#for like three years and passed just as the doctors thought she would go into remission | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reiderwriter · 2 months

Note

Hi Kacie!! Now that your requests are open... Could I request a smutty fic where Spencer finds out reader has a not-so-common sensitive spot (like her legs, hair, arms, whatever body part you want). Maybe he finds out kinda in a public setting after she gets all flustered and wants to keep pushing to test his theory?? You can take as much inspo from this as you want<3

(If this emoji's not taken)-💃 anon

A/N: Hello! Sorry for going MIA for a while there. It was the beginning of a new school year here in SK, so I've been really busy! I've been chipping away at this one little by little, and it's finally done! I hope you enjoy it ♡

Warnings; Smut, 18+ Minors DNI, case details, misogyny from a bartender in the opening scene, Semi-public sexual experimentation, edging, PinV sex, use of pet names (good girl), slight degradation, cum play, etc.

Masterlist

The back of the bar was dimly lit as you walked through it, keeping pace with your teammate as you kept one eye on the shady inhabitants of the bar.

You'd been sent - with Spencer of all people - to ask the local dive bar staff about suspicious regulars. A fact that didn't exactly take into account his general lack of intimidating looks and your status as the newest member of the team.

A trial by fire if you'd ever seen one.

You tried your best not to stick out like a sore thumb, but the people in these parts could spot a Fed from a mile away. And though Spencer was remarkably pipe-cleaner-like, they'd certainly recognised enough FBI in him to clam up upon your entrance.

“We got some visitors, I see. What can I be getting you, little lady?” The barman greeted you as you reached the first stool at the counter, a patronizing smile on his moustache clad lips.

“If it's okay, we'd like to ask you some questions. I'm Agent Y/N with the FBI. This is my partner, Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“You're a Fed? Now, why would you bother doing all that hard work when you could be warming my bed, girl. It's definitely more honest and satisfying work.”

The way the man leered at you over the counter has you freezing momentarily. Your instincts were saying fight, but you held your tongue just long enough to not ruin any rapport your team could build with locals.

“I'm flattered, but already spoken for I'm afraid. Have you seen any suspicious men in here in the last six months, one that would pass through only semi-regularly, maybe with a few female companions, though never the same.”

Professionalism at the cost of your peace of mind was going to be a hard learn for you as you grit your teeth and swallowed the bile in your throat.

He just continued to leer at you as he dried up beer glasses.

“You're looking for a man who likes cheap whores? Maybe you are in the market for a career change after all.”

That was about all you could take, and luckily, Spencer Reid was well aware.

Quickly grabbing you by the wrist, he pulled you behind him defensively and leaned over the bar, his voice low and somewhat chilling.

“Disrespect my partner like that again, and I'll have you charged with aiding and abetting a murderer who has kidnapped and ended the lives of three local girls. Local girls whose fathers you're more than likely acquainted with, who absolutely have multiple acres of property and just enough bullets to put you in the ground.”

The blood rushed to your ears at his voice, but the light grip of your wrist held you in place indefinitely.

All the fight left your body, as you found yourself coming dangerously close to melting into Spencer in relief.

He forced the man to answer some more basic questions, but it wasn't as if you could hear them. He stroked a quick thumb back and forth across your wrist as all the thoughts fled your head, and the words fell asleep on your tongue, resting there until he released you from his grip.

You'd known that the area was slightly sensitive for a while, having accidentally brushed up against things and felt serious chills shoot up your spine. What you hadn't known was that it was that kind of sensitivity.

Though, in all honesty, you hadn't exactly known that you could feel that kind of excitement for Spencer either. You just hoped he wouldn't notice. That much.

Having finished his line of questioning and reiterating his threat, he moved his hand from your wrist to the small of your back and adeptly guided you from the restaurant and out of the line of vision of every pair of eyes in the place.

“Are you okay?” He asked when he finally got you to the car, voice still quiet and low, and slightly too close to let you fully relax.

“Peachy. He talked to you at least.” You turned away from him and began opening the passenger side door.

“Nothing new or useful, though. Your bpm is high,” he joined you in the car, putting on his seat belt while you completely let go of yours, letting it zip back into itself.

“My… my what?”

“Your bpm is high. Your heart was beating so fast,” he said, reaching over you to help you reclip it. “Were you nervous, Y/n? Or just sensitive?”

“Your mouth is entirely too close to mine to be asking that question,” you breathed out, cursing your eyes from stealing a glance at his lips.

Only five minutes into this sudden attraction to Spencer Reid, and you were already mortified and extremely horny. In equal measures.

“What would be the appropriate distance to ask that, then?”

“I hear Australia is lovely this time of year.”

He chuckled softly at you as he finished adjusting your seat and then moved far enough away to let the ground swallow you in peace.

Never one to leave well enough alone, it seemed that Spencer took it upon himself to experiment with you for weeks on end after that.

He'd constantly ask you to pass him papers, pens, anything that'd allow him to run a finger across the inside of your wrist. On more than one occasion you'd caught him staring into your eyes as he did it, and it took a nearly embarrassing amount of time to realise he was checking how dilated your pupils were before and after.

When he'd gathered enough data for that line of questioning, he moved on to bigger things.

You knew you were in danger of seriously falling head over ads when he offered to walk you to your motel door in a seedier case location.

You, an FBI agent with a real-life gun and badge and job at Quantico, and you were jumping at the chance to have a man walk you to your room. You'd have been embarrassed if you weren't burning with anticipation.

You hoped that like every other man in history, he was gently trying to insinuate himself into your bedroom, and by extension, your bed and more intimate places.

So you were more than slightly disappointed when he started wishing you a good night. All of the aforementioned disappointment fled your body, though, when he picked up your hand and dropped a kiss to the inside of your left wrist, repeating the action on the right before wordlessly retreating.

You stared at his back as he walked purposefully down the corridor and into his own room, leaving you to pick up your jaw and retreat to your room to lick your wounds.

You wished it was him picking you up instead and found your brain imagining just that as your fingers dropped between your thighs that night.

It became a case tradition for him to tease you like this, kissing your wrist after innocently walking you back to your hotel room. The others thought it chivalrous, almost cute and childlike, a form of courting that graced the good old days. They didn't know he grabbed you by the waist and held you against his hard-on every time you rode an elevator together. They didn't know his tongue darted out a few times to lick your wrist on occasion. They didn't know how you once mentally begged him to bite you there and how you shuddered as he ran his teeth along the vein there.

Spencer was coming to the crux of his research regarding how far he could push you before you cracked. Only now, it was how far he could get without pushing you against a wall and jumping your bones.

You knew you were in danger when he offered to escort you home after a case.

“To walk you to your door, you know? Like always,” he smiled at you, the picture of innocence as you became damp between your thighs.

“Sure. Yeah, okay, I'll get my keys, let's go.”

You weren't sure how no one else noticed that Spencer didn't have a car to drive himself home after taking you to yours. You were unsure if they'd connect the dots between him escorting you home and his own apartment being 45 minutes in the opposite direction.

Luckily for you, you could keep your hands at 2 and 10 the entire journey, away from his grasp. If he'd have touched you right then, you're sure you'd have driven both of you right off the road into a ditch.

Or a pedestrian.

The drive was calm, but pulling up forced your heart to your throat and kept it suspended there, almost like it was frozen at gunpoint, a deer in the headlights.

“We're here.”

“Great. Let me walk you in.”

In. You swallowed hard, wishing very much for him to be inside of your apartment.

“Okay.”

Stepping into the elevator a few minutes later, he waited mere seconds after the doors began closing to pull you into his personal space. He was hard, he was so hard once again and his cock was now straining against your ass.

“Spencer, we need to talk about t-that,” he stroked your wrist as his hand splayed across your stomach, holding you firmly against him.

“About what, Y/N?”

He pulled your arm up almost as if inspecting the wrist for imperfections, and your head melted back into his chest. Why was this elevator so goddamn slow?

You sprung out quickly when the doors pinged open finally and moved straight towards your door without a glance back, but you felt him close behind you.

“Y/N, wait for me, wait, I'm sorry,” he called out quietly as you forced your keys into the lock as fast as possible.

“Y/N, I'm sorry if I stepped over the line, I didn't mean too, please look at me-”

You got the door open and turned back around to grab a firm hold of his tie and yank him into the apartment behind you.

“Months. Spencer, you have been edging me for months, and I am sick of it.” You half growled at him, slamming the door behind him and then pushing him up against it.

“I can feel how hard you are right now. Obviously you want to fuck me, so why aren't you?”

His face went from shocked to intrigued, then shot straight for mischievous as he cracked a smile, and you felt his hands wrap around your wrists slowly.

Before you could react, he had your positions swapped, your arms above your head pinned at the wrists and his breath hitting your neck as he answered.

“I wanted to see how long it would take you to break.”

Your lips leapt to his, hitting him angrily as you searched for more pleasure in his touch, one leg pushing up to wrap around his waist as his hips settled between yours.

He met you at your level, giving just as good as he got.

“Call it scientific curiosity,” he murmured, lips trailing down your neck, but hips pinning you in closer to the wall, keeping you trapped there. He made his way along your shoulders and then pressed light teasing kisses up your arms while rutting his hips into you, dry humping you against the wall as your eyes glazed over in lust.

“You react when I touch you, you heat up. But it gets worse if I touch you here, right Y/N?” His lips again found your wrist, but this time his teeth grazed across the veins he found there.

“You get so horny now when I look at you. I can grab your wrist and make you beg for my cock, isn't that right?” His mouth was back by your ear as your legs went limp under you. He still had you caged against your own door, and you had no idea what to say to that.

Part of you wanted to protest purely because of the rough tone of voice he was using. The other wanted to flood to the floor and tell him yes, beg him to just fuck you and be done with this pure torture.

“I asked you a question, Y/N. Isn't that right?”

“Yes, yes, Spencer fuck, I don't care anymore, yes. You can touch me and I'll react to you, please help me.”

“Good girl.”

He pulled away instantly, but his hands wrapped firmly still around your wrists. Slowly, he pulled you towards him as he slowly walked backwards further into your apartment. You thought for a second about just throwing yourself back into his arms, to close the space he'd created again between the two of you.

You tried it, lifted your head slightly, begging his lips to return there, but he held firm. Each step was an agony of need, and you fought to hold your tongue, begging yourself not to beg him so pathetically.

“Such a good girl, I'm holding you by the wrist, and you won't even protest about how slow I'm being.”

Your mouth fell open as you registered his words.

“You're being an ass.”

“What was that? You want me to touch your ass?”

“Spencer!”

“Don't worry, we'll get to that.”

His back finally made contact with your bedroom door, and you stumbled forward into his chest as he kept his grip even still.

“You're going to listen, right? You're going to listen to me and do what I ask you to do, aren't you?”

You wavered again. He'd been teasing you, but now he was serious, his tone light and his voice soft, but you could feel the strength in his grip. You could feel his arousal at your hip.

“Yes, Spencer.”

“Good. Get on your knees on the bed. No clothes.”

He released your hands and opened the door for you as you tried your best to walk forward calmly.

By the time you reached the bed, you'd removed most of your clothes, but you hesitated at the underwear as he watched from behind you. A quick glance over your shoulder saw him palming his cock through his pants, still leaning against the door he'd opened for you.

He was getting off watching you, and you were frozen in arousal.

“No clothes, Y/N.”

“I know.”

“Underwear is clothing.”

“I know that, too, Spencer.”

“Then take it off.”

You shot a quick glare over your shoulder as you unclaimed your bra behind your back and threw it to the floor.

“On my knees, right?” You said, climbing on the bed still clad in your panties.

“I also said no clothes.”

“If you're so invested in my state of dress, how about you come and help me rectify it.”

His lips twitched in small annoyance, but he followed the trail of clothes you'd left, ridding himself of his tie, shirt, jacket, and pants along the way.

He climbed on the bed slowly behind you, not opposite as you'd presumed he would. His hands reached out to touch your back before slowly sliding all the way up to your neck and pushing your upper body down into the sheets.

You let out a little squeak in shock, but let his hands guide you, feeling especially pliant when he grabbed your hands and crossed them behind your back.

“Maybe the panties can stay. I'll just decorate them afterwards,” he said, and with that, he pulled your hips up with his free hand guiding you into the position he wanted you in, and pushed two fingers into you.

“Fuck, Spencer-” your brain short circuited as he pumped the digits slowly in and out of you, setting an agonizing pace but holding you so tight that.you couldn't even press your cunt back into his fingers.

“What? What is it, Y/N? Tell me how you feel?”

“Feel good, so good Spencer, p-please more.”

He shifted slowly behind you, pulling his fingers out almost completely before pushing them back in, this time with another finger added. He didn't quicken his pace as you assumed he would, but he took his time stretching you out further as you moaned and whined underneath him.

“More. You wanted more,” he reminded you, and his voice was like a sharp hit straight to your cunt, rough and hot and filling you completely.

You barely registered the orgasm that flowed over you, your brain replaying his words on a loop as he continued pleasuring you.

“That's it. That's a good girl. Get my fingers nice and wet.”

When you finally grounded yourself in the moment again, your cheeks flushed as you realized just how wet you'd gotten. You felt your arousal still dripping down your leg and turned your face further into the sheets to hide your embarrassment.

He pulled his fingers out of you, though, and with his now free hand he crouched over you and hooked his fingers under your jaw lifting your head and body up, forcing your crotch back into his as your back arched.

“Don't hide from this. Look how wet you are for me, Y/N. Taste it.” He tapped his fingers against your mouth and you were ashamed at how fast your lips dropped open, tongue falling out to let him wipe his cum stained fingers against your pretty little lips.

You tasted yourself on his fingers, wrapping your tongue around them and sucking as he dragged his dick across your back, trying to relieve himself in any way he could.

“Good girl. It's time for one more, Y/N.”

You released his fingers with a wet pop as he pushed you back into the sheets. Lining himself up, he entered you easily, your cum providing ample lubricant.

You whined at his first few pumps, certain he was going to continue his torturous pace and leave you begging for more hours into the night.

Instead, he let himself work you up to it, each thrust gaining in speed and strength until you could hear the slap of your skin against his more vividly than your own heartbeat.

His cock was thick, filling you perfectly as you lost yourself in the sensations.

“One day, I'll handcuff you to this bed,” he said, leaning down and whispering in your ear as each part of your body vibrated with lust.

“I'll tie you down to this bed, and I'll treat you like a princess. I'll eat your cunt for hours until you cum every time my breath hits your cunt, and I'll cover your pretty tits in my seed. I'll let you use my cock as your personal sex toy, and I'll fulfill every single need you have.”

His hand released your wrists as both of his hands came to wrap around your waist, pushing you deeper into the plush covers and changing the angle of his dick.

You screamed at the pleasure, forgetting the paper thin walls your apartment boasted.

“Fuck, Spencer.”

“And you're going to love every single second because your brain switches off every time I touch your delicate little wrists.”

With that, another wave of pleasure spread through your body, sending prolonged shivers throughout your body.

You felt him withdraw and heard the sticky mess of him stroking himself behind you until he made good on his promise and sprayed his generous load across your ass and panties before collapsing on the bed next to you.

The two of you laid there for what felt like hours, sharing nothing but your labored breaths and the space of the bed before he finally rose.

You tried not to sleep, but your entire body felt stiff from the awkward, if enjoyable, position he'd held you in.

Your eyes drifted shut, and you just listened to his movements. A creaking floorboard here, a stumble against some furniture there, culminating in some running water and a return to your space.

“Y/N,” he whispered, cautious to rise you from what he assumed was much needed sleep.

“Mmmm,” was all you could reply.

“I realize now that I made a pretty big mess, so we need to get you in the bath.”

“Mmm,” you protested, brows furrowing as you tried to gather your sheets closer around you, cradling yourself in the warmth.

But doing so only made you more aware of the sticky wet mess around your torso and legs, and you let out a small, frustrated sigh.

“You're stubborn, you know that, right?” He said, admiration coating his tongue as he lifted you slowly and helped you place your feet on the floor and walk towards your bathroom.

“Spencer, shouldn't have a bath, too sleepy.”

“I know, I'm going to stay.”

“In the bath?”

“In the bath.”

“Good.”

And it was. You let him lift your legs one by one into the scorching water and melted back into him, your head resting on his shoulder as if it were the most comfortable pillow you'd ever used, and you slept.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

1K notes · View notes

brooooswriting · 6 months

Note

Hi. I really love your writing. I would like to request a natasha x female reader shot. They have been dating for a long time, which started only two months after y/n joins the team. They are a very happy couple. One day, y/n had a mission with clint and he ended up getting injured. Natasha blames y/n as he is her best friend and they met long before nat started dating y/n. Even when y/n said that she did try to protect clint, nat did not believe her. They had a huge argument and nat says something that hurts y/n. After the fight, y/n try to patch up her relationship with natasha. Even when nat keeps hurting and ignoring y/n, she never gives up. Two weeks after the fight, they have a mission together with Yelena. Nat stays on the quinjet and yelena and y/n enter the base. They were then ambushed. Even though y/n is already injured, she just thinks about keeping yelena safe as she is afraid that nat will get even more angry at her if yelena is injured. Yelena get out unscathed but y/n is seriously injured. Before she pass out on the quinjet, she says " i hope you are no longer angry at me. i saved your sister." at natasha. Either y/n survives or not i will leave that up to you. Please keep it long and as angsty as possible. Sorry for the long request. I just really love your story. Happy writing.

Your fault

Natasha Romanoff x reader (romantic), Maria hill x reader (platonic), avengers x reader (platonic)

Becoming a part of the avengers was the best thing that has ever happened to you. You finally felt like you did something for the society, you used your time right and you met some of the greatest people ever. Including Natasha, the love of your life. Only two months after joining she asked you out and the rest has been history. That was now three years ago and you two were the happiest and best couple anybody knew, you were communicative and understanding. Every argument you ever had was solved in a matter of hours.

Until one particular mission.

You were out with Clint and everything went wrong. Every. Damn. Thing. It started with some wrong coordinates from a newbie you’d definitely get fired once you were out of this. You ended up somewhere completely different, making you way later than you were supposed to be.

But at that time, you and Clint thought it was going to be okay. After all the building was supposed to be empty, two to three agents at max. So you went inside with barely any equipment or weapons. The only thing you were supposed to do was clear the hardware, something the two of you had done countless times. Out of nowhere a couple of dozen agents started to appear, forming around you. It was a hard fight and you both barely got out, once you got out of the building you saw an agent aim at Clint. You immediately tried to push him away into safety, or at least out id the bullets way, but he did the same to you and in that moment he was stronger than you.

Three shots later, Clint was bleeding and slowly loosing consciousness making you carry most of him back to the jet. “You can’t die buddy. Cmon you got family” you mumbled over and over as you put the compounds coordinates into the jet before running back to put pressure on to his wounds. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. Alarms Cho, Bruce and Tony. Clint needs to go into the OR immediately” Clint was shifting in and out of consciousness. “You shouldn’t have jumped in the way you idiot” you grumbled as tears formed in your eyes.

Twenty minutes later you arrived. Clint was unconscious and the moment the jet touched the ground doctors streamed in and got Clint out. One doctor and Maria hill walking towards you, you had some scratches, some bruises and one deeper wound on your stomach but nothing against Clint. You saw Nat running alongside Clint, it hurt you a little that she didn’t even look for you but you got it. She knew him for such a long time and after all he was the one who saved her. “Are you alright?” Maria asked as she saw the blood seeping through your uniform.

“Yeah, I’m good” you told her with a smile that was way less convincing once you stood up and nearly fell over. The S.H.I.E.L.D agent was quick to catch you with her arms around your waist and helped you into the hospital wing of the compound.

“What the hell y/n” Natasha said as she stormed towards you, an angry look on her face as Maria helped you sit down on a stretcher. Before you could even open your mouth she started to scream. “How could you let this happen?! He has a family and now he’s bleeding out in the OR” she was heaving and her eyes were squinting at you.

“I’m sorry Nat, he-“ she didn’t even let you finish before she started to scream at you again. Alerting everyone in the wing.

“You’re sorry? Do you think that is going to fix anything? No, it isn’t! You should have done something! You should have thought this through. But no, of course you didn’t. Why didn’t you do anything? Why weren’t you more cautious?”

“I tried to do something, I tried to push him away but he did the same to me Nat. Do you think I wanted this? Don’t you think I know that he has a family?” You asked, your voice still calm as you didn’t wanna fight. You were scared for Clint and everything hurt, the last thing you needed was Natasha screaming at you and giving you the fault for things that you already knew were your fault.

“You tried? You tried to push him away? How can you fail at something so easy?! God, you’re useless. He has people that love him and value him, not like you. It should have been you y/n, you should be laying in that OR fighting for your life. Because your death wouldn’t even impact half as many people as his does. You don’t deserve to sit here with a small wound crying, you should be in there dy-“ before she could finish Maria jumped in, all of the other avengers standing around you too shocked about what just happened.

“That’s enough Agent. Leave the room right now” she ordered making the redhead scoff but leave, everybody else still standing around your bed. You tried to keep your tears in as best as possible as you didn’t want the team to see you cry. “Everybody out, right now” nobody dared to argue with her so they quickly left the room, Wanda shooting you a soothing smile.

The moment the room was empty you cried into Maria’s arms. “Do you wanna sleep over tonight?” She asked carefully, understanding if you didn’t wanna see Natasha tonight. But before you could answer one doctor spoke up.

“She’s sleeping here tonight. It seems like hydra experimented with some substances that makes them heal slower and it makes everything more painful, so we wanna keep an eye on that” he explained before leaving.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“No, it’s alright. I guess you got a lot of paper work to do now” she chuckled slightly at you. “But for real, it’s okay. It’s just one night but thank you” not long after she left, but not before bringing you a book and some tea.

Three hours later Tony came into your room, shawarma in his hand and your phone and headphones. “I thought you could use something to eat and an update about Clint. Turns out the bullets were infused with something that thins out his blood which is why he lost consciousness so quickly, but the bullets hit nothing vital. We could get the bullets out and stitch him up without any problems. He’s connected to some blood and should be up in an hour” he explained as he gave you the food, a small smile on his lips.

“Thanks tons, but I’m not hungry and I’m happy to hear that Clint is alright. When he’s awake can you tell him that I am deeply sorry?” You asked, looking at your hands instead of Tony. There was a moment of silence, and you knew he was contemplating wether to say something or not but he decided against it and only gave you an okay before leaving.

Two hours later the door opened again and Wanda entered. While you were happy to see the witch you had hoped that it would be Natasha. “Hey” she mumbled as she sat on the chair next to your bed, two teas in her hand and a book under her arm.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” You asked as you took the tea and thanked her.

“Well, everybody is camping next to Clint’s bed and I could hear your thoughts scream. So I thought you could use the company” she explained, placing a hand on yours in a comforting manner.

There was a moment of silence after she told you that Clint was doing well. “What Natasha said was out of line y/n, you don’t deserve that and there are a lot of people who would have missed you” she said as she looked up from her book.

“She was right, he has family and so many people that love him. The only person that loves me, or well loved, just told me that she actually doesn’t. But I promise I tried to protect him Wanda. I really did” the witch took your hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“I know y/n, the memory keeps replaying in your head and it is so loud that I can’t blend it out. But you know, when Pietro died sacrificing himself for Clint and that child I was devastated and so mad at Clint. It took me a while to realize that there was nothing that Clint could have done to stop him, and that I had no reason to be mad at him. But it took me some time you know?” Her voice was so soothing that nearly all the weight of the terrible day fell off of you.

The next day you were finally let out of the hospital but you weren’t really allowed to do anything. After a long discussion with the doc you could finally convince him to keep quiet about your condition, if he would talk about it it would just steer up certain arguments again.

