#song based imagine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lnfours · 4 months

Text

everything | l.n

summary: he’s your best friend and you’re in love with him, but he’s not in love with you. or so you think, anyway.

warnings: fluff, a hint of angst, reader not knowing how love feels, kinda a situationship scenario but idk, also kind of hot trash?? - inspired by ceilings by lizzy mcalpine

masterlist | inbox | listen

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

he was finally home. after months of busy schedules and being away from home, he was back. and the first thing he did? he texted you. he texted you and asked if you were busy, like he always did every time he was back in london.

you had told him no, your plans had fallen through last minute and to be honest, you missed him. you missed his laugh, the way he hugged you, the jokes the two of you shared. he was your person and you were his, it was as simple as that.

and sure, maybe he was your person for another, completely different reason. but at the end of the day, to you, he was just lando. he wasn’t ‘lando norris, formula one driver for mclaren’. he was the boy you had known since you were a teenager, the boy you cheered for on the sidelines ever since he decided he wanted to work towards his dreams.

so the two of you had made plans to go out for a drive and catch up, the tradition you held every time he came back. you’d drive around, get some take out, and head back to your apartment for a few episodes of your favorite shows or a movie he’d seen and thought you would like. he had picked you up, the mclaren running on the side of the street as you climbed in, closing the door behind you.

you smiled, leaning into his touch when he leaned over and wrapped you into a side hug from the drivers side, “hey! missed you,”

you smiled back at the brunette, his green eyes meeting yours, “missed you, too, lan.”

his eyes scanned yours before he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on your lips. a new tradition you two had picked up ever since that drunken night in singapore. you had went to the grand prix with max, showing support for your best friend, just like you always did. somehow, someway, the two of you had found yourselves stripping each other’s clothes off in his hotel room. nothing but the sounds of your quiet moans and his mumbled curses filling the room as you learned each other’s bodies.

and it had become a thing, every time he’d come home you’d both find yourselves in the same predicament: tangled in the sheets within the hour.

the whole ordeal was like a dream come true in the beginning, something you had been wishing for since the moment you realized that maybe you loved him more than in a platonical way. now, as you sat in the passenger seat of his car, legs tucked underneath you as the rain pattered against the roof, your food in your lap as you stared out to the city lights below you, you weren’t sure it was a good idea. you had seen the girls that practically throw himself at you, why would he choose you over them?

he noticed your silence, tilting his head towards you and placing a hand on your thigh, “you okay?”

you swallowed thickly, “mhm,”

he knew you better than that, though, “no you’re not.”

you sighed, how do you tell someone who’s not in love with you that you want something more, “‘m fine, really.”

you picked at your nails, ignoring the way your phone was buzzing against your leg. you had assumed it was your friend texting you, begging for updates between you and the boy you were sitting next to.

“you know you can tell me anything, right?”

not this. not now.

you nodded, “i know.”

he nodded back at you, “okay,”

you looked back out to the window next to you, watching the rain drip down the glass. you swallowed the lump in your throat, biting down on your lip as you felt the tears prick your eyes. you felt stupid, stupid to feel like there was ever a real chance. a real chance that he could ever love you the way you loved him.

you felt his eyes on you again, “y/n?”

you hummed, turning back to face him, which was a mistake. you felt like your heart was being ripped out of your chest.

“what’s wrong? seriously, i don’t know if i can handle the silence for much longer.”

you chuckled softly, shaking your head, “it’s nothing, really. promise,”

“stop lying to me,” he sighed, “c’mon, i’m your best friend. you can tell me anything.”

best friend.

you sniffled softly, which made his attention shift from your eyes to the small tear falling down your cheek in the dim lighting of the street light, “i just feel so… dumb.”

he raised an eyebrow, “why do you feel, dumb?”

he absentmindedly reached out and wiped the tear away with the pad of his thumb. you let out a shaky breath, shaking your head and backing away from his touch.

he looked at you confused, a hint of hurt in his eyes as he watched you cry in front of him. he was wracking his brain, trying to figure out where he went wrong. trying to understand what you meant with your words, all while trying not to make himself feel like he was the reason for your tears.

you opened the car door, the rain smacking the pavement as you stepped out, “i can’t,”

he watched as you closed the car door, stepping out into the night sky and cold rain. he sat there for a second, his brain unable to catch up to what had just happened. his brain caught up, opening his own door as he chased after you into the freezing cold rain.

“y/n!”

you didn’t want to turn around, your tears mixing with the rain on your face. he was faster than you, though, grabbing your hand and holding you back from walking away from him. he spun you back to face him, your face glowing under the street light as he noticed how broken you look.

“what’s wrong!” he yelled over the pouring rain, “please, don’t shut me out!”

you let out a quiet sob, “i can’t do this right now, lando!”

he stood in front of you, frozen, as you repeated yourself, softer now, “i can’t keep doing this to myself.”

he shook his head, “what’re you talking about?!”

“just say it!” you shouted back, “just say you don’t really want me so i can move on and forget about it and we can go back like nothing ever happened!”

“what makes you think i want that?” he asked, “y/n, why do you think i come back to london instead of monaco whenever i have a break? because i want to see you!”

“not for the same reason i want to see you!”

“you don’t know that!”

you cried softly, turning away from him as he approached you again, taking your face into his hands. your eyes met yours as he spoke again, “y/n, i come back home to you because you’re all i think about when im not with you. every little thing i do, i think about you.”

you watched as his eyes scanned yours, begging for you to speak. he spoke first, though, “you’re all i think about, every night, every day. i should’ve told you how i felt sooner instead of dragging you on, but i’m falling in love with you.”

you shook your head, backing away from his touch again, “don’t,”

“don’t what?” he asked, “tell you i’m in love with you?”

“don’t say it if you don’t mean it. please, don’t say it just to make me feel better.”

“for one second can you just stand here and actually listen to me?” he sighed, “can you let yourself understand that there’s someone who actually loves you, standing right in front of you telling you. someone who’s ready to drop everything and show you.”

he reached for your hand and pulled you closer to him again, but this time you didn’t back away. he was so close to knocking down the final wall you had put up, so close to knocking down the walls you had put up as a sense of security. to keep yourself guarded, too scared to wear your heart on your sleeve once again.

but here he was, your best friend of all people, standing here in the pouring rain and giving you the fairytale moment you had always hoped for. the boy with curly brown hair and gorgeous green eyes was everything you could’ve ever wanted. everything you dreamed about, every future map you’d come up with in your journal, it always had him in it. one way or another, the two of you were meant to be.

two souls intertwined. that was you and him.

“lando-“

“i fucking love you,” he said, “so much that it physically hurts. like my chest gets all tight, and it feels like i can’t breathe-“

“lan-“

“and that night in singapore was when i realized you were the person i wanted to be with. not the models or the girls who throw themselves at me, i want to be with you. the one who knows my favorite flavor of ice cream, the one who knows all my greatest fears and all my secrets. the one who doesn’t judge me and i can talk to about anything. it’s you. it always has been, i’ve just been to blind to see it.”

the final wall came crashing down as you said his name, “lando,”

he hummed, his heart damn near flying out of his chest as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your face so close to his as you mumbled a soft, “kiss me.”

he didn’t give it a second thought, immediately pressing his lips to yours. you kissed him back, the rain long forgotten about as the water from his hair dripped onto your forehead. he put every ounce of longing, passion and love into the kiss, a kiss nothing like the ones you had both shared before.

he pulled away, his forehead against yours, “you don’t have to say it back, but now you know that i love you.”

you pulled him back to you by his jacket, “i love you.”

he smiled before his lips were pressed back against yours. and you stood there, kissing in the rain, and everything felt like a scene straight out of a movie. the feeling something new to you no longer felt scary, or intimidating. it felt safe and warm.

and it was all because of him.

1K notes · View notes

hollisxwrites · 3 months

Note

heyy

i was wondering if u could write a percy jackson x reader ??

flowers in your hair

(percy jackson x child of apollo reader)

thank you for the request today guys! please keep requesting, i'll keep writing (lol)! thank you for all the love on "as long as i'm with you, hero"! again, please keep requesting, i'm loving doing these! see my introduction and who i write for here!

tv! percy jackson x child of apollo! reader (I think the reader remains gender neutral throughout the fic)!

i do not own this gif or the song!

word count: 2.7k

warnings: mr. d is kinda an asshole, kinda a mention of violence, a few swear words, some slight angst and jealousy, percy is a sweetheart, a few mentions of the l word 🤯 (love), making out, possible innuendos, idk how to write warnings.

summary: based on the lumineers song flowers in your hair. percy and the reader fall in love over time spent together in camp halfblood, but they refuse to admit it in order to keep their precious friendship, until one day the reader finally cracks. this is on the longer side! sorry!

I was twelve years old when I first came to Camp Halfblood. I was scared, cold, and completely alone, running from a horrific monster that was something out of my worst nightmares. The cold pellets of rain showered over me as I ran, until suddenly, the monster wasn’t chasing me anymore, the rain stopped, and I was in the middle of a clearing, staring directly up at a house, a big, sky-blue house. It was beautiful, to say the least. Close to the house was what looked like a... volleyball court? Down the path a little, I could make out the shape of smaller houses built with Greek architecture. I was intrigued, but also frightened. Had I come across some cult? My hair was drenched and I’m sure my shirt was see-through due to the peltering rain, but when I thought about it, the rain had stopped when I got within feet of the house. Curious (and desperate for someone's help), I walked up to the door of the big blue house and knocked on it. Minutes seemed to tick by until suddenly, the door burst open and a man, about middle age, holding a set of poker cards, came to the doorway.

“What the hell do you want kid? Can’t you see I’m busy? You know Campers aren’t allowed out past nine P.M. Now I would suggest you get back to your cabin before I kick your...”

Suddenly, the scary man was pushed aside by an even scarier man, a man with a horse bottom-half and a man-top half. I blinked once, twice, three times, and the man was still a horse. “Mr. D! This is not one of our campers! I told you to be kind.” The horse-man said to who I guess was Mr. D. “Come on in, young one. It looks like you may be a new camper.”

Mr. D took me into the house and gave me a change of clothes, black pants and an almost nauseating orange colored shirt that said ‘Camp Halfblood’ on it. I was still interested in finding out what this was all about, but I was even more worried about my safety. These random scary men were taking me into their house in the middle of the woods after being chased by a scary monster. What else could go wrong? I was gestured to sit by the fireplace, and the horse-man explained everything to me. I was in disbelief. The gods of the Greek myths are real? I was only able to access this camp because I was one and I was in danger? My mother slept with a Greek god? My life, at this very moment, was altered forever. It finally made sense why my mother hated me. I was, not only, the result of her ‘dumb teenager decisions’, but I also was the result of her being with a god?

The horse-man, who I found out was named Chiron, after explaining everything to me, took me to one of the cabins I had noticed earlier, and he told me it was Herme’s cabin, which is where I would stay until my godly parent claimed me.

When I entered the cabin, most of the kids were asleep, because it was gods know what time of night, except two boys, one with dark curly hair and a scar running down is face who I assumed to be at least sixteen, and one with the prettiest blonde curls and green eyes that I have ever seen who seemed to be about my age. The boys were sitting on a window seat looking out to another large, Greek looking structure, discussing something that seemed to trouble the younger boy. Chiron called the two boys over, and they came to meet me. Chiron introduced the older boy as Luke Castellan, Herme’s cabin counselor, and the younger as Percy Jackson, another new camper who has only been here for a day. Percy and Luke shook my hand, and Chiron left them to help me navigate the cabin and find somewhere to sleep.

“Nice to meet you, {reader}. It’s not every day we get a new camper, but when we do, I am always excited to meet them!” Luke Castellan said. He scared me a little, with his scar, and his height. His overall demeanor was slightly frightening, but I liked him all the same. He seemed to be welcoming and kind enough.

I smiled at him, trying not to catch the eye of Percy, who seemed to be looking at me a lot. “Nice to meet you too.” I said in a monotone voice. I didn’t realize how tired I was until this moment. “I’m sorry, I’m so tired, getting chased down by a monster and finding out I’m some god hybrid thing that sends demons out to get me all within two hours. Where am I supposed to sleep?”

Percy giggled. “I know how you feel. I watched my mom get killed by the minotaur last night, and here I am, not able to sleep cause of the nightmares. I should get some sleep too.”

Luke glanced around the cabin. “I’m not sure where you’re going to sleep. All the cots are occupied, unless you want to sleep on the beanbag chairs over there.” He pointed to the pile of frumpy beanbag chairs in the corner of the cabin.

“No, no. They can take my bed. I doubt I’m going to sleep anyways, y’know, nightmares and all.” Percy chimed in, probably noticing my disparity to sleeping on an uncomfortable looking beanbag chair.

I shook my head. “No way. You were here before me. It’s okay, I can take the beanbags, you take your space. I hope my dad claims me before too long, so I can take a couple nights.”

“I’m not letting you; you look too tired.” Percy said, in a voice that sounded almost threatening. “We can switch out if we’re both here for a while. I mean...if you want to.”

I smiled at the boy. He seemed kinder than anyone else I knew, even though that wasn’t saying much. I didn’t know many people. I did take Percy’s bed that night, and that developed our friendship that would eventually become the most invaluable thing in my life. I sat with Percy at every meal, he showed me around the camp to the best of his ability, and we decided to train together, as we were both new outcasts to the camp. Even after he was chosen to go to the Poseidon cabin through the game capture the flag, and I was chosen by father to go to the Apollo cabin, our bond only grew closer, and we still managed to find time in our busy schedules to spend time with each other.

One day, several months later, in these rare moments we were both free, I was lying on the ground in the strawberry fields that became my favorite part of the camp with Percy. We had a long day of training and decided to bask in the warmth of the camp, savoring the warm late summer days. I was picking dandelions out of the strawberries and weaving them together the way I used to do with my older sister. I was slowly making a crown out the buds, and it was turning out quite beautiful. It kept my easily distracted mind focused on what Percy was saying. He was going off on some tangent about Grover and his disloyalty to the camp and to Mr. D, something that Percy found alarming, as he was worried about his best friend’s safety.

“I’m just glad I have you, {reader}. You really have been a good...friend all these months at camp.” Percy said, grinning at me through the strawberry bushes.

My eyes twinkled when mine met his, and I placed the now completed dandelion crown in his blond curls that drew me to him the moment we met. “I’m glad I have you too, Perc. You made me feel a little less crazy.”

He smiled at me, the dandelion crown slipping down his face. “You’ll always be in my heart.” He blushed a little, as we are not usually this compassionate for each other.

“So will you!” I said, moving to put the flower crown back on the crown of his head. My fingers tingled under the small touch to his face, but I didn’t realize that it was love, at the time, at least I didn’t realize it was romantic love. That’s something I know too well now.

...

Five years later, Percy and I have not grown farther apart with age, we’ve grown closer. He saved the world, and I was always by his side through everything. He only grew more beautiful with age, too, his hair growing a little longer, eyes getting a little darker, scars from battles littered his arms, legs, and chest. He was always attractive to me, but now, it was even more so. He had also grown more physically affectionate towards me, brushing my hands with his, leaning on my shoulder during campfires, and even going as far to giving me kisses on the cheek when I saw him first thing in the morning and late at night when we left for the day. Sometimes, he snuck into my cabin or I into his if we had nightmares just so we could be with each other. His smell of sea salt and something else I couldn’t quite name (probably the blue candy that he ate daily), and it always comforted me during hard nights.

All of this to say, though, we were just BFFs. Best platonic bros. Nothing more, nothing less. I loved him, I had realized over the years, loved him a little too much it was unbearable sometimes, but he was rumored to be with other people all the time, even though I knew he wasn’t. He would tell me, right? Right? He spent pretty much every waking minute with me and every minute asleep most of the time, too, so I would know. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t jealous of every person he came across. I loved him, and he was my sea boy, and I was his sunshine.

That’s why, when we found ourselves in a very similar predicament to what we did all those years ago, during our first couple months at camp, I made a very risky move.

I was sitting, face angled up to the sunlight, weaving a dandelion crown in my trembling hands. Percy had grown, so the flower crowns I made him now were twice the size of the ones I made him all those years ago. I delicately made a pattern with the dandelions again, and I looked up at Percy from time to time to nod or make a comment on whatever he had to say, but it was mostly silent, him humming and picking at the ground below us, and me, weaving my crown.

Percy paused his picking at the ground and looked at me. I could feel his gaze on my face, and it made my cheeks heat up. I prayed to the gods that he thought it was just from the sun. “Do you remember when we did this, what, five years ago now? I would say we’ve grown a little, and we know more than we did then.”

“What do you know now that you didn’t then?” I said, eyes not leaving the project in my hands.

I assumed he shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess I know more about the gods, about the world, about you.”

Laughing, I finally tore my eyes away from the completed crown and I moved to place it on Percy’s head, settling it gently in his curls, careful not to mess up my handiwork. I let my fingers linger longer on his face than I did last time. “You know more about me, sea boy?” I asked him teasingly, finally meeting his eye that hasn’t left my face this entire time.

“I guess I do, I mean, I feel like I do. I feel like I’ve barely spent a minute away from you since that day.” He leaned into my hand that was placing feather-like touches on his face. “I mean, I know that your favorite color is yellow, you love the same music I do, and you hate when I call you sunshine.”

“You do know me, don’t you, Perc?” My hands dropped away from his face, and he pouted at the loss of contact even though our legs were centimeters from touching. I could feel electricity buzzing on my skin where our limbs were about to meet. That was something I always felt when I was close to him. I always assumed, back then, that his love language was physical touch, and so he was just being a good friend by how affectionate he was to me. How delusional I was.

“I sure do.” He flipped his body so that he was no longer facing me, instead he laid himself down on my lap. My hands instinctively went to his pretty hair, making sure to be mindful of his crown. “Y’know, I think I love you, {reader}.”

My heart, in this moment skipped a beat, but then shattered at the same time. He loved me, but in a friendly way. “You don’t mean that, Perc. At least, you don’t mean that the way I want you to.”

His head shot up from my lap, nearly slinging his flower crown from his head, and he turned back to face me at an alarmingly quick rate. “What do you mean, the way you want me to?” His hands met mine that were laying in my lap. He interlaced our fingers, and my entire body felt alive.

I blushed and looked back up to the boy I have loved since we were pre-teens. “I love you, Perc, but I love you, like in a romantic way. I hope it’s not too late, cause you’re so damn attractive. You have always been to me, always will be. I think I’ve just been scared. I value you so much as a friend that I didn’t want to lose you.” I refused to look up from our intertwined hands, embarrassed and saddened by my confession. I was half expecting Percy to scoff and walk away, kicking pebbles up at me.

Instead, he unclasped our hands and pulled my face up to look at him, his eyes shining in a way that I’ve never seen them shine before, his face glowing with a humongous grin. “I never thought you’d say that. You know that I have loved you all this time, too?”

My heart skipped several beats this time. I’m not kidding; I was about to go into cardiac arrest. “Are you kidding? You’re pranking me right now.” I hid my burning face on his shoulder.

His laugh vibrated underneath me, making me giggle, too. “I guess we’re both idiots.”

I hesitantly pulled my face off his shoulder and asked him the scariest question I have ever asked someone. “Can I kiss you?”

Our faces were inches apart when he whispered, “I thought you’d never ask.” The kiss was everything I could have ever asked for. At first it was gentle and loving, our noses bumping into each other, until eventually my hands found his hair and his found my waist. It was warm, and passionate, and everything I could’ve dreamt of.

He slowly pulled away from me, both of us panting, foreheads touching. “That was...perfect.”

I smiled. “Just like you, sea boy.”

His face met my neck now, and he pressed warm kisses to my exposed skin, his hair tickling my jawline. I squirmed under him, trying to suppress a groan. He lifted his head up, his eyes met mine. I thought he never had looked better. The flower crown I made him was lopsided now, diagonal across his head, his lips were red and bitten, his face was perfectly flushed, and his pupils were blown out. “How did I get so lucky?” He said to me.

“I am asking myself the same damn thing.” I smiled, keeping eye contact with him. He connected our lips once again, and that’s when I knew I was a goner. I had been all those years ago, but we have grown a lot since then. Percy being in my eyes and in my heart all the time harbored the feeling that I have been carrying, and now I get to express.

Years from now, I hope he still gets to be in my heart, and I in his.

#percy jackson show #percy jackson #percy pjo #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson angst #percy jackson x child of apollo! reader #percy jackson imagine #song based fic!

