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gothhabiba · 1 year ago

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🍉🇵🇸 eSims for Gaza masterpost 🇵🇸🍉

Which eSims are currently being called for?

Connecting Humanity is calling for:

Nomad (“regional Middle East” plan): code NOMADCNG

Simly (“Palestine” plan)

Gaza Online is calling for:

Holafly (“Israel” and “Egypt” plans): code HOLACNG

Nomad (“regional Middle East” plan): code NOMADCNG (can now be used multiple times from the same email)

Airalo (“Middle East and North Africa” plan)

Sparks (“Israel” plan)

Numero (“Egypt” plan)

For Connecting Humanity: if you sent an eSim more than two weeks ago and it is still valid and not yet activated, reply to the email in which you originally sent the eSim. To determine whether the eSim is still valid, scan the QR code with a smartphone; tap the yellow button that reads “Cellular plan”; when a screen comes up reading “Activate eSIM,” click the button that says “Continue.” If a message comes up reading “eSIM Cannot Be Added: This code is no longer valid. Contact your carrier for more information,” the eSim is activated, expired, or had an error in installation, and should not be sent. It is very important not to re-send invalid eSims, since people may walk several kilometers to access wifi to connect their eSims only to find out that they cannot be activated.

If a screen appears reading “Activate eSIM: An eSIM is ready to be activated” with a button asking you to “Continue,” do not click “Continue” to activate the eSim on your phone; exit out of the screen and reply to the email containing that QR code.

Be sure you're looking at the original post, as this will be continually updated. Any new instructions about replying to emails for specific types of unactivated plans will also appear here.

Check the notes of blackpearlblasts's eSim post, as well as fairuzfan's 'esim' tag, for referral and discount codes.

How do I purchase an eSim?

If you cannot download an app or manage an eSim yourself, send funds to Crips for eSims for Gaza (Visa; Mastercard; Paypal; AmEx; Canadian e-transfer), or to me (venmo @gothhabiba; paypal.me/Najia; cash app $NajiaK, with note “esims” or similar; check the notes of this post for updates on what I've purchased.)

You can purchase an eSim yourself using a mobile phone app, or on a desktop computer (with the exception of Simly, which does not have a desktop site). See this screenreader-accessible guide to purchasing an eSim through each of the five services that the Connecting Humanity team is calling for (Simly, Nomad, Mogo, Holafly, and Airalo).

Send a screenshot of the plan's QR code to [email protected]. Be sure to include the app used, the word "esim," the type of plan (when an app has more than one, aka "regional Middle East" versus "Palestine"), and the amount of data or time on the plan, in the subject line or body of your email.

Message me if you have any questions or if you need help purchasing an eSim through one of these apps.

If you’re going to be purchasing many eSims at once, see Jane Shi’s list of tips.

Which app should I use?

Try to buy an eSim from one of the apps that the team is currently calling for (see above).

If the team is calling for multiple apps:

Nomad is best in terms of data price, app navigability, and ability to top up when they are near expiry; but eSims must be stayed on top of, as you cannot top them up once the data has completely run out. Go into the app settings and make sure your "data usage" notifcations are turned on.

Simly Middle East plans cannot be topped up; Simly Palestine ones can. Unlike with Nomad, data can be topped up once it has completely run out.

Holafly has the most expensive data, and top-ups don't seem to work.

Mogo has the worst user interface in my opinion. It is difficult or impossible to see plan activation and usage.

How much data should I purchase?

Mirna el-Helbawi has been told that large families may all rely on the same plan for data (by setting up a hotspot). Some recipients of eSim plans may also be using them to upload video.

For those reasons I would recommend getting the largest plan you can afford for plans which cannot be topped up: namely, Simly "Middle East" plans, and Holafly plans (they say you can top them up, but I haven't heard of anyone who has gotten it to work yet).

For all other plans, get a relatively small amount of data (1-3 GB, a 3-day plan, etc.), and top up the plan with more data once it is activated. Go into the app’s settings and make sure low-data notifications are on, because a 1-GB eSIM can expire very quickly.

Is there anything else I need to do?

Check back regularly to see if the plan has been activated. Once it's been activated, check once a day to see if data is still being used, and how close the eSim is to running out of data or to expiring; make sure your notifications are on.

If the eSim hasn't been activated after three weeks or so, reply to the original email that you sent to Gaza eSims containing the QR code for that plan.

If you purchased the eSim through an app which has a policy of starting the countdown to auto-expiry a certain amount of time after the purchase of the eSim, rather than only upon activation (Nomad does this), then also reply to your original e-mail once you're within a few days of this date. If you're within 12 hours of that date, contact customer service and ask for a credit (not a refund) and use it to purchase and send another eSim.

How can I tell if my plan has been activated? How do I top up a plan?

The Connecting Humanity team recommends keeping your eSims topped up once they have been activated.

See this guide on how to tell if your plan has been activated, how to top up plans, and (for Nomad) how to tell when the auto-expiry will start. Keep topping up the eSim for as long as the data usage keeps ticking up. This keeps a person or family connected for longer, without the Connecting Humanity team having to go through another process of installing a new eSim.

If the data usage hasn't changed in a week or so, allow the plan to expire and purchase another one.

What if I can't afford a larger plan, or don't have time or money to keep topping up an eSim?

I have set up a pool of funds out of which to buy and top up eSims, which you can contribute to by sending funds to my venmo (@gothhabiba), PayPal (paypal.me/Najia), or cash app ($NajiaK) (with note “esims” or similar). Check the notes of this post for updates on what I've purchased, which plans are active, and how much data they've used.

Crips for eSims for Gaza also has a donation pool to purchase eSims and top them up.

Gaza Online (run by alumni of Gaza Sky Geeks) accepts monetary donations to purchase eSims as needed.

What if my eSim has not been activated, even after I replied to my email?

Make sure that the QR code you sent was a clear screenshot, and not a photo of a screen; and that you didn’t install the eSim on your own phone by scanning the QR code or clicking “install automatically."

Possible reasons for an eSim not having been activated include: it was given to a journalist as a back-up in case the plan they had activated expired or ran out of data; there was an error during installation or activation and the eSim could no longer be used; the eSim was installed, but not activated, and then Israeli bombings destroyed the phone, or forced someone to leave it behind.

An eSim that was sent but couldn’t be used is still part of an important effort and learning curve. Errors in installation, for example, are happening less often than they were in the beginning of the project.

Why should I purchase an eSim? Is there any proof that they work?

Israel is imposing near-constant communications blackouts on Gaza. The majority of the news that you are seeing come from Gaza is coming from people who are connected via eSim.

eSims also connect people to news. People are able to videochat with their family for the first time in months, to learn that their family members are still alive, to see their newborn children for the first time, and more, thanks to eSims.

Some of this sharing of news saves lives, as people have been able to flee or avoid areas under bombardment, or learn that they are on evacuation lists.

Why are different plans called for at different times?

Different eSims work in different areas of the Gaza Strip (and Egypt, where many refugees currently are). The team tries to keep a stockpile of each type of sim on hand.

Is there anything else I can do to help?

There is an urgent need for more eSims. Print out these posters and place them on bulletin boards, in local businesses, on telephone poles, or wherever people are likely to see them. Print out these foldable brochures to inform people about the initiative and distribute them at protests, cafes and restaurants, &c. Also feel free to make your own brochures using the wording from this post.

The Connecting Humanity team is very busy connecting people to eSims and don't often have time to answer questions. Check a few of Mirna El Helbawi's most recent tweets and see if anyone has commented with any questions that you can answer with the information in this post.

#esims #esims for gaza #palestine #gaza #action

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marknee · 3 months ago

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bts fanfics i think shakespeare would enlist himself into the military just to show the boys.

chapter iv. ✷ chapter vi.

KEYS ON SEVERITY OF SHAKESPEARE’S STATE:

( ✮ ) — he’s not really thinking about enlisting, is he?

( ♬ ) — what do you mean shakespeare shaved his head?.. oh no.

( ✎ ) — don’t military bases have security? how the hell did that man get inside?

( ♛ ) — he’s proper pulling a cross country right now. the boys look confused. and horrified.

THE SHAKESPEARE SERIES.

WARNING: keep in mind, some of these authors are very strict on the rule that no minors should read their work if they’re underage, and i will honour that. but, at the end of the day, i am not your parent. so, there’s that. but heed my warning wisely. any smut or 18+ content is highlighted in bold.

NOTE: dear readers, did you miss me? it’s been a while since i’ve shared my secret recommendations with you. but, since the two year anniversary of this special series has recently passed, i thought it was about time i spoiled you again. i’ve had quite a while to think about this one. so, i hope you’re ready. let’s give shakespeare something to enlist for.

( ♛ ) AMALTHEA — by @daechwitatamic

!! seokjin x reader | 40k !!

best friend’s older brother!au, smut (18+), fluff, angst.

bfb! bfb! my best friend’s brother, my friend’s brother! bfb! bfb! my best friend’s brother, my best friend’s brother!

this is one of the BEST seokjin fics i’ve ever read. straight to the point but there is no other way to put it. got to the point i would wake up earlier just to read another chapter before work. i was always present, bitch.

alike most of you, as someone who reads A LOT (re: i have no credentials for this, just my mum), i can tell when someone pours their every blood, sweat and tears (ha.) into writing. and for me, this is one of those writers.

this writer really shocked me at how much i connected to this story whilst reading n how attached i felt after finishing. caught me off guard, but so did death to shakespeare… sooo, what can i say.

“it’s been over a decade since that night, and you still don't know if he meant his family, or you.” dude i wish you could’ve seen my face. lmfao.

let’s just say there’s a reason this one’s first. amazed. truly.

( ♛ ) MOON MAGIC — by @jincherie

!! hoseok x reader | 33.8k !!

mermaid!au, pirate!au, fluff (like.. teeth rotting).

“and he calls me mooonlight toooooo,” she sings into the empty crowd with tears in her eyes. she meaning me.

now i know i’m known for having a sweet tooth, but damn! youse are gonna eventually turn me into an elizabethan england commoner. y’know, the crap dental hygiene n all. (re: shakespeare’s teeth.)

but, you know me. i looooove a good ‘ol fantasy inspired fic, so i guess i’m willing to risk a little here. and this one was worth risking for.

slams hand onto the table. the world building! this writer was not playing around when it came to painting us a picture of the world they wanted to create. i wanna live in this fic i’m not joking. get me in touch with namjoon asap for some of that moon magic shit. ok, rolls credits.

perfect in every single way. this is my first run-in with this writer, but am i swimming (sorry.) my way over to their masterlist? yeeees.

“he laughs and tells you that, actually, it's probably the youngest three princes that are most beloved by all.”

yea girl. not on my watch. enjoy!

( ✎ ) ALL GROWN UP — by @btsgotjams27

!! jungkook x reader | 64k !!

friends to lovers, older woman/younger man, smut (18+).

the fact this fic was loosely inspired by one of my all-time comfort kdramas… i didn’t even have to question adding it to my list. it felt like i was watching it for the first time again… deeply sighs. ahhh the nostalgia…

i had this fic bookmarked on my ao3 for the looongest time, but it was only recently that i got round to actually reading it. and i’m so glad i did. bless her, she was waiting for her moment to shine. and it’s now.

youngest kids in the family please raise your hands! all in attendance! you are welcome and appreciated here. the feeling of desperation, trying to get people to see you as your current age rather than the little kid they’ll forever remember. i think that’s why i loved this fic so much: i could relate to it.

alike this story, most fics on here are on the older side of things. but honestly, if it’s good and genuine, it’ll last forever. no matter how much time has gone by. feelings stay - perhaps even grow?

the same for our adorable pair over here. could time play in their favour?

you let me know when you finish it.

( ✮ ) ALIVE AHA FXCK — by @softyoongiionly

!! vampire!yoongi x human!reader | 42k !!

vampire!au, smut (18+), soulmate!au (you know i had to), please read the trigger warnings.

devoured. no pun intended. though other vampire synonyms include but are not limited to: consumed, ate, guzzled, feasted etc… thank you google, after a few questionable internet searches.

i cannot tell you how glad i am that shakespeare never wrote about vampires. cuz he would’ve written my ass into that damn thing and killed me off from the things i’ve said about that guy. and the things i will continue to say…

i love this fic on a personal level. it reminds me of being fourteen again, curled up in my sheets as the sun reaches the tip of my windowsill and the morning chill settles in after a night of fighting sleep to finish a fanfic. it’s safe - i’m safe.

i genuinely had so much fun reading this story. the characterisation of both the reader and yoongi is so unhinged and playful and i’m obsessed. if i could recommend it to anyone, it would be my younger self cuz i know she’d love it :,). n she did!

y’know, sometimes you just gotta read a silly - infused with twilight puns - vampire-themed yoongi fic for the world to feel alright again.

and it did - for me. n now - for you.

