#I hope I didn’t mess up the russian | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

witchywithwhiskey · 5 months ago

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for so long as you live

pairing: mafia!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: the fearsome boss of new york city's russian mob proves a point about who you belong to

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), very mild dubcon, intoxication, fingering (f receiving), public play, finger sucking, choking, breathplay, very mild blood kink, dacryphilia, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (printsessa), very possessive bucky

word count: 2.0k

a/n: i wrote this for @the-slumberparty's emoji game using these: 🍕❤️🔥 i hope the plot twist in this actually works (idk if it counts as a PLOT twist but whatever). i just hope it's surprising but still makes sense!!! also all the russian words are from google translate so if any are wrong, let me know and i'll fix them (translations are down at the bottom because one is a spoiler!) anyway i hope y'all enjoy!!

It was a warm summer night in New York City, the kind where even the breeze was pleasant enough that you didn’t resist when a balmy gust slipped beneath the hem of your short white dress and slid up your legs, tickling the soft skin of your thighs.

Neither did you resist when the breeze was chased by the searching hand of Bucky Barnes, his fingers skimming up your smooth skin as he curled his body around yours in the back booth of the late night Brooklyn pizza parlor.

The front door of the shop was open, and all manner of drunken Brooklynites traipsed over the threshold, intent on ordering a greasy slice that would soak up some of the alcohol in their stomachs. The crowd was loud and rowdy and thankfully unobservant, because you were painfully aware that any one of them could very easily catch you with Bucky’s hand up your skirt.

The back booth wasn’t nearly dark enough, nor secluded enough to hide you entirely from view, but the insistent desire and warming liquor pounding in your blood made it difficult to care.

Bucky’s fingers slid another inch up your thigh, pressing between your soft curves until they found the wetness that had dripped from your folds and made a mess under your skirt. His rumbling chuckle felt like another warm, summer breeze, suffusing you in a heat that burned from the inside out.

Your thighs fell open of their own accord, giving Bucky unfettered access to the place that ached for his touch, even as a protesting whine worked its way up your throat.

“Bucky…” you mewled, your reticence clear in your tone. Your fingers closed around the sinewy forearm that was disappearing up your skirt, intent on pulling him away from your soaking heat. Your nails dug into his golden skin when his other hand darted out and grabbed you by the throat.

With his thumb pressed to the hinge of your jaw, he turned your face to him, a warning sparkling in his ice blue eyes. A thrum of fear and excitement churned low in your belly at the way Bucky was looking at you—like you were prey, and he was a predator who had already decided he was going to eat you for dinner.

“I hope you weren’t about to tell me not to touch this pussy, printsessa,” Bucky rumbled, his voice deep and low like an oncoming thunderstorm. His hand wedged between your thighs beneath your skirt, shoving your legs wider so that he could cup your bare heat in his palm. “I hope you haven’t forgotten who this cunt belongs to.”

Your breath was coming in short, rabbity pants, your heart racing in your chest and your blood pounding in your veins like you were running for your life. But your mind knew what your body did not—it would be pointless to run from Bucky Barnes.

The Zimniy Soldat was the most feared boss in the city’s Russian mafia, a fact you’d learned the hard way when your father had paid off his debts by giving you to Bucky.

Bucky’s gaze bore into your own as he pushed two fingers into your tight channel, his eyes watching hungrily as your face went slack with pleasure.

“I’ll touch you whenever I want,” he growled, dragging his fingers back and plunging them into you again slowly, his eyes never straying from your face. “I’ll fuck you whenever I want—where ever I want.”

His other hand held you pinned to the leather booth by your throat, your body responding so eagerly to his touch that it felt like a betrayal. His thumb and forefinger pressed into the sides of your neck making your pussy spasm around his fingers.

Your body proved Bucky’s point before he made it as he rumbled, “This cunt belongs to me, printsessa.”

You hadn’t said a word since his name, but your slow submission was clear in every little movement of your body—your thighs spreading even wider for Bucky’s hand, your limbs loosening and melting into his hold, your lips falling open in a soundless moan as he fingerfucked you. Bucky owned you, and you both knew it.

And he relished your submission, even if you hadn’t quite accepted his possession of you yet. But you would.

The victorious smile that curved Bucky’s mouth was sharp and dangerous as a knife. When he spoke, though, his voice was as warm as the balmy summer breeze.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “give yourself to me.” The ice in his eyes was slowly but surely melting as he watched pleasure dance across your face, his smile widening into something hot and hungry. “This life of yours is mine now, printsessa, but if you’re a good girl for me, I can make sure it’s filled with pleasure and happiness,” he purred, his lips brushing against the apple of your cheek, their softness followed by the rough scrape of his scruff.

Bucky slid a third finger into your tight hole, stretching you wider and making you bite your lip hard to prevent yourself from crying out in pain-edged pleasure. Your chest heaved with the effort to stay quiet and, unbidden, a tear slipped from the corner of your eye while blood pooled on your lip.

But Bucky never stopped fucking you with his fingers, his hand working your body expertly as the soft, wet sounds of your obscenely sopping cunt reached your ears. Instead, the Zimniy Soldat kissed the tear from your cheek and licked the blood from your swollen lip, pulling back to stare into your eyes as he watched you come undone for him.

“You are mine,” he said with a tone of finality, as if his statement was an incontrovertible fact. Any protest you might’ve had—though in truth, you didn’t have any left—died in your throat as he choked you harder, his fingers working your pussy faster, grinding the heel of his palm into your wet, puffy clit as he continued on, pushing you to the edge of your release. “Moya printsessa, moya zhena.”

You felt Bucky’s ring—your husband’s ring—smooth and unyielding and warm from his skin, slip inside your cunt as he buried his fingers in your body. He rubbed your clit ruthlessly until he made you come right there in the back of the pizza parlor, not caring if anyone in the crowded shop could see it.

Your left hand, bedecked in a dazzling white sapphire ring and matching wedding band, wrapped around the back of Bucky’s neck, your nails digging into his skin as you clung to the most dangerous man in all of New York City while he made you come harder than you ever had before. Pleasure tore through your body as you held Bucky’s warm blue gaze, staring at the man who’d staked his claim on you.

The man you’d married only a few hours prior because it was the only way to settle your father’s debts.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” Bucky growled, his fingers fucking you through your orgasm, his eyes watching you hungrily, greedily.

Already, you could read him well enough to know he was thinking about watching you come on his cock as he claimed you in the most base, primal way possible. Your pussy clenched harder on his fingers at the thought, your body aching for it even as you came.

“Come all over your husband’s fingers—see how good I can be to you when you obey me, printsessa.”

Your teeth had sunk deep into your lower lip to quell any sounds of ecstasy, but the pleasure was too much, too overwhelming, and you threw your head back. Your breathy cry was muffled by Bucky’s fingers choking your throat harder, which only wrung even more bliss out of your body as black crept into the edges of your vision.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, your husband’s relentless touch dragging out your release until your strangled moans devolved into desperate whimpers. Tears gathered in your lashes, and your entire body trembled in the red leather booth at the back of the pizza parlor.