618 notes · View notes

updownlately · 7 months

Text

i like it when you hug me (‘cause i kind of feel you love me)

| leah williamson x reader | trigger warning for mentions of depression and self-loathing. please read at your own discretion!

~~~

“Hey…”

The voice echoing through the room had you burrowing yourself impossibly deeper into your comforter, nearly hiding your face beneath the blanket- the light peeking in from the hallway very much unwelcome in the dark room.

Shaking your head, you let out a shaky breath, quickly running your sleeve over your botched face, wiping it in case the quilt was moved away from you.

Stilling your movements, you listened carefully, on alert as Leah’s hesitant footsteps headed closer to the bed- closer to you.

With each subsequent step, you found yourself wishing she hadn’t entered the room at all and the self-aware part of you felt a pang of guilt bloom from your chest, mentally chastising yourself for being so selfish.

Please don’t care about me. Please just turn and leave.

You swallowed hard as the voices in your head spoke, eyes widening as you felt the bed dip. Curling in on yourself and shuffling backwards, you buried yourself further into the sheets.

Right now, all you wanted to be was alone. The kind of alone where your phone doesn’t make a sound, even though your ringer’s on blast. The alone where your door doesn’t move, not by a single millimetre, because no one’s coming in but you. The alone where it’s heartbreakingly lonely, achingly so, but you can’t think of a single person to call. You just wanted to be alone.

Holding your breath as the blonde neared your lumpy form, you waited cautiously for her next move- body on alert, ready to move further back at the slightest of touch.

You weren’t you right now and she most definitely didn’t need to witness that first hand- it was already embarrassing enough that you were hiding out in your shared bedroom all day, avoiding your girlfriend like the bubonic plague.

Lips moving but no sound coming out, you mouthed a silent plea to the universe, begging that she didn’t come closer. You didn’t know how badly you’d break if she did- and you didn’t want to find out.

Unluckily Luckily for you, almost as if your silent prayers were heard, Leah didn’t reach out for you, hand staying firmly put in the space between.

Smiling sadly to yourself, you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at her lack of touch, hand itching to pull her close, devil on your shoulder telling you to push her so far she forgot she was your home.

Taking a silent shuddering breath, pleading for the assault of thoughts in your head to go away, you did your best to be quiet. You tried your hardest not to acknowledge her presence, instead hoping she’d go soon enough. She didn’t need to be around you when you were like this. No one did. No one deserved that.

Quietly praying she’d leave you be, that she’d make this easy on you, you slowly moved your hand to wipe it on the bottom of your hoodie, hands sweating nervously.

I’m asleep. You can go. I’m perfectly fine.

The words you wanted to say but couldn’t- the lump in your throat holding you back.

Rather, you waited patiently for her to make a move, one that hopefully got you out of this situation without too many cruel words said, in your mind or elsewhere.

Unfortunately for you, regardless of the absolute pitch-black darkness in your room, Leah caught the movement, softly speaking when she realised you were most definitely awake.

“How we feeling about dinner?”

You stayed quiet at her words, hoping she’d convince herself you were asleep and leave.

You let the uncomfortable silence rest in your bones, its familiar presence a comfort.

You didn’t deserve to be taken care of. Especially not after how you’d hidden yourself away in your shared bedroom all day- ignoring Leah, the skipper being nothing if not understanding, letting you be as you pulled away. You didn’t deserve it and your brain did a hell of a job reminding you so.

Pity’s what brought her here- a clear look at you and she’ll run.

The long silence that accompanied the voice in your head was uncomfortable but you were used to it.

Taking small breaths to not make a sound, you felt your chest tighten with each passing second that she stayed.

I don’t want you here. I don’t want you here. Not for me but because you deserve better.

The words repeated in your head as your heart constricted, tired of you and wanting to be wrapped around your lover’s arms as much as you wanted her to go away.

It seemed like Leah knew as much, her shuffling closer to you and you could soon tell she was lying on the bed beside you.

“I know you’re awake…”

Her whispered words had your body tensing, any hope that you had of her leaving washing away as your leg vibrated restlessly.

You felt her gently tug on the edge of your quilt and you contemplated resisting, wanting to tuck yourself away in a cocoon but not being able to bring yourself to do so, guilt resting heavy on your shoulders.

Instead you slowly gave in to the skipper’s prodding, wincing as the cool air of the room hit you, reddened eyes and blotchy cheeks making themselves known in the dim light.

Shutting your eyes closed as her face came into view, you tried to shake the image of her pitiful gaze from your mind.

You deserve better. You deserve better. You deserve better than me.

The words continued to repeat, an echo in your otherwise silent mind.

You shouldn’t love me. You shouldn’t love me. You shouldn’t love me. You should leave.

Clenching your jaw, you missed the way Leah’s face softened at your clear distress.

She knew your mental health wasn’t the best, but she never got to witness just how poor it really got- not until now at least.

The way you had sluggishly left your bed nearly two hours after your alarm this morning- how you had hid from her all day, not bothering to have anything more than a few spoonfuls of yogurt for breakfast, completely foregoing lunch, and now, quite possibly dinner. The signs were clear, you weren’t fine.

You weren’t okay, not one bit, but if Leah had anything to say on it, she ached to tell you it was okay.

It was okay to not be you today, not when she was here, you didn’t have to run and hide.

But she couldn’t tell you right now, not with the way you barely met her gaze, head tucked in the crook of your elbow, tear-stricken cheeks just barely hidden, body tense.

So instead she placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, moving the arm on your face to the side as her hands travelled to your torso.

Tugging gently, the blonde pulled you into her embrace, hands coming to wrap around your midsection as you complied, tucking yourself into her side, too tired to protest.

If words weren’t what you wanted to hear, then she’d speak to you with her touch.

Continuing her efforts, you let out a small sigh as her hand came to smooth your messy hair, scratching your scalp gently, just how she would when she’d comfort you after a tough loss.

The ministrations coupled with the faint touch of her rubbing circles on your back, and you could feel your body relax, gears in your mind beginning to slow as your hands shyly made their way to grab fistfuls of her hoodie, not wanting the comfort to leave- not wanting her to leave.

Surprised at the Englishwoman’s actions, you burrowed your face into the crook of her neck as you felt the knot around your heart loosen just a tad bit, a grateful breath escaping you.

You sunk into her grasp as you ignored the dying voices yelling in your head, your weight rest wholly on top of the midfielder's body, back muscles going slack as you let her warmth break through the iciness plaguing you.

Thank you for staying, for being patient, for caring.

The words went unspoken whilst you waited as the rock in your throat to slowly shrink.

And as a minute passed and then two, her grasp on you only getting stronger, more assuring, you couldn't help be grateful.

All your unsaid words from earlier finally had the chance to be spoken now, chest light, speech coming easy.

Letting yourself snuggle into Leah’s hold, feeling her place a soft kiss on your crown, you finally had a breath of comfort, nearly crying in relief.

Though the voices in your head didn’t quite disappear, she made living a bit easier, the simple act of breathing no longer a chore.

It’s why your murmured words finally came easy, heart floating, your grip tightening in adoration.

“I love you.”

#fuck it not proofread #based on the song half hearted by we three #s/o to the one person from the poll that listens to we three! :D #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #woso community #my writing #blurb #iliwyhm #hurt/comfort

581 notes · View notes

littlexscarletxwitch · 4 months

Text

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗳𝗶𝘅 𝗶𝘁

paring: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

tag(s): idk what this is lol, some angst, a drop of fluff, mostly toxic and dark (?), but it's wanda so it's fine

warning(s): toxic relationship, mentions of death/killing someone, possessive wanda, dark!wanda, mind control, manipulation, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 1.7k

note: I'M ALIVE. Sorry for disappearing, december was rougher than I had expected lol. But I'm here now, and I appreciate all the love I had gotten while being away. I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH. Hope you enjoy! <3

requests are open! + check my rules + masterlist <3

The burning feeling on your stomach was creeping all over your body, you felt your entire self giving into the pain and felt your eyes closing as painful tears rolled down your cheeks.

You told yourself that you only needed a second and that you would be alright, so as you could only see the darkness, you let the pain take over. But then, once you opened them, you could only feel a pair of arms exactly where you had felt like dying.

A tingling feeling on your neck and her hot breath put you at ease. As Wanda kissed your soft skin, you realised that it was just a dream, a really bad one, but a dream nonetheless. And she was there holding your healthy and life full body, keeping it warm with her own body heat and the bedsheets.

“Good morning, detka,” she breathed out, her voice muffled by your skin.

“Good morning indeed,” you agreed, turning your head for your lips to desperately find hers, making sure she was actually there.

Her lips were always soft, always fitted against yours, always found some silly comfort when she would bit your bottom lip. But this time it felt off, they had some unknown roughness to them, they felt stiff, not familiar and her teeth bit harder than usual. You instantly pulled away, furring your brows at the discomfort, which didn’t go unnoticed by her.

“Everything okay?” she whispered, already knowing the answer.

Wanda felt your body go rigid in her arms, so she did what she had to do to fix it. With a gentle tap to your temple, your eyes flashed red for a second and once they were back to their original colour the frown had disappeared along with the red scarlet hue from her fingertips.

“Do you want to go take your morning shower and I’ll make us breakfast?” she pretended like nothing had happened, because nothing had actually happened. Nothing she couldn’t fix, at least.

She learned from the first time this kind of incident took place that it was better for the both of you to pretend as if it had never happened. She always made sure to keep her magic strong, but she had to give some credit to your strong human mind. She made a mental note to never put her guard down or she would lose you all over again, and she would rather die than let that happen.

You nodded, placing a soft kiss to her forehead then making your way to the bathroom, as her eyes lingered on your frame. Before you exited the room, you quickly glanced at her with a bright smile on your face, and Wanda felt like she couldn’t breath just by you looking at her.

She was completely in love with you. It was crazy the hold you had on her, but it was okay, she was fine with being crazy about you. She loved you too much, too hard that she knew the feeling could kill her. But she would die happy anyway, she couldn’t help it, it was the way that she was. She felt as if you were under skin, always on her mind. She had never felt this close to someone before and she knew you were the one for her.

You were her poison, but Wanda was your disease. You got her weak on her knees. She would do anything you asked her to, any demand or request, as long as you remained by her side, and she would make sure you would always stay with her.

With a smile on her face, she made her way downstairs to get on with breakfast, knowing she had everything she had ever wanted.

The moment your naked body got in touch with the warm water, you felt your body going numb. You let the warm water relax all your muscles and with a deep breath you felt as if you were falling asleep. The sound of the pouring water put you in some kind of trance and you felt as if you got back to dreaming.

It was all foggy, but you recognized where you were: your old flat, before moving in with Wanda. The floor was red, but you didn’t remember ever having a red floor. You tried to focus on the dream too captivated to know what would happen next. And then as clear as daylight, Wanda was in front of you. But she didn’t look like her happy self, she looked mad, and her eyes were shining red. You knew that was a bad sign.

Your eyes shot open at the scary image and scary thought your mind had pictured for you. You felt bile creeping up your throat at the thought that Wanda would do anything to hurt. It was a silly thought, unrealistic even, she would never do such a thing. She loved you, she took care of you, she protected you.

You shrugged it off, letting the water wash away the horrible thoughts and got out of the shower, ready to start your day with your lovely girlfriend who loved you more than anyone in the world.

As you took a look into your mirror, your eyes wandered around your almost–naked body. You were thinking if Wanda would appreciate the sexy lingerie for later, when your eyes just wouldn't pull away from your stomach. A small scar was on your side, almost invisible to the eye but now that you were paying attention it seemed as if it was getting bigger and bigger.

Your mind wandered around the dream you had, feeling the deadly pain all over again. As your fingertips traced the small healed wound, the memories came rushing to your mind. It was a lot of information for your brain to handle all at once, the more you understood the more you felt like someone was hammering your brain.

But it was all now crystal clear. The red floor which was never red to begin with, the stern look on Wanda’s face, the screaming and shouting, begging her to stop, and, of course, the pain in your stomach.

You ran to the bathroom and threw up, not able to contain your body juices anymore. It was all real, none of it had been a dream. Once you gathered yourself and your own thoughts, you made your way back to your bedroom, put on some clothes and ran downstairs to find her.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted waffles or pancakes… so I made both,” she turned to you with a smile, but it faltered once she saw the look on your face.

You looked at her in the eyes, trying to hold your chin up. “You killed him,” it wasn’t a question but there was still some doubt in your tone, you didn't want to believe it was real.

“Here we go again,” she muttered to herself.

“We broke up,” you went on as you remembered every detail. “I found someone, someone I loved,” you felt tears burning your eyes. “But you didn’t like it, and you had to take that away from me.”

“He didn’t deserve you, he was bad news.”

“You killed him!” your bottom lip was trembling, you were scared and angry. “And you almost killed me,” you called her out as you made sense of the scar on your stomach.

“I would never…” it pained you would think she would do anything to hurt you. “I would never hurt you, Y/n. Ever.”

“But you did,” you sobbed. “I loved him, I loved…” you were a shaking crying mess.

“Detka, it’s okay. I can fix it…” she said, getting closer to you.

“Stay away from me!” you took a step back, but she had already corner you in between the kitchen counter.

“Shh…” she coed, and though you wanted to scream and make a run, your body betrayed you and found some sick comfort in her hands cupping your cheeks and her forehead resting against yours. “I can fix it,” you heard her whispering as your eyes closed.

Wanda’s fingertips lighted up against your skin, her scarlet red magic doing its work and fixing up the memories you had in your brain. This time she concentrated longer, making sure the spell wouldn’t falter. She had been so caught up in her fantasy world that she didn’t notice how bad she had been slipping off. She knew you needed her to be better than this, and she promised herself she would be.

Little by little, she erased all memories of your ex, the year and a half you had spent with it, the home you two had built. But the memory she put all her mind to was the night she made sure you belonged to her.

“We can be together, baby. You can stay forever,” it wasn’t much of a request but her demanding it from you.

She made sure you forgot how you hd opened up the door to a pissed off Wanda; how she had let herself inside your home; how she had yelled both at you and your boyfriend; how pissed he had got; how one thing had led to another and next thing you knew you were holding your boyfriend’s dead body covered in blood; how you had yelled at her; how angry you had got at her; how angry she had got at you because you just wouldn’t understand; how you had grabbed a kitchen knife, scared for your life with her being present; how she had chased after you; how you had got accidentally stabbed and passed out for all blood you had lost.

“Nothing else matters,” she reassured.

She replaced all of those memories —bad memories— with happy ones. Just the two of you, the only thing you needed. She didn’t rush, she took her time picturing every single one for you, making sure her magic would last longer. And as she finished, she pressed her lips against yours, sealing the spell as you kissed her back.

It took you a second to be out of the trance she had put you in.

“I think I’d rather have the waffles,” you said with a big smile on your face.

“Then waffles it is,” Wanda smiled back at you, her heart at ease knowing she had fixed it once again.

And she would keep on fixing it, as many times as she would have to. It didn’t matter, for all she knew she would happily bury you by her side just to keep you.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #littlexscarletxwitch's fic #Spotify #[🎧⊹♡] based on songs i love

235 notes · View notes

murdockparker · 1 month

Text

Paralyzed

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: She walked in on a Friday afternoon. Steve needed nothing more than to get to know her--if only he could find it in himself to speak to her.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: just pure fluff, mentions of murder (but not frfr)

A/N: no this isn't based on a big time rush song you're crazy anyway!! I think this is my first real Steve fic? The first real one I got around to posting I guess. Cheers!

It was a Friday afternoon.

Correction, it was a terribly busy Friday afternoon. Family Video was seemingly the place to be, people swarming the building in hopes of renting new releases for their perspective weekends. Steve usually loathed his Friday shifts for this exact reason, countless questions about the new tapes, a dozen or so mothers berating him when a certain movie is out of stock—as if Steve Harrington himself is the reason behind the madness.

But, this afternoon was different.

This afternoon she walked in.

He had enough of the madness, leaving Robin all alone to deal with the wolves for a mere five minutes—he needed to get out of there. With his head in his hands, he sat on an unopened box filled to the brim with different assortments of candy—candy he needed to stock sometime today, a fact he surely couldn’t have forgotten even if he tried. Only two minutes into his escape, Robin came bounding in the backroom, a wild look grazing her eyes.

“Steve,” she nearly panted. “You gotta take over for a minute. This woman is just—ugh—not taking no for an answer! I told her we don’t have The Breakfast Club in stock, but oh no, why trust the employee who rented all ten copies earlier today? Huh? How about we give the girl who makes a little over three bucks an hour a hard fucking time!” Robin was rambling at this point, the words falling deaf on Steve’s ears.

“Robs,” Steve groaned, finally looking up at his friend. “Give me another minute, I have a nasty headache—”

“Me too, Harrington,” Robin sighed, plopping down on the box next to him. “Her name’s probably Debra and she’s a beast in fake leopard print.”

Steve snorted with laughter. “Fine, I’ll head back out there,” he stood up, dramatically dusting off his jeans. “I just don’t know why the hell our help wanted sign hasn’t brought in more folks, we’re dying out here.”

“No one wants to work for Keith,” Robin said simply.

“Damn straight,” Steve pointed, pushing his way back onto the sales floor. The leopard printed demon was nowhere to be seen, much to Steve’s utter relief—he didn’t have the energy to fight her off anyway. Finding his way behind the counter, the doorbell rang out, a pavlovian response nearly spilled from Steve’s lips. “Welcome to Family Vid—”

His heart stopped.

She was gorgeous, like she just stepped out of a magazine ad—the one’s his mom bought, not the trashy shit they sell down at the gas station. Sunglasses adorned her temple like a crown, her hair perfectly falling around the pink lenses. Steve didn’t know what to say, it felt as if he simultaneously forgot all the words in the English language and stuffed seventeen Saltines in his mouth—he was tongue tied.

“Uh, hi,” the girl said softly, waving towards the frozen spectacle behind the counter. “I saw you have a help wanted sign outside?”

Steve could only nod, making a good effort to keep his jaw from falling on the floor.

“Well,” she smiled, the kind that would make babies giggle at the sight, “I just moved here and sorta need a job so…” A resume was placed on the counter before him. It looked professional—way more than what Family Video could ever hope to ask for from an applicant, anyway. Steve couldn’t stop reading it. She was literally an angel, an answer to his very prayers—every one of them. If he had the power to hire her on the spot, he’d be tossing her a green vest from the back without a second thought. Part of him was cursing the fact Keith wasn’t here to interview her this very second, he needed to get to know this girl.

“I-I…” Steve tried to speak, feeling his cheeks grow inflamed with embarrassment. He wasn’t used to being so… foolish around a girl.

“Steve, is it?”

She knew his name.

Of course he knew she read it off his name tag, he wasn’t that thick, but hearing it come straight from her lips? He could have melted directly into the floor and no one could have stopped him.

“Yeah, this doofus here’s Steve, I’m Robin,” Robin appeared by his side, seemingly in the knick of time. “Don’t worry about him, we’re getting him the help he needs.”

The mystery girl giggled. “Ah, I see.”

“You want to apply here?” Robin asked, prying the resume from Steve’s—reluctant—hands. “Oh thank God, we’re dying for more bodies around here.”

“I love movies,” she explained quickly, noting how intently Robin was reading over her simple paper. “A-and I used to work at a movie theater back home before moving here, so I know a lot about the recent releases—”

“I’m gonna be honest,” Robin said, leaning onto the counter, voice dripping with secrecy. “You’re probably too good for this place, I mean, way too good for this shit-hole—”

“I need a job,” she repeated, almost desperately. “My folks forced me to move here and I’m trying to save up to get my own place back in Chicago, I’m not built for this small-town bullshit.”

This made Robin explode with laughter and Steve shrivel in despair. She had an expiration date—a way out of Hawkins.

“Well, I’ll make sure to pass this off to our manager—with a glowing recommendation, of course,” Robin winked.

“I appreciate it!” She smiled again, the sight nearly had Steve wishing he had his own pair of sunglasses to wear—it was blinding. “Well, I hope to see you guys around?”

“We’ll be here!” Robin called out, watching the girl walk back towards the door and out towards her car. A hand smacked across Steve’s bicep.

“Hey!” He finally responded, rubbing the aforementioned spot. “What the hell?”

“I should bring that whiteboard out of retirement,” Robin arched her brow. “You’re positively hopeless, Steve Harrington. What the fuck was that all about?”

“I don’t know, Robs,” Steve sighed. “She was just—I didn’t even know what to say!”

“Clearly,” she snorted. “You looked like a gaping trout—”

“I did not—”

“This was worse than the girl who asked for a Mint-Choco Deluxe and you handed her a straight scoop of ice cream—no cone. I had to practically chase her out with a stack of napkins and a thousand apologies.”

Steve cringed at the memory. “Maybe…”

“When Keith hires her—and you know he’s gonna—you better get your act together. I don’t wanna deal with…this every day.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve waved. “Sure.”

And deal with it, she did.

(Y/N) was her name, Steve had the pleasure of unpacking her new name tag for her first day. He almost wanted to keep it, but figured it would make him look like a crazed lunatic. Patiently, he waited by the front door, hoping to see her pull up in her car, ready and rearing for her first day on the job. Steve begged Robin to allow him the pleasure of training her, given he could somehow speak in her presence, of course. She simply rolled her eyes and agreed to the shift exchange.

A shiny, cherry-red BMW peeled into the lot—Steve noted it looked awfully familiar to his own car, minus the color of course. It seemed a bit out of place in a small town like Hawkins, but the car had suited her just fine. Everything about her suited her kindly, Steve had noticed, especially the clothing she wore. Family Video was no place for a fashion show, Steve could attest to that himself, but with the way she was practically strutting towards the doors? The parking lot was her runway and he was begging to see more.

“Good morning!” (Y/N) greeted cheerfully, pushing the glass door open wide.

“Morning,” Steve managed to squeak out. He pushed the unflattering green vest towards her. “Your uniform.” She easily slipped the fabric over her own shirt, the stark whiteness of her blouse really made the green pop.

“Well?” She spun around, twirling like a princess. “Do I look the part?”

Steve could only nod.

“So what’s the first thing on the agenda? Do y’all have a time clock?”

Steve nodded again, pointing his thumb towards the break room.

“Ok..ay…” She said quietly, walking in the direction she was given.

He could cry—it was so pathetic. The way this girl had him so worked up? How was he expected to train her? No, forget training her, how was he supposed to even talk to her? Steve had been in pickles before, but this one took the cake.

“So you just… don’t speak then?”

She had managed to sneak up behind Steve, who had clearly been deep in thought. Her angelic voice alone made him jump.

“I-I speak,” Steve explained. “I just… have a lot on my plate currently, s’all.”

