wife, and their five children (Laila and Baara were among the mentioned children).

As of June 3rd, Laila and her pregnant mother had fled to Khan Younis where they continue to suffer from horrible living conditions. She started the campaign with the goal of saving her mother from the grave danger that could ultimately kill them. Their campaigns have been verified by nabulsi, fallahifag, el-shab-hussein, ibtisams, and sayruq.

https://gofund.me/f41f2b80

--

Tahani and her family ($18,193 / $50,000)

@tahanibaby

Tahani was an assistant professor at an university who studied Chemistry and Digital Marketing before she lost it once the genocide started.

As of July (and perhaps August), Tahani's family have been living in the prison of fear and despair from the constant reminders of death. From constant street killings to a siege that likely left many casualties to non-stop stomach pains from hunger to the relentless heat that burns them every day. Their mental state is degrading as I write this post.

--

Zaen and Yehya Sehab (€4,294 / €25,000)

@mohammedshehabnew1

Muhammed Sehab is a father of two sons who created a campaign to support his sick parents and to allow his family to flee Gaza from the onslaught of murder throughout the war.

However, due to the lack of donations they fear that they may die before they can escape as the bombing has killed some of their family members, loved ones, and friends. They have endured inhumane conditions, various forms of oppression, disease, pollution, lack of security and medical treatment.

They have been repeatedly displaced from various shelters, tents, and "safe zones" around nine times, which is around the number of times that many families have been displaced.

--

Siraj's Family [Stage 1: Rebuilding their home]

($28,087 / $82,000)

@siraj2024

Siraj is a father who built his family home through ten tireless years of effort that stretched for hours that broke his wallet (huge debt), and yet he also made it with the love for his family.

But it was all destroyed when the IDF unleashed their vicious bombing attacks throughout Gaza, which engulfed Siraj's family home in flames. After the traumatic experience, they had to scramble six times into various tents that barely comforted them, let alone provide safety. His children has lost their chance to enjoy their childhoods as they have no choice but to collect water over lengthy journeys and continuously clean the tents that they reside in.

Not only that, but the family has endured constant threats and evacuation orders day and night, leaving them exhausted.

As of today, Siraj had to trek around 3 kilometers (almost 2 miles) just to receive an internet signal to relay a message that gave me with a twinge of guilt. He remarks on the suffering that the families in Gaza constantly endure where many died and the stark contrast with the families living outside of Gaza, who spend quality time in comfort among themselves. He mentions a recent massacre of over a hundred people in a shelter at the Al-Tabeen School.

He continues to write as much he can with whatever internet connection he is given.

[justiceforvillains]

Don't you care about the Casualties

➽ PAIRING : Vampire Bangchan x Fem Reader

➽ SUMMARY: The Kingdom maintained a fragile pact with vampires, promising no harm would come to either party—until the King's greed got the better of him. As punishment, the powerful vampire Lord Bang claims his firstborn child as his own, sealing the fate of the royal family in a cycle of vengeance and bloodshed. Twenty-four years later, Bang's son, Chan, discovers the king's daughter, Y/N, who is blissfully unaware of her family's dark history, setting the stage for a clash between human innocence and vampire vengeance.

➽ WARNINGS : dead bodies

[Part 2]

In a realm untouched by time, there laid a kingdom shrouded in a thick mist of fear and darkness. For decades, this kingdom had thrived under an unbreakable pact with its dark denizens—the vampires. Enforced under the eerie tranquility of a blood moon, the agreement dictated that no vampire would ever claim the life of a human, and conversely, no human would dare hunt a vampire. Each month, at the stroke of midnight, the royal family would deliver offerings—sheep, goats, and other livestock—to sustain the vampires, ensuring that both sides lived in peace.

Generations passed, and neither humans nor vampires strayed from their promises. The bond, however, began to weaken as the passage of time dulled the edges of fear. Unsatisfied with the status quo, The King, driven by greed and arrogance, began to entertain dangerous thoughts. In his delusions, he convinced himself and his people that the vampires had lost their infernal powers, weakened by the advancement of human weaponry and courage. Boldly, he gathered his most loyal knights and devised a dangerous plan: to invade the vampires' grand castle hidden deep in the woods.

The attack was swift and brutal, yet the King soon discovered the dire consequences of his stupidity. The vampires, far from weakened, rose to defend their domain with ferocity. The clash between the two factions echoed through the expansive realm, but it ended in tragedy for the king. Most of his men lay lifeless at the feet of their undead foes, while the few vampires who fell were mourned by their kin. Among the familiar faces turned cold were the loved ones of Lord Bang, the most powerful vampire of the castle.

Suspended in air by the vampire’s iron grip, The King choked in terror. “Give me one good reason as to why I shouldn't shred your pathetic mortal body to pieces with my bare hands, then destroy and kill everyone you love in your kingdom?” Lord Bang snarled, his voice sharp and dripping with venom.

“Ple-please m-ercy,” the man gasped and clawed at the vampire’s forearm, but the grip only tightened, the red glow of Bang’s eyes piercing through the dark, caving in the king’s pleas for life. With a flick of his wrist, the vampire hurled him across the grand hall, followed by a chilling command to all the vampires behind him: “Rip him apart!”

“NO! Please, I will do anything, please!!” the mortal cried desperately as a pair of vampires restrained him, their fangs glistening ominously.

“Stop!” cried Bang, an unsettling smile curving his lips as he approached the king. “Anything?” His tone dripped with indulgence as he reveled in the human's growing fear.

“Yes! My lord, anything you want. I’m your servant!” the desperate king pled on his knees, barely able to breathe.

“I heard the queen is pregnant?” The question was almost casual, yet it felt like a death sentence to the king.

“Ye-yes,” he stammered, hope quaking within him as he believed he could negotiate his way to safety.

“Your firstborn is mine,” Bang declared, his form suddenly looming above the only alive mortal, his long fingers gripping the King's chin painfully, sharp nails piercing the flesh. “Understood?”

“W-hy?” was the terrified response, but the vampire's hand swiftly moved to the king's throat, holding it tightly.

“YOU DON’T ASK ME QUESTIONS,” Lord Bang hissed, fury pooling in his eyes. “You just obey my orders, understood?” The king nodded swiftly, and the grip released.

“Good. As soon as your firstborn comes of age, they will be sent to live in this castle. Meanwhile, we’ll indulge ourselves in a feast from your beloved kingdom. It’s been far too long since we’ve tasted human blood, ain't that right, brothers and sisters?” The echo of wicked laughter filled the castle, sealing the king’s fate.

When the day finally arrived for the queen to deliver their heir, Bang made his presence known once more. He floated into the royal chamber with a predatory grace, drawing gasps from both parents as he held the newborn. In a dreadful motion, he dragged his sharp nails along the baby's tender skin, drawing blood, leaving behind a crimson trail.

“What did you do to my daughter?” the queen shrieked, yanking the screaming infant from the vampire’s grip. Bang merely smiled, revealing razor-sharp canines that glinted menacingly.

“Oh, don’t worry, dear, it will heal,” he purred with a cruel delight. As if responding to his words, the wound healed, leaving behind a scar that marked the child as eternally bound to the vampire. “It’s just a mark to remind you of who she really belongs to.” With that, he vanished into the shadows, leaving terror in his wake.

“Father, why do you want their child?” Chan asked innocently, his voice laced with confusion as he stared at the gruesome remnants of the royal family’s betrayal with anguish.

“I want them to know pain,” Bang replied, his voice laced with anger. “I want them to witness her grow up, and when the time comes…” His voice turned dark, filled with rage, “We will kill her right before their eyes.”

He crouched to meet his son’s gaze, a fire of vengeance igniting between them. ��Listen, Chan, did you see what they did to us? Did you see how these humans betrayed us? How they will continue to betray us unless we show them fear? Promise me to always seek vengeance for your family. If you ever lay eyes on a human, I want you to kill them slowly.” Chan nodded, hatred already festering in his small heart.

Years turned into decades. The soft whispers of time nurtured the decay of history, and in the heart of a sprawling forest, an unassuming wooden hut sheltered a girl named Lee Y/N. With a spirit as bright as the sun, she was the embodiment of joy, laughter spilling forth effortlessly as she played, oblivious to the sins that followed her family’s Name.

One day, while helping her mother prepare dinner, Y/N glanced at a peculiar scar on her neck. “What is this scar that I have?” she asked, a sweet curiosity lacing her words. Her mother’s body tensed, a flash of fear crossing her face before she cupped Y/N’s cheeks, forcing a gentle smile.

“Don’t worry, honey. You’re beautiful just the way you are.”

