#no resentment. no anger. just neck nuzzles & a hug | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alicerosejensen · 9 months

Note

Please, since you are responding to requests now, then you may have a little specific text or headlines about how Leon ID, RE4, RE6, Vendetta (any one you like better) copes with the fact that the reader constantly abandons him for the fictional ideal of another man, but in the end always she returns to him, and Leon just loves her so much that he can't refuse her.

If it's too much for you, but please forgive and forget.

No it's fine) I fucking loved the idea. If the text comes out good enough, then maybe I'll even write the second part if someone likes it 😉

Who is she?

Warning: Reader asshole (I apologize); Fem.reader; cheating; Leon constantly forgives; unhealthy relationships; There is a barely noticeable mention of the age difference; Any version of Leon

Synopsis: Leon is tired of forgiving you over and over again, knowing that you always run away from him to another man whom you consider your prince, but when you are disappointed… maybe he should think about himself?

note: I don't think Leon could forgive cheating at all, and even if he did, it would only be once, but just let's dream a little. This man has so much shit that in some of the alternate universes we can imagine that he can forgive the reader.

English is far from my native language, so I apologize for all the errors.

First of all, he was also tired of impermanence. Glass after glass and the beloved princess who is constantly looking for a charming prince again in his head becomes an innocent maiden with soft skin and not that ruinous mermaid who somehow constantly pulls him into her nets. Fingers hold a glass of whiskey in his hands and Leon sees his own reflection in the amber liquid. At the time, you could really be the same sea woman from the legends who drags sailors to the bottom of the oceans, but the trouble is that Leon is at the bottom of the bottle every time you think you have found an incomprehensible ideal in which you will definitely not be disappointed anymore.

Maybe it was your inexperience and young age? Leon remembers how he met you, and he didn't need much. Maybe one or two nights without commitment, without love, because in her heart lived a mysterious woman in red, who sometimes left paper airplanes with traces of lipstick after rare nights.

But you…

For some reason, you have sunk deep into his blood, and Leon himself could not let you go. Gentle touches, stroking your hair in a dream, it was as if he had returned to the skin of Leon's rookie with puppy eyes full of devotion in his gaze. When he nuzzled your neck, touching the skin with his lips, hugging you around the waist so tightly, but painlessly.

It wasn't even about sex, but rather about some kind of warmth and comfort that enveloped like a light veil. Passion was, however, Leon quickly left it in the background, making love to you his priority. Not just a physical attraction, but something more sublime. Just to lie together like this while you're texting someone on your phone, leaving him blissfully unaware that a replacement has been found for him.

"After all, you said yourself that you don't need love," you told him the first time he saw this fucking correspondence in one of the last chats when you were taking a shower. "And I want to be loved"

Then you stood in front of him in a towel with wet hair, while he clutched your phone in his hand, trying to suppress the desire to smash it on the floor. Last night you told him that you were fine with him, and later corresponded with another guy, telling him the same thing. Anger from resentment completely filled his soul. But you were right… He immediately made it clear that he didn't need a serious relationship, but didn't you see all his sincere affection afterwards? He gave you everything you wanted and treated you with such awe, as if he had fragile porcelain in front of him that needed to be taken care of.

And he let you go reluctantly, because it didn't occur to him that you needed those three simple words "I love you", which he didn't think of uttering even in a fit of passion.

The only thing Leon found solace in was alcohol and work that took away all moral resources. But returning to an empty apartment, he wanted more than anything in the world to see you, sleep and bask in the same bed or take you somewhere far away from the noisy city for a week to relax with him. However, his princess was with her Prince charming, which he unfortunately was not. Apparently Leon was some kind of antagonist of this story or just a minor character who is remembered when the plot demands it, because the princess soon became disillusioned with the prince who did not justify all her ideals.

And so history repeats itself… The mermaid swims out of the depths of the sea again to drag him to the bottom with her… It's a funny comparison considering that Leon himself lets you drag him to this very bottom. He forgave… It wiped away your tears, kissing your cheeks flushed from crying and pressed your body to his chest, holding so tightly as if you could fall.

You're so young. So inexperienced and probably a little touchy, so you ran away from him to some asshole who didn't appreciate you as the only flower in the whole wide world. Forgiving you was so easy.

You returned to him that was the main thing after which Leon was going to take care of you to the fullest, not intending to give you to anyone anymore. The relationship was the healing of his traumas. Leon did not even consider what happened between you cheating. There was just a misunderstanding, but now he was going to build trust with you. So as you lay on the crumpled sheets, his lips gently kissed your back. He liked the idea that he was no longer alone. That he doesn't need to live the worst moments of his life alone.

Therefore, returning home always made him look like a dog that was eager to see his beloved person to whom he was attached, and if Leon had a tail, he would definitely wag it so that he could demolish half the apartment.

"Why was it necessary to seek love from other men?"

Leon never considered himself the best partner in the world. Okay, maybe he really doesn't have enough free time to spend with you, but that never means he enjoyed being away from you! Gifts were just a way to make amends with you for his absence, but then he always tried to make up for lost time by inviting you to places ranging from expensive restaurants to a pleasant week-long romantic cruise.

But now, sitting at the table in his apartment and looking into your seemingly sincere tears with pleas for forgiveness, Leon remembers how you left him for the second time.

"What did you promise me?" His voice is ringing in your head, while a cold reaction, along with an indifferent smirk, leaves no chance.Finally, he raised his icy eyes to you, forcing you to remember all your false promises of loyalty to him. "How many times have you promised me that you love me, huh?

Do you remember this number yourself? because Leon is already tired of counting and forgiving.

Silence freezes between the two and only the sound of the heels of your beautiful expensive boots that he gave you not so long ago is heard. You walked up to him and a trail of your perfume enveloped his nose as your fingers stroked the back of his hand.

It is difficult to resist your feminine charms. Initially, Leon considered you the embodiment of a dream that he could reach. As a result, your game of "Love" turned out to be even worse than when Ada played with him. At least she was as honest with him as her secrecy allowed, and you...

"That the last suitor did not live up to expectations again?" sarcastically remarks Leon overturning the glass into himself, drinking the contents completely. "And my beloved princess is running back to the dragon's lair to start waiting for another stupid cute boy who, in her imaginary dreams, will be the one?" Alcohol does not dull the heartache that you brought him with your cheating.

"I'm sorry..." you whisper pathetically, gently grabbing his forearm causing him to let out a low chuckle "Please..."

"What is the number of times? The fifth?" The hand reaches for the bottle again.

Leon is tired of forgiving. Tired of listening to your vows of love and then finding texts with other guys and finding out that you go on dates while he risks his life on a mission.

However, Leon could not himself, he still loved you, but he could no longer forgive these endless antics. The second time, you ran away yourself, telling him that you had found the love of your life, leaving him completely discouraged and confused. That's just this "love" lived for only 2 months, and you couldn't take it anymore, running away from your new lover back to him. Crying, drunkenly clinging to him, and no matter how he was offended by your mean act, Leon's nobility did not allow him to leave you in trouble... Of course, he loved, of course, he wanted you to be there, so when you sobered up and looked at him with such sweet eyes full of tears and sincere remorse for the mistake you made, Leon didn't have the strength to give up on you.

In order for him to forgive, it was only necessary to snuggle up to his back, hug his stomach, sniff and say that you love him very much. You just made a mistake.

Exactly the same scenario was repeated for the third and fourth time, with the only difference being that Leon himself saw a chat with guys on your phone. The last time, he even waited out of interest to see if you would tell him about your subject sighing or if he would have to catch you red-handed again. Fuck, even Ada didn't play on his emotions like that. In the end, Leon decided that he had had enough.

But here you two are again. An endless cycle of cheating and forgiveness.

Part of Leon knew he shouldn't give in to you, but it was so hard to say no. It is already impossible to atone for such an act, and Leon rightly does not want to listen to sweet speeches again, trusting them once again so that in a couple of months he will start licking the wounds from your separation from him again.

"I made a mistake. Again," you said softly, and Leon even ignored you for a while, thinking about something of his own.

"A mistake?" Leon looked at you in disbelief. "It was a mistake the first time. Then I humbled myself and forgave you the second time, but the third, fourth and fifth? Are you serious?!"

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry."

Oh, those sweet cheeks of yours and tearful eyes that could destroy any defense of his broken heart. You always speak so sincerely that Leon does not understand if you are a good actress or if some kind of chemical chain is really going on in your head, because of which you are constantly looking for love on the side. It's always not enough for you, but for some reason you sleep with him, eat, live, whisper beautiful words and even make ill-conceived plans for children. Casually and more in jest than seriously, but these conversations were!

The problem is that he loves you, but your feelings for him are like a cigarette. And only ashes remain of them. With each new attempt, he wanted to believe that it would be just you and him, but there was always someone else. And Leon just doesn't know where to put himself. Clumsy in the relationship, he didn't even notice or didn't want to notice your manipulations, but looking into your eyes, he wants to forgive you again and again, giving another attempt to start over.

But there is a limit to everything.

"Leon…" a gentle, even voice interrupts the silence. He could dream about you for the rest of his days, thinking that somewhere in your heart there is still a real love for him. Therefore, when he looks up at you again, he feels only bitterness and sadness.

But what can you know about his sorrows? And yet Leon is not surprised by your presence here. You say you missed him, but this time he wasn't going to believe it.

"What do you want this time?"

"You" you answer without the slightest delay, watching as he drinks another dose of alcohol. "Only you. I know I hurt you, but now everything will be different!"

Finally, a sarcastic grin touches his lips. This makes you feel uncomfortable and your stomach seems to curl up inside, telling you that he is so tired of these toxic relationships that he no longer wants to get involved with anyone.

"Are you serious?!" Leon laughs, twirling the glass in his hands. "Where did that prince go? Believe it or not, I'm not even interested in what happened to you this time because you came running to me again to cry and ask for forgiveness. I've had enough of this shit. I'm done"

He already said this last time, but now you bite the inside of your cheek, taking an empty glass from his hands, pushing your fingers into his palm, hoping that tactile contact will give you the advantage to bring everything back and correct all mistakes.

Because of this, Leon head and heart are in conflict again. The desire to be with the woman he loved unrestrainedly was even stronger than Ada was attracted to, but his mind told him that it would be stupid. Even when you knelt down next to him.

"Please believe me. I understand how much pain I brought you, but I realized a lot. I don't need anyone else give me a chance to fix everything!"

"I really want to believe you. If only I could," he said before kissing your palm in his hand. "Not after all your games"

"No more games," you honestly admitted, trying to convince him.

As if it were true. He does not want to check your phone for the presence of questionable correspondence, looking through the texts of forwarded messages with lovers. He was annoyed by the thought of it, but he really still loved you. Besides, Leon didn't want you to get away with it anymore.

"All those meetings… they didn't really mean anything to me. But I only realized it now."

"You already swore to me in love, swore that those men meant nothing to you, but I always caught you and we went back to where we started. If it didn't mean anything to you, why were you always looking for love on the side? Looking for it from other men when I tried to give you everything you wanted?!" Leon lowered his gaze, looking at you with bloodshot tears. "I don't want to take it anymore" He said before grabbing his glass and taking another shot of whiskey.

"This…it was all such a huge mistake of mine. Foolishness."

"Foolishness?" He grinned and his beautiful blue eyes darkened with anger, "Maybe you just don't know how to be faithful? I forgave the first time because we had a condition that we only sleep, but when it turned into a relationship… I had the strength to accept you for the second, third fucking fourth time, but if you think I'm blind and stupid, then you're very wrong. Look for your ideal further since you haven't seen my kind attitude towards you under your nose!"

Alcohol flows through his veins causing the pain he felt to subside a little. His voice broke and Leon bit his lip, not wanting to say more, but here you are clinging to his back with your arms wrapped in a tight ring of hugs endlessly begging for stupid forgiveness.

"Why couldn't you just love me?"

"I love." Your voice almost turned into a plea when you saw that he was giving up. He let those hugs envelop him, but it didn't get any better. "I will never again… I will never betray you. Please believe me."

He would like to… however, he knows that these words are likely to be followed by another knife in the back. Your hands are too warm and it reminds Leon of those happy moments when he did not remember about your love affairs. About those moments when you were just together.

But then Leon stands up to his full height and you literally rush to him in the hope of that very forgiveness. Looks at him with puppy eyes, forcing him to press his cheek to your crown, feeling his beloved and such a native smell. And it was no less pleasant to respond to your kisses. Leon was just basking with you for a while, maybe because of a drunken fog in his head. The words of love were so tender, sweet and poured like honey into the ears, actually being poison. He could even spend the night with you in this state, but there wasn't that much alcohol in his blood.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." you grab his face by stroking his cheek with your thumb and for some reason he touches your nose with his nose, smiling sweetly. "give me another chance. The last one."

Leon presses against your forehead, pulling your hands away from him, and grabs your face. Not violent, no. But at the bottom of the sapphire eyes you see darkness. One move of his, and the thin neck will clearly break under the influence of his power.

Leon hates that feeling. He hates that you know what power you have over his feelings and heart. You need a couple of affectionate words, a puppy look and gentle hugs so that he digs into your lips with a rough kiss, to which you will respond

"It was the last chance." He said that when he pulled away from your lips, part of him knew that he was making another mistake "Damn it, you better live better according to every word you say. Because if I forgive you, I won't go through this rubbish anymore. Do you understand?"

Leon closed his eyes and exhaled, although he realized only at that moment that he was holding his breath. It was nice to feel your soft lips, even in a moment overshadowed by a broken heart.

"I love you," he whispered, hoping that this time it wasn't simple words that could easily turn out to be unrequited.

148 notes · View notes

romanoffsbish · 2 years

Text

Lessons Learned

Natasha Romanoff x FemWife!Reader

Maria Hill x Sister!Reader

Maria Hill x Carol Danvers

Unwelcome Surprise (Part 1)

Warnings‼️:

Jesus Christ, prepare yourself for a potentially broken heart, but a happy ending is promised ❤️

90% of this is Natasha unpacking her trauma, and being resistant to the feelings.

Murder, Violence, Trauma, Childhood innocence lost, feelings of inadequacy, possibly more (please let me know 🤷🏼‍♀️)

10k+ words ; Angsty with a happy ending, reader focused on herself and Nat's definitely put in the work as requested which is why it ended up being so long 😂.

Enjoy Part 3/4 of the Part 2 party palooza❤️

——————————————————————

One week, seven days, 10,080 minutes, and she didn't even want to consider the seconds.

If you were to ask the woman what was harder: "Single" Parenting or Avenging, she'd answer you before you could even mutter the second option. After now having dealt with a distraught toddler, and the six year old that's apparently going on sixteen she's absolutely besides herself.

You've barely said but three words to her since walking out on her the night of the party. Whenever you do call it's something along the lines of "Where're the kids," then you'd let Mason talk your ear off before sighing heavily as Lily says hardly a word before you're hanging up, leaving Natasha to deal with the even sadder toddler, and the brooding child.

When she'd arrived to Laura's without you, looking distraught herself she was met with an apologetic smile, then passed a crying toddler. Mason pulled his thumb from his mouth so that he could wrap his arms tightly around his mothers neck, then continued to lightly sob until he eventually cried himself to sleep. In contrast, Lily had greeted her with a beaming smile, and a hug that nearly toppled her over.

————

Natasha was currently drowning in a bottle of whiskey, kids finally down for the night, left wondering how in the hell everything had managed to get this bad. One day you're like giddy teenagers—crazy in love, the next you're fighting like those high school sweethearts who were bound by unwavering resentment and the accidents created in their early twenties.

The family she so desperately yearned for, then somehow against all the odds forged, is now broken, and she's fearful it's irreparably so. With no one else to blame but herself she can do no more than to wallow in her self pity. However, with the kids present she only has time to do so during the hours of 10pm to 2am, before she crashes on the couch—refusing to lay in the bed without you—for a measly four hours before the nightmare starts all over again at 6am.

——

You had spent that first night in the arms of your sister, crying all the tears you'd thought had already ran their course, but apparently that just wasn't the case.

"Let it all out little one."

"I'm not little." You'd grumbled through your pitiful sobs, feeling the way your sisters chest vibrated from beneath you as she laughed.

"You'll always be my little one Y/N/N..."

You scoff lightly, but betray your show of anger as you nuzzle impossibly closer to her for the much needed comfort, appreciative of the sporadic forehead kiss she bestows upon you.

Carol had tried to give the both of you space, but it was getting hard to do in their one bedroom apartment, and she honestly hurt the more she heard your sobs through the wall. With a light knock, and permission to enter granted she cracked the door open, juggling three mugs in her hand, and smiling at you.

Against their protests you'd crawled out of your sisters lap so they could cuddle; gratefully accepting the mug of chocolate goodness in return and cracking a faint smile at the intentional overload of whipped cream and marshmallows on your designated mug.

A curious silence fell in the room, your sisters head falling to her lovers shoulder while an arm wrapped loosely around her waist, the low drum of whatever late night comedy rerun that's on this early in the morning filling the room as you all sipped upon your drinks. Intrusive thoughts all flooding your mind once the surrounding silence seeped in.

"What did I do wrong?"

At the sound of your broken voice Maria was quick to settle both your mugs down on the side table, firmly grabbing your face to redirect your gaze to her as she gave you a firm glare. Having not seen you looking this small since your shared painful childhood, and just in this moment she could see herself pulling one over on the reformed assassin.