( ♛ ) OLDER — by @lovieku

!! dilf!jk x inexperienced!reader | 18.2k !!

smut (18+), dilf!au, best friend’s father, age gap.

pure, undeniable and utter filth. in the best fuckin’ way possible. yea, if you could crawl into my mind, plunge into the inky depths of whatever lurks there.. this is what you’d find lying on the sand floor. unadulterated sin.

i am so disgustingly obsessed with this fic i can’t explain it, hence why it’s ended up on my shelf of recommendations. it scratches and pleases a deep, desperate itch in my brain. maybe it’s the age gap, who knows?

this writer has a talent for making us - or, me. - claw at something forbidden in an almost hungry advance. the sinner doing the sinning. and goddamn, i’m impressed. n i bet shakespeare is too. well, he fuckin’ better be.

the characters are imperfect and selfish and lustful, but oh my god i love them. add on dilf!jk with his slutty, unbuttoned shirts and you have me sold.

@lovieku you are such an amazing writer. you have such a way with how you express. do not underestimate that. i am beyond excited to see your future works :)

masterpiece. but what the fuck was that ending.

( ♛ ) HABITS OF A CLANDESTINE NATURE — by @alphabetboyluvr

!! college!jk x female!oc | 16k !!

rich!jk, waitress!oc, enemies to lovers, smut (18+).

he got, he got away! he got away! he got away! he’s got a way, he’s got a way! awayyyyheyeyyyyheyyy! yea, but didn’t manage to escape a 460-year-old poet, nor me.. so..

clementines, fruit trees, the sound of innocent laughter, wind chimes, a sheer blur of colour, soft hands. things that come to mind whenever i am reminded of this fic. a solid and beautiful depiction of hurt and love and everything in between.

this writer knew straight off the bat how to sell this pair to the audience. how to capture us and string us along for the journey of two hurting, longing and hurting all over again. shakespeare bought the hanging fruit that’s for damn sure… me too then, perhaps.

the vision for this story is perfect to me. i almost want to give the writer a kiss on the forehead.

i did write down one quote; used from the story. a way to sum it all up. “the perfect place to get lost. the perfect place to get found, too.”

if you’re looking for somewhere to get lost, i hope this satisfies that need. i also hope i come back to read this every once in a while. for old times sake. to get found again.

( ♬ ) GUILTY AS SIN — by @gldrushh

!! brother in law!jungkook x widow!reader | 32k !!

forbidden love!au, smut (18+), angst.

“it began to lose its meaning. healing. as if it were something—a destination you could stumble upon.” oh, don’t even talk to me. people died. shakepeare died. april 23rd 1616.

god, this story is just so raw in and of itself - perfectly depicting the human experience of love and loss. inevitable and sometimes unexpected. i was - n still remain - in awe.

i crossed by this fic unexpectedly and i’m so glad that whatever butterfly effect led me to finding this succeeded, but damn that action also had consequences… like real bad… haha….

i want to cry every time this fic crosses my mind. dramatic? lil bit. but when you read it, holy shit - this will make sense to you young’uns. in due time.

well, to be even more dramatic as such… my wounds from reading this are still fresh (i will sob don’t test me), so i hand the torch over to you to make of this story what you will.

please go into this fic with no expectations. go in willingly and just… fall into it. i will be on the other side when you resurface and i will definitely say something ironic.

like i told you so. xx.

( ♛ ) CALLING PRODUCER MIN YOONGI — by @bangtan-dreamland

!! yoongi x reader | 4.6k !!

strangers to lovers, just fluff all around.

now this is the bitch i aspire to be. dials random ass numbers of random ass strangers just to yap. oh yea, that’s my kinda girl. i just hope she knows she’s the coolest person ever to exist to me. i want to buy a star for her. a big, bright one.

i think i have said this before, but never ever underestimate the power of a drabble. a short fic of little can hold the weight of ten times that amount. especially this one (which i read that long ago but has ultimately ended up here - says it all tbh).

this fic is everything and more to me. i miss it when i’m not reading it, and i miss it when it’s right in front of me. it has me wanting to ring up random people in hopes of meeting my true love - which i won’t, but who knows what might happen?

also, to point out - the immense chemistry between these characters is off the charts. felt like i was intruding on my own phone call.

good dialogue? tick. amazing characterisation? tick. interesting plot? tick. has shakespeare wanting to never learn how to use a phone in case he puts this fic to shame? tick.

lol.

( ✎ ) THE LOVE PROGNOSIS — by @awrkive

!! surgeon!jk x surgeon!reader | 90.9k !!

roommates!au, medical!au, smut (18+), fluff.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarggggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh. aaaand scene!

can i be honest? y’all stress me the fuck out! and you know who you are! starts with ‘j’ ends with ‘k’. the other one being ‘s’ ends with ‘e’. but one of you i like more and it’s not you, shakespeare.

the time it took me to finish this insanely crafted three-parter was embarrassingly short. (i think i formed a dent in my bed). so when i finished i was - obviously - heartbroken, so i did what every sane person does. i read all the drabbles. aaaand the tlp social media extras. and listened to the playlist. and cried. duh.

whilst all the fics on here deserve their own kdrama, i feel this one would ruin me completely. it’s weightlifting fairy kim bok joo all over again. it’s potential is there. like, c’mon screenwriters. i know you want to. or just pay me to do it.

the characters, the yearning, the friendship - immediately gets flashbacks… - ten’s across the board!

@awrkive is one to look out for. for real. i - along with everyone else here - will be tuning in. full volume.

oh yea, whilst we’re all still here. fuck that other guy. you know who you are! (no spoilers here).

( ♛ ) LET’S GET QUIZZICAL — by @taleasnewastime

!! jimin x f!reader | 28.6k !!

friends to lovers, angst, smut (18+).

sooooo… what i’m hearing is.. we all weren’t aware flo rida’s stage name is just florida with a space..? right? right.? cuz when you say it like that..

having been a victim of multiple pub quizzes in my past (haven’t won - yet!) the dialogue in this story was fucking perfect and scary real, depicting the anxiety, thrill and pure adrenaline running through your body as you rack your brain of every dumb fact you’ve ever read and hope it’s made a home somewhere up there.

not to mention you gotta trust your teammates like your life depends on it - cuz it fuckin’ does. n park jimin being one of them? the rest of the teams… y’all better not even bother showing up atp.

i thought the manor of the story being told through its settings was.. a slice of genius. so so cool and helped set the tone too. every time we transported back to the quiz i clutched my pearls in sheer relief.

also, i wish i could’ve highlighted angst in bold cause damn! you really hit us round the head with that one. and ofc i loved it, but damn. take notes, shakespeare. we don’t have to be killing characters off to ruin mk’s life. hm?

nothing less than spectacular from our @taleasnewastime.

( ♬ ) TRICKS OF THE TRADE — by @stutterfly

!! yoongi x reader | 24.1k !!

body swap!au, soulmates!au (you know me), smut (18+), humour.

peers down through speckled glasses, what’s next..? …oh god. sighs heavily and licks pen.

so i knew from the moment i read ‘body swap’ within the tags that this concept was gonna be so fuckin’ weird but so damn good. and low n behold, it didn’t disappoint. luckily i am a lover of fuckin’ weird.

this concept is so difficult to write. the foreign sensation of a different body and trying to channel each thought n emotions involved is complicated to convey, but this author did it so incredibly well.

also, not to be that person… but that smut… i’m gon’ be sleeping soooo well tonight let’s just say that lmfao. 100/10. might go back n read it when i’m done with this.

blushing… X

shakespeare couldn’t even fathom a story such as this - and we’re talking about the guy who once wrote about an incestuous relationship between a king and his daughter.

crazy work. you are so cool @stutterfly.

( ✎ ) TRIVIA LOVE — by @luxekook

!! namjoon x reader | 5.4k !!

non idol!au, smut (18+).

to quote myself from my reblog on feb 26 2020, “why was i smiling the whole way throughout this??” n you know what? hell yea i still stand by that!

this is the second pub quiz fic i have within this chapter (surprisingly, but not disappointing), but the circumstances cannot be more different.

the first group i would join, perhaps even rally with a little. but if i’m ever attending a pub night and these mother fuckers are in tow, best believe i’m leaving. they’re not ones to fuck with yo. they have $20 to win. they mean war.

since we’re at the end, and i’m 100% convinced nobody is still reading these, soooo… i can speak my truth. someone get me on joon’s lap. you gon’ be calling me cinderella cuz it’s gonna fit perfectly by midnight bro. on the dot.

this is - n will always be - a classic to me. one that i will always return to eventually. i can dress up all i want with these big fics, but these smaller ones are always a guilty pleasure.

like cinderella returning to her mice friends (or whatever), i will always come back to @luxekook and their stories.

forever xoxo.

MARKNEE’S SPECIAL MENTIONS:

caught my attention, and deserve their flowers.

( ♬ ) THE DEVIL SKATES ON THIN ICE — by @vankoya

!! yoongi x reader | 60.5k !!

winter sports!au, fluff, angst, humour.

my love life also skates on thin ice. lmfao. especially after this.

( ✎ ) KNOCKED — by @sailoryooons

!! streamer!seokjin x f!reader | 10.6k !!

roommates to lovers, smut (18+), humour.

more like she’s about to knock him out.

( ♬ ) NEFARIOUS — by @yoonia

!! jimin x f!reader | 39.2k !!

sex club!au, gentlemen club!au, smut (18+).

lets out a long sigh. won’t be in a rush to forget this one.

( ✎ ) THINGS WE DON’T SAY — by @wintaerbaer

!! taehyung x reader | 54.5k !!

best friends to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut.

the found family trope is strooong.

2K notes · View notes

la-patrona-magdalena · 5 months ago

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Reading list/Fanfic Masterlist Yandere!Batfamily X Reader

NONE OF THESE FANFICS BELONG TO ME, this is more of a personal reading list of fanfics I follow and such, all the links lead you to the creators' direct blogs.

Almost all the fanfics in the 'platonic' section are with Neglected!Reader, I'm addicted to that trope.

More than one link will lead you to the authors' master list instead of a masterlist for the series. This is because they don't have a dedicated list for the series, and it was easier for me to keep them this way. (There are also links to the first chapter, in this case, the author probably left the other chapters there, in addition to imagines, headcanons, and drabbles on their own.) I thought about adding a short description below the links to explain what the fanfic is about… maybe I'll do it later or just leave it as it is.

Not - series

Again and. Again - series

Bruce hears Reader call someone else "dad." - drabble

Reader who only recognizes Alfred - drabble

[UN] Fair - series

Adorned in pearls (although Bruce here is not platonic…) - one shot

Batfamily with a Shallow Reader - imagine

Reader in Squid Games - imagine

Crack Baby - series

Smalltown Meta!Reader - series

Forget me not - series

No more Chances - series

Inmorta! Reader - series

Undoing Fate - series (it's not yandere but it has my favorite cliche so…)

Tip toes - series

Meet The Waynes - series

Bring back the dead - series

Obsessive reader in the shadows - imagine

There are two fanfictions here, the first fic doesn't have a name and I don't know what to name it. - series

Who said money can´t buy hapinness (considering the # I assume that the batfam is platonic….but I'm not sure) - series

Between life and death, death is tempting - series

Ain´t no sushine - series

Beyond the Bat - series

Crow choir - series

Waterbone - drabble

Marine!Reader - one shot? drabble?

Saboteur - series/imagine

Unwanted embrace - series

I'm almost sure this was one of the pioneering stories in this trope. - one shot

Little Demon - one shot

Goodbye World - one shot

Batsis wakes up in a fanfic - imagine? drabble?

Batfam playing with Reader - I think it's a drabble…I don't know

Pity Party - series

Yandere Al Ghuls! - series

How would they spend time with you after the kidnapping? -drabble

You´re a fucking weird hacker - one shot

Lucid Dreams - series

Ghost of the Past - series

Soulamate Soul Animal - series

Good Look(includes more DC yanderes characters) - series

Web Bound (It is NOT yandere, but it does have obsessive characters) - Series

Bug like Angel - series

The other family - one shot

Batman! Damian Wayne x Robin! Reader - one shot?

Children!Reader who loves Tim more than Dick - headcanon

Yandere!Batfam Headcanons - headcanon xd

Advantages and disadvantages of Neglected! Reader - Headcanon(?)