Only then did Bucky relent. “That’s my good girl,” he murmured before his lips slammed down on yours, his mouth claiming yours just as surely as his fingers had claimed your cunt.

He swallowed the keening whine you let out when he pulled his fingers from your throbbing pussy, your body aching at the loss of him. But then he replaced his mouth with them, pushing his fingers between your lips so you could taste your release—the release he’d wrung so masterfully from your body.

“Clean up your mess, moya zhena,” Bucky rumbled, his eyes sparkling with depraved delight as you dutifully licked his fingers clean.

When he decided you were done, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and let you collapse against his chest, your cheek pressed to his white cotton dress shirt—the one he’d worn to your wedding earlier that day.

His jacket had been shed at some point during the party at one of his nightclubs—a club decorated in neon red hearts. Bucky had smirked in amusement when you’d pointed out the irony of celebrating your forced marriage in a place where the theme was love.

That infuriating smirk had made you decide the best way to celebrate your sham nuptials was to drink and dance the night away. You’d spent your night trying not to notice how handsome the mob boss you’d married was, or how delicious he looked with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Or how a very small part of you enjoyed the way his eyes never strayed from you for long.

It had been your idea to get some pizza after the club, a last ditch attempt to put off the wedding night you were certain Bucky expected. You kept telling yourself you didn’t want him to touch you, but the second his fingers had grazed your bare knee beneath the simple white dress you wore, tingles of pleasure going straight to your clit, you’d known it was no use pretending you didn’t want your new husband.

When your father told you he’d arranged for you to marry the Zimniy Soldat in exchange for having his debts cleared, you never believed you could find anything to like about your mob boss husband. But Bucky had proven you very wrong in that back booth in the pizza parlor, and you were warming up to the idea of being Mrs. James Buchanan Barnes.

“Tell me you’re mine, printsessa,” Bucky rumbled, drawing your thoughts back to the present moment. His lips pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head where it was tucked under his chin, and your heart flipped happily in your chest.

The words were no less a command for the warmth in his tone that he seemed to reserve for only you, his new wife.

Perhaps it was because of the pleasure still thrumming through your body, or because you weren’t so convinced anymore that being married to the Zimniy Soldat would be a bad thing, but the words came much easier to your lips than you would’ve expected.

“I’m yours, my husband.”

A pleased sound rumbled in Bucky’s throat and you felt the way his heart beat harder in his chest with your cheek pressed to his sternum. You couldn’t help the small smile that curved your lips when Bucky threaded the fingers of his left hand through yours, your matching rings slotting next to each other and glittering beneath the yellow lights of the pizza parlor.

“You’ll be happy with me,” Bucky promised, the most recent of many vows he’d made to you that day. His words rang with determination and an emotion you’d never expected to hear from the mob boss—adoration. “So long as you always remember you belong to me, moya zhena.”

A shiver of delight raced down your spine at his possessive words, finding yourself liking them much more than you would’ve thought.

Something told you that you’d never forget you belonged to Bucky Barnes. Not at any point during the hopefully long and happy life you were going to live with him. You were his wife, and he was your husband, for so long as you both should live.

translations:

printsessa/moya printsessa - princess/my princess

Zimniy Soldat - Winter Soldier

moya zhena - my wife

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aureatchi · 8 months ago

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⋆ ☽˚｡ 𓂃 ࣪˖ AND THAT DAY THAT WE’LL WATCH THE DEATH OF THE SUN . . . ft. FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

⟢ PRÉCIS. restless at an hour far too late to be awake, you take a quest to the personal library lit only by warm-toned ambient lamps and candles. however, you are greeted by one who chastises you to rest, and despite his pretty face you remain stubborn. in turn, he takes up a mission on his own; one that he alone will always win: to coax you to sleep.

◞ OR fyodor knows time is limited. if only you realized this was his labyrintian way of saying au revoir for now.

ᡴꪫ a/n. it’s always his lap. been thinking about this scenario for awhile + re-inspired by the friends who played with my hair this week hehe. it makes me feel so sleepy. started to cope with ch113. :’) i hope this is decent ᡣ𐭩

ᡴꪫ info. fem!reader. fluff; sweetly suggestive in one part…and then hit with a train of angst; i warned u. soft fyodor. comfort/hurt ↻. religious imagery. it’s u trying to get him to sleep too. both poetic and shakespeare ramblings. bsd manga chapter 113 + s5 finale spoilers. russian may be incorrect. ﾉ wc. 3.1k+

“Is there anything you find more powerful than manipulation?”

Seated on the armchair across from yours, the ravenette took a sip of tea from his mug before setting it down. A bantering parley had taken place in between you two, filled with giggles and smiles, but in a moment without thought, you had brought up a more serious topic.

“Actually, yes,” he responded.

“A woman’s intuition.” You didn’t miss how his gaze slightly lowered. “The woman’s gut feeling is superior. If a man were to try manipulating her, she would know. No matter how naïve she was, the body would give her a single signal that could unravel his entire disposition at the fingertips.”

You discreetly smiled, looking down at the mug. You knew Fyodor was referring to his experience with you. At one point in time, he tried to finesse you in schemes of calamity. But in response, you ruined him—he would dare not admit out loud that you had forcefully taken whatever mess his heart was and sewed it back together with the strings of your own soul. You did so without ever realizing either. After so many years on this earth, even he did not know how to mend himself.

Now, he could only look at you as being the single thing that didn’t go wrong in the wasteland of the world. The ravenette almost considered you not of the world—you were as divine as the angels, after all. Perhaps it was his excuse to add along another duty the Father had commissioned to him—Fyodor would assure your safety and happiness through the rest of time—even once he got his hands on that book.

Because if not plans that surged through his mind, it was his most cherished memories of you.

…

Even though the room wasn’t too hot and the bed wasn’t uncomfortable, you could not go to sleep. You had tried counting sheep in your head for hours, but you still ended up awake well past midnight and had enough sheep for dozens of herds.

You turned over in annoyance before you finally sat up. You didn’t understand why you felt such unease—maybe you drank your coffee too late in the day. A bad decision at that.

You tapped the other side of the bed for a final check. Empty. Fyodor was still up. You would visit him in the office later, but for now, you’d give him the privilege of being unbothered. You decided on another place to visit—somewhere that would calm you down so perhaps you could finally catch slumber.

The personal library.

It was the coziest place, especially during the late hours of the evening, where the lights were warm and dim, not too hard on the eyes. Where the shelves were packed with literature and knowledge permeated the room with its philosophy. Fyodor annotated everything—so most books were scribbled in almost illegible cursive Russian. You always told yourself if you didn’t start to learn his lingo, you would be locked away from the library’s secrets forever.

You tiptoed down the hallway until you reached the door at the end. You were thinking of picking up one of William Shakespeare’s tragedies and reading until either you fell asleep or the sun rose. You prayed it wasn’t the latter—though restless, you were exhausted too. And you didn’t want to suffer the consequences the next day.