The first thing you did was visit Clint, or rather you tried to but before you could Natasha appeared in front of the door. “Where do you think you’re going?” She asked in her Black widow voice, not her normal soft voice that she had with you.

“In there, I wanna talk to Clint. See how he’s doing you know, say how sorry I am for what happened” you explained, fiddling with your fingers.

“You’re not going anywhere near him. You don’t deserve to say that you’re sorry. You don’t get the relieve of having the opportunity to apologize” she hissed making you take a step back.

“Nat, come on. Can we talk about this?” Your voice was small and timid but she didn’t care. She turned and walked away as if you were nothing to her, as if you hadn’t been in a relationship for over three years.

You noticed how tired she looked so you decided to make her and Clint some coffee, hoping that that would lift her spirit. So you made each coffee to their liking before putting it on to a tray with a small note that read ‘you looked tired. Hope it makes you feel better. Love, your girlfriend’. You put it down in front of Clint’s room and knocked before turning and walking away. Hoping that you were giving her the space she needed.

When Natasha opened the door she couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she saw the tray, immediately knowing who had left it there. She still picked it up and carried it inside, both her and Clint could use the coffee. “Oh, that looks like y/n coffee. How is she holding up?” He asked as he grabbed one of them weakly, a small smile on his face at the thought of a hurt you still making them coffee.

“She’s good” Natasha only mumbled as she stared into the mug, avoiding eye contact with her best friend.

“What is going on between you two?” He asked her but she was quick to brush him off. It was suspicious and he was 95% sure that she did something stupid but he was too weak and too tired to solve it right there right now, especially if she didn’t wanna talk about it.

Later that day you sat in your shared bedroom with Natasha, staring at the door hoping that she’d come but no luck. When it was around 11:45 p.m. you decided to go to bed, the pain killers were slowly wearing off and everything started to hurt again, so you laid in bed and hoped for her to come and hold you.

She did come, at around 1 a.m. but she laid as far from you as she could. She made a point of not touching you as if you were contagious. It broke your heart even more but you just pretended to be asleep.

The next morning you woke up before her to bring her breakfast in bed which turned out to be a very stupid idea. When you arrived with the breakfast on a tray the redhead was already awake checking her phone. “Hi, I made you breakfast” you mumbled as you put the tray down on her nightstand.

“No thank you” was the only answer you got, she didn’t even look up.

“But-“

“Do you think that everything is just forgotten? Or that some lousy breakfast is going to undo everything?! The only reason I came back here yesterday is because Hill got my old room and Clint told me to go sleep in a real bed” she hissed making your eyes tear again.

“I’m sorry, I’ll leave” you told her as you grabbed the tray and disappeared into Hills room. The brunette sat on her table working on some paperwork when you came in. “Want some breakfast?” You asked her with a small smile.

“Oh, thank y- what happened hun?” She asked when she saw your red eyes, she had been your first friend here, she was the person who recruited you.

“It’s alright, can I just lay here for a bit and watch you work?” You asked carefully and immediately received a nod, so you settled into her bed and watched as she tipped and scribbled and did whatever she had to do.

The next days were exactly the same, you tried to fix whatever you and Natasha had while she destroyed all your attempts. You cooked for her? She threw it away in front of your eyes. You bought her something? She gave it away. You entered a room? She left. You tried to talk to Clint? She wouldn’t let you. You tried to talk to her? She’d say something rude. You could deal with the being rude but what really broke you was the ignoring and neglecting you, it was as if you hadn’t spend three years together.

The whole team could see that it broke you, Hill and fury too. It got to the point where you were sleeping at either Maria’s or Wanda’s, too scared of Natasha’s anger to sleep next to her. Everybody tried to keep Clint out of it as he still wasn’t as fit as he was supposed to be but after 12 days of this they just couldn’t anymore so Steve decided to talk to him and explain the situation.

“She’s been ignoring her for 12 days because I got hurt?” Steve nodded at him, his lips pressed into a thin line. “But she tried to save me, I just refused to let her. Didn’t she say that?” Clint asked and Steve sighed explaining that you tried to but Natasha didn’t leave you a chance.

That was the same day that fury informed you if your mission. You, Yelena and Natasha, and while you normally loved missions like that this one was a complete horror. “Fury, please. Send anybody else” you begged him but he refused, nobody had the skill set you three had. It got even worse when he explained that you and Yelena had to go inside while Natasha stayed in the Clint jet.

The ride to the location was terrible, Yelena was on a vacation with Kate and didn’t know what happened which was why she was very confused why Nat didn’t talk to you. You sat at the far end of the jet with your headphones on, painkillers in your hand for when you were going down. Natasha flying the jet, having a light conversation with her sister unless she asked about you.

“What happened?” She asked as she saw your eyes closed and head leaning against the wall. It was weird to see you like this, normally you were upfront, singing with them and laughing.

“She nearly killed Clint, she’s… just forget it. We are there in 2, wake her up” with that Yelena made her way towards you, carefully shaking your shoulder.

“2 minutes then we arrive” you nodded and got everything, already putting your parachute on your bag and getting a water for the painkillers.

“Alright we are here. Remember, get inside unnoticed, there shouldn’t be anyone really, get the hardware and then outside again. Is that clear?” You and Yelena nodded as you opened the bottle.

“Don’t kill my sister” was the last thing Nat said to you before turning to her sister. You were quick to take the painkillers and put the bottle away, only Yelena noticing it. You already knew that the fall was going to hurt your stomach.

When Yelena gave you the go the two of you jumped, carefully landing a couple of feet away from the facility. “What did you swallow before we jumped?” She asked forgetting to switch to a channel where the redhead couldn’t listen. You closed your eyes with a sigh before shaking your head at her and pointing towards the jet making her mouth a sorry as you walked towards the building.

“What?! What did you swallow y/l/n?!” Natasha kept on nagging until you finally snapped.

“I took some painkillers alright?!” After that you just tuned her out, she was distracting you and that was the last thing you needed. “You keep watching, I get the hardware alright?” You asked Yelena who stood at the door and gave you a nod as you started. “Nearly done” you mumbled after a minute, wanting to leave as soon as possible.

Suddenly there was an explosion in the room next door making you jump. You quickly got everything you needed before pulling Yelena towards the exit. Your way was suddenly interrupted by an agent pointing a gun at you. “Natasha, we are being ambushed” Yelena said into her intercom while you tried to figure out a way out. You quickly shot the agent before pushing Yelena into a room on your left side.

“Get into the vents” you told her, already getting rid of the covering. “You will follow that vent until you get to the roof. We will meet up there alright? The moment Nat is there you get onto that damn jet” you helped her up, while she protested of course. “See ya” you told her as you pushed the cover back up and exited the room, Yelena seeing how you were immediately circled by agents. In the minute she watched she saw you nearly getting shot two times and some blood forming on your lower abdomen.

She stood on the roof for five minutes before Natasha arrived but she refused to go up, she needed to see you alive. “Yelena Belova! Get up here right now” her sister screamed into the intercom but she refused.

“Not until she’s here, she was bleeding” the blonde said shortly before the door to the roof opened, a bloody you exiting.

“What the… Belova, get up there right now” you screamed over the distance but she shook her head.

“No! You’ll need help up, so come on” she was right, you could barely move, your hands were pressing against your lower abdomen as your stitches ripped open and getting up that ladder was going to be a fight but you couldn’t care less right now.

Suddenly you became suspicious, it was too empty and quiet. So you looked around, focusing on every detail until you saw it; two snipers, their guns showing your and Yelenas way. “Fuck, move Yelena” you screamed but she was too focused on you to notice so you took of. You pushed her out of the way and made her stumble, she held onto the ladder giving you the opportunity to completely save her. So before the bullets his you you called out to the redhead. “Pull up Natasha”

And she did with Yelena holding onto the ladder. The blonde could see the two bullets penetrating you, you falling to the ground and suddenly agents storming on to the roof. There was a puddle of blood forming around you. “I hope you’re no longer angry at me Natasha. I saved your sister” you weakly mumbled into the intercom before it went silent.

“What are we gonna do Nat?” Yelena panicked as she climbed up the ladder. Her sister immediately standing up and checking her over.

“Are you alright?! Do you have any wounds?” She asked her, tears pooling in her eyes.

“No, the moment it got dangerous y/n pushed me into a vent and made me go to safety. Fuck, I shouldn’t have let her do that. We gotta get her Natasha” the redhead shook her head, the tears now streaming down her face.

“It’s my fault. Not yours. I’ll figure something out” she mumbled as she kept checking Yelena for injuries.

“No, you’re gonna come back here and we will figure something out together Agents” Fury’s voice sounded over the coms making Yelena flinch for a second.

“No, we can’t leave her here” yelenas protest was immediately shut down by her sister and fury. There was nothing she could do for you at the moment.

“What happened?” She suddenly asked after a longer while of silence, turning towards Natasha.

“What?”

“You heard me. What happened during my vacation? You ignore your own girlfriend, you neglect her, you leave her to die. So I’m asking you again, what happened?”

“She nearly killed Barton”

“What?! I saw him today, he was hurt but fine Natasha. What are you talking about?”

“They were on a mission and she came back slightly hurt while he nearly died in the OR, because she couldn’t protect him. He has family Yelena” Natasha told her, a harsh glare on her face.

“So you are leaving her to die because she couldn’t protect a grown man who is doing that job longer than she does?! Unbelievable” we’re Yelenas last words before they touched ground, she was immediately of the jet.

“Romanoff. Clint needs you in the hospital wing” Steve said, making the redhead run. She nearly crashed into dozen of people, ignored everyone who tried to talk to her and finally crashed through the door.

“Finally. Took you long enough” Clint said as he sat on a chair in his hospital room, book discarded on to the table.

“What the hell?! You are fine. I thought you were dying” she said accusingly, plopping down on the chair in front of him, her breath slightly heaving.

“No, but I’m gonna be the reason you’re dying soon if you don’t get your shit together” he was dead serious making Natasha furrow her brows when she looked at him.

“What do you mean with that?” Her tone was slightly shocked.

“I mean that you have been ignoring your girlfriend for like what? 2 weeks? Because I got hurt? How stupid can you be? It wasn’t her fault Nat, she did what she could but I didn’t let her. So you’re gonna get your ass up and into your room and you’re gonna apologize to that girl until she’s not mad at you anymore. Because god forbid you two break up, my kids really like her” he finished his monologue and just stared at her. “Oh no, what are you not telling me?” He asked once he realized that something was wrong.

“We lost y/n, her and Yelena were ambushed. She did everything she could to get Yelena out unharmed, she was shot and we had to leave her” now that the adrenaline was going down she realized what just happened. Or rather realized what has been happening over the last two weeks.

“Romanoff. Burton. We need a plan to rescue y/l/n” Tony said as he and the team entered. “We have only hours until we loose the last trade of her” he added as they sat down around the table.

“I’m sorry, are you speaking about y/n y/l/n, the one who came here with a lower abdomen wound?” The doctor who has been in Clint’s room spoke up making everybody turn to him. Maria nodding her head.

“She wasn’t allowed to go on a mission, her wound hasn’t even nearly healed. The substance she came into contact with at the mission slowed her healing process immensely” he explained before going away, leaving the team to do their stuff.

“Why didn’t you know that Natasha?” Bucky asked, overwhelmed with the situation.

“Because she decided to ignore y/n because of a mistake that wasn’t even really hers” Wanda said, glaring at the redhead. Suddenly a whole argument started to develop, until Bucky, Yelena, Wanda and Maria just stood up.

“Where are you three going?” Sam asked breaking the argument.

“We are gonna go find y/n” one of them answered.

“Wait, I’m coming along” Natasha said as she also jumped up. Her last words to you couldn’t be “don’t kill my sister”. She was met with a scoff from one of the girls but still decided to follow. The rest stayed and tried to work out a plan.

Two hours later the five arrived at the station, something in these two hours happened to Nat. They didn’t know what it was but it was definitely needed for the mission, she was laser focused and a war machine. Nobody hit as many targets as she did, she was cruel as if she really cared about you again.

“We will go different ways, hoping that we can find her faster. Yelena, wanda you stay down here, Bucky Natasha and I will go through the rooms upstairs. Say something the moment you got her, we wanna get out of here as fast as we can” the brunette commanded before walking her team up the stairs.

“Bucky, left side. Natasha, around the corner. I will take the right side” and they did, the redhead disappeared behind a corner. Kicking down each door, praying that you’re behind it, sitting on a chair with a small smile, just waiting for them to save you. But she was so so wrong when she heard Bucky gasp though the intercoms.

“I got here, third room left side” he said alerting you all. In a matter of seconds Natasha sprinted past him to kneel next to your lifeless body. She fell to her knees, her hand hovering over you unsure of touching you.

Yelena came sprinting inside too, falling to your other side. Her hands immediately went to check your pulse, “there’s none” she mumbled making everybody stop in their tracks. Suddenly Natasha’s body rocked in sobs, Bucky stared straight ahead, Yelena let her tears fall silently, Wanda tried to feel a pulse herself while Maria left the room to cry.

After a minute she came back inside. “Bucky, can you pick her up and carry her to the jet? We can’t leave her here, she deserves a real funeral” the brunet said.

“I’ll do it” the redhead mumbled and picked you up, she had already wrapped the jacket she took with her around your abdomen. Even if you were already dead. She pressed you tightly to herself, breathing in your scent what would be the last time. She couldn’t believe it, her last words to you were “don’t kill my sister” and that was the reason why you died.

Everybody sat in the jet, there was an absolute silence as Yelena flew them all back down. Your corpse laying on the bed not far. “She can’t be dead, I can still feel her. She just can’t be” Wanda mumbled as she looked at your body, her tears streaming down her face.

The whole compound was devastated when the jet landed, you were brought into the hospital wing again where they classified you as dead. “I’m sorry but there is nothing I can do for her. She’s dead” the doctor told the team after checking you and closing your abdomen wound. “If you want to we can already order a coffin and get somebody to plan the funeral” he added with a ‘comforting’ smile.

“No, she can’t be dead. On the jet Wanda said that she can still feel her so that means that she can’t be dead” Natasha cried out as she watched your bloody body. “She can’t be. This can’t be the last thing she heard from me and the last thing she remembered from me. She can’t be dead” it broke all their hearts to watch her cry like that, they had never seen her cry. Some tears? Yeah but full on crying? Never.

Clint and Steve tried to calm her down but she only pushed them away, her body hunched over yours. “Let’s give her some times. She needs more time to say goodbye to her than we do” Tony said and gathered everyone out of the room, except the redhead.

“I’m so sorry love. I was so terrified of having to tell Laura that Clint died that I just, I fucked up and I didn’t realize. You can’t believe how much I hate myself and I hate myself even more when I think about the fact that I can never tell you how much I love you and how sorry I am” she whispered as she cleaned your arms with a sponge. “Even though I know that you’d never forgive me, I really wish you were here right now. Screaming at me for being an idiot” Tony stood at the door and watched her talk to you.

“I can’t believe I didn’t appreciate the last time I saw your eyes” she cried into your shoulder, one arm carefully wrapped around your stomach as if she could hurt you. Tony decided to leave the two of you a bit longer, even though she treated you like shit he couldn’t imagine how much it must hurt her to never be able to fix it.

“We should give her an hour more” he said as he came back to the others, everybody was looking for comfort in each other. Even Fury coming back from wherever he was to say his last goodbye to you. Wanda struggled the most though, something was just not right.

“If she’s dead, why can I still feel her?” She cried out, everybody looking at the ground. Not knowing how to answer her.

“Let’s go, we have to say our goodbyes” Fury said and stood up to lead the group to your hospital room. By now Natasha fell asleep in the position, making even Fury’s eyes water.

“Wait, Natasha” Tony called out, carefully waking the redhead up. “Did you wrap her arm around you?” He asked when he noticed your position changed. She shook her head not realizing what he meant. “Get up Nat, Bruce give me the stethoscope” the spy jumped up and Bruce quickly gave him the stethoscope. “Wait- I can hear something” he told them once he pushed it to your chest.

“Y/n?” Natasha called out as she pushed past Bruce back to your side. “Her hands are warmer” she realized as she grabbed your hand again.

“Let me try something” Wanda mumbled, her hand glowing red in front of your forehead. “I can feel her stronger now, she’s dreaming” a small content smile build on Wanda’s face, the first one since you went on that mission.

With small help from Wanda you woke up, your eyes fluttering as your face was filled with color and your heartbeat strengthened. “Yelena?” Was the first thing you got out shocking everybody. They were guessing that you’d call for Nat or Maria since she’s your best friend but Yelena? Sure, you were friends but still.

“Yeah?” She asked as she pushed her way through to you, pushing past sobbing Maria and Natasha. Her hand carefully found yours as your eyes looked into hers.

“You alright right?” You asked a small smile on your lips as you saw her smile and shake her head.

“Yes, I am. Thanks to you” both of you chuckled before Maria and Wanda threw themselves at you, hugging you closely just to hear you breath and feel your heartbeat.

“What happened?” Steve asked into the room, the question was directed towards you but also towards Tony. You were dead, no questions asked.

“They gave me a shot, muttering something about me dying slowly and painfully. It definitely was both of that, except for the fact that I didn’t really die I guess” you explained, still confused about… well everything.

“I’ll send the scans and blood work to my lab. Bruce, let’s go” Tony said before hugging you quickly. He hoped to figure out what happened to you.

Tony seemed to have set an example as everybody else hugged you before ‘giving you some time’ which was meant to be a code for ‘talk to Romanoff’. She kept back while everyone was there, silently crying in the corner of the room. She didn’t know what to say to you, there was nothing she could say that would make her behavior right. Never.

Once everybody was out you started to slightly shake and spoke up. “It hurts Nat, it hurts so bad” you mumbled as you tried to hug yourself to give some comfort.

“I’m sorry, give me a sec I’ll hook you up on an IV and some painkiller” Natasha told you and quickly worked around you, carefully inserting the needle into your arm. “There, it should get better now” she said, one hand instinctively coming to your cheek.

“We should probably talk about what happened huh?” You said, your body still shaking but the pain going down. Nat nodded timidly unsure of what to say and where to start.

“I- I am so so so sorry for what I said, it was completely out of line. And don’t even let me get started about my behavior. I was so scared of having to tell Laura that Clint died that I just snapped, which was stupid because everything I said was so so wrong. Fury, Nick Fury, leader of S.H.I.E.L.D came here today because you died, you know what kind of honor that is? There are so so many people who would have missed you if you were dead. Including me, I deserved to lay in that OR dying for what I said, not you. You had done everything you could” she told you, her eyes red from the constant crying and her voice small and unsteady, which was new for her.

“You hurt me so bad that I thought I deserved to die Natasha” was the only thing you said, you could see her flinch at the usage of her name. You almost felt sorry but in the end was she the one who has started it.

“I know, and I hate myself for it. And I would get If you wouldn’t wanna give me a second chance but if you, by any means, feel like giving me the opportunity to fix what I destroyed I’d happily take it and I wouldn’t disappoint you”

You thought for a moment but the fact that you were here, still alive after you were dead makes you believe that maybe this was your guys second chance. “I’m not saying that it’s okay, because it definitely isn’t but I appreciate that you apologized and you have the opportunity to make it right” you told her, proud of yourself for standing up for yourself and not just backing down.

“Thank you” she mumbled over and over again as she pressed kisses all over your faces causing a giggle to erupt from you.

Who knows if Natasha can really completely fix what she broke but she’d try for the rest of her life if that’s what it took for you to forgive her.

A/n: not the biggest fan of this but I hope you like it anon :)

#reader insert #brooooswriting #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x you #natasha romanoff imagine

653 notes · View notes

togrowoldinv · 8 months

Text

Heartbeat

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

When Yelena gets in a car accident, you reunite with her and her sister after years of not seeing each other

Note: I love Natasha and I love Yelena so here’s this. Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

When you got a call in the middle of the night, you knew it was nothing good. You listened carefully as the doctor told you that your best friend had been in a car accident.

Your brain racked as you tried to think of who that might be. Then she told you her name. Yelena. You haven’t seen her in years, but you are still her emergency contact in her phone. Nothing truly went wrong in your friendship. Just childhood friends who grew apart.

No matter the distance between you, you got in your car and drove to the hospital. Three hours later you pulled into the parking lot. They told you Yelena was still in surgery, so you settled in the waiting room.

That was almost five hours ago now. The doctor enters the room finally. You stand to greet her.

“Yelena is in recovery now,” the woman says. “It’ll be a long road, but she is expected to make a full recovery.”

“Oh, thank god,” you breathe out. “Can I see her?”

The doctor nods and leads you to her room. You take a few deep breaths before you enter. You haven’t seen her in three years, but she still looks like the same girl that you once knew.

Her green eyes open a few moments later. She groans in pain slightly before her attention falls on you. You walk closer to her.

“Y/n?” She asks. You nod. “What happened?”

“You were in an accident,” you explain. “I don’t know many details, but the doctors say you’ll make a full recovery.”

“Okay,” she says. “Okay, and you’re here because?”

“You must have had me listed in your phone as an emergency contact,” you say, shrugging. You really don’t know why.

“Did you call Natasha?” Yelena asks.

Natasha. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about her in years. You always admired her so much and felt so safe in her presence. But she and Yelena didn’t have the easiest relationship. It’s been so long since you last saw the redhead. Close to eight years. You miss her.

“Oh, um, no,” you say. “You two are talking again?”

Yelena nods. That’s good, you think. They need each other to really be happy. That was always the truth.

“I can call her,” you tell Yelena. You make a move to step out of the room, but Yelena reaches out for you.

“Y/n,” Yelena says. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Yel,” you say, tears fill your eyes.

You pull her into a soft hug. You didn’t realize how much you missed her until you held her in your arms. Every memory of your life together passes through your mind as you squeeze her.

“I’m hungry,” Yelena mumbles into your shoulder. You can’t help but laugh. Still the very same Yelena.

“I’ll get you food and call Nat, okay? Be right back.”

You step into the hallway and feel your pulse quicken as you click on Natasha’s name in your contacts. Truthfully, you always hoped Nat would confess her love for you, and you’d live happily ever after. But you never so much have kissed the girl.

The phone rings for a few moments and you begin to wonder if she’ll pick up. Maybe she sees your name and decides not to answer. But your what-iffing stops when Nat answers the phone.

“Hello,” Nat answers. The sound of her voice threatens to make your heart stop.

“Hi- um- hi Natasha,” you say. “I don’t know how to say it so I will just go for it. Yelena was in an accident, but she’s okay. She asked for you, so I called.”

“Where is she?” Natasha asks. You hear some bustling on her end of the line.

“We’re at the hospital.”

“I’m on my way,” Natasha replies. And that’s the end of the call.

You get Yelena some food before you go back to her room. Inside, you catch up with her. Things have been good for both of you. She is an accomplished veterinarian. You knew she would be successful.

You’re laughing about some old joke when Natasha arrives. She walks to Yelena quickly and hugs her sister. You stand back, letting them have a moment. They speak for a moment in Russian before Natasha looks to you.

To your surprise, she rounds the beds and pulls you into a hug. You bury your face in her neck and soak up her touch. She is warm and smells like the fruity hair products she must use. She pulls away but moves her hands to your face.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Natasha says. She always used to call you that. Her thumbs brush over your cheeks. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too, Natasha,” you say. You get lost looking into her green eyes. She looks older but in the perfect way.

Yelena coughs to break the moment up between you and Natasha. The older sister drops her hands from your face and turns her attention back to Yelena.

“You should get some sleep, Yelena. That surgery was intense,” Natasha says.