“I’m sure working at the Family Video is real hard work, superstar,” she giggled, jumping up onto the countertop. “But I’m glad I don’t have to understand your training through charades."

“I’m pretty good at charades,” Steve said, crossing his arms. “O-or so I’m told…”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she smiled. “But seriously, I really thought you just didn’t want to talk to me or something.”

That couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

“So… I should probably show you the computer system for rentals,” Steve tried changing the subject—poorly, but she graciously turned her attention to the computer she so-conveniently sat next to. “Y’know, because that’s like, the entire job.”

The girl leaned in, not daring to remove herself from the counter top, trying to see what Steve was clicking on.

“You seem tense,” she noticed.

“It takes me a while to get warmed up to new people,” he lied.

“What? Like a cat?”

“…exactly like a cat.”

“Well, Steve,” she hopped off the counter, “it’s a good thing I like cats.”

He tried his best to hide the redness flooding his cheeks.

She made Family Video more enjoyable, even after her first shift, Steve thought. He already liked the job enough, spending time with his best friend and getting paid for it was already a huge perk, but now that he got to know her? He might just keep this job forever.

Forever lasted only four months.

“Steve!”

He peeked his head over the horror aisle, finding (Y/N) staring at him expectantly from the front counter.

“Yes?”

“I’m dying over here,” she said dramatically, falling over on the countertop. “It’s so… boring.”

“It’s a Monday morning,” Steve said simply, commanding every fiber in his being to not shrug at the statement. “Mondays are usually boring around here.”

“Everything about Hawkins is boring,” she said, not lifting her face up from the counter. “How do you manage living in this God-forsaken town?”

“I don’t think everything is boring,” Steve scoffed, ignoring the rest of the tapes that needed to be put away. His feet were already leading him towards the counter, as if they had a mind of their own. “I mean, I doubt you’ve run through everything this town's got to offer?”

She lifted her head up from the counter, a red mark gracing her forehead. “In the last four months of living here? I think I have. Hell, the one cool place y’all could have had burned to the ground.”

Steve winced at the mention of StarCourt, the wounds still fresh. “It wasn’t that cool…”

“Fine,” (Y/N) propped herself up, head in her hands, “name one cool place in Hawkins.”

“Skull Rock.”

He doesn’t know why he said it.

“Skull Rock?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve sheepishly said, hand finding the back of his neck quickly. “It’s the go-to for the coolest kids in Hawkins—made popular by yours truly.”

“And what exactly is Skull Rock?” Her arms were neatly crossed by the time he managed to look back at her.

A make-out spot.

“A-an… experience?” Steve squeaked, trying his best to sound cool. “It’s hard to explain, you just kinda gotta go and see for yourself.”

“Huh,” she tutted. “Why haven’t I heard of this Skull Rock until now? Certainly if it was as neat as you say it is I would’ve heard about it by now.”

“It’s underground,” Steve tried to convince her. “Not physically, I mean. It's above ground, I promise. Underground in the sense that only the cool kids know about it.”

She snorted. “Cool kids?”

“Y-yeah,” He tried to double down.

“As in, like, high schoolers?”

“Other people besides high schoolers can be cool kids, y’know,” Steve said, trying his best not to cough.

“Maybe I’ll ask Robin about it when she comes in—”

“I could take you?” Steve is quick to interject. “To Skull Rock, I mean. Tonight, if you’re free.”

A smile crept across her ruby red lips. “Like a date?”

“Pshht, no,” Steve waved. “Like a thing friends do! An activity of sorts.”

“Sounds like a date.”

“An activity,” Steve corrected, feeling queasy at the thought she may actually say yes.

As if mulling over her options for the evening, (Y/N) stared directly into Steve Harrington’s brown eyes, pinning him to the spot with such a glare. “Hm. Alright.”

“A-alright?”

“Do you think I have to change for this ‘activity’?” (Y/N) motioned her hands up and down her body, giving Steve actual permission to fully look at her. Her outfit was already sensible enough—she was here to work, after all—he didn’t ever see a reason for her to change.

“Maybe different shoes?” Steve offered, looking down at her feet, adorned with ruby red flats to match her lips.

“What sort of shoes do you recommend? These are my favorite flats.”

“Sneakers. Something you don’t mind getting dirty—”

“I don’t mind getting these dirty.”

“Something more suitable for the forest,” Steve amended. “Sticks, mud, poison ivy. Would hate for the tops of your feet to succumb to that bullshit.”

“Succumb,” (Y/N) repeated. “Big word.”

“Average word,” Steve mumbled, feeling only a tad bit embarrassed.

“Average is fine,” she shrugged. “I have sneakers in my car. We could go after work?”

—

Six o’clock couldn’t have come faster.

Steve had spent the last few hours of his shift trying to best plan his escape from Family Video—an escape that involved pulling (Y/N) into his car before Robin could tell her what Skull Rock really was. Thankfully, (Y/N) hadn’t had the mind to tell Robin what their plans were after work yet, but he knew it would come.

The minute hand finally ticked to the top of the clock. 6pm on the dot. Steve practically threw off his vest and ran to the wall clock to punch out.

“In a rush?” Robin asked.

“Something like that,” Steve said, not wanting to share much more.

“Well, enjoy yourself Rob!” (Y/N) nearly sang, now standing behind Steve waiting for her turn with the wall clock. “I left the counter nice and warm for you!”

“I know you meant that to sound endearing, but it just sounds gross,” Robin laughed, not even looking up from the book she had been reading. “Get out of here before Keith makes you both work overtime.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” (Y/N) said, pushing her pink sunglasses—which were housed in the tiny locker she used every day—onto her head. “Besides, we’ve got plans.”

“We?”

“Gotta go Robin!” Steve could only shout, pushing (Y/N) out of the small room in the back—it could hardly be called a break room. Containing a small T.V on the wall, a stack of lockers, a small fridge, quaint table and a broken microwave.

“Alright, weirdo,” (Y/N) laughed, “we made it outside.”

Steve hand only blinked, but she was right. Somehow he didn’t recall the jaunt from the break room to the front door, much less the fact they made it out to their cars. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she laughed again, “oh.”

He was sure his face was the near same color as her lipstick—cherry red and probably emitting the heat of a thousand suns. “Are you gonna change your shoes?” Somehow he strung together a full sentence.

“Go start up your car, pretty boy,” (Y/N) said smoothly, “I’ll meet you in a second.”

Pretty boy.

Start up his car, he did. He fumbled through the few cassette tapes he stored in his glove box, eager to find one she’d like. Though a thought like this had crossed his mind a handful of times, he never thought she’d actually agree to go out with him. No, not go out, this wasn’t a date. Right?

She had called him pretty boy.

And he was planning on taking her to the unofficial make out spot of Hawkins.

Maybe it was a date.

“There!” (Y/N) exclaimed, sliding into his passenger seat, showing off her worn shoes. “My well-loved sneakers! Just like you requested. How I allowed you to talk me into going to a random forest is beyond me.”

Me too. Steve thought.

“You’re not going to murder me, right?”

“What!?” Steve had already begun driving to their destination, but her sudden question had him nearly swerving off the road. “No!”

“That’s what a murderer would say.”

“I—why would I…?” Steve was at a loss for words. “If I was going to murder you, don’t you think I’d admit to it at this point?”

“No,” she shrugged, crossing her legs. Her sneakers were red too—her favorite color, perhaps? “I assume you’d admit it right before you kill me, not in transit to the murder location.”

Steve could only laugh. “You confuse me.”

“You love me,” she admonished.

Maybe he did, and if he didn’t? He certainly could see himself, though, sooner than later.

It only took another fifteen minutes of driving to reach their destination, parking his beloved BMW in a spot he knew all too well—part of himself cringed that he could admit that, even to just himself. “We’re here.”

“I’m still not convinced you’re not going to murder me,” (Y/N) hummed, hopping out of the car, a spring in her step.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, popping his trunk to dig for a blanket he knew he had left behind for one reason or another. “Come on,” he ducked his head towards a clearing, “it’s this way.”

“You really have to start explaining the appeal, Harrington,” (Y/N) said, pushing past a rather suspicious looking bush, following closely behind Steve. “This trek is nothing to scoff at.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I thought the murder accusations already confirmed that I did not?”

“Yet you still got into a car with me,” Steve said.

“I still got into a car with you,” she repeated.

As if on cue, Skull Rock, in all of its glory, peeked through the brush and into view—thankfully with no one else around.

“We made it!” Steve exclaimed, nearly impressed he remembered how to get here. Quickly unfurling the blanket he grabbed, he sat on the ground. “Come on, I promise it’s clean.”

“Doubting that,” she said, still sitting beside him. “So, spill it, what makes this place so cool?”

Steve took a deep breath.

“I, uh, may have stretched the truth a bit?”

“How far?”

“Huh?”

“How far did you stretch the truth?”

“Not by much…”

“You’re sweating,” she pointed.

“No I’m not!” Steve said, trying his very best to not look down at his pits, afraid they were betraying him. Looking back up at the girl sitting beside him, her ruby lips were twisted in a wicked smirk. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Nah,” she said, almost sounding honest. “But I also know pretty well what goes on around this rock—sick as fuck, by the way, it really looks like a skull.”

“You know about Skull Rock?” He was nearly dejected, embarrassed, even.

“I do.”

“And you still came here with me?”

“If it meant I could spend some time with you outside of work? Sure,” she said with her brilliant smile. “Though, don’t expect any swapping of saliva.”

“Then why…?”

Her knees tucked under her chin, arms wrapped fully around them. “I don’t have many friends here. You and Robin kind of are it for me, at least, since I moved here. I figured I should try and spend time with y’all before I move again.”

Her big move. The one she was saving up for.

“Back to Chicago, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Though, it’s going to be a while until I do actually move. Who knew trying to rent your own apartment in a big city is stupid expensive? Wait—don’t answer that, that’s a stupid fucking observation.”

“It’s a bit silly,” he agreed, trying his best not to laugh. “But, yeah, way more expensive than Hawkins.”

The sun had begun to set, not that they could see it, through the trees and all, but the sky was now a warm orange. The kind of color that reminded Steve of summer, melted creamsicles and sweet memories.

“What’s in Chicago, anyway?” Steve finally asked, eyes glued to the sky. The question had been on the tip of his tongue since he met her. “I mean, I never really hear you talk much about it—only when you feel the need to dig at Hawkins.”

“It’s where I grew up,” she shrugged. “All of my friends are out there, my life is out there.”

“I mean, you did just say Robin and I were your friends?” He offered, leaning back on his hands.

She narrowed her gaze, pulling her head up from her knees ever-so-slightly. “Most of my friends are out there,” she corrected. “I just… my dad moved out here for work, a job he literally can’t tell us about—my mom is stuck being some bored housewife waiting every night for him to come home, slaving over a home cooked meal, and I’m just his failure of a daughter who works at a video store.”

Steve knows that feeling a bit too well.

“It doesn’t even have to be Chicago,” she chuckled, mostly to herself. “I just can’t stay here. My forward thinking mind is too big for this town. I figure, maybe in the city I can find myself, figure out what this planet has in store for me, you know?”

“I do.”

“You do?”

“I mean, I never had the thought to leave Hawkins,” Steve said, still looking up at the sky—darker now, but still orange. “Especially now with all of the…”

How does he explain the Upside Down? Does he explain the Upside Down? No. She doesn’t need to know. Not yet, anyway.

“…you know, the missing people,” he finally said, finding the right explanation. “But the idea of going to a big city, finding my way and maybe figuring out what this big head is good for?” His self deprecating laugh echoed from under the large rock formation. “I get it.”

“Y’know,” (Y/N) relaxed her grip on her knees, “my mom had hesitations about moving here because of the missing people—afraid I was going to go missing too.”

“And your dad still moved you here anyway?” Steve still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact people would move here willingly, especially all that’s been in the news about their small town.

“I told you, big secret job,” she said, as if that was the only answer. “My dad’s answer to the problem was buying my mom a new kitchen set and me a car.”

“The BMW?”

“Hell yeah,” she snorted. “Though I suppose once I get to the city—any of them, I’ve decided—I’ll sell it. No need for a car if you’ve got decent public transit. I wonder how much I can get for it?”

“Probably less than what you’re thinking.”

“You’re probably right.”

The sun had finally set, leaving a hazy, sort of mystical hue over the rock and clearing.

“You could come with me, you know,” (Y/N) finally spoke up.

“Huh?”

“Get out of Hawkins? Lord knows I’d need a roommate. Rent is gonna be insane regardless.”

He pondered the thought. Moving out of this God-forsaken town with practically the girl of his dreams? It sounded too good to be true. “Huh.”

“You obviously don’t have to answer right now,” she said, nearly flustered. Was she flustered? “It was just a dumb thought…”

“It’s not dumb,” he said steadily, truthfully. “Not dumb at all.”

“What? You’re actually considering it?”

“Don’t ask me things if you’re not serious about them,” Steve joked, pointing at her. “I mean, it sounds pretty perfect. Leaving Hawkins, making a way for myself, trying to not rely on my parents… I dunno. Something to think about.”

She only nodded.

“Of course, I can’t leave yet,” Steve corrected, mostly to himself. “I have… unfinished business.”

“Ominous,” she snorted.

“A man has his secrets,” he smirked, turning to look at her. “Not murder-y secrets, I really can’t stress that one enough.”

“Handsome, funny and mysterious, the full package,” she hummed.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“I don’t want to stroke your ego,” (Y/N) said. “Surely you know you’re handsome.”

“I didn’t know you thought I was handsome.”

“I think everyone thinks you’re handsome,” her eyebrow raised. “Especially all those girls who come in to rent movies I know for a fact they have no interest in. Robin says you had a similar effect back at the ice cream place.”

“You’ve talked to Robin about my handsomeness?”

“I’ve talked to Robin about your obliviousness,” she corrected, “I think there’s a difference.”

He felt like his brain was melting. If he had a mirror, he’d check his ears to make sure no pink matter was dripping out. “But you think I’m handsome?” If the lighting hadn’t been as low as it was, he’d probably be able to see just how dark her cheeks had become.

“Irrelevant.”

He found the courage to scoot a little closer to her. “I mean, I think it’s pretty relevant… considering I think you’re pretty handsome too.”

Her head couldn’t have turned faster.

“Beautiful! I meant beautiful! Not that you can’t be handsome,” Steve felt himself choking on his own foot, falling deeper into a hole he knew he couldn’t get out of. “If you’d rather be called handsome, that’s fine by me, but traditionally, you’re stunning—so so pretty and I—”

“Steve—”

“A-and I’m messing this up,” Steve deflates. The crickets around Skull Rock must have been paid actors at this point. Steve made a mental note to bring a can of Raid the next time he came here—revenge of some sorts. “I can’t believe I’m messing this up.”

Something slightly wet touched his cheek.

“I don’t think you’re messing anything up,” (Y/N) said, pulling away from his face. She kissed his cheek. “I think you’re a little silly and overthinking a lot, though.”

“You kissed me?”

“I kissed your cheek, no need to short-circuit,” she smiled softly. “I figured it was a good way to bring you back down to Earth. Did it work?”

He nodded, a bit too fast for his liking. “Uh, yeah. I think so.”

“Good,” she said, so sure of herself. “You were really spiraling there for a moment.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I was.”

More crickets.

“Would you have kissed Robin on the cheek? If she was spiraling like that?”

“No,” she said honestly. “Just you.”

“Oh.”

“You took me to the make-out spot of Hawkins,” (Y/N) gestured to the rock above them. “Did you expect me to not kiss you?”

“You kissed my cheek,” he clarified, feeling bolder. “I don’t think that counts.”

“Hm,” she tapped her chin in faux-thought. “It probably doesn’t.”

“I could let you try again?”

“Oh you’d let me?” She crossed her arms, voice airy, light.

“Or I could kiss you,” he shrugged. “Dealers choice.”

“Oh what endless options I have,” she laughed, getting up from the blanket. It was only a little scratchy. “Come on, pretty boy, it’s getting late. My mom is probably worried sick I haven’t made it home yet. Probably waiting by the front window with some terrible dinner in the oven, I assume.”

She offered her hand, helping Steve up off the ground. “You’re probably right.”

“This was nice,” she said, walking back to the car. “Thanks for taking me out here, Steve. I finally found the one good thing in Hawkins.”

“Skull Rock is just that impressive, huh?” Steve laughed, his smile reaching his eyes.

“Something like that,” her smile was just as big.

BONUS: “Pop your trunk, I’ll put this nasty blanket away,” (Y/N) said, circling to the back of Steve’s car.

“It’s not that nasty,” he snorted, fulfilling her request. Climbing into his car and starting up the engine, he waited for her to throw the scrap of fabric in the back. In the corner of his eye, he could see her through the mirror, staring intently at the contents of his trunk. “How long does it take to put a blanket away?” He sighed, hopping back out of the car to join her, realizing quickly why she was just staring in his trunk.

“Y’know,” she clicked, “this doesn’t really help the whole ‘I’m not gonna murder you’ thing.”

In her hands was his tried and true baseball bat—still outfitted with spiky nails and the very essence of dried blood.

“I-I can explain—”

“You probably can,” she said, throwing the bat back into the trunk, slamming it shut. “How about over dinner sometime?”

He’d be stupid to say no.

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington x Reader #Steve Harrington x You #Stranger Things #Steve Harrington Imagines #okay fine twist my arm this is loosely based on the btr song of the same name #can't blame a girl for finding inspiration everywhere #does it have a plot? no #do I like pining and love-sick steve? yes

187 notes · View notes

avalynlestrange · 9 months

Text

Opposite

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Reader: she/her pronouns, no house mentioned but are friends with the Slytherin Squad and Hufflepuff Faction <3

youtube

Warnings: swearing, mentions of underage drinking, implied sex-no smut. It’s literally a sentence- (Please let me know if I missed any)

Category: Angst, One-Shot, Songfic, ex-boyfriend, on and off relationship, jealousy, no use of y/n

Summary: In which Mattheo has a new girlfriend and she looks nothing like you.

So y'all are in Hogsmeade now? Guess it's public. You recall what Annlynn looks like and note that she has a face like that other girl you're in love with. The one in that movie you both watched again and again since it was his favourite. You scoff. ‘You knew I would see that. You knew I would notice.’ You think to yourself.

Request: anon requested

Author’s Note: I hope this is to your liking <3

Word Count: <2k

To The Library (Main Masterlist) To The Kitchen (WIPs) To emails i can't send fwd: Anthology To more Mattheo Riddle fics

You are in the astronomy tower for your evening lesson, and you hear giggling next to you.

“Mattheo says I’m his type.”

Your ears prickle at the mention of his name.

Oh, so you do have a type? And it's not me.

You brush off the memory of the argument you had with Mattheo the previous year when he would rather drink a shot than tell everyone at the party what his type was. That action stung even to the present day. You remember him defending himself saying that everyone knew you were his girlfriend and that he didn’t need to describe you. It still would have been nice to hear.

“He’s been writing to me all summer.” The same voice spills more tea to her friends.

Oh, so you can reply? Just to not me.

All summer you had hoped that Mattheo would write to you taking back the harsh words exchanged in your heated break-up a few weeks before the holidays. You sent him a postcard from Paris saying you wished he was with you, but you never got a response. You didn’t think anything of it since it was just a postcard, and he never usually replies to them.

Ever since then, the closest you have ever had to talking was during potions where you asked him to pass the jar of bat wings.

That was a week ago.

You now hear the same group of voices ask about you, to which the girl responds, “He says he’s over her and wants something new. He’s so obsessed with my eyes.”

You can’t tell if she’s speaking loudly for your benefit, but you certainly know that she is aware of your vicinity now as Pansy swears at them and throws them the finger. You quickly grab your friend’s arm and gently move her away.

Despite your better judgement, you turn to look at the person speaking about your ex-boyfriend as you stride to the other side of the room.

‘If you wanted those colour eyes. I could have got contacts.’

“Ignore them. You deserve better anyways.” Pansy tries to reassure you. You nod in agreement, but you can’t shake the uneasiness you feel when you look at Mattheo and he’s looking at her.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

“Pass me the butter?” Daphne requests.

Your head feels faint and wobble the butter dish nearly dropping the lid, and the whole butter itself, into Pansy’s hot chocolate.

“That’s not the dairy I want in my cup.” Pansy jokes. She takes the dish off your hands and passes it over to Daphne.

“You look like a panda. Are you feeling alright?” Tracey asks, taking a bite out of her breakfast. She calls your name when you don’t reply.

Your eyes give the great hall a once over and notice that the person haunting your nights is not at his usual seat with his friends.

“He’s on a date in Hogsmeade.” Informed Susan. “I heard Annlynn brag about it last night in the common room.”

You saw Pansy glare at Susan.

“What? Ow! Why did you kick me?” Susan reaches down to rub her hurt shin.

So y'all are in Hogsmeade now? Guess it's public.

You recall what Annlynn looks like and note that she has a face like that other girl you're in love with. The one in that movie you both watched again and again since it was his favourite. You scoff. ‘You knew I would see that. You knew I would notice.’ You think to yourself.

“Guys it’s fine. His loss and besides she looks nothing like me.” You can't really tell, should you be tryna take it as a compliment? It's kinda feeling like the opposite. You see your friends look at each other and then at you.

“Yes girly! Let’s go shopping and show him what he’s missing!” Pansy hypes you up as she raises her teacup and you all clink.

“Hear hear!”

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

Browsing the racks in Galdrags Wizardwear, you have two outfits on hangers in your hands. You head over to the mirror stand by the shop’s main window frame and alternate putting the outfits in front of you. Your eyes look outside, and you catch them holding hands.

With the mirror in front of you, you couldn’t help comparing yourself and the girl he has in his arms.

‘She looks nothing like me. So why do you look so happy?’

Now you think you get the cause of it. He was holding out to find the opposite. From your hair to your eyes to your style. Even when you changed your hair because he said you looked better if you had it styled that way. It’s all the opposite of her.

And you know now, even if you tried to change that somehow, he’d end up with her anyway.

You snap out of your head when Megan scares you from behind. “You’d look cute in either.”

“Get both!” You hear Millicent from the other side of the room.

You smile and it fades when you lock eyes with Mattheo.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

He was with her longer than you thought they would be. It’s been weeks now. Gazing at the ceiling of your four-post bed, many questions swirl around your mind.

When you argue, does she say nothing so you feel good? When you’re at parties, does she step out of the spotlight so you bathe in it? When you’re alone, does she get up on top of you more than I would? When you capture her in your sketchbook, does she just love the picture 'cause you're painting it?

“Are you coming?” Your dorm mate calls to you.

It’s the first official match of the year. Slytherin vs Gryffindor. Although you protested not attending and insisted you’d rather stay inside your friends won even though it’s a rainy November.

You grab your umbrella and raincoat and tread your way to the quidditch pitch. The crowd in the stands were wild in anticipation. Susan beckons you to sit with them, and they’re all dressed devoid of house colours.

The students cheered for every goal scored and every goal saved. You scream and laugh to your heart's content. The feeling is freeing, and the autumn showers subside. Whizzing brooms and bludgers make you forget about the one boy on the team playing that still held your heart.

At least not until the whistle blows and Mattheo flies toward your stand. The beat of your heart pounds fast in your chest. Is he going to whisk you away like that the first time you broke up? Then your heart falls heavy and your lungs dispel all the hope in your body as you watch him take off with her.

Only it wasn’t Annlynn. But they do have the same features.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

It was a bad idea from the start. Studying with your shared friendship circle. But you had missed him. The only time you ever get to interact with him was in group settings.

He was seated beside you for two hours. You’d ask him what he wrote for certain questions, and he’d reply politely. Like he was talking to a stranger, not an old friend. But you take it. You take whatever communication you could get.

You ask once more for his answer to a defence against the dark arts question however, before he could reply, his chair is pulled back, and a girl sits on his lap.