However, you were surprised to see the door already narrowly open. The lights were on and the candles were lit, too—was Fyodor not in his office? He seldom worked anywhere else and would always go to you as soon as he finished.

You peeked through the slight crack in the door. He was indeed there—your lover’s back turned towards you, capturing all his charming enigma. How the man carried himself with the poise and elegance of a white dove, despite starting wars among nations. His mouth spoke of divinity while he ravaged the harmony of life with his hands. It was fitting; Fyodor was a juxtaposition in himself—you knew this, and so did he.

“You can come in.” A second of pure silence passed before you opened the door to step inside. Not even a single noise was made, and yet, he recognized your presence.

Almost shyly, you shuffled towards him. You did not plan for Fyodor to catch you—you were still in between deciding whether going inside was worth his lecture.

Because although the handsome workaholic stayed up until absurd hours of the night, he did not want you following his ways.

You circled the lounging area until you were in front of him, who closed the journal he was writing in.

“Lyubov, why are you still awake?” he asked.

Usually, you only stayed up out of anticipation in waiting for his return—whether from a mission or just to the bed. You were so stubborn that Fyodor would actually halt his work for a few days after being gone for awhile to sleep with you so that he was sure you were resting properly.

It was different this time. He had been home for the whole month, and despite being in his office for the majority of this week, you didn’t have any problem with going to bed without him until now.

You shrugged with a quiet, “I’m not sure.” You eyed the unfamiliar journal. “Are you still working?”

“Sort of,” Fyodor replied. “Would you like some chamomile tea? That will help.”

You shook your head. “What do you mean ‘sort of?’ Last time I checked, you were either working or not.”

“It’s not any more important than addressing the current problem at hand,” he calmly dejected the topic, leaving you confused.

“What’s the current problem?”

“You’re awake. You shouldn’t be at this hour.”

“Well, now that I’ve found you here, I don’t think I can return to bed unless you come with me.” You dramatically yawned before stepping closer to him.

“Let’s go sleep, Fedya.” You tried dragging him up by the arm, but he stayed sat on the armchair, much to your disdain.

“I cannot, I’m not done yet,” Fyodor replied. As you froze, he took your hand in his and brought you to his lap.

“However, you must sleep.” He let you shift so that you were comfortable. “You came here to read?”

“Yeah,” you replied as he handed you a book. What a mind reader Fyodor was—you were presented with The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. It would be the perfect reread.

“Why this play?” you tested.

“The pile of books you never put back on the shelves over there shows you’ve been reading a lot of tragedies lately,” he nodded towards the stack of books you read this week. “I thought you’d probably be in the mood for one by none other than the master of catastrophe.

“Plus, it’s fitting for you, too,” he added, voice a bit lower as he fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Hey!” You pouted, moving away from him, pretending you were insulted. Though you knew too that further proved his point.

“Maybe we should act it out,” you joked as you scanned through the pages to find a poem you were familiar with. “Act two, scene two.”

“Hamlet’s letter to Ophelia,” Fyodor recalled.

“Doubt thou the stars are fire;

“doubt that the sun doth move;

“doubt truth to be a liar;

“but never doubt I love.”

“Dlya neye, v iskrennosti,” you squinted, reading the little note by the quote you did not understand. The Russian laughed at your terrible pronunciation.

“Some scholars say that Hamlet used his words toward Ophelia as a manipulation tactic,” he stated. “He had a larger strategy at hand, and he rarely mentioned her unless she was on stage, with the exception of her death. If he harbored such a profound love for her, would Shakespeare not make it more direct? What do you think?”

You contemplated for a few seconds, eyes drifting amongst the shelves of books as you felt your lover behind you gently run his fingers through your hair.

“I think Shakespeare didn’t give us clarity for a reason. I’d like to believe Hamlet did love Ophelia. The story does not revolve around romance, after all—it revolves around revenge. A man with ambitious plans would not have love at the forefront of his head. Or, he wouldn’t speak aloud about it, at the least. Perhaps he was more reserved about that aspect of his life, too—he could’ve been shy to speak about it in front of all aristocracy—like you, for example.”

You giggled with a shrug, expressing your last phrase as lighthearted, but you still earned a slight frown from him. It was amusing that the nationwide terrorist was timid in everything concerning his love life.

“Obviously, it could be taken as manipulation, too,” you continued. “But again, it’s not stated upfront for a reason. Shakespeare mirrors the complexities of a person in real life. You never quite know the truth of other people, no matter how much you think you know them.”

Fyodor nodded, satisfied with your interpretation. “I wholly agree. It is why Shakespeare is enticing to many—he creates characters that simulate life’s universal themes and relatable human emotions when reacting to those situations. I only disagree with one point you made.”

“Which one? You being shy?” you asked. He shook his head with a smile.

“Perhaps I will reward you with that knowledge if you sleep.” He chuckled when you groaned in disappointment.

“How about you just do your work while I read? Then, when you finish, we can leave together.”

“If it were that easy. You’re a distraction, milaya.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, I promise! I originally came here to read anyway—I won’t distract you this time.” You moved to one side of Fyodor’s lap so he would have space to do what he wanted.

He did not answer you, instead making a quiet “tsk” when his fingers caught on a tangle in your hair. Fyodor worked to gently separate the knot. The terrorist was a perfectionist, but the mindset further stemmed past reaching twisted goals to create a world without flaws. Three spoons of jam in his tea, faint scratches on a deck of cards, and ensuring he had the satisfaction of reaching the ends of your hair with his fingertips were a few details he keenly paid mind to.

You took his silence as a comply, and started to play out the tragedy of the Danish prince in your head while your lover brushed through your locks. Eventually, he picked his journal back up and continued to write information you paid no mind to.

…

You did not know how much time passed before you felt your eyes grow heavy. The faint ticks of the clock on the wall combined with the warm candlelight’s glow drew you to slumber. You closed Hamlet and shifted positions until you ended up straddling Fyodor. You buried your face in the crook of his neck until you could see nothing but dark.

“Sonnyy?”

He started stroking his fingers through your hair again, relaxing you even more.

“Lublu tebya, kak angel boga, kak roso lyubit solovey. S toboy vremya ostanavlivaetsya, yi ya zhivu lish mgnoveniam ryadom s toboy.”

However, the sounds of seconds passing by and intimate lighting adorning the room could not compare to the persuasion of your lover’s voice in his mother tongue. Foreign words spilled from his lips as rich as velvet, as soothing as a lullaby. If his voice, in general could put you in a trance, here he harbored the garden serpent’s master of temptation itself. Even if you did not understand him. Worst of all, he knew this. You had fallen into his trap long ago.

“Ya boudou skucha—what are you doing?”

You were drowsily planting kisses on his neck. You stopped once the room became silent and looked up, catching his half-lidded amethyst gaze. The conjurer’s expression was for once softened—or perhaps it had been the entire time you were with him. It was a gift only you were blessed with.

You smiled, a tad smugness in your look, before sitting up and giving him a shy peck on his lips.