“Such a mom,” Yelena grumbles.

“And a doctor,” Natasha adds. She pulls the covers up Yelena’s body. “We’ll go get some lunch. See you in a bit.”

You follow Natasha out of the room. She knows where to go to the cafeteria, and you put two and two together.

“You work here?” You ask Nat.

“I do,” she replies. “Well, from time to time. I travel for work, but this is technically my home hospital.”

“I didn’t even know you were a doctor,” you say.

“Heart surgeon,” Natasha says. She doesn’t seem phased by how your mouth opens in shock. “What do you do for work?”

You tell Nat about your career and what you’ve been up to. For some reason, it doesn’t feel difficult to talk to her. It’s like no time has gone by. You eat lunch together and continue to catch up.

“I’m glad to see you and Yelena are close again,” you say.

“Yeah,” Natasha says. “I guess last time you saw me Yelena and I were on some rocky ground.”

“You had a big fight. Five years at least of no talking,” you remind her.

“It was six years and four months,” Natasha recounts.

“What happened?”

“The same thing as always, you know. Melina and Alexei. Yelena always keeps things lighter with them, and I was pissed. Until I wasn’t,” Natasha says. “My girlfriend at the time, Wanda, helped me realize how important it was to be talking to my sister.”

“That’s good, Nat. Yel has always needed you to be at her happiest.”

Nat nods. “And she needs you too, y/n. She cried about missing you,” Nat explains.

“I didn’t know that,” you say quietly. Nat scoots her chair closer to yours.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know you held her when she cried about me too.”

You did that. Many many times. Nat reaches and takes your hand. She helps you stand up. You follow her down the hallway and into what appears to be a breakroom.

“Did you ever find that person you dreamed about?” Natasha asks.

Her words seem random until you remember the nights you spent with her on the roof of your parents' house. You told her that you dreamed of loving someone and having someone love you back purposefully. She agreed that it was what she wanted too.

“No,” you answer. “Did you?”

“Maybe,” Natasha answers. “But I’m still waiting to see if she loves me back.”

“Oh, well, I hope that she does,” you answer. Nat steps closer to you, and she takes your face in her hands again.

“I hope she does, too,” Natasha says. She leans in, and her lips are inches from touching yours. “Do you love me, y/n?”

“I love you, Natasha,” you whisper.

Natasha’s lips brush against yours softly. You really start to kiss her back when her phone goes off. You wish she would ignore it, but she pulls away.

“Shit,” Natasha says. “It’s Yelena.”

“Does that mean-”

“I’m the cardio surgeon on call,” Natasha says. “Let’s go.”

She leads you out of the breakroom and to the operating room waiting area. Natasha leaves you there as she disappears behind the doors.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #sorry for the ending #or am I?

485 notes · View notes

hazelsmirrorball · 8 months

Text

Spiderman's biggest Fan | Jaime Reyes

summary: Jaime Reyes is the biggest spiderman fan. His girlfriend on the other hand is Spiderman's biggest hater.

pairings: Jaime Reyes x Fem! Reader

a/n: I’ve been wanting to do this for a while but as I was walking towards my literature class I saw a big ass spider so that inspired me to write this. This will probably have a second part if you guys want.

warning: English isn’t my main language

[MASTERLIST]

part two. part three. part four part five

Superheroes wasn’t a new term for the citizens of Palmera City. They were aware of the crimes that the cities around them would face like Metropolis or Gotham City. But Palmera city wasn’t a goldmine for a lot of villains to show up but there were a few constant ones like Doctor Octopus, Electro, the Rhino and occasionally some more. Before Blue Beetle had come around there had been a few super heroes that would patrol from time to time. Superheroes from the Justice League would pass by which added to people's curiosity, and by people mainly Milagro and Jaime. They loved the entertainment that it brought to Palmera. It made Palmera City more interesting. People had mixed reactions to superheroes, even though they were supposed to keep “humans” safe, some people had love-hate relationships with them, but some people were like the Reyes family.

Before the whole Khaji-Da situation, Milagro and Jaime would obsess over heroes. Collecting comics, occasionally buying merchandise, collecting news articles with their favorite heroes and other things Milagro and Jaime would be ashamed of even mentioning. Superheroes was something Jaime and Milagro bonded over. Even when Jaime left for his pre-law degree in Gotham City, he made sure he would snap pictures of the titans or batman when he got a glimpse of them. He even snuck a few pics of Red Hood beating the shit out of the joker. The pictures would end up in the group chat he had with his sister and his girlfriend, Y/n. Milagro loved seeing all the heroes, gushing over the titans from time to time while Y/n would just leave the text message on read. Milagro would reciprocate the messages by sending him pictures of their all time favorite superhero, Spiderman.

Spiderman was the shit in Palmera city, everyone went crazy about that man. Spiderman had been spiderman for a long time now. Keeping crime to a minimum in Palmera, he kept Palmera safe. Spiderman was Palmeras Batman or Superman. He was deeply loved by the people. Excluding the media and Kord enterprises. Depending on which news was your go to, you would see John Jameson bashing Spiderman or other news outlets talking wonders about him. But the city of Palmera hated both Kord and John Jameson so Spiderman didn’t have to worry that much.

Even though Spiderman was a national treasure no one had a clue of who he was and it intrigued Jaime. The fact that there was a possibility that he had seen spiderman around in his normal attire. Jaime and Milagro would see him from afar fighting crime and that would be the start of the gushing train. They only had one interaction with the man. Nana, Milagro and Jaime had gone to get groceries and before they could even process what was going on someone was robbing the store. It didn’t take long for Spiderman to show up and save the day. Both of them stared in awe from afar not wanting to disturb him. That day was one of the top days in their life.

Y/n, Jaime’s girlfriend of seven years, on the other hand didn’t understand their infatuation with superheroes. She had known the siblings ever since diapers and they usually would have a lot of things in common. Knowing each other for years made them click with a lot of things but it was weird for her to click with them on that specific topic. She was on the other side of the spectrum. She could care less about the heroes, it’s not like it affected her directly. At least that’s what her boyfriend thought.

From Jaimes perspective Y/n hated Spiderman. She didn’t stand him, every time Milagro or him would mention Spiderman she would tense up and roll her eyes, clearly annoyed. She didn’t like the subject. Y/n would walk away groaning when Spiderman would show up on the news while Jaime and Milagro would gush about him. At some point Jaime thought it was mere jealousy but he quickly pushed that thought away when he brought it up. Y/n mentioned that she just didn't understand what was all the fuss about. That to her these superheroes was just some bullshit that she didn’t want to deal with. That maybe Jameson was right, the world could live without Spiderman,the world could live without heroes.

“Heroes just make us “normal people” a charity case and you are eating that bullshit up” Y/n defended herself as looked at her boyfriend's shirt. I love spiderman written in the same font as those New York tourist shirts, spiderman being in the heart . Jaime looked at her with puppy dog eyes pouting as he hugged himself.

“So that’s a no on being spidermen for halloween?” He asked softly as she groaned leaving him alone

So when the whole Khaji-Da situation came creeping into Jaime’s life he hid it from his longtime girlfriend. He didn’t know how such a beautiful person like Y/n would stay with him in a relationship for so long. He couldn’t risk fucking things up, he didn’t choose to have Khaji-Da. He made his family swear that they wouldn’t say a word to her. Which they hesitantly agreed, respecting Jaime’s decision. He hated hiding things from the love of his life, but from the back of his head he would imagine what you would think about him now that he had “powers” and you were using them for good. It didn’t mean he was a superhero, right?

Jaime saw a future with Y/n and being Blue Beetle wasn’t going to change that in the slightest. They were going to finish grad school, get married and have a family. So even if he did feel guilty about hiding such a big secret he would have to keep it a secret to save their relationship. In Y/n eyes Jaime found a job at Kord industries and he worked nights, which wasn’t a complete lie. So that made him feel a little less guilty. Y/n was one of the most important things in his life and he wasn’t going to lose her, never in a million years.

But after the Reyes household burned down, Y/n had offered the Reyes family to stay with her and her aunt Marisol until everything was settled, which they agreed. So there they were the Reyes and the L/N living together. Which made Jaimes secret a little more harder to hide, being under the same for months was going to make things slip. He couldn’t sneak up in his girlfriend's room wearing his suit. So before anything could happen he took a break, he didn’t want to risk her finding out. He needed to take advantage of living with his girlfriend, seeing what it’s like to actually live with her, getting a preview of what’s to come.

That’s when Jaime started to pick up on Y/n’s weird behavior. How she would leave on random moments of the day or how she would avoid him at night. She was hiding something and he knew it. After all these years he could pick up on the little things she did and to him it was pretty obvious that she was hiding something. Something that fucked him over was the fact that he didn’t want to pry because he also knew that he was keeping things from her. But in his defense it was also for their safety and their relationship. So maybe he should let her have this secret, it wasn’t like she was cheating or something. Y/n wasn’t like that.

That was until she slipped into the kitchen spotting Jaime and Milagro eating some cereal while reading the news assuming that was Spider Man's new little stunt. She rolled her eyes walking towards them. She took a sip of Jaimes drink, placing it back down quickly.

“Buenos dias, nena” Jaime replied, smiling at her in awe making Milagro start her puking noises.

“Buenos dias! How did you guys sleep?” She said as she gave Milagro a little squeeze on the shoulder and a peck on Jaimes cheek. Milagro spined the stool to face her while narrowing her eyes at the couple.

“I slept well, how about you Jaime? How did you sleep” Milagro replied, taking a sip of her drink while looking at Jaime to make him talk. MIlagro wasn’t dumb, she was noticing that the couple wasn’t in synch as usual and she wasn’t going to let her brother fuck it up.

“Oh, um. I kinda couldn’t sleep. I miss you all night” He replied looking at his girlfriend not knowing what words to use. He didn’t want to sound like an obsessive boyfriend.

No offense but since Jaime isn’t going to say it I will. You look like you haven’t slept in years and we all know you are not sleeping here” She exclaimed straddling Y/n.

“Sorry! I’ve just been taking school seriously and since I'm doing that I am studying more than usual. I don’t want to have you guys staying all night up because I am doing my work. I just go to the library, that’s all. Don’t worry after midterms I’ll be all yours. Now are you guys still focused on the last spiderman fight? Come on! Shouldn’t you guys be doing something productive with your lives?” Y/n asked sarcastically, changing the subject as she fixed the hair leaning against Jaimes touch picking up looking towards the newspaper that was on the counter she pushed the hair to the side.

That’s when Jaime’s heart stopped. His eyes scanned the bruises in Y/n neck and he could feel his heart drop, sickness overcoming his body. He tried to look away from the barely covered hickeys, not wanting to cause a scene in front of Milagro. He couldn’t believe it, studying in the library my ass. He knew he hadn’t left hickeys on her neck, they hadn’t been intimate in a while because of all of her disappearances. The only interaction they were having was the occasional kiss on the cheek but that was about it. Jaime missed her, her kisses and her touch but he also respected her space so he didn’t bother her. But now the thought of her being with someone else scared him. She was keeping things from him and this was the confirmation.

“Ay mija, para mi que Spiderman es novio tuyo. Because why are you always up his ass? You know what they say, if you can’t beat them join them. It is about time you stop that hate train. I bet he’s really hot. Don’t you think, Jaime?” Milagro replied, closing the newspaper and turning to the couple. Jaime nodded completely out of it, his head in a different world.

“No seas estúpida. I just can’t believe you waste your time on that. That’s all” Y/n shrugged, pulling away from Jaime as she felt her phone vibrating. She pulled it out of her pocket reading the text message and for the first time in forever Jaime tried to peak over her shoulder. He needed to know.

Jaime, please give Y/n her privacy. Respect is important in a relationship

Khaji-Da words made Jaime sit straight once again. Y/n turned to Jaime pecking his lips quickly, fixing her hair.

“I have to go but I will see you guys at night. We are still up for movie night, right? Twilight marathon” Y/n asked the siblings as she looked between them. Milagro nodded and Y/n smiled at her. Y/n took that as a sign, speed walking towards the door but Jaime followed her suspecting that something was going to happen if he let her go. He holds Y/n arm softly standing on her front porch stopping her dead in her tracks.

“Are you hiding something from me?” Jaime asked slowly, letting his words sink into her. Y/n looked at him confused.

“What are you on about? Jaime, I’m an open book with you. I’m not hiding anything” she replied calmly making Jaime tense even more. Was she really lying to him?

“Y/n I can see. I can see the hickeys on your neck” Jaime replied harshly leaving Y/n wide eyed. She swallows hard thinking on how to talk to her but before a word could slip out of her mouth her phone vibrates again.

“I really need to go. Can we please talk about this when I get back?” She replied waiting for Jaime to answer but he stayed quiet trying to fight the anger he was bottling up. When she noticed he wasn’t going to reply Y/n headed her way leaving Jaime on the porch with his emotions.

She hated herself for leaving her boyfriend after he accused her of cheating. Things weren’t looking good for her. All the sneaking around, all the little lies and the sleepless nights. She was hiding things but it wasn’t the fact that she was cheating. It all had one thing in common.

Spiderman.

Y/n knew spiderman a little more than Jaime and MIlagro thought. They had a deeper connection than they could ever imagine.

When she was fifteen she found herself walking home after a long day of school when she had stumbled upon a spider that not shortly after decided to bite her. But to her dismay she didn’t get deadly poisoned because of the bite instead she got inhuman powers. A radioactive spider gave her superhuman strength ,superhuman speed, superhuman reflexes, superhuman durability, spider-senses and other inexplicable superhuman things. That’s the day spiderman was born.

She didn’t hate superheroes. She in fact loved them. Shewould feel so accomplished when Jaime fangirled about spiderman but Y/n didn’t want to raise suspicions she acted like she hated everything to do with superheroes. No one in her family knew about her little powers and she intended to keep it that way. After losing her parents and her uncle she didn’t want her aunt to worry about her, she already had too much things on her plate. She wanted to protect the people she loved and if she wanted that they had to be unaware of her powers. When the bite happened she had started dating Jaime and around the same moment Jaimes obsession with Spiderman started. Y/n hadn’t agreed with the name spiderman but people assuming she was a man made the suspicion of it being her less. So she kept the name, after fighting crime alone in Palmera City some people have gained an eye on her, offering her place in the Justice League, which she gratefully declined not wanting to leave Jaime alone. So they would come around from time to time to work with her.

It wasn’t hard for her to hide the secret identity from Jaime. With him working late at night and helping around the house he didn’t have time to notice her sneaking out. But now living under the same roof and Jaime rarely going to work made it hard for her. The Justice League needed her help and she was doing the best she could while attempting to balance her relationship. Throughout all the mission Y/n thoughts wandered towards Jaime and how broken he looked when she left. She was going insane and counting the minutes for her to get back home. She couldn’t even feel the constant hits she was getting while fighting. She got back into reality when Batman decided that the mission was done. After that she swung through all the buildings trying to get there as soon as possible, not noticing the time. Y/n quickly climbed the walls of her house slipping into her bedroom window noticing that her door was opened. She watched as Nana walked past the door with her pjs assuring her that she was still on time for the movie night. She slowly crawled on her ceiling as she slipped her mask off. Y/n moved slowly trying not to make any sound as she threw a web to close the door so no one could see her change. When the door was almost closed , Y/n let go of the ceiling with ease letting out an exhausted sigh. She walked towards it tiredly pushing the last few inches closing it. After debating if it was a good idea to have that conversation with his boyfriend, she turned around to face her bed to rest her eyes for at least a few moments. But the shocked look on Milagros face made her freeze dead in her tracks. Milagro let the movies she had in her hands slip as she stared at Y/n with her mouth wide. Y/n followed her expressions trying to think of something to say.

“What was that?” Aunt Marisol yelled from the kitchen. Y/n swallowed hard, quickly biting her lip. She quickly turned around heading towards the door before anyone else could enter the room worried about the loud bang.

“ U-uh it-it’s nothing! Nothing.” Y/n exclaimed looking at the door but quickly looking at Milagro again. Her face was in utter shock as she tried to think of words to say.

“You’re the Spiderman from…..the news” She said slowly, still inspecting the suit, the shocked look on her face not leaving. Y/n breathing got unevenly quick as she tried to find some sort of excuse to shake Milagro off.

“I’m not. I’m not” Y/n replied nervously as she tapped her chest letting the suit expand, turning bigger which made it slip from her body leaving her in her underwear.

“You were on the ceiling,” Milagro replied pointing up at the ceiling, her hand shaking with nerves.

“No I wasn’t! Milagro what are you doing in my room!? You can’t just bust into my room!” With that she could hear someone's steps coming towards her room making her quickly move in front of Milagro as her aunt opened the door.

“The turkey meatloaf recipe es una mierda! We decided to order food. Are you guys, Milagro, do you want to eat something?” Aunt Marisol asked as she waved smoke out with a rag.

“Ye-”

“No! We already have food here for are movie night. Don’t worry Aunt Mary” Y/n exclaimed all jumpy trying to get her out as soon as possible.

“Okay then ... .Maybe but on some clothes” her aunt replied while pointing to her semi naked body. She quickly grabbed the nearest shirt covering her body while nodding. Aunt Marisol closed the door as both of them looked at the place she once stood at.

“She doesn’t know?!” Milagro whisperedyelled as she walked towards the door. Y/n slipped the shirt on blocking her path.

“No one knows! Well Batman knows because he made my suit but that’s it!” She said in the same tone, getting stressed out.

“Batman made you that? Are you in the Justice League?” Milagro asked excitedly. While she just shook her head nervously.

“Well basically… You can’t tell anybody about this, you have to keep it a secret” She said as she watched Milagro almost faint on her bed. As Milagro held her body against the nearest wall Y/n walked towards her.

“Secret what, why?”

“If she finds out, if Jaime finds out that there’s people out to kill me every night they are not going to let me do this anymore. Come on, Milagro. Please ” Y/n whispered-yelled with a panicked look on her face pointing towards the door.

“Okay, okay, okay. I will level with you. I don’t think you should keep this a secret. This is the best thing that has ever happened to you. I mean Y/n…” Milagro exclaimed wanting Y/n to tell everyone, specially Jaime and Marisol.

“They can not know! I can’t do that to them right now. You know…..with everything that is happening to her…to him…to them…to you, to us! Please Milagro” Y/n replied desperately trying to catch her breath. Milagro look at her knowingly, her gaze softening.

“Okay”

“Just swear it, okay?”

“I swear,” Milagro replied, smiling at her softly, trying to ease her nerves.

“Thank you…. I can’t believe this is happening right now. “ Y/n replied as she walked towards the other extreme of the room trying to calm herself.

“Can I try the suit on?…”

“No”

“How does it work? Is it magnets? How do you shoot the strings? Why are you spiderman if you are a spiderwoman?”

“I’ll talk to you about this tomorrow. I just need to rest, please” Y/n replied taking Milagros by the hand walking her towards the door.

“Wait, so you aren’t cheating on Jaime!” She replied before she left the room.

“No! It isn’t a hickey, it's a bruise from the fight you guys were reading about '' Y/n exclaimed before closing the door leaning her head against it. She scanned her room, her eyes failing on her mirror noticing she was wearing Jaimes “I love Spiderman”.

That’s why they say you should never meet your idols. It will be disappointing when you see how they truly are.

part two. part three

[MASTERLIST]

561 notes · View notes

urhoneycombwitch · 22 days

Text

in sickness, to cherish

foreword: so excited to release this lil’ babe into the world. PTSD and trauma healing is of special interest to me, I hope you enjoy 💖 (p.s. from my limited research I don’t think they would have used a heart monitor for low-risk patients but it is literally integral to my plot so I’m breaking my anachronistic purity rule. soz)

wc: 3k

cw: descriptions of seizure, PTSD + hospital/medical trauma for the whole gang, brief mention of non-consensual drugging, R is referred to once as “Mrs” & “girlfriend”, angst w/ comfort

___

The mounted clock on the wall of the dingy Hawkins Memorial waiting room ticks over to nine PM, a brutal reminder that time (for everyone else, at least) has not, in fact, stopped.

Nine o’clock. As you pace from one end of the plastic chair-lined aisle to the other, you run the numbers in your head, fingers spastic at your sides- it’s nine right now, and Steve was admitted just after six, which means they’ve been running tests for three hours, even though the charge nurse said it should only take one…

”You wanna step outside for a smoke?”

Eddie speaks up from his seat at the end of the row, catching your bleary gaze before you’re turning on your heel again to complete your looping track.

His voice cuts smoothly over the buzzing fluorescents, the old television in the corner droning with last week’s news cycle; it’s enough to disrupt Robin from her half-sleep against Eddie’s shoulder, blinking into consciousness and stretching her stiff limbs as you respond.

“No, thanks.” Your hands slip to the inside of your elbows, squeezing through layers of soft cardigan in a near-bruise, feet continuing the rhythmic pacing. “You can go, though- I’ll make sure Robin comes to get you if anything happens.”

Eddie clears his throat, sinking back into the hard plastic, rings clicking at the armrests. “Nah, I’m good without one. Just thought you’d want a change of scenery, maybe some fresh air would calm-”

“I’m staying here.”

There’s a sharpness to your voice, a rarity- Robin winces, fingers in her lap twisting and fidgeting as she tries to change the subject. “God, Steve’s gonna be spitting mad when he wakes up. He’s the most doctor-adverse person I know.”

Eddie latches on to this with a humorless chuckle- “Stubborn bastard. Wouldn’t let those lab goons go near him, even after last year-”

“Fuck.” The swear comes from the bottom of your toes, even as you swivel on the balls of your feet to loop back in front of your friends; their faces snap to you, a blur of motion as you pass them again- “You’re right. Steve fucking hates doctors. I should’ve-”

Your next breath comes stilted, fingers a vice-grip on your own arms as you pace, pace, pace- “I should’ve treated this like taking a dog to a vet. Crushed up some pills in his food, or something- he never listens to me when I nag him about his hearing getting worse- do you know how many meals, how many glasses of water we share, every day?”

From the corner of your hazy vision, Robin’s gone still and pale, her voice tremulous- “I didn’t mean to imply- this isn’t your fault, you know-”

But you’re not ready to hear that, guilt surfacing like a sick wave, tears pooling, moments away from spilling over, voice trembling with anguish- “Could’ve been so easy, tell him we’re going for a ride, load him up into the passenger seat, he goes to sleep and I could’a passed him right off to a doctor, to someone who could have prevented this-”

Eddie rises from his seat to stand in the middle of your path, hands lifting to soothe and appease, but you’re still in flight mode, like a bird beating its wings against the confines of its cage.

You flinch away from his touch, standing with your back turned to them both, staring out the dark window, unseeing. “You know what Steve said to me? Right before he hit the ground? He said, ‘Don’t panic, I’m gonna pass out, try not to let my hair get too messed up.’”

An edge of misplaced humor draws a dry laugh from your throat. The dark window reflects your own face back- tear-streaked, red veins encroaching on the whites of your eyes- as you shake your head in disbelief. “He made a joke. To try and distract me from the fact that he was about to hit the ground and go all… all spastic-”

Unbidden flashes of memory surge to the forefront of your mind: victims of last spring. Twisted forms snapped at the bone, Max’s arms and legs bent at horrifying angles, plaster casts from head-to-toe, freckled face still and sallow against the starch-white hospital sheets-

A leather-jacketed form in the reflection behind you, Eddie’s hand solid on your back against the shuddering breaths wracking all the air from your lungs. You don’t flinch away this time.

Your beautiful boy. Steve. With his eye-crinkling smiles and sharp wit and gentle heart, stiff as a board in the middle of your living room, eyes rolled back in his skull like a downed deer, unreachable, just three hours ago.

