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captainjanegay · 3 years

Note

hhhhhh i could literally pick any number but uhhhh. clintasha and… i'm just gonna pick a random number or i'll explode… 17?? aaa thank you <3

Hello lovely anon ♥ I really hope you’re still around and I’m sorry you had to wait for so long! Hope you’ll like it.

ask to be unbroken | 864 words | Clintasha | Hurt/Comfort | Ao3

It’s way past 3AM and Clint is still sitting on the couch in the living room. He stares absent-mindedly at whatever house renovation programme is on at the moment and the TV volume is turned all the way down so he won't wake Natasha. It's not like he minds since his hearing aids lay abandoned in his bedroom. He doesn't use them much around the flat and Natasha's gotten used to throwing stuff at him whenever she wants his attention.

She's very good at throwing stuff.

Clint opens the pizza box laying on the coffee table in front of him. Sadly, no more slices have magically appeared since he ate the last one an hour ago. With a sigh, he stretches until his back cracks. Maybe it's time to go to bed and pretend to sleep like a normal person would.

He's about to get up and head to his bedroom down the hall when a flicker of light on his right catches his attention. Turning his head, he notices that it comes from Natasha’s bedroom. A worried wrinkle appears on his forehead. Without a second thought, he gets up and walks to her door. He knocks softly and when he doesn’t hear the answer - pun intended - he puts his hand on the door knob.

“I’m coming in,” he calls so he won’t startle her and pushes the door open.

Natasha is sitting on the side of her bed, facing away from Clint. Her head is hanging low and even from his spot in the doorway Clint can tell that her shoulders are shaking.

“Nat? Are you OK?” Clint asks slowly, which is probably a stupid question since she’s clearly not OK.

However, Nat being Nat she doesn’t even turn around and only signs over her shoulder, spelling out the word “fine”.

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you not to lie about your feelings, for a change,” Clint sighs.

Her shoulders jerk a bit and Clint really hopes it’s with a laugh and not that he made her cry. Before he can apologise, just in case, she moves her arms, unwrapping them from around her middle and raises them up to her face. A second later, she shifts on the bed. She turns to face Clint and when she looks up at him, there’s a smirk on her face, although it looks more shaken than cocky this time.

“Maybe it would, who knows,” she signs. Her movements are stiff, as if she’s trying really hard to keep herself from shaking. “Better safe than sorry.”

“For the smartest woman that I’ve ever known, you really are quite dumb sometimes.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow at that and in normal circumstances Clint would feel the little sting of fear in his spine. To be honest, he still does — it’s Natasha after all, she can be terrifying at all times. But Clint smiles, watching as her expression softens.

“Can I come in?” he asks quietly.

A moment passes as Natasha watches him carefully, touching the tip of her forefinger to her thumb — the only nervous gesture he’s been able to notice her doing in all the years they’ve known each other.

He can only guess what kind of nightmares have woken her up this time. He knows enough about her to know they must've been horrible, but not nearly enough to know how badly. Clint wouldn't be surprised if she actually got even less of the famous goodnight sleep than he did.

Everybody has their demons. Natasha's just very good at hiding hers.

Eventually, she gives a small nod so Clint walks over and sits on the other side of the bed. He opens his arms in a welcoming gesture and raises an eyebrow in question. This time Natasha almost doesn’t hesitate.

She moves towards the middle of the bed and Clint is already there to catch her and hold her in a tight embrace. He feels a warm puff of breath on his chest when she lets out a small sigh.

They stay like this for a few minutes, before Clint shifts, laying down and tugging Natasha with him. She doesn’t resist in the slightest, curling up closer to him as she gets comfortable.

Clint is not, nor has he ever been good with words or emotions or any of that crap. It's too tiring, it's too messy and usually doesn't end well. But this? This he can do. He can make people laugh. He can help people feel better when they need it. He can comfort people even if they refuse to ask for it or admit they are struggling. He can try and be there for the people and tell them without actually telling them that they're the most important people in his life and he has never met any other people as incredible as them and he'd do anything to keep them safe and happy.

And by "people" he might actually mean Natasha.