You look away at the public display of affection they share. The nib of your quill ruined by the pressure you place on it.

“Get a room!” You hear Blaise chuckle.

You whip your head to see Mattheo standing, his arm wraps around her. “Let’s go Harper.”

“Get it boy!” Blaise winks at him. Mattheo shakes his head laughing.

They’ve all looked nothing like you. So why does he look so happy? He really must have been holding out to find the opposite.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

At the after-party for Slytherin’s win against Ravenclaw, all were present in the great hall. You fill up your cup with whatever fruit blend was in the punch bowl.

“Hey there! Care to Dance?” A quick glance at Mattheo and his date and you take the hand of one Anthony Goldstein.

You danced the night away and had nearly seven cups of the now alcoholic punch bowl, thank you Weasley twins. You tried everything to forget that Mattheo once again was with another girl who doesn’t resemble you.

Throughout the night your eyes darted to Mattheo and his new girl. The only time their lips were apart was when he would take a swig out of his cup. Every time you saw them, you took a gulp out of yours.

Now, you weren’t drunk per se, but you were feeling a little dizzy after twirling and swaying to the music. You see them walk out of the hall and you couldn’t take it anymore.

You decide to head outside for some air. You wipe a tear off your face with the back of your hand.

Whilst opening the courtyard door, you bump into someone. You catch yourself on to the biceps of the person.

“Oh my! You must work out!” The words come out as easily as you sipped the alcohol that caused the bravery.

“Careful darling wouldn’t want your date to think you’re hitting on me.” At the sound of Mattheo’s voice, you curse quietly. You take your heels off and walk away. Footsteps seem to be following you.

“How is Goldstein?” Mattheo asks, pronouncing the name slowly, a hard expression on his face.

You sit on one of the stone arch windows. The cold surface cools you down slightly.

“Oh, he is fine as hell!” You glare at him and with bitterness in your voice you ask, “How is clone number 4?”

You roll around a gobstone you find on the floor with your foot and kick it a bit too hard toward Mattheo.

“Her name is Maya. Why do you care anyway?” He kicks the stone back to you.

“I care but I don't!” Your volume is lower, your shoulders slouch, and your neck tilts downwards. “Just wondering when… all those times you… you said I'm beautiful. Was I being lied to?”

Looking up at him, you can’t tell if his expression is soft, or it is because your eyes are starting to water. When he says nothing, you carry on.

“She looks nothing like me. Can't really tell should I be tryna take it as a compliment? It's kinda feeling like the opposite.”

He takes a step forward and you hear him whisper your name. “You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known.”

You laugh scornfully. “Then why are you with her and not back with me?”

Mattheo runs his hands through his hair and holds them in his fists. “Because you were right!”

Your brows furrow. He continues, “Darling, I’m not good enough for you!”

“I have never said that!”

Flashbacks to your argument run through your mind. It might have slipped out. You can’t remember. It was all a blur. You don’t even recall the reason why you broke up this time. Whatever was said you were sure you never meant it. You never meant to hurt him like this.

“But it’s true! You deserve more than what I can give you. You deserve the world darling.” He takes another step towards you.

You look up and his eyes meet with yours.

“I don’t want the world. I want you.”

That’s all it took for his walls to crash down as his lips crashes yours.

#avalynlestrangewrites #oc by yasmineamaro #based on a sabrina carpenter song #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle fic #mattheo riddle fanfic #slytherin #slytherin squad #blaise zabini #daphne greengrass #emails i can't send fwd #emails i can't send #mattheoriddle #mattheo x you #hufflepuff

426 notes · View notes

emmyrosee · 1 year

Text

Osamu realizes he’s in love with you when you back his car into… something.

Years later, he can’t even begin to remember what you hit- the trash? Mailbox? Maybe the curb? Honestly it could’ve been a kid, he genuinely doesn’t know. Whatever it was, it caused a deep gash into the rear passenger side and popped the tire, the crunch of metal standing no chance against whatever was in your way.

And he could never be too mad at you. Never. This was no exception, it was just a car and a simple thing that he could fix himself, or pay someone to, but before he can convince you of this, his jaw slacks and his face pales slightly when you let out a bark, an absolute shock of a word so freely past your pretty lips:

“GOD-FUCKING-DAMNIT!”

It slipped out with zero hesitation, at the time, no shame either, and you just looked so mad about something he honestly couldn’t care less about, so long as you were okay. But clearly, you cared, and the moment you realized what your said?

God you looked so cute.

Your face got a sheen of sweat, your hand immediately coming up to cover your mouth, and with the most wide eyes, you whipped your head over to look at him. Your eyes lock with his, and he just. He starts cackling. He’s laughing at your poor, precious expense, and you’re whining in his now damaged car for him to stop, head thunking against the steering wheel in embarrassment.

And he realizes, once you finally are able to park the car and get out to swat at his chest, that he wants to be there for everything.

Every ‘god damn it,’ every scratch on the car that you may or may not cause every time you say something in front of him that you shouldn’t, he wants to be a part of the memory you now harbor. Every time you burn dinner, or you two get lost driving and at least are holding hands, everything.

You’re everything to him. And he realizes it for the first time when you back his brand new car into…. Whatever you backed into.

1K notes · View notes

thoughtfulsweetsharmony · 2 years

Text

You Are The Reason- F. Hargreeves

*WARNING: TUA S3 spoilers ahead*

Requested: No

Summary: Five found you in the apocalypse. At first, he thought you might just be a mirage, he's sanity having already snapped (even if he was just mere hours into it.) As the years passed, you found it incredibly easy to fall in love with Five and him with you. Five years into the apocalypse, and you get married. Now, back in the year 2019, with you and Five back in your 18 year old bodies, you decide to tie the knot properly.

Warning: fluff.

Song: You are the Reason by Calum Scott and Leona Lewis.

You fiddled with the fabric that was elegantly draped over your figure. Your stomach fluttered with nerves as the elevator in Hotel Obsidian slowly moved to the lower floor. After Luther and Sloane's wedding, both you and Five had gotten so drunk, you almost didn't believe him when he proposed that you get married again for real. So, imagine your surprise when he announced the ceremony to his family this morning, instantly jumping to the reception right afterwards to make sure they could have everything set up once more.

Your finger felt bare without the ring that had graced it for the past forty years, exactly to the day. You sighed to yourself, clenching your hand into a fist as you gratefully thanked Five in your head for refusing any sort of pre-wedding celebrations. As the elevator sank lower, your stomach fluttered more anxiously.

Getting married five years into the apocalypse meant that the only sort of wedding you two had, was saying your vows to one another in the ruins of an old church. After you joined the commission? Well, the handler done everything in her power to keep you and Five separated on missions, her little crush on him obvious.

You shook your head to rid yourself of the negative thoughts as the elevator dinged open, spreading it's doors wide to reveal the decorated reception once more. It was empty, the thrum of noise coming from the ball room assured you that everyone was there, waiting on your arrival. Allison was waiting for you outside. You had asked her to be your maid of honour, seeing as she always accepted you from day one.

She smiled at you as she approached, silently lending you her support as she grabbed your hand, entwining your fingers. You stood still for a second, feeling queasy, before taking a deep breath and walking to the ballroom, the doors thrown open to reveal the beautifully decorated room. Although everything else seemed to fade from your sight as your eyes locked on your gorgeous husband at the end of the aisle. His jaw had dropped open slightly as he gazed at you, causing a subtle blush to coat your cheeks.

Viktor stood at the middle of the altar, ready to officiate the wedding, while Klaus stood beside Five, his hands clasped dramatically over his mouth as he squealed slightly, jumping up and down on the spot as he noticed you. But none of the mattered as you gazed at Five.

___________________5_______________________

The ceremony passed in a blur, your only clear recollection being Five's beautiful green eyes, softened with adoration, as they stayed locked on you throughout and his lips pressing to yours in a burning kiss as you were pronounced married. The ring sat snuggly on your finger once more, back where it belonged. The meal passed in an even quicker blur, a mix of sounds, colors and flavours, and then it was time for the first dance.

You had picked the song, having heard it on one of your missions to 2018, and you had always associated Five with it. As the soft music began to play, he grabbed you by the waist, your hands entwining as your free hand rested on his shoulder.

There goes my heart beating....

Your heads leaned towards one another, his gaze on you soft as you danced, the world around you disappearing as you held him closer, resting your head on his suited chest.

And you are the reason,

That I'm still breathing,

I'm hopeless now.

There goes my hands shaking,

And you are the reason,

That I'm still breathing,

I need you now.

I'll climb ever mountain,

Swim every ocean.

Just to be with you,

And fix what I've broken.

Oh, cause I need you to see,

That you are the reason.

He dropped his lips to yours, this kiss just as intense as the first one you had shared all those many years ago. He pulled back, resting his forehead on yours as you continued to dance to the song.

" I love you." You whispered, feeling it would be wrong to talk loudly in such an intimate atmosphere.

"I love you too. You're my world, my reason." He mumbled back.

And you pressed your lips back to his.

#Spotify #five hargreeves #five hargreaves x reader #five x you #five #five imagine #five x reader #tua five #five Hargreaves #tua imagine #tua fandom #tua s3 #imagine #five Hargreeves imagine #wedding #song based imagine #songfic

25 notes · View notes

countlessimagines · 8 months

Text

Romantic Homicide [PART ONE][ Miguel O’Hara x Reader ]

Summary: You slowly slip from Miguel’s hands, and it’s too late for him to realize.

A/N: Wanted to desperately make something angsty for Miguel and this song was the perfect choice!

Warnings: None that I can think of.

PART TWO HERE

SONG BASED FIC: ROMANTIC HOMICIDE BY D4VD

I'm scared

Miguel O’Hara was not the man you knew anymore. When he first arrived to your dimension, he found love with you, but he never would have admitted it if asked about it. He found a sense of peace and clarity just being with you and having you to hold. You were one of the first recruits that he brought on.

You were the shining star to Miguel’s dark world. He had never intended to get close to someone, after seeing how many spider men lost their true loves. He didn’t want to experience that pain, he felt foolish and naive for falling for you. He loved the way you both would swing next to each other, almost like a choreographed dance.

He was a very passionate person, but there was also the side of him that was cold and distant. At first, that side never came to light. It was amazing recruiting others and taking on the fight together.

Everything had been good… until it was not. Miguel had been messing with another dimension without you knowing, and it was one where he found out that you and him had a child that was orphaned. He thought he could manage being with you and going to the dimension to be with your daughter.

He had been so happy spending time with your daughter who was oblivious to losing both her parents. And he wanted to introduce you to your daughter, but feared you might see it as insane and wrong.

So he kept it a secret for the time being. But Miguel could not handle both dimensions - both lives, and eventually it caught up with him.

He lost your daughter and never told you anything about the double life he led behind your back.

It feels like you don't care

You had felt the change in Miguel. Instead of the open minded, excited-to-save-the-multiverse Miguel, you got the cold and distant lover.

He never intended to hurt you, but he never considered your emotions and what the toll of having to fight so many villains falling out of their dimensions can take on you. You were his accomplice, the person he could count on for everything and would drop anything to help out.

You were strong, but seeing the person who would kiss you so deeply it would make you feel as if nothing else mattered… seeing him slowly become irritable as if the weight of the multiverse was not on both of your shoulders.

Enlighten me, my dear

Why am I still here?

You began to grow frustrated when Miguel refused to join you for a simple meal and got angry at you for trying to make him leave his computers. He stopped showing signs of love and genuine affection to you. The days of sleeping in and messing with Miguel’s bed head, making out upside down on the ceiling, saving universes together were long gone.

At a certain point, you would only stay at the spider complex, helping out new recruits while Miguel would opt to take Jessica instead of you on missions.

You would bite your tongue and resume your duties as to not poke the bear.

I don't mean to be complacent with the decisions you made

But why?

Peter B. Parker was your favorite spider-man simply because he would always bring your favorite food made by Mary Jane and let you hold Mayday. He was your best friend, and the only person who would probably understand the pain Miguel was putting you through.

You had confessed to him the feelings you had bottled up, and he was confused as to where it all came from as Miguel never wanted your intimate relationship known to everyone else in fear of you being hurt.

It pained you to know Miguel wanted to keep you a secret, like you were some villainous person that could easily be taken back to their dimension in an instant. Like you were replaceable… and the thought nagged at you… had Miguel found another you?

Peter expressed that Miguel never even mentioned having a loved one, that he wanted no form of attachment after watching his daughter die in his hands.

You had not even known about his daughter, so the mere thought of him purposefully keeping this a secret made you feel worse. A daughter? Why did he never trust me to know about his daughter? Why did he never feel comfortable telling me?

You began to even question why you still stayed, if it was worth the stress and mental drain to be near Miguel - knowing he was keeping not only you a secret, but possibly more.

Mm. In the back of my mind, You died

And I didn't even cry. No, not a single tear

You watched as the man you loved slowly descended into madness, an obsession to be precise and catch anything and everything that was wrong. It began to feel like he never even slept anymore. He was a shell of a person, day in and day out. Staring at monitors, asking Lyla for help, and then leaving for some type of mission.

It was a horrible cycle that repeated in front of you.

Every time you tried to talk to him about how he was doing or what you could do to help, he brushed you aside and barely even looked at you.

It made you feel sick to your stomach, but you would always turn away, tears ready to fall. You were trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he kept you a secret for a reason… maybe, just maybe there was some type of reason he was acting this way with you.

But eventually you had cried enough over the man who no longer seemed to be the one who would call you his love, and the tears stopped.

And I'm sick of waiting patiently for someone that won't even arrive

You held our hope one last time, you invited Miguel to a dinner in your dimension. You set up your dining room with candles, delicious food, drinks, and a present containing the one single photo you had of the two of you.

But he never showed up. Lyla had sent a message to you telling you he got wrapped up in a mission and couldn’t make it. She seemed apologetic as she delivered the news, and she could tell you wanted to be alone.

You only said “okay” to her before ending the call, standing up, and dumping the present in the trash bin. You left your dining room and collapsed on your cold, unmade bed from when you had last left to be with Miguel.

In the back of my mind

I killed you

The next day, you heard absolutely nothing from everyone. Radio silence. You wondered if Miguel even knew if you were gone.

You stared at your watch that could take you to other universes, take you to Miguel. It was taunting you… a watch to see him but at a certain point, what cost did it come with?

You spent so much time going back and forth for him to not care at all. He was keeping your love hidden away in a room, for no one else to see. And at a certain point, he had forgotten about the room.

Finally, you had enough and no longer wished to have any type of temptation to go running back to him. There was no reason to go back.

You grabbed your hammer and began to repeatedly smash the watch into a million little pieces. Watching it crumble and break in front of you, made all the built up tears come back like a dam breaking open.

You screamed as tears poured, your heart breaking even more and feeling as if it could no longer take the hits.

And I didn't even even regret it

I can't believe I said it

You felt relieved to see the watch gone, to see the life with Miguel start to slip away, in the past.

But a part of you broke with the watch. The time spent with him felt wasted. You neglected your dimension for him and your duties as a spider-woman.

You felt angry that Miguel came into your life in the first place. That he was able to steal your heart and time and everything that made you happy was because of him.

You hated that he made you feel the way he did.

But it's true

I hate you

Months went on, no one dared to contact you in fear of Miguel finding out. He had been angry when he found out you had left, but he knew deep inside of himself that he was the reason why.

He forbid anyone to speak to you, though, because he feared you would make light of your relationship and how he let you slip away. He feared everyone would look at him as a weak, lonely, harsh leader. When he needed to remain steadfast.

You had returned to your normal way of life, learning to love yourself and help out those in need. While it was tame compared to multidimensional travel, it felt better for your soul.

However, one day after having such a long night trying to take down men who put targets on your back, you were wiping dirt and blood off your mask. In the corner of your eye, you could see a portal start to form in your living room. You were quick to put on your mask, readying yourself for it to be anyone.

But to your surprise, the most surprising person stepped through the large portal.

Hobie Brown.

Read part two here.

303 notes · View notes

barzysunflower · 11 months

Text

you’re losing me — mat barzal

ok so I definitely impulse wrote this after listening to the song one too many times! (still listening to it, still sobbing about it) definitely check it out although it may be a bit hard to find haha taylor pls just release it

spoiler: this is a HEA bc I am incapable of writing/reading sad endings. my life sucks enough, my fictional world doesn’t need to either lol so not all aspects of the song are used/it’s not exactly the same as the song, it’s just inspired by it

word count: 3.9k warning: angsty, with hea

"I need a break."

"From what?"

"Us."

—————————

When you started dating your boyfriend Mat seven years ago you thought you were going to get married. Even with his busy schedule he was the most attentive, caring, and loving boyfriend you could have ever dreamed of. When he moved to New York, of course you were extremely happy for him. Playing in the NHL had been his dream since he was a kid, so you were very supportive, but you couldn't help but feel heartbroken over him moving across the country and leaving you. But ever since the day he landed in the city, he begged you to come live with him and eventually he convinced you. You transferred university to one in New York, lived in the dorms for a couple of years until Mat and you got an apartment together. You finished your undergraduate degree, then started and finished your masters. Mat had always been just as supportive of you as you of him. He made living away from your family easy. He made living easy. Date nights in all shapes and forms, luxurious vacations, and just him making you happy with all of his little quirks. Your relationship was something straight out of a movie. It was perfect. Until it wasn't.

You don't know when things began to change in your relationship, nothing really caused it, but one day you started feeling unhappy. Mat changed. Or maybe you did. But you weren't the same two people you once were. When you came home from work, you got a 'hello' and a kiss but the passion behind his eyes were gone. He barely asked you about your day anymore or told you about his. Just enough before you fell back into silence. You didn't used to mind the silence. Sitting comfortably in silence was a sign you truly felt at peace with a person, but when the silence got uncomfortable for you, you knew something was wrong. The amount of times you two went out alone decreased to the point where you could count on one hand the amount of dates you had been on in the past two months.

He just stopped making an effort and any effort you put into the relationship was rejected or gone unnoticed. Like making him dinner or doing his laundry and him not at least thanking you for it.

His love language was most definitely touch, but even that had slipped away day after day. He kissed you in the mornings, at night, and when either of you got home, but the spontaneous make out sessions or random quickies throughout the day were basically nonexistent anymore. You had sex after his games or when he got home from a roadie, but somehow that had started to feel like an effort.

You missed the old Mat that always had some part of his body touching yours. At dinner, sitting next to each other, he usually intertwined his pinky with yours, only breaking to use his knife. Or he always held your hand or had an arms wrapped around you when you were out of the house, like he was afraid to lose you. That stopped and now you were the one afraid that you had lost him.

You had just gotten too comfortable with each other. You knew each other so well you could anticipate what the other would say or feel that you didn't need to tell each other anymore. You still wanted to that, you were still interested in what he had to say, in hearing his voice, but after countless efforts being rejected, it was easier to say nothing.

The worst part was that you couldn't even blame his schedule and just wait for the season to end. It hadn't changed. You had made it work that past few years before, even with you being busy with school, so why now? You were starting to question your self worth, because what else could it be?

The last few months had been hell for you, silently and lonely suffering. Because every time you brought up the subject of your relationship, he said everything was fine and that we'd just hit a little rut that would resolve itself.

You wanted to believe him so badly. You wanted to believe that everything would be okay. You didn't want to throw the last seven years away. You had worked so hard to be here. You had experienced so much together, made so many memories. Was it really worth throwing it all away?

But you were sick of waiting for it to stop. Sick of your efforts being lost. Sick of Mat not seeming to care. You hit your breaking point.

And that's how you found yourself on the verge of tears standing in front of Mat in your kitchen in which you had made so many beautiful memories. "I just can't sit around waiting for you do something anymore. I gave you so many chances for you to do something, say something, risk something for me, but you did nothing. You're losing me, Mat, you don't even seem to care."

He blinked. A blank expression on his face. Just like the last few months. Some part of you wasn't surprised, the other ripped your heart into shreds.

"I just– I need a break."

"From what?," he finally asked, already knowing the answer.

"From us." A tiny, very tiny, weight lifted off you when you said it out loud. You had been wanted to say it for months and although you weren't happy about the situation, you were proud of yourself that you did. "I'm going back to Seattle for a few months. I just need space from you right now."

"When? For how long?" That's probably the most he'd asked about you in a while.

"I haven't booked a flight yet, but probably tomorrow." He nodded, pressing his lips together. "At least until the end of your season. Until you have some free time to figure out if you still love me or not." You lips were shaking, tears threatening to flow freely. You didn't want to say it, but a part of you felt bitter.

"(Y/n)–"

"No!," you stopped him. You couldn't hear it. "If you tell me you love me right now I'll stay. And this wasn't an easy decision but a necessary one. I'm weak for you, Mat. I'd do anything for you, but I don't feel that from you. So, please, just stop. I made up my mind. This has to happen. Maybe in a few months we can work it out, but right now I need space."

He gave you another nod then turned around and left. You heard him rustling around in your bedroom and a few minutes later your front door slammed shut. He was gone. A part of you was angry at him for not putting up a fight, but then again you had asked him not to. But just once, you wanted him not to listen to you and tell and show you how he felt. You guessed you had your answer.

The next few months were rough for you. A different kind than the few months before, but still difficult. You missed Mat terribly. Countless of times you came close to booking a flight back home to New York and burying your face in his chest. But it wasn't your turn this time. He had to fight for you.

But you missed him nonetheless. You had almost called him when Anthony got traded just a couple weeks after you left, but you didn't. Then again when not shortly after he got hurt in a game against Boston. You wanted, but you didn't. Not until he did. But he never did.