When your family only cherish you after your death - series

Yandere Batfam x Neglected!Elle Woods!Reader - series

My pathetic family - series(?)

The ballad of a bygone blight - series

Batmon and his baby -drabble/ Scenery (bruce is romantic)

Reader happy to be ignored - drabble/Scenery

What We Want - series

The sinfull Allure (the story is not yandere, but it has the batboys, and I love this reverse harem) - series

Seven Days a Week - Hit me Hard and sort - two series

First married to Bruce - one shot

As Yanderes´ Universe - one shot series?

Polyamory with Aged Up! Damian Wayne and John Kent - imagine

Sisters!Reader x Batboys - Headcanon? (according to the hashtags)

Greetings - drabble?

How Dick and Damian would handle learnig reader is dating somebody? - Drabble?

Addictive - Series

Do You Think We´ll Be In Love Forever? (includes more DC characters) - various drabbles

Perfect Life - one shot

Batboys and reader who knows - headcanon set?

Checkmate - one shot

Tim Drake x nursing student!Reader - one shot

Remedial Lesson (18+) - One shot

Dommy Mommy!Reader - headcanon

Reader hosted by Tim Drake - one shot

Yandere self-aware Dick Grayson - headcanon set

Moon Prism Power! - imagine

What types of yanderes would the Batboys be? - headcanon

Yandere!Batboys x Reader HC - Headcanon

Dick Grayson is your coworker - Drabble (?)

Muse: The Painting - one shot

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senascoop · 6 months ago

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SENA’S FAVOURITES ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 TAG GAME

Ꮺ by @iovestuck and I might've added-edited some questions to my liking. all of these answers are genuine and not with the bias of some of them being my moots. also, extremely sorry if I didn't add you on here. most of them are nsfw so... minors please do not interact. (💌)

001. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVOURITE FANFICS?

HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER — @i2sunric

i already yapped a lot when I first read her fic but this was personally really really cute to read and I loved heeseung’s and the reader’s bickering a lot.

THE PERFECT COPY — @florestalio

if this fanfic was a person I'd date them lol. this was something new and easily secured a seat in my favs.

STILL INTO YOU — @i2sunric

another one of casey’s work that I love a lot.

COULD I BE MORE OBVIOUS? — @rkvriki

this was written like a year ago and is still really good. especially the way it actually captured the “rich ceo husband” vibes.

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM — @heechwe

what were you thinking when you wrote that lexi? i couldn't find a single bad thing about the fic when i first read it and ngl it still remains as one of my fav.

FIXED COMFORT — @paarksunghoon

coming back to read this after a bad day and this never fails to bring a smile on my face even if I've already re-read this a lot of times.

002. FANFICS YOU'VE READ RECENTLY?

haven't read much lately but this has to be my list — heehoon jerking off together while thinking of the reader. part one, part two not sure if there's more parts, sharing = caring , and then this mind-blowing fic by casey, heavenly , i personally found this one cute, and then I've read this smtg about toxic situationship heeseung, then this one from mochiwonz which made me laugh, this from yuvany, reader is mean in this one but it's good, little lamb ... I have more but I can't exactly add all of them here—so if you're looking for fic recs, you should check @senascoooop

003. WHAT FANFICS DO YOU THINK SHOULD GET MORE RECOGNITION?

PUPPY ANTICS — @florestalio

I always re-read this because well... no reason-just the descriptions and the scene (though I hate angel for cutting it short...)

YOU’RE LOSING ME — @i2sunric

y'all are missing out on a lot of good stuff if you haven't read this angsty angst fic.

CORPSE BRIDE — @yuvany

start to end-just perfection.

BEWITCHED — @p4ranormaluv

to describe this fic in one word would be #wtfdidijustread? In a good way ofc. this deserves way more notes than it has right now.

TIL DEATH DO US PART — sena

TIED UP IN YOU — sena

self promo lol but I actually like these two of my works and they might as well be my best ones till now.

HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS — @flwrstqr

a really fun fic to read, especially with the way both the reader and heeseung’s goal was definitely not to fall in love... but the two anyways did so.

VENOM — @gyuuberryy

the tension in this one and half way transformation of jay was just wowwww.

HORROR — @starryjake

the smut was rather really... cute alongside the ending...

666 — @simpjaes

a big fan of dark fics. and this was absolutely flawless!!

Not really a fanfic but rather sfw niki audio by @vanesycho part one, part two, part three, part four. I usually listen to these when I'm feeling down or can't fall asleep.

004. FAVOURITE AUTHORS?

all of my moots ofc lol but other than that ,

@i2sunric — all of her fics are hits and i personally really really really love them.

@florestalio — first found out about her through the fic “human or not” and I liked it from the go. and nevertheless-even if it's been a little time, I think we match the freak nonetheless.

@yuvany — she was in my favs the second i read corpse bride. then there's miss ugly duckling and her recent jay fic... absolutely amazing.

@p4ranormaluv — do I even need to have a reason for her to be here? she's really talented with the way she writes. Though I hope she's enjoying her break <3

@heechwe — every time you think someone can't get more sweet... lexi replies. even her fics are chefs kiss.

@gyuuberryy — she's my hype girl (ofc I'll add her on here and also bcz her fics are a big mwahh)

@mochiwonz — we aren't moots or anything but her works (smaus) randomly came in my for you page and i actually enjoyed a lot of them (so I'm adding her here too)

@paarksunghoon — every time a hard thought of hers comes into my for you-i know my evening's not gonna be so boring. y’all should read her fixed comfort and you plus me fic. 100% recommended.

@starryjake — another author who's also really good at making hard thoughts and fics :)

005. WHICH AUTHOR/READER DO YOU ADMIRE/ADORE THE MOST AND WHY?

all of my readers and moots ^^

but aside from them, i admire casey (i2sunric) & jazmine (p4ranormaluv) a lot and sort of started to write after reading their works <3

now I adore a lot of authors and readers but angel (florestalio) and ady (gyuuberry) have a special place in my heart. and I've actually gotten used to seeing some frequent readers which I absolutely notice and adore but the loud ones so far would be @zyvlxqht @flowerwinds (thank you so much for showing nothing other than love to me and my works) 🫶🏻💗

NOTE FROM SENA , i don't really read a lot which might explain why I don't have some more popular fics or authors in the recs. I'm also very sorry if I've forgotten someone (totally not intentional) this was really fun to make...thank you rain (iovestuck) you're another sweetie I found on blr :)

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 tagging anyone who wants to join

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chrissv4mp · 19 days ago

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MISS ME? ᝰ.ᐟ

warnings. smut, angst, fluff, fingering, g!p (girl penis), p in v, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, car sex, switch!billie × switch!reader, added characters, porn with some sort of plot, language.

synopsis. billie eilish. everybody knows her: the girl who always left both men and women in the dust during her races. you've been the starter to each one of them, and recently, you've noticed she hasn't been showing up. it's been two years, and when a big new name comes into town, billie's quick to pull up to reclaim her special title. and her girl.

au. g!p street racer!billie × starter!reader

words. 6.7k

letters. let's excuse my horrific description of street racing—and just cars in general.... also, i'm re-reading this and just now realizing i only made one reference to 'just keep watching...' the song i was originally taking inspiration from—alongside '2 hands' and 'sports car'..... anyway, enjoyyy!!! i had so much fun writing this 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

there's a stretch of road just outside of the city no one uses anymore—too bumpy for traffic, too dark for cameras, and too far out for any law official to care. potholes like craters. traffic lights flickering yellow every now and then. most maps don't even list the name of the street anymore.

but the second the clock ticks past 11pm, the place lights up like vegas. and everyone who matters knows where to go.

you're always there before the first wave of engines start to pull in, headphones slung around your neck, pistol on your waist, boots up on the concrete barrier like you own the damn place—because you basically do. since you were just sixteen. an older girlfriend of yours had brought you to one of the races, offered to let you shoot the starting pistol, and you fell in love with it instantly. the adrenaline. the rush. and now, five years later you're not even the slightest bit bored.

your clipboard's tucked under your arm, pen behind your ear, eyes focused on the roster of names and heats for the night.

behind you, the old lot's filling fast—old imports, mustangs, beat-up chevys with rebuilt engines and matte paint jobs that already have scratches. headlights making the dust particles visible, exhaust rolling low and thick through the air. cars park in crooked rows beside yours, grills gleaming under the floodlight hung on the power pole. some racers lean against their hoods with their arms crossed, scoping out the competition. others are all talk, loud and gassed up, trying to seem special before they even touch the start line.

you don't flinch when engines rev. don't move a muscle when someone pulls up too close. you've been the starter long enough to know who's real and who's noise.

and you? you're something in between. not a racer. not a spectator. but the one who calls the shots, drops the flag—the signal that turns waiting into war.

people watch you more than they should. and, yeah, you notice, you just don't care.

the boys flirt. some ask if you've got a favorite just to see if you'll flatter them. you never do.

you do have a favorite, though.

but you never say her name. not anymore. not after she kissed you without informing you it was her last race and just up and left without another word—without a proper goodbye, without a proper way of letting you know how she felt towards you.

though, you do still say things like: "no one ever drove that curve like she did," or "that start? it was okay. my girl used to redline smoother."

or the one that always riles them up—"mariah's fast, sure. but she wouldn't beat my girl. not if they went head to head."

and that's when they start arguing.

"you're crazy."

"who the fuck even is 'your girl'?"

"mariah would kill her."

you let them talk, let it go in one ear and out the other. you don't bother answering them when they ask who she is. don't mention that you still check the list every week in hopes of her being on it. you don't tell them she's the only racer on the track who ever had your heart stuttering when she looked at you from behind her tinted windshield and smiled like she already knew how the night was gonna end.

it's nearing midnight when a particularly loud engine rolls into the lot, and you look up quickly—a cherry red charger, engine purring low and smug. some whistle. some cheer. others hold up their phones like they're filming something that can only be seen once in a lifetime. mariah moore.

she kills the engine and steps out slow, calm. mariah's a whole show: gold hoops, leather jacket, acrylic nails brushing her tan cheek as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. she doesn't look at you, not at first. but you can feel the way the air shifts.

someone murmurs, "she's takin' it all."

you shake your head mindlessly. your mind drifts. like always.

because even with mariah here—the biggest name in street racing, fastest in the city—she doesn't make the street rumble like billie did, she doesn't even compare to the way billie had your palms sweating and your breath hitching.

you don't say it out loud. but she's already here.

lingering in the sound of a loud bass in someone's car. ghosting through the exhaust haze. trapped in the back of your throat each time someone asks, "who's your favorite?"

they all think mariah would crush her just because you keep her nameless. but you know better.

you know what it felt like when billie pulled up the line, slow and sure, making everybody forget who they really came to watch. you'd recognize the sound of her engine from a mile away, the melody of the song that was always playing when she rolled in.

you're leaning back in one of the old metal chairs under the check-in tent, clipboard in hand now, pen in the other, trying to make sense of the barely legible names scribbled in sharpie and faded pencil. the lot feels more alive than any other night before—laughter echoing off the crumbling brick of the nearby warehouse, engines revving in an effort to intimidate others, bass rocking a few cars subtly.

someone slides up next to you. aiden, one of the other starters. tall, kinda weird, always smells faintly of gasoline and peppermint gum.

"you got heat one lined up yet?" he asks, leaning in to scan the paper over your shoulder.

"workin' on it," you mutter, squinting at the mess of names, pen caught between your teeth. "who the hell wrote 'slim jim with the jaguar'? i swear, these guys are getting out of control."

aiden laughs, full and loud. "hey, that's jaxson. he's been coming out since last spring. you'll probably remember him once his muffler explodes again."

you shake your head with a soft laugh, but your attention stays sharp. you've done this a million times—balancing chaos, keeping things moving, occasionally breaking up a fight or two. you're not just the starter, you run this area of the streets.

"alright," you say, tapping the paper. "heat one is jaxson, reneé, and..."

before you can finish, a silhouette of black and red steps into your peripheral.

mariah.

black leather jacket, tight red crop top, sweatpants low on her hips like she owns the pavement. she walks like a girl who knows she's untouchable—chin up, hair falling over her shoulders effortlessly, eyes locked on you.

"got my name on there?" she asks, voice smooth.

you glance up, meet her gaze. unreadable, but steady. it doesn't faze you at all.

"heat three," you say, clicking your pen and tapping the paper again. "against miles and taylor."

she hums, eyes scanning the list and sighing like she's disappointed. "figured i'd get someone tougher. guess not."

"miles' been doing pretty well," aiden chimes in. "heard taylor's been doing overtime off the track to prepare."

mariah shrugs, uninterested. "i'll dust 'em anyway."