"Absolutely nothing. Romanoff is nothing more than an incapable idiot with the emotional maturity of a fruit fly, I told you that when you accepted the date, did I not?"

"Oh you hush..." You defeatedly groan, yanking your face out of her hands and dramatically flopping back onto their shared bed.

Maria jumps to fill the space next to you, jostling both yours and Carol's bodies as she touches down. Propping herself up onto her elbows so that she could stare down at you since you're laying flat on your back while Carol quietly grabs a blanket and slips out for her voluntary night on the couch.

"Seriously honey, you didn't do anything wrong. You've been an amazing mother to those beautiful children, and an even better wife to the woman who's left you high and dry more times than I can count."

Her thumb was quick to tug your lip from between your teeth, then to wipe away at the stray tears threatening to drip upon her sheets.

"It was so good you know... Before Mason was born we were doing so well, then somewhere between Lily's third birthday, and his birth something changed. After her mandatory three months off she returned to Shield, work had become her main priority, it was like she was moving on autopilot, she'd wake up, have her coffee, leave what felt like obligatory kisses to all of our foreheads as she exited, then she'd be gone all day, if not the rest of the week."

"Did something happen?"

"Not that I was made aware of, it wasn't even a gradual shift either; literally out of nowhere she became distant, then whenever I'd attempt to approach her it was a dismissive comment that led to a blowout fight. It was as if I wasn't even worth her time of day anymore, I just wanted to know what happened, so that I could try to fix it. What have I done that I am not deserving of at least that? I have given her ten years of my life, my twenties were hers, and I'll be damned if I'll waste my thirties miserable."

Maria releases a drawn out sigh, not entirely sure how to respond to you, but as your big sister she begins to work towards fixing things.

"I don't have the answers honey, only she would, but honestly I'm not sure she knows why either. I can however offer you what I do know. Natasha loves you a lot honey, even if her way of showing it is backwards, you can decide how you wish to take that information. Whatever you do Y/N/N, don't just go running back to her, but don't just throw in the towel either, not without at least one more attempt to fix things; don't be like our parents Y/N/N."

Maria watches you wincing at the mention of your late parents, but she feels the tough love angle is important, hopefully clarifying even.

"You've put in the work when it came to your trauma Y/N/N, you willingly sought out help, and you are the better one of us for it. You're two times the mother ours ever was, and that's a fact... Natasha, if we're being honest here didn't, and though incomparable hers runs a hell of a lot deeper than ours ever did. It seems to me that she only ever buried herself in you, willing your presence to make it all go away, and for awhile it probably did work for her."

It's true that Natasha had hardly spent anytime processing her trauma before she had met you. Freedom had never really meant free for her, she was able to "escape" the Red-Room with the help of Shield, and in turn she handed them her whole life until she found you, who she then passed the blazing torch to.

"From experience though we both know that's not how the healing process works, I think that something has potentially triggered her and without the resources to understand it's fair to assume she didn't even realize it. We both know she's too proud, afraid even to face the darkness that is her past, but I fear if she doesn't have the motivation to face it she'll just continue down this destructive path.."

Maria's words had struck a chord within you; running from your problems will get you nowhere, and throwing in the towel on your marriage isn't exactly your goal here either. Taking a step back sounded more like it, striking the fear of God into the redhead before you return to her with a list of ultimatums.

"Plus, she put in for a year off as soon as the undercover mission was forcibly extended, which we both know is huge. It's like the former assassin's equivalent to a root canal."

"Damn 'Ria, you should've been a shrink." You laugh out, then move to cuddle against her.

Your genuine laughter helped to soothe Maria's worried heart—you're going to be okay, it'll just take time...

—

The following morning you were off, not willing to stay in plain sight in case the redhead set off to find you. So, you did the next best thing by taking the offered jet—Maria's orders, and the accompanying black card from the millionaire's hand, his profuse apologies more than accepted since you'd now been given this freedom to travel the world as you'd always dreamed.

Taking off was rather liberating actually, first on your list was to travel within the states, and with the jet it made it a fairly easy conquest. Every sunrise, and sunset along with the designated meal times was spent within a new state, with the exception of California, Texas, Alaska and Hawaii being lucky enough to have full days. It took you exactly two weeks to travel to all the unseen spaces, and though it was exhausting at times you refused to miss it.

When you eventually arrived in California, you'd started with a walk along the Golden Gate bridge to catch the sunrise, feeling as free as can be once the ocean breeze hit your face. The way this one state had such a variety of climates had you in relative awe, viewing the snowy mountains off in the distance, while toes hesitantly dipped into Tahoe's crystal clear lakes. Quite the experience honestly, skipping the rocks while grubbing on some fantastic tacos from a truck. You'd enjoyed observing the entirety of the sunny state, forgoing Los Angeles for your children's sake, and honestly being grateful you weren't traveling by car, because the people here were truly reckless.

You were fortunate enough to catch a view of the Northern lights from quite a few states, you walked along the shores of beaches, and visited sights like the Space Needle, or "The Worlds Largest: Ketchup bottle, Cheese Wheel, Potato" and so much more that you'd never imagined needed to be memorialized.

After the states you traveled across the entirety of many contents, sightseeing at the forefront, but more so you'd been on a journey of self discovery. You'd seemingly forgotten yourself over the years after becoming a wife and then a mother, so you emerged yourself into a plethora of new worlds in search of clarity.

With every new adventure you'd found your soul feeling a tad bit lighter; even if your heart did hurt every time you heard your son shriek as you were hanging up, or your daughter's angry breathing on the other end of the line, and lest we forget the voicemails left in the middle of the night wearing you down just as much—you're not sure she even knew she was leaving them though.

The only clear problem ended up being how lonely you found yourself, it was so odd to you too because for as long as you can remember it'd always been just you. Sure, you had Maria, but with her climbing the ranks at Shield you were on your own a lot. Working on your undergraduate degree, which left you with so little time for fun, but full of hope for your prospective, bright future.

Then one day along while back Maria was invited to an event in which she refused to go alone, so she dragged your resisting form into a fancy venue against your will. Silently cursing her for having the upper hand of physical training on a regular basis over you. By the end of the event though you'd loosened up after having had your fill of champagne, and while dancing the night away you'd met the most gorgeous woman you'd ever laid eyes upon.

Natasha Romanoff, the woman you now call your wife, and the one who with one simple smirk, and a charming kiss to your hand had managed to reel you in. A whirlwind romance full of laughter, sex, and an abundance of love. Somewhere along the way though the laughter had died, and all you got were sparing moans, and loud screaming—not the good kind.

So, after two months of traveling, you shakily took the jet home to New York, then set off with your sister in tow towards the farmhouse. AirPods in playing your favorite podcast with your head leaning against the window to take in the New York skyline. Admiring the ways that the sun slowly rose, beams of light shining through the cracks between the skyscrapers. Maria sat beside you in her sunglasses, sipping upon her coffee while fulfilling her older sister duty of driving you through the city while Carol quietly sat in the back reading a book—you were starting to understand why she's such a good partner for your sister.

While you came to terms with a lot, and worked to understand your wife over blaming her you finally felt like you could breathe again. The last couple of months had been absolute hell for your wife though, your unwillingness to even share your location had been weighing heavily on the woman's heart, the possibilities for what you're doing were endless and that drove her mad.

Were you moving on?

Did someone else sweep you off your feet?

Is that why you haven't come back yet?

Did she really just ruin everything she spent years building up over her unresolved traumas?

The fear of losing you had always been her biggest, so she's not sure why she—entirely unprovoked, brought it to fruition.

Turns out your daughter was wondering much of the same... Lily had been hard on you, and had said some very mean things, but no matter what she could still depend on you to be there. Every time she would wake with a nightmare, even after treating you badly, she knew she could always climb into your bed at night. Without fail you'd pull her close, dry her cheeks, and sing to her until she was soothed.

Natasha sleeps on the couch though, and she's not getting much sleep as it is, so now she's left to face her fears on her own. The biggest one being that she somehow ran her mommy off.

Of course she did, she was cruel, and now you're just gone...

"Mama?"

"Hmm?" Natasha hummed, slowly peering over her third mug of coffee in under just an hour to see your daughter's distraught face.

"Oh lyubov', what's wrong?"

"I'm scared mama..." She cries, and Natasha rounds the counter, scooping the tiny girl up and into her tight embrace.

"Why are you scared angel?"

"I broke the family... I was mean to mommy, and now she's just gone... What if she never comes back? Mama, does she hate me? I-I. She's my mommy, she can't hate me... Right? I'd told her I hated her a day before she left, but I didn't mean it, I never meant it..." Lily says in a panic, her words incomprehensible near the end as she began to hyperventilate.

"Hey, slow down there angel... I need you to breathe for me baby, come on..."

Natasha is able to pull her out of the breathing fit, but her trembling body doesn't cease, Natasha just pulls her into her chest even tighter and rocks her tiny body.

"Oh Lily-bug... You have to know that your mommy doesn't hate you, she loves you so very much, don't you ever doubt that hunny. You also didn't break our family, I don't want to hear you saying that again."

"But—."

"No, you're the child here baby, you did not cause this. It was mama that messed up." Natasha firmly replies after taking a steadying breath, because admitting it out loud really hurt, but seeing her daughter riddled with guilt was somehow more painful.

"No, mama you didn't." Lily replies in a panic.

"Honey, I don't like saying it, but it's true. Mama made some really stupid choices, and now Mommy is just taking a little breather."

"What did you do?"

"I also wasn't very nice to mommy, I said some really mean things to her, and always ran away. Mommy did nothing wrong, but I still made her —."

Natasha pauses, decisively she reroutes the conversation, not really wanting to unload such heaviness onto the already fragile young girl in her arms.

"Honey, why were you mean to mommy, hm?"

"I thought when mommy yelled at you she was why you kept leaving, and that just made me so mad. You were always gone mama, and I just missed you so much... Yelling just made me feel so much better, but I know it didn't make mommy feel good, she cried a lot..."

"Me neither pumpkin, I do think it made her really sad, but she's smart—she knows you love her, I promise."

"Can you tell her sorry for me please? Maybe then she'll come home... I miss her, she's a good mommy... She also knows how to cook." She quietly asks over a yawn, her mother's light laughter and warm body lulling her into a much needed nap.

Your daughters confessions really weighs heavy on the former assassin, while barely being around she'd still managed to pass her anger issues off onto your daughter. Forcing her into such heavy feelings at such a young age; she'd always vowed to protect her family, but she knows now that she did the opposite here...

Failures never really been an option for her, and after talking things over with the innocent child she's aware that she'll need to work through a lot if she's ever going to fix this, which is the only option she's prepared for. She'd gone to text you for your daughter's sake, but then she decided that would be too cheap.

She'll call you later, hopefully you'll answer...

Little did she know you were currently stood behind the house, Maria headed towards the front door to enact her portion of the plan. Because had she known the house would be clean, and she would've showered as well.

Lily's quick to jolt up at the sound of the door, scrambling to her feet she runs over in the hopes that it's Lila, or Coop on the other side.

"AUNTIE MARIA!!" She shrieks, pleasantly surprised by her presence she all but jumps into her arms, then in a curious manner she looks over her shoulder hoping to see you.

"Hello there my favorite niece." She teasingly greets the young girl, eyes naturally taking in the mess of a woman on the couch before finally addressing her.

"Hey Nat, sorry for just dropping in, but would it be okay if Carol and I took the kids out for the day? Promise they'll be back by sunset."

"Of course. Let me just go get Mason up and dressed, then you'll be good to go."

"Ooh, can we go to the zoo? Oh, and maybe get ice cream?"

Natasha strides off towards your son's room, shoulders sagging as soon as Maria's no longer visible. For a brief moment her head falls against his door, a lone tear falls as she works to pull herself together just enough to send the kids off for their day of fun, and for her day of drinking to just start a bit earlier.

"Hey Mace, baby boy it's time to get up..." She coos, lightly shaking him awake, and just like clockwork he calls out for you, as he does every single morning.

"Mommy?!"

"No baby, it's just mama." She sighs in defeat, then lifts his body out of the dinosaur themed toddler bed to dress him.

She can't blame him, she misses you just the same, but it still stings for her to feel like she's not enough for him. It's her own fault, she's never been a consistent enough figure in his short life, and now he's only been left with her.

"Come on buddy, your auntie is here."

His face instantly lights up, and her heart breaks at the sight, knowing that he's bonded with his aunt in a way he still hasn't with her just hurts beyond measure.

"Auntie Riri?"

Natasha nods, then his hand drops from hers and he runs down the stairs to get to see for himself.

"No running down the stairs!" She shrieks, fear overcoming her at the possibility of him falling, but as she catches up to him all it did was make him hesitant to be near her.

Mason's not really used to yelling, he's always been a sensitive little one. Lily was a relatively quiet baby, her cries instantly soothed upon having her needs met. Mason was the opposite, crying regularly for more than the basic needs. Lily had been, and still is pretty independent, but Mason's always needed that extra bit of affection, and to accommodate him you'd taken the 'no need to shout' approach at parenting. Finding it for more beneficial in the long run anyways, as shouting was borderline barbaric, and emotionally harmful to any child.

"I'm sorry, mama just didn't want you to get hurt... Can I have a hug goodbye?"

He shook his head 'no' while hiding behind Maria's leg, but after he saw Lily hugging her he hesitantly made his way over too. Natasha heavily sighed at the contact grateful for even the most minor progress, then she placed a tender kiss to his temple before sending them both off with an 'I love you.'

Once they were out the door, and she heard the car had taken off she gasped as the immense, overwhelming sadness bubbled over into irrational rage, a framed family photo caught in the crossfire as she threw it against the wall. Crumbling to her knees at the same time the glass shattered across the floor, left to regret her actions the moment she had observed the scene before her.

Brushing the glass away she pulled the image into her trembling chest; it was a perfect photo.

Natasha and you had taken Lily to the secluded park up the road which was really just a tire swing, and a rickety metal slide. There you stood with a much younger Lily, her tiny arms wrapped around your throat, hanging off your back as tiny legs tried to wrap around your protruding belly—the left succeeded but the right was dangling. While you were fighting for your life Natasha had managed to run into the timed photo grabbing her leg, pushing her up and relieving the pressure upon your larynx. The photo captured as you took in an exaggerated breath, Lily's body towering above yours with a smirk to rival Natasha's, and Nat's other hand was on your stomach while her face was contorted fearfully. What a memory...

"That was a good day, one of our last ones actually." You suddenly said from behind her, causing Natasha to scramble to face you.

The sight of your normally put-together, fiercely strong wife stood before you as nothing but a shell of herself hurt you far more than you cared to admit. No matter how much damage or pain she inflicted upon the family you didn't necessarily intend for this response. Karma doesn't always do the job it's meant to, here it seems to have only broken her further.

"You're-you're really here..."

Natasha scuffled across the floor in a rush, paying no mind to the glass that's scratching up her exposed knees as her body's only goal is to reach you—to feel you.

"Yes, I think it's about time we talk..." You reply with an accompanying groan as her tear filled face slams against the fabric of your shirt, and your hand falls atop her head in a comforting way.

"Natasha... Get up..."

With all her strength she wills herself to let you go, then slowly she makes her way over to the couch where she sits with her bloodied knees pulled tightly into her chest.

Taking the moment to really observe her you see the distant look in her eye, and the olive complexion she once had has faded as if the sun just wasn't around anymore. It's more apparent than ever how much she truly needs some help. Three years of mostly being alone didn't do this to you, and she's only been here two months. Granted she didn't leave you fearing a divorce, but still, this is beyond a simple talk between two broken lovers.

With a familiar ease you had moved around the house, collecting the first aid kit and throwing the trash away as it littered the whole kitchen counters all while waiting on the tea kettle. Settling the mugs on the table you moved to sit beside Natasha, cautiously reaching out, but stopping once her hand wraps around your wrist.

"Leave it." She rasps, but you shake her hold and dab the gauze with antiseptic on the cuts.

"Natasha, I'm not going to leave you cut up."

"You left me..." Her words are merely a whisper, you continued to just work on her knees until you pulled your thoughts together.

The cuts were superficial, so after you slathered some ointment over them you left them uncovered then pulled back to finally acknowledge her heartbreak.

"Yes, I did do that, but I'm back now so that we can talk this out."

"I wanted to talk that night..."

"Natasha, this isn't going to work if we lie. You didn't try to talk, you tried to fuck me into submission, and it nearly worked—once again, but much like you I couldn't do this anymore. Going back to the way things were isn't an option for me."

"Detka, I promise we won't go back, but please don't leave again, I-I can't do this alone."

"Tasha, I'm back, but I'm not back as you want. I'm here to be a support system, to coparent our beautiful babies, and to make sure the house never looks like this again. I'll be staying in the guest room for now until we—."

"No-no... I don't want a fucking divorce, I want you Y/N/N, I want us—our family..." Natasha shouts while jumping to her feet and blocking you from leaving the couch.

"Then it's good we're on the same page then, because I want all of that too, desperately so. You have to stop interrupting me, stop jumping to conclusions, and stop making decisions for us. I don't see this marriage working if we just jump right back into it."

"Why can't we just be us now? I have ten months left of my time off, we can travel with the kids, we can be happy, I want to be happy."