For a few seconds, you were both frosted in that moment of time—his hands wrapped around your waist, massaging circles onto your skin under your shirt as you straddled his own, your eyes fixated on his almost surprised, slightly flustered violet stare. The candles illuminated the room in such a way that made you think it was really only you two who existed in the world—your two souls someplace faraway where nothing else mattered but the sounds of your heartbeats and what you would do next after his mouth slightly parted. You were the most beautiful thing Fyodor had laid eyes on, throughout eras of people.

You kissed him for the first time that night, and the ravenette kissed you back. It escalated to become sloppy—you were both too exhausted to care whether your lips were on his or if they instead trailed down to trace his jawline as sharp as those of the greek gods. Or when you were back on your lover’s neck—however, this time almost sucking, mesmerized by how easily you could bruise him. You did not need to wear lipstick to create deep red marks on Fyodor’s pale skin.

“I told you that you’d end up being a distraction.”

You shivered at cold fingertips dancing across your lower abdomen, though they were still quite far from anywhere you wished. You winced when Fyodor bounced you up in order to fix your position, but it offered a different effect.

“Careful,” he warned. “That spot is visible to others.”

Being the leader of the Rats in the House of the Dead and member of organization Decay of Angels placed the Russian at a high status in the underground world. He always restricted the places you could leave visible traces of affection on him whenever he had a new operation in front of him—Fyodor was one to uphold modesty.

You sighed softly before disconnecting your mouth from his neck, only to unbutton the top half of his shirt.

Like his hands, the demon’s heart was cold. He bore at least some sense of insensitivity to death—he had to; granting silence was part of his duty. However, something about you ignited a fire in him out of nothing, out of no help amidst ice—you were not given a flame nor torch to aid you.

If he was the one to destroy the world to pay the price of ridding sin, you were the one who rebuilt creation from the ground and up. You were unfazed by the city ruins; you were unfazed by Fyodor Dostoevsky, the man most feared in the world. A duality: to them, his hands soaked in crimson blood, but to you, they clasped around yours in adoration.

And since he’d met you, his heart was filled with the foreign warmth of love. Accompanied were trust, vulnerability, and your sweet, honey-like kisses that you littered all over his broad shoulders and chest, because he deserved love everywhere.

He whispered against your ear, promising he would indulge you more another day, when you weren’t so sleepy. When both he and the moon had a little more time in the sky, was what he didn’t say. At the same time, he took a free hand to slowly guide your eyes to close, hovering barely above your eyelashes.

You complied, with no more complaints, as he kissed you on the forehead.

…

As Fyodor carried you down the hallway to the bedroom bridal-style about half an hour later, you dozed into dazy consciousness once again.

“You have…another mission, hm?” you whispered, recalling the preceding hints he had given you.

“Yes,” he quietly replied, walking into the dark bedroom. He tucked you under the covers before getting in right beside you.

“Truly, why were you in the library?” you asked, getting out your final curiosity before you fell back to dream.

“I did have a ‘sort-of’ job,” Fyodor replied. “Taking care of you. I was aware you’d show up.”

“Please stay safe, Fedya.”

…

You knew something was off with the thunderstorm that came several weeks later. A vampire apocalypse—however fictitious that sounded—was happening back in Japan, but Fyodor kept you overseas at where you two stayed before departing.

You didn’t ever touch his plans, but your mind finally processed how every event leading up until now seemed so wrong. The month-long stay—Fyodor had never done that before. The week you decided to read tragedies—you felt one even worse than those acted out in the theatre was coming. That night you stayed up—your gut was already screaming that he was about to depart again.

And how this time would be different than before. Your intuition had warned you, yet you still fell asleep and let him leave. You stood before the journal the conjurer made sure caught your eye that night. With shaky hands and heavy rain beating down on the windows, you flipped through the pages. Confusion and tears formed in your eyes at the vague implication of what was written.

Do not worry yourself with the death of all things that are seen and unseen by you. It is not an end, but the start of all things that are left to do.

Rodnaya, you asked what I did not agree with concerning your thoughts about Hamlet loving Ophelia. Have you ever considered a man having both love and ideals at the forefront of his mind? Isn’t love a dream itself?

…

Fyodor swore this when he judged how all could go wrong in the next step of his plan. Prior to meeting you, the calculating, confident smirk he always had on his face was authentic, and he simply assumed he would never fall to a mistake.

But now the plans were adjusted to work around you; the schemes all ended to benefit you, too. If he misjudged something, not only would it fail the perfect world God deemed it to be, but it would also affect you through and through.

Perhaps that was why he only almost saw you as an angel no matter how much you resembled one—no, you were far more glorious than one. You were human—so human that instead of looking down at him from above, you came down onto tainted soil and blessed him with a piece of heaven. Real empathy that now made him think of you as he sat with a rod pierced through his torso in the escape helicopter, doomed to death.

You truly did ruin him.

…

“Is there anything you find more powerful than manipulation?”

And Sigma wondered how such a man so immoral and cruel actually loved someone else. As he searched through the demon's memories, he realized he must go much further back in time to find any helpful information for the brunette ability-nullifier who assigned him.

Because if it was not anything relating to his plans that showed up through his search, it was every memory of you.

translations: (please pardon me if they’re bad, :’) correct me if you are fluent and would like to!)

dlya neye, v iskrennost : for her, in sincerity

sonnyy : sleepy

lublu tebya, kak angel boga, kak roso lyubit solovey. : i love you like an angel loves God, like a nightingale loves a dew.

s toboy vremya ostanavlivaetsya, yi ya zhivu lish mgnoveniam ryadom s toboy. : with you, time stops, and i live only for moments next to you.

ya boudou skucha[t po tebe] : i will miss you.

i heard if you rb, fyodor will come back to life. :’) reblogs are cherished; they are what support me the most. <3

someone should’ve warned me about hozier. only started listening to him last month and i…can’t stop.

#₊ ⊹˚✉︎𑁤 with love; reverie #𐙚 𖥔 ˖ fedya must be fancied .ᐟ #fyodor x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #fyodor fluff #bsd fyodor #fyodor angst #bsd fluff #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs #fyodor fanfic #fyodor imagines #fyodor headcanons #bsd x you #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor bsd #aureatchi

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megxplryxb · 23 days ago

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Someone to Save You

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mostly fluff, slight mention of death (Billy), mention of violence (evil Russians), no use of y/n, set in Season 3.

Notes: Short fic that’s been unfinished in my drafts for far too long and I got tired of seeing it sitting there judging me.

"I guess we're gonna have to find new jobs now huh?" Robin laughs anxiously, brows raised, eyes wide as she tries her best to lighten the mood while you both sit in the back of an ambulance watching on as Hawkins finest attempt to extinguish the flames currently engulfing what remains of the Starcourt mall. It was clear the two of you were still visibly shaken up, trying to come to terms with everything that had happened in the last twenty four hours and a part of you wondered if you were still tripping from the drugs you’d been injected with earlier because there was no way you had actually fought a monster like creature from another dimension back in the food court, let alone gotten kidnapped and held hostage by an army of Russian soldiers.