"real humble, moore," is what you want to say, but you keep it in your mind. you don't doubt her words, you just don't feel like she has the right to brag that much just yet.

so you just nod instead, standing up and setting the clipboard on the table beside the flags.

"check-in's by the cones," you say simply, nodding toward the start. "just tell 'em your name and they'll put you in the lineup."

mariah doesn't move right away. she lingers. eyes still on you, tilting her head just a bit to meet your gaze.

"...you seem quiet tonight," she says. "nothin' like before."

you raise an eyebrow, eyes flicking to hers, "and what was i like before?"

she grins. "flirty. sharp. mouthy as hell."

you scoff, turning toward the cars. "maybe your conversations just aren't as flirt-worthy as the other girls' are."

aiden laughs a little, then starts to walk away when mariah glares at him.

mariah laughs, low and real. "okay, starter girl. i'll catch you after i win, sound good?"

you don't respond, instead offering a single nod that doesn't really come off as one. but the second she walks away, that flicker starts again. and not from her. definitely not from her.

from the back of your mind.

the itch of a ghost. again. billie, who always made you stumble over your words like no other—nearly making you forget to shoot the gun when she sent a wink your way from inside her car.

you don't even realizing you're scanning the lot again until aiden comes up and nudges your side.

"expecting someone else tonight?"

you blink. "nah."

but the lie tastes bitter. because billie's name isn't on your list. and you're still looking for her anyway.

praying silently that you'll hear the low hum of a bass line later in the night, that you'll feel the familiar vibration of her engine beneath your feet, through your body.

you look over at the start line just as matthew waves you over. heat one is lined up a few feet behind the line, engines revving, the racers exchanging glances.

the crowd goes quiet as you walk over, starting pistol in one hand, the other resting casually on your hip.

you raise your arm, breathing in deeply, eyes locked on the cars—then you shoot the gun.

they're off before you can even process it, a silver camaro speeding past the line quicker than the others. everyone bursts into loud cheers for their separate bids, others only screaming just to scream.

it was always comforting hearing the cheers and laughter coming from the crowd—even if they weren't for you, it felt like you were still getting your flowers each time you shot the gun and everyone erupted into a loud choir of excitement and happiness. you thrived on it, but never would you dare get behind the wheel and actually drive in one of the races.

billie always terrified you with the way she drove—sometimes with only her knees, other times with one hand while she went 100 on the last curve before she really stepped on the gas and flew down the finish line in first place.

you recall the times she asked you to ride with her. "everything's always better with you. like... like a good luck charm," she'd said to you, fingers twirling a strand of your hair between her fingers before one of the biggest races of her life—and the last race you'd seen her at.

the sound of an engine quickly approaching broke you out of your trance. jaxson's purple jaguar skidding across the finish. reneé comes in second, her black audi following a few feet behind.

then the crowd erupts in mixed reactions, some angry and sad, others screaming and jumping around happily like they've just been rewarded with a million dollars in cash—which, in reality, no bid today was even a quarter of that amount.

the next heat passes by slower than the first, a few rookies taking the wheels of cars that they definitely spent their entire life savings on and didn't research at all.

it's all heat and noise around you—couples kissing over the hoods of cars and girls arguing about something that sounds like a cheating boyfriend? you can't really hear over the loud, obnoxious rev of mariah's charger at the start line, the hood just a few inches away from your legs where you stood between her and her opponent.

you felt the atmosphere change as soon as her name was called to the line. the crowd went quieter, murmurs filling the night instead of loud hollers and disapproving boo's for opposing racers. you couldn't blame them, she was the biggest name in street racing right now—but she was no billie eilish. nowhere near that territory. she didn't even compare to your girl. not now, not ever.

but still, you can feel her eyes on you before she even rolls down her window, smirk calm and cocky. "promise me a date if i win?" it makes your lips curl into a small, amused smile.

"what's the point?" you say, tilting your head to see her better. "i already know taylor's gonna beat you by a mile."

mariah laughs once, hollow. "yeah, funny joke."

you cock a brow. "never said i was joking, moore."

aiden snaps at you off to the side. you don't bother giving him a mere glance. instead, you just walk over to mariah's window and lean over, lips so close she feels your breath on her skin.

"fine," you whisper. "but if you pull some shit like you did last time, except to be blacklisted from any future race you're lookin' forward to."

her expression change is so subtle you're sure nobody would think she's fazed even in the slightest, but you see the way her brows furrow just that little bit, the way her lips twitch in that cocky grin that's wavering on nervous now.

"good luck," the tone of your voice is sweeter than before, eyes softening as you walk back to the middle and pull the gun from it's holster in your belt.

mariah rolls her window back up slowly, eyes locking onto the road in front of her as silence envelopes the crowd.

pop.

and they're off.

everyone lets the quiet continue for a second longer before going insane. grown men are screeching like little girls as they scream mariah's name, bouncing on their toes as they watch her clear the curve. smooth. calculated.

everything she does almost looks staged.

taylor trails behind her in a white bmw m3, drifting around the curve and momentarily grabbing first place. you can feel the tension from all the way across the track, your own heart pounding wildly in your chest—the deal with mariah sounds stupid now that you're watching her keep up with taylor.

"shit," you sigh, stepping back from the track quickly and running a hand through your hair, eyes never once leaving the cars.

aiden walks up just as you say it. you hate how he always has the worst timing. "finally see why mariah was named the best?"

you shake your head, and it slips from between your lips before you can stop it. "no, just finally realizing how stupid i was for promising her a date if she won."

he smirks. "same thing."

the final stretch of the race has you clutching onto your pistol, breath caught in your throat—it's mariah and taylor. miles isn't even in the question anymore, having spun out near the first curve.

it's a blur of white and red as they pass the finish line, engines roaring over the crowds applause and screams. not even you can tell who won—and it seems that neither can the girls as they come to a stop and jump out of their cars, their breaths still controlled as if they didn't have everyone on the edge of their seats.

matthew runs to watch the playback, and you swear you see his hands shaking as he brushes past you.

it's quiet as everyone watches him rewind the tape from the camera at the line.

one beat.

two.

then, "mariah moore. first place by a millisecond."

it's even louder than you expect it to be—people honking their horns while hanging out of them in the parking lot, groups of friends crowding each other and jumping up and down, someone even pulling out a megaphone and starting a chant of mariah's name. that makes you let out a quiet giggle.

but as you watch mariah jump back in her car and park it off to the side, nothing's funny anymore—because her next stop was definitely your house, picking you up late in the afternoon tomorrow for the date.

mariah hops out of her car again, strutting over with even more confidence and cockiness than before. her eyes are locked on you, smile growing, hair flowing perfectly in the cool night air.

she stops in front of you, already pulling her phone out of her back pocket. "think you owe me—"

the sound of an unexpected rev catches everyone's attention. including yours—in fact, you're the first one to turn your head in the direction of the noise.

your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.

that familiar vibration of a bass through blown-out speakers, the thick exhaust smoke trailing behind the car—the car.

billie's black dodge challenger.

mariah is the last thing on your mind now, your eyes locked on the windshield, hoping you'd see her sexy grin even through the dark tint that was definitely illegal. she doesn't even park in a space, just stops in front of the check-in tent and gets out, jordan's hitting the ground lightly, shorts hanging low on her hips despite the temperature, brown strands falling over her shoulders.

the crowd has the same reaction as they did before mariah's race, but the murmurs are louder—more curious.

"is that really her?"

"holy shit, i thought she was gone for real."

"time for mariah to retire."

"didn't she quit?"

billie doesn't spare them a glance. her focus is set on the check-in table, steps long and filled with confidence that even had mariah crumbling a little. you watch as she walks toward aiden, who stood behind the table with a clipboard in hand. he looks up, and you swear you see his jaw drop.

"i want a race," she says—no, demands. firm. unrelenting. "the best you've got. can you do that for me?"

aiden stutters, struggling to find his voice as he steps forward. though he was starstruck, he was also very strict on the rules. "i—i'm sorry, we've already got everyone in their assigned heats. there's no—"

"nah, i don't think you heard me," billie brushes him off, shaking her head with a smirk that you always saw when she was getting pissed off. "i want a race."

"yeah, and i said—"

"she's right here, eilish," you cut in, motioning toward mariah, and billie's head turns instantly. the smirk on her face grows into one of excitement, eyes glinting with something you can't quite name.

the brunette scoffs, his eyes widening. "y/n, you can't—"

you eye him. "she's billie fuckin' eilish. go read an article before denying her again."

billie laughs quietly, pushing off the table and walking over to you, stepping between you and mariah, who she doesn't pay any mind. her eyes flick to your lips, biting down on her own before finally looking you in the eyes.

"miss me?" she whispers.

you shrug. "did you win yet?"

her smirk grows. then she gives a shrug of her own and raises her brows. "we'll see."

mariah steps forward just as billie steps back, the two of them now side by side in front of you. their eyes gravitate toward each other, both of them giving the other an obvious once-over before billie speaks.

"mariah moore," she murmurs. "i've heard about you. best racer in town as of now, yeah?"

"yeah," mariah answers quietly. "you must be billie. haven't shown up to a race since 2022, correct?"

the question has no obvious bite, but the tone in which she says it has billie poking the inside of her cheek in frustration, nodding her head instead of saying something stupid.

"hurry up, girls," you interrupt, nodding toward the line as they both look up at you.

"yes, ma'am." they answer.

billie jogs back to her car quickly, jumping in and pulling around to the line, the crowd pulling back and forming a path for her. it's nearly silent now as mariah reverses just behind the line again, the low hum of both engines setting the mood.

tension is high as you step onto the track again, planting your feet firmly onto the small sliver of pavement between both cars.

you look over at billie, who flashes a smirk before turning back to the road, lips lowering into a thin, tight line. once she was focused nobody was able to break her out—not until after she won the race.

then you glance at mariah, who's already staring at the road, gripping her steering wheel tighter than she did when put up against taylor and miles. the last race scared her, you could tell in the way she was so quiet after jumping out of her car earlier—so there was no doubt she was terrified right now.

your eyes flick to the pavement behind them, pulling out your gun and raising your arm, elbow straight. you inhale, exhale.

the gun goes off.

and so do billie and mariah.

billie's challenger jumps forward first in your peripheral, and you turn quickly to see who gets the starting advantage. it's billie, per usual. the adrenaline running through your veins is 20x more strong than it was when you were watching mariah's race. because after not seeing billie race in so long, you're unsure if she still has it.

but you don't lean into the doubt just yet.

mariah's red charger weaves around billie's challenger, taking the curve perfectly and bursting out of it. she doesn't get far. billie kicks her gear lower and speeds past mariah with practiced ease, accelerating quick and drifting on the last curve.

you hold your breath as mariah creeps up on billie, engine revving loud as she tries keeping up with her—but billie's already got the length of a car hood between her. the crowd screams in anticipation, watching as billie bolts through the finish line and slowly comes to a stop.

mariah follows behind her, tires not moving nearly as fast as billie's were. the crowd is speechless, not even hollering coherent words anymore, just babbles of nonsense and excited cheers and squeals.

billie reverses with her head sticking out of her window, a proud grin on her face as she parks just off of the track. she steps out, and you can already feel the smugness radiating off her even from a few feet away.

she walks over to mariah, tapping her shoulder and holding out a hand. "good race," she compliments. "'m'not bad, considering i've been gone since 2022, right?"

you see mariah's expression flip quickly, brows furrowing in frustration as she pushes away from billie and mutters something under her breath.

billie's in front of you before you can even announce the winner—even though it's clear.

"let's try this again," she breathes, taking your hand and bringing it up to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "miss me?"

your hand finds the collar of her shirt, pulling her close, lips mere inches away from hers. "you know i did."

you don't let her get another word out before kissing her. hard. passionate. like you've been waiting for this since the last moment you saw her. because you have. you've been waiting for it so desperately and now you finally get to do it.

her hands find your waist, pulling your hips forward, pressing your body flush against hers as she kisses you back just as passionately, eyes fluttering shut, heart thumping against her chest so loud she's sure you've already heard it.

you pull away abruptly, breathing hard. "let me show you."

billie doesn't miss a beat—and you don't even care about the small, sharp pain in your wrist as she twists it, dragging you toward her car and practically shoving you into the passenger seat.

you swear you hear aiden call after you, but billie's already pressing on the gas and speeding out of the lot without a second thought.

she doesn't drive far from the noise, pulling off to the side directly under a blue streetlight, a ray shining in through the tinted windshield. billie shifts into park, then glances over at you, still breathless.

neither of you say another word. you just climb over the center console and straddle her lap, legs pressed against either of her thighs, hands snaking up her chest and around her neck, squeezing lightly just to hear her gasp.

then you lean forward, lips finding hers, rougher than before—dirtier because you weren't accompanied by a large, judgemental crowd. billie's tongue presses against your lips, asking politely for entrance. you grant it without another thought in your hazy mind, moaning softly against her mouth when you feel her tongue clashing against yours.

her hands slide down your body, squeezing your waist gently. then they move down to your ass, pulling you down against her lap, pulling you closer to her like she wants to morph your bodies into one.