“I thought it was Vecna. It’s been so long but I thought he’d come back, somehow, I was this close to running upstairs and grabbing our Walkman-”

”But you didn’t.” The hand at your back is joined by another at your arm as Eddie pulls you to face him, his gaze locking on your own, brown eyes full of grave compassion. “You heard the nurse. She said tipping him on his side was the best call you could’a made, sweetheart- you saved him.”

”But I didn’t know,” you insist, “I didn’t know that’s what would help, I just did it ‘cuz I was worried he was going to choke on his own tongue-”

“Semantics. You intuited it, then.” One of Eddie’s hands leaves your arm briefly to make a dismissive gesture through the air- “Which, in my book, is all the more impressive.”

Unconvinced, your voice small and tightening along with your chest- “What if this happens again, and he’s alone, this time? What if he’s working one of his three closing shifts a week, without Robin- what if he’s driving?”

You can’t help the spiraling of your thoughts, what-if scenarios jumping in line, each one more horrifying than the last.

Robin rises to stand beside Eddie, opens her mouth- to deny, to comfort, it’s unclear- but is interrupted by a new nurse who’s just appeared in the doorway.

“Mrs. Harrington?”

This snaps you back to earth, a bit, another watery laugh as Eddie takes a step back, allowing you to swipe at the mess of tears on your face before turning to the nurse- “Yeah. As good as, I guess. How’s he doing?”

With a last look at your friends, the nurse leads you down sickeningly-bright corridors while reading from a clipboard- most of it’s medical jargon, your foggy brain struggling to keep up as you stay on her heels.

What you gather, as you’re led to his room, is nothing new- Steve’s had a seizure, likely due to the trauma his brain incurred from the ‘earthquake’ of ‘86, and it’s unclear what triggered it, or if it’s likely to happen again.

“We’re going to keep him overnight, just to monitor his condition.” The nurse stops at a door labeled Room 202, hinges squeaking as she pushes it open. “He was really lucky, this time. Must’ve had a good guardian angel looking out for him.”

Heart thrumming thick in your throat, you almost ask the nurse to wait, to give you a second- maybe a quick bathroom break to splash some cold water against the tear-tracks, or even an extra few seconds to pretend at being stoic- but she’s already ushering you in with a kind smile.

The nurse pulls the door shut, and you’re left alone with the boy in the bed.

He looks exhausted, dark circles pulling at the soft skin below his eyes, which are full of relief, trained on you as you approach.

“Hey, there’s my girl.” There’s a scratchy quality to Steve’s voice, on its way to being lost.

You were doing really well, no crying or anything, before he spoke. But hearing him, paired with the awful sight of a medical cord wrapping around the width of his broad chest, has your face crumpling in an instant.

“Oh, shit. Aw, honey. C’mere-” Steve reaches for you, halfway to sitting up off his supporting pillows, and you quickly close the gap, sitting near his hip on the bed.

“No, hey- stay down,” you chide through the tears, pushing at the shoulder of his white hospital tee. “Don’t put any stress on your body.”

“Cut the stress, she says,” Steve grumbles, leaning back against the stack of pillows but compromising by pulling you in closer. “My baby’s crying, and she tells me no stress?”

His left palm slips over your cheek, thumb swiping away tears, while his right hand- IV taped flat over the back of it- slides to rest on your waist.

”Gonna tell me what’s wrong, hm?”

Under different circumstances, you’d laugh at his question- christ, where did he want you to start: but with that amber gaze so full of empathy, desperate to fix what’s making you sad, you’re stripped raw with sincerity.

”I was just- I was so scared, Steve-”

Steve pulls your face towards his, needily, a breath away from begging for a kiss before you lean in for one.

He tastes salty, like sweat and tears, lips plush and softly seeking against the seam of your own. Between the kisses, he’s mumbling apologies, “sorry, so sorry”, broken by the need to be as close to you as all the medical gear will allow.

There’s a soft noise from the back of his throat, and you pull away just enough to bump your nose into his, hands running up to push through the soft strands of his hair.

Steve practically purrs under your touch; you’re careful not to disturb the tubing wrapping around the length of his chest, leaning your weight into his shoulders instead.

A vein of hilarity spikes as you remember Steve’s last words before he went under: and here you were, fingers pulling at his dark roots, breaking his one request. When you start to giggle, Steve’s eyes pop open, baffled, hair sticking up at the ends when your fingers leave his hair. Both hands now squeezing at your hips, he feels left out of the joke- “What?”

“I just- nothing. Never mind. I’m really glad you’re okay.” It’s the truth. You frame his lovely face with your hands, kissing his forehead once before sitting up fully. “I don’t wanna fight about it here, okay? Let’s just focus on you feeling better, and then-”

“See, now, wait a minute-” Steve holds up a finger to interrupt. “You don’t get it. I’ve been hoping and praying for hours now that my pretty girlfriend would come in here just so we could have a good fight.”

He tweaks at the skin of your hips (with the IV-hand, so you can’t just smack it away, dammit), smiling up at you far too dreamily for someone reclining in a hospital bed.

Settling against the length of Steve’s torso, your arms cross over his stomach just under the tubing as you start, carefully- “You know, Max had one of these- when she was in the hospital?”

”Yeah, you’re right.” Steve’s hands worm their way under both your cardigan sleeves, seeking out the comfort of skin like a magnet- “Think it tracks heart rate. Or something.”

“Mm-hm. And… you know how she had to go to physical therapy three times a week? For, like, half the school year?”

Steve’s thumbs swipe absently at your wrists, a line pinched between his brows, trying to piece together your angle. “…yeah?”

“Takes a lot of time, to heal from something like that.” Your eyes drop to his chest, throat swelling with the effort of holding back a sob. “And I’m just- just thinking of all the times you might be alone, and how we could have prevented this, and-”

“Hey, hey, hey- shhh…” Steve soothes, shaking his head. “Honey, it was inevitable, okay? Nothing we could’a done. The doc told me this shit can happen, like, years after a big event. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Fighting against the wall of emotion that makes speaking harder, you return his head shake, desperate for understanding- “But you can’t promise that, baby. You had a seizure- an actual, medical emergency, and… we don’t know if it’ll happen again.”

With a purposeful straightening of your spine, you state, resolutely: “I want a different promise.”

Steve presses the crown of his head back into the pillows, melodramatic, resurfacing with a tsk. “So stubborn. What promise you want, then, huh?”

”I want you to promise that you’ll see a doctor- a real one. A head guy. Not some… family medicine quack.”

Steve grins, charming even while unusually pale- “I love it when you talk medical, really gets me going-”

He decides to bail on the rest of that sentence when he sees the flare of irritation on its way to real anger in your face, raising both hands in appeasement- “Okay. Hey- I promise to see a real head doc. I don’t intend on putting you through this again.”

WIth a sigh, you surge forward again, mumbling “Thank you” into Steve’s lips, a kiss of relief and gratitude. Best news you’ve heard all day.

His groans vibrate through you, hands running down the length of your side, near the bottom of your cardigan; you squeak at the intrusion of his cold palms on the bare skin of your waist but they warm quickly, and you’re willingly distracted as his tongue presses against the seam of your lips.

Perhaps not exactly hospital-appropriate, but as it’s been an evening full of adrenaline-filled panic and heartache, you figure some making out might be a good cure for the both of you.

“Won’t scare you like that again,” Steve says, lips already pink and spit-slick, intense and breathless as he clings to you between kisses- “Gonna be okay. You saved me, angel. Love you s’much…”

Your hand, previously resting on Steve’s knee, automatically slides up at his words, notching into the soft expanse of his inner thigh over the thin sheets- “Love you too, so much…”

A bright, electronic noise jolts into frantic beeping- the monitor that Steve’s hooked up to is loud enough to startle you into sitting up.

There’s no time to process or even rearrange yourselves before the nurse from earlier bustles into the room to glare at the machine’s screen; best you can do is a swipe across your mouth, hopefully hiding any evidence of moments-ago spit-swappage as you stammer out, “Um, yeah, sorry- h-he was trying to sit up and that set it off, I guess…?”

Steve lies placid and amenable against his pillows, giving the nurse a gold-medal grin, which unfortunately does nothing to allay her suspicions.

“Uh-huh.” The monitor alarm is stopped short with the press of a few buttons, and she gives Steve a sideways look, clipboard tucked under her arm- “You ready for your other visitors, Mr. Harrington, or should I give you a few more minutes?”

“Bring forth the party, Patricia.” Steve folds his hands behind his head, wincing when his IV gets bumped but covering it with a wink.

Nurse Patricia leaves. You cover your heated face, mortified- “Oh my god. She probably thought I was giving you a handjob or something, jesus, Steve-”

He’s outright laughing at you now, unable to help it- “Come on, no she didn’t. And even if she did…”

Steve is momentarily distracted, frowning down at his chest, following the monitor’s line to the machine; you watch through cracked fingers, his face lighting up, triumphant. “See, I bet if we unplug it from the wall same time as disconnecting it from here, we might be able to fit a handy under the radar, after all!”

Robin and Eddie enter the room just as you’re swatting Steve’s shoulder; over your subdued and mildly horrified laughter, he groans in faux-pain: “God, you two got here just in time. She’s beating me up for no reason.”

As Eddie settles into the plastic chair under the opposing wall’s window, you scooch down the mattress, patting the side closest to Steve with an encouraging smile at Robin.

She takes the seat, appreciative, her clammy hand slipping into yours for support as she addresses Steve: “Y’know, if you did this to get out of doing inventory this weekend, you could just say so.”

“You caught me, Robs,” Steve says, thumbing over her knuckles fondly. “Finally gonna join my conspiracy to make Keith’s life hell?”

You’re about to cut in, emphasizing that no one else should be making any hospital visits, when a metallic screech has the three of you on the bed whipping around.

Eddie’s managed to crack the barred window- judging by the sound, it hasn’t been opened since the 70s. He freezes with all the attention, then speaks around the cigarette clenched between his lips, suave again- “Pardon the interruption. Anyone else care for a smoke?”

Everyone in the room blinks at him, in various stages of disbelief; Steve starts laughing, first, which gets Robin going, and eventually you, too, until Eddie’s grinning around the cigarette, lighter halfway to his mouth as he chuckles- “Well, can’t say I didn’t offer…”

Robin makes a comment about nicotine fumes, which quickly devolves into her and Eddie fiercely bickering.

The elevated chatter of your friends fades into the background as Steve takes your hand atop the sheets, head tilted to get you in his line of sight again- love you, he mouths.

Love you, too.

#steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader

151 notes · View notes

lw6-woso · 9 months

Text

in love with an insomniac (Mapi leon X reader)

(gif not mine)

growing up sleep was always a struggle for you especially during your teenage years, both your parents and you pushed it aside thinking it was just hormones, however, it got worse and worse by the time you were 17 to the point where it affected not just your school work but also your football and that's when you got concerned.

after several doctor's appointments and the age of 17, you were diagnosed with insomnia and were given some medication to help. you were now 26 in the prime of your footballing career not just thriving at your club Barcelona but also in your national team for England, even life was good in a happy relationship of 4 years with Mapi everything was just good.

your insomnia never really bothered you as much but there were still moments when it popped up out of nowhere and caused trouble. and it started to creep up on you.

mapi was fully aware of your struggle with sleep, as everyone remembers where you passed out from exhaustion during training after not sleeping for two days straight when having intense training sessions. she helped you find ways to tire yourself out, little things like reading, yoga, cleaning anything harmless that you could do.

it was the week before the champions league final and tensions were high and so was your anxiety, you spent your free time going over old matches from the opposing team and finding their weaknesses and strengths and mainly what made them click as a team, and this triggered it.

three nights it had been where you struggled to sleep and every night it got harder you were trying everything and nothing really worked and it had come to the point where you were just laying in bed next to a fast asleep mapi in your arms staring up at the ceiling wishing, hoping that sleep would come but it never did. mapi slowly caught on after finding you organising and cleaning every inch of the kitchen at 5 in the morning.

"love," Mapi said scaring you.

"hey babe what you doing up," you asked knowing Mapi loved her sleep almost as much as you.

"why aren't you alseep and why are you organising the kitchen," she asked.

"i couldn't sleep so I thought i might as well it's been on my to-do list for a while" you said going back to cleaning.

"come on let's go to bed" Mapi said grabbing your hand and pulling you back to bed hoping for a couple of hours of sleep.

"i think you need to go to the doctor or talk to someone can see it's getting bad again and it's not healthy" Mapi said stroking the side of your face.

"i talked to my doctor yesterday they said they were going to up my dose a little bit, I'm going to pick it up tomorrow well technically this morning" you said snuggling into her trying to be tired out.

"Okay that's good" she said kissing my head.

you sat in silence for a little bit knowing that neither of us where going to fall back to sleep you said "Shall we go walk on the beach"

mapi smiled and nodded that the beach and ocean were one of hers and your favourite things to do together. you got in some comfy clothes and walked hand in hand down the beach before having to head home to get ready for training.

*3 days later*

it had been three days since you were taking your new prescription your doctor gave you and it seem to have helped, but the only downfall was that your body was exhausted and wanting to catch up with the missing sleep which wasn't ideal with your busy schedule but your body didn't like that.

and this is shown when you fell alseep on Mapi's lap during a ten-minute training break.

"I have never seen her sleep this much or hard before," Alexia said who was one of your best friends.

"neither to be honest her body needs the rest" Mapi said as Johaton walked over and noticed the two girls.

"at least we know that she is sleeping come on you can leave her to sleep and she's in the shade" he said understanding the difficulty of what you had been going through.

mapi tried to move you so she could go back to training but you were having non of it having a tight grip on her. She stayed in her original position, and instead of you watching her sleep peacefully it was Mapi watching you get the sleep you needed even though it was on a football pitch in the middle of training.

#women football #woso community #woso imagine #barca femini #engwnt #espwnt #mapi león #fcb femeni #mapi leon #alexia putellas #jenni hermoso #barca femeni #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #wwc 2023 #womens world cup

617 notes · View notes

yelenasdiary · 7 months

Text

When The Time Comes

Pairing: Military! Yelena Belova x Fem! Nurse! Reader

Summary: After a traumatic experience, Yelena worries about your well-being.

Warnings: Dark Themes, Mentions of War, Kidnapping, Details of Torture, PTSD, Depression, Details of Murder, Gore, Mentions of Blood, Scaring, Medical Talk | 3.3K

Translations:lyubov' (love), detka (baby),

AC:Some of you may have already seen a dot point of this fic so here’s the full fic!

October Special Masterlist

4:03am your wife was woken by a long-awaited phone call, quickly turning over and picking up the phone, "Belova" she answers without a hint of lack of sleep in her voice. The voice on the other end of the line wastes no time in informing the highly skilled sniper that after two long, stressful, and worrying months, her wife has been found.

"Is she okay? Can I talk to her? I'll get the first flight over!" Yelena's mind is racing. She knows the stress and worry isn't over, but her commanding officer assures her that you were treated with the best of care and should be landing in the states within a few short hours. Little information was shared with the blonde who didn't take notice of the time when she called Natasha.

"Lena, it's 4am, is everything okay?" Natasha's low, raspy, and tired voice travels through the phone. Yelena once again not caring to take notice of the time, "They found her!" She replies while she gets out of bed and slides on her slippers. She can tell by the shift in Natasha's voice that the red head has shot up from her laying position, "are you sure?!"

"Positive, they said she'll be landing in New York in a few hours. Can you watch Natalia for me? Please?" Yelena asks as she walks down the hall to your daughter's bedroom, peaking her head through the crack of the door to check on the three-year-old who was asleep peacefully snuggling her favorite plushie.

"Of course, I'll be over soon" Natasha replies before hanging up the line.

Hours passed as Yelena waited patiently alone in the hospital's waiting room, 9:28am and they were still checking you out and not a single word on your wellbeing was mentioned to your wife. Small cups of coffee filled the bin as Yelena's mind ran over scenario after scenario, her right knee bouncing uncontrollably as other patients' family members came and went. Some leaving in tears of grief while others left with sighs of relief.

Lost in her thoughts, Yelena didn't even notice Natasha taking a seat beside her and placing her hand on her sister's knee. It wasn't until Natasha's thumb stroked Yelena's knee that the blonde's eyes turned to meet her sister.

"Wands has Natalia" Natasha spoke softly reading the look on her sister's face. Yelena nodded as she leant back in her chair, "any news?" Nat asked.

"Nothing" Yelena replied while she tried to fight back her tears, wanting to stay as strong as she possibly could for you.

"Mrs Belova?" a doctor asked as they entered the waiting room, Yelena's eyes shot up to meet the eyes of a tired woman as she took off her surgical cap.

"That's me" Yelena replied, standing from her chair before she could even blink. Natasha was standing beside her, both looking at the doctor for answers. Her eyes scanned the waiting room, "come with me please, somewhere more private" she replied. Her words made Yelena's stomach drop, her mind now filling with her biggest fear as she and Natasha followed the woman in scrubs with a white coat down the hall, taking a left and into a room with soldiers standing guard outside.

"Please just cut the crap, is she okay?" Yelena's eyes looked deeply into the doctor's in hopes of finding answers. The woman took a deep breath, her own eyes looking at Natasha before back at Yelena, "she's my sister, please!" Yelena added.

"Mrs Belova, your wife okay. We would like to keep her in for a week before sending home, she's malnourished and some of her injuries we are going to keep an eye on in case of an infection. She's extremely weak at the moment but physically, she will make a full recovery. I have requested that our psychiatrist comes down to speak to you, they will be able to inform you of your wife's mental health" the doctor who forgot to introduce herself explained, her name tag reading "Dr Katherine Campbell".

"I'd rather see my wife first, please" Yelena pleaded just wanting to see you for herself.

"I'm sorry but I think it's best you wait" Dr Campbell's eyes shifted to Natasha in hopes she'd help make the stressed blonde understand. Natasha looked at Yelena, placing a hand on her forearm, "let's just wait for the psychiatrist, you'll want to know everything there is" Nat agrees with the doctor just as another woman knocks and enters the room.

"Here she is" Doctor Campbell smiled softly at the other woman.

"Hi, Mrs Belova, is it?" the woman smiled, reaching her hand out to shake Yelena's, "I'm Dr Jenna Hemmings, please take a seat" she added before also shaking Natasha's hand. The four women took a seat at the large, rounded table, Yelena's knee bouncing once again as she watched the psychiatrist open up a file of documents that had your name on them.

"I'm very sorry for what you've been through over the last three months, I don't have a lot to discuss in terms of where your wife is at mentally, but, I have seen her and I from what I have seem I can give you a rough idea on what to expect" Dr Hemmings began as she looked between the two sisters.

"It's my understanding that your wife has suffered from serious and extreme torture during her captivity. I have seen many cases unfortunately and I just want to let you know that it's not going to be easy. Y/n may become distant and feel disconnected from what she knows. Who she was before the kidnapping may take some time to return, I'm going to give you a list of other psychiatrists for you to make an appointment with then Y/n feels ready to talk about the events. It's important that you do not push her to talk, if she wants too, listen.

Do you share any children together?" She goes on. Yelena nodded, "A three year old, Natalia"

"As hard as this will be on your daughter, it'll be best if she has somewhere else to stay with the first week that Y/n is home"

"You want me to keep my daughter from seeing her mother?" Yelena frowned in confusion.

"This is just until you and Y/n's psychiatrist have a better understanding of her PTSD" Dr Hemmings replied. Natasha assured Yelena that the little girl could stay with her, Wanda and the boys for as long as needed. "Can I just see my wife now? Please? whatever else you need to discuss, I'm sure we can do later" Yelena begs once more.

Dr Hemmings nodded lightly, "I'll let Dr Campbell explain your wife's injuries"

-A Week Later-

Since being home, Yelena has cared for you day in, day out. She tended to the wounds that covered your back, changing the bandages and cleaning them. She did the same for the grazes and cuts on your face, arms, legs and thighs. She showered you, clothed you and fed you, all while you could barely bring yourself to say a single word.

The bedroom was kept dark, anytime Yelena opened the blinds to let some sunlight in, you got up and closed them before getting back in to bed to sleep the day away. A psychiatrist had stopped by twice since you came home, but even she couldn't get you to speak. She suggested to Yelena that it would be in your best interest to start antidepressants which you took without a fight.

"Good morning lyubov'" Yelena spoke softly as she got on her knees in your view, your eyes glued to the dark gray wall behind her. Looking into your eyes, Yelena only saw the ghost of the woman she loved. She gently stroked your face with her left thumb, "Natalia is coming home this morning, do you feel up to seeing her?" she asked. Your eyes shifted and connected with the worried eyes of your wife's, the first time you really looked at her since the hospital. You shook her head before turning to your other side, giving Yelena the view of your clothed back.

"Okay lyubov', we'll try again tomorrow. I'll go get you some breakfast" Yelena said in defeat. She hoped that the idea of seeing your daughter would bring something new out of you, that you'd get out of bed and come downstairs for the first time.

Yelena returned 20 minutes later with toast, orange juice, your medication and some vitamins placing them on your bedside table. She kissed your cheek and whispered how much she loved you before letting you fall back asleep in the darkness.

"I miss mommy" Natalia pouted as she picked up another slice of apple from her plastic plate. "I know dorogoy, mommy isn't feeling well at the moment but she's getting better, she's getting plenty of sleep so she can play with you again" Yelena assures the little girl before placing a kiss on her forehead, "how about mac n cheese for dinner?" She asks. Natalia perks up instantly, nodding with excitement, "Mac n cheese!!!!" She claps with a mouth full of apple.

Night time came, Natalia was bathed, fed and tucked in bed fast asleep after Yelena read her a bedtime story. She can't stop her mind from remembering when you and her would read a fairytale together for the growing child, switching voices, giggles full of life filling the room before the angel drifts off to sleep. Not only did Yelena miss you, but so did Natalia. A drawing of the three of you in crayons sat on the toddlers drawing table, mommy in bed just like her mama said.

When Yelena came to bed, it was the only time you felt safe again. You instantly felt her arms wrap around you, pulling you close as she knew you'd been waiting all day for her to come back to bed. "How are you feeling detka?" She asks in a soft tone, you wanted to answer her, to give her a form of words but nothing left your lips. Tears filled your eyes as you brought her hand to your lips, kissing the top of her hand to let her know you were here, you heard her, you loved her.

-1 Month Later-

As time went on, Yelena was doing her best to give you everything you needed but her growing thoughts were becoming darker by the day. She wasn't going to push you to talk about what happened, but she couldn't help but picture just how you got the wounds on your back. She was positive they would turn into scars and she worried for when the time would come and you'd notice them never fading away. She wanted to know if you were tortured into not speaking of the events that happened, she hasn't heard your voice since you woke up in the hospital. "Just tired" were the last words she heard you speak.

The meditation didn't seem like it was working in Yelena's eyes, you still didn't have the energy to get out of bed, to talk, to eat or even shower. Natalia hounded her mama daily for when she could see her mommy and on the one chance you nodded at Yelena's request for the young girl to see you, it broke her. Natalia of course, didn't entirely understand what was wrong with you and she didn't take your actions to heart, but deep down, Yelena did. Natalia had tried to show you a drawing she did at day care, you took one look at the colorful drawing before you looked back at Yelena who was standing behind your daughter, you shook your head at her than turned to lay with your back facing them.

It wasn't until one night when Yelena had gotten into bed with you rather early, she mentioned Natalia was staying at Natasha and Wanda's for the night. She held you in silence for hours until you turned and looked at her. Tears pooled at your eyes before slowly making their way down your cheeks, your wife wiping them away gently with the touch of her thumb as she placed a loving kiss on your forehead before looking into your broken eyes once more.