"Being happy starts with you Nat, whatever it is you're holding onto you need to let it all go. You need to seek outside help, you're so angry, but deep down I know you're drowning in sorrow, and burying yourself in us clearly stopped working for you a long time ago."

"That's easy enough for you to say, how do I just let it all go? All that I've lived through, that I've done to others, I'm just meant to let it go?"

"Yeah, you need to let it fucking go, because the longer you hold on, the more you're going to continue to lose. I've never been a fan of ultimatums, but fuck, Natasha this is mine!"

"What are you saying?"

"You need to get help, or this won't work, and then divorce would be our only option. Our kids deserve two happy parents, I refuse to be to my children what my parents were to me. Maria and I survived by the skin of our teeth, and I'll be damned if Lily and Mason are made to do the same. We have a chance here to give our kids what we never had and we're fucking it up Natasha. Mason deserves to know his other mother, and Lily shouldn't have to hate me to love you."

Natasha's taken aback by your words, looking deeply into your eyes she sees this is truly it. Either she gets the "help", or you're gone for good, and two months without you was enough for her to never want that again, so she nods. Then taking tentative steps she moves forward until she straddles your lap, and buries her face into the crook of your neck.

"Natasha..."

"Please...? Just hold me, please..."

Your arms wrap around her waist, allowing her this moment of comfort, because in the end she's still your wife, and she's not a horrible person, she's the furthest thing from that.

"I promise to fix this Y/N/N... I can't lose you, I won't survive it."

"I know you will Tasha, and I promise to be here every step of the way, now get some rest."

You pulled the blanket from off the top of the couch to place over her, turning the TV on low to watch a random comedy rerun while you simultaneously soothed the body atop of yours until it fell slack. Then after she was in a deep sleep you placed a lingering kiss to her forehead before gently slipping her onto the couch and moving to clean up the disaster that is your shared home before getting started on dinner.

—

Maria came back three hours later with a sleeping toddler and an exhausted little girl. With her spare key she unlocked the door, and as soon as the smell of borscht hit Lily's nose her whole body perked up, dropping her aunts hand in favor of running into the kitchen.

"Mommy you're back!" She shouts excitedly, but you're quick to shush her while also dropping to your knees to fully embrace her.

Once you've got her in your arms you stand once more, stirring the soup when you feel her body start to tremble in your hold.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

You tried to set her down but her hold became unbearably tight and you realized she was indeed scared

"Put him with Nat, and stir the soup please. There's bowls for all of us." You instructed your older sister, ignoring the playful muttering of 'bossy' she throws your way as you make your way upstairs.

Once the both of you came back downstairs Natasha already had Mason in his seat, and was helping Maria to set the table. Maria noticed you first, sending up a sympathetic smile when your eyes instantly fell to the to go containers in her hand.

"Duty calls." She jests with the tupperware lifted in the air and arms wide open to say goodbye.

You'd walked around the corner, and while hugging her goodbye Mason began to squirm in his seat so you cut the embrace short and moved to pick him up, and for the third time today someone was clinging to you like a koala.

That night you went to sleep in the guest room with Mason already clinging to you, and by the time the clock struck one your bed was full. Though it wasn't part of your plan, you knew it would be an adjustment, so for the time being you let it be, and if you were being honest with yourself really it wasn't that hard to do.

——

Natasha was really starting to wonder if divorce was that bad as she sat in the waiting room to meet her therapist, the one designated for the Avengers, and all their extended members.

She's lived a whole life without you, she could easily do it... right?

"Natasha Romanoff? Miss Montague will see you now."

Natasha took a moment to collect herself, wringing her hands out a few times before switching a flip and confidently walking through the doors as the perplexed receptionist stood in wait.

Natasha entered the woman's office and the sight of the tidy, almost clinical environment had her stomach turning with uneasiness. Regardless of her feelings though she sat down, and for her entire session just sat there staring the woman down, the psychologist's gaze never wavering as she left the floor open to her.

"Well, Mrs. Romanoff that was a great first session, I'll see you again next week at the same time, thank you for coming in."

Natasha scoffs as she's practically shoved out of the office, but for some reason she can't fight the fact that she feels microscopically better.

—

The next session's a bit more involved as she introduces "herself" to the woman, barely scratching the surface when she mutters out:

"I'm Natasha, and I'm here to fix my marriage with Y/N, and then hopefully we'll be a happy family again."

Natasha felt incredibly brave for having even mentioned the problem at hand, but Miss Montague felt differently, as she chuckled inappropriately in response while closing her notebook and leaning onto her elbows that were flat on the desk separating them to hold her stare as she spoke.

"That might be your goal Natasha, but that's not why you're here, so how about we try to get passed this game of surface level deflection here and you can tell me exactly what I need to hear to get you to where your wife and kids need you to be, and where you deserve to be."

Natasha abruptly stood at the women's words, followed shortly by the slamming of her doors, and when she was about halfway home on her bike she pulled off onto the barren exit and burst into tears. Thirty minutes later she was back in the office, and angrier than ever.

"Listen, this is all so fucking pointless! Y/N deserves better than me, she always has. I'm nothing more than a trained killer, these hands were designed to inflict pain, not to show love. I was selfish, I wanted something I was never meant to have, and now they're suffering because I can't live up to it. My son won't even look at me now that Y/N's back home, and my daughter is still so angry because I taught her to be nothing more than that. Y/N's trying to fix me, but I don't think that's possible, why can't she fucking see that? She wants me to let go, but it would be so much easier if she was to do it instead, she should just let me go..."

"Well that's just not true Mrs. Romanoff, I'm sat here before you and I see so much more than what you are saying. You are a wife, and a mother, and just because you obviously feel undeserving doesn't change the fact that you've made these decisions that led to where you are. We also both know you wouldn't even be here if you wanted her to leave you. Something I'd said clearly upset you, and you're just trying to protect yourself. Self preservation can be just as detrimental as it can be beneficial."

Natasha's anger was slowly fading to sadness, feet moving of their own accord to have her sitting down before her therapist once more, her cracked heart somewhat ready to listen to reason.

"Here's what I'm going to offer you from this moment forward. You'll be honest, completely, because I'm here to help you out—not judge, and there's nothing you'll say that will scare me off either. I'm the Avengers shrink for Christ sake, none of you got here because you had normal upbringings. Honesty is the only way we get you healed Natasha, so if you're down to try, I'm here to help. If you're not then I fear you'll lose everything, and as much as you try to hide from me I can see the fear in your eyes at that very prospect. I'm not in the business of sugar coating—you won't survive this loss."

—

The next few sessions work much the same, Natasha tells partial truths, gets called out, and then after a moment of anger she reveals more of herself to the shrink, and little by little you begin to take notice of her at home.

The new effort she is putting forth is obvious, and you can easily tell it's organic and not some temporary forced fix to convince you. Without overstepping, or halting her progress you make a conscious effort to give her more. Subtle initiations of physical contact, late night walks as a family, and family movie nights with the Barton's where you sit beside her and allow your fingers to brush. Natasha appreciates the intimacy, but she'd be lying to say she doesn't want more, feeling like she's flirting with the idea of dating her wife is just strange to her.

—

"So, Natasha, it's been two months, and as great as this is going we've already reached a sort of plateau, I know somethings holding us back. How are things with Mason? Let's talk about him and what is it that changed be—."

"You know, Lily did this adorable thing when she was a baby. She'd purse her little lips, and just blow these little spit bubbles, Y/N thought it was so gross, but it was honestly really cute."

"Natasha, we're talking about Mason here."

"There's nothing to say, he's my son, but clearly I'm not his mama..." She snaps, a certain edge to her voice that shows she's uncomfortable, but is that not what therapy's meant for...?

"He's three, and you weren't exactly there, if I remember correctly you missed his last birthday."

"I was on a mission..." She weakly defends, but from previous sessions they both know it was an avoidable one.

"Doesn't change the fact that he has a right to be hesitant of you, but you however have no right to give up on him, so let's go through the days leading up to his birth. There has to be something we're missing here, or better yet something you're holding onto and refusing to let go."

"Everything was fine."

"Natasha, stop deflecting."

"No, it was, Y/N was so cuddly and needy just like when she was pregnant with Lily, it was perfect. Then she gave birth, and when we got home he just wouldn't stop crying, and I-I..."

Natasha can't exactly fight the tears as she is violently thrown into an unfavorable memory from her past, one that she'd suppressed with a bottle of vodka within the same night—perks of being the top widow at the time.

•~~~~~•~~~~~•—•~~~~~•~~~~~•

"Natalia, these are the targets, leave nothing behind. Are we clear?"

"Yes madam." Natasha monotonously responds, politely grabbing the file out of her hand then she's making her way to the weapons room to gather her collection.

She'd taken two trains and a bus, completely undetected, and she's just as efficient when she climbs into the German Townhouse to wait for her targets to return home. The file, as usual, proclaims these individuals to be traitors of the highest degree and she knows better than to ask for clarification. Harsh training had left her void of the will to ask, but it never left her without a deep pain in her chest.

She was observant as can be, the room she climbed into told her that she'd been sent to kill someone's parents, but the file didn't. Natasha was trained to kill, it was an effortless swan's dance at this point, but killing children was a hard concept for her, she'd never been made to kill one before, and she's not entirely sure she had it in her.

The sound of a door clicking announced to her of their return, she shook the fear from her heart and made her way through the halls. The parents knew immediately that this was it, the cold breeze in their house enough of a warning, but they knew better than to run. Instead they shoved their four year old into the specialty designed closet, texted a friend for his safe retrieval, then sat on the couch.

Natasha rounded the corner to see them, their pensive expression telling her that they're ready, so she makes it a quick process for them. Two silenced gunshots, one between his eyes, the other right through her chest, then she goes to head for the closet; mind on autopilot as she wills her body to kill the innocent child, after already killing the most likely just as innocent parents.

"Bitte tu ihm nichts, sie wissen nichts von ihm, lass ihn gehen. Er ist ein guter Junge"

(Please dont hurt him, they don't know about him, let him go. he's a good boy.)

Natasha hesitates with her hand over the closet doorknob, she could just go, her mission for all they know is completed, but she had express instructions to leave nothing behind, and nothing includes witnesses, but he had yet to see her face.

"Das verspreche ich." The dying mother pulls her from her internal debate as she pleads once more for her sons life.

(I promise)

Natasha sees the look in her eyes, the honesty jumping out as the life itself drains from them, and Natasha decides in the moment it is best to leave him be, so she wipes the gun to place in the husbands hands, then she disappears into the shadows.

"Mama.. Mama wake up.." He cries over the limp body, her green eyes notice his desperate pair of blue from the shadows she hides in.

His tears never stop, heartbreaking sobs continue to leave him as he lays his head over his mothers chest, her stilled heart beneath his ears. Her own guarded heart shattering as she watches the innocence slowly leaves him, the same way she'd watched it leave Yelena's, all the while ignoring the little girl that she once was. She finally leaves the scene after the boy's received safe passage, but his cries for his mama never once leave her mind, deeply etched into her heart, left there to remind her every day that she is the monster they set out to make her.

•~~~~~•~~~~~•—•~~~~~•~~~~~•

"Natasha, that wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was, why can't you see that?"

The shrink stops herself from interjecting, seeing this as a potential breaking point for the former assassin as she'd yet to tremble like this before.

"What's worse is that was my last mission before my deflection, the same one that left me to murder a little girl in the name of freedom. Couldn't kill him, but for an end to my own suffering I could kill her, and it turns out I didn't even do that right; I just disfigured her and left her and my little sister Yelena behind to fend for themselves against that vile man—I'm no better than he is, can't you see?"

Miss Montague takes cautious steps to kneel before Natasha who's sat on the couch, taking her hands into her own for the obvious needed comfort, and Natasha's teary eyes lift to meet her softened brown ones.

"How can I hold my crying baby, and try to soothe him and allow him to find comfort in calling me mama when that little boy never got to do the same?"

"Natasha, you didn't have any say in the matter, and when given the choice you actively spared him. Nothing you did is something that I can forgive you for, and it seems to me you're unwilling to forgive yourself. You have to stop torturing yourself for the things you were forced to do, you need to then seek forgiveness, and maybe then you can forgive yourself too."

"What? Am I just meant to find him and say 'Sorry for killing your parents?'" Natasha snaps at her shrink for what's probably the millionth time, but Montague isn't phased.

"No, that's too literal, and a bit morbid. Seek it out where you can actually get it."

"Please, stop speaking in riddles for once!!" She groans, hands yanked back to run down her face in frustration.

"Yelena—start there, you've made amends, but now go and say sorry again like you mean it. Next apologize to Y/N, share with her what you can, then say you're sorry for the last three years you couldn't be who she needed you to be. Then finally, look Mason in his eyes, and force yourself to feel the love he has for you. When Y/N left he trusted you enough to care for him, and when given no choice you were able to do it; it's honestly likely his hesitation is spurred on by your own to let him love you."

Natasha nods in sudden understanding, frantically jumping to her feet she bids her goodbye with the promise of seeing her next week, because they're far from done here. Leaving to race off to Yelena's, a pitstop for booze a necessity before she's then pounding on her sister's door.

"Natasha, what are you doing here? Did something happen to Y/N? The kids?"

"I'm sorry."

Yelena, though confused, closes the door as her frantic—seemingly unhinged—sister brushes past her to sit on the couch and pops open two entire bottles of vodka.

"Natasha, what are you—?"

"Sidet!"

Yelena sits, not entirely sure why she's taking orders from her sister in her own house but alas she does it, gratefully accepting the bottle of booze in temporary lieu of an explanation.

Natasha and Yelena drink silently for an hour before the redhead bleeds her heart out to her little sister, to which Yelena embraces her wholeheartedly, and repeatedly reassures her that she's more than forgiven. Truly, both of them needed this moment of brutal unpacking. Yelena feels far less alone in hearing her sister's struggles when compared to her very own, and Natasha never realized how much she needed the forgiveness of her mladshaya sestra until she genuinely had it.

"Natalia, I forgive you, and I love you so much..."

——

Natasha's appointment had been at 2PM, and seeing as how she missed the family movie night you were feeling a whole hell of a lot when she still hadn't shown at 10PM. An all too familiar pain reemerging in your chest as you start to think that all the progress had been an elaborate ruse, that your marriage was over.

The wine clouded your mind, and the tears readily fell as you began to come to terms with the end of all you'd ever wanted. Sounds, and visuals around you blurred, leaving you to miss the jingling keys, and the fast approaching steps, all that brings you out of it is the feel of rough hands holding your face.

"Detka, what's wrong?"

Her voice—deep, sexy, full of love and concern, but mostly infuriating.

"Don't touch me."

Natasha ignores you, quickly lifting your body up and carrying you out to the porch to avoid waking the kids.

"I thought you were getting better, but it appears to me it was a short lived fantasy." You seethe as soon as she settles you down.

"Detka..."

"No, I'll have all your stuff packed by tomorrow night, you can stay at the Barton's."

Natasha's hands firmly grip you by the shoulders, guiding your body into the pillar before she shouts in your face.

"I'm sorry!"

Natasha and apologies don't usually happen often, so your mouth shuts and your eyes widen, opening the floor for her to elaborate.

"We had a breakthrough today..."

Her trembling lip, and disheveled features finally catch in your visual, so without a second thought you pull her into your embrace and settle the both of you down in the swinging chair, hand over her own to comfort her.

"I went to see Lena, and we had a breakthrough of our own actually..."

Her fingers play with the rings on your fingers, head adjusting on your shoulder so that she could peer up at you when she spoke next.

"... I've done bad things Y/N/N, and I'm scared that if I tell you exactly what I've done you'll run, and that'll hurt me so much worse than you leaving because I pushed you to do it."

"Have a little more faith in me Nat, I didn't exactly enter this relationship lightly, nor did I bring children into the world with you without thinking it through. I know enough about your past to know you've been made to do some horrific things but that's neither her nor there. Your past changes nothing for me, because above all else I know your heart, and it's gold... After the last three years I wouldn't still be fighting for us if I didn't know that my Natty is still in there deep down."

Natasha sobs against your chest, but unlike the last few times it's obvious to you this isn't a pity party, or some ploy to get you to give in; this is raw, unadulterated pain and you can tell that much by the way her body violently shakes and how she has to work overtime just to breathe air into her lungs, her heaving chest without reprieve causes a panic to settle deep within your body.

Terrified you do just about everything you can to calm her down, but the only thing that ends up working is the shock of your lips firmly pressed to hers. Once she catches up she's desperately trying to kiss you back, hands linking around your neck to keep you planted there, and for just a moment you give into the euphoric feeling of having your wife's body flush against your own, arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

"Tasha, honey... Let's focus here..."

"I'm so sorry Y/N, I never meant to hurt you this badly, I was just so scared..."

"I get that honey, but what exactly happened?"

"Mason... He—."

Your heart twinges in anger at the mention of your beautiful son's name, but you hold back, allowing her the chance to explain before you prematurely lose it on her.

"He triggered something in me, I'd buried it for so long that I'd began to live my life like it never even happened, and that just makes it so much worse because I didn't deserve to forget. I deserved to feel miserable for what I did."

"Did you have a choice?"

"I don't know, it was my hands was it not?"

"Tasha, just tell me what you need to, help me to understand. I want to forgive you, and most of me already has, but you need to work with me. You can't just say Mason's the problem, then not tell me why, that's our son in there."