It took a while, but you started to be able to breath again. You got a small job at a café, since you took a leave of absence from your big girl job in New York and still needed some money. You made some new friends, most of your old ones having moved away or gotten too out of touch with, and developed a new daily routine. You started feeling better, but the whole inside you was reserved for only Mat to fix and would probably take years to mend if he didn't make a move soon.

Weeks, then months went by and not a single word from Mat. You couldn't even see him on TV for his games (which you still watched) since he was injured and his social media was a bust too. Your friends and his teammates (also your friends) checked in every once in a while, asking how you were and telling you how miserable Mat was. But unless you saw that for yourself, you couldn't really believe it.

Then, by some miracle the Islanders made it to the playoffs and Mat was scheduled to be back to playing. You tuned in, but almost had to turn it back off when you saw his face. His beautiful face that you loved to kiss and touch and simply just look at. Now though, it was riddled with frown marks, dark under eye circles and his unshaven scruff that took you years to like. He fought more on the ice, too. He rarely took penalties for righting but during these next few games he collected them like trophies. He was short and snippy in his post game interviews, again, something usually unlike him. He was miserable, you could tell. But then why had he not made an effort to get you back? Had you pushed him too far away when you left him? Was that the wrong thing to do?

You fought with yourself day and night. You wanted to go back to him and fight for him, but then you remembered that you did. You did fight for him countless of times. In your head you used to screamed at him to do something, say something, risk something, but he never did. So stayed put, waiting for his season to end and see what he would do.

A couple weeks later, your parents were out for dinner, you were home watching a movie with a big glass of wine when the doorbell rang. You didn't feel like answering, but who rang the doorbell after six pm? Your ex boyfriend who just showed up without a warning from across the country did. Or current boyfriend?

He stood there, outside your door with his grown out hair, unshaven beard, and sad look on his face. You started at him, processing. He was here.

"Mat? What–"

"No! It's my turn to talk now! (Y/n), you left. You just fucking left me without a warning." When you opened your mouth to protest, he held up his hand silencing you. "I know, I probably should have seen it coming, but you left! That hurt like hell."

He rubbed his face with his hands, also combing through his hairs before he went on. "I don't know what happened. I swear. I felt something change, yeah, but I just got comfortable. I didn't fall out of love with you. Never. And I'm sorry. I just assumed you felt the same and I shouldn't have. I should have checked in more. I'm sorry for taking for granted what I had. You. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I totally understand if you're done with me, because no one should take you for granted. (Y/n), I love you and the way you care for people, for me. You light up any room you walk in, you make everyone smile, you're– god, you're so so beautiful."

He took a deep breath, fighting his tears. You had given up holding them back pretty much the second you opened the door. "What I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry. I've been such a jerk and I realize that and take full responsibility. These past few months have been hell for me without you there. Our apartment feels so cold without you. But it gave me some time to think about everything I fucked up and everything I will do better if you're willing to take me back. Please take me back, (y/n), I don't know how to live without you." He shook his head and tears away, collecting himself. "No, wait. I came here to apologize and give you time to decide whether you'll forgive me. The 'I want you back' speech will come later. If you'll hear it."

You were speechless. All these months, even before you left, that's what you had been hoping and begging for to hear. Why couldn't you speak? Or move?

Moments passed with the two of you just staring at each other. Mat hesitated to say more, but he couldn't read your face. Did you want to hear more or slap him in the face and tell him to leave? "Alright, uhm, I'm gonna go. Don't really know where, but I'm sure there's a hotel open around here." He got ahold of the suitcase next to him. "Uhm. I guess, text me? Or call? Whenever you're ready."

He waited a few more seconds for you to move, but when you didn't he slowly turned around and walked out of your driveway. Seeing his back turned, him walking away from you again when he had just come back made you snap out of it. "Maty!"

You sobbed running up to him and into his arms that had opened for you the second you yelled his name. You buried your face in the crook of his shoulder, inhaling his scent while you clung to him. He held onto you just as desperately. His hand I'm your hair at the back of your head, the other around your waist holding you tight to his body. You felt like home again after months and months of searching for it. You heart expanded and pounded swiftly for him and him alone.

"Fuck, baby, I missed you so much." He had let you down, but now both of his hands held your cheeks as he looked at you. He dropped his forehead against yours. "I'm so sorry."

You weren't ready to forgive him just yet, but you were so ready for him to kiss you. "Kiss me." And boy, did he. His mouth attacked yours with that intoxicating passion you had missed so much. Your tongues danced their dance without a hitch as he claimed you as his again.

You must have stood out there for minutes before breaking apart and coming up for air. You pulled him into the house, you had given your neighbors enough of a show. You settled on the couch, but put a pillow in between the two of you so you could talk things out before you did something you'd regret. That didn't stop him though from reaching his hand out to you. First, he took your hand then let it wander up to your face. "Come back home with me," he whispered. His sad green eyes were begging, too, a look that was very hard to resist.

"I want to," you whispered back, your voice starting to shake with emotion again. "But I can't just go back like nothing happened. Mat, those few months were extremely painful for me, I can't just ignore that. I'm so happy you realized it now, but I need to see some action. Your words, as happy as I am to hear them, aren't going to fix it alone."

He nodded, then dropped his forehead against yours. "I'm sorry. I'll fix this. I promise."

"We'll fix this. I don't want to throw us away, I want to work on this, but we need to do it slowly."

He nodded again and brushed his lips against your nose. "I have to go back to New York tomorrow. I have a few meetings and exit interviews and stuff, but after that I can come back here or you come back and I'll live with Wally or something for a while so we can work on this."

You nodded and threw the pillow separating you to the floor. You'll hash out the details later, but right now you just needed his big, warm hug. You sat like this for hours, not saying much, just enjoying each others company after you had been away from each other for so long.

The next day, he really did leave to go back to New York but he came back just a few days later. He stayed at a hotel, which did feel weird, but it was for the best. You needed to trust him again and doing it slowly would result in the best outcome. You spent a few hours together every day, catching up and talking about your plans to rebuild your relationship. At the end of the day, he'd bring you home and kiss you for a few minutes, then leave. Every time you wanted to run after him and go with him, but you could already feel the hole in your heart fixing itself, so you didn't and just trusted the process.

The day you told him you were ready to come back to New York was one you'd never forget. He spun you around in the middle of the park you had decided to have lunch at and kissed you like nobody was watching. It felt good, like the beginning again.

You celebrated his birthday a few days later and the day after he left to go visit his family in Vancouver for a few days while you tied up some loose ends here in Seattle. You'd meet back in New York in your apartment.

After an exhausting cross country flight, you were surprised Mat had sent an Uber to pick you from the airport instead of picking you up himself. But when you finally walked through your apartment door and the lights were off except for a few lamps and candles that you had carefully collected over the last few years, you knew why.

Mat, dressed nicely, stood in the middle of your living room surrounded by flowers and lit candles. Little Polaroids and pictures of the two of you were laying across the floor and furniture as well. You approached him slowly, taking his outstretched hand until you stood directly in front of him. His other hand slid into his pants pocket and pulled out a small red velvet box.

"I promise I'm not doing this out of desperation to get you back. I've had this ring since last year. I've been thinking about doing this for a long time. I've just been waiting for the right moment. I didn't want to propose during the season because I wanted to celebrate and do it right. And I had planned on taking you to Africa or the Maldives or somewhere more fun than our apartment but, you know... And I can't wait any longer." He smiled, then chuckled. "But, I'll still take you wherever you want to go."

"Maldives sound good." Why that was the only thing you were answering to you weren't sure, but with a chuckle he kept going.

"Good. And that probably also means you're not going to say no to my next question, but I'll ask anyway." He lowered down in front you onto one knee with his hand still holding onto your left. "(Y/n), for the past seven years, there is not one second that I haven't loved you. I know I haven't always shown that, but I promise you that won't happen again. You are the most important thing in the world to me and I promise there won't be another day where you will question that ever again. There's no one else I want to spend the rest of my life with. It's you, babe, it's always been you. Will you marry me?"

You dropped down to your knees and grabbed his face to kiss him. "Yes," you repeated over and over again between kisses that tasted salty due to the tears running down your face. He got emotional, too, when he finally slid the ring on your finger. It was exactly the one you wanted and had dreamed of getting your entire life. It was perfect and so was he.

And he did keep his promise. Now and every single day there after.

*******

a few years later

"... the end."

"Again!"

"No, it's bed time now, honey."

"No! No sleep! One more book." Your three year old son jumped from your lap and dove towards the bookshelf to pick out another book to read. You checked your phone to see if your husband would be home any minute and in fact he would be, so you agreed to one more book.

"There you guys are." The door opened and Mat walked in with a big smile on his face.

"Daddy!" Your son, again, jumped from your lap into his fathers arms.

"Hi, buddy. I missed you." They hugged dramatically while your son told him all about his morning. Mat eventually put him down and took the couple steps need to get to you.

"Hi, princess. I missed you, too." He picked up your almost one year old daughter, who was also sitting in your lap, and hugged and kissed just as dramatically as he did with your son. Her sleepy eyes lit up with excitement and she filled the room with adorable baby giggles.

"What about me?," you pouted as you stood up.

"You have no idea." His arm wrapped around your shoulder and his lips gently touched yours, but with two children demanding your attention, the kiss was kept short.

You all hung out in the room for a bit, catching up on what Mat had missed while he was away for the last few days on his hockey road trip. Then you put your kids to bed, although putting an exited toddler to bed was no easy task, but eventually he did fall asleep.

"Hi," Mat whispered after you finally closed your sons bedroom door. You turned to face him and his messy hair made you smile. He aged like fine wine and you were thankful every day that he was yours.

"Hey." His hands took ahold of you and slowly pushed you against the hallway wall.

"I missed you," he whispered against your lips before claiming them. His hands roamed your body to find all the places to squeeze and touch while shoving his tongue in your mouth for an amazing kiss. How he went from fun goofy dad to horny teenage in a matter of seconds, you didn't understand, but you also didn't mind.

"Mat, not now. It's the middle of the afternoon," you said between kisses when you could tell this was going to be more than just a make out session.

"So?" He sucked on and kissed your neck. Yeah, what was the problem?

"So? They're both asleep. Hurry up and take me to bed." He didn't need to be told twice and a second later you were up in his arms and enjoying some much needed adult time.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal fic #nhl fics #nhl imagine #mathew barzal #new york islanders #hockey fics #taylor swift #fics based on songs

627 notes · View notes

thatonebrazilian · 11 months

Text

Tolerate it

Summary: Everyone assumed you were fine, but what would they do if you just... broke free?

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader; undertones of Carol Danvers x Reader; Platonic Clint Barton x Reader; mentions of platonic Wanda Maximoff x Reader.

Word count: Around 6K

TW: Deep angst, assassination attempt, betrayal of trust, suicidal thoughts, dealing with grief, self sacrifices.

A/N: I've been in the mood for angst, apparently. And I actually wasn't planning on writing anything (I shouldn't have, I was short for time as it was), but I was listening to Taytay and the fic just came to me. This will probably hurt a lot. Just hurt, not much comfort. Let there be pain.

You didn't know what you did wrong. You didn't know how you could fix this. You didn't know if it even could be fixed.

All you did, all you could do, was just sit there and watch her. She was reading, her head low, almost as if she was trying to keep a barrier between you two.

You sat in the corner of the room, watching her as she immersed herself in reports. The soft glow of the lamp cast a delicate halo around her, illuminating her beautiful, beautiful features. And yet, on that night, as on many before, the light seemed unable to reach her eyes.

You knew she was struggling, you were too. Everyone was. The Blip had taken many from their families, and the toll it took on those who stayed made many more lose their loved ones. The remaining Avengers lost Clint to his own darkness, and you lost the love of your life to what you could only describe as self-isolation.

Natasha had always had an unhealthy work-life balance, yet you always managed to counter that… But not anymore.

You had been together for what felt like an eternity, intertwined in a love that once knew no bounds. Now, though, there was a growing chasm separating the two of you. Natasha would only engage in conversations that revolved around missions and saving the world, and none of those came from you.

You used to be an Avenger too, with powers so astronomical that you never learned to control them. Bruce and Tony had to create some sort of inhibitor for you, lest you destroy the world by mistake.

You were probably one of the most powerful beings out there, but having no control whatsoever of your powers would only bring destruction, so you learned to live without them, the bracelet Tony made never leaving your wrist.

Being a somewhat powerless avenger was hard, but it was worth it. You saved people, you helped your friends.

But since the Blip things have changed.

After watching Wanda, one of your best friends, disappear right in front of your eyes; after seeing Clint's descent into darkness, you didn't feel like fighting anymore. So you decided to stop, you stopped so you could take care of yourself, take care of Natasha.

They were small, the things you did for her, but meaningful nonetheless. You'd wait by the door every day to greet her like a god-damned war hero, to show her some love and comfort after a hard day at work; you'd make her favorite dishes, lay the table with your best cutlery; you even took upon painting as it seemed to ease your mind, and you'd use your best colors for her portraits (and there were many)... And yet, all Natasha gave back were lukewarm smiles; hums, and nods in acknowledgment of your attempts at conversation, and a lackluster "thanks".

She seemed to simply… Tolerate it.

You woke up in the wee hours of the morning, the sun hadn't risen yet, and the moonlight shone through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Your gaze fell upon Natasha, who lay beside you sleeping lightly. The rise and fall of her chest matched the rhythm of her breathing, a calming sight that used to bring you comfort.

But then, as you watched her, you noticed a subtle alteration in her breathing patterns, something that would go unnoticed by anyone else. The steady rhythm became irregular, interrupted by moments of slightly shallower breaths and the briefest of pauses. There was a tension in her muscles that hadn't been there a second ago, almost as if a silent battle was being waged beneath her immaculate skin.

Natasha's eyes remained closed, her face serene as if she was lost in the most peaceful of dreams. But you knew the truth. She was pretending to be asleep. It felt like she didn't want to wake up beside you, like she simply tolerated your presence, but now even that tolerance seemed to be waning.

You wanted to reach out, to offer her solace, to take all the pain away, but the invisible barrier between you seemed impossible to break through. The distance that had grown between you now felt like a vast expanse, impossible to bridge. Her closed eyes spoke volumes, a silent plea for space, for time, for avoidance.

Your heart ached with the weight of unspoken words, your eyes burned with the sting of unshed tears. You missed Clint, he'd know how to deal with this, he'd help her, but he'd help you, too. He'd hug you and tell you that everything was gonna be ok, he'd make sure it'd turn out that way. You missed Wanda, she'd take you out to eat ice cream, watch silly sitcoms with you, tell you the stupidest jokes just to see you crack a smile, she'd even threaten Natasha if she imagined the other redhead was hurting you in any way, shape or form.

You missed your life, your old life, before the Blip.

You turned away from her, not wanting her to see the tears in your eyes in case she opened hers.

As it turns out, the first time Natasha had a semblance of a real conversation with you in… You don't even know how many weeks… Was to ask you to join a team to take down whatever new evil had shown up.

You didn't even think twice about it, you took the job, you'd do anything to get closer to her again.

The team consisted of you, Steve, and Carol, who was visiting Earth. You didn't even know where you were headed or who you were facing, you just wanted to come back with an excuse to actually talk to your fianceé.

As you prepared to get into the jet, you saw her there, giving off directions before everyone boarded. You wrestled with conflicting emotions, torn between respecting Natasha's need for distance and the overwhelming desire to break through the walls she had erected.

You felt a hand on your shoulder then, too warm to be Nat's, and you immediately felt the comfort she radiated.

Carol wasn't the most sentimental person, she wouldn't tell you that everything would be fine, she wouldn't offer comforting words, but she'd be there, a warm unwavering presence amidst the chaos (even if you rarely saw each other in person). She was the one good thing that the Blip brought you.

"Don't think too much about it," the blonde said, already knowing what was on your mind. "Keep your head in the game, I don't want you getting hurt out there, ok?"

You nodded while managing to keep to yourself the strong urge to hug her, to seek comfort in that friendly and familiar warmth of hers.

She nodded back, turned and boarded the jet, having already reviewed with Natasha her role in the mission.

You looked at your fianceé only to find her eyes already on you. You didn't think too much into it, though, she was probably just reviewing in her head the role you'd have for this mission.

Once again you found yourself wanting to go to her, but the fear of rejection loomed over you, a haunting presence that whispered of the potential pain that awaited if you ventured too close.

You turned away and stepped in the jet.

You stumbled into the Avengers' compound, a dull ache radiating from your wounded shoulder, the bloodstained clothes doing nothing to give you comfort.

The mission had taken an unexpected turn, and both you and Steve got shot. Multiple times.

As soon as you stepped through the quinjet's door Natasha was there, the worry in her eyes making you question if you were hallucinating. She walked to you, her eyes never leaving yours, it was almost as if you could feel her again, the old Natasha, your Natasha.

"What the fuck happened? You weren't supposed to get hurt!" she exclaimed in a mix of anger, desperation and concern. She ran her hands through her unkempt hair. It was an uncommon sight, indeed, to see her so disheveled.

You knew she had been worried, the moment Steve reported back you could hear her pacing back and forth through the comms, you just didn't know it would affect her this much. You didn't think she cared anymore.

Almost as if sensing your thoughts, Natasha took a hesitant step closer and reached for your hands. "You got me really worried." She said, her eyes looking deep into yours, her hands soothingly cold to the touch.

You could see she wanted to say something else, but almost as if she was waging a silent war against herself, she shook her head, released your hands and sighed. "Go to the med bay. I'll meet you there."

You nodded weakly, too tired from blood loss to argue. Too tired in general.

As you made your way to the medical facilities, the pain in your shoulder intensifying with each step, you couldn't help but think of all the times Clint saved your ass from stupid bullet wounds like these, or how Wanda would literally create a shield around you whenever you faced danger.

You missed them, you missed Wanda so much, and you couldn't help but wish it was you and not her. And Clint, god, you hated what he became, you hated the Ronin, you hated that he wasn't there to heal by your side, to heal with Natasha, but you still missed him so much.

As you entered the med bay, you were greeted by a warmth that made you question how she could have gotten there first.

"Bold move, jumping in front of a sea of bullets like that" Carol said, there was no warmth in her voice though. You closed your eyes.

"I couldn't let them shoot that child," you said, sitting on a cot and looking apologetically at her.

Carol gritted her teeth, her eyes scanning your wounded shoulder, the part of you that got the most hits, with a mix of worry and anger written across her face.

"So you just deemed your life less valuable than hers and decided to throw it away?" She clenched her fists.

"That's not it and you know it," you said in a small voice. It was worse, but no, she didn't know it. She didn't need to. You didn't want to burden her too.

Carol's eyes softened, she took a couple steps towards you and touched your uninjured shoulder. "I just worry about you, sweet girl." She said and sighed, "Look, I know you don't have much to live for right now, but you're one of my best friends, I wouldn't be able to deal with it if something ever happened to you. And by the looks of it neither would Natasha, despite all the shit she's been pulling."

It was amazing how Carol, just like Wanda before her, was able to fill you with lightness. With them, as well as with Clint, you felt cherished, cared for. You could never be more thankful for the blonde in front of you. Without Clint and Wanda here to support your near Natasha-less life, Carol was the one thing keeping you sane.

You just wished being sane was enough.

You managed a weak smile, though, and even if felt forced, it still seemed to have convinced Carol that you were ok. "I'll be fine, Carebear. Just a flesh wound. I know I haven't been in the field for a while, but it's nothing I can't handle."

Carol fought off a smirk. "Promise me you won't pull shit like that again, at least".

You saluted her, a mocking smile on your face, despite the ache you felt inside. "Aye, aye, Captain!"

She chuckled and shook her head, "You're the worst".

"But you love it!" Your answering smile was more genuine this time.

Her smile grew bigger, and you wished you could see it in person more often.

"I actually do." She said, shaking her head once more and turning away to leave the med bay.

It didn't take long for a nurse to come to tend to you. There were many bullet wounds around your body, although most were superficial. The worst was indeed your shoulder, having been hit four times.

You bitterly wondered how you could still be alive with all of these bullet holes around your body.

The minutes passed by, and yet there was no sign of Natasha, so after all your wounds have been treated and dressed you decided to go look for the redhead.

It was a bad idea. As you located her, your heart sank. There she was, tending to Steve's wounds, her focus solely on him. Even though there was nothing romantic about the situation, the sight of them together stirred a mix of emotions within you. Jealousy, longing, confusion. Betrayal. You wondered if there was something more between Natasha and Steve, a connection that surpassed friendship. You wondered why she would deem him deserving of having his wounds treated personally by her while you were sent to a nameless nurse.

Your mind raced, struggling with the whirlwind of emotions that engulfed you. Doubts crept in, and you questioned the very nature of your relationship with Natasha. Did she even love you still? Has she ever? Where was that woman who threw blankets over your barbed wire, leaving you just soft enough for all your other friends to approach? Why has she left you behind in her pursuit to build this new world instead of taking you along with her? The uncertainty gnawed at you, intensifying the ache in your shoulder. You made her your temple, your mural, your sky, but now you were left begging for footnotes in the story of her life.

As you stood there, watching her tend to his injuries, a deep sense of loneliness washed over you. The weight of the lack of acknowledgment you've been getting from her grew heavier, casting a shadow over the bond you once shared. The pain in your shoulder felt insignificant compared to the ache in your soul.

At that moment, you realized you couldn't take it anymore. You loved Natasha, you would probably love her till the end of your days, but you knew your love should be celebrated, and yet all she did was tolerate it.

You never thought about what she would do if you broke free, leaving the two of you in ruins. But that's what you did, you took the chains that bound you to Natasha and broke them.

You still longed for her, though, the neverending love you held for the woman felt like a dagger piercing your heart, a constant reminder of what you craved for, of what you once had. You wanted to remove it, to see it clatter to the ground as you bled out.