But when she leans to place a kiss to the underside of his jaw before she rests her head on his chest, her palm over his heart, Clint thinks that maybe people just know and it won't end badly this time.

spots to kiss

#clintasha #clint barton x natasha romanoff #clintasha fic #clintasha fanfiction #ficlet #again - sorry it took me a while!#i hope it was worth the wait and you'll like it #thank you so much for sending it! ♥#it was my first clintasha #excluding one 3 sentence fic i did #so i was worried if i'll write them well #still don't know if i did lol #anyways!#thank u again I love u I hope you'd see this fhkajda #anon #ask #my writings

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tcheschirewrites · 3 years

Text

Hhhhhh and because I am In A Good Place right now, let’s have a little bonus short. You want to know what Justin and Jen have been up to, those two wiliest of snakes, while RC and Dick have been in Japane? Well, let’s find out!

(Considering the length - I accidentally 1.7k - and technically it’s plot-advancing, I guess we can consider this chapter 20.5? lol)

The dim lighting of so many of the gastropubs in the city gave him a headache. Like, sure. He understood the ambiance, along with the pulsing music at just a few decibels shy of a migraine, and yes, all right, he had spent his fair share of time in joints with far lower lighting and beats with far deeper bass, but in his regular day to day, the need to hobknob frustrated him.

Justin adjusted his tie, tugging it further away from his Adam’s apple.

From her seat across the table, texting Richard or checking her emails or scrolling Instagram or whatever it was she was doing when she was pretending she wasn’t paying attention, Jennifer scowled at him. She reached over to him, fussing lightly with his lapels, the creases of his shirt against his slouched posture.

“Stop doing that,” she chided, sliding the knot of the tie back to its position against his throat. “Can you seriously not keep still for two hours? You’re incredible.”

“This is what happens when I don’t have you to take care of me Jen,” he groused, discreetly loosening his tie just slightly when she looked away for half a moment.

“Can it,” she replied, sipping neatly from her water. “I think I see him coming.”

Out of reflex, Justin tightened his tie, running a hand over his hair. “You’re sure we’ve got everything we need this time?”

Jen glanced back at him over her shoulder, her eyes aglow in the low lighting of the restaurant, reminding him so very much of the Jennifer he had met during university, and his chest ached. “Oh yeah,” she said, and her tone was so self-assured he allowed himself a glimmer of a real smile.

His father strode up to the table, seating himself without waiting for a greeting. “I’ve spoken with Mr. Kaiba. His terms are outstanding. I hope you’ve decided as one that this acquisition is well within business interests?”

Justin was practiced at swallowing the dark bile of his father’s reptilian cruelty – Jen less so, though her tenure as a legal counselor had left her well equipped to don the proper mask for the situation. “You know, pops, we have. We’ve spoken with Dick Grant and our Chief Marketing Officer, and we all agreed that a total sale at these terms was an offer we couldn’t refuse.”

“Justin, you know I don’t abide movie references.”

Raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, mostly to field Jennifer leaping across the table to strangle his father, Justin allowed himself a chuckle. “I know, old man, but I think you’ll find it’s appropriate, considering the situation. We nailed that Japanese bastard hook, line, and sinker.”

“That’s wonderful news. I’ve read the proposal, and the extra numbers packet you provided me earlier. Third Star stands to make quite a bit of money from the sale of the market shares.”

“Fuck yeah, they do.” Justin’s lips curled into a grin at the furrow in his father’s brow. He knew exactly what was going through the scaly fucker’s mind – Justin had never been so crass in his presence before, never stooped so low as to be anything but formal in front of James. “As my C Suite are majority shareholders, I’m real happy for the decision they made. Gonna net them a shitload of a nest egg. And you know what? They earned it.”

There was an intense silence, obstructed only briefly by the server swinging by the table to gather a drink order from James only to be met with a brusque wave of his hand; he did not take his eyes off of his son’s face.

The silence lasted a beat longer, then; “You mean you earned it. Second-person plural. As CEO of the company, you’ve invested in the largest amount of shares – “

“Ahhh, yeah,” Justin cut him off smoothly, leaning back against the booth and threading his fingers to a basket behind his head. “About that.”