The sound of sirens echoing throughout the parking lot made you wince as your head pounded in agony from the beating you’d taken at the hands of the guards during their unsuccessful interrogation of yourself and Steve. Looking down to inspect yourself, you see your Scoops uniform covered in blood and vomit, your legs and arms covered in cuts and bruises and the bottom of your lip split wide open, making you wonder how the fuck you had actually managed to make it out in one piece.

It was only supposed to be for fun, trying to translate that stupid Russian code. Something to do to pass the time during your shifts at Scoops Ahoy, a form of entertainment in between having to serve bratty children and stuck up parents their ice cream. It wasn’t meant to end up with you and Steve being beaten to a bloody pulp or with the mall burning down and it certainly wasn’t meant to end with the death of Billy Hargrove. Unfortunately, there was much more going on beneath the surface of Hawkins, Indiana than you could have ever imagined and somehow you’d managed to get yourself directly caught in the crossfire.

"Yeah, it looks like it." You eventually mutter, not really listening to your friend as she rambles on about how the government was going to cover all of this up, long zoned out, too focused on your handsome coworker to care about any cover up story.

Your eyes had been glued to Steve Harrington since the paramedics helped him to another ambulance across the lot to get checked out. Dustin Henderson was standing by his side as always, refusing to leave his friend and hero alone. His face and presumably his body were badly battered after the punishment he had taken during your time in the Russian base, trying his best to protect you and keep you safe. Steve had pleaded with the guards to let you go, promising he’d tell them everything they wanted to know once they guaranteed your safety but you refused to abandon him and in the end, you both suffered the consequences until Robin, Erica and Dustin had come to your eventual rescue.

Watching Steve get knocked unconscious had absolutely terrified you. His lifeless body unresponsive on the floor as you screamed for him to wake up, to move, to do anything just to let you know he was alive. When he finally came to, you wrapped yourself around him, sobbing uncontrollably into his chest with relief when he mumbled that he was ‘ok’, even managing to tease you for being a blubbering mess over him when you always claimed to hate him.

It was true, you did hate him back in High School. Couldn’t stand him or his shitty friends and the way they believed they were actual fucking royalty. But then you graduated, hoping to forget the trauma of Hawkins High, got a job working in Scoops Ahoy and to your utter horror, Steve Harrington was behind the counter wearing a god damn sailor outfit that didn’t even fit him right. Of course, Robin tried to tell you that things were different now, that he wasn’t the same asshole from school. His ‘King’ title long relinquished and his trust fund completely confiscated and in your eyes, it was karma and karma was a bitch. Admittedly, you were also a bitch, refusing to believe he’d actually changed his ways, giving the cold shoulder, throwing a harsh comment whenever the opportunity presented itself. It’s not like he didn’t deserve it and Steve too gave just as good as he got, annoying you on a daily basis, ruining every possible chance you had of a date when someone tried to ask you out, spilling ice cream on your uniform and just making a total nuisance of himself around you.

It’s only when his Dad arrived into the parlour one evening to collect him that you really felt sorry for Steve. His BMW had been in the garage and his Dad walked in, tossing him some clothes to change into before he left the mall, not wanting anyone to see his son “looking like an idiot”. You don’t know why seeing Steve being ridiculed and humiliated by his own Father mad you angry but it did. You could still remember the look on Steve’s face when it happened and a part of you wanted to defend him, to pull him into you and hug him but that would have been weird back then. So you decided to give him a break after that night, finally getting to know him after a longer than usual shift, both of you stuck cleaning up after a birthday party and you realised Robin was right. He had changed. He was kind and sweet and somehow he had six kids who absolutely adored him and the longer you were around him, you couldn’t help but start to adore him too.

“It’s okay to admit that you care about him, y’know?” Robin whispers, nudging your shoulder, shaking you from your thoughts of Steve. “Dingus is a good guy and it’s pretty obvious he cares a lot about you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Robin.” You laugh dismissively, trying to avoid the conversation completely because maybe you weren’t fully ready to admit your feelings to yourself yet.

“Oh please! You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re totally into each other.” She states but you shake your head defensively, hoping it was too dark for her to see the tints of pink on your cheeks.

“No, it’s not like that. I mean, Steve could barely stand to be around me a couple of weeks ago. There’s no way he has actual feelings for me.” You assert but it does little to dissuade Robin who’s had a front row seat to your constant bickering over the last couple of months and while it seemed like you both truly despised each other at the beginning, it became clear to her that you and Steve were hiding behind your real feelings and the last few days only made it all the more obvious.

“Come on, I’ve seen the way he looks at you, the way he gets totally jealous every time Jason Carver comes in to flirt with you. He tries to act like he doesn’t care but his face gives him away every time. Not to mention how happy he was when you fell asleep on his shoulder in that damn elevator, poor guy couldn’t stop gazing at you.” She chuckles as Erica walks towards you both.

“You’re talking about Harrington right? Dustin said he’s totally in love with you and since I’ve spent the last twenty four hours stuck with your insane asses, I’m inclined to agree with him.” The younger Sinclair smirks, folding her arms. You try your best to ignore them both, reverting your gaze back towards the direction of Steve who’s already looking right at you. Dustin is pointing your way, speaking passionately and although you can’t hear what he’s saying, you assume it’s about you because Steve quickly slaps his hand away before rolling his eyes at the younger boy.

“See?” Robin nudges you again. “He keeps looking over here. Just go talk to him, please? Put us all out of our misery.” She begs, giving you puppy dog eyes as Erica whistles at Dustin to call him over, giving him a small thumbs up as he grins widely and starts to make his way over.

“Why do I feel like I’ve just been set up?” You grit your teeth, glaring at your friends.

“Maybe because you have been.” Robin smiles sweetly, shoving you forward as you begin to walk towards Steve. Your stomach twists as you get closer to the boy, hoping you don’t look as anxious as you feel. If everyone else could tell you had feelings for him, wasn’t it likely he knew too?

“If you came over here to tell me I look like shit, you're too late, Henderson already beat you to it.” Steve jokes, looking at you through his one good eye, the other badly swollen as he holds an ice pack to his face, wincing a little from the cool contact.

“Relax Harrington, you’re still annoyingly pretty. I just wanted to make sure you were doing ok.” You say, taking a seat beside him on the edge of the ambulance as he scoots over for you. "Besides, it’s not like I can talk right now, I'm sure I don’t look much better.” You sigh as he scans the injuries on your face, hating himself for getting you caught up in all of this mess.

“Nah, don’t worry. You’re still beautiful .” He smirks, his bruised face still achingly gorgeous in the night sky as you both lock eyes, sitting in silence for a moment before you finally remember to breathe.

Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington had just called you beautiful. You— the girl he once claimed to hate. The girl that used to drive him utterly insane in High School. Shit, in the few short months you’ve worked in Scoops Ahoy with Steve, you’ve heard him use many terms when talking about other girls, ‘hot’ ‘cute’ ‘pretty’ but he’d never used the word beautiful. Did he really think you were beautiful?