It was weird to gain the weight of her then lose it, but you needed to do it, you had to.

You were doing it for her as much as for yourself. Natasha had lost so, so much, but there was one person who could still come back, so you went to look for him, more in hopes of helping her than fulfilling your own desire of seeing him again.

Even if she didn't love you (which was the impression you got when you told her you'd be gone, looking for Clint, only to get a blank stare in response), you still loved her, you still wanted her to be as happy as she could, and you knew Clint was the person to make that happen, he was her best friend as much as he was yours.

You needed to help her heal somehow.

"She's been a mess since you left," Carol had said once during a video call, the vast expansion of the universe now looming right behind her, "don't ever tell her I said that, though." The grimace on her face told you she wasn't kidding.

"Steve's been trying to help more, even I am; I've been to earth since you left more times than I've been throughout my whole life. I'm afraid that if I stay gone too long, she won't be there when I come back… Since you left she barely takes care of herself. The place's a mess, she hasn't been eating much, and, again, don't ever tell her I said this, but I thought I'd never see her cry, and yet…"

You wondered if it had been all in your head, the way she seemed to avoid you, the way she seemed to take you for granted, the way she seemed to merely tolerate you.

In the midst of a turbulent storm of emotions, a newfound sense of urgency propelled your every step. You needed to find Clint, you needed to find him so you could go back to her, to see if she was really deteriorating that much, to ask her if it was all in your head, if you got it wrong somehow, if she actually loved you.

Time seemed to both crawl and fly, leaving you with moments of self-reflection in the solitude of your journey. Doubts and insecurities waged war within you, tearing at the fabric of your clarity. What if you discovered that Natasha's love had been genuine, but she had struggled to express it? What if she was simply too freshly traumatized to express it, and you had abandoned her at her worst moment?

You needed to go back to her, even if it was just to figure it out. But you wouldn't go back without Clint, you couldn't.

So you searched, and searched, and searched. And as you finally stood before Clint, his weathered face bearing the marks of his own battles, you found yourself engulfed in a deep ache. Two of the people you loved the most were immersed in pain, and you could do nothing to help.

"I can't believe you traveled so far, came all the way here for this," Clint spat, his voice filled with anger, his eyes filled with tears. "To ask me to come back so I can help her. Do you even worry about me? Did you ever stop to think that I lost my family? My wife's gone, Y/N! I lost my kids! Do you really think that I'm not dealing with my own shit right now?"

You shook your head, tears welled up in your eyes too, matching the anguish in your voice. "Fuck you, Clint! I'm not here just for her and you know that! You're my best friend, goddamnit, and you've been gone for years! I know you're hurting, but you gotta know that what you're doing is wrong, and it's not gonna bring Laura and the kids back." You shook your head, remembering the way the kids would all call you auntie Y/N/N. You sighed and shook your head in disappointment. "They would actually be ashamed of what you became."

You knew it was a low blow, but it was the truth, and he needed to hear it

The moment he seemed to register those words, Clint's eyes became full of this sort of anger that you've never seen your friend display. But again, this wasn't Hawkeye, this was Ronin.

Clint advanced upon you with rage in his eyes, his hand went to your throat, a dagger suddenly pressing against your ribs.

"Take that back." He said through gritted teeth, and you felt your eyes filling with tears once again.

Of course he wasn't above hurting you like this. He, too, didn't care about your own pain.

You were tired, you were so fucking tired.

"Do it." You said, your voice devoid of emotions, the hollowness you now felt was all it conveyed. "It's not gonna make any difference if I'm gone, anyway."

You'd be just another death on his account, just a wisp of a memory in Natasha's mind.

Clint's brows furrowed, but his grip was unrelenting. You took your hands to his, the one holding the dagger, and pulled it up, so it wasn't resting above your ribs anymore, but right at your heart.

"Please," you said with a wavering voice, looking him deep in the eyes, trying to appeal no more to your friend, but to Ronin, "do it. Please."

The dagger clattered to the ground, Clint took a step away, looking at his hand as if it had personally offended him. He then looked at you, but you didn't meet his eyes, you were too absorbed looking at the dagger on the ground, feeling the brisk sense of freedom evading you as it finally stopped moving.

You then felt his arms around you, your head suddenly tucked into his neck.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice sounding desperate "I'm so sorry, Y/N, I'm so sorry," he kept repeating, and repeating, and repeating.

You shook your head, your own desperation making you cling to him "Why didn't you do it? Why couldn't you just kill me?!"

His arms tightened around you as you both fell to your knees.

"I'm sorry," he just repeated, "I'm sorry I took this path, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry I wasn't a good friend."

You wished that he being sorry was enough.

When you came back, there was a talk about fucking time travel. The Ant-guy was back, and so was Tony, Thor, and even Bruce. Everything seemed to be falling into place, so why did you still feel so…. broken?

But, somehow, as you and Clint stepped foot inside the Avengers compound, the familiar surroundings embraced you like a long-lost home. The tension that has seemed to permeate your very bones during the journey began to ease, replaced by a cautious hope for what awaited you.

You knew things wouldn’t instantly fix themselves up; Natasha wouldn’t just come to you and apologize for all she’s done (no, that wasn’t like her at all); your heart wouldn’t suddenly be mended, even if she did; your mind wouldn't let you forget the pain, the deep ache the past five years inflicted upon you.

And yet, there was hope.

There was the possibility of bringing Wanda back, of having Carol around more often, of doing something good for humanity. Of making Natasha happy again.

The moment the doors opened you saw her. She was talking to the Ant-guy and to Bruce, her brows furrowed as she nodded along.

And then she turned her head and caught sight of you, and of who was by your side. Her eyes widened in disbelief when she saw Clint standing there, and a glimmer of something flickered within them, something akin to hope, but also akin to sorrow. Without a second thought, she started walking in your direction, coming faster and faster until she was running.

When Natasha reached Clint, she threw her arms around him, pulling him into a long-awaited embrace. Tears pooled in her eyes, slowly streaming down her cheeks as she closed them.

There was a little lightness in your heart as you saw them hug, some sort of knowing that she'd be ok even if you weren't around anymore. She wouldn't starve herself, she wouldn't push everyone away, she wouldn't shut down. She'd survive, and then she'd move on.

In that moment, as Natasha clung to Clint, her teary eyes slowly opened. There, through the blur of her emotions, she looked right at you. And the gratitude that radiated from her gaze was palpable, as if a thousand unspoken words were contained within that single look.

Her hold on Clint loosened slightly as her eyes locked onto yours, lingering for a brief, intense moment. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time as the weight of her gaze met yours. It felt as if the universe held its very breath, waiting for the next chapter to unfold.

You wished you could say you could feel her love through that gaze, but you didn't know if you could use that word to describe what Natasha felt for you. Maybe she regretted what she did; maybe you became her anchor, even if unbeknownst to you, and she felt like she needed you to function; maybe she felt like she owed you something for bringing Clint back. You didn't know what it was, but you couldn't shake the feeling that the word love would be the wrong one to describe her feelings for you. Gratitude, thankfulness, maybe, but not love.

You smiled a sad smile, and nodded your head in acknowledgment to the gratitude in her eyes.

Natasha furrowed her brows and pulled away from Clint as she saw you walking away from her, but before she could come after you, Clint caught her hand and walked towards the opposite direction. He wanted a conversation in private.

You just knew he was going to tear her a new one for what she did to you. During your journey back he had apologized more times than you could count, his words still engraved in your mind.

"I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust," he had vowed, his voice filled with determination. "I'll prove to you day after day that I care, that I value our friendship above all else. What happened the other day… it'll never happen again, I promise you that. I was too absorbed in my own pain, so much so that I hurt you, but I would never do that intentionally, Y/N. You're like a sister to me, I'd never willingly hurt you. I love you too much for that."

Maybe his love was real, but you didn't have it in yourself to just forgive and forget.

Maybe one day the gods would deem you worthy of love. True love, not the kind that hurts you.

"A soul for a soul" the Redskull said, turning the vast expense of cosmic beauty before you into something bleak, final. "You must sacrifice that which you love."

Your eyes wandered, drinking in the breathtaking scenery, the towering cliffs and cascading waterfalls; it seemed like a paradise carved from dreams.

But the words hanging in the air casted a somber shadow over the planet's beauty, and as you stood near its vibrant precipice, the weight of what had to be done pressed upon the three of you.

Destiny had brought you here, demanding a sacrifice.

It was a curse and a blessing all at once.

"If we don't get that stone, billions of people stay dead," Natasha stated, her voice tinged with determination, almost as if she was trying to keep herself strong.

Of course she'd want to be sacrificed, the selfless fool that she was.

Clint's gaze met hers, his eyes filled with a mixture of conflict and resignation. "Then I guess we both know who it's got to be," he replied, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. They didn't spare a single glance your way, it was almost as if they had mutually decided that you were to live.

A subtle sadness washed over Natasha's features as she nodded in agreement. "I guess we do."

You closed your eyes. You had been wanting this for so long, you had craved the peace I'd bring, you had fantasized about it, about closing your eyes and never opening them again.

And yet… you found yourself wanting to cling to life with an unwavering grip.

As Clint and Natasha looked at each other, you found yourself wanting to greet Laura, Lila, Coop and Nate when they came back, you found yourself wanting to have a nice day out with Yelena. You found yourself wanting to embrace Wanda and never let her go.

It hurt to know you wouldn't be able to do any of that.

"I'm starting to think we mean different people here, Natasha." Clint said then, his voice wavering slightly.

For a moment, Natasha's gaze lingered on Clint, her eyes reflecting the depth of her conviction. "For the last five years, I've been trying to do one thing: get to right here," she confessed. "That's all it's been about. Bringing everybody back."

She looked at you then, her eyes brimming with tears "I was so focused on it that I drove away the one person I had promised myself never to hurt.",

You couldn't look her in the eye, you couldn't let her see your decision through your gaze.

Clint's shoulders seemed to sag, you could see the self-blame he felt right through his eyes, even if they were focused on Nat. "And that's why it gotta be me. You spent all this time trying to help what was left of the world. Me… you know what I've done. You know what I've become." He shook his head, his eyes turning to you as well "If you haven't gotten to me, I'd still be killing an untold number of people without a care for who it'd hurt."

"Well," you said, shrugging, trying to lighten the mood a little "I don't judge people on their worst mistakes." There was no point in holding grudges anymore.

"Neither do I." Natasha said, looking at him. Her eyes turned to you then, full of sadness, longing , and regret. "I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

You walked towards her and pulled her in by the hand, your forehead resting against hers.

"I love you, Nat. You've been forgiven since day one." You said.

Natasha's tears streamed down her cheeks as she buried her face in the crook of your neck.

You saw from the corner of your eye Clint taking a step back, as if to go to the cliff. You extended your hand to him as well. He stopped in his tracks and took a couple steps in your direction, taking your hand in his.

He smiled a sad smile, his eyes red. "Tell my family I love them" he said, and tried to pull his hand away, but you gripped it with all the strength you had.

"Tell them yourself," Natasha said, pulling away from you as well.

You sighed, your eyes burning with unshed tears. You didn't want to die anymore. You wanted to live.

But you couldn't let them sacrifice themselves.

You ripped the bracelet Tony made from your wrist. It clattered on the ground. Natasha and Clint's eyes widened, almost as if they hadn't even thought of the possibility of you being the one to jump.

You felt an unbearable heat rising up from inside out, your lungs burned, your chest, your torso, your whole body.

"Y/N what the hell are you doing?!?" Natasha yelled out, trying to get to the bracelet on the floor, but the burning winds that seemed to suddenly emanate from you wouldn't let her get closer.

"Take care of each other. And of Wanda and Carol. That 's all I ask." You said, your voice no longer solely yours.

You saw a rising shadow on the ground, signaling the presence of wings on your back. Blood red wings engulfed in flames. The Phoenix's wings.

Clint was rooted to the ground, your power vicious enough to paralyze those of weaker minds.

Natasha, though? She was fighting to get to you, the winds clearly burning her skin, yet she didn't give up. You turned away from her, not wanting to see her struggle.

It was a short walk to the edge of the cliff, you didn't want to look back. If you said goodbye it'd make it feel more real. So you just jumped.

And then you felt her hand on your wrist, the searing heat making her skin burn, and yet, she didn't let go.

"No, please. Not you." She cried, and even with tear stained cheeks she was the most beautiful woman you've ever seen "I can't lose you like this. The world can't lose you. You're the only one of us that really deserves to live life to its full potential."

And then, as if her touch made your power purr in her presence, Clint broke free, running to where you were dangling and taking your other wrist in his hands.

This was hurting them, both physically and mentally, you saw the skin on their hands blistering, you saw the redness in their arms, the tears in their eyes not just from the pain.

"Let me go," you said with a sad smile. They had their families, they had their jobs, their missions; their homes.

You had nothing, all you did was take up too much space or time. They deserved to live, even if you left them in ruins.

"It's not gonna work!" Natasha shouted in desperation, her expression one of pure anguish "I don't love you! It's not gonna work!"

You smiled sadly at her. She really didn't love you, did she? She just tolerated you.

"It 's ok, Natty. It'll work. You may not love me, but Clint does " you said, smiling at her through your own tears.

"Y/N, please, don't do this," Clint begged too, sobbing as he held onto you with all his strength.

"It's ok," you repeated, and if it was to calm them or yourself , you didn't know, "it's gonna be ok".

You used whatever little control you had over your powers to push them away. As your body tumbled to the ground the last thing you remembered was the way Natasha used to laugh at your jokes, enjoy your food, take you out on dates. The last thing you remembered was how she used to love your presence, and not just tolerate it.

Maybe one day someone would be enough to have their love celebrated by her.

When Natasha and Clint woke up not much later in a galaxy colored lake, she clutched the stone that had appeared in her hands, wishing with all her might that it turned out different, that the last words she said to you weren't "I don't love you."

She loved you. Always did. Always would.

Wanda sat in front of your gravestone, her hair disheveled, her eyes red shot, her cheeks tear stained. She hugged her knees as she sobbed, longing for the presence of who could no longer be by her side. She had lost her parents, then Pietro, Vision, and now you.

She sobbed more and more, the pitiful sound getting louder.

She felt a hand on her shoulder then, and she looked up to see red shot brown eyes.

Carol sat beside her, taking her hand and squeezing it a little.

She understood what Wanda was going through, she was grieving you as well, and even though Wanda and Vision were planning on starting a life together, the witch suspected the Captain wouldn't have said no if you'd asked the same thing from her. So she, too, lost her love, even if she never got the courage to confess it.

It was a hot day, the sunlight shone perpendicular through the clearing where your grave has been put, creating a magical scenery all around the place.

And yes, the day was hot, but was it supposed to be this hot?

Wanda shook her head, her brows starting to sweat.

And then the sunlight vanished, as if something gigantic was blocking its path. She and Carol looked up, but all they could see were the trees blocking the sky from view.

The animalistic cry they heard didn't come from the trees, though.

Neither did the blood red feather falling through the leaves, its tip engulfed in fire.

Wanda and Carol looked at each other, and for the first time in weeks, they smiled.

Natasha Romanoff Taglist: @strangegardentaco, @madamevirgo, @Lovelyy-moonlight, @agent99galanzo, @red1culous

714 notes · View notes

luck-of-the-drawings · 17 days

Text

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

#jrwi fanart #jrwi show #jrwi riptide #gillion tidestrider #GONNA START FORMATTING MY COMICS BETTER. W THE PROPER 'PREV' 'NEXT' LINKS #REALLY DIDNT EXPECT TO CONTINUE THIS SERIES BUT AAAUUUHH MY BRRAAAIN MY BRAIN IS SO IDEASSS. I HAVE 3 OTHER PAGES SKETCHED OUT #NO PROMISES ILL FINISH EM ANY TIME SOON OR EVER. MY WHIMS ARE THEIR OWN BEAST AND I ONLY DRAW ON MY WHIMS #THAT BEING SAID IF U COMMISSIONED ME ILL GEEETT TO YOUUU IM SORRYYYY. ART IS AN EMOTIONAL RELEASE FOR ME N BABY I HAVE EMOTIONS.#ESPECIALLY ABOUT GILLION TIDESTRIDER CHAMPION OF THE UNDERSEA HERO OF THE DEEP.for the desc here i put smth that i typed up in the tags of #another thing i made. i gotta make a proper Baby Gillion tag or smth. eventually.. eventually...I LOVE DRAWIN THIS LIL BABY GUY..#i also LOVE depicting the teachers as just being so fuckin mean. ofc theres variation in that. just like in all things.like the teacher her #idk if itll be mentioned but the octo lady is named Ms Octburn.an octopus pun based off the name of an actual councilor i had #when i was in elementary school i got bullied alot but teachers never did anything. i hated adults and didnt trust them.#but this councilor o mine was so genuinely sweet. i remember spending alot of time w her. she doesnt work there anymore.#but that one school adult that actually earns ur trust and is there for you when they can be.its SO important for a child i think #i hope she knows how much she helped me.youll see in the next page that ms octburn isnt perfect either.but she tries. they all try.somehow.#ALL these comics are gonna be inspired by somesorta experience o mine in the school system. school is so fucked up u ever thing abt that #AND GILLIOOOOONNN IN THE MOST FUCKED UP LITTLE SCHOOL OF ALL. MAINTAINED BY A CULT. CENTERED AROUND HIM. OUR CHOSEN ONE #I IMAGINE ALOT BANKS ON HIS SUCCESS. THIS IS THE WORLD. THE WHOLE WORLD. THE PROPHECY IS GOING TO COME TRUE N UR TELLIN ME #THAT ITS THIS LITTLE IDIOT THATS GONNA BE SAVING US? WHAT IF HE FAILS. IF HE CANT GET THIS RIGHT THEN HE WILL FAIL AND WE WILL DIE #WE NEED TO TRAIN HIM. WE NEED HIM TO LEARN. AND TO SUCCEED. OR ELSE WE'RE DEAD. WE'RE ALL FUCKING DEAD. I IMAGINE THAT MUST BE STRESSFUL #in other news i hope ppl actually giggle when they read these. they ARE intended to be comical. dark humor or whatever. like its also sad #this is intended to be a sad comic series. but a funny one too. does that make sense? god i hope so.saw some1 say they had flashbacks-#-reading this. like YES!! THE INTENDED EFFECT!! YOU GET ME!! i love seeing ppl get upset on this lil baby boys behalf. i LOVE seeing ppl-#-wail n weep n cry in the comments. i LOOOVE seeing ppl RELATE to baby gillion. and i love letting u all know that this wont be a happycomi #gillion gets his happiness arc in the actual show. this series is one of unfortunate events. teehehehe. do u guys remember that show #i keep listening to the lil songs from A Series of Unfortunate Events for inspiration. GOOD STUFF!!#anyway uuhh uhh thats all i got in my brain. for now. feed me ur comments give me ur input i NNEEEEEDD THHEEEMMMM

111 notes · View notes

littlexscarletxwitch · 5 months

Text

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝗶𝘁, 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗲

paring: yelena belova x fem!reader

tag(s): smut with plot but not really, a bit of angst but then again not really, nsfw, wlw sex

warning(s): MDNI, +18 ONLY read at your own risk, explicit wlw smut, wlw sex, oral sex, kinda toxic relationship, mentions of drinking alcohol, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 3k

note: I'M SO SORRY GUYS IT SOOOO LOOOONG. College had been kicking my ass. Agh! I need a break from that shit. Anyways... I was actually going to make the smut part longer but I kinda didn't want to ruin it, so this is what you get lol. Also I literally googled the russian pet names, so please correct me if they are wrong. I hope you all like it! Lots of love, M <3

note 2: I got so many requests and I'm so glad you guys asked me to write your ideas, I really appreciate that. It's going to take me so time but I WILL WRITE THEM and I'm so excited about them. Love the way you guys think lol <3

requests are open! + check my rules here + masterlist <3

⇨ Detka: baby - Moya lyubov: my love - Malishka: little girl - Krasotka: gorgeous

You knew this whole thing was wrong, it was a toxic never ending cycle, but still you could never help yourself when it came to her.

You and Yelena were together for three years, three years filled with love and lust and happiness; but then your relationship became hateful, bitter and full of anger, still the lust between the two of you remained the same.

Allegedly, the two of you had broken up 5 months ago. Allegedly, you resented her for the shit she put you through. Allegedly, you didn’t even want to see her face.

Nevertheless, she always found her way back to you, —back to your bed—. The moment her lips made contact with yours, you knew you had lost all sense of reason. How could you restrain yourself when her hips grazed against yours in a slowly almost painful yet divine pace that had you arching your back and curling your toes?

“Fuck,” you breathed out, as her hands thighten the frim grip on your waist.

You always promised yourself it would be the last time, that it was just your body reacting to hers, that you would be strong the next time and would turn her down. It took you a couple more slips to finally understand that you and Yelena were done, that the two of you were through. But you finally came to your senses.

“You do know this is the last time, right?” you said breathless, feeling your quick heartbeat in your eardrums.

You sword to yourself that would be the last time you let yourself give in to her. Just one more night of pleasure, just one more night of kisses and whimperings and moans, and the next day it would be over.

“Yeah, I know,” though her voice was muffled by your cunt you could still make out the sarcastic tone in her voice.

“I mean it, Yel,” you tried to sound serious, and apparently you did because she lifted up her head for her eyes to find yours.

“I know you do,” and she did know. She knew that you meant it, at that specific moment.

But she also knew your statement wouldn’t last long, that you would soon change your mind and her lips would find their way back to your neck, hips, thighs and cunt.

So she allowed you to think it was over, but it will be over once she decided so.

[...]

It’d been a year since you had last seen her, you thought that was it, that the two of you had moved on at last. But maybe you got it all wrong, maybe all the things she made you feel enhanced by being away from her, maybe you forced yourself to forget about her. But there was no point in trying it, for she had made a mark on your heart. Like a tattoo, always under skin even when it gets removed.

But tonight was supposed to be different, you were supposed to have fun, drink and dance with your girl friends. But for some odd reason you couldn't stop thinking about the blonde. You would mess around with some people, but you found yourself thinking that it wasn’t her hands roaming around your body, or her lips leaving kisses and bites all over your neck, it wasn't her scent and it most certainly wasn’t her hoarse voice reaching your ears.

As you and your friends made your way to the bar, you heard your phone ringing. Even before you took a look at the screen you were 100% sure that it was her calling you, who else could it be then?

Your heart picked up its pace as you looked at the ID caller and your suspicions were confirmed. It was at that moment that you realised that you had never blocked or deleted her contact number.

Before you could answer or decline the call, it stopped. You swallowed down the lump that hard formed on your throat, unsure of what would be next. And soon after it stopped you got a text from her, you were about to read it when you noticed that someone was calling out for you.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” you said, quickly putting away your phone, trying to focus on your friend’s words over the loud music.

“We have to use the restroom. Let’s go,” she said, reaching out for your hand, motioning for you to tag along.

“No,” you step back, away from her reach. “I, um,” you felt your phone burning your hand. “I’m going to get some air, okay?” you noticed she wanted to say something against it, so you quickly added: “I’ll be right back, I promise,” you smiled at them, before making your way out of the club before they would follow after you.