Y/N pouted, feeling a familiar ache of uncertainty. There were days when she couldn't shake the feeling that her parents were hiding something big from her. Despite being on the edge of adulthood, her parents clung to control, imposing increasingly ridiculous rules:

1. Never invite anyone inside the house.

2. Don’t talk to strangers.

3. Come home before sunset.

4. Don’t stop to converse with anyone in the woods.

5. Always take the same path home.

These imposed limitations suffocated her spirit, and Y/N often envied the laughter and camaraderie of her peers in the village, longing for companionship but feeling trapped within her sheltered existence. As her 24th birthday approached, she mustered her courage to petition for more freedom.

Her parents noticed the change of the attitude, and despite their concern they bend the rules a little bit for her to stay outside longer, Y/N was an outgoing person she loved to stay out and not holed inside the small hut all day, but that mistake might cause them a lot….

The next few days her parents gave her a little bit of freedom, but the rules were still there, her 24th birthday was near, and she decided to try and convince her parents to let her stay out past sunset, she wanted to watch the stars

She also wanted to visit the town more frequently, she would only go there to buy bread and apples, she only talked to the shop owners, she really wanted to interact with more people, she wanted to have friends..

She was going back to town to get fish from the market, as usual it was crowded but, However, the usual vibrant atmosphere was now tinged with an unsettling tension. People moved anxiously, glancing over their shoulders. Skirting the buzzing crowd, Y/N edged her way to her regular vendor, an elderly woman with a kind smile.

“Good morning,” Y/N greeted cheerfully.

“What will it be today, dear?” the woman replied.

Before she could answer, she heard gasps and yelling when she looked back she saw people clearing the way for a tall broad man with a big Umbrella.

“What's going on?” she was confused the crowd looked scared while the man was simply walking, an old man next to her asked

“Your not from here little girl?”

“No I'm fro-” she stopped herself, her parents told her to never tell anyone where they lived

“far away..”

When she turned back to watch the scene, she found the man right in front of her, the old man gasped “pl-please” he whimpered the man sent him a glare before staring down at you, you didn't know what to do you just stood there looking innocently up at the stranger

“you dare speak in my presence?” you blinked a few times confused, you guessed that the man was very powerful and important, since everyone looked so afraid “uhh sorry..?” The man's expression went from anger to confusion “you're not afraid?”

You was growing impatient you already said sorry, you just wanted to get fish and get home “of what?”

You heard someone whisper “this girl's foolishness is going to cost her her life,” the man just kept staring at you until his eyes widened, you followed his eyes

You immediately covers the scare that was on the side of your neck “you are…” the strangers seemed to be surprised before he backed away, he regained his composition rather quickly before he glared “go home now while I have mercy”

You wanted to protest but all these scared people indirect that this person was dangerous so you just left, your heart pounding in your chest, this is definitely not the kind of conversion you had hoped to have, you decided not to tell your parents you didn't need them to worry

---

“BANCHAN! BANCHAN?!” A furious voice pierced the stillness of the grand chamber.

“What the fuck do you want, Minho? I’m not in the mood!” Bangchan exclaimed, slamming his quill down in irritation, his patience fraying.

“Stop being so pissy; I have GREAT news!” Minho cheered, bouncing excitedly, his energy infectious yet irritating.

“What?” Bangchan viably scoffed, rolling his eyes at the enthusiasm that felt out of place amidst the explosive tension.

“I found HER!” The exuberance spilled from Minho’s lips.

“Who?” Bangchan narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“The king’s daughter!” Minho declared triumphantly, a malicious smile plastered across his face.

The vampire lord started, rising from his seat abruptly, causing his chair to tumble backward. “Where?!”

“Calm down,” Minho teased, swinging his legs playfully as he leaned against the table. “At the fish market. She was the only one who didn’t flinch in fear. I suspect she’s clueless about our existence.”

Bangchan’s expression shifted, an evil grin curling his lips. “And they’ve kept her sheltered all her life?”

“Looks that way. She’s innocent, and oh, so naive,” Minho mused.

A darkness settled over Bangchan as he gazed out the window overlooking the Kingdom of Arathos. “They will pay for their betrayal.”

“When are we going to strike?” Minho pressed, excitement crackling in the air.

Bangchan turned with a serious glint in his eyes. “We? I don’t recall including you in this plan,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“They killed my mother, Chan,” Minho’s tone turned somber. “I won’t rest until I avenge her.”

Bangchan’s shoulders slackened, understanding the undercurrent of pain. “I know, Minho. I promised we would avenge our families, but we must do it in the most painful way possible.”

“What do you have in mind?” Minho asked, intrigue flickering behind his eyes.

The vampire lord smiled darkly, plotting vengeance that rippled with deadly intent. “Trust me…”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

✦ Masterlist ✦

[Part 2]

[pathologicalreid]

the spencer reid dilf agenda

↳ dad!spencer masterlist

*mostly non-continuous AUs

ִ ࣪𖤐 - angst 𐙚 - fluff

pregnant!reader

𐙚 puzzling

↳ trying to tell Spencer you're pregnant, but he's too concerned with your well-being to fill out your custom crossword puzzle

𐙚 (lack of) convenience

↳ in which an impulsive pregnancy test comes up positive, and your first instinct is to hide it from Spencer

𐙚 orange juice

↳ you and Spencer have an announcement to make, but you're not quite sure how to do it

𐙚 goads and goats

↳ telling your dad (who is also your boss) you're having a baby ends in him giving Spencer a hard time

𐙚 amorphous

↳ your first ultrasound appointment goes exactly how you expected it to, but not at all how you wanted it to

𐙚 what to expect

↳ in which you find yourself frustrated at the end of your pregnancy, and Spencer talks you off a ledge

ִ ࣪𖤐 cocoon

↳ in which your life is put in danger during an otherwise routine case, and you haven't even told Spencer about the baby

𐙚i like it when you sleep for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it

↳ in which Spencer Reid is a mosaic of every person he's ever known, and you are the only one who has ever been able to bring him back to the present

girl dad!spencer

𐙚 cryptic

↳ you and Spencer get a surprise beyond your wildest dreams

𐙚 separation anxiety

↳ Spencer's first case back from paternity leave involves children, so a concerned party reaches out to you for help

𐙚 a special occasion

↳ moving your daughter into a toddler bed brings about some interesting conversation

𐙚 blue ribbon

↳ in which you and Spencer dedicate yourselves to helping your daughter with the best baking soda volcano the science fair has ever seen

𖤐 brilliance

↳ in which reader goes into labor after a fight and Spencer is nowhere to be found

ִ ࣪𖤐 extraordinary measures

↳ in which your life hangs in the balance after a brutal attack, and Spencer has to hold himself together for the sake of you and your baby

𐙚 little duck

↳ in which Spencer is too excited about his first Halloween as a dad to remember he's supposed to be celebrating his birthday

𐙚 baby wearing

↳ Spencer Reid. baby wearing. that is all.

𐙚 wrapped around your finger

↳ in which you come home to find Spencer letting your daughter paint his nails

𐙚 green-eyed monster

↳ in which Spencer comforts your oldest daughter when she's jealous of the new addition to the family

𐙚 xoxo

↳ in which your daughter goes to the BAU to hand out her extra Valentines

𐙚 broken wing

↳ in which your daughter is convinced a fractured wrist means the end of her ballet career, you and Spencer have to convince her otherwise

boy dad!spencer

𐙚 three's a family

↳ in which you go into labor without ever knowing you were pregnant and Spencer has to help you through it

ִ ࣪𖤐 wavelength

↳ in which your son ends up in the hospital on one of the BAUs busiest nights of the year

ִ ࣪𖤐 too heavy to hold

↳ in which you and Spencer grieve the loss of the most important person in your life, your son

𐙚 shelter from the storm

↳ in which your son comes to your room in the middle of the night seeking the safety of his father's arms.

family

ִ ࣪𖤐 here with me

↳ four times Spencer feels out of place in your house after being released from prison, and one time it's like he never left

ִ ࣪𖤐 all the debts i owe

↳ in which Spencer takes your kids into account when deciding whether or not he should take a plea deal, and it doesn't go the way you expect

𐙚 christmas (baby please come home)

↳ in which Spencer isn't home to put his kids to bed on Christmas Eve, but they wake up to a surprise on Christmas morning

[03jyh23]

💬⌇like i need you part one┆ jeong yunho

│part of goes to waste the series based on my favourite keshi songs

│listen here

│part two

non-idol!yunho x non-idol!reader

│synopsis: yunho's love for you burns fiercely. as lovers turned exes, he's left shattered when you leave, moving out of the apartment you once shared. his nights become a blur of desperation, calling you relentlessly, begging for another chance.