"What do you need detka? How can I help you get through this?" Yelena asked and for the first time since everything, you weren't looking through her. You could see how tired she was, the stress and worry of everything creeping in on her. Slowly you sat up and took a deep breath, Yelena sat up with you keeping a close eye on your body language.

"Can I make us a hot coco?" you asked. Yelena couldn't help but smile softly as she nodded. Happy she finally heard your voice since you were at the hospital, no longer having to repeat the last words you spoke to her, "just tired" running through her head.

You returned to the bedroom with two mugs of hot coco and a large yellow envelope, placing it on the end of the bed before handing Yelena her drink. "If I tell you everything, c-can you write it down for the report, please?" you asked, sipping your drink and placing it on your bedside table. Yelena nodded without a second thought, "of course detka, are you sure you're up for this?" she asked, just to be sure.

"Are you sure you want to hear it?" you asked her in reply, worried that the details you had to share for the report would upset her. "If I am the only person you feel safe enough to tell, I am here to listen detka. I've got your back like you've got mine" she reminded you as she placed her mug on her bedside table and grabbed the envelope and pen. You took another deep breath and closed your eyes for a moment, remembering the moment you were taken captive.

"I just finished my shift, Lisa, Jasmine and I were walking back to our rooms when 3 masked men ambushed us, one grabbed Lisa and dragged her towards the bush, he had large knife to her neck. Another put a bag over Jasmine's head, they told us to keep quiet or they'd kill us. I screamed for help, but one guy hit me over the head with his gun and I blacked out. When I woke up, I had a shackle on my left ankle, my hands tied behind my back and a bag over my head.

I could hear the girls screaming and crying for help, the place smelt unbearable…like death. I tried to keep the girls calm, I told them we'd be safe soon, to keep quiet or they'd hurt us but we were all so scared.

They kept us like that for hours, days maybe. I wasn't sure, it was too dark with the bag over my head. When they came back, one guy removed the bag, he was wearing a mask and had his gun pointed directly at me. There was a small cup of water and a bread roll on the floor, he told me to eat, or he'd shoot me. I was so hungry, that when he cut me free, I don't think I even swallowed much of the roll, the water was dirty but I didn't care. I asked him about the girls, but he just kneed me in the face to shut me up.

It was like that for days until the ringleader came, he had an interpreter with him, he didn't speak one word of English. He said that if our country cared enough about us, they'd stop the war and go home and leave us behind to become slaves." You spoke slowly so Yelena could write but halfway through, she decided that typing it up would be a lot faster.

"Things got worse, every time we did something wrong, we got less food and water, a beating and placed in this room that felt like it was on fire. It was so hot in there, sometimes they threw me in there just because I didn't eat fast enough. Lisa tried to escape but they caught her, they dragged me into this room with her and ha-" you paused as tears streamed down your face.

"Detka, we can take a break, it's okay" Yelena's hands reached for yours but you shook your head, "I don't want never want to speak about this ever again, I have to do this now" you replied, wiping your tears before taking a mouthful of your hot coco.

"He handed me a gun and told me to shoot her but I couldn't. I tried to plead with him, saying she won't do it again but that just gave me a beating. He beat me with a rusty pipe wrapped with barbed wire, that's that the marks on my back are from. I've never felt so much pain…I was crying so much that eventually he grabbed me by my hair and made me watch" you paused once more, your body shaking with fear as you recalled the details of what happened to your friend. Your wife was quick to put the laptop aside and instantly wrapped you in her arms, pulling you close into her as you broke down.

Through your sobs, you continued to explain the events you endured. "T…T-they beheaded her like it was nothing! There was blood very where, I was c-crying! Screaming! They tossed her h-he…to me and told me if I didn't shut u-up that w-would be me" You gripped onto your wife for life, she held you tightly as she cried with you. Kissing the top of your head for comfort.

----

3:38am, you were passed out asleep, tired from the crying and recalling. Yelena watched over you, her arms wrapped around you. She knew it was going to be a long road of recovery ahead, but she had every faith in you.

By morning, you woke up to an empty bed, but you felt differently. You sat up, stretched and slipped into your robe before making your way downstairs to see Yelena making waffles with your daughter. You smiled softly to yourself before making yourself known to your girls.

"Mommy!!!" Natalia came running into your arms. You hugged her tightly, kissing her cheek, "you feel better?" she asked. You nodded, "a little bit my love" you replied before putting her down on her feet. Yelena turned around and smiled lovingly at you, "Natalia, can you please get your sippy cup?" she asked the little girl to distract her for a moment so she could talk to you.

"I sent your report this morning" Yelena informed you with a kiss on your cheek. "Thank you, darling" you wrapped your arms around her, "what's on your mind?" you asked her, seeing she'd been thinking.

"He's still out there" she replied, her jaw clenching at the thought of the man who tortured you for months walking free in his own country. You knew instantly from her tone what she was thinking, and you knew there would be no way to stop her, in fact, you didn't even want to stop her.

"I know and if the time comes, I don't want you to think twice" You cupped her face, "let him suffer…he's already taken enough from me, take everything from him" you added looking into her eyes. "Here mama!" Natalia's voice broke the silent agreement between you two.

It would be a year until Yelena returned to war, she wanted to stay with you until you knew well enough to look after yourself once more. Now with a four year old and your wife off finding the man who covered you in scars, physically and mentally, you made the decision to never return to the warzone but would continue your work at the veterans clinic.

#yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #fanfiction #marvel #florence pugh #darktober #black widow #military! yelena

274 notes · View notes

thetriumphantpanda · 11 months

Text

Ghost of You | J. Miller (Chapter One)

Series Summary / Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller.

Pairing / Joel Miller x Female Reader

Word Count / 3.4K

Warnings / soft!Joel, reader is a widow, in depth discussions and descriptions of grief and depression, will have eventual smut, SLOW BURN.

Authors Note / I AM SO PROUD OF THIS LITTLE STORY YOU HAVE NO IDEA. I've wanted to write soft!Joel for so long so I hope you love it as much as I do! If you do enjoy it, reblogs, asks and likes are my drug so I'd love to know what you think! Also considering following for more!

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. There were days that you couldn’t bring yourself to throw back the sheets of your bed and get up. For the first month, you think you managed to shower three times. No point if no-one was going to see you. You hadn’t left your house since the day of the funeral, life had become a monotonous circle of waking up, soaking your pillow with tears until you made yourself sick, throwing on the same clothes as before and then doing the same thing but led on the couch.

People had reassured you it would get easier. That each day it would subside, little by little, and you cursed them for being right. The longer you sat with your misery, the easier it became. One morning, a few months ago, you remember waking up, only this time you didn’t roll over and place your hand on the empty side of the bed and cry when you realized your husband wasn’t there anymore. You got up and showered, taking 15 minutes to brush the matted mess of your hair, and you dressed in new clothes.

You managed to walk to the market hall and purchase food with your ration cards and Maria had almost fallen over when she saw you in the aisle. That was the worst thing though. You’d been absent from life in Jackson for almost six months, and whenever you left your house people looked at you. Some still had those sympathetic eyes, telling you they were sorry for your loss, but there were the others who judged you. How pathetic you were for falling into despair like you had.

It wasn’t as if he’d met a violent end, he was quite lucky, actually. In this world death came at the hands of evil, whether it was being taken and tortured by raiders, or torn limb from limb by infected. Your husband had died peacefully, drifting off in his sleep in the hospital. The doctors had said it was cancer, which seemed painfully unkind to him. He’d never smoked in his life and was probably the healthiest person you’d ever known, but when was life ever fair?

You could tell they whispered once you’d passed. How dare she be so upset when my husband was killed on patrol? How lucky you were to have been able to say goodbye and hold his hand as he passed, when someone else turned into one of those things all alone. So now it wasn’t grief that kept you behind closed doors, but shame. Shame at knowing you thought they were right, that not being able to pull yourself together was selfish. Selfish to all the people who had managed to carry on with their lives after losing someone, selfish to the community for not being able to pull your weight. You were stuck and you had no idea what to do about it.

The only way you could face leaving your home these days was on Maria’s comforting arm. She’d been your friend for years, she and Tommy seemingly the only people who understood you. Didn’t force you to do anything, let you come to your own decisions when you felt ready. No-one would dare look at you or speak in hushed tones whilst she was around.

The sun was soaking Jackson now, it was summer, and you were grateful for the warmth of the sun on your skin, everything felt better with the sun on your back. With summer came one of your favourites of life’s simple pleasures. Strawberries. In the market you picked up as many as you could purchase after buying your essentials. Maria walked you home, helped you put away everything and then left with a comforting hug.

You carefully placed a large handful of the fruit in a bowl, rinsing it under running water. You were about to sit down on your couch to eat them, but the sun was filtering invitingly through your front windows. You stripped off your jacket, leaving you in your simple tank top and jeans before opening your front door to sit on the bench on your porch. You had sunglasses resting on your face, Tommy had found them on a patrol trip a few months ago and you were grateful for the safety you felt from them. People couldn’t walk past and meet your eye.

You were finishing your third strawberry when Tommy walked past, a man you didn’t know on his left shoulder. He took a look to your house and smiled on seeing you sat in a patch of sunlight, he waved, which you return, then he turns to the mysterious man on his left to say something before they start walking over.

“It’s good to see you out, honey,” He smiled, walking to lean over the railing of your porch, “What’cha got there?” He asked, motioning his head to your bowl of strawberries.

“You want one?” You asked, picking the bowl up and walking over to meet him, he gladly takes the biggest fruit in the bowl, pinching the spidery leaves off before putting the whole thing in his mouth, “How about you?” You asked, extending the bowl to Tommy’s mysterious companion.

He takes a strawberry as well, doing as Tommy did, but he takes smaller bites of the fruit, like he’s savoring it, “This here’s my brother Joel,” Tommy speaks, Joel extends his hand and you take it, shaking it softly in greeting, “He arrived a few weeks back, he’s been getting settled with his daught… with Ellie, but I thought it was high time he started pulling his weight.”

He had a smirk on his face as he said it and you could see the beginnings of a smile on Joel’s face too, “This one’s a real taskmaster,” You say to Joel, a smirk across your lips, “You’ll be wishing we had a retirement age soon enough.”

“Can’t think where he gets it from,” Joel chuckles, “You were takin’ notes all the time we worked together before weren’t you?”

Tommy smiles and nods, “Learnt from the best,” There’s another round of chuckles from the men, “Listen, we should get a move on, but I mean it, it’s nice to see you out like this.”

“Thanks Tommy,” You offer a small smiled, “Here, take a strawberry for the road.”

Both men take another fruit gladly before the way and make their way back down the street, leaving you on your own once more. You slide the sunglasses back onto your eyes and take your place in the path of sunlight on the bench. You sit there for a while, eating your strawberries, thinking about all the times you and your husband had done the same, holding hands as the sunset, cuddling up into his side when the temperature dropped. You realized suddenly that you weren’t sad. That the tears that usually threatened to fall were nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was just a feeling of happiness, grateful that you’d experienced love in a world where it had seemed impossible. Sure, you wished he would reach over and take your hand in his like he used to, squeeze it and place a soft kiss to your palm, but you were no longer ruled by the grief that had consumed you all those months ago.

“She seemed nice.” Joel muses as he walks with Tommy.

“She’s lovely,” He replies simply, “Just had a pretty rough time of it recently.”

Joel hums in acknowledgement as his boots hit the ground in time with Tommy’s, “When you said it was good to see her out, what did you mean?”

Tommy sighs at his question, but not out of frustration like he usually did when Joel asked him questions, more out of sympathy, “Her husband died about a year ago,” He begins to explain, “Nothin’ violent or anythin’ like that, the doctors reckoned it was cancer, but she took it real hard, I don’t think she got out of bed for the first week, and then after his funeral she just kinda withdrew, she’s been all alone in that house for months, refuses to leave unless it’s with Maria because people talk.”

“People talk about her?” Joel is shocked, in a world where loss in inevitable, what makes someone else’s grief less worthy than others?

“We’re safe here,” Tommy says, steering him into a building at the end of the street, “But that doesn’t mean people don’t die when they’re out there,” He references his patrol men, he’d lost a few which he would always hold heavy in his heart, “Maria told me once that when she took her to the market a few months ago, some busybody wives were talkin’ about how unfair it was she got to say goodbye, that he’d been sedated and it was easy for him.”

Joel stops in his tracks, letting Tommy walk in front of him. They’re in the gun store, not for anything in particular, just so Joel knows where everything is so he can stop following his brother round like a lost puppy. His mind inevitably wanders to his own grief in this moment. The pain of losing his own daughter, the all-consuming feeling of ‘what is the point in life anymore?’ without her. The scar on the right side of his face and the hearing loss in the same ear when he’d tried to end it all. He hadn’t been strong, not really. If he hadn’t of flinched that would have been it, the easy way out, as some would have said. He’d struggled for a long time with his survival but that didn’t mean his was worth more than your grief, or yours more than his. It wasn’t that simple.

“I spoke to them, told ‘em if I heard ‘em gossiping again then we’d have no issues moving them on their way, but I suppose people are always going to talk, they just do it where we can’t hear them.”

“I’m guessin’ she knows?”

“Of course she knows, Joel, that’s why she shuts herself away, easier that way I guess.”

“Doesn’t make it fair though, feelin’ like you can’t leave your house because people are gonna judge the way your husband died.”

“She’s been better recently,” Tommy speaks, leaning against the table behind him, “Still won’t really go anywhere without Maria, but seein’ her today, it was nice.” Joel nods his way through Tommy explaining the signing out system for guns, follows him around to the stables where he shakes the hand of the young girl in charge of caring for them and then settles himself next to his brother at the bar for a drink. All the while, he can’t stop his mind drifting back to you and your loneliness, your despair at your loss, or the rotten porch step he’d noticed at the front of your house that might just give him the reason to get a little closer to you.

A few mornings later, there is a soft knock at your door. Your face contorts in confusion, Maria wasn’t supposed to come until tomorrow. Leaving the coffee pot to its filtering, you walk slowly to the door, opening it to find Joel stood on your porch, toolbox in hand and planks of wood resting against the railing.

“Good mornin’,” He croons, “Not interrupin’ anythin’ am I?”

You shake your head, “Can I help you?” You asked, wincing slightly at the defensive tone of your voice.

“Well, I hope you don’t mind, but when I passed with Tommy the other day, I noticed your porch step was rotting,” He points to the old timbers behind him, “I’m surprised you’ve not fallen through it already, so do you mind if I fix them?”

Your exterior softens and a small smile pulls at your lips, “Of course,” You say, “I’m just making some coffee, do you want some?”

“If you don’t mind sharin’, then I’d love some.”

You leave him on the porch to get started. Your mug is already set next to the coffee pot, you open the cupboard and instinctively reach for the only other mug you ever needed. It had meant nothing to you when you moved in. It was white and had a pattern of sausage dogs printed on it, but it had always been his. You hold it in your hands when you realise what you’ve done. His face flashes behind your eyes. He’s standing in front of you, his hair tousled from sleep, his voice still low and raspy. He thanks you as he takes hold of his mug, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You set it back in the cupboard like it had burned your palms, reaching instead of the plain black mug at the back of the cupboard.

You rest your palms on the counter, closing your eyes to take deep breaths, feeling the weight of your body through to the ground. Once you don’t feel the wave of sadness flowing through you any longer, your quickly pour the coffee into the mugs, taking them out to the porch where Joel is currently working to take the rotten boards up, not that it’s taking much work, a little force from his hands and the wood in crumbling.

“Here you go,” You say softly, setting the mug down next to his toolbox, “I hope you don’t mind it black, I spent all my rations on strawberries this week, so no milk.”

“Just how I like it,” He says, looking up at you, “Thank you.”

You take a seat on the bench out front, it’s been a long time since you had the company of someone that wasn’t Maria or Tommy and it was nice to watch him work whilst you sat in the sun.

“Thank you, by the way, I didn’t realise it had gotten so bad,” You remark, and before you can think about what you’re saying, you add, “My husband always used to handle this stuff.”

You press your fingers to your lips as Joel’s movement still slightly, he knows what you’ve said, but he continues working, “It’s alright, this is what I used to do before all of this, so I’ve got an eye for rotting wood.”

“You were a builder?” You asked, desperate to steer the conversation away from your loss.

“I was, Tommy and I were contractors, worked on a bunch of different sites together, kinda annoying the world ended, we’d just booked a really big job, was gonna pay the bills and then some for once, my daughter had already spent the money on a trip to Disney.”

“Ellie?” You enquire, remembering the name Tommy had given.

He shakes his head as he sits back on his knees, coffee mug in hand, “No, she’s not mine by blood, she came along a lot later, I lost my daughter on outbreak day.”

“Oh,” You say simply, “I’m sorry Joel.”

“It’s alright,” He shrugs, taking a mouthful of coffee, “I struggled, for a long time, didn’t see how it was fair, but it’s been easier recently, all because of Ellie, and this.” He motions around to the town.

You’re silent for a while, your gaze flits between Joel working and the dregs of liquid in your cup. You understand in a way. The loss is different, but it’s loss all the same.

“What was his name?” Joel asks quietly as he’s rooting through his toolbox for some nails, “Your husband.”

“Mark,” You speak quietly, realizing quickly it was probably too quiet for him to hear, “His name was Mark.”

“Were you together long?”

“Eighteen years,” You answer, “He was my neighbour in the first QZ I was in, I’d lost my parents a few years before the outbreak so I was on my own, he moved in a year later and would always wake me up every morning when he stomped about to go to work,” You were smiling, recounting how you’d met, “One morning I’d had enough, I went right over there, pounded on the door and gave him what for. Said I was tired of waking up to the sound of his work boots every morning, and I guess the rest is history.”

Joel smiles as he reaches for his hammer, nailing in the new boards, “Love at first sight?” He asked, worried at first that it’s too personal a question.

“Something like that,” You offer in reply, “I guess it just kinda happened really, like most things do.”

There’s silence between you again as Joel hammers in the last of the nails. He stands up, pressing his full weight on the step, “All done,” He declares, shutting away his toolbox, “Don’t have to worry about you fallin’ through it now.”

You stand up to admire his handiwork, you must admit he was good at what he did. Efficient but thorough, the step had never looked so good, even when you’d first moved in, “Thank you Joel,” You place a hand on his arm and give it a gentle squeeze, “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” He bends to pick up his coffee mug and hands it over to you, “Nothin’ else need sorting?”

“I mean, nothing that risks death or serious injury,” You jest, “But there is something you might be able to help with.”

You gesture for him to follow you through the house, setting the dirty mugs in the sink as you pass through. You open the back door and motion for him to join you. The garden is a mess, there’s no beating around the bush here. The grass is out of control, but that’s because you haven’t been able to go and get your gas ration for the lawnmower. The decking out back is fine, Mark’s handiwork in the year before he died, but you point to the unfinished table and chairs in the corner, or rather the pile of wood that never got to become the table and chairs.

“Mark was going to build some table and chairs, you know, so we could have guests over or sit out here in the evenings, but he got sick before he could really start,” There’s a lump in your throat now and you’re willing yourself not to cry, not now, in front of a man you barely know, but nothing you do can quell the feeling inside of you and a few tears fall down your cheek, “God, I’m so sorry,” You sniffed, “I’ve done so well not to do this today.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” Joel soothes, he pressed a firm hand to your shoulder for comfort but keeps his distance, which you are grateful for.

He gives you a moment to compose yourself, watching closely as you rub the tears from your eyes and take a deep breath, “It would just be nice to have somewhere to sit where people aren’t going to watch me.”

Joel’s heart almost breaks at your words. He doesn’t know you, not in the slightest, but the thought that you felt like you had to hide away, in your own community, the place that was meant to make you feel some semblance of normal, was preposterous to him.

“I’ll build you something, don’t worry,” He reassures, “Tommy has me on patrol for the next few days, but as soon as I can, I promise I’ll build you the best damn table and chairs you’ve ever seen.”

You laugh now, through the remnants of your tears, “Thank you.” Is all you can manage to say.

He’s turning around then, you go to follow him, but he stops in his tracks, eyes admiring the trellis against the back wall of your home, full in bloom of sweet peas, “These are beautiful.” He comments.

“They’re sweet peas,” You inform him, “Maria found the seeds for me, said something about it being good for me to have something to put my energy into,” You shrug, “I guess she was right.”

You reach out and pluck one of the deep purple blooms, “These are my favourites,” You say, turning the bloom over in your fingers before you hand it to him, he looks confused, “Sweet peas are meant to symbolize kindness and friendship,” You explain, “Also fond goodbyes, but I think kindness is more appropriate here.”

He takes the bloom and tucks the stem into the breast pocket, the petals of the flower peeking out where you can both see it, “Well then, thank you,” He nods, “I’ll see you soon, sweet pea.”

PREV | NEXT

#Pedro Pascal #the last of us #the last of us hbo #Joel Miller #Joel Miller smut #Joel Miller fanfic #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller fan fiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #Joel Miller Pedro Pascal #GOY

469 notes · View notes

shakespeareanwannabe · 1 month

Text

As You Wish, Chapter 8

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings/Disclaimers: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, breastfeeding, swearing, angst, tears, references to drinking, sadness, references to divorce, kids doing sneaky things, adults doing sneaky things, references to babies

San Diego, California, almost 12 years ago

Buttercup slowly rocked in her chair, the slight breeze from the open window fluttering the pale-yellow curtains that she had hung so carefully while Jake had been deployed. Of course, he had lost his ever-loving shit when he had come home to find the nursery half decorated and the furniture half built, but the hour-long lecture about taking it easy during pregnancy and not doing any heavy lifting had been worth it.

The nursery was exactly as she had pictured it, once Jake had finished building the furniture and Javy and Bob had finished painting the walls the pale-yellow she had chosen. The mural of pink and purple butterflies she had painted on the wall looked so perfect behind the dark cherry wood cribs, and the colours perfectly matched the crib bedding she had ordered.

She had poured her heart and soul into decorating the nursery, their forever home…and now she was leaving it. Her bags were packed and stacked by the door. She was just waiting for Jake to return with Abby so they could go their separate ways.

Buttercup sniffled as she looked down at the tiny baby suckling on her breast. “I hope you know that I would take you both with me in a heartbeat if I could,” she whispered down to her sweet Charlie. “But we have to be fair. And…” she choked back a sob. “Your sister needs me more than you do right now.”

Abby’s weight had been dropping steadily in the weeks since the divorce had been finalized, and Buttercup’s doctor thought that the stress of it all had been affecting her milk supply, and so had recommended switching Charlie to formula so that Abby could absorb all the extra nutrients she needed. Therefore, when the judge had agreed to their abnormal custody arrangement, Buttercup had made the difficult decision to take Abby, leaving Jake with all the pumped breastmilk she had stored so that Charlie wouldn’t have to transition to formula right away.

Still, the decision had nearly broken her, as much as the decision to divorce her husband had.

“I’ll see you again soon,” she whispered as Charlie released her. Buttercup lifted her daughter onto her shoulder and patted her back. “As soon as your dad’s schedule calms down a little and I get settled in my new home, we’ll start figuring out how to share custody, okay? But I promise you, Charlie. I love you and I will miss you so much.” Buttercup’s shoulders heaved with the effort it took not to break down into sobs. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. You don’t deserve any of this happening to you. I’m sorry we couldn’t make it work. I’m sorry I can’t take both of you. I…I’m so sorry.”

Buttercup snuggled Charlie closer and gently rocked, willing time to either slow down or just stop. It was moments like this that made her second guess every decision she had made in her life. Feelings of failure and shame washed over her as easily as the ocean washed over the sand in the distance. She had failed the sweet little girl in her arms and her sister. They both had.