Jennifer stepped in here, digging into her bag for a brief moment before retrieving a manila folder. “I’m sorry to say, Mr. Carriger, sir, but Justin is actually no longer eligible to his rights as a shareholder in the event of a buyout.”

James did not take his eyes from Justin’s face. “You don’t say.”

“Mm.” She flicked open the folder expertly, spreading a couple of key documents over the table before situating herself back into her chair, taking another dainty sip of her water. “In the company bylaws, section thirteen article D, in the event of a buyout, any shareholder who has brought direct hard to an employee must forfeit the market value of those shares.”

The disgust in James’ eyes was palpable, and here he finally turned away from his son with a curl of his lip, rounding his attention to Jennifer. “I think you must be forgetting section sixteen, article B, that any executive who has lost their shares in the event of an accident will cede the market value of those shares to their next of kin.”

“Accident?” Jennifer batted her lashes at him, playing coy, playing dumb in a way that Justin knew she had learned in her years at law school and had only heard about second-hand. “Which accident are we talking about, sir?”

Verging on the edge of his patience, James replied, “The train accident – now, Justin is not directly responsible for the accident on the KaibaCorporation bullet train, but it can be acknowledged that his decisions as Chief Executive Officer are what led to your fiancé and that poor woman’s injuries. It’s my understanding they did not seek extraordinary compensation, and their dedication to the company is to be acknowledged, but – “

Jennifer let out a cooing laugh, grating and pretty and eminently false. “Oh, no, sir. To my understanding, neither party involved in the train accident in Domino were seeking punitive damages for their injuries. But that has absolutely no bearing on the sexual assault your son was involved in earlier this week with his subordinate, the Chief Marketing Officer of Third Star Gaming.”

Justin had to hand it to her: he had never seen his father so speechless, and even from his position as an observer, he had to crack a smile.

“He what.”

The smile plastered on Jennifer’s face widened, all glimmering teeth and threatening promise. “Oh yes, sir. It was reported to me only hours after it occurred, and I confirmed it with the victim shortly thereafter. Her statement is here, if you care to read it. I had it transcribed this afternoon for your convenience.”

From the mutinous look on James’ usually cool face, he did not care to read it. His cheeks began to spot with red, and Justin thought he saw his father’s pulse jump in his neck.

He retained his composure, though, turning back to his son, who raised his brows and shoulders in a gesture of feigned helplessness. “I find it difficult to believe that you would be so careless as to let your libido get the better of you, Justin. At such a critical juncture.”

The accusation was plain, and Justin said nothing, nodding briefly at Jen.

“Now, as you are aware, sir, pursuant to article 13 section D is the following addendum – “ She cleared her throat before continuing; “’If any executive person or persons from party A – that is, Third Star, as specified in line two of the company bylaws – bring egregious bodily harm or otherwise inflict considerable pain and suffering, then during the event of a complete corporate acquisition those shares would not transfer to next of kin (see: article ten, section K et al), but would instead be split amongst the remaining executives of party A.”

Jennifer smiled prettily at his father, and Justin had to admire the irony of the picture. “Now, I’m sure you’d agree that a confessed sexual assault falls into the category of both bodily harm and pain and suffering, but – “ She paused here to dig into her purse for another manila folder, this time much thicker, and slapped it onto the table in front of James with such force that the silverware rattled. “Even if you don’t agree, it’s all right, because we’ve checked with insurance and HR.”

James did not move, instead staring at the thick folder before him with such intensity that Justin thought it might catch fire. Finally, he raised his sharp blue eyes to his son’s face, and Justin had to wonder at the electricity in those eyes – eyes he had so long been spellbound by, locked into place by some wretched sense of duty.

“You son of a bitch.”

Under any other circumstances, Justin would have seized the other man by his collar, throttled him, laid him out with a cold cock to the nose – but considering the situation, he could only laugh. “Hey, now, I don’t think it’s right to speak that way about the dead. I dunno about Irish culture, but I know for sure mom’s people wouldn’t like you talking about her that way.”