Once the cold air of the night filled your lungs you felt like you could finally breathe properly. You looked at her missed call and her text message on your phone screen, it was simple: an address. You knew what that meant, but you weren’t sure of what you should do. As if sensing your doubt, she called you again. The phone kept on ringing in your hand, as you made up your mind.

Seeing her tonight was a bad idea, right? Yes, you might not be really drunk but the alcohol was messing with your brain and you were not thinking straight. Plus, your friends were going to kill you for meeting her.

Seeing her tonight was a bad idea, right? You weren’t just going to throw away the last year and pretend like nothing had happened.

Seeing her would be a bad idea, right? But your mind had other plans as the memories of her soft lips and her rough hands and her raspy voice all came rushing to your brain, and suddenly it was all you could think of.

Seeing her tonight…? Fuck it, it’s fine, was your only thought as you picked up the call.

“Hello, detka.”

The old pet name sent a silver up your spine, still you were yet to form a coherent thought.

“I missed you,” she paused, waiting for you to say something. “Did you miss me?” she tried again. Still, you weren’t answering her, but she knew you were listening carefully to every word. “You know? I’m all alone right now. I wouldn’t mind some company.”

You could sense the undertone she was using, you were no fool to her tactics, even though you would always fall for them. That was the kind of power Yelena had over you, everytime you would do so much as think about her your brain would just shut down and you wouldn’t be able to hear your own thoughts.

“No,” you stated firmly. Shaking your head even though she could not see you.

“Oh, baby. What’s the matter? You want me to pick you up?” you could hear the jiggling of some set of keys. Your heart stopped for a second, was she really that desperate to come and pick you up? You felt your stomach burning.

“This is… This is not right, Yelena. I shouldn't have picked up the call. I should probably not—.”

“Oh, come on, moya lyubov,” again with the russian nickname that would make your knees weak. “How about this, I pick you up, we get some coffee and we just have a quick chitchat?”

You knew that it never was so simple with Yelena, but you felt your walls crashing down.

“I’m not sure, Yel…” it felt weird to pronounce that nickname after so long.

“Look up, pretty girl.”

You felt your stomach sink as you did as you were told. And there she was, in all her glory. You didn’t even question how she knew exactly where you were, Yelena just knew stuff. You knew she was your ex, but she said it was just a quick chat, can’t two people reconnect? You knew you were stronger now to her advances, you were pretty sure you only saw her as a friend. But, in all honesty, you knew you were full of shit.

Without a word, you sent a text to your friends, put your phone in your purse and got into the car, wrecking all your plans. You knew you should just stop, but you couldn't. You cursed yourself for that, she knew you too well and you hated both yourself and Yelena for that.

As soon as you took the passengers sit, Yelena sped up the car and the two of you left the building and your friends behind.

“I did miss you, Y/n,” was the first thing she said as she rested her hand on your thigh.

She knew how much you loved it when she did that.

“Mmm,” you muttered, unsure of what your answer should be.

“Didn’t you miss me?” she jokingly asked as she gently squeezed your skin.

“What do you want, Yel?”

“I thought I told you,” she quickly took a look at you before looking back at the road. “I just want to chat, that’s all.”

“It’s never that simple with you.”

“Well, maybe this time it is. Maybe this time I want things to be different,” she smiled at you, making your heart skip a beat. She still had that kind of power over you and you hated her even more for that. But not really.

You gently shook your head. It was bad, you shouldn’t have picked up the call, you shouldn't have gotten into the car. You should have thought things more clearly before letting her into your life again.

As you were mentally cursing yourself you didn’t realise that the two of you had already made it to whatever place she had driven the two of you. Realisation hit you as you now had now idea where the fuck you were, you had no other choice but to follow her. Or so you told yourself.

Yelena opened the car door for you and stretched her hand out for you to take. Which you did, you didn’t even fight it, you longed for the contact of her skin against yours. And maybe, just maybe, you thought it would be enough, just by intertwining your fingers in between hers. But, god, you were wrong.

You knew the moment you would step through her front door all sense of reason would leave your mind, and it would only remain the lust and feel of belonging you always felt around her. And you were right, the soon you stepped in, it was like you were that same person a year ago and you had no intention in fighting your feelings, not anymore. You thought maybe you deserve it, as a reward for being all this time apart from each other.

As soon as you entered it was as if you could feel Yelena everywhere. It wasn’t just the fact that she was there next to you with her hand in between yours, but you could all also smell her scent all over her place, you could see her in the furniture she had chosen, hear her in the music that was playing, and even though you had yet to taste her lips you were so overwhelmed by her entire being that it felt as if you already had.

“So, um,” she cleared her throat as she closed the door behind the two of you, getting your attention. “Would you like some coffee…?”

“Fuck it, it’s fine,” you mumbled to yourself once more before dropping your purse and shortening the distance and crashing your lips against hers.

Yelena’s hand quickly found their way to your hips, gently squeezing your flesh earning a low groan out of you. She pulled away gasping for air but the next second her lips were back on yours. You moaned into her lips as her tongue easily slipped into your mouth and found yours to mess around with.

You felt a warm feeling in your stomach as her hands roamed all over your body leaving goosebumps on their way. Then they rested on your ass, grabbing the muscle motioning for you to jump on top of her, which you did without a second thought. The feeling became a small fire in your stomach the moment your chest was pressed against hers.

“I knew you would come back,” she mumbled in between your lips, feeling her grin into the kiss.

As a response you bit her bottom lip, not really sure what you meant by that but it felt good when you heard a low moan escape from her lips.

“Don’t push your luck,” you said once you let go of it, earning a small chuckle from her.

“Yeah, you’re right, krasotka,” her thick russian was only fuel to the growing fire in your stomach.

Her lips found the crook of your neck and she left as many bites and kisses as she pleased, leading the two of you to her bedroom. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your fingers found their way in between her hair.

Once in her bedroom, Yelena gently laid you on her bed. As her lips made their way down to your collarbone, her hand tugged at the hem of your dress slowly and painfully bringing it up to your waist.

On command, you spread your leg open letting Yelena’s head take the place in between your thighs. She kissed and bit them, her lips ghosted over the area where you needed her the most, but all you got was her hot breath which sent a shiver up your spine and made you groan out her name.

“Stop with the teasing,” you begged her, as your legs rested on her shoulders.

“Tell me what you need,” she breathed out.

“I need you… I need your lips on me,” it almost came out as a moan.

And she did as she was told, but it wasn’t quite what you wanted. Her lips kissed and licked your core, but it wasn’t enough since the area was still being covered by your panties. You wanted more, needed more.

“Yelena, please…” you begged her once again.

“Shh…” she cooed as her fingers tugged at the hem of your underwear and slowly pushed it out of the way. “Is this where you need my lips, malishka,” her hot breath over your now uncovered cunt ripped a moan out of your mouth.

“Yes, yes, just please do something. Please, Yel, I—,” a whimper cut you off as you felt her tongue licked up your slit. “Fuck,” you could feel your heartbeat going a mile per hour.

Her tongue went up and down a few times, tasting your juices, loving who wet you were for her. She then made sure to give your clit as much attention, so she wrapped her lips around it and sucked hard. You felt your leg trembling on her shoulders as she worked her magic on you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you were a moaning mess, the fire in your stomach felt like it was taking over your entire body and you only wanted to give in, to let it consume you whole —to let Yelena consume you whole—.

You wrapped your legs around her head, bringing her even closer to you. The thought of her suffocating on your count scared you for half a second, but then as she ate you like a starving woman, the thought only added more to your arousal.

Yelena took a quick look at you: eyes closed, lips slightly trembling and parted, brows furrowed, your leg around her head, your hand flying to meet her hair. She wanted that moment to last forever, she wanted to be forever buried in between your legs if it only meant she could see you like this. But she could not stop time and live forever in that moment, so she could only moan at your sight. And that was what it took for you to finally come undone in her lips.

You cried out her name as your leg almost squeezed her head too harshly, but she could take it. A few curses followed her name as her tongue and lips helped you right out your high.

“I missed this, malishka,” she said breathlessly as you unwrapped your legs around her.

Her nose, lips and chin were glistening from your release, you felt something like a match lighting up inside you once again. Much to your dismay she used the back of her hand to clean some of it, which she noticed that it had bothered you since you slightly frown. She chuckled at just how cute and precious you were.

She crawled on top of you, placing her knee in between your legs and her lips found yours. You moaned as you tasted yourself on her lips and tongue, feeling the fire coming back to life.

“I missed you… so much,” she said in between kisses. “Tell me… you missed me too…”

Drunk on her scent, lips and words you couldn’t think properly. But still the words you blurted out were the truth: “I did… I missed you too…”

“Then we should… make up for… the time we lost…'' she said as her hand expertly tugged down the cleavage of your dress, she smiled to herself as she realised you weren’t wearing a bra.

She trailed a path of kiss from your neck, down to your collarbone to finally end with her lips sucking your right nipple.

“Yeah, we should…” you breathed out.

“Then, we are going to be here for a while,” she said, her words were muffled by your tit inside her mouth.

You giggled at her words but then it turned into a moan as she went on sucking.

You knew the whole thing would fire back eventually, but your head was empty, blank, no reasonable thoughts. Just one that it keep you going and that was the only thought you were willing to listen to: ‘Fuck it, it’s fine.’

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

#yelena belova #yelena belova x fem reader #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x y/n #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova smut #florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh imagine #littlexscarletxwitch's fic #[🎧⊹♡] based on songs i love #Spotify

326 notes · View notes

anonymityisfunwriter · 1 month

Text

Midnight Rain

“I broke his heart because he was nice. He was Sunshine, I was Midnight Rain…”

Request from ao3- "ok but imagine a grumpy/sunshine fic with sam but the reader is the grumpy one 🤷" For one of my fave readers, @/badasswithafatass I hope you enjoy! 💛

Pairing - Sam Wilson x Reader Sam Wilson Masterlist | Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist Anon's 1K Celebration

“You know, for a smart guy, you’re pretty fucking dense," Bucky mutters, taking another swig of his beer.

“Aw… you think I’m smart?” Sam sarcastically awes from the bar stool beside Bucky.

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head, “Do you honestly think she had any real interest in me?”

Bucky doesn't miss the tick in Sam's jaw at the mention of you. Months had passed since the last time Sam saw you, and he wasn’t too keen on remembering that dreaded last night. Just the memory of you leaning over the bar counter, hand resting on Bucky’s chest, whispering something in Bucky's ear, was enough to make Sam's stomach twist into a knot.

Even before that night, he could tell that you were pulling away from him, but there it was, that night, the final nail in the coffin. That was the last time he’d seen or heard from you. You walked out of his life without so much as a goodbye.

Sam rolls his shoulders back, his mouth twisting in distaste, “Sure seemed like it to me.”

“See? Dense,” Bucky declares, tipping his beer in Sam's direction.

“Alright, I’ll bite. How does any of that make me dense?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Are you going to keep insulting me or are you going to actually explain?”

“Sam, she’s a spy, an assassin," Bucky explains like it should be obvious. "She knew you were standing there. She knew you were watching.”

"So maybe she wanted to make a point. It’s not like she was one for talking or communicating, maybe that was her way of letting me know how she actually felt. Trust me, I got the message loud and clear. That doesn’t make me dense."

"Sam..." Bucky takes a long breath. "We're a lot alike, me and her. And people like us, we cut and run, it's what we do. We don't wait for things to go bad, we live with the expectation that things will always go bad."

Sam tosses the rest of his whiskey back, flagging down the bartender for another one. "That's a depressing way to live."

“It keeps us alive.”

“We weren’t on a battlefield!" Sam spits through gritted teeth. "We were done with the fight, remember? We won, for Christ’s sake!”

“And where did that leave her, Sam? With a conditional pardon? People watching us 24/7?”

“With me!” Sam snaps, slamming his glass down on the bar. “It left her with me. We were good, Bucky! We were happy together. At least, I thought we were happy together. I even- I told her that after everything, that I would take her back home, meet my family, maybe settle down a little.”

"And while you're thinking about taking her home to meet your family, she's probably thinking how a family like yours is going to react to you bringing an actual assassin home."

"I... didn't think about it like that,” Sam confesses, faltering for a moment. He shakes his head. No. He refuses to accept that. It didn't excuse that he'd found you flirting with his best friend. It didn't change that you told him he meant nothing to you. “Because I don't think about her like that. And you know what? She could've talked to me, she could've told me she felt like that, Bucky, but she didn't."

"Sam, can I be honest?"

"Shoot."

"I don't think you two will ever work."

"That's a shitty thing to say to me," Sam spits.

"I don't," Bucky admits with a languid shrug. "Honest truth, I don't see it."

"You don't have to see it, I do,” Sam firmly states. “I see it working out."

Bucky claps a hand on Sam's shoulder with a tight lipped smile, "That's my point, Sam. That's the difference between you and us. You, you live for the hope of it all. She doesn't know how to do that. I don't know how to do that. We're broken, haunted people, Sam. We hurt people that get too close."

"You're wrong."

"Why else-"

"Because she was bored!" Sam angrily shouts, not caring at the stares his outburst brings. "She only wanted me because I was there."

“Do you honestly believe that?”

“Yes. I do believe that,” Sam hisses. “Unlike you guys, I believe the words that come out of people’s mouth. She was bored... She was bored and I was there.”

Bucky takes a long pull from his beer, rising from his seat with a defeated sigh. He turns to Sam to offer one last piece of insight, “All I’m saying is I wouldn’t go on the run with someone for two years because I was bored. Not unless I really gave a shit about them. Not unless I loved them, like really loved them.”

"Do you mean that?" Sam asks over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I mean that."

3 Years Earlier - Somewhere in Scotland

“Just let me do the talking, okay?”

Sam raises up his hands, “No arguments from me.”

The doorknob rattles for a moment, opening just enough for you to stand before them. You look at them and immediately try to snap the door shut, “No.”

Nat extends out her hand to stop the door from swinging shut. “Just hear us-“

“No.”

"You don't even know why we're here," Nat argues. “It’s important. Please.”

You relent, allowing the door to fling open. Standing tall in the doorway, your eyes rake over each of them, “Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov or whatever name you’re going by now, and Sam Wilson, all in the flesh, all the most wanted fugitives on Earth. So I don’t care how important it is, my answer is no.”

Sam’s eyes comically widen, his voice taking a slightly bewildered, high pitched tone, “How did - Do you happen to know the names of all strangers that show up at your door?”

Your eyes dart over to Sam with a grimace, “Strangers that show up at my door end up dead. Consider yourself lucky.”

“I want you to know I’m choosing to take that as a compliment,” Sam quips, placing his hand over his heart.

“Don’t worry, Sam," Natasha smirks over her shoulder. "She’s more bark than bite. And this is me calling in a favor.”

Your eyes narrow at Natasha, "Which favor?"

"Budapest."

Your mouth narrows into a thin line as you glare at her. You hated that favor.

You look back at the three of them. Even dressed in street clothes they all stuck out like sore thumbs. They’re all disheveled, clearly exhausted, and you did owe Natasha. You convince yourself that there is no good in this deed, it’s just a repayment. Even as your eyes linger back to Sam for a second too long. You tell yourself you don't care what happens to any of them. It's just paying a debt. “Fine. Just keep me out of it.”

Natasha nods, offering a small grateful smile, “Thank you.”

You turn on your heels without another word, striding down to your room. You slam your bedroom door shut, leaving the others on their own.

“It was nice meeting you,” Sam calls after you.

You don’t bother to reply.

After a few hours, the sun sets and your safe house returns back to its normal quiet state except for the soft snores of Steve Rogers in your spare bedroom. You’re certain that they’ve all gone off to get some rest. That is, everyone, except Sam Wilson.

“Have a good nap?” Sam greets you, sitting on the small couch in the middle of your living room.

Your eyes snap over to Sam, lightly scoffing, “Actually, I was avoiding you.”

Your brutal honestly doesn’t phase Sam. The corner of his mouth twitches up as he playfully tugs on the collar of his t-shirt, “I tend to have that effect on the ladies… That sounded better in my head.”

“For you and me both,” you quip.

“You know, you’re kind of a jackass.”

“I know. Thanks.” That's the only conversation you plan on having with Sam Wilson. You continue walking to the kitchen without saying anything else.

"So how long have you and Nat been friends?" Sam asks, trailing you as you walk to your kitchen, clearly not taking the hint that you don't want to talk to him.

You scoff over your shoulder, "Who said we were friends?"

"So you're not friends? Because the whole letting us hide out here, housing us, letting us eat your food, not turning us in, sorta gave me a different idea."

"We're not friends."

In truth, your relationship to Natasha was much more complex than that. At one point, you were like sisters. In the Red Room, she was all you had. Your only friend. Your confidante. And still, you could never quite live up to her, always second to her. You knew all her secrets, all the blood spilt, all the skeletons in her closet, and she knew all of yours.

The night before your graduation, you ran. As far away and as quickly as your legs could carry you.

You were never quite sure if it was irony or simply Dreykov’s own cruelty, but she was the one tasked to find you and collect you. You never stood much of a chance against the person that spent almost two decades besting you. She found you in Budapest. It would’ve taken a single shot. And still, it never came.

But you weren’t going to tell that to Sam.

"You're not friends?”

"No."

After that, your paths crossed only once in a blue moon. Once Natasha left Dreykov, she never sought you out. And you didn’t bother to either. You weren’t friends. You weren’t enemies. She was the sister that became little more than a stranger.

"Do you help all your not friends run from the law?"

"Natalia and I have an agreement of ... mutually assured destruction."

"Mutually assured destruction?" he dubiously repeats, quirking an eyebrow. "...So best friends."

In spite of your best efforts, your outwardly stoic expression gives way as a chuckle bubbles out of your mouth.

"Did anyone see that?” Sam proudly announces to the empty house. “I want it on the record that I made a Black Widow laugh!"

"Don't push it," you warn, though the hint of a smile that pulls at the corner of your mouth dampens the threatening undertone of your words.

"You've got a nice smile," Sam compliments.

You wipe the smile off your face, but there's nothing you can do to tame the slight blush creeping up your face, so you say the first thing that comes to mind, "Fuck off."

That's how it went between you and him. Push and pull.

Their time at your safe house in Scotland was short lived. No more than a few weeks. And even in those few short weeks, he saw it, saw the good that you desperately tried to keep hidden. Even then he knew, he knew you cared so much more than you would ever let on. Cooped up in your little cottage, he found that behind your barbed words and tough exterior, was a person that he really liked. You didn't let him see very much of it. Most of the time, it was in little slip ups, little cracks in your armor, but he saw it. He swore he did.

Sam ambles alone through the streets of New York, the pavement is still damp from the midnight rain, the noisy cityscape is the only thing keeping Sam from fixating on the endless loop of memories playing in his head.

He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t think about you anymore. He did. All the time.

He thinks about how good it used to be. How even on the run, constantly looking over your shoulder, it was good. He'd like to think you were as happy as he was.

In truth, he wasn't sure how or when it happened. You weren't very nice to him - to any of them really. You kept them at arm's length. He had to earn every glimpse of the person behind the armor. He had to earn every smile, every laugh, but he found each one was worth it. To him, you were worth it. You were worth all of it.

And when that time came, when that safe house wasn't safe anymore, you stayed by his side, you became his home.

You simply walked up to the breakfast table and announced that it wasn't safe to stay much longer. "You have to leave."

"What?"

"We've been here too long. People in town are beginning to talk."

Natasha didn't miss a beat. "How long?"

"Tonight."

Sam watches the interaction closely. You refuse to look at him. For a moment, Natasha's eyes look at you, imploring. She utters a quiet question in Russian.

You don't respond, only shaking your head once.

"I understand." She softly inhales, her shoulders slumping slightly, "Thank you."

You nod, turning on your heels and heading to your room. You didn't expect Sam to follow after you.

There's some part of you that's unsettled by how easily Sam fits into your life. You don't like how he speaks to you like you're friends. You don't like that there's a part of you that would love to know what being in Sam's life would feel like. And you most certainly don't like that Sam has no problem questioning you. Prying into your life. He won't like what he finds. He'll run the moment he sees the number of skeletons in your closet. No, you don't like that at all.

And you definitely don't like that he feels comfortable enough to follow you back to your bedroom. He wedges himself into your doorway, leaning against the wall, "So what about you?"

You don't turn to look at him as you pack your duffle bag, "What about me?"

"Where you gonna go?"

"I have other places."

"By yourself?"

"Typically."

"Why don't you stay with us?"

You pretend like you're surprised by the offer. As though Natasha didn't offer the same thing two minutes ago. You just didn't expect Sam's kindness to extend past his need for your safe house. "What?"

He takes a step off the wall. Even turned away from him, you can practically hear the grin he wears in his words. "We could always use the help. You seem like kind of a pro at being a fugitive."

"I don't think your team would appreciate my presence."

"I would. I want you to come." Sam turns back at the doorframe. He pauses for a moment, looking back at you. "You should come with us."

You never told him why you ended up joining them. It was the one question he couldn't ever get a straight answer for.

He couldn't really remember how or when you ended up in his bed - or more accurately, when he ended up in your bed.

All he knew was that for two years, you were his sanctuary. Each and every night. He held you. Kissed away your fears. You allowed him to see parts of you that you buried long ago.

It made the moment you walked away hurt even more.

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing here. He's pacing through the streets of New York in the middle of the night. It won't bring you back. It won't change what happened. You still left him.

It was easier believing that you left him because you didn't love him.

The other option hurts. It hurts too much. His heart almost shatters at the though of you leaving him because you didn't see it working out, because you thought you would hurt him.

That's the worst part - he believes Bucky. He believes that no one, not even someone as prone to finding trouble as you are, would ever go on the run with someone for the hell of it. Not unless you cared. Not unless you loved him.

He should've seen it. The panic in your eyes when he suggested going back to Louisiana. The pain when you lost Natasha, the last person you considered family.

It eats at him. He didn't even try. Not really. Yeah, you walked away, but he could've gone after you. He could've believed in the love he knew you shared.

He reaches for his phone, tucking into the crook of his neck as he hails a cab, and calls the one person that could possibly help him, "I need your help. Can you find someone for me?"

1 Year Earlier - Somewhere in Eastern Europe

“Stop watching me sleep.”

Sam kisses your bare shoulder, resting his chin on your arm, “It’s the only time you’re not frowning. Except when you’re with me, of course.”

You sleepily sigh, trying to suppress the smile that Sam so effortlessly puts on your face. You halfheartedly push him away, rolling further away from him, “I’m going back to sleep.”