"That's not what I said, I said he triggered me, he's not the problem, he never was, I am." She huffs angrily, all her previous sadness from the painful memories crashing down on her again.

"None of that either Tasha, you're not the problem, you're just dealing with them. What do you need from me? A promise? I promise that I love you, and no matter what you say I still will."

"I-I love you too..." She quietly whispers as she takes a steadying breathe before sitting up straighter to finally open her heart to you in every way that she always should've.

Natasha candidly speaks, and you quietly listen while using your legs to get the chair to swing. Watching the pain swirling beneath her eyes and using your touch to soothe her as best you could, but your heart was absolutely breaking for the uncharacteristically fragile woman. Her words eventually died off once her twisted tales came to an end, she just resided in your lap, sniffling every once in awhile as she came down from her heightened storytelling and you got your thoughts together.

"Oh honey, my beautiful, sweet angel, none of that was your fault, and you shouldn't have to carry the burden of it either. You won't want to hear this but you were just as innocent as he was, you were just doing what you had to to survive, and the fact that you hesitated told me that boy was always safe with you. These hands of yours are built to love, and have been used to do so countless times, and I know they'll continue to do so as we navigate through this life together." You reason, your right hand rising, thumb slowly tracing over her features while wiping away at her tears, and pulling her lip from between her teeth before dropping to lift her hand up, and slowly linking your hands to provide emphasis to your words.

"I mean, look at you now. Everything they said you couldn't be you became it anyways in spite of them, you became a mother, you're my wife, and fuck Nat, you're even a superhero. So many little kids look up to you; for all the lives that you've been made to take you've made up for it tenfold with the one's you've saved." You reply, an obvious air of anger to your tone as you passionately do so, only really softening at the subtle flinching of her features.

"That little boy, as tragic as his story was is most likely doing just fine Nat. Children are so incredibly resilient, and he was so young that his brain most likely shielded him as he aged. The only ones to blame here are the redroom—Dreykov or Madam, shit—even his parents. They brought him into the world knowing the enemies they made, and instead of protecting him they left him open to a world of hurt. A parents love for their child is supposed to be strong enough to put them first, and they failed to do that, they were selfish and held onto him until their dying breath, and nearly cost him his own life."

Natasha's face twists as your hopeful words hit, she'd never imagined him as doing anything other than suffering, so to imagine he somehow overcame it and is thriving is a nice perspective, and she knows you're more than likely right.

"Forgive yourself for not being able to undo all the pain you've caused so that you can finally be free Natalia; Forgive yourself for not being the person we all needed you to be; Forgive your inner child for the life she never got to live, and learn to heal her through our kids; Forgive yourself so that we can love you fully, because that's all we all want to do."

Natasha's body began to tremble once again as your words permeated deep into her psyche, but then a soft sniffle from the left caught both of your attentions, the assassins head lifting and her bleary eyes settling on the petrified young boy. Stood there with a thumb in his mouth, a blanket and teddy clutched to his chest, and eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Mama, please no cry..." He himself sobbed, tiny empathetic body rushing to climb onto the swing, struggling as he does.

He forcefully squeezed into the space between the both of you, laying his blanket over his legs and delicately placing his teddy into her arms while twisting and throwing his tiny arms tightly around her neck and burying himself against her. Natasha's right arm stays behind your back, but her left desperately clings to his body, and once her eyes meet your adoring ones the dam breaks wide open, tears never stopping no matter how hard he pleaded with her through his own sobs to stop, both only ever ceasing to do so when the both of them fell asleep on your lap.

"Hey there, need some help?"

Your gaze slowly travels from the peaceful faces sat upon you over to Clint, and he sends you an easy smile.

"How'd you find us?" You tease the former spy, and he quirks his brow at you playfully before gesturing to the brunette who was stood in watch upon the porch next door.

He's quick to approach with buff arms at the ready to free you from your pretty comfortable confinement. He follows behind you with the mother son duo still fast asleep against his chest, and you open the door to your shared room for him to settle them down in the bed.

"You going to sleep in there with them tonight?" He quietly asks you as he leaves the door open just a crack, and judging by the inflection in his voice he's clearly aware of your sleeping schedule as of late.

"Mhm, I'm just going to get her some Tylenol, and water for the headache she's likely to have come morning, thanks for your help Clint." You politely reply, avoiding his attempt to snoop for his wife—the sneaky little minx she is, then you wish him a goodnight while locking the doors.

Shutting down the house you happily throw back the remainder of your wine glass before making your way to bed, nearly going into the guest on instinct before redirecting your feet. Upon entering the room you see Natasha had shifted to her back, and Mason was completely on top of her, then you noticed the slightly older child had found residence in your spot, so you gently shifted her slumped form over to crawl into the bed.

"Fuck... We're never almost divorcing again." You quietly groaned at the feel of the tempur-pedic mattress beneath your aching back.

"Please, can we not? The couch really sucks..." Natasha whispers back, and you peep open one eye to see her staring at you while her hand soothing runs down Mason's spine.

Both of you share a bittersweet chuckle, locked eyes conveying all the rest of the unspoken words, and though there's still a lot of work to do, you're more than content knowing that your Natasha's the one laying beside you.

——(Bonus)

"I go with mama!" Mason shrieks as you hold his wiggling form while waiting in the insanely long line for Dumbo, Lily stood beside you with a 'not this ride' face, and you feel rather giddy at the thought of having tricked her into thinking that 'Its A Small World' is the best ride yet, and that's what's up next.

"Yes, you will go with mama!" Natasha beams, with a proud smile when she looks to you, lightly pecking your lips while seamlessly passing the churro over to your hand in exchange for the toddler.

"Thank you honey." You cheer, followed by a moan as the flavors melt onto your tongue, and after only two bites in peace you reluctantly give all present parties a bite, to then losing the treat all together as Mason bats his eyes at you.

"You're welcome." She giggles, then your group is suddenly ushered into the fast pass lane when Natasha's recognized by a worker.

"Perks of being a superhero." You muse with a wink thrown her way as you lift Lily up and into the elephant.

After the initial jolt into the air you admit that flying through the sky is nice, your heart also soaring at the sight of your reluctant daughters subtle quirked lips, desperately trying to hide her satisfaction with the ride, and also at the way your wife and son are happily flying in front of you. Natasha's smile never once falls as he happily dances in the seat beside her, finger nonstop pointing out all the magical sights that Disneyland has to offer.

"Mommy..."

"Yes Lil?"

"I love you..."

"I love you too angel." You coo, placing a kiss to her forehead as the ride settles, along with all the residual tension this year had to bring.

Meeting your wife at the exit with a tired six year old on your hip you find she has the much more energetic three year old sat upon hers, naturally the both of you link your free hands and set off in search of your next big adventure.

—————————————————————

10,135 Words — Jesus this was definitely a lot.

Sorry if it hurts more than you expected, happy for you if it didn't hurt at all, either way enjoy.

—————————————————————

603 notes · View notes

gar6agef1r3 · 2 years

Text

𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Love is only so strong. While you loved Elvis deeply the temptations of his lifestyle always was the impending doom of the two of you. Soon you were nothing but a trophy.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Austin!Elvis x fem!reader

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬/𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: I’m really sad so here’s a sad litte blurb of leaving Elvis. Yanking at my own heart strings right now I needed a damn good cry while writing this.

Squeezing his legs tightly against his chest Elvis sobbed. Your voice still lingered in his head, that gentle touch of yours holding onto him. Yet alone he sat on the bottom step hearing your car drive away. Had he just let the very thing that held him together slip through his fingers?

You and Elvis had been married for over three years. The two of you were so close at the beginning, but with any famous relationship, yours began to falter. At first, it was just the occasional flirting with another woman, or a kiss on the cheek. Though as time past Elvis would sneak women into your home at night or separate hotel rooms when on tour. For a long time you believed that as long as he was still yours, you would give him up physically. Time persisted and soon Elvis got distant, more so than ever before.

You spent most nights alone, refusing to go on tour with him anymore for how badly it hurt. When he would return to Graceland the man would spend most of the time in his bedroom sleeping. On the rare occasion that he did make an appearance while you were up, he wouldn’t spend much longer than a couple of minutes with you, holding you or giving you a soft kiss and whispering empty words to you. On multiple occasions, you had tried to leave. Yet somehow he would always convince you to stay.

Not this time. Walking down the stairs quickly with bags in your hands Elvis stumbled quickly behind you. “Y/N, please baby. Where are you goin’?” his voice was heavy with remorse and sorrow. You paused at the front door, gripping the handles of your bags tightly. “Please…” the man squeaked out behind you stopping on the steps. You squeezed your eyes shut inhaling sharply. He knew how to work you, he knew how to say certain things to get what he wanted. How badly your heart ached as tears began to spill down your cheeks.

Setting the bags down hesitantly you turned to face him. His eyebrows were knit tightly together as his deep blue eyes were glazed over with threatening tears. He was shaking slightly, his body covered in a bathrobe and his hair a mess. The man who stood before you was the Elvis you knew when you first met him. A scared man with so much love to give, tarnished by the lifestyle he pursued. His arms reached out to you beckoning you in. Giving in for a moment you walked to him, slinking your arms around his silken waist you hugged him tightly. Protective he held you tight nuzzling his face against the nape of your neck.

Your arm reached up to stroke his hair as he crumpled into you, sinking to the steps. “Oh Y/N, what have I done…” his voice cracked at the end causing your chest to tighten. Shaking your head you rested your chin against his shoulder. “What have you done, Elvis.” you put simply. It was his turn to know how badly he hurt you. After all this time biting back the anger and resentment you held, it was now time for him to relish in it.

Pulling back his eyes got wide, tears staining his cheeks as they fell. He knew right then that he had lost you. You saw it click in his eyes as if his whole world split apart and swallowed him. Gingerly you reached up to hold his face wiping the tears away as some of your own started to spill. His hands gripped your waist holding you tightly knowing you would fly away at any moment. Putting on a pained smile you looked over his face, your heart aching. “I can’t keep watching you kill yourself. I can’t keep being a shadow, like a dusty old award sitting on a shelf waiting for the day you might stop by to admire it. I loved you, Elvis. I always will. But I won’t do it anymore.” your words were shaking as you told him all the things you’ve kept from him for so long.

“I-I love you, Y/N. There’s never been another I’ve ever loved like you. I can’t do this without you…. I-I can’t…. I… can’t.” Elvis pressed his face against your chest as he started to sob. Choking back your tears you pulled away from him walking down the final two steps. His hand caught you holding you there slightly. Your eyes dared to look at his shattered figure as he gripped your fingers with all the passion he could. You smiled weakly at him nodding as an indicate to let go. Resentfully you felt his grip loosen as you gently pulled you hand away.

Quickly moving to your bags once more, you scooped them up and without another word you slipped out the front door. A part of you felt free, finally unshackled from this lonely life. Yet the other part of you yearned to be with him still back when you first met. Getting into your car you hesitated, looking over at the front door again picturing the man behind it his sad look engraved into your mind. Biting your bottom lip you started the car and wiped a few tears from your face before driving off.

#elvis fic #elvis x reader #austin butler elvis #elvis movie #elvis presley #elvis 2022 #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler fic #austin butler fanfiction

362 notes · View notes

echo-of-sounds · 3 years

Text

don’t go to bed angry

Small drabbles of you making up with Aizawa, Toshinori, and Hizashi after a fight.

Aizawa Shouta

“Fucking leave then! It’s not like I need you!”

You hated how the situation ended. You hated how you handled it. A conversation. It was supposed to be a conversation, never a disagreement nor a spat nor an argument. Cursing and crying should not have happened- it should never happen, whatever the circumstances. And those words certainly shouldn’t have come from your mouth.

Hearing footsteps, you rolled over. The wall illuminated when the door opened, flashing Shouta’s silhouette across it. Clothing dropped. His belt landed with a solid thunk. The bed dipped, bearing his warmth and quiet breathing.

You wished they would comfort you like usual. His body heat lulled you to sleep. His mellow moving chest calmed yours. Now they just felt distant.

A heavy sigh lifted the silence. He asked in a low voice, “You awake?”

Most of you didn’t want to answer. You could drift asleep, forget about the cussing, and wake tomorrow morning, pretending nothing happened. But you forced yourself to reply, weakly, timidly, “Yeah.”

The blankets shifted. Warmth settled slightly closer, yet not enough to be comforting. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah… You?”

“Yeah.”

Silence stooped again. Air staled between you, dark and difficult. Breath swelled in your lungs, exhaling clunkily without your say-so, simultaneously sinking your heart and blurring your vision.

You spoke in sync, “I’m sorry.”

In the somber room, you faced his shape on the other side of the bed. “Shouta, I’m sorry. I never meant to start an argument, especially over something so stupid. And I didn’t mean any of what I said. I only said it because I was angry. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know. I’m sorry too.” Shouta’s hand found yours, distilling the remote feelings, attaching him back to you. “I shouldn’t have responded as I did. I had a long day and let my frustrations out on you.”

“I hate fighting with you,” you mumbled.

“Me too.” His fingers clasped tight.

That wordless connection was all you needed. You quickly closed the gap, slugging your chest against his. He huffed at the collision but still welcomed you in, chasing off the dim cold with his heat.

“I do need you, Shouta. Please, don’t ever think different.”

“Thank you.” He laid down, keeping you snuggly enveloped. A couple of kisses smoothed over your forehead. “I need you, too.”

Yagi Toshinori

“Enough! You’re not fucking helping me.”

You weren’t resentful at his abrupt anger or his curing. You were upset he was hiding from you. It was past midnight and the other side of the bed remained empty. Toshinori’s body wasn’t sweltering, but your body’s become accustomed, craving his feel to drift safely to sleep.

And he was sitting in the living room, physically and emotionally distant. He so scarcely let his temper take the reins. It dwelled and blistered and tore until it wept. The release came as sadness, self-hate. Your supporting words and actions meant nothing. You tried to offer consolation, seek out his fears, be a shoulder to cry on, but that made his emotions direct towards you, like a hurt animal standing on its last leg.

Throwing off the covers, you got up. Toshi was slumped over on the couch, holding his arm up awkwardly on the armrest. His wrist bent. His neck tilted to the side. It would no doubt give him sore muscles.

Whispering his name didn’t wake him. Gently nudging his knee didn’t either. You shook his shoulder, and he jerked awake in alarm. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Toshi. It’s okay. You fell asleep on the couch.”

He rolled his neck around, sitting up straight. A little sweat and flush strained his temples.

You sat beside him, stroking his arm. He shrugged off your touch. You asked, “Why don’t you come to bed? Sleeping here isn’t healthy.”

“No, no, honey. I’m fine here. You need the space.”

“No, I don’t. You needed the time and I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you. I know it’s difficult and me prying won’t help. I’m sorry I did.”

Toshi shook his head and faced more towards you, sighing your name. “Please, don’t apologize. I’m the one that swore at you. I know you’re just worried about me.”

“I am.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry.” Arms circled you, bringing you to his chest. The thin coating of water dripped from your eyes. He kissed your forehead and rubbed your back, softly mumbling, “I’m sorry I took my anger out on you. I’ll never do that again, I promise.”

You nodded, muttering, “Will you come to bed with me? I don’t want you out here. I want you next to me.”

“Of course, I will.”

Once you were both tucked in, you nuzzled back into his arms. They were long and kept you safe all night. His anger was already forgotten.

Yamada Hizashi

“Because you’re fucking annoying! Shut up for once!”

The idiotic, untrue, blurted words pickaxed your brain. You needed to apologize. Hizashi didn’t deserve the verbal wound no matter how rushed and overwhelmed you felt. His expression, upturned eyebrows, frightened eyes, and slowly closing mouth cut every piece of you. How he shuffled away from your wrath, feeling judged and abandoned by the one person who always loved his voice, his laughter, and his singing, tore you to tears, despite being the one who caused it.

You shuffled to the bedroom and, in case he was asleep, carefully nudged the door open. His figure laid on the bed, facing the opposite wall, on his stomach, breathing quietly, motionless.

One tiptoe inside and Hizashi jumped up, calling your name.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Please, don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything.” You sat on the edge of the bed.

The way he moved seemed insecure, reflecting how he felt. The doubts about his energy, the persona he created, always plagued the back of his mind, filling his head with cynicism towards his ‘real’ character. But he was real- all of him. Every joke, dance, and sound he produced was real and beautiful and none of it was annoying. It was him and he didn’t need to change any part of it.

“I am, honey. I’m sorry.” You searched for his hand in the dark. His fingers weaved with yours, long and slender.

“I don’t mean to be annoying or loud, you know that right? I hate bothering you.”

“I know. I know. You weren’t. I was just a little overwhelmed. I shouldn’t have yelled at you and I shouldn’t have called you annoying, because you’re not, Hizashi. I’m so sorry I said that.”

The outline of his head nodded. You wished you could see his face to wash away the last, horribly nervous one you saw.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“I love you so much. I love you so much.” You pulled him into a bear hug. A pleasing laugh caressed your ears. You kissed him, breathing into his mouth, “And I love your voice.”