Buttercup didn’t know how much time had passed before a low cough broke her concentrated view on the ocean in the distance.

Jake stood with a sleeping Abby in his arms, shadows of grief and longing painting his face. “Hey…”

All the words she wanted to say pressed against lips, but she was able to squeeze out a small, “Hey,” in reply without breaking down.

“She…she’s all ready,” Jake murmured, his falling to the infant in his arms.

“So is she,” Buttercup whispered. “All the milk I pumped is in the fridge, and…and her favourite blanket is in her crib. She…” Buttercup bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. She couldn’t cry in front of him. She wouldn’t let herself cry in front of him, not again. Not ever again.

“I know,” Jake saved her, nodding at the list pinned to the corkboard. “You wrote it all down for me.”

As though moving through quicksand, Buttercup stood and waded towards him. With practiced, ease they switched babies, Abby now content in her mother’s arms and Charlie in her father’s.

“Hey…maybe we could—”

Buttercup shook her head, her eyes trained on Charlie’s sleeping face. If she met those green eyes of his, she’d fall apart for sure.

“No…we can’t.”

Somehow, she knew Jake was nodding. “Right…we can’t.”

Buttercup’s lips trembled but she refused to break. “I guess we’ll be in touch about custody…”

Jake sighed. “Yeah. I’ll be in touch.”

“O-okay…goodbye, Jake.”

Heaviness hung over both of them, the weight of everything they were leaving unsaid sitting like a leaden cloud. “Goodbye, Buttercup.”

London, England, Now

When Charlie awoke the next morning, it was to a growing sense of relief mixed with absolute dread. Relief because she wasn’t holding onto this huge dark secret that had been taking up the majority of her brain power. Uncle Bob knew. He knew and he wasn’t upset. He loved her despite her not being Abby. He loved her despite not seeing her for almost 12 years. He held her and let her cry, then ate ice cream with her and talked about her life in Texas, all the questions she’d been wanting to ask pouring from her lips like some sort of waterfall. Bob knew her secret and still loved her. In fact, he’d known the whole time, but Mom didn’t know. And he wasn’t going to tell her.

That’s where the dread came in. Telling mom. She wasn’t worried that Mom wouldn’t love her once she found out that she wasn’t Charlie, but she was worried about her reaction. Would she cry? How would she react if her Mom started crying right in front of her? What if she was angry at them for doing something so reckless? Charlie didn’t know if she could handle her mom being angry with her. What if she blamed her father? Dad hadn’t known anything about this plan and, according to Abby at least, he was completely clueless about the switch, but if their divorce had been so bad that they had to put an ocean between them, who could say if Mom would get irrationally angry at Dad for letting this happen? Even though Charlie had mixed feelings about her dad and uncles lately, she wouldn’t be able to sit there and listen to her Dad be dragged through the dirt by her Mom. However, she had promised Bob that she would tell her, and she always kept her promises.

Charlie yawned and stretched and rolled out of bed, stopping to get dressed and grab her phone, where a notification from Abby was waiting.

A: Rooster knows.

Charlie’s heart stuttered in her chest.

C: WHAT? HOW?

A: Your stupid horse gave me away. You didn’t tell me she was so skittish.

Crap. She’d known she’d forgotten something, but there wasn’t exactly anything she could do about Lovebug being bonded to her and only her. Dad and Javy had a hard time getting close to her sometimes.

C: Crap. Sorry!

A: It’s okay. He said my lack of football knowledge and my vocabulary gave me away too. But he’s not going to tell Dad.

C: He’s not?

A: Yeah, he said it would be more fun for him to mess with Dad.

Charlie took a deep breath. At least there was that. Javy might have been willing to tell Dad because the two had been best friends since they were kids, so Rooster was the better person to find out anyway.

C: Okay…well, Bob found out too.

A: Oh no!

C: Turns out I’m not very convincing. He figured me out at the airport…in Buffalo.

A: What’s he going to do?

C: He said he wasn’t going to tell Mom…but that I have to.

A: Okay. When are you going to?

C: Today

A: So soon? What if she wants us to switch back?

Charlie frowned, a plan slowly taking form in her mind.

C: That wouldn’t be so bad. We could meet at a hotel in Texas and have them fall back in love with each other there?

A: And Savannah?

Charlie rolled her eyes.

C: I don’t know. But Dad can’t possibly be happy with her. Once he sees Mom again, the engagement will be off, and we’ll get to be a family again.

A: And if that doesn’t work?

C: We’ll figure it out. Together.

That’s what Uncle Bob had said. That they’d figure everything out together. Whether or not their parents fell back in love with each other, they wouldn’t be on their own to figure out a solution to their problems.

A: Okay. Tell me if Mum wants to talk to me?

C: I will…love you

A: Love you too

Charlie tucked her phone away and went downstairs, finding Bob drinking his coffee, dressed in an old Top Gun t-shirt and sweatpants, and Natasha, lounging on the couch, still in her pajamas.

“Good morning, everyone,” the slight British lilt that she had been practicing quavered as Bob met her eyes over the rim of his mug.

“Hey kid,” Nat greeted, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

Bob gently placed his mug down and came over to greet her with a hug. “Sleep well?” he whispered into her hair.

“Better. A lot better after talking to you,” she admitted, relaxing into the hug. “Are you not working today?”

He shook his head, straightening to his full height. “It’s my day off anyway, but I cancelled my plans. Figured you might want some emotional support, so I’ll be here if you need me.”

Charlie squeezed her arms around him, the same way she did with her dad or uncles whenever she was overwhelmed by the way they always had her back.

“Thanks, Uncle Bob,” she whispered, the lilted accent in her voice dropping away for a moment.

“What the hell are you two talking about?” Nat sat up and stared at them over the back of the couch.

Charlie’s eyes shot to Bob’s, but he nodded reassuringly. “Nat should probably know, right? And you can see it as a sort of…rehearsal for telling your mom.”

Gulping, Charlie nodded and turned, squaring her shoulders.

“You two are acting so weird. Is someone dying?” Nat placed her bowl down and stood, coming around to stand in front of her. “Abby, doll, you know you can tell me anything. What is with all the whispering?”

Charlie took a deep breath and looked into her aunt’s eyes, ignoring the clouding and the scar that had stolen her aunt’s career and part of her vision.

“…I’m not,” she replied in a shaky breath.

“You’re not what? Dying? That’s good to know, kid, but I kinda figured.”

“No…I’m not A-Abby,” Charlie swallowed hard.

Nat’s brows furrowed, the silvery scar jumping slightly. “Of course you are,” Nat shook her head. “You’re not making any sense. You’re Abby. You have to be Abby. If you’re not Abby, then you’re…”

Bob stepped closer and put his hand on Natasha’s shoulder.

“I’m what?” Charlie’s throat felt like it was closing up as Nat knelt down so they were eye to eye, her good eye furiously racing over her features as though trying to detect the truth.

“Charlie?” her aunt whispered, looking up to Bob for confirmation as Charlie nodded hesitantly. “Holy shit…Charlie?”

“Language, Nat,” Bob admonished with a chuckle as Charlie was swept off her feet into a bear hug that left her ribs aching and her heart singing.

“Oh, fuck off!” Nat placed Charlie on her feet and whirled around to meet her former partner. “You knew and you didn’t tell me? How long have you known? How long has he known?”

“I always knew,” Bob said with a shrug, retreating behind the kitchen counter as Nat advanced on him.

“Always…always knew? You mean you’ve known this entire freaking time? And you didn’t tell me? What the hell, Robert?”

Bob winced slightly. “I figured it wasn’t my secret to tell. And could you keep your voice down, please? My sister doesn’t know yet.”

“Your sist…Buttercup doesn’t know?” Nat gaped at them both. “Okay, we are sitting down right now, and you are telling me the whole story. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” uncle and niece sat on the couch, their proverbial tails tucked between their legs.

Nat sat in the armchair across from them and folded her arms. “Speak.”

“Before I do,” blurted Charlie. “Where’s mom?”

Nat rolled her eyes. “Apparently, she dreamt up a solution to her plot problem and just had to write it down while it was fresh. She’s been at it since 4 a.m., and I don’t see her coming down any time soon.”

“Okay…” Charlie took a deep breath and launched into the story: being sent to Penny’s camp, meeting Abby and immediately disliking her, the shoving match that led to them being sent to the brig, finding the photos from Las Vegas, Amelia telling them about their parents’ marriage, and, finally, their brilliant idea to switch places so they could meet their missing parent. “We plan on telling them the truth at the end of the week and refusing to switch back unless they meet in person.”

Nat studied her, brow furrowed and eyes never leaving her face. “What are you two hoping to achieve with this?”

Charlie bit her thumb nail and shrugged. “Best case scenario? They figure out a better custody arrangement so I’ll still get to see mom and Abby can still see dad. Dream scenario?” Charlie blushed. “Mom and dad fall back in love and we won’t need a custody arrangement at all.”

Natasha shook her head. “Sorry to burst your bubble, kid, but I don’t think that dream is gonna come true. Even getting a better custody arrangement would be really difficult. Sure, there’s no global pandemic to contend with now, but trying to line up visitation while your dad runs the risk of getting deployed would make it—”

“Dad’s not getting deployed anymore,” Charlie interrupted. “He—”

“Okay, so he got promoted enough so that he’s not going to be called away from home to deal with a crisis. And trust me, there’s always some crisis or another that’ll keep your dad away from San Diego.”

“We don’t live in San Diego, Auntie Nat.”

Nat stopped rambling and looked at her. “Okay then, where do you live?”

“On the ranch in Texas with Uncle Rooster and Uncle Javy.”

Bob leaned forward. “Javy and Rooster live with you too?”

“Yeah, they retired from the Navy the same day you did. How do you guys not know this? Didn’t you keep in touch with anyone from the Dagger Squad? Mickey or Reuben or Kally?” Charlie stared at them, aghast. She’d always assumed that the members of the Dagger Squad had kept in touch with each other, even if Uncle Bob and Natasha had become mom’s support system after the divorce, same as Javy and Rooster had become dad’s.

They both slowly shook their heads. “We, uh…we kind of lost contact with everyone after we left the Navy,” Bob replied. “It all happened so fast, Charlie. We were given the option of retiring or moving on to a different unit, and that was that.”

“But why? I thought you guys were a team? A family? That’s what Aunt Penny always says! How could you just lose touch with them?”

“Because it was too damn hard, that’s why,” Natasha bit out, an unreadable look in her eyes. “Because I didn’t want to hear about them flying missions and hitting me with the “Sorry, Phoenix, but it’s classified” line whenever I ask about their work, if I ever asked about their work. Because I didn’t want their damn pity. Because it was hard enough being a female pilot, but almost losing my eye and being grounded? That was damn near unbearable.”

Charlie shrank back in her seat and nodded. “Oh…sorry.”

Bob placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Charlie. It’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault, really. Sometimes it’s just easier to say goodbye and let everyone go their separate ways instead of trying to hang onto something that’s not there anymore. I tried to reach out to a few people on the team, including your dad, but they were either always deployed or their numbers weren’t reachable or their numbers had changed. That’s what happens sometimes, kiddo. That’s just life.”

Charlie bit her lip, the question she had been longing to ask pushing against her lips until she finally asked, “So…that’s what happened? It’s not that you didn’t want me? It’s that you couldn’t reach my dad?”

Bob wrapped an arm around her shoulders as Nat slid onto the couch cushion next to her, the two of them pulling her into a hug.

“Of course we wanted you, Charlie,” Nat whispered. “We missed you like crazy, kid.”

Bob pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Your mom wanted you too. And she’s going to be so happy when she finds out you’re here.”

Charlie pulled away and chanced a glance over the back of the couch towards the stairs. “I…I should go tell her.”

Bob nodded. “Yeah, kiddo. You should. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Charlie stood and Natasha jabbed an elbow into Bob’s gut. “You mean, we’ll be right here if you need us.”

Charlie grinned as Bob rubbed his stomach. “Thanks guys.”

She turned and faced the stairs, feeling like her stomach was somewhere near her feet. Then, she started to climb.

Charlie stood outside her mother’s bedroom, hand poised to knock, but her stomach was still living somewhere near her feet and her hand was shaking so badly that she was afraid that she would miss the door completely when she tried to knock.

Everything was happening so quickly. Just last month, she had been an only child on a ranch full of men. Now, she was a twin with three uncles and an aunt and, most importantly, two parents who loved and wanted her. Or so Bob and Natasha had said. She knew that they loved her, but the fear that her mother would end up rejecting her was so strong that it made her want to run out of the house and hide somewhere. But she couldn’t. She had promised Bob and Natasha and besides that, she didn’t want to live somewhere she wasn’t accepted for who she was. So, if mom rejected her, she would happily go back to Texas and live a happy ever after life with her family, who was clearly trying to protect her.

Nodding determinedly at the solution she had formulated in her head, she knocked quickly on the door and stuck her head in, spotting her mother folded into her writing chair.

“Hey babe,” Buttercup yawned, tilting her computer screen down. “Sorry I didn’t come down for breakfast. I thought I solved my issues; I had this whole dream about the solution. But the characters don’t want to listen to me. I swear, Abby, it makes me want to throw in the towel.”

Charlie fiddled with her fingers as she listened. The past few days, she had loved listening to her mother talk about her stories and how she teased out the plot points, but now she felt guilt and anxiety weigh on her heart. As much as she wanted to act tough, she desperately wanted her mother to love her for her, not because she thought she was Abby.

“Mom? Can we talk about something?”

In less than a second, she watched Buttercup go from author mode to mom mode. She stood, pulled her light cotton robe over her pajamas and stretched, putting a gentle hand between her shoulder blades and steering her towards the bed.

“Of course, Abby. Hop on up and we can talk about whatever you want.”

Buttercup propped herself up against the pillows and turned her body towards Charlie, who crawled into the left side of the bed and hugged a pillow to her chest.

“I…” To her horror, Charlie felt tears well up in her eyes. She slammed them shut before any could escape and felt her hands tremble.

The mattress shifted and warm arms encircled her before Buttercup spoke. “Abby, sweetheart, what’s wrong? You know you can tell me anything.”

“I…I don’t want you to get mad,” Charlie whimpered into her mother’s shoulder.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think it’s possible for me to get mad at you,” Buttercup hummed, pulling her close and rocking her gently side to side. “Remember when you accidentally kidnapped Mr. Tomkit’s cat? You were holding poor Shadow hostage in your closet and dressing him up for tea for three days before we found out. Did I get mad then?”

Charlie’s tears streamed down her face. “I…I don’t know,” she murmured truthfully. Abby had never shared that story with her.

“Of course I didn’t,” Buttercup replied in a soft voice. “You were only six. The point is, whatever happened, an accident or a mistake, we’ll figure it out like we always do, yeah? It’s you and me, sweetheart. It always has been, and we’ve managed well so far, haven’t we?”

“B-but what if this time makes you not love me anymore?” The question leapt forth before she could stop it, the question she had been both dying to ask and too afraid of hearing the answer.

Buttercup’s hands found Charlie’s shoulders and eased her away just enough to look in her eyes. “Abigail Juliet Floyd, nothing could ever make me not love you anymore. Nothing in this whole universe. You hear me?”

“But I’m not Abby! I’m Charlie!” she sobbed, her hands raising to cover her face. “Abby and I met at camp, and she really wanted to meet dad and I really wanted to meet you, so we swapped places!” To Charlie, it was as though everything had been frozen in time. She couldn’t hear the birds chirping outside her mother’s window or Auntie Nat’s trashy tv shows playing on the tv downstairs. Nothing moved and nothing sounded in the longest minute of Charlotte Delta Seresin’s life.

And then, those warm arms wrapped around her tightly and held her close. “My baby…my sweet Charlotte…”

Charlie flung her arms around her mother and buried her head in her neck, breathing in the hibiscus and jasmine perfume and feeling the soft silk of her mother’s pajamas under her cheek. “You’re not m-mad?” Charlie whispered.

She fought her hands not to cling to her mother as she pulled away, just far enough to look at her. “How could I be mad?” Charlie’s heart clenched at the sight of the pearly tears clinging to her mother’s cheeks. “It’s really you, Charlie?”

Charlie nodded meekly, tucking her feet up underneath her. “Abby taught me everything about her life while we were at camp. She wanted to meet dad so badly, and I always dreamed of meeting you. I was so scared to tell you because I was afraid you left me because you didn’t want me…”

Buttercup’s gentle fingers traced over her daughter’s features, sadness filling her eyes. “I’ve loved you and wanted you since before you were even born, Charlie,” she whispered. “I…I’m so sorry we failed you, love. It’s no excuse, but this was never supposed to be permanent. We just let time get away from us, I suppose. But please…you need to know that I missed you every single day, sweetpea. I love you so much.”

Charlie let herself relax into Buttercup’s arms, her tears slowing and her breathing steadying. “I love you too, mom.”

A few hours later, the three Floyds and their honorary fourth member sat clustered around Buttercup’s computer, a Zoom call open in front of them as they waited for the call to be answered.

“I still can’t believe you knew before I did. A mother is supposed to know her own children,” Buttercup worried her lower lip as she stared at Bob, on the other side of Charlie.

“In Charlie’s defence, she really pulled the act together once she got to the house,” Bob replied. “And in your defence, you do know your children. It might have just been too difficult for you to even try to rationalize that the girl in front of you might not be Abby.” Bob shot Buttercup a meaningful look as the dark screen in front of them suddenly filled with colour.

“Uncle Roo, you need to back up,” they heard Abby gripe. “They can only see your shirt right now.”

Rooster backed up and sat in a chair behind a desk, Abby perched next to him.

“Hey, old man,” Natasha teased.

Bradley huffed slightly, a light smile dancing across his face. “Hey yourself, Phoenix. Hey Buttercup.”

Buttercup’s face filled with fondness. “Hey Bradley, how are you?”

He shrugged as the pixels danced across the screen. “Can’t complain. How’s my girl? Ow! Sorry, Jesus. I mean, how’s my other girl?” he shot a glare at Abby, who grinned back at him.

“Hey Uncle Roo,” Charlie beamed at him through the camera. “Hey Abby!”

“Hey Charlie, hey Auntie Nat! Hey Uncle Bob, Charlie told me you figured it out right away!”

Bob nodded once and pushed his glasses up. “You’re one of a kind, Abby. No emulating it.”

“Damn, you figured it out right away?” Rooster whistled through his teeth. “It took me a couple of days to figure it out. You two never thought to teach your girl about American football? Javy thought she got a brain transplant at camp.”

Buttercup and Bob chuckled but Natasha remained suspiciously silent as Charlie filled them in on how life was in England and Abby filled them in on all the Texas goings on.

“…and dad’s engaged to this dreadful woman who wants to go wedding venue shopping on Saturday!” Abby groaned.

“Abby,” Buttercup admonished. “You just met this woman. Give her time to adjust. I’m sure it was quiet something when your father told her that his daughters had switched places.”

“Oh, well, actually…” Abby started.

“Yeah, she didn’t take it that great, Buttercup,” Bradley cut in, giving Abby a little nudge with his elbow. “Remember, kid?”

“Oh…uh…yeah. She didn’t take it that well at all.”

Charlie would blame the emotional day for the fact that her mother didn’t pick up on the strange behaviour behind the screen at all.

“So, give her some time, and she’ll…she’ll come around,” Buttercup gulped slightly and reached for her bottle of water.

“Yeah, I’m sure she will,” Rooster rolled his eyes. “Why don’t y’all come to Texas for the weekend? We’re stayin’ at some fancy hotel in Austin for the weekend while Savannah looks around at different venues. She wanted to make it a weekend getaway. But you guys should come so you and Hangman can figure out an arrangement that keeps these two from pulling a Trading Places again.”

Buttercup was chewing on her bottom lip again. “I…I don’t know. It’s supposed to be a wedding related trip. I wouldn’t feel comfortable crashing it.”

“You wouldn’t be crashing it,” Rooster replied. “Jake invited you. He wants to figure out a solution too, before the wedding.”

Buttercup sighed heavily, the breath tinged with sadness. “Yeah…yeah, that makes sense. Bob, can you—”

“I’ll clear my schedule so I can go with you, and I’ll book our flights there,” Bob replied, his phone already in his hand.

Buttercup smiled gratefully. “Natasha—”

“I’ll keep in contact with the old man and make sure we book the right hotel,” Natasha replied, fixing Rooster with a glare that would have paralyzed him if they were in the same time zone.

Buttercup sighed resignedly. “Okay, then. I guess we’ll all see you on Saturday.”

“See you then, Buttercup,” Rooster winked.

“Bye mum! I love you!”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Rooster whipped around as a voice rang out behind them. “Mum? Buttercup? Dude, what the hell is—”

“Gotta go, mum! Bye!” Abby shouted as she slammed the laptop screen down, cutting off the call.

“Well, that wasn’t ominous at all,” Natasha muttered.

Buttercup’s worried face reflected back at her on the darkened screen. “Oh god…what have I gotten myself into?”

Rooster glared at Javy. “Nice going, dipshit.”

“What? Me? Who the hell were you talking to on that call, man? Because I only know one Buttercup and—”

“And what, Uncle Javy?” Abby blinked up at him innocently. “Who is Buttercup?”

Javy gaped at her. “She…uh…she’s, um…”

Rooster rolled his eyes. “Cut the guy some slack, would ya, Abby?”

Abby’s grin widened as Javy’s mouth dropped even further. “Nah…man, there ain’t no way…”

“You didn’t think it was suspicious that Penny wouldn’t quit pesterin’ us both until we got Hangman to agree to send Charlie to camp on that specific day? You don’t think it’s weird that Lovebug treats her like she’s a stranger? You never noticed that your favourite assistant coach knows jack all about football now?”

Javy crouched down in front of her. “You’re not Charlie, are you?” Abby shook her head and Javy’s eyes welled with tears. “C-can I hug you, darlin’?” Abby nodded with a smile, and she was suddenly scooped up into a massive hug. “Oh my god, man…this is unbelievable!”

“What’s unbelievable?”

The three turned to see Jake standing behind them in the doorway of the office, his arms folded across his chest.

“Hey, man,” Rooster greeted. “What’s up?”

“Was just coming to try to find my daughter.”

Abby gulped. She hadn’t really spoken to her father since her blow up at the news of his engagement. The news still weighed heavily on her, but Rooster’s plan would work, she just knew it. Plus, she would get to see her mum soon, and that always made her feel better.

“H-hey, dad.”

Jake’s face softened. “Hey Charlie, I was hoping we could have a chat before dinner. Just you and me.”

Javy opened his mouth and Abby pinched him hard on the shoulder blade, out of view of her father.

“Sure, dad. I think that’s a good idea. Can you put me down, Uncle Javy?” Javy hesitated but Abby begged him with her eyes not to blow this for them, and he conceded.

“Sure…Charlie.”

Abby smiled at him as she went to her father’s side.

“We’ll see y’all at dinner, alright?” Jake nodded at them as he let the office door close behind him.

“Alright, dude, you’re gonna tell me what’s goin’ on right now, or I swear to god, I’m telling Jake why that pair of men’s boxer shorts were hanging outside his window.”

“Relax, Coyote,” Rooster sat back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the desk. “You and me are gonna have a lot of fun with Hangman this weekend.”