“I’m not talking about her, you raving buffoon. I’m talking about you. You absolutely incompetent monkey. What on earth were you thinking?”

What was he thinking? He’d had a primer on the bylaws when his father had installed him as CEO of this venture, but after the train accident in the spring, Jennifer had sat him down and gone over them with him in depth, and he realized how stupid everything was. How so little was dictated by fate, and how if he wanted to have any say, he would have to seize control of what little he had. There was no evidence to support his deepest of thoughts, of course, the suspicions and conspiracies he’d concocted in the middle of the night when only his bottle of cheap tequila was there to keep him company.

But he’d had a gut feeling like this before.

And this time, he would not allow someone he loved to die for it.

“What can I say dad?” he finally said, spreading his hands wide into a shrug, his grin turning sharp. “I never was good with your money.”

#culture shock #ch: justin #ch: jennifer #i've said it before and i'll say it over and over until i am hoarse:#i love justin's backstory #i could write an entire story just for him #there are some Hints that i am dropping here #that we will go further into in arc three #but i just wanted to get this out and posted

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tartagilicious · 5 years

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Maybe a roommate au with fluff and the sentence starter "I wish I could relates but only a dumbass like you could do this" with Eugene?? Hopefully that doesn't sound confusing I'm having trouble wording it right--

hhhHHH

“Eugene..”

You trailed off with obvious distaste as your best friend recalled the events he’d been through. He looked sheepish enough, avoiding your gaze as you just stared, yet you still couldn’t help but laugh.

“I wish I could relate but only a dumbass like you could do this,”

He groaned as he slumped onto the table, his words muffled by his sweatshirt as he said, “You don’t have to tell me that, ___. I just want to know how to fix it.”

Your eyes went down to the coffee sitting in front of you, and you sighed. Eugene had been your roommate since the first year of college, and it was safe to say that you knew him better than anyone by now. That’s why you immediately knew that he needed your help when he offered to take you to your favourite cafe.

It wasn’t like he didn’t pay for things, but he wasn’t someone who was keen on splurging like you were.

“It’s up to her.” You said, taking a sip of your coffee as he raised his head to look at you.

You rose a brow at his surprised reaction. “What? You can’t go over to a girl’s house and throw up on her! No matter how much soju you had, you idiot.”

His head dropped again, and you sighed, twirling your straw with your tongue as you said, “What did you think I was going to tell you? I’m not magic, you know.”

“You might as well be.” He mumbled, resting his chin on his arms to look straight at you with a pout. “You’re too good at this relationship stuff, while I just threw up on someone.”

You forced a smile and took another sip of your drink, putting it down again as you avoided his eyes.

It was true, you were definitely better when it came to relationships between the two of you. But, that was only because you’d spent so much time thinking about one specific person that you would be disappointed if you weren’t an expert on them after the fact.

Yet, no matter how many hints you gave to your oblivious and relationship-troubled best friend, he never got it. It hurt so much to go through his mishaps with other girls when the one girl that loved him more than anyone had been sitting in front of him for years, laughing with him and giving him someone to lean with through every stage life threw at you.

Eugene just didn’t seem to get it; he never had.

“Well, what do I do? ___, I want to try again.”

“So, you like her, hm?” You teased him lightly, your lips curving up into a sly smile. “Has someone got a crush?”

Eugene sat back with a blush dusting his cheeks that was a clear as day yes. You kept your smile expertly as you rested your chin on your plan and leaned forward.

“If you liked her you should’ve recognised your limit, Eugene.” You said slowly, not being able to help a laugh as his expression melted into an embarrassed smile.

“___! You’re supposed to be helping me, not making fun of me, you hoe.”

Your laughs both just grew louder as you sat there teasing each other back and forth, before you finally calmed down minutes later and gave him the serious advice he was looking for.

“Seriously though, Eugene. Just text her and apologise. If she’s right for you, things will go from there. Still, don’t count on anything, okay?”

You watched his eyes light up with a smile, as if your warning simply didn’t exist. “Are you sure? Is that it?”

You shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, for now.”

“Man,” He leaned forward on his elbows. “Girls are just so hard to figure out.”

You snorted at the ironic words.

“Yeah, girls are some confusing creatures, alright.”

His face shifted again as he whined, “Don’t say it like that!”

The rest of your night at the cafe was filled with more light-hearted things on your part, and despite the official reason for meaning, you both went back to your shared apartment feeling good.

But, then he pulled you into the living room about an hour later to help him construct a text to the girl he’d been so caught up on.

The mood was ruined easily, like the drop of a pin .

So, there you sat, your face free of makeup and lightly coated with an acne mask peering over his shoulder as he typed. You were tired and began to rest your chin on his shoulder eventually, sighing at the time it took for the boy to do something so simple.

“If it takes this long to say sorry to a girl about something like this,” You said, picking up your head and sitting back. “Do you think she’s really right for you?”

He was silent for a few moments before turning his head back to look at you.

“I did it for you.”

You went silent.

Eugene was right, he had done something very similar to you when you’d first met at a frat party.

You’d gotten separated with the friends you’d come with and had quite literally stumbled across him. He’d spilled his drink on you in the clumsiest and cutest way, and you couldn’t help but find yourself curious about him even back then.

“I hope you didn’t freak out this much about apologising to me.” You joked softly, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “I definitely wasn’t worth it.”

He raised a brow as he gestured to the apartment around you and to you yourself. “You’re my best friend, ___. You were totally worth it, whether you like it or not.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but the mood was ruined again in no time flat as he said, “Which is why I have to seize this chance to remake history!”

He grinned as he briefly flashed the phone screen to you before pressing send. But as he switched the phone off and turned back to you, your couldn’t help the confused curve of your brows.

“You’re not even going to make me proofread it?”

“Nope,” Eugene said this confidently, sitting back next to you and slinging an arm around your shoulder. “I’m sure it’ll work.”

You smiled as you leaned into him. “Whatever you say. Wanna watch Netflix now that your pity party is over?”

He huffed. “First of all, fuck you. Second of all, yes.”

Everything you did with him was always easy; after all, there was no reason for it to be anything else. Even just the way you didn’t mind your legs tangling when you sat on the couch, the way you’d casually share drinks, or how you could tell each other anything — you lived your lives together without hardships, but the things that really jeopardised it put the most weight on you alone.

You were in love with him, but had never said a thing. You thought that you would’ve learned your lesson by then, knowing that everything you never had the guts to do had always come back to bite you in the end. But you were foolish in thinking that this time would be any different.

“___!’

Eugene came sliding into the kitchen on his socks one morning, capturing your attention with a dumb grin as you stood in front of the stove. Your eyes flitted to the phone in his hand and back up to him as you returned,

“..Eugene?”

“Guess what?!”

He seemed awfully happy for the early time, not catching onto the fact that you were barely even awake yet as he continued to wave his phone around. Then, deciding that he wouldn’t even wait for your reply, he walked up to you and thrust the screen in your face.

‘don’t worry about it, really! honestly, something like that also happened to me a while back, so I understand. could we maybe meet again sometime to talk more about it?’

Your heart sank to your stomach like a stone in a pitiful koi pond as you read the texts. The woman he’d gone out with had forgiven him alright, and it seemed like your cycle of heartbreak was about to restart yet again.

But, as always, a habitual smile raised to your lips as you forced yourself to push out, “That’s great, Eugene! I told you she would come around, didn’t I?”

He grinned giddily, bringing a hint of a genuine smile to your face as he threw his arms around you in a bear-sized hug of thanks. You buried your face in his shoulder as you held him back, listening to him silently as he began murmuring about his plans with the other woman to you.

It took all of your resolve not to break down into tears right then and there, but you stood firmly for the sake of him. You stood firmly because that was all you could do.

Days went by after that, and you saw significantly less of your roommate with each. Knowing he was off with the woman when he wasn’t in class, you tried your best not to think about it. One night, Eugene came home only slightly later than usual, though, a change to the previous days where he’d arrive home hours late.