│genre: lovers to exes, angst

│(!)trigger warnings:  alcohol abuse, smoking cigarettes, emotional abuse, panic attacks, mental health issues, toxic relationships, vomiting, self-destructive behavior, emotional trauma

│words: 6.1 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there! after an unholy amount of time I decided to continue with goes to waste series, i missed writing pure angst so much so... enjoy!!

love, mon♡

│taglist: @skittyneos │ @kyeos4ng │ @vcutparis │ @hoeforalbedo │

│ @ateezswonderland │ @jycas│ @velvetskize │ @e3ellie │

│ @sertralinehoe │

"Yunho, we’re better off alone," you said with a voice that trembled as you were packing your suitcase in a hurry. "I can't do this anymore," you choked out the urgency to leave was overwhelming; you needed to get out of this apartment. The suffocating weight of guilt and pain made every breath a struggle. Your perfect life with him had become a beautiful prison, and you were desperately clawing your way out. Yunho was crying, his pretty eyes red and swollen from the endless stream of tears. Despite his emotional turmoil, his breathing remained eerily calm, almost as if he had resigned himself to this moment. Each piece of clothing you hastily stuffed into your suitcase, Yunho took out and threw on the floor, his actions a silent but desperate plea for you to reconsider. The room was filled with a tense silence, broken only by the sound of clothes hitting the floor and the occasional sniffle from Yunho.

"I need you to stay," he said, his voice determined as he grabbed your wrist to stop you from taking any more of your belongings. His grip was firm but not painful, a testament to how desperately he wanted to hold on to you. "Please," he whispered, his voice breaking as he grabbed your wrist. His touch was tender despite his desperation. "Baby, please don't go. Whatever I did, I'll fix it. I'll be better, I swear to fucking god, I'll do anything." The raw pain in his voice made your heart shatter into a million pieces. The intensity of his gaze bore into you, pleading for you to reconsider, to see the love and pain in his eyes. The room seemed to shrink around you, the walls closing in. His voice wavered slightly as he continued, "Please, don't leave. We can work this out." The sincerity in his tone was undeniable, "I don’t even know what I did wrong, please talk to me," Yunho said, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions.

"I feel like I'm drowning, Yunho," you confessed, your voice barely audible. "Every day, I wake up and I don't recognize myself anymore. I've lost my dreams, my ambitions... I've become nothing but your girlfriend, and it's killing me." The words felt like poison on your tongue, but they were the truth you'd been avoiding for months.

"That's bullshit!" Yunho's voice cracked with emotion. "I've never tried to stop you from being yourself. I've supported every fucking dream you've ever had!" His free hand clenched into a fist, but even in his anger, his grip on your wrist remained gentle. "Four years, baby. Four fucking years of building a life together, and you're just going to throw it all away? Throw me away?” His eyes blazed with a mix of anger and desperation, his free hand clenching and unclenching as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "You will either tell me the truth or you are not leaving," Yunho said, his voice firm and unwavering. The intensity in his eyes bore into yours, making it clear that he wouldn't back down. "I can't let you walk out of my life without understanding why. Don’t you think I deserve to know the truth?" His grip on your wrist tightened slightly, not out of anger but out of sheer desperation. "Please, just tell me the truth," he pleaded, his voice softening as he searched your eyes for any sign of honesty. "I need to know why you're doing this. I need to understand."

"You're suffocating me with your love," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "You're so perfect, so goddamn perfect that I can't breathe. Every time I fail, you're there to catch me. Every time I fall, you pick me up. How am I supposed to grow when you never let me face anything on my own?"

Yunho's eyes widened with realization and hurt. "So loving you too much is my crime?" His voice was soft, broken. "Baby, if you need space, I'll give you space. If you need time, take all the time in the world. Just... please don't leave like this."

"It's not that simple," you said, your voice trembling. "I need to find myself again, and I can't do that when every part of my life is intertwined with yours. I wake up to you, I fall asleep to you, I breathe you, I dream you. I've lost myself in you completely."

"Then let me help you find yourself again," he pleaded, his eyes full of unconditional love despite the pain you were causing him. "We can figure this out together. I'll do anything, be anything you need. Just don't throw away everything we have."

"That's exactly the problem," you whispered, gently pulling your wrist from his grip. "You'd sacrifice everything for me, and I can't bear that responsibility anymore. I need to learn to stand on my own two feet."

Yunho took a step back, his hand falling away from your wrist. He looked like he wanted to say something, to argue, to plead with you to stay, but no words came out. Instead, he just stood there, stunned and heartbroken. Yunho looked more vulnerable than you'd ever seen him. "I love you so fucking much it hurts," he finally said, "And if leaving is what you need... if it will make you happy... then go. But know that I'll be right here, waiting, hoping that one day you'll find your way back to me."

You grabbed your only half-packed suitcase, some of your belongings still scattered on the floor where Yunho had thrown them. He observed you, his broken breaths the only sound in the room. "So you don't love me anymore?" he asked, but you couldn't answer him. You knew if you let yourself think about it, if you let yourself feel, you would stay - and that wasn't an option. At the threshold, you turned back one last time. The sight of him - your beautiful, loving Yunho - standing there with tears streaming down his face, still looking at you with nothing but love and understanding, nearly broke your resolve.

You looked down at the floor, unable to bear the heartbreak etched on his face. "I'm sorry," you said, your voice trembling. "I didn't want it to end like this, but I can't keep pretending. It's not fair to either of us.”

"Please..." his voice cracked with desperation, "Tell me you still love me. Even if it's a lie, just say it one more time." His eyes were pleading, filled with tears as he reached for your hand once again. "I need to hear it. Just once more. Please, baby." The raw vulnerability in his voice made your heart shatter all over again. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, knowing that if you did, if you saw the love and pain mixing in those beautiful eyes of his, you’d drop your bag and stay.

You finally broke down and started to cry, a lump forming in your throat as you decided to keep silent. Your hand slipped from his grasp, and the loss of contact felt like losing a piece of yourself. The tears streamed down your face as you watched his fingers curl into empty air where your hand had been just moments before. Your silence spoke volumes - it was both your answer and your goodbye.

As you closed the door behind you, the sound echoing through the empty hallway, you could hear his muffled sobs. Each step away from him felt like a knife in your heart, but you kept walking. Sometimes love isn't enough, and sometimes finding yourself means losing the person who helped you become who you are.

"Hi Y/N," loud music in the background makes it hard to understand Mingi's voice through the phone. "Could you please come pick Yunho up?’’ the tone of his voice makes it clear that something bad happened, and your mind starts racing with scenarios. "I don't know what’s gotten into him, but he's been drinking non-stop and has already poured liters of alcohol into himself. I've tried everything to get him to leave with me, but he refuses."

"Did he tell you what happened?" you asked as you got up from the sofa, taking the towel off of your freshly washed hair. The urgency in Mingi's voice made your heart pound faster, and you couldn't ignore the knot of worry tightening in your chest.

"All night he didn't say much," Mingi replied, his voice strained. "Just kept mumbling your name and saying he needed you. Please, just come. I'm worried about him." You could hear the genuine concern in Mingi's voice, and it spurred you into action.

"I even called San to help," Mingi added, "You know he's fucking strong but even he couldn't force Yunho up. Poor guy’s so tired he's skipping gym tomorrow. If only Yunho wasn't so goddamn tall, San would've easily picked him up and left with him on his back." Mingi's frustration was palpable, and it only added to the sense of urgency you felt to get to Yunho. You felt your heart sink at the thought of him being in such a state. Despite everything that had happened between you, the idea of him suffering tore at your conscience. Your hands trembled slightly as you grabbed your keys.

"Could you bring his coat with you?" Mingi added, his voice tinged with concern though an edge of irritation was starting to creep in. "It's freezing outside, and this idiot came wearing only a denim jacket. He's going to get sick at this rate."

"Mingi, I..." you sighed heavily, fumbling sounds echoing through the phone as you frantically searched for something to wear. Your heart was already racing with anxiety at what you needed to tell him. "I moved out last week."

The silence that followed was deafening. You could practically feel Mingi's shock radiating through the phone. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely controlled, each word carefully measured. "You... you moved out?"

"As in... you moved out from yours and Yunho's apartment? Alone?" Mingi's voice grew increasingly strained with each question. "Only you moved out? He stayed?" The confusion in his voice gave way to something darker, and you could picture him pacing back and forth, running his hand through his hair in frustration as he tried to process this.

"Yes," you replied, "I moved out last week. Yunho and I... we broke up." The words felt like glass in your throat, cutting deeper with each syllable.

Mingi's breathing became audibly heavier on the other end. "I had no idea," he finally said, his voice now ice-cold. "Yeah, then I guess, um... don't bother coming?" The bitterness in his tone was unmistakable, and you could hear muffled cursing as he turned away from the phone.

"Mingi, please," you begged softly, "I can't just leave him like that."