Tags List: @mamachasesmayhem @mamamaystbr @jessicab1991 @waltermis @buckysteveloki-me @allepaula @yuckosworld @bradshawssugarbaby @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @kim-stark @cierra715 @high-speed-r @helpmepleasethanks @starsrfun @tomanyfandomstrash @averyhotchner @the-blueatlas @princessliz86 @dashes-dizzydisaster @a-girl-who-loves-disney @boiolay @djs8891 @torimcc @tgmreader @kmc1989 @landpiranha-blog @sydthekid1518 @lynnevanss @hello7442 @mackenzieblair @minejungwoo @starset21 @ssa-sadboi @tgmavericklover @dempy @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @lovemarvelousfics @starkleila @magical-spit @whatislovevavy @simplyreading96 @vivalas-vega @itsdesiree86 @inky-sun @books-are-escapes @abaker74 @devil-angel-winchester @mrs-perfectly-fine @inthestars-underthesun

#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman fic #jake seresin #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #parent trap au #as you wish fic #glen powell #tgm fanfiction #tgm fic #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you

134 notes · View notes

certifiedcodbabygirl · 11 days

Text

To Whisper Your Name pt.1

Konig x Reader Roman Goddess AU

Warnings: Violence ( minor character deaths), Roman deity inaccuracies, history inaccuracies, talks of SA

Reader is loosely based on the Roman Goddess Felicitas (Goddess of good fortune and luck)

It is not rare for minor gods/ goddesses to go unthought of. Some rise to fame as others are forgotten. Not many remember the deities of flowers, trees, or other smaller things. They remember Jupiter, Neptune, Venus. The greats, the Gods. Smaller gods go about their lives enjoying the few who do remember them. The small alters the mortals create for them, adorned with what is associated with said deity. They get offerings, praise, songs sung in their name.

Others are forgotten. Some deities share common rulings and the more famous deity gets the praise. They get the offerings, the songs, the alters. They get the memories. The smaller deity is left to watch humanity progress, knowing they are nothing to them but a passing face. Some grow depressed, heartbroken to be forgotten. Some grow mad, killing those who pray to the more famous deity. Most are unhappy or indifferent. They are too out of touch with humanity, differences between God and mortals being too many to connect with one another.

Despite all, you connect. The goddess of good fortune and luck, or as I should say, the small goddess of good fortune and luck. Throughout time, as you were forgotten and Fortuna rose to fame, you assimilated with the mortals. The fascination overtaking the grief pushed you to live among them. You aren’t well known among your village, just a simple face that passes by occasionally. Your home resides along the lake, a small and hidden house, property of an old man you met years before. You became like family to him, knowing who you are, he did his research. He offered you home, community, he offered you the human experience.

It was a quiet life, predictable, quaint. You go to the fishing grounds, bless the unsuspecting fishermen. You do the same to the cloth weavers, the doctors, the children playing. None may know, but fortune is on their side. It was a simple existence, a comfortable one.

A change happened at nightfall. Taking a late night walk was common, having no need for sleep. You’d walk a few miles, stay in a tree, maybe take a swim, then head back to your home. Tonight was no different. You opted to stay in a tree in a nearby forest, taking in the night sky, constellations seeming to taunt you with an unknown reason. Memories of when you were among the other deities fill your mind, a bittersweet taste left in your mind. Shouting and the crunching of twigs below rip you from your thoughts, whimpers from women below causing the hair on your arms to stand up.

Below, you see a small group of women with their arms shackled to a long chain. There are 2 men, daggers glinting in the moonlight. There’s no torch, no lantern, to light their way. It’s clear they are trying to be unseen, to steal these women. They adorn Roman clothing, as do the women, and seem to be heading away from the village.

“Please I’m begging you, I have children! They have no father and no one to look for them” A woman begs shakily.

“Then we will be back for them. I know someone who would pay bronze for youth like them” A man cackles and shoves the woman for her noise.

“Oh Gods, Please save us, if you can hear me” A woman whispers, kissing her hands and raising them to the sky.

Her voice is so broken, as if she's unable to conjure hope. Heart aching for these women but unable to physically intervene, you bless them.

“Luck be upon you” Falls from your lips in the form of a whisper.

As they are almost gone, a branch snapping catches the men's attention. Heads whipping in the direction of the noise was their first mistake. A soldier in Roman attire sneaks behind the leading man, dagger cutting through his throat as if it were simply fat.

The other three men turn and draw their weapons, preparing for attack. Their stance resembles that of a cornered, angry cat. One other soldier emerges from the dark. His towering frame, only being able to be described as a giant, unsheathed his sword from his holster. The glare from the moonlight shining off his sword gives an eerie and unsettling feeling in an already disturbing situation.

“Give in and come willingly, or face the same fate as your foolish leader” His voice is higher pitched than expected, yet still effectively intimidating. His accent is foreign, sounding from the north.

Ignorance clearly being their strong suit, the smugglers charge at the giant, only to be met immediately with a blade. The first one falls and seconds later, the other one is ripped through, practically in half, blood spilling like a never ending prayer. The men are ripped through like a tarp, eyes widening and dulling over.

The last man remaining drops his weapon, falling to his knees like a worshiper to their God. The giant stalks towards him, gripping his hair and tilting him back. You can feel the fear radiating off of the smaller man's body, most likely praying to the gods as the women they stole did.

“Your incompetence fails you. What were you planning for them?” He demands, gesturing to the women. They cower under the man's gaze.

The man remains silent, his mouth gaping like a fish, in search of words.

“Have mercy, please!” He begs, tears seeming to form.

The giant chuckles in an unamused manner, “Were you to have mercy on them? The gods have turned their backs on you. Now I will ask you again” He grips tighter, voice low and in a low growl, “What. Were. You. Planning? Who is your superior?”

The man refuses to answer and is swiftly met with a blade, as he serves no purpose. The giant and his partner turn their attention to the women, moving to remove their shackles. The women seem more frightened of them than they did the men that stole them. Perhaps it's because these men are soldiers, making it easy for them to be overpowered.

“Where are you from?” The giant asks a woman as he removes the shackles. The woman says she was visiting her family in a nearby village when the men came. The other women say something similar.

“It seems they had a type. Easily able to make them disappear if they only have a couple connections in a different village.” The other man states, the giant nodding.

They move the women to the same town you live in, keeping them in a new location until they find the leader of whatever ring they were getting sold into. You climb down the tree and quietly follow behind. The women are escorted to a separate cluster home and the men head to what seems to be a military station building.

Before the giant walks into the building, he looks behind him out of habit and spots you already looking at him. You quickly turn and walk away, not trying to attract unwanted attention. You make it to the lake before you hear a twig snap, someone being with you. Knowing who it is, you don't even bother to turn around, staying still.

“Why did you run?” He asked in an accusatory tone, walking up to you. His frame towers over you, his shadow overtaking yours. You turn towards him, finally meeting his eyes. His face is covered in a cloth, his eyes being the only exposed area. His gaze is stern, like that of a king.

“I've never seen a soldier like you before” you lie seamlessly, appearing innocent, “When you saw me, I worried I would possibly provoke you. Some soldiers around here hate when we stare”

He looks down at you, head slightly tilting. In mock or curiosity, you can't tell. There’s a long pause of silence, neither of you moving.

“Sir?” You ask quietly, “May I go back home now? I fear it will worry my family if I am out too late”

“You will meet me in the town square tomorrow at dusk,” He states, turning to walk away, “I will find you if you fail to come. Do not make that mistake, flos”

#call of duty modern warfare #cod x reader #konig #konig cod #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #cod konig #konig modern warfare #konig x reader goddess au #konig x reader history au #konig x reader roman au #konig x reader worship #konig x female reader #konig x fem reader #konig mwii #konig fluff

70 notes · View notes

yourfavouriterival · 6 months

Text

the slow descent from reality (and how to find your way back)

shoko x platonic!fem!reader, gojo x platonic!fem!reader, geto x platonic!fem!reader

warnings: slightly au (not concrete on whether it is canon-compliant), puking, crying, mentions of wounds, mentions of death, hurt/comfort

note: idk if this is good :( but it came out and this is the first thing i've written in months so do give me criticism

There must be something in the air. That must be it, because she must’ve been imagining things. Surely, the two loves of her life were still very much the loves of her life. Surely, her closest and longest friend was still her closest and longest friend. Surely, their choice of school and choice of career hadn’t changed their souls so much that she flinched away from their touch. Surely, she could still stand her three best friends' gaze on her and not need to shrink from them.

And yet.

Her best friends—her three only ones—that she couldn’t bear to be away from had suddenly become the only ones she couldn’t bear to be close to.

It’d all started in the beginning of the colder months. She’d yanked her coat over her thin hoodie and held the sleeves to stop them from rolling up her arm. She’d pulled a hat onto her head, avoiding the mirror to be able to ignore how egg shaped she must’ve looked. She’d double-tied her shoes to keep the cold out.

She’d even grabbed an extra knife to stuff in her boot.

And still her hands shook and her heart blistered from the cold.

How long had she grasped onto this feeling within, trying to breathe it into existence only for it to not matter in the slightest? Years, at this point. How long had she wanted to fight stronger curses, to show how strong she truly was? How long had she longed for the chance to prove herself, to finally protect something that mattered?

Yet this past mission. She might've very well signed her resignation papers on the train ride home.

Her train compartment had been isolated, just her and the sound of metal on metal as she turned her head away from the windows. Her phone lay silent in her pocket, the headphones she usually wore haphazardly thrown into her shoulder bag alongside the knife she’d stuffed in her boot.

She’d come home, though. As she walked the steps leading to her dorm room, she thought she might just pass out, not from exhaustion. Every step hurt her lungs, and she felt the world was spinning before her eyes, and she couldn’t seem to stand on her own two feet, having to support herself on the wall next to the door.

She’d never felt so weak.

Her phone buzzed.

She opened it.

suggy: me n dumbass r watching lotr. come over

suggy: realising that sounds like a fuck boy dont come over

suggy: i give up. bye.

suggy: shoko wants u here. i will not fuck u.

sat on as a child: sugu soooo wants to hit

sat on as a child: ok sorry hope ur mission went well :3

cigarette girl: hello can u bring me a pack i think i left it in ur room

cigarette girl: omg wait how did the mission go!!! ur so professional now

And for some reason, she closed the door and slid down, numb to the feeling of the wood door digging into her back and somehow unable to close her eyes. The room was dark, the candle she had in the corner cold and dry, the light switch on the wall above her seeming to move further and further away from her hand that felt like forty pounds resting on her leg.

She felt sick.

For two days she couldn’t eat. She avoided Suguru and Satoru’s invitations by saying she had a stomach ache and she avoided Shoko by saying she had plans with the boys. For four days she couldn’t sleep.

Nausea wracked her body with each breath and her head was spinning even though she hadn’t moved from her pillow for days. Her body felt oily, the idea of taking a shower too hard.

I failed. I quit. That’s all she wanted to say. She just wanted to close her eyes for a moment and not see what haunted her mind.

But if she really quit, what else would she do? Maybe she’d become a doctor, and try to save some lives for once. But why should she try to save people who rarely wish to be saved? Similarly, why was it in her DNA to see curses? Was it not non-sorcerers who should pay the price for their own doings? Should she need to watch yet another child die—

“Oi! Let us in, we’ve got take-out!”

Satoru was the voice, and two smacks were heard, so that meant Shoko and Suguru were with him.

But she couldn’t move a muscle. The blankets seemed to consume her, and she might’ve fought against it if she had any energy left to give. But her legs were made of cement and her stomach was filled with glue, sticking her insides together, and hindering her ability to feel her own legs.

She didn’t want them to come in. She didn’t want them to see her like this. What would they think of her now? Her room was a mess, reflecting a fraction of what her mind was, and her bed looked like someone had fought a war in it.

“We’re waiting! Hello,” Gojo drawled, voice almost like a melody through the door.

She kept staring at the wall, curled into herself and breathing much too shallowly.

“Suguru, you literally have a key. Use it.”

“For emergencies.”

“This is an emergency. I need to sit. My legs are numb,” he whined. Their voices were all muffled and she couldn’t really figure out if it was due to the door between them or how her ears were ringing.

“Fine,” Suguru groaned, and she heard the sound of the key scraping against the keyhole before the door opened.

“Your favourite people are here!” yelled Gojo.

But it was so quiet.

Her name was called out, or she thinks she heard it. But she didn’t move, only her back facing them. For a moment, she worried about the fresh scars on her back that couldn’t be healed fast enough, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

The bed dipped by her legs, and then a hand was placed on her knee over the blanket. The hand was warm, like a furnace under someone's skin, so it had to be Suguru.

Her name was said again, and the bed dipped twice more—once by her head and lastly by her back.

“What’s happened?”

She didn’t speak, but she did start coughing. And then she spoke the first thing she’d spoken in days. “I—I’m gonna throw up,” she warned frantically, and within a second there was a metal bucket by her head where she’d shot up to sit.

“Go away,” she cried between gags, but all that happened was Shoke pressing a wet towel to her neck and someone rubbing her back. “Please, j—just go away,” she cried, tears springing to her eyes when the gags turned to dry heaving.

“Not right now,” Satoru said, unusually soft when he took the wet towel from Shoko to wipe around her mouth as she sat up.

Without a word, Suguru took the bucket and disposed of it and it’s contents in the bathroom attached to her room, and then returned to kneel on the floor beside the bed. “We heard what happened.”

It just made her cry harder, body so weak that she had to lean against Shoko behind her. “Then you should leave.”

“Never,” Shoko finally said, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her head.

The tears that fell from her eyes dripped onto her shirt, but she couldn’t seem to close her eyes from the onslaught. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Suguru promised. “Do they hurt?” She didn’t know what he meant, so she shook her head regardless. “Your back.”

Oh. Right. The two slashes running across her lower back throbbed at the reminder of their existence.

“A bit,” she said finally. “I feel… gross.”

“Then do you want to shower?”

“Y—yeah,” she said, but when she stood (disregarding that she was only clad in underwear and a t-shirt) her legs buckled beneath her, and she would have crashed to the floor had her three best friends not caught her.

“Okay, I’m carrying you,” Satoru said, and no sooner than the words left his mouth was she in the air, not without yelling a bit.

As they entered the bathroom, she realised what a conundrum she was in. Was she to strip naked? Or should she somehow hold herself up—

“Stop thinking so much,” Satoru chastised, and set her down on the closed toilet seat as Suguru and Shoko joined them. “Which one of you wants to? I would but—”

“Yeah, yeah, your six eyes and whatever,” Shoko grumbled, but it was Suguru who took whatever Satoru was holding.

“A blindfold?” she laughed suddenly, even though it tore up her throat to do so, and she lost her breath when Suguru tied it around his head and stood in the shower, arms open.

“Won’t look. Just here to help,” he said. And then Satoru was guiding her into the shower, and taking Shoko out and closing the door, and then it was just her and Suguru.

“Sugu,” she said softly. And then she was leaning forward, resting her head on his collarbone and just breathing him in as she reached behind him and turned the water on. She flinched at the coldness first, but leaned back anyway to take off her shirt. “Can’t get my underwear off,” she mumbled, and even with his gentleness of finding her hips and pulling them down, she couldn’t help but feel her face and neck warm.

“We’ll take care of you.”

When Suguru clambered out of the bathroom with his soaking wet clothes to change, he also threw in an oversized shirt and underwear and pants, but as she yanked them on she noticed the smell—Gojo Satoru.

She remembered, suddenly, buying them. They’d gone to a second-hand store, and Satoru had taken the biggest shirt he could find “just for funsies” and the softest pants, and then proceeded to never wear them. Shoko had complained and offered to take them, but Satoru refused, saying that someday he would want to wear them.

And now she was wearing them and tentatively stepping out of her bathroom to a very clean room.

“Um—”

“I cleaned!” Satoru yelled. Shoko hit him in the shoulder, and walked towards her to guide both of them into her newly made bed.

“I cleaned,” Shoko whispered, curling her body around her best friend’s. Then Satoru joined, flopping down next to Shoko whilst Suguru pressed his chest to her back.

“I know.”

#jjk angst #jjk x reader #jjk x fem!reader #gojo angst #gojo satoru angst #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #geto x reader #geto angst #geto suguru #shoko ieiri #shoko x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst #they make me so sad

150 notes · View notes

deputyrook · 7 months

Text

Impressions- 3/? Mark Hoffman x Psychic!Reader

PART 1. PART 2.

You're a reluctant psychic. He's a detective. And a serial killer.

(Weren't you supposed to be afraid?)

Word count: 4581

WARNINGS: Child abuse, attempted infanticide, corruption, stockholm syndrome, drug use (painkillers), blackmail, power imbalance, abusive dynamics, overt threatening, general Saw-levels of horror & violence.

You dream about the bathroom again.

Your mother is there, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her hair tied back. It's your childhood home, the bathroom on the second floor just beyond the top of the stairway, painted a garish teal that was popular in the late 70s.

You think you are four years old. Your mother is chattering to you as she fills the tub. She's telling you that she's sorry, but it has to be done- that you're sensitive just like her, she can tell, and that this life will ruin you.

She has to save you from it. You deserve better than this, she says to you, smoothing down your hair with wet hands. Life is too bad, too hard. Too filled with pain and bad people. You're not like them.

The water is cold, and dark. The bathtub seems to expand as you're held underwater- you open your eyes, and they burn. Blurry shapes pass across your vision. The darkness seems to go on forever.

(You were dead for three minutes, the doctors said, before they were able to resuscitate you.)

Somewhere in the haze of the dream, you zoom out to a bird's eye view, and the bathroom starts to decay. You see the top of the toilet crack, the mirror shatter and fall. A chain is attached to the radiator, snaking around your ankle. The light flickers. There is a puddle of blood in the centre of the room.

When you wake up, you are drenched in sweat.

You don't text Mark Hoffman about that dream, instead groggily taking a handful of painkillers to ensure a dreamless sleep for the rest of the night.

It had only been after your near death experience that you'd started getting flashes, the images and emotions that your childhood friends didn't. At the time, the doctors chalked up to trauma. Later, you learned to keep it quiet.

Maybe, somewhere in the world- wherever she was now- your mother had woken up after the same dream. You are just about the same age now as she was then, and when you look in the mirror, you see the same tired eyes.

She was right about one thing, you think, your recent visions coming back to you. Life is full of pain.

As you lay back down, your cat Prawn crawls up beside you and starts purring relentlessly. He shoves his face against yours, like he can tell you're feeling down. He smooshes against you, and despite yourself you chuckle, petting him softly.

The last thing you wonder before you fall asleep is what your mother would think of what you're doing now. She may have been right about life, but she was wrong about you.

You are like them. Maybe worse.

---

"What do you mean, you haven't had any visions since yesterday morning?" Mark asks as he drives, gloved hands gripping the wheel so tightly that you're surprised he doesn't leave a permanent indent on it.

"I took some painkillers yesterday. They block out the noise, at least for a bit," you answer, sparing a look over at him, "I wanted to be a normal human being for a while."

He shakes his head in what appears to be annoyance, distaste or disappointment- you can't tell which.

"Quit complaining," He says, without even a hint of sympathy. You wonder if sympathy is an emotion he knows how to feel, "Pills aren't going to make you feel normal."

With your senses dulled, you feel cut-off from the world around you, and by extension, Mark Hoffman. Without the bleed of other people's emotions, thoughts, and memories into your mind, you feel more independent, more a person. It comes at the cost of your intuition, but at least you can tell a bit more clearly where Jigsaw ends and you begin.

Still, somewhere along the way, you stopped flinching every time Mark Hoffman looked at you. It's incredible, what the human mind can normalize. How it can change fear to thrill to anticipation.

"It'll come back, it always does. Pretty soon, if my timing is right," You shoot Mark a look, "Wouldn't want to be useless to you."

He sneaks a glance back at you. "I'm sure I could find a use for you."

For a second, it feels like the energy in the car changes. With that insinuation, there's a tension between you that becomes obvious. The air in the car feels tight.

It feels dangerous. Your cheeks flush, and you don't exactly know how to respond to that, so you drum your fingers on your thigh and look out the window.

"It's been affecting me," you admit, finally, changing the subject. "I've been connected to this web of the worst of humanity. I needed a break."

Mark scoffs. "You're telling me that shutting your eyes and pretending it's not happening is going to make you feel better?"

"A little," you lie, before you sigh and stretch. "Maybe when my intuition comes back, I should just go to a dog park, close my eyes, and pet all the dogs."

"You get any hits on the dogs being mistreated, you can send the owners my way," Mark replies, deadpan.

You actually laugh out loud at that, mostly out of surprise. Mark still looks serious- he really doesn't smile all that often. Was that a joke? Probably not entirely, but either way, you can't help but smile as you shake your head at his audacity.

Your suspicion that Mark is at least somewhat serious is confirmed when he continues.

"We could do a lot of good work like that," Mark adds quietly after a moment, "You pick them. I test them. You sense the threats, I deal with them from the inside. A pretty fucking effective team, if you ask me."

"Is that what you want? Us to murder people together?" You ask, voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Yeah," Mark replies simply, seriously. A shiver runs across your skin, and at that single word, your stomach drops. It seems too real a possibility, suddenly. That you could actually do it. That you would actually do it. That you could do it, together, and not get caught.

"Did you forget that I'm here under duress?" You reply uncomfortably. The words sound like a lie even to you as they leave your mouth.

"Really? I don't see a gun to your head." He points out. You shuffle in your seat, and pick at a seam on your jeans. He's right, and the guilt of it hits you square in the chest.

What are you doing here, if it's not because you've been forced to be? The answer just makes you feel more guilty, rising like bile in your throat.

You've enjoyed being needed. He's dangerous, and he's taking you seriously, bringing you along. He needs you, he wants you here.

You've been having fun.

He'd kill you in a second if you threatened him, without an ounce of regret. You still like him. Are you insane? Suicidal?

Fuck. It hurts your head. It takes every image you've ever had of yourself and crumples it into a little paper ball. And sets it on fire. You don't even know who you are anymore.

"How would Jigsaw number one feel about that?" You ask instead, trying to hide the sudden waves of turmoil that crash through you, making you feel sea-sick and confused.

"Pretty soon, it won't matter," Mark's voice is dark, and he looks straight ahead at the road as he drives. Once again, you have no idea where he's taking you, but you've been driven well outside of the city centre. The area is dilapidated, and you pass lawn after lawn filled with detritus and garbage.

It didn't even occur to you to try to remember the route to get here.

"I wasn't sure about it at first either," Mark murmurs after a while, with a cruel twist of the corner of his mouth, "Then I realized. They have a real chance to get out alive. Maybe they learn their lesson. Maybe they don't. Well, then, we can just put them back into the games until they figure it out, or they die. It's housekeeping."

"That's fucked up. These are people you're talking about. With their own lives and hopes and dreams," Is it him you're trying to convince, or yourself? Maybe you're pushing your luck, arguing with him as much as you are. It's weightless, regardless. Here you are, tagging along, no gun in sight.

"Nah. You said it yourself- the worst of humanity. Fuck 'em." Mark pulls into a long driveway of an old abandoned school building, driving his car around the back and parking in the grass, out of sight from the road. You can see broken windows, glass scattered around the entrances, and brick walls splashed with colourful graffiti.

He turns off the engine of his car, and then turns fully to you.

"Come on. You wanna find out what you really think?"

Mark has a key to the back door, and the rusted lock opens with an imposing click. Even with the key, it feels like you shouldn't be here. A sense of foreboding edges your awareness, and you can tell the medication is starting to wear off by how deeply you're unsettled in this atmosphere. You seem to be entering through an administration sector of small back offices.

The building smells of mildew and grease, of rust and water damage. As he enters the hallway, Hoffman flips a series of switches just to the left of the entry, which light the narrow back hallways in an uncanny florescence. If not for the light, you would have thought this place was abandoned.

Something bad has happened here, or is happening here.