“Oh, in that case, let me sing for you.” He whisked you down to the bed, starting to croon his favorite song.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #all might #all might x reader #yagi toshinori #toshinori x reader #present mic #present mic x reader #yamada hizashi #hizashi x reader #aizawa imagine #all might imagine #present mic imagine #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha imagines

1K notes · View notes

kokiseiko · 3 years

Text

Fleeting Touches and Unbreakable Bonds

Shouta Aizawa x Reader; Hizashi Yamada x Reader

Song Recommendation: All I Ask - Adele

(Y/N) – Your Name

(L/N) – Last Name

Word Count: 1.8k +

Fandom: My Hero Academia | Boku no Hero Academia

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x Pro-Hero!Reader; Hizashi Yamada x Pro-Hero!Reader

Rating: SFW

Warnings: Angst, Bittersweet

Summary: Is it possible to love someone so much that you can’t let go even after death?

Note: This is a special request made by my lovely fellow Aizawa simp: @nire-chann.

Thank you for beta-reading this for me Ate Selene @yourgoddessselene | @saudade-mayari

The events that had happened at the start of this fic are a few months after Aizawa became a teacher at UA.

A rush of sudden adrenaline that wracks your body, heart pounding, ears ringing, your entire system shaking with emotions you can’t even pinpoint. Walking towards the white-lined road of the city, the rays of the noon sun spilling all over the bent light posts, the once smooth grey cement on the sidewalks now cracked, malfunctioning traffic lights blinking and crackling, the aftermath: debris of the earlier commotion.

It was an explosion, a burst of dust-filled smoke that pained the eyes of individuals who unfortunately had it opened, then a sickening crash of building facades, window splinters raining throughout the area, injuring civilians from which you’ve catered immediately. Quickly healing wounds and giving directions for immediate evacuation.

You were Frantic. Desperate. Searching throughout the wreckage even when your quirk wasn’t for such. Continuing to move through the rubbles of building you spot the shine of the once yellow gear now cracked, broken into three, not far from it was a mass of black, crimson spilling underneath him, a shine of a bloodied band adorning his right hand.

You knew that it was near impossible even with your quirk to stabilize him, yet you continue, hands glowing in hues of emerald as you move his blood-soaked charcoal locks.

---

He feels lighter every passing second, but your presence grounds him. There’s so much more to say, to feel, to do. He sighs internally, he looks at you with such intent, he wants to let you know, to speak to you, but how can he, when his throat feels restricted. Even lifting his hand to touch your tear-stained cheeks to help ease the furrow in your brows had him use too much energy.

There was so much more, but having to look at you with all the emotions he could muster in his two light-grey orbs are what he could only communicate with. He can’t speak anymore, but he wants to at least taste your lips one last time.

To at least feel your heat and the cool contrast of your wet cheeks.

He’s barely noticing the tingle of nerves, that strange warm sensation he used to feel whenever you used to tend to his wounds, his injuries. His eyes wrinkle slightly when he remembers your pout during a rant a few days ago, your plump lips moving and going on about him being reckless.

He’s doing it again, but it has been too long since he had let himself fall through a never-ending well of questions, of replays, flashbacks, images, doubts, concerns. This may be the last time he’ll ever let himself tumble throughout the dark abyss of just him and his thoughts.

Was he content? He doesn’t know.

He just simply wants to remember your smile, your tears. You.

You were his anchor back then. Back when he was crumbling into a mess of a wanna-be hero who had his friend die during Hero-Work Studies.

You pulled him up when he was too tired to even recognize and register the warmth feeling in his chest that was being overpowered with guilt, regret, and frustration.

He never really accommodated these positive feelings, thinking that they would just be swept away with a whoosh of wind, only to return with a hard blow of hatred, anger, and pain.

He doesn’t want to experience that again, to go through that momentary shock and be hit with the sad consciousness of reality.

His throaty whisper was heard above the ringing in your ears: “Thank you…” for loving me, he wants to add, for being with me… I’ve loved you, tears cascading his cheeks

“I’m sorry…” for not acknowledging these wonderful feelings, for taking so long to let you know that, looking to your also wet cheeks, eyes pooling with tears from frustration? Sadness? Pain? Maybe a mix of three he guessed, “… I love you.”

He feels the gradual easing of his muscles all throughout his body. The blood rushing throughout his veins were subliminally slowing. The wet pelts of your tears dropping down his features would be a mere afterthought if he wasn’t focusing so much on you, but alas, his own mind was keeping him from doing so.

Even within his last seconds, his mind kept him prisoner.

His mind where everything was being played. His head spinning with the rapid successions of memories he subconsciously held dear. The majority of the replays containing you, your comforting touch when he needed an anchor, your soft kisses during those casual dates back in his favorite café, the hitch of your breath when you momentarily stopped the cute cooing noises you made whenever you petted the cats as you trailed your eyes on his kneeling form, your whispered ‘yes’ when he finally popped the question “Marry me?”, your wobbly smile when you walked down the red-carpeted aisle, the crack of your voice as your eyes that were holding nothing but love and adoration staring right at him as you began to state your vows began to pool.

Smiling.

He never thought that in his last moments he would be smiling. You’ve made him do things he thought he’d never do in this short life of his. And for that, he’s thankful.

You are truly something else.

***

Breathing was hard. His every inhale didn’t even feel like air, it’s akin to something much more condense. Black was all that surrounds him: a pool of nothing but midnight skies. A weird sensation constantly falling down to a never-ending night is what grounds him to- what exactly.

Though his throat was constricted, a single sound not able to flutter out his lips, his thoughts seemed loud on this vast plain of nothingness.

Where was he?

How can he even breathe?

“You’re still bound.”

What?

“You need to let go.”

Looking around him to at least locate the voice’s body was futile. Was this in his head?

“No. You’re in the middle. Stuck.”

Middle?

“Your time’s done, but you’re still tied down… by your bonds. Let go.”

Realizing what this meant he answered the disembodied voice in his head, I can’t.

A chilling gust of an unknown wind made its way throughout his existence.

***

It can’t be. He knows it can’t happen. He died. How can he still be standing- oh.

He doesn’t know whatever the wind did to him, but he at least deduced that it returned him to you.

You who was now kneeling in the mix of wet gravel and grass whilst staring into the distance with streams still flowing down your puffed eyes, cheeks streaked with layers of endless tears that managed to drip down your wobbling chin, your neck covered in his scarf that had splats of dried hazel-vermillion.

How long was he falling back there?

Two new sounds of weeping.

He sees that the usual gravity-defying golden hair was now instead streaking down the shoulders of a black leather jacket-clad voice hero. Mic. A figure kneeling down beside your form, hugging your side, whose body shook with great intensity together with yours. Midnight.

He aches. Thorns felt like they were encasing him within.

For a moment he wants to hold you, to comfort you, placing his hand to your other shoulder, placing the loose strand of hair behind your ear, but you don’t seem to sense him.

***

It’s been a long month of just watching, of just seeing but not being able to do anything. He hates the unfairness of it all.

He tries. Convincing himself that his touches were felt, that his hugs were warming your numbness, that his kisses were making the sting dwindle little by little, that him laying by the other side of your bed while you sleep with a pillow covered in his old shirt lets you know that he’s still there, that he still loves you, that he still can’t won’t let go.

His touches on your shoulder, which were supposed to reassure you just in turn made you shiver and look confused, bewildered even.

He wants to be heard, to be felt, to exist, but his traces no longer lingered, only a mere susurrate, a short-lived touch in your still graying ambience.

He wants to hold you while you cry and let all of the frustrations out of that head of yours, where he knows that like him you’re stuck, in your own scribbles of granite thoughts, that you too were deprived of the other’s warmth, that you too felt like a shell stuck with all of this sand you called your chaos, your blurring mix of feelings.

And as weeks turns into fleeting months. Months of winter blooming into a spring of years, left on autumn, in auto-pilot, watching, always nearby to see you recover. Recover from the debris and aching splinters that his existence left behind, while he still remains crumbling, pieces of him falling.

“Thank you Hizashi… you grounded me when it all felt like a dream.”

He should’ve been the one doing what Hizashi is now. It should’ve been black instead of gold that you were nuzzling into. It should’ve been his deep baritone rather than the smooth and gentle voice Hizashi uses whenever he encourages, supports, and anchors you.

He should’ve been the one holding your hand whenever you sit in a creaky wooden bench in a nearby park to admire the sunset.

“I know that it’s impossible to reciprocate what I’m about to say, but I at least wanted to let you know-”

“I like you too, Zashi’.”

He should’ve been the one you’re tending, taking care of. Your tears of frustration and aura of concern that was once reserved for him was now for another blond.

“Zashi’ you should start being much more careful you know?”

“I promise I will- ow!”, your smiles at his friend’s idiotic antics just adds jealousy to his mix of resentment and longing.

He should’ve been the only one who sees your gaze of fondness swirling in your beautiful solemn orbs.

But he can’t. He can’t anymore.

And to that he goes back to that midnight swirl, that feeling of falling, to that voice inside his head that was constantly questioning him, encouraging him to release the rope that was still bruising his slowly crumbling heart that he’s put at the back of his mind, not yet wanting to face the reality of the other side, a world without your soft hands holding his cheeks, an existence without your love.

“Surrender Shouta…”

It all felt like déjà vu. Your pretty face blurred with the sheer veil. Soft smiles and salty droplets of tears. The gold-lined red carpet. The people present. It was all like back then, but instead of that classic black tuxedo and a black bow tie, it was a white suit and a navy blue tie.

You’re smiling… at him. Looking directly at him.

It was a whisper, a message just for him; words that helped him to finally let go, to accept, and to be patient.

“Shouta… I hope that you still remember that you will forever be a part of me. Until the next life Shouta Aizawa. Wait for me, we’ll start again; continue what we can’t finish.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hope you all liked this piece. My requests are (finally) open.

#Shouta Aizawa #Aizawa #Shouta Aizawa Fanfic #Aizawa Fanfics #BNHA Fanfic #Shouta Aizawa x You #Shouta Aizawa x Reader #Hizashi Yamada #Yamada #Hizashi Yamada Fanfic #Yamada Fanfics #Hizashi Yamada x You #Hizashi Yamada x Reader #Eraserhead #Present Mic #Eraserhead x Reader #Present Mic x Reader

104 notes · View notes

byorder-fanfic · 3 years

Text

How They Look After You When it Gets Bad: Bonnie

Preference Masterlist

Requested by anonymous

Word count: 1727

Warnings: Reader going through a hard time, suggestive comments, swearing, Bonnie gets hurt (emotionally), not favourable descriptions of Small Heath (apologies to any Brummie readers- it’s for the plot)

Author's Note: Hi! I’ve had some trouble with the Ada and Finn preferences so I’m mixing up the order a bit. Those who’ve requested, your fics will be out soon! If there’s any other characters you want me to write for, feel free to make any more requests. Hope you enjoy and I’m wishing you all my best

(Gif by @sophieshelby)

The Golds were travellers. It's what you loved the most about their life, the life that you jumped into in the greatest leap of faith that came with loving Bonnie. Now, whilst watching him ditch button-ups in favour of short vests, giving you full view of his lean arms attacking bags and people with so much strength was fun, it was the wind in your hair as you sat behind him on his horse, arms wrapped around his middle, it was huddling up in your shared bed in the caravan and arguing as to whether or not you could fit another ugly knitted blanket on top of the rest of them, and the maps you kept in a drawer that was slowly becoming more crosses than roads with all the places you've visited- it was that which made you love this life all the more. Plus, living with you Bonnie and his family (who had welcomed you with open arms the second Bonnie introduced you) created a second home, a home that lived on wheels and trotted down dirt paths. You knew that Bonnie getting his boxing licence would make the travelling come to a halt, and Small Heath would have to be home for as long as there was a job to be done and a reward to be reaped. And you were okay with that. You really were. Maybe there were a few tears as you hugged Esmerelda, Naomie and especially little Floss (she was desperate to see Bonnie go head to head with the Peaky Blinders!) goodbye as they continued travelling, you knew Bonnie felt the absence of his sisters more than you would. So, you made sure he never felt lonely, and the bed never felt empty; well, it wasn't as if it was a particularly difficult task to keep him company.

Small Heath was not a particularly enthralling place. Although you were on friendly terms with the Shelbys and their clan (and that was no exaggeration, they multiplied like rabbits!) and, after many, many threats from both the elder and younger Gold, none of the younger Peakys were planning on making a move on you, it was the place itself that seemed to bore you. All those things that you'd learned to love from your life on the road- the fresh air, the constant movement, the friendly welcomes when you saw another caravan cross your path, and the freshly caught food cooked over an open fire- there was none of that here. The sky was full of fumes that burnt more than the dark char of over-exposed meat, there was no patches of grass or flowers and everything was so fucking grey. Grey streets, grey sky, and a very grey mood for you. Sometimes, when Bonnie and Aberama were busy with the Peaky business that they left you out of, you'd just go over to the Cut and sit by the water to get even the slightest feeling of being back amongst the rivers and streams where you and Bonnie would set a number of ugly knitted blankets down and spend the night besides. You always thought the sound of water, and the view of the stars was the best way to fall asleep. Bonnie said the best way was next to you. You loved him, you truly did, but things were getting hard. Bonnie was always so busy now, between boxing and whatever the hell Tommy bloody Shelby had him apart of. Wrapped up next to him under all the blankets was the most time you spent with him, and he was usually so spent from work that he was snoring after seconds of laying his head on the pillow. All you could do was hope he didn't wake as you breathed softly next to him, trying to ward off sleep as much as you can just to see him as much as you can. By the time the sun rose, he was already up and at it. In stinking Small Heath.

You didn't want to resent him for bringing you here. You wanted to be proud of him when he boasted about getting his boxing license. You wanted to be happy for him when he came back, completely sloshed, after a night out at the Garrison with the Peaky boys he'd gotten close to, and he smelt like bloody whiskey and cigarettes when he cuddled up to you, drunkenly nuzzling his nose into your neck. You hated whiskey and cigarettes. Well, at least you think you did. You hated everything right now. You had tried to distract yourself from this frustration that was slowly building up in you, especially after you 'accidentally' broke one of the cups Naomie had made. You would pay for that when you saw her again. You had gotten Charlie Strong and Curly's permission to help with the horses in the stables. Eventually, though, you just felt sorry for the poor buggers: trapped in a scrap yard in a place full of people and so little greenery. Of course, you refused to admit you were projecting your own feelings on them. After feeling lonely for too long, you decided to make friends with the Shelbys. The Peaky boys that Bonnie had become fast friends with were nice enough, and Bonnie was happy for the excuse to see you more. As for the Shelbys, you had to be honest, they were a bit bloody scary. Esmerelda had made sure you were prepared for them, and you kept a whittling knife on your person every time you left the isolating sanctuary of the caravan, so you knew full well you could keep yourself safe amongst the blood and gore of the gangsters.

Eventually though these feelings caught up with you. You didn't even bother leaving the caravan today, knowing the streets were only going to further sour your mood and, even the bright presence of Bonnie's sleepy, half-awake smile, couldn't stop your erratic scrubbing of the plates. Ever since the Naoime's-broken-pottery-you were-sure-to-pay-for incident, you had only been entrusted with the metal pots and pans that weren't so easy to shatter. Still, you managed to scrub the metal dish in such a way to rouse the weary boxer. He had the day off, as Arthur had told you the night before when you sat in the Garrison, and the rest of the boys gave such a cheer their whiskey splattered on your dress. Bonnie had blushed, but you could see the hints of mischief in his smirk. And, with Aberama taking last night and today back in Small Heath, there was no misunderstanding Bonnie's intentions. You heard his stumbling foot steps as you moved further out of the open caravan door, focusing far too much on the washcloth and the practically sparkling pot that you still scrubbed.

"Hey, dove," he said in sing-song tone that usually made your heart melt. Now it made your blood boil.

"Mornin' Bon," you replied back, far too snappy for his soft voice.

He was startled. You didn't have to see his face to know he had flinched, feeling the sudden twinge of pain in the air like a broken string.

"Are you alright?" He asked, kindly, reaching down to rest his hand over yours. Instantly, you dropped the pan and cloth on the floor, hearing it crash against the soft grass.

"Well, you'd know if you'd have been there!" Along with your swift movement to stand up, the fierceness in your voice made Bonnie back away into the caravan. He saw the frustration clear in your face, and his shoulders hung in shame. He knew he'd been busy- too busy- and it must've hurt you.

"I'm so sorry, dove, I swear I'm trying to do this for us."

"For you! And all I fucking do is stay in this fucking city!"

"It's not for long- then we can have that life we planned, with the boxing licence and our own caravan and-"

"And I don't wanna be here!"

You screamed it so loud that you were sure the birds in the trees surrounding you had flapped away from your voice like a shot had been fired from one of the Golds' many, many guns. And Bonnie seemed like he wanted to flee too, face so smushed up and hurt.

"I hate this place! It's dirty and cold and it smells like fucking shit!"

Bonnie felt his whole body crumble at the tightness in your face, the look of pure anger making your fists squeeze in so tight he knew your nails would be digging in. He was the boxer and it was of his opinion that you should never have to raise a fist like this. You must hate him. You must do, and he was feeling his broad shoulders dip at the wildness that flickered in your eyes.

"I don't want to be here!" It was the crack in your voice that revealed yourself. A crack that mended Bonnie's wounded expression into that of concern. You didn't hate him. You didn't. You probably didn't even mind stinking old Small Heath.