"Well, haven't you already left him?" Mingi exploded, his voice rising sharply. You could hear the raw anger in his words now, no longer bothering to mask his feelings. "You know what's fucking hilarious? My best friend - my brother - had been drowning himself in alcohol all night, and I had no idea why. And now it all makes sense." His voice cracked slightly with emotion. "Yunho loved you, hell he still loves you, more than anything in this world, without a single doubt. Do you even realize that?" Mingi's breath came out in a shaky exhale, and when he spoke again, his voice was trembling with barely contained rage. "You know, he would never, ever leave you," he said, each word deliberate and cutting. "I've watched him pour his entire heart into making you happy. Every single day, he'd talk about you with stars in his eyes. He'd move heaven and earth just to see you smile. And now..." His voice broke. "Now I'm watching him destroy himself because of you, and it's tearing me apart."

The silence that followed was suffocating. You could hear the distant thump of bass music and Mingi's ragged breathing. "Yunho is in a really fucking bad state right now," he continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. "And even though every fiber of my being is screaming not to let you anywhere near him again, he needs you."

"So if you ever truly loved him - if any part of what you had was real - you'll come and help him get through tonight," Mingi's voice was now deadly serious. "We're at Newonce. And let me make something crystal clear: if you don't show up, don't even think about trying to talk to him ever again. I swear to god, I won't let you breathe the same air as him after this."

You hurriedly grabbed your coat with trembling hands and rushed out of your apartment, your mind spinning with a mixture of worry, guilt, and fear. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, and you didn't even know why it was happening. Did your actions really set Yunho on edge? Was he really coping that badly? You felt a knot tighten in your chest, making it hard to breathe. The thought of him in such a state because of you was almost unbearable. You had hoped that leaving would somehow make things easier for both of you, but now it seemed like you had only caused more pain. The tears spilled over, running down your cheeks as you struggled to find the strength to face the consequences of your actions. You frantically waved down a taxi, your hands shaking as you gave the driver directions to Newonce. The ride felt endless, each red light an eternity as your imagination tortured you with images of Yunho's state.

When you finally pushed through the club's doors, the assault of pulsing music and strobing lights felt like a mockery of the heaviness in your heart. You fought your way through the crowd, scanning desperately for familiar faces. Then you saw them - Mingi standing rigidly by the bar, his face etched with concern and barely concealed anger, San leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and an icy stare that cut right through you, and Yunho... Your heart nearly stopped. He was slumped over, looking more broken than you'd ever seen him.

"Yunho," you called out, your voice catching in your throat as you rushed to his side. His head lifted slowly at the sound of your voice, and for a brief moment, his eyes lit up with that familiar warmth that had always been reserved just for you. But then reality seemed to crash back in, and his gaze clouded over with pain and confusion that made your chest ache.

"Y/N?" he mumbled, his voice thick and slurred. "Is it really you baby? Are you really here?"

"Yes, it's me," you whispered, gently placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to ignore how he instinctively leaned into your touch. "Let's get you home, okay?"

Mingi watched the interaction with barely contained fury simmering beneath his concerned exterior. He stepped closer, his tall frame looming over you, eyes dark with warning. "You better take good care of him," he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "He doesn't deserve any of this. And if you hurt him again..." He left the threat unfinished, but his meaning was clear. San remained silent throughout the exchange, but his piercing gaze never left you, his usually warm eyes now cold and unforgiving.

You nodded mutely, Mingi's words and San's silent judgment pressed down on you like a physical burden. Together, you helped get Yunho to his feet. San helped you guide him to the waiting taxi, his movements efficient but distant, refusing to acknowledge your whispered "thank you" as you settled into the backseat. Yunho immediately clung to you, his head resting in the crook of your neck, his lips millimeters from your skin, his breath tingling against your collarbone. He looked at you with his big puppy eyes, and you found yourself once again lost in them, unable to tear your gaze away.

"Your hair's wet, baby," he mumbled out, his voice slurred but filled with concern. One of his hands ran through the ends of your damp hair, his touch gentle and familiar. "M-My baby's gonna catch a cold." You felt a lump forming in your throat as you watched him, despite the alcohol coursing through his veins, Yunho's instinct to care for you remained strong. It was moments like these that made leaving him so incredibly difficult.

The drive back to his apartment was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by Yunho's occasional mumbling of your name. Each time he said it, the sound was like a knife twisting in your heart, carrying all the love and pain you'd caused. When you finally arrived, you helped him inside, settling him gently onto the bed that still held so many memories of happier times.

As you looked around the apartment, your heart sank at the state of disarray. Unwashed dishes were piled high in the sink, a reminder of how things had fallen apart. The curtains were drawn tight, casting the room in a gloomy shadow that matched the heaviness in your chest. Your clothes, the ones you'd left behind in your hurried departure, were still scattered across the bed - a t-shirt here, a sweater there, like abandoned pieces of your shared life. On the desk, your framed pictures remained untouched, frozen moments of happiness that now felt like they belonged to different people. Empty soju bottles lay on its side near the bed, and beside it—your heart clenched—sat an ashtray. The sight stole your breath. Yunho had quit smoking the moment you moved in together. Now the scent of cigarettes mingled with his familiar cologne, making your chest ache. The half-filled ashtray revealed how much he'd changed since you left, each stubbed-out cigarette marking his pain.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your vision blurring with tears as you brushed a strand of hair from his face. Your fingers lingered for a moment, remembering countless times you'd made the same gesture in love rather than guilt. "I'm so, so sorry."

As you stood there, battling with your conscience, Yunho's hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your wrist. "Please," he mumbled, his voice thick with need, "just stay with me." Before you could protest, he pulled you down with surprising strength, causing you to fall onto his chest with a soft gasp. His arms immediately wrapped around you, holding you close against him. The familiar warmth of his body enveloped you completely, and you felt yourself melting into his embrace despite your better judgment. His heartbeat thundered beneath your ear, strong and steady, a rhythm you'd fallen asleep to countless times before.

"Just for tonight," he whispered into your hair, his grip tightening slightly as if afraid you'd disappear. "Please, baby... just tonight." The desperation in his voice made your heart ache, and you found yourself unable to pull away from his warmth, from the comfort of being in his arms again.

You knew you should leave, that staying would only make things harder in the morning, but his embrace felt like coming home. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, and even in his drunken state, his touch was gentle, reverent. The scent of his cologne mixed with the trace of alcohol filled your senses, bringing back a flood of memories you'd tried so hard to suppress.

"I miss you," he breathed against your temple, his words slurring slightly. "I miss you so much it hurts." His confession hung heavy in the air between you, raw and honest in a way that only alcohol could bring out. You felt tears prick at your eyes as his words hit home, knowing that come morning, this moment of vulnerability would only add to the pain you both carried.

"Oh god, I am so in love with you," Yunho whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and desperation. His hand traced your jawline gently as if trying to memorize every curve and contour of your face. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you could feel his love and longing in every delicate caress. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "You've become my everything, and the thought of losing you forever terrifies me."

You felt a lump form in your throat as you listened to his heartfelt confession. The sincerity in his words made it difficult to hold back your own emotions. "Yunho," you began, your voice trembling slightly, "I..."

But before you could finish, he placed a finger on your lips, silencing you gently. "Please," he said, his eyes locking onto yours, "just let me hold you for a little while longer. Let me pretend, even if it's just for tonight, that everything is okay."

You nodded, unable to find the words to express how you felt. As he pulled you into his arms, you buried your face in his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. At that moment, it felt as if time had stopped, and the world outside ceased to exist. All that mattered was the two of you, holding on to each other as if your lives depended on it.

And maybe, in a way, they did.

"I love you so much," Yunho slurred as he leaned closer, his breath hitching with quiet sobs as it mingled with yours, "I... I don't know what I'll do without you," he continued, his voice breaking completely as he struggled to speak through his tears. "It's killing me. It's killing me, and I can't... I can't breathe without you." A heart-wrenching sob escaped his lips. His gaze shifted to your lips, and before you could process what was happening, he closed the distance between you. The kiss was gentle at first, hesitant and tender, filled with all the unspoken words and emotions that had built up between you. His lips were soft against yours, tasting faintly of alcohol, cigarettes, and something uniquely Yunho.

As you melted into the kiss, his hand moved to cup your face, thumb gently stroking your cheek. The familiar gesture made your heart ache with longing. The kiss deepened, becoming more desperate, more needy, as if he was trying to pour every ounce of his love and pain into this one moment.

When you finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Yunho rested his forehead against yours. Tears were streaming down his face again, and you could feel the wetness on your own cheeks. "Please," he whispered brokenly, "please don't let this be goodbye."

You reached up to wipe away his tears, your heart breaking at the sight of his vulnerability. The warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips reminded you of all the reasons you'd fallen in love with him in the first place. At that moment, surrounded by the quiet darkness of an apartment you shared for years and the weight of everything unsaid between you, you found yourself unable to form the words that would either heal or destroy what remained of your relationship.

Instead, you found yourself drawing him closer, letting his warmth envelope you completely as his breathing began to even out. His grip on you remained steady even as sleep started to claim him, and you knew that come morning, everything would be different - but for now, this moment was all that existed. And just like that, you let yourself fall asleep.