“I think you’re still high, Steve.” You blush, placing a strand of hair behind your ear as he shakes his head.

“No. For the first time in a while, I think I’m seeing things pretty clearly actually.” He affirms, too confidently for a guy who looks like he’s just gone ten rounds with Muhammad Ali.

“I’m not sure how that’s possible when you can’t see out of one eye right now but okay.” You giggle and he laughs with you.

“Come on, you know what I mean.” He playfully bumps your shoulder to grab your focus. His caramel eyes moving to your lips before looking back at you again and suddenly there’s a familiar tension in the air between you that you’ve refused to acknowledge before.

“Do I?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you take the ice pack from him, holding it to the side of his face soothingly.

“God I hope so.” He breathes out, lifting his hand to cover yours. You can sense that he’s nervous and you almost want to laugh at how insane this all seems. The thought of Steve Harrington being nervous because of you would have been comical a couple of months ago but here you are, wanting nothing more than for him to kiss you stupid.

“I’m really fucking sorry for getting you guys mixed up in all of this.” He mutters, a guilty look across his face as he lowers his head.

“Hey, no. None of this is your fault Steve. Nobody could have known what was going to happen.” You try to comfort him but he can’t help feel slightly responsible.

“No, I should have known the reason those Russian’s came to Hawkins. I should have known that thing was back. God I’m so stupid!” He spits with anger in his voice, throwing his head back.

“You’re not stupid Steve.” You say softly, gently placing your hand on his thigh.

“Come on honey, you can say it, s’not like I don’t already know.” He half laughs and you hate that he thinks of himself that way, that he thinks you think of him that way.

“I don’t think that Steve, I never thought that. An asshole? Yes. Selfish? Hell yes. But not stupid, never stupid and after actually getting to know you—the real you and not the person you pretended to be in High School, I can safely say I was wrong about who I thought you were.” You admit, finally finding the courage to reach for his hand and intertwining your fingers with his.

“Oh yeah? What changed your mind hmm?” He asks, grinning as he turns his body fully towards you, rubbing his thumb over the delicate skin of your knuckles.

“I’m not sure really, maybe seeing how good of a babysitter you are, how protective you are of all your kids. That might have had a little something to do with it.” You tease as he chuckles with you. “Only a little huh?”

“Well, it might also have something to do with you saving my life. Trying to sacrifice yourself so they’d let me go. That was really brave Steve.” You whisper, trying to stop yourself from getting choked up.

“And it was really stupid of you to refuse.” Steve replies, immediately wiping away the tear he can see trailing down your cheek.

“Hey, if we go down, then we go down together. That’s the Scoops Ahoy! policy remember?” You remind him as he shakes his head at you, cupping your face, caressing the apples of your cheeks. “I don’t know what I’d have done if something bad happened to you. Every time they touched you, every time they even looked at you— god I wanted to fucking kill them.”

“Careful Harrington, it almost sounds like you care about me.” You breathe out, hypnotised by his full pink lips as you realise they’re inching incredibly closer to yours.

“Shit honey, what gave it away?” He smirks at you, finally closing the space between you as his lips gently meet yours in a warm embrace. You can hear the wolf whistles from across the lot, both of you laughing into the kiss as your friends cheer you on and you can’t help feel like a kid playing spin the bottle for the first time.

You eventually break apart when the medic coughs awkwardly, mortified that he’s had to stumble across a make out session as you both try your best to hide your embarrassment, your cheeks flushing bright red.

“Alright Mr Harrington, from what I can see, it looks like you’ve got a bit of a concussion there. I know you mentioned your parents are currently out of town so I think it might be best if we keep you in overnight at the hospital tonight.” The man says as you watch Steve sigh heavily.

“I’m sure I’ll be ok by myself, I’m not really the biggest fan of hospitals sir.” He admits, swallowing hard and you can’t help but be mad at his parents for once again being absent when he needed them.

“I’m really not comfortable with you being alone tonight Mr Harrington, I’d rather you come—“

“He won’t be alone. He can come stay with me, I’ll look after him.” You interrupt, taking Steve’s hand in yours, squeezing it reassuringly. His head turns to you immediately, eyes glossy and mouth open in awe of your kindness, he feels like his heart is going to explode.

“Are, are you sure?” He mumbles, blushing as you kiss him on the cheek.

“Of course I’m sure, I owe you for saving my life. Maybe it’s time, you let someone save you.”

#steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #king steve #steve the hair harrington #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #joe keery

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qwimblenorrisstan · 3 months ago

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Surprise | Soap x Reader

Summary: After a mission that they barely survived, Ghost leads the team to a safe place to stay, his half-sister’s apartment.

Word Count: ~ 1.6k

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, missiles, etc

A/N: first time writing for cod…hope you enjoy, lmk what to do for part 2!! (also here is what I had in mind for the apartment layout, if you’re like me and can’t picture buildings in your head)

Requests are open!

Masterlist | Next

Their mission had gone to complete shit.

It had started relatively simple compared to the other missions they’d been doing, with Russians, cartels, Mexican forces, and whatnot. They’d been shipped out to America, a suspected terrorist group that had been working for General Barkov when he’d been killed.

A group that had now gone rogue, and rumor was that they were headed to Britain, holding a missile for transport that had been stolen from a covert American base. The Americans weren’t taking it too well, but that was to be expected.

“We don’t have enough information to know who they are, you just need to get that missile transported, and get out of there.” Laswell had told them.

“Sounds easy compared to what we do every mornin’, right Lt?” Soap had said with a grin, nudging him with an elbow slightly, and he had only given a grunt in response, still processing information.

“Easy” his arse.

Sent to one of the states at first, they’d tracked down this supposed terrorist group, apparently it being a lot larger than they originally expected. A lot larger.

It was only because of the intel Gaz had gotten his hands on that they’d been able to locate the missile while it moved, it being located in a broken-down warehouse near Galveston, Texas. Right near the Gulf of Mexico, if they were planning on taking it to sea to travel with it.

And when they’d stormed the warehouse?

A total mess. Unorganized and sloppy.

Soap had blown the door, and they’d planted charges around to detonate for the men guarding the missile but had underestimated just how many there would be. It was crawling with them, more confirmation that they’d been informed somehow beforehand of Task Force 141.

Men in vents, ceiling panels, underneath desks, and hiding behind cabinets, doors, anything.

The missile had only been taken out because of air support, the same air support that had nearly been shot down and taken out, when a heli had finally come in to reprieve them while snatching that missile up and getting the hell out of there.

That didn’t solve the problem of the men everywhere, though. The charges that had been meant to blow some to pieces had been botched, and with all the gunfire, they would attract unwanted attention. Police were already investigating, conveniently turning a blind eye to Price and the rest of his force. It wasn’t a coincidence. Not when Shepherd had a history of paying people off to keep them quiet.

But that wasn’t their problem, right now, Ghost was trying to devise a way to get them the hell out of America, or at least out of goddamn Texas. Of all the places to be stuck in.