"Then how about we get outta here?" He suggested, giving you that lopsided grin that always made you childishly giddy. Even now, with frustration embedding your palms, you felt a kinder warmth flood to your cheeks. With more confidence, he moved towards you, cupping your cheek as you felt yourself just drop a little without the weight of frustration on your shoulders.

"Please," you muttered, leaning forward to rest your forehead against yours. "I want fresh air and empty fields and a blanket next to a stream."

"Just you and me lying down and looking at the stars?"

"That's all, Bon."

"Then you'll get it. Let's get changed, pack some food and we can get on a horse and just keep on riding, ey?" You chuckled a little at his romantic proposition, burying yourself closing into his grasp. "And get out of smelly old Small Heath that's been keeping me away from my dove."

"You're gonna have a lot of time to make up for." A little bit of frustration still hung in your mind, but the sweet look of adoration on your Bonnie's face was enough to soothe it into a cheeky remark.

"Indeed I do," he whispered into your neck. His expression got sadder again. "I'm sorry."

"So am I."

#bonnie gold #bonnie gold x reader #bonnie gold imagine #bonnie gold fanfiction #bonnie gold fanfic #bonnie gold preference #bonnie gold fluff #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders preference #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders oc #Aberama Gold #tommy shelby #Arthur shelby

274 notes · View notes

aerynwrites · 3 years

Text

Unattainable

Captain Rex x F!Reader

A/N: So uhhh...Yeah I’m in my Rex feels. And I read something about the clones having accelerated Aging and it made me sad so I channeled that into this fic xD Hope you all enjoy!

WC: 1.1k

Warnings: Mentions of death, fear of death, emotional hurt/comfort.

-------------

You had pretty much grown out of being phased by the fatalities and gruesome details you see in battle. You remember as a Padawan you cringed and flinched and your heart was heavy with every death you witnessed. However, after being a Jedi master for several years and being a general in the Clone Wars, it has somewhat hardened your resolve and your mind. You still hold the compassion that is expected of a Jedi, but those things no longer make you lose much sleep.

Until tonight it seems.

You can practically feel the silence of your quarters pressing down on you. The ticking of the mechanical clock on your nightstand and the slow even breathing of the body beside you seem deafening in the silence. You sit up, pushing the covers from your body as you make your way out into the small living room to stare out the thick transparisteel to the stars beyond. You know that meditation would ease your mind, but it’s running fast with so many thoughts that you would never be able to empty it in order to achieve a calm state.

You let out a sigh as you cross your arms over your chest, still looking out at the galaxy passing by you. Hoping, naively, that the stars will give you the answers you seek. The light shuffle of familiar footsteps however, does not give the stars much time to answer.

You don’t turn to face him as he approaches you, eyes staying glued to the view port as he comes to stand next to you. He rubs his eyes tiredly, a yawn escaping his lips before he speaks.

“Cyare?” his voice is soft as he addresses you, “What’s wrong?”

You could lie. You could lie and say you just couldn’t sleep - still too wound up from the battle. You could simply tell him that nothing is wrong and lead you both back to bed. You know that he would believe you. You know he won’t push you into talking about something you don’t want too.

But this is Rex. And since he is the main object of your thoughts...you own him to reveal what’s on your mind.

You let out a small sigh, your arms dropping to your side as you finally speak. “What if we just left.” you say bluntly, not wanting to beat around the bush since this is something you've talked about before. “I have connections. Good ones. I could secure us a place-”

Rex’s exasperated sigh cuts you off, “Not this again-”

“Rex!” you interject, turning and reaching out to take his hands in your own, “Please listen to me-” you beg, the tears you have been holding back since earlier today burning your eyes harshly, “I can’t do this anymore,” you breathe, “I can’t go out there and fight alongside you and your brothers knowing that those above you - above us - see you as nothing but pawns in their game. I can’t continue fighting for people who don’t see their best soldiers as human beings!” you gasp, “So why can’t we leave?”

Rex pulls his hand from yours harshly, and you are assaulted with waves of conflicting emotions rolling off the man in front of you. Fear, anger, frustration, confusion, love, yearning - but most of all - resentment. Bitterness. Feelings so deep and powerful that they practically knock you off your feet.

“And what would we do if we left?” he counters, “Go live on a farm in some backwater planet? Desert everything we’ve ever fought for? Get married? Have children?”

“Why not?” you practically wail, the tears you were fighting so hard to conceal finally slipping down your cheeks, “You make it sound like those are terrible things to want! That craving a family and peace is something so terrible!”

“Those things are terrible when you can’t have them!” he shouts, “You want things we can’t have! You want things that I can’t give you.”

“Why?” you repeat the question that has been plaguing your mind for months now. “Why can’t we have that? Cut had it. Cut has everything we want over on Saleucami. He has a wife and two adorable little kids and he’s happy! We don’t even have to do it now. We can wait until the war is over-”

“And then what?” Rex cries, and you watch as his anger gives way to hysteria and fear and anguish. “After the war ends what do you expect?” he eggs on. “You expect us to live happily ever after on some outer rim planet and have kids of our own so that all of you can watch me die in your arms of old age because of the accelerated aging that us clones have been cursed with?”

You falter at his words, taking a few cautious steps towards the man you love as your heart breaks for him. Finally realizing that what has been holding him back is fear. Not anger.

“Rex you can’t think like that-”

“I have too!” his words come out of shuddered breathes and you don’t miss the shine of unshed tears in his eyes, “Because if I don’t, then as soon as we get a little speck of happiness, it will be taken from us and I-” he swallows thickly as he finally reaches out to take your hands in his once more. “I can’t do that to you,” he breathes, a few stray tears falling silently down his cheeks, “I can’t create a life with you knowing that I’ll only get to spend a fraction of it alive.”

You can’t even begin to think of what to say. And you suppose in this moment you don’t really have to say anything. So, in lieu of empty sentiments of understanding, you wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace, running a free hand through the short blonde hair at the base of his skull.

“Well then,” you begin, voice thick with emotion, “Let’s just enjoy the time we do have, yeah? Then, we can see what our future holds.”

Rex lets out a shuddering breath and pulls you closer to him, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he does so. “I love you. I’m sorry.” he whispers softly, lips brushing lightly over your shoulder.

You nod and hug him tighter, afraid if you let go, neither of you will be able to hold it together. “I love you too, Rex. No matter what happens.”

And as you both stand in the living room in each other's embrace, you can’t help but feel a smidge of hope tug at your heart. Because despite the destiny placed on the clone captain, your love for one another will be enough.

It has to be.

-------------

Permanent Taglist: @ajeff855 @kaermorons @imnotakilleranymore @hiscyarika @hail-doodles @mrpascals @bestintheparsec @forever-rogue @leaiorganas @wille-zarr @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @princessxkenobi @phoenixhalliwell @theocatkov @swimmingsloths @getinthepoolkeanu @engie115 @somnibats @rosiefridayrogersunday @recklessworry @gooddaykate @niki-xie @amneris21

#clones x reader #clone wars x reader #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #star wars the clone wars #Clone Wars #Star Wars

216 notes · View notes

curious-menace · 3 years

Text

Arkham Scarecrow SFW Alphabet

im really enjoying writing arkham scarecrow. maybe ill do something similar to my random riddler headcanons posts with some scarecrows

long post under the cut

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Uhhh, the short answer is no. Jonathan is almost wholly incapable of what most people would term “affection”. His idea of loving is not using you for his experiments, only giving you small doses to build up your immunity( not that that will stop him from enjoying watching you panic). Jonathan leans heavily on gifts and words of affirmation as his language of love ( assuming he can even feel that emotion). He calls you “my dear” and “my darling” or once “my pumpkin” if he had too much to drink.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Jonathan would make a good friend if he could ever be wrangled into admitting it. He’s a complete bastard, but he's a loyal bastard. He always goes above and beyond for his friends but it's always in a “aw shit. My favorite idiot needs help AGAIN?!” begrudging , kind of way. You probably met in university/college and if you've stuck with him this long he’d be hard to get rid of.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He never asks for cuddles and is pretty touch adversed as a rule. Sometimes though, He simply plonks himself in your space and expects you to know what he wants. Usually it's gentle backrubs/strokes like you would with a child. Sometimes he just wants your warmth to sooth his aching body. He’s heavier than he was in Arkham asylum but still very underweight so you shouldn't have too much trouble moving him into a comfortable position.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Absolutely not. I'm not convinced this man owns more than his books and the burlap sack on his back ,never mind a home. He has plans to take the cloudburst on tour, to go cross country and then across the world spreading fear. That would be a little difficult if he had gotham mortgage sending him nasty emails every other day about missed payments. While he can cook and clean, I doubt you'd want to eat anything he made. Ignoring his filthy hands, he's probably laced it with fear toxin or a lethal amount of hot sauce.

His homemade cleaning chemicals are pretty stellar mind you. They can get blood, piss or tears out of anything.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Scarecrow really is a ride or die kinda guy. If you've wormed your way into his life then he’s going to do literally everything and anything to keep you in it. He’s not above making you dependent on him for safety just to keep you around longer. He’s not a total monster to the people he cares about mind you. If you really didn't want to be with him, he’d let you go….eventually.

I'm not sure he fully understands the concept of a “breakup”on his end. He gets that you don't see eachother anymore but I don't think he quite grasps that it's not because one party is dead. There's a 99% chance he’ll use you for his fear toxin experiments as a way of kicking you to the kerb. If you wake up in a ditch with a text that says “we’re through” you should consider yourself lucky.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

I canon arkham scarecrow as having been engaged at one point in his life, possibly around the time of origins. I can imagine his partner gave him a “me or the fear toxin” ultimatum which has led to the man you know now. Despite how he looks, how he speaks and acts, he’s still open to the idea of a partner. He’s a loyal man who can't stand backstabbers, he’d appreciate someone like a spouse/husband/wife to have his back. If he decided he wanted to get married he’d propose almost immediately. It might be more of a business or thesis type proposal with lots of talking rather than flowers and wine and you're likely to be married as soon as you said yes.

He has a tiny pumpkin ring saved for the occasion. Something like this (image credit https://www.banggood.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s gentle, in a creepy way unsurprisingly. He was a little stronger than the average man before the incident with croc, all that cardio and fighting with batman made him a skinny legend amongst the rogues for how well he could fight. Now? He couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag. Mostly he's calm and soft, especially when you wouldn't expect him to be. He can still be an emotionally manipulative person but chances are good you're smart enough to see right through him. Calling him on his bs is actually a good way to endear yourself to him. He likes a challenge and he loves it when people think they can outsmart him.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Hmm. yes and no. Scarecrow is severely touch adversed, but...It's not like with Riddler; Edward is on the autism spectrum and genuinely gets overstimulated by a lot of physical contact, he doesn't usually enjoy it unless under specific circumstances. Scarecrow WANTS to be hugged and held on occasion, but the mere thought of someone in his personal bubble sends his hackles up.

When he first woke up after the asylum, he clung to you like a lampent. Scarecrow gives and recieves hugs like someone who needs them to breath.Your warmth soothes the aching pain when even drugs couldn't . By the time of Arkham Knight he’s grown cold and distant. His hugs are few and far between and unusually half hearted even when he initiates them. Maybe he’s just preoccupied with batman.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I doubt he’d ever say the words ``i love you” but he’s absolutely going to quote love poetry at you, recite lines from his favorite literature “shall i compare you to a summer's day” and all that. That’s far better than a simple “i love you” right?

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Jonathan is sort of one note when it comes to expressing frustration. Coffee machine not working? Melt it down into fear toxin vials. Line at the grocery store? Gas everyone out of his way. He doesnt get mad, he gets even. He’s not a super jealous person, he’s probably the most secure in himself out of all the rogues in Gotham bar Selina and ivy. But when something does hit his jealousy bone just right? LORD HE IS TERRIBLE.

Unless you were the instigator, you are 100% safe but the poor soul who made the mistake of flirting with you will never see the light of day again.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He can't really kiss to be honest. He lacks a lot of lip tissue and tongue dexterity for deep smooching. He’s quite happy to give you little pecks on the cheek but anywhere else will get sloppy and he's not a fan of that. Jonathan has actually started to bump you with his head like a cat in lieu of kisses. Rare as it is, when he wants kisses he has a tendency to nuzzle into the crook of your neck or rest his head on your shoulder. He likes to be kissed on the cheek , forehead and top of his head. Most other places are covered in scars and lack the sensitivity to enjoy it.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He likes to scare kids. It's not as malicious as it is with adults, he just likes to yell boo at them, smiling as they scream and giggle and run away. It's probably the most innocent he’ll act around other people. He still doesnt like them per say but he’ll tolerate them in small doses.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Scarecrow , like most rogues, is not a morning person. He doesn't sleep well and he is hella grumpy when he first wakes up. Expect to watch him shuffle around his hideout like a zombie, still wearing a quilt and his dressing gown as he complains about everything from the weather to the loud creaking of the floorboards. You should present him with food and coffee and then retreat to a safe distance until he’s fully awake, otherwise he’s liable to turn on his grumpy old man routine on you. If he's feeling particularly sore or needy, he’ll ask you to help change his bandages and dressings .

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

It really depends on what he feels like in the moment. Sometimes he’ll leave you at home while he goes out to cause general mischief, sometimes he’ll bring you along as a look out. Sometimes it's a low-key night at the hideout reading and sometimes it's a caffeine fueled frenzie of experimentation and lab work with you as his trusty lab assistant. He doesn't sleep well at night, the aches keep him up. If he were ever to actually go to bed he might find that you make a great pillow.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

As much as he resents people having the upperhand with information, it's hard not for people to see his past. His scars are so easily visible, inside and out. He doesn't talk about his past unless prompted. But if you do he’ll quite happily answer all your questions; he’s not afraid of discussing it.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Jonathan is a very patient man, not just when it comes to revenge.It takes quite a lot to make him fly off the handle and he cools off again quickly. That's not to say he doesn't hold a grudge like he’s being paid for it, only that it's more of a simmering anger rather than a boiling one.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers most things about you, he has an excellent memory. But that being said he never lets on that he knows these things. He likes to hear you talk about the things that interest you, even if you've told him about it before. Watching you wax lyrical about your chosen subject makes him feel close to you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

I don't know if it's a favorite or even a positive memory but when he first woke up from surgery after croc you were lying beside him. He was understandably confused, maybe even afraid, but seeing you there brought him great comfort. He didn't know what was happening because of all the meds, but as long as you were with him he was confident things would work out for him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He means well, you should always keep that in mind before you snap at him. He brought you to the arkham knights HQ to protect you from his plans, he’s given you micro doses of fear toxin to build your resistance and by the time of arkham knight you can hardly move for the amount of guards he has following you around. He’s overbearing bordering on controlling but I think it's because he simply can't admit the thought of losing you scares him, even just a little. You aren't a rogue, you don't know Batman like they do. He just needs to keep you safe from batman, from the police and from the ugly world outside.

Given how weak he’s been viewed practically all his life, I believe he’d resent the accusation he needed protecting. deep in his mind he knows no one man is an island. He appreciates little helps even if he won't say it. He doesn't need protection per say but If nothing else, after being injected with his new toxin, he's going to need someone who’s corpus mentis in his corner for court and medical proceedings.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

His idea of a perfect date is you two working on your respective projects in comfortable silence, maybe a trip to the museum if he feels like the exercise. Obviously that suits some people down to the ground, myself included, but he gets that it's not for everyone. He’s probably ok with you planning the activities provided you warn him beforehand.

Given everything he’s been planning for batman, things like important dates and even everyday tasks have a tendency to get lost in the fray. He's not doing it on purpose, He’s glad to celebrate these things with you if you remind him, He's just got his priorities in a funny order.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He shuffles his feet when he walks and is one of those people who always has conversations in doorways. You can never be sure he isn't aware of these habits and is doing them on purpose. He also used to smoke quite heavily but has since given it up due to his throat and lung issues.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

It's sort of a mixed bag with him. On the one hand he knows he’s ugly, that's the point. You're MEANT to be scared looking at him, he’s leaning into it. But on the other hand his “look” is a carefully maintained visage; if it slips it might lose the intended effect. He might not be as scary to look at or worse, people might look at him in pity. It's not ordinary vanity or narcissism but yes, he is concerned with maintaining the way he looks

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

The concept of feeling whole is somewhat lost on him; He’s clearly missing a few screws even in his most lucid moments. That said even in the depths of madness brought on by his toxin, he still notices your absence. Still incredibly distressed In his cell in blackgate, he can often be heard crying out to you for comfort but is lacking the wherewithal to understand why you're not there.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Given that he has pretty extensive facial injuries, eating is pretty difficult for him. He used to really enjoy bagels and cubanos from gothams many deli’s. His favorite was a kosher deli in The Cauldron, before Joker ruined it. They’ve since rebuilt and while he can't eat many solids anymore , he still enjoys their matzo soup and smoothies.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Like most of the rogues, he absolutely can't stand bullies.He also can't stand physically aggressive people; if you're going to even TRY and intimidate him maybe you could use your words like someone with more than 2 brain cells to rub together, rare as that is in gotham. Back when he was a psychiatrist he hated people who were chronically late. Not his patients, most of the time it wasn't their fault due to executive dysfunction or traffic, but people who kept HIM back and made HIM late were the bane of his existence.

Z = Zzz (What are their sleep habits?)