Your half-conscious state was violently interrupted as Yunho suddenly jerked upright, the movement nearly throwing your aching body off the bed. Through bleary eyes still heavy from crying, you watched him stumble to his feet. Before your sleep-addled mind could fully process what was happening, he had already bolted to the bathroom, the sound of retching echoing through the apartment.

"Yunho?" You followed him, heart racing with concern. He was hunched over the toilet, his broad shoulders heaving violently as he emptied the contents of his stomach. The sound of his retching echoed off the bathroom tiles, making your chest tighten with worry. Without thinking, you reached out to rub his back in a comforting gesture, but he flinched away from your touch as if it burned.

"Don't," he spat out between heaves, his voice raw and bitter, laced with a pain that went deeper than physical illness. "Just... don't fucking touch me. Not now. Not like this."

The venom in his voice made you take several steps back, your hand still suspended in the air between you. "I'm just trying to help—"

"Help?" He laughed, a hollow, broken sound that seemed to bounce off the walls and pierce straight through your heart. He wiped his mouth with the back of his trembling hand, finally turning to face you. His eyes were clearer now, the alcohol haze replaced by something far more terrifying – complete and devastating clarity. "Where was this fucking help when you walked out on us? When you decided I wasn't enough? When you left me alone with nothing but silence and unanswered messages?"

"That's not... that's not what happened," you stammered, feeling hot tears begin to well up in your eyes, blurring your vision. "You know that's not what happened. It was more complicated than that."

"Do I?" He stood up abruptly, towering over you in the cramped bathroom, his presence filling the small space with an almost suffocating intensity. "Because I don't know shit anymore. I don't know why the person I love more than anything in this goddamn world decided to throw everything away like it meant nothing. I don't know why you're here now, playing nurse to my drunk, pathetic ass, acting like you give a fuck about what happens to me!"

"Of course I give a fuck!" The tears were falling freely now, hot trails down your cheeks as your voice cracked with emotion. "How can you think I don't care? After everything we've been through? I love—"

"DON'T!" he roared, slamming his hand against the wall with such force that the mirror rattled, making you jump backward. "Don't you dare say those words. You lost that right. You lost it when you..." His voice broke, and you could see tears forming in his own bloodshot eyes, threatening to spill over. "Just get out. Please, just... get the fuck out before I completely fall apart."

"Yunho, please," you sobbed, reaching for him desperately, your fingers grasping at empty air between you. "Can we just talk about this? I never meant to hurt you like this—"

"To what?" he cut you off, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that felt more devastating than his shouts. "To come back here and make me feel like the biggest fucking idiot for still being in love with you? For making me think, just for a moment, that maybe there was still hope for us?" He ran his hands through his disheveled hair in frustration, tears now streaming freely down his face, catching in his stubble. "God, I'm such a pathetic piece of shit for still wanting you after everything."

You stood there, chest heaving with uncontrollable sobs, watching helplessly as the man you loved tore himself apart in front of you. The worst part was knowing that you were the reason for his pain, that every tear he shed, every broken word he spoke, was because of choices you'd made, paths you'd chosen to walk away from.

"I said get out!" he shouted when you didn't move, his voice breaking on the last word like shattered glass. "I can't... I can't even look at you right now. Please, just... leave. Like you're so good at doing. It's what you do best, isn't it?"

That final jab felt like a physical blow to your chest, knocking the air from your lungs. You stumbled backward, barely able to see through the thick veil of tears as you fumbled to grab your things. The last glimpse you caught of him through the bathroom doorway was an image that would haunt you forever – the love of your life slumped against the cold tile wall, head buried in his trembling hands, broad shoulders shaking with silent, devastating sobs.

As you fled his apartment, the violent sound of something shattering against a wall followed you out into the hallway, the crash mixing with your own heartbroken cries in the empty corridor. Each step away from him felt like walking on broken glass, leaving trails of both your shattered hearts in your wake.

Your hands were shaking so violently you could barely hold your phone, fingers trembling as you tried to unlock it through the blur of tears. Each breath came in sharp, painful gasps that felt like shards of glass in your lungs. The sound of whatever Yunho broke is still echoing in your head, mixing with the memory of his broken sobs, and oh god, oh god, what if he hurts himself? The thought sends another wave of panic crashing through you.

You manage to find Mingi's contact through pure muscle memory because you can barely see the screen through your tears. "Please be awake, please be fucking awake," you whisper desperately as the phone rings. Your free hand is pressed against the wall of the hallway, trying to keep yourself upright as the edges of your vision start to blur. The panic is closing in, making everything feel distant and too close all at once.

"Hello?" Mingi's voice is rough with sleep, but it's there, thank fuck it's there. "Do you know what fucking time it is—"

"M-Mingi," you choke out, and something in your voice must sound absolutely fucking wrecked because he immediately goes quiet. "I... I need... Yunho, he's..." You can't get the words out between your gasping breaths, each inhale feeling shorter than the last.

"Hey, hey, breathe for me," Mingi's voice shifts instantly from sleepy to alert, concern evident in every word. "Where are you? What happened with Yunho?"

"I f-fucked up," you sobbed, sliding down the wall because your legs couldn't hold you anymore. "I think he's still drunk, and we... there was... I heard something break after I left, Mingi, he's so fucking broken and it's my fault, it's all my fault, and I can't... I can't breathe, I can't—"

"Listen to me," Mingi cuts through your spiral, his voice firm but gentle. "I'm getting dressed right now. I'm coming over. I swear to fucking god if both of my best friends end up in the hospital today—"

Another crash echoes from inside Yunho's apartment, followed by what sounds like a strangled scream, and you let out a broken wail. "Please hurry," you begged, your voice barely recognizable to your own ears. "Please, Mingi, I'm scared, I'm so fucking scared—"

"You need to get out of there," he says firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Stay on the line with me until you're in a taxi, okay? I'll make sure you get home safe."

"But I can't—I don't want to be alone, I don't wanna leave him" you choke out between sobs, clutching the phone tighter.

"I know, but trust me, this is for the best right now," Mingi's voice softens with sympathy. "I'll handle Yunho. Just please, get yourself home safely. Don't hang up until you're in that taxi."

You nod numbly, forcing yourself to stand on shaky legs. The sound of your footsteps feels thunderous in the empty hallway as you make your way to the elevator, Mingi's steady breathing on the line anchoring you to reality. Your trembling fingers somehow manage to open your ride-sharing app, and you hear yourself giving your address to the driver in a voice that sounds far away, even to your own ears.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

[rimaahgaza]

Dear Friends,

Please read this as if I'm a member of your family. maybe your sister, daughter or a friend and as if my family who's under death now is yours.

I’m reaching out to you with a heartfelt plea for assistance. My family and I are seeking to escape the relentless cycle of violence, destruction, and deprivation in Gaza. The ongoing conflict has stripped us of our livelihoods and deprived our children of their right to education and basic human rights.

My name is Rima Ali, and I am from the Gaza. I am a mother of three children: Mohammed (13), Yousef (11), and Sidra (1.5). The ongoing conflict has stripped us of our livelihoods and deprived my children of their right to education and basic human rights. Before the war, we led a modest yet fulfilling life. However, the conflict has turned our world upside down. We lost our jobs, our home, and the future we had envisioned for our children. The daily struggle for survival in a war-torn region is unimaginable. We dream of a life where our children can go to school without fear, where we can work and contribute to society, and where we can live with dignity and hope.

My beautiful children

My children, especially Mohammed (13) who has a rare condition called G6PD deficiency or favism, are struggling due to the scarcity of food and malnutrition. Limited access to food restricts his diet, impacting his health and development. Even baby Sidra celebrated her first year during the war under dire conditions, lacking even basic needs like diapers and milk.

I have suffered lot of great losses during this harsh time of war. I lost my dear sister and her daughter in a shelling attack last December. My sister was my soulmate, and her loss has left a void in my heart. My mother was seriously injured by shrapnel from three shells that hit the house where she was seeking refuge. Her condition requires immediate attention, which is why I am reaching out for your support. The cost of her medical treatment and the logistics of transporting her to a safe place for proper care are significant. Your donations can help save her life and alleviate some of the immense burdens we are facing.

Humanitarian Aid for Gaza Families

Our home, once a sanctuary of warmth and security, now lies in ruins, a stark reminder of the indiscriminate nature of conflict. Everything we own and possess have been completely destroyed by the relentless shelling in Gaza. The devastation has left us struggling to survive without basic necessities. We have no water, no electricity, no communication, and no safe shelter. Each day is a battle for survival under these harsh conditions.