“Laswell, where the hell is our exfil?”

He radioed over, crouched down on the roof of a building, taking out whoever he could from it. Many of the men in the terrorist group weren’t a bad shot either, so he decided to keep his head relatively low.

“Negative, Ghost.” Price’s voice responded.

“The hell does that mean?”

“We aren’t leaving. Too many men still here, Kate wants us keeping eyes on ‘em.”

“Bloody fucking hell..”

They had decided to regroup at an old church down the road, Soap was a little banged up, with more than a few cuts and bruises, and Gaz dealing with a minor head injury he’d gotten when someone had tried to smash his skull in with a gun, and Price donning a decent sized cut to the arm.

“This is a covert mission. We can’t stay at a hotel or anything of the like, so where are we going?” Gaz asked, and Price paused for a moment, looking a bit unsure, which made sense considering this had been a get-in-get-out mission before it had changed. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Ghost spoke.

“I know someone, but they’re a long ways away.”

~ 3:48 A.M.~

A knock that was more like a banging on your door woke you up from your light sleep as you quietly sat up in your bed, standing and tiptoeing over to the front door of your spacey apartment.

It was large, for the price. But considering you were working for the landlord at a local restaurant, as he was the general manager there as well, it made sense.

The apartment held two spare bedrooms, and a nice living room connected to a kitchen with a table in it you liked using. Two bathrooms, one in the hallway where your room was in, another connected to a guest bedroom. A little balcony, which came in handy when one of your friends wanted a smoke break when over at your place.

Palming the closed hunting knife still connected to your pants and hanging loosely, you figured you were safe enough to answer the door, and looking through the peephole, you saw four men.

Military, and the one in the Ghost mask…

Opening the door, your face now annoyed, you stared him dead in the eye. Didn’t even glance at the others.

“We need a place to stay. A month or two at most.”

His low and rough voice, donning a British accent, said. It was louder than you remembered him being, but then again, he wasn’t the scared little Simon that you’d known anymore, scared of the abusive father you’d both shared. He wasn’t the Simon who mumbled or spoke quietly anymore.

A silent conversation passed between you two at the door, a thick silence passing over the entire group. The other men stared. Your eyes narrowed, a nonverbal question.

Are you on a mission?

He didn’t move for a moment, no doubt thinking of the information he could share with you. Another reason for your eventual fallout, the fact that he wouldn’t ever share with you anything if what he did. It was always to keep you safe.

Eventually, he gave a tiny, near imperceptible nod. On a mission. Of course, he would come to you while on a mission, dragging you into it. It wasn’t like you were helpless against attackers, not at all, but they’d had some crazy shit happen to them over the years, and that was just from what you’d overheard.

With a resigned sigh, you looked over at the other men he’d brought.

A taller man, with a beard, and a bucket hat. He looked like he had authority. A man on the shorter end, with some scruff, a mohawk, and a poorly restrained cheeky smile. The last man was darker, an almost caramel brown, with short hair, cleanly shaven, and a hat on.

Military men, clearly, but if Simon was willing to trust them around you, then you didn’t count them much as a threat right now.

“Names.”

You said flatly, and the Mohawk-one’s brows raised before replying.

“You can call me Soap-“

“I mean your name, not your shitty military nickname.”

You interrupted bluntly, clearly not in the best mood after being woken at 3 AM because of Simon Riley. “Soap” raised his hands in a mock gesture of innocence.

“Easy, lass. It’s Johnny, if you must know.”

Scottish, then. You could tell by the accent. The taller one spoke.

“John Price.”

The prettiest of the group spoke with a little smile that could’ve fooled you for not being faked.

“Kyle.”

Giving them all one last flat, surveying look, you jerked your head into the apartment, walking in.

“Two guest bedrooms down that way, bathrooms down the hall, there’s a balcony if you want a second exit. Don’t break anything.”

You said simply, and they walked in, looking tired as hell and covered in bandages. However, you weren’t going to let this go. Not right now.

You grabbed Simon by the arm, and he stiffened, stopping.

“You and I are going to have a little talk, Simon.” You said, dragging him into your room, and shutting the door behind you as he sighed, pulling his mask off. Blond hair and lashes came into view, as well as baby blue eyes.

“What the fuck were you thinking, bringing-“

You began, pissed as hell. He hadn’t contacted you in years, not since his mom had died, and with your shared father already dead, you’d been shoved into foster care.

“We’re all injured. We can’t stay anywhere we can be easily found. This area isn’t as well registered, and we’ll be gone in a month.” He spoke simply as if it wasn’t anything to get upset or emotional about.

You took a breath and breathed it out. Stay calm.

“I’m not talking about the mission, Simon.”

He seemed unused to being called his real name. At least, by the stiffening of his shoulders, you guessed so.

“There’s nothing else to talk about.”

He said gruffly, turning to open the door and leave. You stepped in his way, and he stared down at you, unamused. You were barely 5’6, and he was 6’2, so it was quite the height difference.

“You can’t run from your problems forever, Simon.”

You said, hands on your hips, and he simply picked you up, placing you beside him as he opened the door and walked out. Always running from his problems.

It was surprisingly unsurprising.

~ 4:07 A.M.~

“You want to explain who the hell that is, Simon?”

Price asked gruffly from where they were all gathered in one of the guest rooms. Simon paused his quiet pacing for a moment to reply.

“My half-sister.” He answered, and a silence fell over at that. The only sibling they knew he had was Tommy, and Tommy was long dead at that. A few seconds passed, before Soap, in the bathroom connected to this particular guest room, combing his Mohawk and going through his haircare routine, spoke up.

“She’s a real bonnie lass.” Johnny said with a grin, and Simon sighed.

“English, MacTavish.”

“She’s hot as fuck, sir.” The Scotsman said, and there was a small, disappointed sigh from Gaz, who already knew he’d have to patch up Soap from Ghost, who was fuming silently.

#cod mwii #ghost cod #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #task force 141 #tf 141 #johnny x reader #soap call of duty #soap x reader

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mezzy-1 · 10 months ago

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VALORANT MEETING + DATE HEADCANONS

Hope you enjoy!

SOVA

He was finishing recon in a snowy forest late at night and was done for the day. He outstretched his arm and sent out the Owl Drone

So far, you had been hiking for about 8 hours through frigid woods and gotten lost about 2 hours earlier. You were trying to make camp for the night but failing to start a fire

You caught a glimpse of Sova’s drone and followed it back to the man, who immediately regarded you with some suspicion but could see you were of his dimension

Deciding to keep an eye on you, he led you back to his campsite and helped you set up your tent next to his

He was kind, and he quietly offered you a seat next to him by the fire. Both of you sat awkwardly at first, not quite sure how to handle the silence

“Do you do archery out here? I noticed the bow and wanted to ask…” you trailed off as he looked at you

He removed the bow and two arrows from his sling. “Would you like a look at them?” You moved closer and inspected them. The technology was intricate but your eyes wandered over to the man sitting close to you

“What brings you out here?”