"Follow me," he murmurs, and with confident strides, he leads you through the administration section and out into the main hallway of the school. You trail behind him quietly, wondering if you would be able to navigate your way out of this building again if you were left here.

He takes you up an old metal stairway, and then into a large room which you can tell used to be a library. Compared to the other parts of the building you've seen, this room is much better kept, clear of rubble and debris. Someone's taken the time to clear it out, at least mostly. Old bookshelves stand empty, and a series of round tables in the room now hold various pieces of equipment.

It's been turned into a workshop, you realize.

Blueprints are spread across the tables, along with a number of cassette tapes and what appears to be recording equipment. A large black television is set up on a TV cart near the front of the room, with wires connecting to a receiver of some kind.

Resting on one of the tables, contrasting so severely with the rest of the equipment on it, there's an old, faded teddy bear.

"See that?" Mark says, pointing to the toy. "I wanna know what kind of a read you get on it."

"Why do I feel like this isn't going to be fun?" You murmur anxiously, but you do as he instructs, approaching the table and picking up the bear. Turning it over in your hands, you close your eyes, and allow the feelings to creep up onto you.

You were right. Something bad happened here.

There was a little boy, no older than six, you think, who had held onto the bear so tightly. You feel his confusion, more than anything else at first. What had he done wrong? Why was his teacher so angry?

Why did it hurt so much?

Pain flashes through you, bright and sharp, from your elbow to your shoulder. You cringe, still holding the bear, trying to piece together what had happened to the boy. You can feel his fear, pure and unrestrained, making you shake.

"Got it?" Mark asks, and you realize he's come up to stand right behind you. He leans over you, his chest nearly touching your back, and speaks low, directly into your ear. It makes you shiver for a different reason. "Now, open your eyes. Watch."

Holding up a remote beside you, you open your eyes to watch as he clicks on the television with it. It crackles to life, and it takes you a second before you register what you're looking at, through the static of what appears to be a live feed.

A man that you would guess is in his mid-60's is restrained to a chair in an abandoned classroom, each of his arms fastened into metal contraptions. Something large is attached to the back of the chair, almost looking like an industrial turtle shell.

"Holy shit," you breathe, your eyes going wide. You drop the teddy bear in shock at what you're seeing, as the man begins to yell for help and writhe in the chair, trying to free his arms

"No, hold onto it," Mark says into your ear, reaching around you. Placing his hands on top of yours, he guides your touch back to the bear, his chest now fully flush against your back.

As you touch the toy again, the impressions come back, stronger this time. Not just the boy, but others as well. Left alone, trapped somewhere, difficult to breathe- suffocating in darkness. Where is my mom, I want my mom-

Anger begins to churn inside of you, so thick and strong it sickens you. You grit your teeth as you stare at the screen.

"Hello, Martin," A distorted voice says. Jigsaw. You can't see the TV from the camera's vantage point, but you can see the person in the chair whip his head toward the sound. "I want to play a game."

The man on the screen whimpers. "No, no, no," he moans.

"You worked at this school for almost three decades before they finally fired you. There were never any charges laid. But there were rumours for years about how you took out your rage on those who couldn't fight back."

You can feel the tears starting to well in your eyes as you stare up at the screen, transfixed in horror. The kids weep and scream in your mind like ghosts, begging to tell you how they suffered.

"You called it your isolation room. A closet hideaway, barely larger than a cardboard box. How many children did you force to stay there, curled up and injured for hours, for the sake of discipline?"

"It was a mistake!" The man yells out, voice breaking, "Please, I'm sorry, I was doing my best-"

"You have two minutes to press down on the peddles under your feet. Doing so will tear away the top layer of skin from your hands, degloving them. Keep your feet pressed down until the process is finished. Once your hands have been degloved, you will be able to pull them from the machine and press the buttons releasing you from the chair."

The man wails in misery. Mark Hoffman rests his chin on your shoulder, and you can feel his eyes watching the footage with you, so intently. The heat of his body pressed against yours, his large, rough hands over yours. The terror and anguish of the children, the shrieking of the man in the trap. It makes you dizzy.

"If you fail to do so before the time runs out, spikes will emerge from the contraption on your back, impaling you. Now we will see how disciplined you are."

The man gasps, and then, as the timer begins to tick down, begins to scream in earnest. You watch as he presses his foot down on the pedal, feeling the reverberation of his panic bounce back onto you.

"I can't do this," you say, squeezing your eyes shut, your nails digging into the fabric of the toy. Your head pounds with the echoes of the children crying, with their shame and embarrassment and panic, and with the howling screams of the man on the screen. It all layers, in a cacophonous symphony of violence and horror that drowns out all other thought.

"It's too much, it's so loud. I can't think, I- I need to shut it out." With one hand letting go of the toy, you dig into your jacket pocket, fishing for your prescription bottle.

"No, no," Mark snaps. He grabs your wrist, tight, and snatches the bottle of painkillers. "No more fucking pills. Watch."

"It's too much," you whisper, wincing. Your mind screams, unable to make sense of all of the information it's taking in. You need to think about this, but all you can do is feel, overstimulated and shaking-

"Detective. I don't think you've introduced me to your friend."

The dry voice cuts through everything else. You realize the screaming has stopped. When you open your eyes again, you see someone has paused the feed on the television.

It isn't live.

Mark freezes, his body immediately going stiff behind you. Although you've never heard this voice before, you recognize it all the same. You drop the teddy bear, as Mark removes his hand from your wrist and steps back away from you. The removal of the warmth of his body leaves yours feeling colder than before.

"Uh oh. You're in trouble," A second voice chimes in, sing-song and clearly elated that you've been caught here, together.

You're hoping Mark will say something on your behalf, but he doesn't. Your head pounds, and your skin feels almost too-sensitive, but if your intuition has ever told you anything, it's that this is not the time to fall apart.

So you turn, looking at the source voices, and muster up all of the courage you can. You are proud that your voice wavers only a little.

"Um. Hello. Jigsaw, and... Amanda Young, I assume." You cast a furtive glance at Mark, who finally seems to have recovered and composed himself, standing up straighter.

John Kramer sits in a wheelchair, wearing a long black and red robe that trails on the ground. Amanda stands behind him with her hands on the handles of the wheelchair, leaning her weight on it

Nothing about John Kramer suggests that he is weak or feeble to you, despite his thin frame and poor health. Instead, you sense a chessmaster, and a conqueror sits before you, a King in a throne. You get the image of a strategist who has been leading his troops through a war, claiming victory after victory through careful battlefield positioning.

"I can explain," Mark says slowly, keeping his voice even and calm.

"Oh, I'm listening," Kramer replies, tilting his head slightly and watching you carefully. His tone is curious and measured, and you sense that he's already re-arranging his plans in his mind, re-evaluating them and trying to determine how you're going to affect things. If he's angry with Hoffman, you can't tell.

"I wanted to test them myself, before I told you, in case it ended up being a waste of time," Hoffman says, shooting a glance at you, "I've never met someone so good at reading people. Except maybe you."

"You've got to be kidding," Amanda says, nearly laughing, "So you took them here, and showed them the footage from our last game? I knew you were an idiot, but this is really next level."

"We already abandoned this place as a workshop," Mark gestures to the TV, sounding irritated, "I sure as hell wasn't going to leave any evidence lying around after I took them home. Place would have been cleared out by tomorrow morning."

"And if they, oh, you know- reported you? Told someone?" Amanda asks. Mark looks like he's about to argue back at her, but John holds up a hand.

"I know you're smart enough not to take unnecessary risks, especially with your identity. But you should have brought this to my attention immediately," John says to Mark. Hoffman actually grimaces, like a kid being scolded.

John turns his attention to you, in cold and calculating interest, "What do you have to say?"

Cherish your life, the wind whispers in your ear. Right now, your life felt pretty fucking cherished, in the it-is-literally-on-the-line sense.

"I guessed that Detective Hoffman was one of your accomplices a few weeks ago," You answer, hoping that you're not going to talk yourself into a corner, "Not that I had any proof, but...he's been keeping a close eye on me, since then."

"And why haven't you gone to the police?" John asks, critical. The big question. Something urges you to just lay all of your cards out on the table.

"I don't... know, to be honest. Sometimes, things just come to me. Pieces of information, like drops of rain before a storm," John looks at you in interest, waiting silently, so you continue. "I feel like... the first one was personal, right? Like tiger stripes across the face, rough, rudimentary, righteous. He took something from you. Like the sun going out," You look at Mark. "The two of you are similar, like that."

Amanda and John stare at you, and you're worried you've said too much. Maybe you shouldn't have called his engineering rudimentary. You clear your throat, and shuffle your weight from one foot to the other.

"Interesting," Jigsaw remains expressionless, tone dispassionate. He looks at Mark's hand, still clenched around your prescription bottle, "...And the pills?"

You swallow. "Dampeners," you answer simply. He nods, like he understands, somehow. Amanda snaps her attention from you, to Mark, to John, like she can't believe what's happening. She makes a noise of clear protest.

"Come here, for a moment," Jigsaw says. You very much do not want to do that, but with Amanda glowering at you, you don't feel like you have much of a choice.

You walk over until you stand in front of him, heart hammering in your chest. With a hand, he beckons you to lean down, closer. Amanda looks just about ready to leap over his chair and strangle you.

As you lean in closer, you feel a prick on your neck. You look down to see John holding a needle, sticking it into your skin. He pushes an unknown liquid into your body.

"Oh," you say simply. Should have seen that coming.

The room goes dark.

---

When you wake up, you have gone from being in a bad situation to a much, much worse situation.

Somehow, you can sense that you were unconscious for a very long time. Now, though, you are wide awake, with adrenaline beginning to flood your body. Good- you're going to need it.

The first thing you register is that your eyes are very dry. The reason for this is immediately clear: your eyelids are being held open by a metal optician's speculum. You glance around your dark surroundings frantically in silent terror, unable to move your head. Some kind of a warehouse? No- a gymnasium. The school.

You can't move your body, either. You seem to be suspended in the air- how high up, you can't say- with your arms and legs locked into some kind of device. The height makes you nervous enough that you don't try to squirm.

Fuck. Stay calm. This is a Jigsaw game, which means there's a way out of it.

As you look back up above you, you can just make out through the darkness large jug of something positioned directly over your head. You catch the scent of something pungent and acidic.

It is becoming significantly harder to stay calm.

Below you, off to the side of the room, a television crackles to life.

"Hello," Jigsaw's voice says, addressing you by name, "I want to play a game." You can't see him, but you can imagine the puppet. Is the voice John's, Mark's or Amanda's through that modulation? You can't tell.

"You have been given a gift. A unique way of seeing the world. But you turn reject this strength. You silence it with painkillers, living in a wilful ignorance when you could know so much more."

So if it's John, someone has told him more about you. You wiggle your fingers. In each of your hands, there is some kind of device with a switch. Never a good sign.

"In your hands are two switches. By flipping each the switches, a single drop of acid will drop into your eyes, blinding you permanently. If you do not do so within two minutes, the restraints on your arms and legs will release, and you will be dropped in a tub of acid. I assure you, you will not survive."

Whimpering softly, the panic bubbles up in your chest, making it hard for you to catch your breath. It's much more difficult to turn inward and rely on your intuition with your eyes pried open- and maybe that was by design. If you could only shut them for a moment, then maybe your intuition could help you find a different way out of this.

"Will you embrace your gifts permanently by blinding yourself? Or will you die in ignorance? This is your test. Make your choice."

As the timer begins to tick, time seems to slow. You think of your mother's hands, holding you under the water, and the last words she said to you before she attempted to drown you.

Life is full of pain and bad people. She was right about that. You think of the kids from the school, forced to wait alone, curled up in the dark by their teacher. You think of Mark Hoffman, who delighted in the teacher's suffering.

You think of your cat Prawn, curled up by your head, and of the last time you grabbed lunch with Allison.

But she was wrong. Life is worth living, regardless.

You aren't going to fucking die here, alone. Not because of Jigsaw.

You flick the switches in your hands.

True to his word, the last thing you see are two drops of liquid, dripping down from above you into your eyes.

You scream as the acid burns you. You scream and you scream, until your voice breaks and your throat aches. You can smell the horrible scent of the acid burning your eyes, and hear something moving beneath you. A machine powers down, and you're slowly and gently lowered to the ground, no pool of acid waiting to swallow you whole.

When the restraints release your hands and feet, you rip the speculum out of your eyes, moaning in pain as you shut them and clutch at them. You curl into yourself, into a ball on the cold ground, and try not to cry.

And then, as you lie there in the dirt, panting and moaning, your awareness explodes. Your sixth sense replaces your fifth and crystallizes, smoothing out and filling in the gaps.

When you hear feet running to you, you already know whose they are. Detective Mark Hoffman, followed by Allyson Kerry. Detective Rigg isn't far behind.

You don't need to see to know.

"Kerry! Get over here, now!" Mark's voice barks out. You feel him lean in close to you, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and holding you to his chest.

"You did it," he murmurs into your ear, only for you to hear, "You fucking did it. I knew you'd win."

You reach out, clinging to him. It still feels comforting. It still feels protective.

Lies upon lies.

---

yes. I accidentally nuked my blog. 🥲 but thank you for the support on this fic series! I would love to hear what you think- comments help me figure out what people are enjoying about the fics and what people want to see more of 💕

TAG LIST: @icarusinstatic @honimello @haven-is-happy @karmaswitch @the-jester-calamity @teamhawkeye @thebrideofcaliban

NEXT CHAPTER

#mark hoffman #slasher fic #saw franchise #slasher x reader #saw movies #sawposting #costas mandylor #detective hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #mark hoffman x oc #my writing

159 notes · View notes

piedinthepiper · 4 days

Text

Before: Disease ˖ ⊹

Yandere!jimin x bully!reader

Summary: Before everything went down in his doctors office

Warnings: bullying, mention of smut, swearing

Wc: 2.1 k

A/n: someone requested the backstory to disease, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it!

This can be read as both a pt. 1 or pt. 2 to Disease. They can also be read separately, you decide!

Disclaimer: This is 100% fiction. I am in no way saying that this is how any member of bts would act. Nor do I condone the actions detailed in the story. This is purely for entertainment purposes only. If any of the warnings trigger you, or you’re under 18 ¡do not read! I’m not your mother, and I don’t take any accountability for what you decide to read online!

How could you be so perfect? Walking down the halls with your books tucked close to your chest. Talking and casually laughing with one of your friends. You always walked front and center. Like you were the mean girl. But you weren’t. Or you were, but he didn’t mind. You were his mean girl. You were the only reason Jimin hadn’t dropped out of school yet. He actually looked forward to every day now. Knowing that he’d see you. And if he was lucky he would maybe even get to talk to you. Or more you talk to him. Yell at him. Call him names and insult him. That’s what he loved so much about you. Your honesty. Always so straight forward. You were just perfect. Gorgeous. Always in skirts, sometimes they were really short. Not that he looked or anything, he was sure you would kill him if you found that out. But he was a man wasn’t he? What’s wrong about admiring a good pair of legs? You wanted to show them off didn’t you? He wondered if it was for him. If you knew the effect you had on him. The way he would think about you while touching himself. Pretending to fuck you pretty pussy instead of his cold hands. He knew it would happen one day. One day you would realise that the two of you were meant to be. He had known that since the day he met you. He would never forget that day.

“Watch it, nerd.”

The three first words you ever spoke to him. Jimin stopped in his tracks, looking over his shoulder to see who he bumped into, but also who that angelic voice belonged to. He was met with you. The most beautiful eyes he’s ever looked into. He stood there in awe. Taking in all your features. Eyes trailing up and down your body. Once he reached your eyes again he saw that your perfectly shaped eyebrows were frowning.

“Eww what’s wrong with you?!”

You asked sounding almost disgusted.

“Did you see the way he looked at me? Oh my god.”

You asked your friends who all looked even more disgusted than you.

“You could at least say sorry you know?”

“I- I’m sorry.”

“I- I-. You’re pathetic.”

You mocked him before turning around and walking away.

“Watch where you’re going next time loser.”

One of your friends added before she joined the rest. He didn’t care for your friends. All he could think about was you. Your words who were supposed to hurt him, had another impact. All he wanted to hear was your voice again.

Three years later his feelings were still the same. Your bond had only grown stronger after that eventful day. Your relationship had become a daily thing, and he couldn’t be more happy.

“God you’re such a nerd.”

You said as you sat down opposite of him, throwing your bag onto the floor next to you. He was studying for the next science exam in the library, one of the places he never thought he’d meet you. Not that he didn’t think you read or anything. It just didn’t suit you. You were too gorgeous to be surrounded by yellowing walls and cheap plastic chairs.

“Y/n!”

He said your name a little too excited, and was met with yet another disgusted facial expression.

“Anyways… you’re going to help me.”

You said.

“Sure. I’ll help you.”

You scoffed at his answer.

“It wasn’t a question.”

You added mockingly.

“You see, I need to pass the science exam. And the only one I know that has a miserable enough life to even care about science is you.”

He tried his best to hide his growing smile. You addressed him as someone you know. You think about him!

“I can make you pass.”

“You better.”

You got up from the chair and brushed off imaginary dust from your skirt.

“When you’re finished you’ll switch papers with me. I’ll make sure we’re seated next to each other.”

He was too busy checking out your figure to even comprehend what you were saying at that moment. You snapped your fingers at him.

“Hello? Stop fucking looking at me, freak.”

You said, and brought him back from his thoughts. That’s when he understood the reality of your words. If he switched papers with you he would fail, and he couldn’t put his career at risk. No matter how much he loved you.

“I don’t think I can do that.”

He stated and looked up at you, scared of what you would say next. You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Again, it wasn’t a question.”

He got up from his chair when he saw you were about to turn around and leave.

“Seriously, y/n. I can’t fail. I won’t get into-“

“Blah blah blah. Does it look like I care? You’ll do as I say.”

You interrupted him. He gulped at your tone, sometimes you could be really scary.

“But-“

“Listen here, dumbass.”

You suddenly reached over the table and grabbed him by his collar.

“How hard is it to get into your thick skull, huh?You don’t want to know what I’ll do if you don’t do as I say. Alright?”

He nodded carefully, and you let him go. You stayed bent over the table though. Jimin couldn’t help but look at your prominent cleavage. You slowly moved your hand to his face, he was ready to feel the embrace of your hand. He closed his eyes waiting for the moment, but was met with the sudden feeling of his glasses being slipped off his nose. He looked at you again, confused.

“Take this as a warning.”

You said coldly and threw the glasses on the grown. Thankfully they didn’t break. But the feeling of relief suddenly stopped as he watched your foot stomp down onto them. The sound of broken glass was heard through the library. He let out a little gasp.

“See you in a week.”

You said before you walked away, swaying your hips as you exited the library. What the fuck was he going to do?

He knew he had to help you. He didn’t want to end up with a broken nose, even if it meant you would put your hands on him. Besides he’d do anything to help you succeed. Maybe he would even get a thank you? He thought, bringing the science book even closer to his face. You had broken his glasses, a bit unnecessary in his opinion, but he won’t question your judgment. In order to study he had to have the book so close to his face he could feel it brush against his nose. He had come up with a plan though. If he studied even harder he could be able to finish your test super quick, and then he could just fill out the same answers on his own. It was his only option. So now he sat in his dark room with only the small table lamp lit. Book in his face as he desperately tried to remember everything for the exam.

He walked into the classroom, mentally going through all the information he read the night before. He saw you in the back. A finger twirling your gorgeous shiny hair as you looked him up and down. The sight alone was enough for his pants to tighten. He moved his textbooks down to his hips so you wouldn’t see the effect you had on him.

“Nice glasses.”

You sarcastically said. Giving him an evil smile. He pushed his new glasses higher up on his nose as he sat down beside you.

“Not even a thank you? How rude you are, Jimin.”

He almost moaned out loud when he heard his name fall from your lips. You rarely used his name, so whenever he was lucky enough to hear it from you he would usually have to go to the toilet and jerk off. If only you knew what you did to him.

“I’m sorry.”

He mumbled. You just scoffed at him before crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair to listen to the teacher who started speaking.

The exam went great. He had to spend a few minutes on erasing your scribbles on his sheet. It wouldn’t be appropriate to hand in an exam with “nerd” written all over it. But it went well, you didn’t get caught and both of you would get a good grade. He couldn’t be more happy. Until he saw you approaching him. He was sat outside, eating his lunch in his usual spot. You would always eat with the rest of the popular people inside. You would never eat outside in a secluded area on the ground, that’s just not you. You wouldn’t hide, like he did. So he knew you didn’t come to join him. He quickly swallowed before you were able to talk to him. Ready to hear whatever you had to say. But you walked right passed him. He followed you and your friends with his gaze as he saw the three of you heading to the parking lot. He realised that he wouldn’t get a thank you, that he wouldn’t even get to talk to you after he just saved your ass.

“Stand up.”

He suddenly heard your voice coming from right beside him. He looked up to find you with your hands on your hips. A displeased look painted your face. Again, he swallowed before standing up.

“You fucking creep!”

You yelled at him before delivering a harsh slap to his face. He couldn’t help but moan at the feeling. He reached for his cheek that had already turned red. He looked at you and found your face was in pure shock. Did he really moan that loudly?

“Did he just-“

He heard one of your friends whisper to the other. His blood went cold, he had never been so embarrassed in his entire life. Your mouth turned slowly into a devilish smile.

“How fucking pathetic was that?”

You started laughing, and your friends followed. He tried to make himself smaller. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“I’m s-sorry.”

He stuttered out and looked down at the ground. To his horror he found out that his pants was definitely bulging as well. He crossed his hands quickly over the area, not wanting to be tormented yet again. But it was too late. You looked him up and down.

“Please, don’t tell me you have a boner.”

You let out a small laugh, a “eww” was heard from your friend. You stepped closer to him. So close that his back had to press up against the concrete wall. You looked him deep in the eyes, your smile turning into a smirk. God, he felt like coming just from you being so close. Smelling your perfume and feeling your hands on his chest. His breathing rapidly increased.

“Do you think I’m hot, Jimin?”

You whispered to him. It took a few seconds for him to comprehend what you were saying. Too focused on the feeling of your manicured hands on him. Eventually he desperately he nodded.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

You asked with a small laugh. He couldn’t believe his ears. Was this his chance? Was this the moment he finally got you? He nodded yet again. You tsked at him as he felt your sharp nail tracing his cheekbone.

“Use your words.”

You said.

“Y/n, what the fuck are you doing?”

He heard one of your friends say from behind you. He didn’t look at her, only taking you in. He couldn’t believe this.

“Shut up!”

You quickly looked at your friend. Warning her in a mean tone. You turned back to him. Finding his dark eyes.

“Jimin was just about to say something.”

He couldn’t even remember his own name in the moment. Every single one of his senses was filled with you. He feared he would actually orgasm soon if you didn’t back off.

“Please- Y/n. Yes, I want to fuck you so bad!”

He begged. Almost yelling at you out of desperation. In the next moment you were laughing. He didn’t understand what he did that was so funny. Maybe he had been a little too forward, but you didn’t seem to care about that in the first place.

“Oh god. You’re almost cute.”

You said as your fit of laughter came to a stop. You stepped away from him, crossing your arms.

“I would never ever fuck you, pervert.”

Your tone turned from sensual to mean right away. His heart dropped to his stomach as your friends laughed at him.

“You’re so dumb! You really thought you had a chance with me! I wouldn’t even blow you.”

Yet again he felt like he wanted to disappear. How could you be so evil? So absolutely heartless? In that moment he realised what he had to do. He was going to get his revenge one day. Just you wait.

——————————————————————————

Thank you for reading! Do you want to read more?

Masterlist

57 notes · View notes