Sam’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him, “No, come back.”

“We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, we should get the rest while we can.”

“I miss you,” Sam whines.

“I’m right here.”

“But we’re always talking about work, about the world ending, I just - I just want a minute, just me and you.”

You finally turn around to face him with a cheeky grin, “You had me to yourself all night, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

You settle against him, resting your head on his chest, “So why couldn’t you sleep?”

He smiles down at you, absentmindedly playing with your fingers, “I was thinking.”

“About?” you urge.

“What comes next. After the fight, after everything, about going home, finally seeing my family again. My sister would love you. I can't wait to introduce you."

Your smile slips from your face. "What?"

"I mean, I know we're on the run and everything, but I'm still holding onto hope," Sam confesses. "You'd love Louisiana."

A sinking feeling overtakes you. Those survival instincts you've spent your entire life cultivating bubble up. You could see Sam's family picture where he left it on the dresser. His picture perfect, shiny family.

That wasn't you. Not even in your wildest dreams could that be you. The closest thing you had to a family was the Black Widow sitting in the other room cleaning her knives. You weren't meant for domesticity. You weren't built for the happy ending that Sam deserved. The happy ending he wanted.

Sure, he loved you now, but would he love you when his family looks at you with disdain? Would he love you when Sarah refuses to let you anywhere near his nephews?

Or even worse, what if he did? What if he loved you through it all and you broke him in return? What if he loved you and he lost everything else because of it?

You could tell Sam. Right here and now. Tell him that you weren't built for that life. He would listen. He would hear you. Like all of your other scars and imperfections, Sam would take it in stride. You knew he would.

But could you really do that to him? Doom him to a life tethered to someone so tainted.

He was perfect. In every conceivable way. He was Sunshine. And though you'd done unspeakable things, there would be nothing quite as vile as dragging him down to the dim, murky depths of the wasteland you called home.

He deserved more. More than you would ever be.

6 Months Ago - A Bar in New York City

"You don't have to do this."

You bitterly chuckle. It was too late. You'd made up your mind. You gave yourself until the war against Thanos was won. You gave yourself that time to say your silent goodbyes, to memorize the one and only love you would ever allow yourself to have. You were selfish in that way.

Now was the time to save Sam while you still could, to finally set him free. Even if you had to break his heart to do it. You rest your hand on Bucky's chest, the furthest you could allow yourself to go without making your stomach turn. "Do what?"

Bucky's jaw ticks, "He's a good man."

"I know." It's the only time your voice reveals even an ounce of your pain. Your eyes flicker to over Bucky's shoulder. It's too late. Sam stands a few feet from you, watching you with anguish in his eyes. For good measure, you lean in closer, whispering in Bucky's ear, "But I never did well with sunshine."

"Can I talk to you outside?" Sam demands.

You roll your eyes and snort, "If we have to."

"We do."

Sam doesn't waste a single moment. The second you step outside, he points back to the bar, "What the hell was that?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you kidding me? I saw you. You were all over him. He's my friend!"

"I was just having a little fun, Sam."

"A little fun?" Sam scoffs. "Are you kidding me?"

You don't allow a single ounce of remorse to show. You don't allow him to see the regret. Your face is purposely blank, cold and uncaring. You were good at this part. You were good at hurting people. It's exactly why you have to let him go. "I don't see what the big deal is, Sam."

"You don't see what the big deal is?" Sam's voice wavers. "You were just coming onto my friend! What about us?"

"What about us?" you scoff. "I was bored, Sam, we had our fun but it's done now. We're not on the run anymore. It's not a big deal."

"Just like that, we're just done?"

"You were there, Sam," you lie through your teeth. Acid churns in your stomach, rising up through your esophagus and coating your every word. "There's nothing more to it, nothing more to us."

You'd done a lot of bad things in your life, but nothing made you feel quite as wretched as watching Sam's heart shatter before you. It was better this way. He didn't know it, but it was for the best. You couldn't ruin his life anymore. You couldn't hurt him if you walked away right now. Those were the last words you ever said to him.

He did it. He couldn't believe it. He'd found you. There you were, standing out on a rooftop, out in the pouring midnight rain. He almost laughs because of course you wouldn't even realize how theatrical this whole scene was. "Do you realize how dramatic it is to be standing out in the pouring rain all by yourself? And without an umbrella?"

"I'm working, Sam."

"Shooting your next romantic comedy? Is this the breakup scene?"

You don't even turn to look at him. “You shouldn’t be here, Sam.”

Sam scoffs, “That’s all you have to say? That I shouldn’t be here?”

“Go home, Sam," you demand. "I don’t want you here.”

“You’re such a jackass, you know that?”

It pisses him off that you still refuse to even look at him. If you were going to break his heart all over again, the least you could do was look him in the eye. You speak through clenched teeth, "I know."

He storms around, planting himself in front of you, forcing you to look at him. "No, I mean that, I really, truly, from the bottom of my heart, I mean that. You're such an asshole. You're one of the most difficult, abrasive, cold, and selfish people I've ever met."

You can't bring yourself to meet his gaze. You look just past him, mustering every ounce of your training to stay stone faced, "I know."

"Do you know how hard it was to find you?"

"I didn't ask you to come here," you spit at him. "I didn't want you to come looking for me. You knew that."

"And you're a liar!" Sam exclaims, a bitter laugh bubbling up from his chest. "A damned good one, too."

"I never lied to you about who or what I was."

"But you did lie, didn't you? You've lied to me before."

“Yes, I have," you softly admit. You catch yourself, reminding yourself of why you're being so harsh with Sam. You force yourself to speak with that venomous tone you know all too well, "Many times, so if you’re done insulting me, I have to go.”

"God, you're so selfish, and- and you're mean! You brood way too much. You're so fucking angsty all the time. You act like the tortured character in every shitty teen movie every made. You're inconsiderate. You don't listen. I swear, talking to you is like talking to a brick wall. And sometimes - sometimes, I want to hate you so much."

It takes everything in you to sound as unaffected as you do. You quirk an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your chest, "Is that why you came here? Because you're upset?"

"Upset?" Sam incredulously repeats, taking a step toward you. He's still several feet away from you, still far out of your reach, "No, I'm not upset. I was upset six months ago. Now, I'm angry. I'm pissed off - with you. I have never been so mad at another human being in my entire life."

"I didn't do anything to you. You knew who I was - who I am."

"You think that's why I'm pissed? I'm pissed because you made me like you. I'm pissed that you made me fall so hopelessly in love with you."

For the first time in six months, your eyes find his. His warm eyes, the ones that grounded you through storms of midnight rain. He'd never said he loved you before - there's no taking that back. You suck in a breath, "Sam."

"I'm pissed because I believed you when you said you were bored. But mostly, I'm pissed that I let you go, that I let you walk away without fighting for you."

You try to warn him, beg him to stop before he says something that'll make it too hard to walk away from him. "Sam."

"Because I'm in love with you."

Your voice wavers as you beg him, "Don't do this, Sam."

"I'm in love with you," Sam announces again to his audience of one. "And I know you don't think you're good for me. And I know that it won't be easy, but I am. I am in love with you. Every part of you. Especially the parts you don't like. I like that you're mean, I like that you're tougher than any other person I've ever met, I like that you're grumpy. I like that you don't see how dramatic it is to stand in the pouring rain all by yourself! I love you. I love all of you."

"Sam..." His name leaves your mouth in a whisper. It's too late. You're not strong enough to survive walking away from him. He's doomed himself.

He takes a step closer to you. "And maybe it wasn't real... but I think it was. I think you feel the same." And then another step. And yet another. Until you're face to face, close enough that you could reach out and touch him for the first time in months. The rain beats down on the two of you. The dampness on your cheeks has nothing to do with the rain. "Tell me that you don't love me and I'll leave. Tell me and I won't bother you again, I promise."

You can't. You can't bring yourself to say any of it. "Sam, it'll never work for us. You have to know that."

"We're not at war anymore." His hand skates across your cheek. "We don't have to hide. We don't have to run."

"I'm not - I'm not good, Sam." And you are, you want to say.

“No, no, you’re not good. You’re great. You’re amazing. And it’s a damn shame you haven’t stepped into the daylight long enough to see how incredible you are.”

You jerk your face away from his hand, “And what if I can’t give you what you want? What if I can’t be what you want?”

“What do you know about what I want?”

“You want a bride. You want someone to bring home to your family - that’s not me, Sam. I don’t think that’ll ever be me.”

“I want you." Sam takes your face in between both hands, begging you to see the sincerity in his eyes. "I want you in whatever way you’ll have me.”

“I’m not worth it," you softly exhale. "You have to know that I’m not worth the trouble and the heartache I’ll put you through.”

“Break my heart," Sam offers without hesitation. "Do it over and over again. Do it for the rest of our lives. It’s all yours. You’re worth it.”

“Sam…” You didn’t have any other defense. He’d broken down each and every argument you spent years cultivating. You didn’t know where to go from here.

“Do you love me?” Your lips press into a thin line, eyes squeezing shut to keep the tears welling in your eyes from falling. The rain slows to a halt. His thumb and pointer finger grip your chin, forcing you to meet his warm brown eyes. “Do you love me?”

“I love you.” You don't think you've ever said those words before. You don't think you've ever seen the daylight until you saw him. It'll take time for your eyes to adjust, but he's worth it. "I love you so much it hurts, so much that I let you go."

“You don't have to let me go anymore. We'll figure the rest out together."

Sam Wilson Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez@ludicbouquetfromearth@matchat3a@famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff@valoraxx@blue786sworld@buckyandgeraltsupremacy@geminigengar@ansaturn@ecolle@lexhalstead3@ybflkmj@mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112@thegirlnextdoorssister@toomanyfanficsbruh@moonlightreader649@breathtaking-cynthia@mirikusashes@beans-and-toast@niyahcoca@katiechikin@elxvrr@antiheroxsblog@infamouslyclumsy@krissydclayton93@buckysbarne@deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic@whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy

81 notes · View notes

arlana-likes-to-write · 9 months

Text

What Was I Made For? By Billie Eillish

Summary: After Yelena returns to Soyna's apartment from failing to kill Clint Barton she begins to question her place in this world. Luckly for her, you are there to lend a helping hand.

Warning: Self-doubt, Fluff, Lots of drinking, mention of Natasha's death, Yelena needs the biggest hug.

Word Count: 2.7k

The front door slammed shut and alerted you to her arrival. But you didn’t get out of bed when you heard the hushed voices of Yelena and Soyna through the door. It was when you heard one set of footsteps storm off, you climbed out of bed and opened the door. You lived with Sonya when she and Yelena exposed you to the Red Dust. She offered you a room until you decided what was next. However, that was the problem. You weren’t sure what was next. All of your life you followed orders and behaved like a good soldier to complete the orders to a man that no longer existed. He could no longer hurt you. What were you to do now? “How is she?” You asked. Soyna was resting her hands on the kitchen counter.

“She didn’t complete the mission,” that was a surprise. Yelena always completed the mission. You didn’t know anything about her newest assignment, just that the target was in New York City and she would be staying here until she finished the job. You sighed, walked over to the fridge, and took out two bottles of vodka.

“I’m guessing she’s on the roof,” you put on your sneakers and winter jacket.

“Zvezda (star),” you stopped before going up the fire escape. “I don’t think she wants to talk to anyone.” You smiled at your friend.

“Well, it’s lucky I’m someone special,” you opened the window and stepped onto the fire escape, closing it behind you. Zvezda it was a nickname Yelena gave you. The Red Room assigned you to a rising crime lord in the New York and New Jersey area. At least that was what Soyna told you. The things you did for them would come in flashes, mostly in nightmares. Once you adjusted to having your mind and body back, you got a tattoo of Saturn on your arm. The planet symbolized stubbornness, stability, and authority. It was for anyone that wished to take control of their life. That was what you needed. A gentle reminder that you were in control of your life and the end of your story. So they tried to give you the nickname of ‘planet’, ‘Saturn’ but you didn’t like any of them until Yelena came up with star. It fit you well.

You stepped onto the roof, the winter air caused goosebumps to form on your legs. “I came up here because I do not want to talk,” Yelena said, without turning around. She sat on the roof’s edge, legs dangling above the city below.

“Good thing I don’t want to talk,” you said, sitting down next to her. It was close enough that you felt the warmth radiating from her but you gave her enough space to not overcrowd her. It was a delicate dance to play with the blonde. You opened the bottle. “Drink.” You offered her it but she didn’t take her eyes off the busy city street below. You took a sip from the bottle, the burn made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You put the bottle between you and her, leaning back and looking at the city. It was beautiful this time of year. Red and white lights danced in the darkness. You wondered what it was like to celebrate Christmas. Holidays weren’t celebrated in the Red Room. Holidays were used as an easy way to get into a party to find a target. It was another day of training and another night handcuffed to your bed.

“You are going to catch a cold wearing that,” she took a generous sip from the bottle.

“And I thought you didn’t want to talk Belova,” she was wearing her black tactical suit. A smirk was on her face as she took another sip and you picked up the bottle, mirroring her. The other Widows liked to tease you that Yelena had a soft spot for you. She rarely snapped or became annoyed with you but you contributed to not bothering her. You let her exist, not forcing her to talk.

“What did Soyna tell you?” She still refused to look at you.

“You didn’t complete the job,” you shrugged. “I didn’t ask more. Not my place.” It was true. If Yelena refused to kill the man or woman then it had to be a good reason.

“Why are you here then?” Finally, she looked at you. Her green eyes were red, her cheeks blotchy, and dried tears on her cheeks.

“Just to sit here and be your friend,” you took another sip. You felt her eyes on you soon it became too much and you looked at her. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“I do not know,” you nodded.

“Well, when you do know I’m here,” you continued to sit in silence, passing the bottle back and forth until it was empty and you opened the next one. The alcohol was making you feel warm like you were surrounded by a big hug. Yelena rubbed her eyes, suppressing a yawn. “Come on,” you stood up, wobbling slightly. You didn’t know if it was from the alcohol or your legs being asleep. You weren’t drunk, a little tipsy at best. “You should get some sleep.” The blonde groaned and you held out your hand. She sighed, took it, and grabbed the fuller bottle before standing up. She stumbled more than you did. Was she drinking before she came back to the apartment? You were a few inches taller than her and you caught the blonde when she stumbled forward. Her head fell into the crock of your neck. Her warm breath caused goosebumps to form on your skin.

“You smell good,” she mumbled. “Like euc-euc eucalyptus,” she stumbled over the word a few times which caused her to giggle. You rolled your eyes.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed. You walked in front of Yelena as you led her down the fire escape. Your hand lingered on her hip now and again to steady her. When you opened the window, the apartment was quiet. You weren’t sure if Soyna went to bed or went out. Yelena was eyeing the couch that had been her bed for the past few nights. “Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?” You asked as if you could read her mind. She looked at you, her green eyes wide.

“Can I?” She whispered. It was so rare to hear such vulnerability in her voice.

“Of course, you can,” you took the bottle from her and put it back in the fridge, making a mental note to buy Soyna two new bottles. You grabbed Yelena’s hand and brought her to your room. The first time she was in her was when she dropped you off. You’ve changed it since then, added posters of bands you liked and pictures you’ve taken around the city. She sat on the edge and looked around your room. “Do you want to change?”

“Clothes are out there,” she pointed to the door. “Don’t wanna move,” you giggled. “What’s so funny?” She asked as you walked to your closet.

“Your just cute,” you saw a blush rise to her cheeks. “I have stuff you can use,” you grabbed her a long sleeve shirt and an extra pair of sleep shorts. You handed them to the blonde but knelt on the floor to take off her boots. She didn’t fight you but watched you with a curious expression. “Do you need help changing?” Yelena shook her head. “Okay, I’ll be right back.” You left your room with her boats in hand to give her some privacy. You filled two glasses with water before returning to your room. Yelena was changed and resting her back on your headboard. You placed both glasses of water on your nightstand. “Did you get hurt tonight?” She hesitated but shrugged. “Do you want me to look at it?”

“No,” she simply said. You turned on the light you had on your nightstand and turned off the overhead light before climbing into bed. She copied you, getting under the covers, and lay down to face you. Tears swelled in her eyes.

“Yelena,” you whispered. “Are you okay?” She shook her head, a sob escaping her lips. You didn’t think and brought the emotionally distraught Black Widow into your arms. She tensed up at the sudden contact but you felt her hands grip onto your shirt like a lifeline. “Sh, you’re okay,” you whispered, undoing the braid in her hair and running your fingers through her blonde locks. “Your safe. Your safe.” You kept repeating it until her cries turned into hiccups and her breathing evened out. She was fast asleep in your arms. You wondered if she ever allowed herself this peace, this safety net to fall back on. Yelena always seemed so strong, barely showing any emotion. It had to be exhausting. You allowed yourself a few minutes of soothing her before falling asleep.

It took a few moments for Yelena to recognize where she was, alone, in a room she had only seen in passing but never dared to go in. Your room. It always seemed welcoming, warm, and inviting. Yelena groaned, pushing her hands to her temples. Her head was pounding. She wasn’t sure if it was from all the alcohol she drank or the crying. She couldn’t remember the last time she cried, especially in front of someone. It was embarrassing and threatened the way she presented herself. But last night was the best night’s sleep she’s had in a long time. Yelena saw the glass of water and medicine you left out for her. There was a part of Yelena that was curious about where you ran off to but the much louder part was dreading to face you. With a sigh, she finished the water and ventured into the apartment. You were in the kitchen, mixing something into a metal bowl. “Where is Soyna?” Yelena asked. You jumped slightly.

“She ran to the store so I’m in charge of breakfast,” you smiled. “I’m making pancakes.”

“Do you need help?” Yelena offered. She wasn’t well versed in the kitchen, surviving mostly on take-out or easy microwave dinners.

“Can you make coffee?” That was something she could do and she was grateful to do something. You turned up the music you were listening to and the kitchen was no longer quiet. When the coffee started, Yelena couldn’t help but watch you move around the kitchen. You were so different than the other Widows she’s saved from Dreykov’s claws. You were soft, caring, and like Melina said all those years ago to her and Natasha you kept your heart. Her heart was tainted, blackened with grief and a thirst for revenge. But she felt empty, lost, and without a purpose. “Your thinking too hard,” your voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “Sit. The food is done.” Yelena did what she was told and sat down. You placed a plate in front of her with syrup and coffee from the pot. Why were you doing this? Yelena wasn’t deserving of your kindness. “Yelena, stop thinking and just eat.” You smiled. Your smile made her stomach flip.

“Thank you,” she took a bite of the food. “It’s really good.”

“I’m glad you like it,” you both ate in silence, allowing the music to fill it. But her mind started to wander and it went back to your room. Yelena had a room at Melina’s farm, she rarely used it as she slept in hotels or apartments of the Widows she’s helped. The room wasn’t decorated, and she didn’t have posters or pictures to hand up. The only picture she had was a ripped photo strip of her and Natasha.

“Yelena,” she looked at you. “Are you okay?” She forced a smile.

“I’m okay, malen’kaya zvezda (little star), no need to worry.” She wasn’t expecting you to frown.

“Your not okay,” you said. Your blunt comment surprised her. “And that’s okay. We can’t always be strong. We have to break now and again.” Yelena chuckled, shaking her head.

“Tell me, how did you keep your heart?” She asked. You didn’t mask the confusion on your face. “Your heart is good. They didn’t taint it.” Your frown deepened.

“Do you not think your heart is good?” Yelena couldn’t find an answer. How could she tell you she was hired to kill an Avenger and she believed the lie that he killed her sister? “I think your heart is good,” you continued. “You wouldn’t do what you do if your heart wasn’t good.” Yelena laughed bitterly, looking out towards the window. She wondered what Clint and Kate were doing right now. Were they celebrating Christmas?

“Do you ever wonder why we were put through the Red Room?” She asked. “Besides following Dreykov’s orders and taking down countries and starting wars. But what about now? The Red Room is gone and we are left with these kills,” she sighed, running her hands through her hair. “What was I made for? I used to know but I’m not sure now.” Yelena looked at you. You were watching her intensely, it made her feel small and foolish under your graze for opening up like this. But she couldn’t stop.

“Sometimes I don’t feel real,” she continued. “I’m just something someone paid for. I don’t know how to feel,” Quietly, you rested your hand on top of hers. Yelena was surprised she didn’t pull away.

“What was your mission?” You asked. Yelena stared at your connected hands.

“Someone put a hit on Clint Barton,” she didn’t need to loop up for you know you knew the name. “Valentina gave me the job. She said,” Yelena sighed, closing her eyes. Her throat began to burn as she felt her emotions start to overpower her. “She said he had a hand in my sister’s death.”

“Did he?” You whispered. Yelena shook her head.

“No. It’s why I didn’t kill him,” you didn’t say anything instead you ran your fingers across her hand. It was soothing. “I wonder,” Yelena continued. “If Valentina is like Dreykov. I’m blindly following orders without thinking for myself.” It was your turn to sigh and Yelena glanced up at you. You were deep in thought, staring at the now empty plate.

“You and I and every other Widow were not given a fair or easy life,” Yelena counted herself lucky for the 3 years in Ohio. She was given a family, even though it was for a mission. It was more than some of the other girls had. “We were born to be used, and abused, and controlled but I know that isn’t the end of our story.”

“What is the end?” Yelena asked. You finally began to smile.

“I don’t know but we are free, Yelena. We write our own story. No man or woman can take that from us,” you squeezed her hand. “You were made to be anything you want.” Yelena scuffed, shaking her head. You made it sound so easy.

“I don’t know what I want,” there was one thing she wanted more than anything in the world. She wanted more time with her sister. It was so unfair how little time they had together. You removed your hand as you started cleaning up the breakfast. Yelena hated to admit how much she missed it.

“Well, I would stop working with Valentina,” you loaded the dishwasher. “Go on a vacation. Swim in the ocean. Eat your weight in ice cream,” Yelena chuckled. Once you were happy with how the kitchen, you leaned back on the counter. “That’s the beautiful and scary thing about being free there is no limit to what we can do,” Yelena smiled, a real when. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since she smiled.

“You still didn’t answer my question,” she said. “How did you keep your heart?” You shrugged.

“They tried to break it,” you told her. Your smile was no longer happy. “But I had to believe the horror we were subjected to wasn’t our end. It gave me hope,” this time Yelena grabbed your hand and interlocked her fingers with yours.

“Will you join me?” She asked. “On my self-discovery journey.”

“Yeah, of course,” you said. “I’d follow you anywhere you go.” Yelena felt a warm feeling grow in her chest. She couldn’t blame the alcohol or her grief. You were to blame for this giddy feeling that she had about the future. For once, Yelena wasn’t afraid and she hoped to make her sister proud.

Might return to this little AU in the future. May add some angst in Part 2. We'll see what happens and how I'm feeling lol

#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x fem!reader #yelena belova #black widow x reader #black widow one shot #black widow fanfiction #yelena belova imagine #reader insert #based on a song #barbie movie #black widow imagine #black widow

204 notes · View notes