Our home before the war

The continuous shelling has made it impossible for us to find safe shelter. Our home, once a place of comfort and security, has been reduced to rubble. We have been forced to move multiple times, seeking refuge wherever we can find it. Our longest period of displacement was in Rafah, a city in the south of Gaza. Here, we faced extreme hardships, with overcrowded conditions and limited resources. The lack of water and electricity severely affects our daily lives. We are unable to cook proper meals, access clean drinking water, or even maintain basic hygiene. Yet amidst the rubble, a glimmer of hope remains, fueled by the resilience of the human spirit and the generosity of strangers.

Our home after the war

By a miracle and the generosity of friends, I managed to borrow enough money to escape Gaza with my children through the Rafah border. The cost was $5,000 per person. We are now in Egypt, but my family in Gaza continues to suffer. I am reaching out to you for help. My family is still trapped in the dangerous Nusierat camp, which is currently under attack. I desperately need financial support to evacuate them and to sustain my children and me in Egypt. We are struggling to afford rent and food.

Your donations, no matter how small, will save lives. They will help bring my family to safety and provide us with the means to rebuild our lives. If you are unable to donate, please share our story on social media using relevant hashtags like #GazaCrisisRelief, #HelpGazaFamilies, and #SupportPalestinianFamilies.

Your support means the world to us. Thank you for reading and for your compassion. From the bottom of my heart, I appreciate your help.

Thank you for your generosity and support!

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 36 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⋆˚࿔ Book 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇REUNION CHAPTER!!

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

The battle raged around them, but for Telemachus and Raphael, the world had narrowed to just the two of them. Swords clashed in a violent symphony, sparks flying with every brutal strike. Telemachus was relentless, his rage fueling his every move, years of grief, anger, and desperation unleashed in a flurry of savage blows. Raphael, usually composed, was on the defensive, barely able to parry against the sheer force behind Telemachus’ attacks.

“You stole my wife,” Telemachus growled, swinging his blade in a vicious arc. Raphael barely dodged in time, staggering back.

“You abandoned her,” Raphael snapped, countering with a sharp thrust. Telemachus knocked it aside with ease, his next strike sending Raphael crashing against a pillar. Blood dripped from his lip, but he still managed to smirk. “You left her, and I picked up the pieces. She’s mine now, Telemachus. You lost.”

Telemachus saw red.

With a snarl, he lunged, slamming Raphael to the ground, his knee pressing into the man’s chest. His sword hovered inches from Raphael’s throat, the tip biting into his skin just enough to draw blood. Raphael gritted his teeth, trying to push him off, but Telemachus was stronger. He pressed down harder, watching as Raphael struggled beneath him.

It would be so easy to end it.

One final push. One final strike.

And yet—y/n.

Her name surged through his mind like a firebrand, her face flashing before him. She was here, somewhere in this damned palace, waiting—maybe hoping—praying that he would come for her.

His grip faltered. Raphael choked out a laugh, sensing the hesitation. “Go ahead,” he rasped, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. “Kill me. But you’re too late, Telemachus. You’ll always be too late.” Telemachus’ breath came fast and ragged. He should have done it. He should have slit Raphael’s throat right there and then, watched the life drain from his arrogant eyes.

Instead, he let go. He pushed off, leaving Raphael coughing and bleeding on the marble floor, too wounded to stand.

There was no time.

Y/n.

Telemachus turned and ran.

——-

She sat curled on the floor of her chamber, her arms wrapped tightly around Phebie, who sobbed into her chest. The little girl trembled, clutching onto her mother’s chiton with tiny, desperate fingers. The room was dimly lit by the flickering oil lamp, casting long shadows across the walls as the distant echoes of battle rang through the palace.

Pandora’s mind was spinning. Where was Adonis? She had seen him earlier with his father, but then the chaos erupted, and now—now she didn’t know. Her heart clenched with panic, her throat tightening as she rocked Phebie gently, trying to soothe her cries while struggling to suppress her own. Then she heard it—heavy footsteps approaching the chamber.

Her breath hitched.

The door creaked open. A tall figure loomed in the doorway, clad in bronze armor, his helmet casting a shadow over his face. The lamplight reflected off the smooth metal, making him appear almost otherworldly.

Her body locked up. She tightened her hold on Phebie, pressing the child protectively against her chest as terror consumed her. “Please,” she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please, spare us.” The armored figure froze.For a moment, there was only silence. Then, slowly, he reached up and removed his helmet. Dark curls tumbled free. Sharp, familiar features were illuminated by the dim glow of the lamp. Her breath caught in her throat.

It was him.

Telemachus.

Her eyes widened in disbelief, her grip on Phebie slackening for just a moment. Telemachus stood before her, battle-worn and weary, but undeniably real. His face was lined with something raw—something broken. He had heard her plea. He had seen the fear in her eyes. And it shattered him.

Telemachus took a slow step forward, then another, before lowering himself onto one knee before her. His movements were careful, deliberate—like approaching a wounded animal that might bolt at any sudden motion. His eyes, dark with emotion, softened as he took in the sight of her: trembling, clutching Phebie as if she were her last tether to reality, her cheeks streaked with silent tears.

“My love,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. She flinched slightly, her breath coming in ragged gasps. He could see it—she was terrified, not of him, but of what he represented. She had spent years trapped in another man’s world, another man’s arms, and now, as she stared at Telemachus, she looked as if she couldn’t tell if she were dreaming or waking into another nightmare.

Gently, so gently, he reached out, his fingers ghosting over her arm before finally making contact. She tensed under his touch, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let his thumb brush over her skin, slow and warm, as if to remind her that he was real—that he was here.

“It’s me,” he said, voice breaking slightly. “I’m here, y/n. I found you.” Her lower lip quivered. More tears welled up, slipping down her cheeks in silent streams. She shook her head as if denying it, as if trying to reject the hope that threatened to bloom in her chest. Telemachus moved closer, wrapping an arm around her, guiding her into his embrace. She didn’t resist. She collapsed into him, her body wracked with quiet sobs as she buried her face into the curve of his neck.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, holding her like she was the most fragile thing in the world. His lips pressed against the crown of her head, then her temple, then her tear streaked cheek. He kissed her with aching tenderness, his fingers stroking through her tangled hair, whispering reassurances that he wasn’t going to let her go again.

She wept into him, gripping onto him with desperate fingers, clinging to the warmth, the familiarity, the safety. For the first time in years, she wasn’t alone. She burrowed into Telemachus’ neck, her fingers clutching the fabric of his armor as though he might disappear if she let go. His warmth surrounded her, grounding her in a way she hadn’t felt in years. The scent of him—salt, sweat, and battle—was familiar, painfully so. It brought back memories of long-forgotten safety, of nights spent in his arms before the world tore them apart.

Telemachus held her just as tightly, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other resting carefully against her back. But even as relief flooded through him at having her in his arms again, a dreadful thought gnawed at the edge of his mind. He pulled back just enough to look at her, brushing a few strands of hair from her tear-streaked face. His brow furrowed as his gaze flickered down to the small child she was clutching protectively. A little girl. Small, fragile, with dark curls and wide, frightened eyes.

His stomach twisted.

“Y/n,” he murmured, his voice low and cautious, “where is Adonis?” She stiffened against him, her breath hitching. Her grip on Phebie tightened.

“I… I don’t know,” she whispered. It wasn’t a lie—she truly didn’t know where Raphael had taken him in the chaos. But the weight of guilt settled heavily in her chest. She should have fought harder to find him, to keep him by her side. Telemachus’ jaw clenched, his fingers pressing gently into her arms as if searching for the truth in her trembling form.

“And…” He hesitated, glancing down at the child in her arms. “Who is this?” She swallowed thickly, her arms instinctively drawing Phebie closer.

“She’s mine,” she said simply. It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the answer he was asking for, either. Telemachus stared at her for a long moment, searching her face. Searching for something—anything—that would explain why she suddenly looked so much smaller, why she seemed to be holding something back.

But now wasn’t the time. He exhaled sharply, pressing another kiss to her forehead before pulling her tightly to his chest once more. “Then we’ll find Adonis,” he promised, voice firm. “We’ll find him, and I’ll take you both home.”

She swallowed back the lump in her throat, pressing her face into his shoulder. She wished it were that simple.

——

Adonis ran, his breath coming in ragged sobs, his small legs barely keeping up with the chaos that surrounded him. The battlefield was nearly silent now, save for the occasional groan of the dying and the crackling of fires licking at ruined banners. The stench of blood and smoke filled his lungs, but none of it mattered.

His father was dead.

He had seen it. A stranger—faceless in the dim torchlight—had driven a blade straight into Raphael’s side. Adonis had screamed, but no one had stopped. No one had listened. And then his father fell, his body crumpling against the marble steps of the palace. Now, his only thought was finding his mother and Phebie. He sprinted toward the palace, his heart hammering against his ribs. But as he neared the entrance, his breath caught in his throat.