"don't ever fuckin' leave like that again," you growl against her lips, kissing down her jaw, then scattering open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of her neck.

she huffs a laugh, head falling back against the headrest, eyelids fluttering shut as she lets out a small, relaxed breath.

your teeth nip softly at her pulse point, eliciting a pained hiss from between her pretty lips—you soothe the bite with your tongue, sucking gently, the sensation a contrast from the sharp pain just moments ago.

billie brings a hand up to your hair, fingers tangling in the messy strands of your hair. "thought you'd have forgiven me by now."

a scoff escapes your throat at her words, but it dies down into a surprised gasp when she bucks her hips up, something hard pressing against your clothed core. a shiver runs up your spine.

"don't get an attitude with me now, sweetheart."

you roll your eyes, lips pressing back onto her skin, one of your hands snaking down her chest and slipping under the hem of her shirt, fingertips teasing the smooth skin of her stomach. her breath catches noticeably, pulse jumping under your tongue.

"i have every right to have an attitude with you," you grumble, palm finding the cup of her bra and squeezing through the fabric. "i should fucking hate you. i mean, you kissed me and then up and left without another word. a text would've been enough, billie."

billie bucks her hips again, groaning at the pleasure.

"let me make it up to you then," she pants, slapping your ass.

her hand untangles from your hair, sliding down your neck, your chest, your stomach, before eventually snaking down into your little shorts. the damp spot on your panties is enough to make her moan, eyelids fluttering open to meet your eyes as you gasp.

she stares directly into your eyes while stroking your clit through your panties, biting her lip and smiling as she watches your brows furrow in pleasure, hands finding her shoulders, nails digging into her skin even through the fabric of her shirt.

then she slips her fingers past the cotton waistband, fingertips sliding through your soaked folds, running along your dripping slit and slowly pushing in two of them. the moan that escapes your throat is long. loud. like you've been holding it in for her since before you can remember.

your eyes roll back when she scissors her index and middle fingers inside of your cunt, thighs trembling around her lap, nails unrelenting on her shoulders.

"yeah," she coos. "there you go, baby girl. just needed me to fill this greedy pussy of yours for you to shut up, hm?"

billie lets out a moan of her own when you roll your hips forward, pressing down just enough for her to feel it through both the fabric of your pants and her own. she bites her lip, hips bucking up involuntarily as she watches you get off on her fingers.

she inhales sharply. "so tight, too. fuck," she breathes. "been waitin' for me, haven't you?"

you nod mindlessly, jaw falling agape when billie pushes her fingers deeper, thumb finding your clit and pressing down hard. if that wasn't making you see stars, the added pleasure of her lips on your neck definitely was.

"billie, oh my fucking—" you cut yourself off with a guttural moan, hips stuttering against her palm. "god—i—fuck you."

you feel her grin grow against your neck, lips so soft and plump and mind-consuming as she continues kissing you, fucking you. deep. hard. passionate.

"in a minute, doll," she teases. "can't even be patient and wait for my cock. so fuckin' greedy." she murmurs, kissing her teeth.

a low whine of frustration emits from your throat at her teasing, walls clenching around her fingers as you feel your orgasm start to approach quickly. your breathing goes shallow, quick, short breaths falling from between your kiss-swollen lips.

"shit—gonna, oh my god, m'gonna cum!" you whine.

billie huffs. "c'mon, mama. make a mess f'me."

and you do.

with a loud, broken moan, your walls flutter around her fingers and you finally feel the knot snap in your tummy. she slowly works you down from your high, muttering sweet nothings into your neck as she leaves a litter of kisses all over your skin.

her free hand creeps up your chest, fingers wrapping loosely around your neck—casually. like she owns you.

and after this, maybe she will.

"this make up for my absence?" she hums, thumb running along your pulse point, feeling it jump under the pad of her fingers. she presses down, eliciting a gasp from you.

you laugh quietly, but it cuts off into a disappointed moan when billie slips her fingers out of your cunt slowly.

she brings them up to her lips just as you open your eyes, pushing them in, plump lips wrapping around lengthy digits, tongue moving between the crevices and licking off every last remnant of your sweetness.

cold blue eyes never leave yours, eyelids hooded and dark with lust and desperation—and love, above everything.

you bite your lip, already pulling off your shorts and ruined panties, throwing them into the backseat. "m'still mad at you. but i know what'll make it better..."

billie releases her fingers with a 'pop,' a smirk growing on her lips once again. she cocks an eyebrow, tilting her head, eyes finally leaving yours to trail down your half-naked body. her eyes land on your dripping pussy, clit swollen and puffy, arousal leaking down your smooth thighs. she groans.

"yeah, and what's that?" she inquires, hips already moving.

silence. instead, you answer with your hands—fingers undoing the button of her jeans, then pulling down her zipper. you lift yourself slightly, tugging her jeans down until they fall to her ankles.

there's a small damp spot on her boxers, a large bulge prominent in the dark fabric, straining against it. billie whimpers when you cup your hand over the print, hips lifting instinctively at the touch.

she hisses when you squeeze gently, your eyes finally snapping up to hers.

"this—" you squeeze her again. then adding, "—inside of me."

billie nods eagerly, hands leaving your body, moving quickly to pull down the last layer of fabric that was currently denying her access to your core. she could feel the warmth stronger now that her lower half was clad in only her boxers.

you lift your hips again, helping billie tug the fabric down to ankles, joining her jeans. her cock springs up, slapping against her lower stomach softly before standing at attention.

her tip is a light red, leaking profusely with pre-cum that spills down her 9 inch shaft until it reaches the base. she's already such a sticky mess and you've hardly touched her.

it made you giggle.

"looks like you missed me more," you tease, looking at her through your lashes.

billie sighs, nodding again, hands scrambling to find your hips again. she tries pulling you closer, tries to even run the tip of her cock through your slick folds—but your nails dig into her forearms, and she yelps quietly.

"hypocritical much, don't you think?" you giggle again, and billie pouts deeply, hands relaxing on your hips. "patience, baby—remember that?"

you lift yourself higher, positioning your dripping slit directly over billie's tip, and you hear her breath hitch before you even sink down in the slightest. and when you lower yourself, billie lets out a noise you weren't sure she was even capable of.

she whimpers brokenly—high-pitched and already hoarse—as her cock splits you open, stretching you out slowly as you continue to lower yourself until you reach the base.

billie's nails dig crescent-shaped indents into your skin, the pleasure already too overwhelming.

"fuuck," she groans, dragging it out. her head falls back against the headrest, eyes squeezed shut. "you—fuck—have you, mmh, always been this t-tight?"

you moan softly when you feel billie buck her hips up again, her tip kissing your cervix. she gasps at the feeling, cock twitching between your gummy, warm walls.

her mind goes blank.

you stay in the position for a moment longer, trying to adjust to her size. your hands wrap around her neck, nails scratching along her skin and sending a shiver down her spine. the feeling of your breath so hot on her lips has her in a trance she's not sure she'll be able to break out of.

billie leans forward to capture your lips in a needy, sloppy kiss just as you start to move, hips lifting until all that was left inside of you was her tip—then slamming back down. hard. desperate.

both of your moans are muffled against each other's mouths, lips parting. you sneak your tongue into her mouth, tasting her—and she falls apart even further underneath you, fingers twitching at your sides.

your hands slide across her neck, hips grinding fast, hard, just right for the both of you—billie squeals into your mouth when she feels you clench around her.

"baby, fuck," she grunts, grabbing onto your hips tighter and thrusting her hips up, pushing her cock deeper. "missed you, missed you so—god, i missed you so much. c-couldn't stop thinkin' about you."

a moan passes by your lips when you pull away. "yeah? touched yourself to—shit—to me?"

billie nods frantically, brows knitting together and jaw falling lower. her hips stutter—a clear sign of her impending orgasm. but you don't stop. don't even pull away or slow down in the slightest.

you needed it. needed to feel her cum inside of you.

the windows fog around you, and now the blue shine from the streetlight is hazy, different shades of blues spilling in through the windshield and onto your bodies and faces. you can feel the car shaking beneath you two.

but it only urges you to keep going.

harder.

faster.

billie mewls quietly, struggling to hold herself together. "holy shit—baby. baby, baby, m'gonna cum! can't hold—fuck, i can't hold it, i—"

"cum, bil," you moan. loud. breathy. "want it—need it so bad. please, please cum inside me."

the second that jumbled sentence left your mouth, billie let herself go—body trembling, mind short-circuiting. your jaw falls open in a silent moan at the combined pleasure of your own orgasm and the feeling of thick, warm ropes of her cum painting your insides.

billie whimpers beneath your body, nuzzling her head into the crook of your neck like she needs your scent to stay alive.

it's all heat and heavy breathing after that—the windows still fogged, skin still layered with a thin sheen of sweat, loose hairs sticking to your neck and forehead. billie stays with her face in your neck, arms wrapping around your back, your own hands still around her neck.

billie pulls out slowly as not to overstimulate you any further, helping you lift yourself off her lap. you lean over the center console and grab your shorts from the backseat, pulling them on once you're seated in the passenger side.

you watch billie pull up her own boxers and jeans, buttoning and zipping them with trembling fingers, still facing a few of the aftershocks of her orgasm.

and, though she's still spent, billie's the first to talk.

"...do you forgive me now?"

you can't help but giggle—you wonder how she still even remembered the situation you two were in. it slipped your mind the second you sunk down on her cock.

"i think you know the answer to that," you exhale, stroking her damp hair gently.

billie hums, then pulls away from your neck, eyes softer than you'd ever seen—sincere, a little worried. "...yeah, but i wanna hear you say it."

your face changes, features softening once you hear the quiet, shaky tone of her voice. fear swirled in the pools of her ocean blue irises, and it's only then that you realize she really was worried about this the entire time.

taking her face in your hands, you pull her close, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of hers. she bites her lip, an unreadable expression flashing over her features—fear again, maybe. or maybe it's hope. you can't tell.

"i never hated you for leaving, billie," you explain. firm. "it just... scared me. i thought you wouldn't come back, and i almost lost hope—until tonight."

a ghost of a grin curls on billie's lips.

"so, yes, i do forgive you. even if i still think kissing me before leaving without another word was really low of you," you murmur.

billie inhales, exhales. "i know, that—that was stupid of me."

her lips find your cheek, then your forehead. and, finally, your lips. and then she looks at you again. "nationals were just... they were all over the place, and i finally realized that i had some sort of feelings toward you. but i didn't know what they were—"

"—and when you were the first one to come up and hug me after i won, i just—i felt so full of love and adoration and it all just spilled over and—" she pauses. finds her words. "and i kissed you because i felt like it was too early to tell you..."

she trails off, voice going quiet near the end. she looks away for a moment. and when she feels your thumb brush across her cheek, her eyes snap back.

"...to tell you that i loved—that i love you."

your breath catches.

it's not what you expected her to say—far from anything that popped into your mind. but everything you were thinking quickly faded as soon as she said those three little words:

i love you.

words that you'd only hear in teasing tones from drunk guys who came up to you during races, from racers that were still riding high on the adrenaline they got from winning.

but now, hearing it from billie, it felt like your whole world shifted on it's axis.

billie's cheeks flush pink when you don't reply, shifting uncomfortably in her seat and nearly pulling away from your touch—but you pull her back. into a kiss. one that's far more passionate than the ones before. it's filled with something you can't describe with words. something far stronger than love and adoration and admiration.

when you pull away, you're both out of breath.