“___?”

His voice sounded tired as he walked inside, the sounds of him kicking off his shoes filling the small entryway. You looked up from where you sat on the couch, previously immersed in playing a game on your phone before you noticed his sullen expression.

“Eugene?” Your brows knit delicately. “Are you okay?”

Wordlessly, he just came and sat next to you on the couch, leaning to the side into the cushion as he pulled down his cap to cover his face. You wanted to say something to him, but all you could do was stare. You hadn’t the slightest idea of what could possibly be bothering him, and even if he was your best friend, you had no idea where to start.

“…Eugene?”

You reached out hesitantly, taking the bill of his hat and lifting it up to get a view of what he was trying to hide. Fat tears ran down his cheeks, and though soundless, his eyes held enough pain for you to feel it too.

Wiping them away with the pad of your thumb, you whispered, “What happened?”

“I should’ve listened to you.’ he mumbled, bringing his sleeve up to cover his nose as he looked away. “I shouldn’t have counted on anything.”

“God, what did she do?”

“..She only wanted to use me to get her ex back. ___-, that’s why she was so forgiving, she, she just needed me for that. I’m so stupid-”

“No,” You cut him off. “You’re not stupid, she’s just a bitch! I don’t know how she couldn’t see anything in you, Eugene. You’d be, like, the perfect boyfriend. He sighed, his cheeks flushing.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.”

You shook your head, whispering, “I’m not, Eugene.”

A few beats of silence passed before he turned his head away, forcing you to let go of his cap as he took it off and put it to the side.

“Don’t say that,” he mumbled. “You’re just going to go and get my hopes up so I can go and mess everything up all over again.”

“It’s not a lie, Eugene. Take it from someone who knows you, and also lives with you. You’d be a great boyfriend, and it means nothing that one girl-”

“More than one girl, ___. Over and over again, something like this happens.” He interrupted, his eyes flickering back over to yours as he joked deprecatingly. “You’re the only one I’ve managed to charm enough to stay by my side.”

You took his chin in your hands without thinking and pulled him back to face you before staring him right in the eyes. Making sure he was paying attention, you tried your best to convey what you needed him to know.

“You haven’t charmed me at all, Eugene. I’m here because, well—”

You paused before you let the crucial details slip, but that answer obviously wasn’t enough for Eugene. His hands shot up to hold yours in place on top of his before you thought about moving away, turning the tables and forcing you to look right at him instead.

“Because why, ___?”

You bit your lip, nerves swelling in your throat as you laughed pitifully.

“Because, Eugene.” You whispered. “I love you.”

His hands loosened on top of yours, and for a moment, you thought he was going to let go. But, instead, he threw his arms around you in a hug, effectively pushing you down onto the sofa behind you as your hands dropped from his face.

“Eug-!”

The words left your mouth in a hurry, but before you knew it, his lips were on yours. A effective silencer, you thought.

Your eyes were wide with surprise, but after feeling the odd sincerity in his actions, you weaved your arms around him and kissed him back. It was an action filled with heat; an entire person’s worth of undone fire that was begging to be unravelled. And in your capable hands, the coil was released with ease.

Fingers began to tangle in each other’s hair as the kiss only grew to be more demanding, small gasps slipping out from you before you thought to silence them. Eugene didn’t seem to mind them, though, even seeming to welcome them as his tongue slipping past your lips only warranted more.

Breathing hard, you gripped a fistful of his hair as your tongues swirled together in a desperate tell that something still wasn’t right.

It physically pained you to move away, but knowing it was at least better than the defining silence of your naivety, you stopped him. You wanted an explanation before anything else, because as far as you were concerned, he had just kissed you as an in the moment decision.

“Eugene,” You whispered, your breaths still laboured. “Why..?”

He leaned his forehead against yours as he rasped, “You’re such an idiot, ___. Are you asking me why?”

You nodded hesitantly, not daring to break your eye contact.

“I love you, and I’ve been waiting so long for you and your slow brain to realise that I—”

You cut him off from the last discernible sentence he would say that night, smiling as you finally kissed him wholly.

—