The “man” from before—the one who had taken everything from him—was standing there, holding his mother. His mother, crying and pressed against the stranger’s chest. His little sister, clinging to her. Adonis’ small hands curled into fists. His chest heaved. His vision blurred with a mix of fury and grief. His father was gone, and now this man—this invader—was taking his mother and sister, too.

No.

His eyes darted to the ground, to the bodies of the fallen, to the discarded weapons scattered around. His hands grasped the hilt of a heavy sword, the metal slick with blood, and he lifted it with all the strength his small frame could muster. “Let them go!” he shouted, his voice cracking from the rawness of his throat. His entire body trembled, but he held the blade aloft, his stance wild and desperate.

The moment the words left his mouth, Telemachus’ entire body stiffened. That voice. His breath caught, and he slowly turned to face the boy. His heart lurched, his mind barely processing what he was seeing. The boy standing before him, sword in hand, was small but fierce. His dark hair was matted with sweat, his face streaked with dirt and tears. His hands trembled against the weight of the sword, his arms straining to keep it steady.

But his face—Gods, his face.

Telemachus felt his knees weaken. It was his own face staring back at him. Younger, softer, but unmistakable. His son. “Adonis,” Telemachus breathed, barely able to hear himself over the pounding of his own heart.

But the boy didn’t lower his sword. He only glared at him with the fire of a child who had just lost his world. A child who had no idea that the man he was threatening to kill was the father he had never known. Adonis’ grip on the sword tightened, his entire body trembling as he took a step closer, glaring up at Telemachus with pure, unfiltered rage.

“You’re lying!” he shouted, his voice hoarse and raw. “You’re not my father! My father is dead! You killed him!” His small chest heaved with every word, fury and grief tangled together in his eyes. “Let go of my mother and sister! You don’t belong here!”

Telemachus took a careful step forward, hands raised in an attempt to calm him. “Adonis, listen to me—”

“Shut up!” Adonis screamed, lifting the sword again despite the way it wobbled in his grip. “You’re a liar! My father loved us! My father protected us! You’re just some—some monster!” Telemachus’ heart twisted painfully, but before he could say anything, there was a sharp thwack.

Adonis’ body jerked forward slightly, his furious expression slipping into something dazed and confused. His lips parted as if to say something else, but his knees buckled beneath him, and he collapsed face first onto the bloodied stone. She gasped loudly, her arms instinctively tightening around Phebie as she took a stumbling step forward. “No!”

Telemachus turned sharply, rage flooding his body. Behind Adonis, standing with a smug, satisfied smirk, was Eurymachus. The handle of his sword—used to strike the boy—rested lazily in his hand as he nudged Adonis’ unconscious body with his foot. “There. Problem solved,” Eurymachus drawled, as if he had just handled a particularly annoying pest rather than an enraged, grieving child. “Gods, I thought he’d never shut up—”

Telemachus was on him in an instant. With a furious snarl, he grabbed Eurymachus by the collar and shoved him back against the nearest wall. The impact rattled the stone, Eurymachus’ cocky expression quickly twisting into one of shock as Telemachus pressed his forearm hard against his throat.

“What the fuck did you just do?” Telemachus growled, his voice shaking with rage.

Eurymachus let out a choked laugh, trying to shove Telemachus off. “Relax,” he coughed. “I just knocked the little brat out. It’s not like I killed him—”

Telemachus slammed him back harder. “Don’t call him that.” His breathing was ragged, his grip tightening as his mind raced. “You hit my son.”

“Oh, now he’s your son?” Eurymachus taunted, still smirking despite the pressure against his windpipe. “You sure he even wants to be?” That nearly made Telemachus snap—but before he could do something he’d regret, a weak voice cut through the tension.

“Stop it,” she whispered.

Telemachus turned his head slightly, still pinning Eurymachus against the wall. She had fallen to her knees beside Adonis, gently brushing the dark curls from his face. He was breathing, his chest rising and falling steadily, but he looked so small lying there, his little hands still twitching as if trying to fight even in unconsciousness.

“Please,” she said again, this time looking up at Telemachus with tired, glassy eyes. “Just… fighting for now.” Telemachus let out a sharp breath, then, with one last glare, released Eurymachus, who let out an exaggerated cough and rubbed his throat.

“Fine, fine, whatever,” Eurymachus muttered. “You’re so sensitive.” But Telemachus wasn’t listening anymore. His eyes were back on Adonis, on his wife, on the fractured family before him.

And for the first time since this war had begun… he had no idea what to do next.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress @f3r4lfr0gg3r @permanently-nothere @eyuunho @jackintheboxs-world @simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches @sugarlillycookie @kaguraaaa @doodle-with-rhy @0anodite0 @cocosparkel @tati-the-fangirl @dazedemery @tsmaruchan @xo-cuteplosion-xo @galaxygurlll @pjopinkk @h0ne4bee @minteaspoon @zendoesstuff @yuvany @i-liketoast

[leather-n-velvet]

Right Person, Wrong Time- Part Ten

A Rafe Cameron x Kook!reader SMAU

YN and Rafe were the power couple of Figure 8. Before college they had a very intense relationship. It came to a breaking point YN’s junior year of college. Rafe was heartbroken, but he knew he needed to spend some time reflecting on their time together. It took a lot of time, but he realized that their ending had been his fault. In order to fix that, he needed to change.

A few years later, YN returned to the island after college. Rafe realized just how much he truly loved YN, and he knew he needed to win her back. But he knew it wouldn’t be easy, and he questioned if he would truly be able to undo the past.

Series warnings: MINORS DNI, sexual themes, language, drinking, references to past drug abuse, past toxic relationship.

A/N: Surprise! Here's a lil something something for y'all since I've been gone. I'm not fully back yet but I did have a bout of inspiration for this chapter. Buckle up, babes, it's a bit of a heavy one.

Dividers by: @cafekitsune

Previous Chapter // Masterlist

Past [2 years ago]

2:58 AM

YN couldn’t contain the overwhelming sobs that wracked her body. Her limbs trembled, her eyes blurred with tears, and her heart drummed a frantic beat in her chest. Thoughts raced through her mind, all revolving around one desperate plea: He had to be okay—please let him be okay.

Claire, seated in the driver’s seat, cast a concerned glance at her best friend. She reached over and took YN’s trembling hand in her own, providing a small sense of comfort amidst the chaos. “YN, honey, I need you to focus on your breathing,” she urged gently, her voice a soothing balm against the storm of anxiety.

The worry for YN was palpable as Claire watched her struggle. These panic attacks had escalated over recent days, each one a culmination of YN’s mounting stress and anxiety over Rafe's reckless choices. It was as if these worries were slowly chipping away at her vibrant spirit, leaving behind an anxious, hollow shell that barely resembled the bright, sunny person she used to be.

Through choked breaths and muffled cries, YN struggled to regain control.

“C'mon, in and out. In and out,” Claire encouraged, her tone filled with urgency but also a warmth that reassured YN that she wasn’t alone.

Meanwhile, Lottie, who had been watching from the back seat, felt her own anxiety rise as she gnawed on her thumbnail and bounced her knee erratically. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she interjected, “Pull over for a second and let her get out.”

Without hesitation, Claire guided the car to the shoulder of the quiet road, the trees rustling gently in the breeze as the engine turned off. Lottie quickly exited the car and rushed to YN’s side, flinging open her door. “Come on, babe, let’s just walk for a moment,” she said, her voice firm yet filled with compassion.

YN shook her head vigorously, panic rising anew. “N-no, I h-have to get to him. H-he needs m-me!” Her words tumbled out in a frantic rush, desperation lacing every syllable.

“We need you to breathe first, sweetie. You’re having a panic attack,” Lottie declared, her tone reassuring but serious. She reached out to gently place YN’s shaky hand against her own chest, feeling the slower, steady rhythm of her heartbeat. “Come on, do it with me—breathe in, breathe out.”

YN stared at Lottie, recognizing in her friend’s eyes that she needed to regain control not only for herself but also to be there for Rafe. With a shaky resolve, she attempted to match Lottie’s breathing pattern, her hand mirroring the rising and falling motion against Lottie’s steady chest.

After what felt like an eternity of focused effort, YN finally managed to take a deep breath, the first real breath she’d taken since leaving the house thirty minutes ago. She concentrated on her hand, watching it rise and fall, letting the calmness of the movement ground her.

With a renewed sense of control, YN met Lottie’s watery blue gaze and nodded, murmuring softly, “Okay.”

Claire, ever the nurturing figure of their trio, held out a water bottle, her eyes filled with understanding. “Here, drink this,” she encouraged, her voice laced with tenderness.

Lottie continued to hold YN’s hand against her chest, rubbing soothing circles on the back of it, a physical reminder that she wasn’t alone in this moment. “That’s it, babe. You’re doing great,” she reassured her friend, her voice steady and calming.