"i love you, too," you murmur after a beat, eyes never leaving billie's. you wanted her to know that you meant it.

and, by the look on her face, you were almost 100% sure it got through to her. a cheesy smile curled up on her lips, her teeth shining bright even in the dark space of the car. you return the same smile, and billie practically throws her arms around you.

she pulls you as close as she can over the center console, nose nuzzled into your neck, inhaling your scent—and it felt like she was smelling an entire different person. because now there was a weight lifted off her chest and a something new blooming in her heart.

you hold her just as tight, unable to get rid of the stupidly big smile on your face—especially when you feel billie's fingers twitching nervously on your back.

you both just hold each other like that for a few minutes. in silence. but it's not an uncomfortable silence, far from it. it's warm. gentle. filled with shared understanding.

and, suddenly, you forget that she even left in the first place.

tags. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @love4madii @livvydunneness @partyf4vor @chxhir0 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @mybluebossanova @strwberrybils @justtr @greenbttrflyy @billsbaby @bilsova @lottiepierce @northlndnisred @asterisk-eyes @dragoneyelashart @xxangelfarrlzxx @ilomiloblohshh @kittymarrow @meliciousmel13 @jul3esz @rightarion @svelish @eilishssiennaa @eeuni @dragoneyelashart @thinkshespretty @cnnibalize @canthelpit0 @hailwiggly @karaaeilish @bilswifee @drunkinyourbenz @aka-persephone @bitchesbrokenpromises @jayjaywetforbils @slvt4subchratt @cantlandonmyfeet @tezzzzzzzz

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chow0w · 2 months ago

Note

Hi Chow! Would you resdesign Listener? She’s my fav, and I love your style so much!💗💗

Of course Ollie!! Thank you so much!

here's my take on listener! I originally wanted to give her huge bat ears to be on brand with the name, but decided against it as they weren't working well with her other features. She gives me really strong magenta vibes, so I changed her color scheme a lot to fit that + added some small pink star markings along her body and wings!

As for her frame, I wanted to really amplify the idea that Listener is tall for her age (As described in the wiki) by giving her longer limbs than some of my other designs. Her tail, head, wings and feet may seem slightly disproportionate: my effort to make her seem more like a kid going through a crazy growth spurt, compared to someone who's just tall. I'm sure Listener grew to be a more functional tall queen into adulthood, but she's definitely a little wobbly right now.

That's all for this design! Thank you so much for your request - I love seeing all of the characters that pop into my inbox, especially ones which I don't often think about - like Listener! This redesign definitely motivated me to re-read darkstalker. Below you'll find my current character waitlist, as well as a list of all the characters I've already redesigned - if you don't see your favorite down there, head over to my askbox!

Waitlist: Clearsight, Luna, Freedom, Bigtail, Cricket, Clay, Queen Thorn, Starflight, Darkstalker, Dune, Orca, Auklet, Hitvur, Arctic, Foeslayer, Snowfall, Grandeur, Sky, Lynx, Burn, Blister Queen Oasis, Queen Wasp, Dusky, Sundew, Hazel, Whiteout, Squid, Bumblebee, Sky, Winter and Kinkajou!

And for new readers, here's who I've already designed! You can find these guys further up in my blog: Lady Jewel, Tsunami, Blaze, Sunny, Blue, Moon, Typhoon, Albatross, Glory, Peril, and Turtle!

#wings of fire #wof #art #character design #wof redesign #nightwing #wof nightwing #nightwing wof #wof listener #listener wof #artist #wof artist

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nobodysuspectsthebutterfly · 1 year ago

Text

FYI artists and writers: some info regarding tumblr's new "third-party sharing" (aka selling your content to OpenAI and Midjourney)

You may have already seen the post by @staff regarding third-party sharing and how to opt out. You may have also already seen various news articles discussing the matter.

But here's a little further clarity re some questions I had, and you may too. Caveat: Not all of this is on official tumblr pages, so it's possible things may change.

(1) "I heard they already have access to my data and it doesn't really matter if I opt out"

From the 404 article:

A new FAQ section we reviewed is titled “What happens when you opt out?” states “If you opt out from the start, we will block crawlers from accessing your content by adding your site on a disallowed list. If you change your mind later, we also plan to update any partners about people who newly opt-out and ask that their content be removed from past sources and future training.”

So please, go click that opt-out button.

(2) Some future user: "I've been away from tumblr for months, and I just heard about all this. I didn't opt out before, so does it make a difference anymore?"

Another internal document shows that, on February 23, an employee asked in a staff-only thread, “Do we have assurances that if a user opts out of their data being shared with third parties that our existing data partners will be notified of such a change and remove their data?” Andrew Spittle, Automattic’s head of AI replied: “We will notify existing partners on a regular basis about anyone who's opted out since the last time we provided a list. I want this to be an ongoing process where we regularly advocate for past content to be excluded based on current preferences. We will ask that content be deleted and removed from any future training runs. I believe partners will honor this based on our conversations with them to this point. I don't think they gain much overall by retaining it.”

It should make a difference! Go click that button.

(3) "I opted out, but my art posts have been reblogged by so many people, and I don't know if they all opted out. What does that mean for my stuff?"

This answer is actually on the support page for the toggle:

This option will prevent your blog's content, even when reblogged, from being shared with our licensed network of content and research partners, including those that train AI models.

And some further clarification by the COO and a product manager:

zingring: A couple people from work have reached out to let me know that yes, it applies to reblogs of "don't scrape" content. If you opt out, your content is opted out, even in reblog form. cyle: yep, for reblogs, we're taking it so far as "if anybody in the reblog trail has opted out, all of the content in that reblog will be opted out", when a reblog could be scraped/shared.

So not only your reblogged posts, but anyone who contributed in a reblog (such as posts where someone has been inspired to draw fanart of the OP) will presumably be protected by your opt-out. (A good reason to opt out even if you yourself are not a creator.)

Furthermore, if you the OP were offline and didn't know about the opt-out, if someone contributed to a reblog and they are opted out, then your original work is also protected. (Which makes it very tempting to contribute "scrapeable content" now whenever I reblog from an abandoned/disused blog...)

(4) "What about deleted blogs? They can't opt out!"

I was told by someone (not official) that he read "deleted blogs are all opted-out by default". However, he didn't recall the source, and I can't find it, so I can't guarantee that info. If I get more details - like if/when tumblr puts up that FAQ as reported in the 404 article - I will add it here as soon as I can.

Edit, tumblr has updated their help page for the option to opt-out of third-party sharing! It now states:

The content which will not be shared with our licensed network of content and research partners, including those that train AI models, includes: • Posts and reblogs of posts from blogs who have enabled the "Prevent third-party sharing" option. • Posts and reblogs of posts from deleted blogs. • Posts and reblogs of posts from password-protected blogs. • Posts and reblogs of posts from explicit blogs. • Posts and reblogs of posts from suspended/deactivated blogs. • Private posts. • Drafts. • Messages. • Asks and submissions which have not been publicly posted. • Post+ subscriber-only posts. • Explicit posts.

So no need to worry about your old deleted blogs that still have reblogs floating around. *\o/*

But for your existing blogs, please use the opt out option. And a reminder of how to opt out, under the cut:

The opt-out toggle is in Blog Settings, and please note you need to do it for each one of your blogs / sideblogs.

On dashboard, the toggle is at https://www.tumblr.com/settings/blog/blogname [replace "blogname" as applicable] down by Visibility:

For mobile, you need the most recent update of the app. (Android version 33.4.1.100, iOs version 33.4.) Then go to your blog tab (the little person icon), and then the gear icon for Settings, then click Visibility.

Again, if you have a sideblog, go back to the blog tab, switch to it, and go to settings again. Repeat as necessary.

If you do not have access to the newest version of the app for whatever reason, you can also log into tumblr in your mobile browser. Same URL as per desktop above, same location.

Note you do not need to change settings in both desktop and the app, just one is fine.

I hope this helps!

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vunblr · 14 days ago

Text

A Hand in the Dark (#6)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Hurt/Comfort. Depictions of Physical Wounds. Psychological Trauma. Suicidal thoughts (neither Bucky nor Reader). Canon-Typical Violence. Suggestion of past non-con.

Summary: In a brief moment of lucidity, Soldat makes a choice. And some choices echo across time, shaping the future in ways no one could predict.

Word Count: 6k. CORRECTED VERSION

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

He stopped sitting at the table in the mornings. Stopped waiting for her to pour her coffee so he could watch the steam curl and the corner of her mouth twitch toward a smile.

He timed his business better now, earlier. Cleaning the apartment. Taking out the trash, washing the dishes. Laundry -tricky at first, but watched a video of how to use a modern washing machine-.

Her house was tidy, her world undisturbed. Like he’d never been there.

He still listened. Every creak of her bedroom floor, every open faucet, and the sound of her drawers opening when she looked for clothes. He mapped her routines again, not out of obsession this time, but for strategy. To stay out of the way. To be less seen. Less felt.

He still brought back food when he slipped out, always things she liked, even if he never joined her to eat them. He left the bags on the counter, the receipts shoved deep into his jacket’s pocket like contraband. One time, she called out a thank-you. He didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Instead, he stood in the hallway with his back pressed to the wall, waiting for the sound of the fridge and the cabinets closing, then the lock clicking again behind her. Only then did he let himself exhale.

He didn’t know how to talk to her anymore. Not without tasting guilt, or that damn chamomile. So he didn’t.

But he watched.

From across the street, when she walked to work. From the alley when she stopped at the hardware store. From the shadow of a parked car when she lingered to talk to the woman with the little dog outside the flower shop.

She didn’t know she had a second shadow, long and quiet and ready for violence.

His boots itched to move every time someone passed too close to her, spoke too loudly. His hands twitched for the weight of a weapon.

She would hate him for that if she knew.

Still, he couldn't help it. Couldn’t not follow her. The world was full of threats, and she was too innocent for it.

----

She noticed his retreating, of course.

Not all at once, but in little silences scattered through the days. The house felt quieter. Not peaceful. Not calm. Just quieter.

He didn’t hover anymore. Not behind her while she cooked. Not beside the fridge when she came back from errands with too many bags. Not in the kitchen doorway with a half-answer, half-huff when she asked what he wanted to eat.

She realized she hadn’t heard his voice in five days.

And before that, it had only been a muttered “yeah.”

She tried not to take it personally.

Tried to think of it as one of his phases. Tried to trust the way his boots still disappeared from the doormat in the early mornings, to find the quiet miracle of groceries restocking themselves, and the clean floor under her feet.

She didn’t know how to approach him without crowding him. Recovering had backsteps after all, and she feared making things worse if she brought it out.

----

One afternoon, a power outage at work, with half the block down, systems cut, and useless phones, made her boss grumble, and sent them home. She stopped for a pastry, imagined she might nap or read, or just watch some TV drama.

She didn’t call out. Just stepped through the entry, and that’s when she saw it.

Her laptop open on the coffee table. She tilted it out of habit, catching the website on the tab:

A shady, backchannel listing page. Low-res photos. Flickering neon ads.

Cash only. No lease. Month to month. No ID.

Her stomach dropped.

Beside it, a crumpled page. Lined notebook paper, three addresses in his handwriting.

Next to one, underlined: basement. back entrance. no windows.

The sound of the bathroom door unlocking made her freeze.

She turned just as he stepped out.

His hair was damp. The shirt clinging slightly to his body.

They looked at each other.

The distance between them was not more than a few feet, but it stretched like a chasm.

He just stood there. Eyes unreadable.

"H-hi," she managed, her voice barely above a breath.

He didn’t answer. His gaze flicked down, not in shame -he didn’t have the right to feel that- but like he was bracing for something.

"You're... you're leaving?" she asked, grabbing the strap of her bag.

His first impulse was to flee. To vanish into the hall, shut his door, and wait until the walls swallowed him whole.

But he didn’t. He made himself step forward, slowly.

No eye contact.

"I thought of knowing about a few places. Just in case-"

His voice cracked, barely holding together. He didn’t finish the sentence.

Didn’t even try to voice the possibility of her rejection.

"In case you have the need to leave?" she completed softly, tilting her head.

His jaw tensed.

"You feel ready to-"

"No."

His titanium hand clenched and unclenched at his side; the faint whir of the servo was audible in the silence.

"I'm not... ready for anything," he said, quieter now. "But if you ever decide..."

He swallowed hard. The rest didn’t come out. The sentence died between them.

He hadn’t expected her early at all.

Had been sloppy. Stupid. He’d made things worse.

Maybe this was it.

Maybe he’d just accelerated his ejection.

She tilted her head, puzzled, until the meaning of his words clicked into place.

If she decided.

Then it made sense, all of it.

The way he ghosted through the apartment after the incident at the store. How he cleaned everything while she slept. How he brought food and disappeared before she could thank him.

He wasn’t retreating, he was making himself invisible. Trying not to be a burden, trying not to get in the way.

She took a step forward, then shifted course, and sat gently on the couch instead.

“Could you sit with me? Just for a moment?”

He didn’t move. Couldn’t.

His heartbeat pounded so loudly it roared in his ears, drowning everything else out. Her voice came softer now, warm and coaxing.

“Darling, please. I know you want to sprint, but I think it’s time to talk.”