Crane is a back sleeper who snores because of his damaged septum.He knows he makes a noise akin to a flip flop in a lawn mower but there is literally nothing he can do about it besides sleep on his stomach. He squirms around a lot in his sleep so even if he starts on his stomach, he’ll be on his back snoring like a dead horse in no time. The only thing that could keep him frontwise is if he were to sleep on you and have you hold him in place.

#Sfw alphabet #scarecrow #jonathan crane #headcanons #scarecrow headcanons #my headcanons #my stuff

40 notes · View notes

kim-chann · 4 years

Text

How would the Matsuno brothers apologize to his S/O after a fight?

Osomatsu: After a fight, expect him to be sleeping in the couch tonight boy. He would need time alone to recollect himself and find a way to make it up to you. After a fight, he’ll be blocking out all his emotions (just like season 1 episode 24), but he’ll be a broken man inside. His heart would break remembering the tears that drifted down your cheeks. He wanted to stop yelling and wipe the tears away and give you a big hug. But yet he continued to yell, and that’s how he ended up getting kicked outside of your home.

Osomatsu would walk around the area, hands in his pockets, trying to distract himself with something else, but all he could think of was you. Osomatsu would go to Chibita’s and drink until he passes out, but who would pick him up? Certainly, it would not be you. His blocked out emotions would snap once he grows tired of living in the hole he dug. He’d take out his emotions angrily and punch it out on an ally way wall. But after a few bottles of beer and tears. He was ready to apologize.

Osomatsu would get your favorite snack from the market and make his way back to your house, his heart beating out of his chest when he remembers the fight. When he knocks on your door and see’s you open up the door, all scruffy, red eyed, and tired. His confidence would break down completely. He would be trembling, trying not to bring you into a tight hug and apologize for what he has said. But instead, he stares into your eyes, trying to read if you’re comfortable with him being around, he’ll slip out his apologies and give you the snacks. If you miss him as much as he did, he’ll hold you close into your arms, his head in your neck as he squeezes you tight like you’re the last living beings on earth. “I’m so sorry, S/O...”

Karamatsu: Oh boy, it would take a while to rile this baby boy up. He’s not known for causing fights, especially not towards his S/O. But if something were to happen where he snaps, he would immediately stop when he sees your tears and feel an overwhelming feeling of guilt and fear of what he’s done. He would mutter your name, wanting to be gentle with his tone, not wanting to scare you further more. He would apologise then and there while bring you into his shaky arms, his biceps squeezing gently on your head as he runs his fingers through your hair. If you push him away harshly, he’ll break down in tears, practically begging that you forgive him.

He’s a man who hates confrontations and not wanting to disappoint people. So if his S/O needs some space, he’ll respect that, but expect him to be checking up on you a few times to make sure that you’re alright as he brings gifts, snacks, flowers, chocolates-- you name it, in order to make you feel loved. He’ll apologise every second he sees you, lowering his barrier of vulnerability to show that he’s at your mercy. Once you forgive him, he’ll be so happy and bring you to a gentle hug while kissing your head. Expect him to be more gentle around you and give you more cuddles, gifts, as his efforts double to make you feel like the best living being in the world. Because you’re his world.

Choromatsu: Just like Karamatsu, he would stop when he sees you cry. He wouldn’t know what to do. He knew if you go up to you and pretend that nothing just happen, you’ll be angry. So he doesn’t know what to do but watch you cry. He didn’t want to seem like an ass who watches his S/O cry in front of him while not comforting them, but he’s trying his best. Choromatsu would mutter an apology once your cries grow a bit quieter while he fiddles with his fingers, with him biting his lip in guilt. He didn’t mean for you to cry, he blames himself that he made you cry this much. He’ll ask you if you want a hug and if you need some space to yourself.

If you want the hug, he’ll bring you in his embrace, his hand rubbing circles on your back as he cradles your head into his chest softly. If you need some space, he’ll excuse himself out of the house so he’ll take a walk to get some fresh air. But during his walk, he’ll make sure to buy you some snacks that you like, just like Osomatsu, so he’ll bring a treat for you to feel better. After an hour, he’ll return and ask if you’re alright, keeping a slight distance to not rile you up. He’ll respect your boundaries and makes an effort to make you comfortable. Once you accept his apology, he’ll invite you to watch a movie or sleep early to get some rest together. In the inside, he’ll be cheering and relived that you didn’t break up with him. He loves you too much to let you go that easily.

Ichimatsu: Yeesh. I think you’re the one that needs to confront this kitty boy. Once he raises his voice and yells at you, he’ll immediately feel the tense atmosphere and become overwhelmed. When he sees the angry and sad tears drift down your cheeks, he would feel his heart shatter into pieces. He doesn’t know what to do. Just like Choromatsu, he’ll immediately blame himself, muttering, “This is my fault, I’m sorry” over and over again. “...I’m garbage, I don’t deserve you, I’m sorry...” His voice word be breathy and hoarse. He’ll insult himself as he’s repeating those words like a mantra.

He would have a panic attack just by looking at the mess he’s done when he sees the pain he’s inflicted upon you. You would need to comfort him about it, not wanting his self deprecation to become worse in the moment. Once you accept his apology, he’ll be denying it, saying that you deserved better and he needs to throw himself off a cliff for making you feel like trash. Once you insist, you’ll need to hug him and he’ll hug you back, trying his best to comfort you but you’re the one that’s really confronting him. Despite him being guilty and worried for hurting you, he’s very, very, happy that you stood with him even after what he’s said to you. And his guilty tears would turn into happy tears. He loves you too much to let you go.

Jyushimatsu: You would really need him to rile him up in order for him to snap at you. If he does, he’ll lower down his voice and put his sleeve over his mouth, his eyes wide after he yells. He would narrows his eyebrows at you with his lips fallen into a thin line of guilt. He would tilt his head and hum when you cry, not knowing what to do to not make you uncomfortable. He’ll try his best to make you laugh in-between gentle jokes that never failed to make you laugh.

He’ll pull off stuns; cartwheels, water coming out of his head, nose, and ears, etc. When he hears you laugh in between your cries, he would try harder to turn your tears into tears of laughter. If it works, he’ll say, “I love you S/O!” As his way of saying sorry. Once you take the message and accept his apology, he’ll nuzzle his cheeks against yours and give you sloppy kisses while he laughs happily into your neck. Expect him to hug you more often as a way of saying sorry, cause he doesn’t really know how to be straight forward to make you accept his apology.

Todomatsu: He’ll click his tongue, “Tsk, why are you crying? Can you stop? It’s so annoying...” He’ll roll his eyes and think you’re trying to make him guilty. He thinks your tears were an act for him to lower down his barrier and show vulnerability so that you can counter his resentment with anger that will hurt him. It’ll take him a moment to realise that your tears were real tears, not fake ones. He’ll immediately feel his heart pang with sorrow once he recalls what he’s done to hurt you.

He’ll be at your aid and try to bargain your emotions for something that you want. “If you stop crying, I’ll give you kisses and cuddles.” He would coo. He would try to be “funny” in a way to make you giggle in between your sobs as he slowly brings himself closer to you before slipping his arms around you and pulling you into an embrace. “I’m sorry, S/O. Can you forgive me?~” He’ll try not to show that he’s not letting his guard down when he holds you. But he’s holding himself back to not cry harder than you into your arms and scream for forgiveness. But once you accept his apology, he’ll give you the happiest smile you’ve ever seen as he kisses your cheeks with a smile. He’ll make it up to you by buying expensive things that you like in order to make you feel better. Where he got the money? No one knows...

I hope you guys liked it! I got a bit sad when I wrote some of the boys being sad haha. Anyways, feel free to send me a request or a matchup in my inbox!

#Osomatsu-san #osomatsu san #osomatsu #karamatsu #choromatsu #ichimatsu #jyushimatsu #todomatsu #osomatsu headcanon #osomatsu san headcanon #osomatsu san hc #Apologies

142 notes · View notes

zirkkun · 4 years

Text

a suffering aftermath.

a suffering aftermath. (Undertale Fanfic - based off of huntsman. by @alch3mic - rated M by AO3 standards)

+ huntsman!sans/lil red!reader (though instead written with they/them because;; self indulgence)

+ 1241 words, english

+ hurt/comfort with yandere elements. this is a rant fic based on parts of huntsman. that reminded me very much of of my own life. lowkey i guess “based on a true story” cause it’s my life lol

+ takes place after the events of huntsman., which you should totally read btw

+ “He thought it would be over once they were dead. Unfortunately, there are some scars left behind that cannot be healed. And he hates them with every fiber of his being.”

+ AO3 link

"You know... I'm glad that my stalker is gone, but..." They bit their lip as they spoke. "I always fear they're going to come back."

Sans turned to his human, a brow raised, the faint noise of the television still playing the movie the two of them had been watching. "what brings this up?" he asked.

"I... I dunno," they confess. "I was just thinking about it again." Pulling their legs up onto the couch, they held their head up by resting it against their knees. "I... I don't know if you know this, but... I had troubles with them long before they were my co-worker. In high school." There was a long pause between this confession and their continuation, eyes flipping between the television, the floor, and Sans's face eagerly awaiting the rest of their story. A sigh slipped passed their lips. "We'd met in middle school and were friends for a while, but it wasn't long until they were really clingy in... really physical ways. I... I really hated it. So I started just ignoring them, cause I didn't know what else to do. But they had my email, so they kept emailing me..."

For a moment, they tried to distract themself from the memory of it by watching the movie in front of them instead, but it was clear by Sans's motion of wrapping an arm around their waist and bringing them closer to him that he wanted to hear more of the story. Caving to this, they timidly continued. "They sent me a lot of horrible things, Sans. Long winded explanations of their abuse. Endlessly typo-filled letters of their love for me. Graphic descriptions of their sex life. Threats that they would cut themself or even kill themself if I didn't reply or accept them as if they weren't flawed. I was so scared. I didn't know what to do." It was beyond their control: tears started to trickle down their cheeks as they started to remember everything all at once. At the very least, Sans's gentle rubbing against their back was a bit calming, but it didn't stop the horror overwhelming their mind.

"E-eventually the emails stopped but... the stalker came back. It's almost like they were reignited the second I had a boyfriend." Sans repressed his resentment to hearing such a phrase, but soon pushed it aside with the reminder he could not change his human's life from before him. It only moderately settled his nerves. "The threats they made to him... he later ended up being just as abusive as they were, but so subtle and positive about it that I didn't even realize, but, stars, if anything happened to him because of me?" They shook their head aggressively, words cracking as they fell out of their mouth. "I don't know what I'd do with myself."

Sans couldn't bare to listen to their crying anymore. He pulled them even closer, embracing them completely in a hug and nuzzled into their neck, trying to carefully shush them as their cries refused to cease. Burying their face into the fabric of Sans's black hoodie, they tried to get a grip on their emotions again before saying anything; their hands were death gripping the back of his sweatshirt, trembling as they tried to calm their ever stuttering breath. "S-sorry," they eventually whimpered.

"for what, sweetheart?" Sans whispered. "it's ok. i'm here for ya. just say what you've got to."

Swallowing heavy, and while appreciating his kind words, they couldn't help but feel guilty for suddenly dropping such a heavy topic on him out of nowhere. Ah, it was just like them, wasn't it? To once again ruin a nice date night Sans had planned for the two of them... Their grip on his shirt tightened.

"Ha, ha..." They let out a nervous laugh, trying to sound at least a little more uplifted. "Can you really believe all that happened when I was 15...? And it wasn't even half of it..." They took another heavy breath before continuing, trying to suspend their hiccuping weeps for at least a brief time. "When it got to the end of high school, they desperately tried becoming friends with me again. We had a singular class together... and every time it rolled around it sent me into a silent panic attack. Sometimes they tried passing me notes through a 'mutual friend'... sometimes they'd hang up signs on their desk during class directed at me... and like six or seven times they made alternate accounts to try and follow me online and become friends that way... as someone else I didn't call a stalker. Every time I blocked them, they called me out, creating so much drama that I lost all the friends and bits of internet fame I'd built over the years..." They tucked their head further down. "Sorry, you don't care about that..."

"i care about everything that has to do with you," Sans blurted. "everything."

But they still weren't so sure, and skipped the topic anyway. No, they were sure he wouldn't care about how they had to make a new internet personality entirely. That was off topic at this point. Rather, the more important point...

"You know they found me again. They got the same job as me. They tried working with me. They tried asking me out again. They tried asking to be friends again. They threatened me again. They... They even learned where I lived and stalked me for weeks--"

"i know, i know," Sans hushed. "but they're not gonna hurt you anymore."

"But how can you be so sure...?"

"have I lied to you before, sweetheart?"

His coy tone. He knew the truth. But it's not like he would ever dare say anything.

To them, his voice sounded merely playful. Reassuringly positive.

... to an extent.

"No..." they mumbled, though some part of them wasn't wholly confident; speaking against his hoodie. "No, you haven't."

Sans pressed a soft kiss against their neck. "and i'm not gonna, ok? you can trust me. they're never going to hurt you ever again. not while i'm here for you."

The television continued through the movie, which was reaching its end. A pity. So close to a normal evening. But it was fine for now. The reasoning was legitimate enough. Sans was even finding himself a bit devastated at the sight of his Little Red's tears. Their genuine tears. Each one crushed him. Fueled his anger.

Hunting the enemy had been easy.

Dealing with the mess they caused was not.

Had this stalker not already been long dead and disposed of, Sans would have dropped everything to kill them right now. Anything to stop these tears from dripping down his precious human's cheeks. But now, there was nothing to express his fury onto. He could do nothing for now other than hold them close, despite how every passing second of hearing that traumatized sob practically cracked his Soul, bit by suffering bit.

Why is this not so easily dealt with?

Why can't he just... throw what's unnecessary away?

Why can't this motherfucking rat leave his Little Red Riding Hood alone?

Sans held them just a bit tighter. A bit more desperately. "i'm here for you, sweetheart," he reminded once again. He even grimaced as they held a tighter grip on his jacket, practically feeling their pain as if it was his own.

"nothing bad is ever gonna happen to you again."

#undertale #undertale fanfic #sans undertale #huntsman!sans #yandere tw//#past abuse tw//#hurt/comfort #oneshot #rant fic #zircon writes #undertale au

24 notes · View notes

scribbling-stiks · 3 years

Text

Puppets - XLVII - The Waiting Game

The longer Russia stares out the bars of the cage, the tighter his chest gets. His face contorts into a snarl and he clenches his fists. Fury creeps up his throat, and the back of his mouth burns with the need to cry out.

He takes a heaving breath and begins to scream.

"*Why us? WHY? What the F*** is even happening? WHY? This isn't fair. This ISN'T FAIR! We're exhausted and hurt. Isn't that enough?! I want to go home to my family! I WANT TO GO HOME!*"

He screams wordlessly, glaring at the dreary world around him.

"*I have had enough! They've had ENOUGH! We want to leave! WE ARE DONE WITH THIS GODD*** BULLS***!*"

His voice grows hoarse with every word. He feels tears gathering behind his eyes. He chokes on his words.

The fury drains out of him. The energy it brought. The fiery spirit. Gone.

All that remains is a pit of longing and bitter resentment.

"*We want to go home...*" he trails off. The first tear streaks down his face.

"*I just want to go home,*" he mutters.

He shuts his eyes tightly, trying to stem his tears. He chokes on the sobs that force their way out of his chest. It feels unfair. He should be strong. There are children here. They should be allowed to cry. Not him. White-hot shame runs through his body. He shudders and curls up onto himself. He tries to stop his crying, biting his tongue and burying his face in his hands.

"Hey," America says gently, grabbing his hands to pull them away.

Russia jerks away. His stomach tightens into knots.

"Hey," America whispers, gently grasping his wrists.

This time, Russia relents.

His hands fall and they shake in his lap. His chest aches. He breaths in short gasps, trying to hold his breath to keep any more crying at bay.

"Look at me."

Russia looks up, and through his tears, he sees America looking at him with a gentle smile and kind eyes.

"It's okay to cry, okay?"

Russia vigorously shakes his head.

'It is not,' his mind argues, but he can't bring himself to say it.

Even still, his chest tightens more with every bit he swallows back. He looks away and drops his head.

Russia feels his face being wrapped by America's hands. Calloused, but gentle. Russia can feel him using his thumbs to wipe away the tears.

The care behind the motion causes the emotions to come tumbling out.

He leans heavily against America's hands. Shivers shake his hands and weepings rocks his chest. He cries from fear, sadness, longing, grief, though grief for what, he isn't sure.

He feels America press their foreheads together, but can't bring himself to look up and meet America's eyes. He feels so dirty.

'I am an adult. I should be able to control myself.'

"There's nothing wrong with crying," America whispers.

Russia feels warm water hit his hands. He draws away and opens his eyes.

America crying too. Silent tears drip down his face, but a shaky smile stays. America pulls his hands back and he opens them for a hug.

Russia grabs him tightly, crying into his shoulder. America just hums softly and rubs soft circles on his back. Russia still feels America's tears drop onto his shoulder.

When he finally calms down, he pulls away with a wince. His chest feels lighter, but with the overwhelming anger and sadness gone, shame takes its place.

"*I'm sorry.*"

"*Don't be. It's all okay,*" America replies, brushing off his shoulder.

Russia looks away and wipes his face. He glances at the others in the surrounding cells and notices all of them had looked away. His eyes return to his lap.