After several deep gulps of water and a few more moments dedicated to breathing, YN felt another sob catch in her throat. “He’s not okay,” she finally confessed, tears spilling down her cheeks. She covered her face with her trembling hands, feeling utterly helpless. “I don’t know what to do.”

Claire grasped one of YN’s hands firmly, drawing her attention back to her warm brown eyes, filled with unwavering support. “I know what we can do,” she said, her voice imbued with conviction.

In that crucial moment, YN was enveloped in a protective hug between her two best friends—a lifeline she desperately needed to keep moving forward, to remain strong in the midst of her fears. The two girls were her anchors in a tumultuous sea of emotions, and she felt a profound wave of gratitude for this precious friendship as it wrapped around her, comforting and nurturing.

Claire continued to hold her tightly, infusing YN with a sense of security. “You’re going to be there for him. You’re going to love him like you always do, and we’ll be right here for you to lean on whenever you need us.”

“You’re not going to face this alone,” Lottie echoed, her voice steady beside Claire’s. “We’re right here, YN.” Their united presence filled YN with a sense of hope, reminding her that together they could navigate even the darkest days.

One week later...

Rafe lay on his bed, staring intently at the textured ceiling above him, lost in a spiral of tumultuous thoughts about her—about YN. It was the thousandth time he had replayed their last confrontation in his mind. The last week without her felt like an eternity, and the weight of his regret settled heavily on his chest. The moment she had walked out that door, he had known he had made a grave mistake. Their fights had never reached such a boiling point before; he used to pride himself on never allowing his frustrations to spill over onto her.

He recognized that the fault lay squarely with him but was at a loss for how to move forward. Rafe struggled to grasp the emotions swirling inside him, a churning sea of shame, guilt, and longing.

He tried to convince himself he didn’t have a problem. The party? It was just an unfortunate series of events—a bad batch of coke. He should have been more cautious, especially buying from someone unreliable. But desperation had driven him to it. With Barry busy and the incessant pressure from working alongside his father, coupled with YN’s absence at home, he felt cornered, trapped beneath the weight of expectations and responsibility. Was a little escape really so wrong? Surely everyone had their breaking point.

Yet, the image of YN remained etched in his mind—the sight of her red-rimmed, chapped eyes, the remnants of tears shimmering on her cheeks. That moment sent his heart into a frenzied downward spiral. All he wanted was to gather her into his arms, to shield her from all the hurt he had caused. The realization that he was the source of her pain twisted his gut in knots; he had always wanted her tears to be from joy, not sorrow.

Sighing heavily, he rubbed a hand across his stubbled face, knowing he could no longer bear the silence between them. He needed to see her, needed to feel the warmth of her presence, especially with the holidays looming over him like an ominous cloud.

“Some fucking holidays,” he muttered under his breath.

With newfound determination, he snatched his phone and keys, darting down the stairs, ignoring the glances from his father, who sat rigidly in his office. He had already navigated the confrontation with Ward—thankfully emerging victorious without being sent off to rehab. With that hurdle behind him, there was no point in lingering on the subject.

_______

Pulling into the expansive driveway of YN’s family estate, Rafe felt a blend of anxiety and nostalgia wash over him. The Westbrook family home sprawled majestically across four acres, a symbol of old money and lasting legacy, linked to the oil industry for nearly a century. Ward’s excitement had been palpable when he and YN had started dating; he recalled the way Rose’s eyes had sparkled, practically already planning the wedding and envisioning all the power that the potential union between the two families could bring.

But for Rafe, the wealth associated with her family meant little. YN was different from the girls who frequented Figure 8. She was down-to-earth, kind, and genuine, traits that were rare and precious. Her family was truly loving and had embraced him openly, but in this moment, he doubted whether that warmth would extend to him now, especially after everything that had happened.

He wiped his clammy palms on his shorts, trying to collect himself as he approached the grand entrance. He felt the pressure of confronting her once again, the weight of his arrival hanging heavy in the air.

“Rafe. What can I do for you?” YN’s mother, Mrs. Westbrook, appeared from around the edge of the yard, her tone a mixture of curiosity and caution.

“Um, I really need to talk to YN. Is she home?” Rafe asked, the nerves twisting in his stomach.

Mrs. Westbrook’s warm gaze assessed him, searching for signs of sobriety. He could feel the protective mama bear rising within her; her instincts were finely tuned, ever vigilant for her children.

In that moment, a wave of grief crashed over him—he missed his own mother deeply. What would she think of the path he was on now? The thought made him uncomfortable.

With a soft sigh, Mrs. Westbrook crossed her arms, displaying concern and authority. “Honey, I don’t know the entire situation, but I do know that I had to hold my daughter for hours while she cried. I’m not fond of that, Rafe. And if I know you, which I think I do after all these years, you’re not either.”

A flush of shame overtook him as her words sliced through his defenses. Mrs. Westbrook had a way of breaking him down, wielding her fierceness with love. If there was anyone he respectfully feared, it was her, and in that moment, her scrutinizing gaze felt both comforting and intimidating.

“I-I know I messed up. But I really need to talk to her,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“She’s upstairs,” she replied, offering a slight nod toward the balcony he had once climbed with youthful audacity to sneak into YN’s room during high school.

“Thank you,” he said, relief coursing through him.

“And Rafe? You know I love you like my own, but if you hurt her again, I’m not sure I’ll be able to forgive you,” she warned, her voice firm yet laced with warmth.

“Yes ma’am,” he responded, the gravity of her words settling deep within him.

With determination renewed, Rafe turned and hurried up the stairs, his heart pounding in his chest as he reached for the door to YN’s sanctuary.

“Angel?” he murmured, his voice hardly above a whisper as his eyes landed on the curled-up figure of his girlfriend, swathed in blankets like a wounded bird.

“Go away,” she replied, her voice muffled and strained.

“Baby, please. Just give me a chance to explain,” he pleaded, desperation clawing at him.

“What is there to explain, Rafe?” she sniffled, her tone edged with hurt.

He closed the door more gently than he had intended, cautiously making his way toward her. “I messed up,” he said, laying it all bare.

She let out a humorless chuckle. “That’s one hell of an explanation. Great job,” she retorted, bitterness lacing her words.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he urged, extending a hand toward her.

YN hesitated, a battle raging within her. She wanted desperately to turn and meet his gaze, to seek solace in his warm blue eyes, but she feared that it might shatter her. Still, a longing for his embrace clung to her heart.

When their eyes finally met, Rafe felt a fresh wave of pain course through him. The light that once brightened her face was extinguished, leaving behind a shadow of heartbreak. He had caused this; he was the reason for her sorrow, and the realization of that truth was a heavy burden he now bore.

“I messed up big time,” Rafe admitted, running a hand through his tousled hair, frustration etched across his face. “Dad had been on my case all week, grilling me about my future. I felt like there was this weight on my chest. I missed you so much—missed having you right down the road, someone I could turn to when everything felt too heavy. I can’t confide in Topper or Kelce anymore. They just don’t understand. It made me feel so isolated and lost. I just wanted to escape from it all for a moment.”

YN remained silent, her gaze fixed on him, her expression a mixture of concern and expectation, urging him to continue.

“Kelce was throwing one of his parties, and Barry was caught up with some other plans, so I ended up buying from some pogue. I should’ve known better; I should have been more cautious, but I just craved that release, that break from reality. It didn’t hit me how far gone I was until I woke up in my room the next morning.”

YN sat up, propping herself against her headboard, her fingers absently tracing the delicate locket Rafe had given her. “When you texted me that night, my heart dropped. I was so worried. And when Kelce called me, I just—I panicked, Rafe. I thought you overdosed. Do you even realize how dangerous this path is? It’s not just tearing you apart; it’s tearing us apart too.”

“I promise I’ll get clean. I swear it,” Rafe said, desperation weaving through his voice.

“You’d better, because I refuse to stand by and watch you self-destruct. I can’t do that. I’ve tried everything to make you see how serious this is, how much of a problem you have. I’ve run out of ideas on what more I can possibly do.”

Rafe reached out, taking her hand in his, his grip firm yet pleading. “Please, don’t give up on me, baby. I can’t lose you. You’re everything to me.”

“I need you to show me—not just through words, but with your actions. You need to want this for yourself, Rafe. I want to help you; I will do everything in my power to support you. But at some point, you have to make that choice yourself. I can’t force you to change.”

He drew her closer, burying his face in her hair, inhaling the sweet, familiar scent that always grounded him. It was a moment of solace in a world that felt chaotic and unforgiving. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with intensity.

“And I love you,” she replied, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, a mixture of hope and fear swirling within her.

A/N: Spoiler alert... this is the beginning of the end for past YN and Rafe.

The next couple of chapters will probably be set in the past. Buckle up, girlies, we're in for a rough ride.

Please let me know what you think! Don't forget to like and reblog. As always, my ask inbox is always open for any questions or thoughts or even theories you may have. I would LOVE to talk to y'all about this series!

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