His jaw twitched. His titanium fingers opened and closed again, useless, and lost.

He didn’t want to sit, didn’t want to talk. He wanted to vanish.

But she’d called him darling.

So he fucking moved.

Each step felt like dragging a concrete block on each foot, but he forced his limbs to obey. He sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees and hands clasped tightly. His gaze was locked to the floor.

"Did I do something that upset you?" she asked gently.

His brows pulled together before he even looked at her. “No, why-” he started, confused.

"But said something, didn't I?" she pressed, worried. "For you to feel bad here? To think I want you to leave?"

He shook his head, short, sharply. No.

“Is it because of what happened the other day?”

His knee started to bounce.

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t even look at her.

Because it wasn’t her. She hadn’t done a damn thing wrong. It was him. His brain and its thousand traps inside it. His fucked wiring. His absolute inability to believe he could belong anywhere, or be wanted by anyone. Who would choose to live with him? With the mess he was? A twitchy and broken thing, too old to be this lost?

She noticed the shift in his body language. A too-sharp breathing, the jerky rhythm in his knee, his eyes still fixed to the floor as if he looked up, something would shatter. So she tried to undo the damage her concern had caused, too many questions, she understood.

"Okay," she said slowly, “just to be clear. I still don’t know what- I don’t know why you feel this way… but I assure you, I don’t want you to leave.”

His knee stilled mid-bounce.

“Why?” he rasped, barely audible.

She ran a hand over her face. “Because- damn. I don’t know how to put this.” She got quiet for a second, searching for the right words. “Yes, I helped you because of Granny. But…”

Another pause.

She huffed out a short breath. “You’re a good roommate, Bucky,” she tried to joke, even if her voice cracked a little at the end. “Contrary to what you might think… you’re not a burden.”

He blinked once. Then again.

“I won’t pretend I don’t know about… your past,” she mumbled.

That made his whole body go tense.

“I confess I did some looking, not that it is very difficult to do nowadays.”

His jaw clenched, and his fingers pressed hard into each other. Of course she looked. Anyone would.

“But I know whatever you did… it wasn’t really you.” She added.

That hurt in the worst kind of way. Because it was too kind. Because she believed that. His head dropped lower. Chin to chest. He looked like someone waiting for a blow that never came.

“And I can tell you’ve suffered a lot,” she said gently. “And you need time. To figure out who you are. What to do with your life now that it’s yours. Granny would've helped you without thinking, so I’ll do the same.”

Her voice didn’t shake. Didn’t falter. She meant every word.

“You’re welcome here, Bucky. As long as you need to be.”

And that did it.

His hands trembled. He didn’t try to stop them.

“…okay,” he whispered. Like it had to squeeze years of silence just to make it out.

And then -because he couldn’t bring himself to look at her, not yet- he shifted slightly closer.

"Ok". She echoed. Then- "Is it ok to hug you?" She asked above a whisper.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

He exhaled a long breath, thin and shaky, and then, slowly, he gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. His shoulders were still tense, his jaw clenched, and his eyes cast down. But he hadn’t said no.

So she moved carefully. Slowly closed the space between them on the couch and slipped one arm around his back, the other gently across his chest.

He didn’t flinch, but it was like holding a statue. A trembling one.

Then, his breath hitched. His body relaxed, and he tilted his head until his temple touched her shoulder. His arms moved slowly around her waist. The metal hand settled at her back, too lightly for its weight. As if he feared hurting her. His chest trembled. And her sweater, -over her shoulder- went damp.

"It's ok, sweetheart," she soothed him. "You'll be alright. We are roomies, hm? It's... this is your house until you decide otherwise." She needed to reinforce the concept of belonging in him. And before she could stop herself, she angled her face and pecked the crown of his head.

He didn’t pull away.

Just… froze.

For a second, she thought she’d crossed a line, until she felt it.

That slow, nearly imperceptible exhale against her collarbone.

A tremor deep in his chest, and then his weight shifted subtly, leaning in, seeking more warmth, more contact, like some animal who’d learned what gentleness was late in its life and clumsily sought for it all the same.

His voice, when it came, was muffled against her sweater.

“Don’t wanna go.”

Barely audible. Childlike.

“You don’t have to,” she murmured, lifting one hand to stroke his hair. “You don’t ever have to, unless you want to.”

“Didn’t want you to think I was…” he didn’t finish. Voice hoarse. “Too much.”

“You’re not,” she said.

Another breath. Rougher this time. He nodded against her, a raw, exhausted nod.

She held him tighter.

And this time, he didn’t freeze.

----

She padded into the kitchen, sleepy eyes adjusting to the pale wash of morning light.

He was already there.

The scent of coffee hit her first, strong, fresh, the kind she liked. Then she saw him, standing by the counter in a clean t-shirt, also barefoot, hair still damp from a shower. His broad back was tense, the way someone looked when they weren’t sure if they were supposed to be in a room, but showed up anyway.

She blinked. He didn’t turn around right away. Was that…a second mug?

Bucky shifted his weight like the floor might give up under him. His shoulders dipped when he finally glanced at her, quick and unsure, as if he expected to be scolded for using the kitchen.

“I didn’t know if I should,” he said, voice hoarse from disuse, from sleep, from yesterday. “But I figured maybe I should start acting like I live here.”

She smiled, still groggy, and stepped forward. “I’m glad.”

He slid her mug across the counter with gentleness, his fingers barely brushing the ceramic. Then-

“Didn’t know if you’d want to see me today.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, lifting her brows, searching his gaze.

He shrugged. “Yesterday was a lot.”

Her hand settled lightly on the counter, not touching him, just… there.

“It turned out ok. We were able to talk, frankly, we needed it.”

He nodded slowly. Took a careful sip. Looked down into the coffee like it offered a way forward. “I used your beans,” he said eventually. “The good ones.”

“Good,” she murmured, sipping hers. “That’s what they’re for.”

He made a small sound. Might’ve been a laugh, or maybe just surprise that she hadn’t shooed him back into a corner. And then -tentatively- he leaned a hip against the counter beside her stool, angling his body toward her ever so slightly. Close enough to make it real.

“You smell like my shampoo,” she added after a beat, nudging his arm.

He stiffened, embarrassed. “Ran out of mine.”

“It’s fine. Apple suits you.”

That drew a flick of his eyes her way. A blink. Something warmed, barely, at the corners of his mouth.

----

After a while of eating in silence-

"I'm returning late today," she said, halfway through a bite of toast.

He stiffened. Subtly, but unmistakably. The way his jaw locked. The way his hand paused mid-air, mug halfway to his mouth.

"It's the 20th anniversary of the bookstore," she went on, like it was nothing, like it didn’t send his nervous system skittering. “There’s an event.”

“Will you be on time to catch a bus?”

She looked up, surprised by the sharpness in his voice.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe I’ll have to take a cab. The late hour frequency is pretty shitty. At least they pay me the extra hours double for this.”

He didn’t realize his hand had moved until he felt the fabric. The soft cotton of her pajama top between his fingers. Clenched.

Her eyes dropped to his hand.

“Bucky-”

“What time?” he cut her off.

“What?”

“What time you go out?” His voice rasped with urgency, eyes wide, scanning her like she might dissolve. “I’ll go wait for you. You can’t be alone so late.”

“Bucky,” she tried again, softer now, hand touching his wrist. His knuckles were white. “You don’t have to-”

But then she saw it.

The panic. Small, contained, but there.

He wasn’t trying to be gallant.

He was afraid.

“...Around nine,” she murmured.

He gave a small nod. Didn’t release her pajama right away.

“I’ll be there.”

----

He was there at eight-forty five.

Just in case.

Low cap pulled down to shadow his face, gloved hands stuffed deep in his pockets. He stood across the street first, then eventually migrated slowly, silently, to lean against the wall beside the bookstore’s big front window. Eyes half-lidded. Watching.

She’d said nine. It was nine-thirty.

His jaw shifted.

Through the glass, he could see the warm lamplight and too many bodies still milling around. Books clutched against chests, people laughing too loudly for the hour. She was behind the counter, tired but still smiling, her hands were a blur as she rang someone up. And next to her -too close- was a man. Early forties, probably. Jeans, salt-and-pepper stubble, and a cocky familiarity in the way he set his hands on her shoulders to pass behind her.

Bucky’s fingers curled into fists inside his jacket.

He didn’t blink. Just stared.

And even when the man moved on, when she shifted to the side and returned to her register, his jaw didn’t unclench. His breathing stayed shallow, grinding his teeth. He told himself it was nothing. It had to be nothing. But his feet itched to stomp through the front door, his body tensed by an old reflex to protect.

Fifteen minutes later, the door opened and she stepped out, hugging her coat close to her chest. She glanced once across the sidewalk, and then her eyes landed on him.

Her smile bloomed, small and surprised.

"You came!" she said, coming up to him.

"You’re late," he muttered.

Her head tilted. “Told you. Busy day.”

He didn’t answer. Just stepped off the wall and fell into step beside her.

They walked a few paces in silence. Then-

“Everything okay?” she asked.

He shrugged. "That guy," he said, not looking at her.

Her brows pulled together. “Which-?”

"The one who touched you."

She blinked, surprised, then gave a soft little laugh.

"That’s Rick. He owns the place. He’s like that with everyone."

Bucky’s nostrils flared, but he said nothing. He didn’t trust himself to.

"Hey," she added gently, nudging him with her elbow. "Thanks for coming."

He didn’t answer again. Just kept walking, matching her stride. He didn’t know what to say. He only knew it mattered that she got home safe. That she saw him waiting. And that the world wasn’t going to hurt her. Not if he could stop it.

She didn’t let him walk behind her this time. She moved closer, their coats brushing as they strolled to the bus stop.

----

The door clicked shut behind them, the hallway light flickering once as she stepped in first, rubbing warmth into her hands. Then, her nose twitched.

She sniffed the air, tilting her head.

“…You cooked again?” she asked, hanging her coat with a lazy swing toward the wall hook before walking toward the kitchen.

He followed slowly, silent in his boots, tugging off his gloves finger by finger. The leather creaked. Then the jacket came off too, slung carefully over the back of a chair.

“Figured you’d be hungry,” he mumbled without looking up, already moving toward the cabinets to grab two bowls.

She smiled at his back, hair still tousled from his cap, the careful way he moved around her space like he was afraid to jostle it, and turned on the burner to reheat the stew.

“You’re the best,” she said, almost absently, digging for two spoons in the drawer.

His hands stilled for half a second.

The praise made his pulse thud with a tight, invisible heat. He ducked his head, hoping she didn’t see the way his mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but close. Like a child who’d been told his crooked finger painting was beautiful.

He finished setting the table and put the bowls on the counter while she stirred the pot, back to him, humming a little to herself. A plate with bread. Water glasses. It wasn’t much, but it was… a contribution. He’d done something for her.

The silence stretched comfortably, filled with the clink of utensils and the low bubble of stew.

Then she spoke, casually.

“I was thinking…” she said, glancing over her shoulder, “you should get a phone.”

He lingered beside the table, his palms flat against the edge, head bowed slightly, long locks of hair covering his features.

A phone.

He shifted his weight uncomfortably. Not with her -never with her- but with the idea.

He hadn't held a phone in years, not one that wasn’t bolted to a wall or smashed to his face by a handler. The thought of something buzzing in his pocket, demanding things, reaching him -tracking him- created a cold knot inside his stomach.

“For me?” he asked softly as he sat down slowly, the chair creaking under his weight. “I don’t have anyone to talk to.”

“You’ve got me,” she said lightly, as she ladled stew into the bowls. “I mean…” she shrugged. “Maybe I can let you know if I’m going to be late from work. Like that day you got-” she hesitated, then gently, “agitated when I missed the bus. You wouldn’t have to wait or worry. And sometimes I buy things spontaneously, and I could ask you if you want anything. Or you could text if we’re out of eggs, or if you think of something we need. It’s just… for better communication.”

He looked up. She slid the bowls on the table and sat down across from him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Think about it. No rush.”

He nodded, almost imperceptibly. The thought of having one of those devices unsettled him; someone could track him. But the idea of her being late again, walking alone in the dark, unreachable, sparked the same protective instinct that bloomed in his chest every time she went out. Maybe she was right.

Maybe he didn’t have to make this about him.

Maybe it was about making sure she was safe.

“…Okay,” he mumbled.

Her gaze flicked up from her bowl. “Yeah?”

He gave another small nod. “If you think it’ll be useful… then okay.”

And the way she beamed at him, a smile crinkling her tired eyes, briefly brushing his fingers on the table in thanks, affected him harder than he expected.