Then he hears someone walking in. Heavy footfalls ring out from the hallway, but he can't see whoever is coming.

He hears something being thrown at Canada and Finland. It sounds like cloth.

"Now that yer done screaming, I can give ye yer change of clothes," a gruff voice mumbles.

A soldier walks out with some kind of cloth in his arms. He shoves some of it through the slats of the gate. America gets up and picks it up skeptically.

"Why are you giving these to us?"

"Do ye want me to take it back?"

America doesn't reply. Instead, he straightens one of the pieces of cloth to reveal a dull brown tunic. He begins to put it on and tosses Russia the other one.

Russia pulls it over his head. It's baggy, and the material is itchy, but it's dry. If he were to stand, the fabric would reach his knees, and the sleeves cover his arms.

Russia sighs, and tucks himself into a corner of the cell next to one of the cots and away from the bathroom utilities and the bars. He sits for a few minutes, listening to static-y thoughts.

"Hey, Russ."

Russia looks up.

"Sit with me? It isn't any softer, but it's at least a little warmer than the floor," America offers, sitting on the cot next to him.

Russia hops up and loses the little isolation he had cultivated. He can now hear talking from the people around him, but he doesn't bother to listen in on their conversations.

He sits quietly on the end of the cot, lost in thought when America inches closer. He doesn't think too much of it until they are nearly shoulder to shoulder.

He looks over, curious, and sees America look away with a blush.

"What is it? Is something wrong?" Russia asks.

"No. Nothing's wrong," America says.

...

"Can I ask you a question?" America says, and his voice cracks.

Russia nods and looks over, meeting America's eyes.

"Can I kiss you?"

Russia's brain short circuits, and it feels like his mind had bluescreened. He shakes his head as if to reset it.

"Now?" Russia whispers.

America nods with an embarrassed look.

"I know it isn't a good time, but," America sighs, "please?"

Russia nervously glances at the states and Philippines and sees that they are talking among themselves.

"Yes," Russia answers, his heart pounding out of his chest.

"Really?" America mutters.

Russia nods. America closes his eyes, and Russia does the same. Russia leans forward, tilting his head, and their lips meet.

The second they touch, fireworks go off in Russia's head. He feels like he's flying.

His body feels fuzzy and warm and electric. He presses closer into the kiss, and America laces his fingers through his hair.

He grabs America by the hips and pulls him into his lap. Russia pushes, trying to get a taste of anything he can. America straddles him and begins licking Russia's lips.

Russia opens his mouth and electricity fills the air as America explores. Russia pushes back and returns the favor. His hands drift down, and so does the heat.

America bits him gently on the lip before pulling away. Russia feels a bit disappointed it had to end.

'More friction. More. More!'

He pulls America down. Closer.

America gives Russia a proud smile before leaning over to whisper in his ear.

"You are quite the kisser, Ruski," America mutters.

Hot air brushes against Russia's neck. His hair stands on end and he shivers.

"You're not so bad yourself," Russia replies, his eyes only half-open. He leans in for another taste.

"Hey!" someone shouts, "we're still here you know."

Russia's head jerks back in surprise. He sees Massachusetts smirking at them and Louisiana and Philippines clapping. Texas sits behind Massachusetts and looks bemused by his siblings' behavior.

"F***ing finally," Massachusetts taunts.

"What's going on?" Canada asks.

"Papa and Russia were making out," Philippines answers.

"Oh. Good for you, Aim. You got him good, eh?" Canada says with a laugh.

Russia blushes but doesn't pull away. America giggles and buries his face into Russia's chest. Russia feels a proud smile form on his face and he hugs America just a little tighter. He nuzzles the top of America's head.

"Y'all are sweet and all," Texas says, looking a little embarrassed, "but we still got a problem."

"No s*** Sherlock," Massachusetts replies, "but we can let them have a moment."

Texas glares at him and Massachusetts shrugs. Louisiana sighs and rubs her forehead.

"In other news," Massachusetts says, digging through the pockets of his pants. Russia watches curiously.

After a second of searching, Massachusetts holds something up victoriously.

"A phone," Russia says breathlessly.

The phone itself is nothing special. It's a simple flip phone. It looks very similar to the prepaid phones he had seen buying camping supplies.

"Well, does it work?" Finland asks.

"We're about to find out," Massachusetts replies.

Massachusetts flips it open and begins playing with the buttons. America gets up and walks over to the gate to get a closer look.

"Yes!" Massachusetts cheers.

Massachusetts begins typing.

The door to the block swings open.

One of the bigger guards walks in with two others at his sides. Russia freezes.

Texas steps in front of Massachusetts and Massachusetts finishes dialing.

The guards open the door and two of them enter and approach Massachusetts. A third stays behind to guard the cell door.

Texas moves to stay between the guards and Massachusetts.

"Touch either of them and you are dead," America threatens, clutching at the bars.

The guards shrug and shove Texas aside. Texas lands on his injured shoulder with a yelp. America throws out a hand, but the magic only sputters at his fingertips.

"Motherf***er!" America screams.

"NO!" Massachusetts shouts, ducking to avoid the guards' advances. He clutches the phone to his chest.

"I'm not letting you have this YOU F***ERS!" Massachusetts shouts, running around the cell, playing keep away.

Texas gets back to his feet and uses his good shoulder to buy Massachusetts time, knocking the larger of the guards to the ground.

"Yorkie-boy! Hi! Track this!" Massachusetts shouts into the phone, hopping between the cots. The smaller guard is on his tail.

Massachusetts squeals when the guard grabs his ankle. He hits the cots with a bang. However, before the guard can snatch the device, he curls up around it.

Texas runs over, and tackles the guard off of his brother, saying something Russia assumes is Spanish curses.

"Don't touch my brother!" He screams, dropping the smaller guard and shoving back the, now recovered, larger guard.

Massachusetts pulls the phone up to his ear.

"You got it?" he asks quickly.

Then, Massachusetts snaps the phone in half and launches the pieces into the nearby wall. The halves shatter on impact.

The guards growl in annoyance. Texas stays near Massachusetts, even as they leave with the salvageable pieces of the phone, leaving most of it in pieces in the cell.

"One thing's for sure, they wouldn't be getting nothing from the darn thing," Texas comments.

Massachusetts grins, and the two high five.

"Are both of you okay?" America asks.

"I'm good," Texas answers, "my shoulder just feels a little sore. Massy?"

"Don't call me that, d***head. I'm fine, dad. Much better now that the cavalry is coming."

Louisiana laughs. "They're gonna burn this whole place down," she says.

"And I for one can't wait to see them do it," America says.

Russia smiles.

America releases the bars, and with one last worried glance at Texas and Massachusetts, he walks back to the cots.

"Move your arms," he demands. Russia does so, feeling a little confused.

America sits back into Russia's lap, his legs kicked up on the rest of the cot, and Russia freezes up. His face immediately goes hot and his eyes open wide. His heart skips a few beats and rapidly pounds against his ribs.

"Meri?" Russia squeaks.

"What? You got a problem with it?" America asks, leaning his head on Russia's chest. Russia is positive he can hear just how fast his heart is pounding.

Russia shakes his head and gathers himself. He wraps his arms around America and laces his fingers together to keep his arms in place.

"Yep, definitely better than the cot," America says, tracing small shapes on the tunic over Russia's chest.

Russia grins through his mess of fuzzy feelings jumping around in his stomach.

Table of Contents

#rusame #countryhumans #statehumans #ch russia #ch america

3 notes · View notes

delimeful · 5 years

Text

the shapes in the silence (9)

warnings: violence, anger, threats, crying, fear

Chapter 9

Virgil spent the next four days locked in his room, as though to make up for all the time he’d spent out there with the others where he didn’t belong. His chest constantly seized with anxiety, a dull pain that lingered long into the night. It worked out, since he hadn’t planned on sleeping anyways.

On the evening of the fourth day, Virgil was stirred from his fugue by loud knocking on his door. He cocked his head, wondering if he’d imagined it, but no. The knocks came again, distinctly Roman in nature.

He shuffled over to the door, just barely remembering to pull on the tough guy persona. He really had been spending too much time as Puff if his first outward response to Roman was mild fondness instead of irritation and wariness.

He cracked it enough to look out with one eye. “What.”

Roman looked a little frazzled, and had that glint in his eye that meant he was gearing up for an argument. He drew himself up pompously. “Anxiety, I will only ask you this once, and I expect the truth. Have you seen Puff?”

That… had not been what he was expecting. Still, he didn’t have to lie. He’d been careful to avoid the temptation that would come with transforming. “The dragon? No.”

He wasn’t surprised when Roman remained solidly in place, eyebrows furrowed. “In that case, I’m sure you won’t object to me checking your room?”

Virgil sighed, leaning his head against the doorframe. “Why do you even care about that thing? It’s practically useless.”

Roman swelled up in the way that meant he was truly angry, and Virgil reeled back slightly, raising an eyebrow.

“Puff is not a thing! He’s a valiant and trustworthy friend, not that you’d know anything about such qualities.” Roman placed a hand on the door threateningly. “Now, let me in or face the consequences.”

Virgil bit back the automatic stinging retort, his headache growing worse by the second. Maybe it would be faster if he just… “Yeah, fine. Whatever.”

He flung the door open, crossing his arms, and Roman nearly lost his balance, eyebrows nearly to his hairline. “Truly?”

“Make it quick, Princey.” Virgil bit out, irritation flaring up again. The other Side nodded and entered the room as though worried he would change his mind.

Once inside, though, he looked around as though the decor would grow teeth and bite him. Virgil smirked. That was the desired effect.

Still, he made a point to sigh loudly as possible, leaning against his wall and trying not to look too exhausted. Sure, two days was the longest ‘Puff’ had ever vanished for, but he hadn’t expected the others to make such a fuss.

Roman searched diligently, occasionally calling out as though they were playing a game of hide and seek. Virgil stared up at his ceiling impatiently. He wanted to go back to brooding.

“Have you considered that maybe he just went back to wherever he came from?” He offered. “Doesn’t he vanish like, all the time?”

When no response came, he straightened a bit, looking over at the Prince.

Roman was standing at his desk, posture stiff, and he immediately felt nervous, trying to remember if he’d left anything incriminating there. “Roman?”

When the creative Side finally turned around, Virgil froze, staring at the small handcrafted bracelet in his hands. After all the chaos with Deceit, he’d forgotten his promise to return it. He scrambled for words, knowing how bad this looked.

“What did you do to him?” Roman said, quiet in a way that made goosebumps rise on the back of Virgil’s neck.

“Nothing! I just found that thing, it wasn’t on the dragon!”

Roman took a step forwards, and Virgil slid back despite himself, bumping against the wall. “Then why did you lie to me about it, Anxiety? I want the truth.”

Virgil stared at Roman, at the hard set to his jaw and the fury in his gaze, and knew that the truth wasn’t going to satisfy him.

… Well, it was about time he got back into his rightful role anyhow.

He pushed away from the wall, getting into Roman’s space with an aggressive scowl. “You want the truth, Princey? I found that trinket and I could feel you did something to it, something designed to work against me. I couldn’t let you hinder me, so I took it.”

Roman’s eyes widened and then narrowed again. “And Puff? Did you take it from him?”

“God, relax.” Virgil drawled, rolling his eyes. “I barely even saw the little thing, it ran away as soon as I got close enough to kick it. Cowardly, isn’t it?”

The words had barely left his mouth before a hand was gripping his collar and shoving him against the wall. His head bounced against it with a thud and he blinked away stars. Roman’s face was darkly furious, and his other hand had summoned his sword automatically.

“Don’t call him a thing. And don’t ever threaten him again, or I’ll run you through until you discorporate, monster.” Roman told him, still so eerily intense. It was such a sharp contrast to his normal over-the-top, grandiose threats that Virgil was left stunned, heart racing.

“Whatever, Princey.” He managed, breathing shallow. “I won’t mess with your little pet.”

Roman growled, shaking him slightly, but seemed to accept that it was as good as he was going to get. He stormed out of the room, taking the bracelet with him.

Virgil twitched his hand, slamming the door shut after him and then wincing at the noise. That was the last time he let his guard down around them. Deceit was right; he’d forgotten that they liked Puff, not Anxiety. And who could blame them?

He spent another few hours waiting for the headache to fade, and then accepted that the deadline for his five day grace period was rapidly approaching. He thought about the promise Roman had made to kill him, and panic swarmed his mind as he imagined how bad his reaction would be if he found out who Puff really was. His head swam, and when he opened his eyes again, he was tiny again for the first time in days.

He cast a glare at the cuff on his leg, for the first time in a while feeling resentful that it was forcing him from his room. Whatever. He was the bad guy anyways, who cared if he was living a double life that would make them all hate him even more when it was revealed? It only added to his image.

Shaking off the thoughts, he relished in the lack of tightness in his chest as he trotted down the hall. He’d forgotten how muted his anxious thoughts were in this form.

He made his way to Patton’s room first, remembering how crestfallen the Heart had looked after realizing he was part of the problem in the last video. Knowing him, he’d bottled it all up before anyone else could ask. Virgil was more than familiar with that.

The door was cracked open, and he pushed his face against it to open it further and slip inside. Patton was on the floor, surrounded by crayons and colored pencils as he scribbled halfheartedly on blank printer paper. He looked up at Virgil’s approach, lighting up. “Puff! It’s been a while, buddy!”

Virgil kneaded the plush carpeting beneath him for a moment before mustering up the courage to approach Patton and nuzzle up against his shoulder. He had never been very good at comforting, but being tiny and cute had to count for something, right?

Patton stilled, and for a moment Virgil panicked, but then the Side squealed and scooped him up, cradling him in a hug. It was... warm.

They stayed like that for a while, Patton leaning against his bed and Virgil rumbling quietly in his arms. He was on his way to finally drifting off into sleep when a drop of wetness startled him awake. He craned his neck up, his wings flaring up in concern as he took in Patton’s tear-stained face.

The emotional Side immediately looked ashamed. “Sorry, P-Puff. I’ve just been a little lonely the past couple of days. I’m fine though, I promise.”

As though to prove it, Patton visibly swallowed and forced a smile across his face. Virgil reached up with a paw, wondering how he was going to convey without words that it was okay for Patton to be upset, but before he could touch, there was an audible popping sound, and the arms under him vanished.

He hit the ground with a surprised yelp, and it only took him a moment to parse what had happened, seeing the tiny form sat next to him. Part of him was panicking about the implications of this happening to Patton as well, who hadn’t been cursed and wasn’t an out-of-place Dark Side, but most of him was focused on soothing the shocked and slightly distressed expression on Patton’s face.

Remembering how Roman had reacted, he approached slowly with his body low, crooning gently to call Patton’s gaze away from the comparatively huge furniture around them. The other Side startled.

“Puff! You’re so big! Like a real dragon!”

Virgil huffed, bumping Patton with his head. There was no trace of fear in his voice, only surprise. Feeling a surge of fondness, he chirped at Patton and brushed against him like an oversized cat.

Patton stumbled back slightly, a choked giggle spilling from his lips, and then the laugh turned into a sob. He clapped his hands over his face, shoulders shaking, and Virgil whined audibly and pressed his face to the hands until Patton moved them away.

“I’m sorry, I-I don’t know why-“

Patton cut off as Virgil bumped foreheads with him, trying to convey through gaze alone that he didn’t approve of Patton’s apology. He sniffled, and then began to cry in earnest, wrapping his arms around Virgil in a hug as his body shook with the force of it. He muttered half-coherent sentences, apologies mostly, and Virgil purred louder in response, butting his head against Patton’s chest.

He waited the worst of it out patiently, until Patton was back to small, hiccuping sobs and exhausted eyes. “Gonna pick you up.” He said, except it came out as a rumble-chirp combination. Worth a shot.

Still, Patton didn’t protest when he carefully bit into the back of his shirt and lifted him up, trotting over to the bed and crouching to scale it. Once up, he found the coziest pocket of blankets and carried Patton over to it, setting him down and curling around him like a dragon croissant.

“Nap time?” Patton asked, leaning against him. “That sounds like a good idea. I always sleep best when you’re next to me.”

He closed his red rimmed eyes, unaware of Virgil’s flustered expression, and in moments was asleep. Virgil curled up tighter, as though he could protect Patton from ever feeling all bottled-up like that again.

It wasn’t fair. Patton did so much, managing emotions and morality alike. He was allowed to feel things for himself, even if it was inconvenient for the others. Even if it made Thomas sad. It was his role to regulate a vast majority of emotions, not just the ones that made the others happy.

He’d known the others hated him for doing his job, but he’d never thought that Patton would face something similar. Surely, Thomas would understand that he couldn’t be unrelentingly positive all the time?

He sighed. He’d have to figure out some way to get the others to realize, to offer Patton the comfort he would no doubt never accept from Anxiety. Until then, he’d just have to keep a better eye out for him. If that meant sleeping here and risking reverting to normal form, well… it was worth the risk. Besides, Patton was the nicest of the three. If he found out, maybe he would just be privately disgusted and not tell the others so long as Virgil left them alone.

It was the best he could hope for. He sighed, settling down to watch over Patton’s sleeping form for the night.

#g/t #giant/tiny #sanders sides #ts virgil #tiny dragon virgil #ts patton #ts roman #writing #my writing #tsits #the shapes in the silence #whew. we made it boyz #edit: corrected the '5 days vs 3 days' error

461 notes · View notes