He dipped his head again. Shoved a spoonful of stew into his mouth before she saw any sign of emotion in his face.

She’d said us.

He’d never had an us. Not for a long, long time, not since before they turned him into something else.

----

The phone trip happened on Monday.

They went together to a small corner shop two blocks away the apartment, with faded ads on the window and dusty shelves inside. She showed him rows of sleek smartphones. He barely paid attention before spotting a small, unassuming box in a backlit case. A clamshell model. No apps. No updates. Just numbers and buttons and a sound like a real ring.

“This one,” he said. Like choosing a weapon he trusted.

----

After that night by the bookstore, something shifted.

He was everywhere in the apartment again. He still was the helping sprite, but let himself be seen. Now she found him wiping down the counters in the early mornings, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, jaw set like he was facing down a mission. Or crouched by the laundry machine, watching the spin cycle like it might explode. He made meals -simple, hearty- and waited for her to take the first bite, barely touching his own food until she reacted.

He started watching her in a new way. Not the skittish, corner-eyed surveillance from the early days. But openly. Studying her. Gauging her responses.

Did she finish the bowl? Did she wrinkle her nose at the smell of bleach? Did she flinch at the way he diced the vegetables?

He didn’t ask. He never asked.

But his eyes always did.

And she learned to answer without waiting for words.

She started offering quiet praise, “This tastes amazing,” or “What a great way to organize this.” dropping them like breadcrumbs. She touched his shoulder lightly when passing him a dish. Let her hand rest a beat longer when returning a mug or ruffling his hair as she passed behind him at the sink. The first time he froze. Then leaned ever so slightly into her touch.

They were little signs of approval, and he absorbed them like oxygen.

By midweek, he began touching more. Testing the space between them.

A gentle tap on her wrist to ask about a grocery item. The brush of his knuckles to get her attention. Once, as she read on the couch, he sat beside her, -closer than usual, still tense- He stayed still a long moment, barely breathing. Then leaned -slowly, tentatively- just enough for his shoulder to ghost hers.

She turned a page. Lifted a hand. Ran it softly through his hair.

The exhale he gave was silent but immense. He melted by degrees, tipping his head toward her thigh, breath deepening like he’d been holding it for years.

She didn't stop.

His hair was longer and softer now. His fingers twitched on the couch cushion when her nails grazed lightly across his scalp. This was new. Not the hands on his hair, but the intent.

Hydra had pulled his hair to drag his face up. To yank him into place. To force his mouth open. Hands in his hair had always meant control, meant pain, meant humiliation.

Now her fingers moved the opposite way, gently, patient, with no agenda, or force. Just touch.

He trembled the first time she threaded fully through the strands. She said nothing, just slowed her pace, soothing with the pads of her fingers, again and again.

His eyes closed gradually. His shoulders relaxed in increments.

He melted like something unused to warmth, seeking more.

And when she brushed her thumb behind his ear, he made a soft, involuntary sound, not pain, not quite pleasure either, but something deeper. Like his body was remembering what tenderness could be.

----

Friday night, she woke at some point past two a.m. When she sat up and peered toward the floor, her eyes adjusted slowly to see his shape curled on his side next to her bed, one hand tucked beneath his cheek, the other clenched lightly in the blanket near her ankle.

She watched him for a moment, refraining from reaching, then lay back down. Pretended she hadn’t seen.

The same thing happened Saturday night.

By Sunday, she’d stopped pretending it wasn’t happening, it seemed he still needed reassurance.

She returned from the grocery store to find him finishing the dishes, his sleeves rolled up, hair still damp from a shower, barefoot and quiet. He glanced up when she entered, something like hope flickering across his face. Like he wanted to ask: Was this right? Was I good?

She stepped into the kitchen. Set down her bags. Touched the back of his hand with hers.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “You make this place feel… taken care of.”

Bucky looked away. But he didn’t pull his hand back.

He didn’t know what to say. Just that he’d do anything to keep hearing those words.

Keep being wanted.

----

That night, he went to bed.

His bed.

She was still up, on the couch with a book, curled under a blanket. He lingered for a moment in the hall, waiting, hoping she might rise. But she didn’t. Didn’t look up. Just turned another page.

He’d barely made it under the covers before sleep took him.

It started slowly, smoke curling at the edges of his memory, the vague sense of rain and concrete. Then, sharp. Instant. A scream.

A boy. Just a boy.

Maybe sixteen. Maybe younger. Wrong place, wrong time. Books were flung into the alley. Blood soaking the pages. History textbook. Biology workbook. The glint of a school ID card already turning crimson. The boy had stammered something twice. “Mom. I want my mom.”

And Bucky -no, the Soldat- had looked down at him with nothing in his face. Just finished the job.

The nightmare didn’t wake him with a scream. Just a sudden, jarring bolt upright in bed. Sheets tangled on his legs. Cold sweat in a heaving chest. Hands clenched tight in the blankets.

Because it wasn’t just a nightmare.

It was a memory.

That boy hadn’t made it into Hydra’s reports. He hadn’t made it into anything.

But Bucky remembered now.

He’d killed a kid going home from school.

He sat there until dawn, frozen. Couldn’t stand. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t wash the blood off his hands. It had soaked into him. Into everything.

----

When she woke up Monday morning, the apartment was quiet. Not unusual.

He wasn’t in the kitchen. Not making coffee. Not folding blankets. Not checking for the tenth time the squeaky door down the sink.

Maybe he’d gone out. Maybe exploring, maybe grabbing some meat. He did that sometimes now. She didn’t worry right away.

Not until she left for work and her calls went straight to voicemail. Every message unread.

Not until he didn’t come home that night either.

The next morning, still no sign of him. And she felt it now. That needle-prick worry in her chest.

----

It rained on her way back from work. One of those sudden, slap-you-sideways storms, fat drops and wind biting through her sleeves. She took the alley, shortcutting the block, her coat clutched around her body as she grumbled under her breath.

And then she saw him.

Barefoot. Soaked. Blood drying in crusted rivulets on his fingers and the side of his face. Hair clinging to his neck, tangled and heavy. Standing in the same damn spot she’d found him all those months ago.

Unmoving.

Like time had reset itself and dragged him back to the start.

“Bucky?” she called softly.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t turn.

But his eyes cut sharply toward her.

And oh god, he looked… he looked ruined. A hollow stare of someone who didn’t think he deserved to exist.

She stepped closer. “What are you doing here, sweetheart? You’re going to get sick.”

Could he? Get sick? She honestly didn’t know. Probably not. Probably pumped full of Hydra’s best immune boosters, but that wasn’t the point.

Still nothing.

So she reached carefully.

“I- I’m going to take your hand, alright?”

Still no answer.

But he didn’t flinch.

Her fingers closed around his flesh hand, cold and limp, with knuckles scraped raw. And she felt the tremble in his body.

She didn’t comment on the blood at first.

Didn’t flinch at the chill soaking through his skin. Didn’t ask what the hell happened, why his lips were blue, or why his shirt was torn, or what he’d done to himself.

Because he let her take his hand.

She guided him step by step, one slow inch at a time, from the alley to the building entrance. Her soaked coat clung to her legs, her shoes squelched with every footfall, but she didn’t stop.

The elevator creaked under their weight. He didn’t look at her.

Just stared ahead, water dripping from his nose, his hair plastered in wet ropes down the sides of his face. Blood -some old, some new- clung to his shirt, also drying in flecks across his jaw, a smear on his temple.

When they reached the apartment, she unlocked the door with shaking fingers, and ushered him in. She closed the door behind them and turned to face him, heart beating like a drum in her chest.

“You’re home now,” she said softly.

That word -home- did something to his face.

Cracked it down the center.

She reached for his jacket, but he didn’t shrug it off. Didn’t move.

“Okay,” she murmured. “Bathroom.”

She led him again, and again he followed.

She peeled the jacket off slowly, gently, watching for any flicker in his eyes. Then the soaked shirt, the stiff gloves, the belt. All of it came off like dead skin. He didn’t help, but didn’t resist.

He stood there, shivering, stripped to his boxers in the glow of the bathroom light, like a penitent carving.

Cuts streaked across his chest and thighs. His hands were smeared with old blood. Dirt caked beneath his nails, under the skin of his knuckles. His metal arm hung slack, the shoulder where it joined his flesh inflamed, skin torn and raw.

She knelt in front of the tub and started the water. Checked the temperature three times. When it was warm, not hot, she turned back and touched his wrist.

“Come on,” she coaxed.

He obeyed with the silence of shame. Sat only when she guided him down slowly, like easing a wounded animal into comfort.

He winced when the water kissed a gash on his shin. But otherwise, he didn’t make a sound.

She brought a new clean washcloth. Soap.

And she began.

She scrubbed blood from his wrists, some of it already dried to rust. Lifted each of his fingers, gentle and sure, and worked the dirt from his nailbeds. Wiped the grime from the sides of his torso, the bruise blooming along the underside of his arm.

She tried not to react, but it was hard.

His thighs were mottled deep purple, like he’d pounded his fists into them again and again. His temple was raw, scuffed, like he’d slammed his head against a wall. The skin around the metal shoulder was torn in angry streaks, as if he’d tried to rip the prosthesis off with his bare hand.

Punishment.

That’s what this was.

She didn’t ask why. Not yet. It wasn’t the time.

Then she reached for the shampoo, poured it into her palms, and lathered it gently through his hair, careful not to pull. The water trickled down his spine. He sat very still, arms wrapped around himself. His back rose and fell with shallow breaths. When she reached the crown of his head, he bowed forward between her hands, and he made a sound.

Not a cry. Not a sob. But something hollow and cracked and barely human.

She cradled his head as gently as she could. “It’s okay,” she whispered, “You’ll be ok.”

He didn’t believe her. She knew it.

But he needed to hear it anyway.

By the time the bathwater turned tepid and his hands stopped shaking, she had wrapped him in the largest towel they owned, tucked it under his arms like one would do with a child. A dry pair of underwear sat folded beside the sink, ready when he needed it. She didn’t ask him to change yet. Didn’t push. Just helped him out of the tub, and sat him down on the closed toilet lid, then she ran a comb through his wet hair. His shoulders curled inward, like he was trying to fold himself into something smaller.

When he leaned into her touch, she didn’t speak. Just kept brushing.

Then it came, the first sob. His hands clutched the edge of the towel at his waist. And then the next one came, and the next, until his shoulders shook under her hands and his breath was ragged with grief.

She dropped the comb. Slid down to her knees. Pulled him to her.

And he let her.

His forehead pressed to her shoulder, wet hair clinging to her collarbone, his weight leaning forward like the whole world had given out beneath him. His hands trembled against her back, barely gripping.

She held him through it. Just held.

And when his sobs finally quieted, when he’d cried himself to exhaustion and sat there limp and burning with shame, she spoke very softly:

“Do you want to share the bed tonight?”

No answer at first. He didn’t even lift his head.

But after a long silence -just as she thought he’d shut down again- came a whisper. Barely more than breath.

“…Yes.”

----

She waited just outside the bathroom, perched on the hallway wall. She listened to the faint rustle of fabric, him changing slowly, carefully into the dry underwear she’d left folded on the counter.

When the door opened, he stood there, towel in hand, hair damp and curling at the ends, eyes unsure.

She didn’t comment. Just gave a soft nod and extended her hand.

“Come on,” she murmured.

She led him to the bedroom, and he crawled into the bed with obedient exhaustion. The sheets were cool.

“I’ll be back in a second,” she said gently, and he almost panicked -just for a flicker of a second- before she brushed his shoulder. “I promise.”

He stayed curled on his side, watching the door. Her steps moved toward the kitchen, water running, the clinking of a kettle. Then the sound of something being filled.

When she returned, it was with something bundled in a thick cover, a warm, rubber water bag tucked snugly into one of her old flannel pillowcases. She lifted the blanket and sheet and slipped it down by his feet without a word.

He flinched at first, then stilled.

The heat spread slowly into his skin, through the ache in his frozen feet. His eyes burned again, but he blinked the tears back.

He didn’t know anyone still used that in modern days.

She turned off the overhead light and climbed into bed beside him, careful not to jostle the mattress too much. He stayed on his side, facing away, but she could hear his breathing, slower now.

Neither of them said anything.

They didn’t touch. Just lay there, the silence stretching comfortably between them. Her body was close. He could feel the faint warmth next to him. Hear the gentle rhythm of her breathing. Smell her scent on the sheets.

He wasn’t used to this. Sharing a real bed without violence, without expectation. Just… company.

It felt safe enough. Quiet enough.

So he closed his eyes and let himself drift.

Next Chapter

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