“I wanted to do the Blue Lakes trail but I got lost a while back. I was planning on stargazing at the top but…” you gestured to your compass, “I got lost”

“I leave here tomorrow, and I can show you to the trail if you would like.” Sova offered

You accepted his offer and both of you went to your tents for the night

Humiliatingly, the trail back was marked but Sova didn’t seem to care that you got lost so easily. The two of you just chatted about the surroundings while traveling onward

At the trailhead, you had to part ways. But it didn’t have to be the end, and you made a fast decision and asked to see him again

“I’d love to! What did you have in mind?”

Sova Date

At the trailhead, you finished tying your boots before a familiar voice called out

“Hello y/n! Should we start walking?” Sova had dressed in pants and a blue flannel jacket

Both of you continued up to a clearing in the forest, just as the sun was begging to set

You laid out a large blanket from your pack and set it down. Sova took out a pair of bags and bottles of water

You hadn’t expected him to bring home cooked food, but you weren’t complaining either

Sova and you made yourselves comfortable, and ate while you waited for the evening to turn to night

Conversing with him was always peaceful. He listened deeply and always responded with optimism or curiosity

The North Star was the first to appear, followed by a few faint constellations

Within an hour, the sky was overrun with stars. Each point of light layered on another creating a portrait of the galaxy

Sova and you took turns pointing out constellations, each time trying to remember what each star was named

Both of you relied on the book of astronomy you brought along to figure out what was in the sky

Sova had an understanding of stars to navigate, and would name stars in Russian or translate what he could

Although you and him were occupied with stargazing, you started to succumb to the cold of the night

“Y/N, are you cold?”

“No, it’s nothing you need to-”

Sova took his jacket off and place it on you. The lining inside was warm from Sova’s body heat

“Are you still cold? Come here, and stay close to me.” Sova gestured for you to join his side

For the rest of the night, you and him stayed in almost constant contact until you both decided to head back

You followed behind Sova, his sense of direction and torch lit the way. Despite being deep in the wilderness, you felt safe in his presence

When you arrived at the trailhead, Sova said his goodbyes. He made sure you would arrive home safely before leaving. His jacket was still on you

“Sova, you forgot this.” you held his jacket out to him.

“Keep it Y/N, I want you to have it for the next outing. I hope it brings you much warmth and comfort while I am away.”

“Here’s something to remind you of me.” you gave Sova a kiss

He was a blushing mess, and held you close before departing back to the Valorant HQ

While you traveled back to your home, you ran your fingers over the soft material of Sova’s jacket. It smelled faintly of him

DEADLOCK

You were in LA when the Landfall facility erupted and you were caught in the crossfire of Omega and Alpha variants. A single Shock Arrow went off course and hit you with enough voltage to knock you out

Once you came to, Deadlock had finished performing CPR on you, including mouth to mouth.

When you came to, your face was covered in blonde locks of hair, gazing into eyes with intense blue irises, and her body pressed against yours

Iselin was red in the face, and so were you. Perhaps for the same reason…

Other agents were finishing off the Omega team, Iselin didn’t really have anything else to worry about other than stabilizing you

“Can you tell me your name?” she asked, hoping to establish if you were coherent

You replied perfectly, and set her at ease. Then you had an idea, and asked for her name

“Deadlo- Iselin, my name is Iselin” she responded

Because you managed to get at least a name, you pressed your luck and asked more about her

“That will have to wait, we’re taking you a hospital to make sure you weren’t injured in any other way”

Sage gave you a check up and confirmed you were fine, then hooked up a heart monitor before leaving to inspect other agents

Iselin walked over to see how you were doing, then sat next to your cot. It was another chance to get to see her and you tried to converse politely with her

As you chatted she kept looking over your shoulder to something, all while still remaining invested in your conversation

“Do I make you nervous?” She asked softly

“What! No! Why would you think that?” you quickly answered back

“It’s just that the monitor says you have an elevated heart rate.”

Looking behind you, the screen did show you that weren’t as relaxed

“Oh!” you exclaimed, “It’s just that, I find you kind of… attractive”

The machine was beeping rapidly now, but not detracting from the silence that swallowed the moment between you and Iselin. She spoke first

“Would you like to spend some time together then?” she was blushing as much as you

As you walked out of the clinic, you made plans to see her again

Deadlock Date

You and Iselin decided to meet at a Valorant safehouse that Cypher had once used. He promised he removed all the cameras

She had prepared some ingredients for dinner you could cook together. Cooking was something she did with her old team

Because you were in LA still, she managed to find fresh salmon at a market and decided to cook it

She gutted it in front of you, and taught you how to debone, clean and prepare the fish. Her skill with the knife was amazing, if not intimidating

You asked a for some help and she took your hand, showing you the right way to cut

The rest of the preparation was easier, requiring less input. It was during this that you talked to Iselin

For her, it was refreshing to find someone who didn’t know about her past, the trauma she’d endured, and could let in gradually

You came to understand that she was ex-military but nothing official. Her main expertise was in tracking and scouting, which you decided to test

You’d ask about urban legends or survival stories and she’d debunk them or let in on a fact about hunting

The incredulous reactions you had managed to coax a smile out of her

As dinner began, you both started sharing more personal stories and began to get more well-acquainted with the other’s background

Iselin bristled when you asked why she was with Valorant, and she decided to say as much as she could stomach

“I had something happen to me and they were there for me.” Her eyes darted to her prosthetic arm

There was a moment of silence, tension rose

“I’m glad they were there for you, if they weren’t I don’t think I would have met you.”

The words touched Iselin deeply, and she could only utter out a phrase

“Tusen takk.” she smiled up at you

As you finished your dinner you both had easier conversations about personal tastes. It was here you found that Iselin enjoyed hiking

“Would you like to go hiking with me?” you asked tentatively

Iselin’s face lit up and she quickly responded with “Ja takk!”

Sadly she had to leave soon and you both exited the safehouse. Iselin turned to you as you closed the door

“Y/N, thank you. It hasn’t been easy to let people get close but you’ve helped me relax a bit. I won’t forget you y/n.”

You got the sense Iselin was signaling something, and you leaned in. She kissed you and held you close, then cautiously let go

She left you the same way she found you: breathless

ISO

Your day at work had come to an end, and you stepped off of your bus preparing to walk the rest of the way home

Iso’s had already began, as he was chasing down a member of his past corporation. He had finished off their friends, now it was time to end them

His target had managed to jump out of the window to avoid capture, but Iso didn’t let up even as their chase took them onto the street

A small commotion occurred as Iso’s prey shoved you to put distance between his assassin

As they ran past you, one of Iso’s headphones fell out

Right in front of you as he ran into an alley from your sight

What else were you to do? Of course you had to return it to him (not because you wanted to get a better look at him)

You began to head towards the alley to see if you could catch Iso in time. Meanwhile Iso put his abilities into practice

Iso’s target fell right into the Kill Contract, and the assassin stepped into the space disappearing into the Interverse

Of course you didn’t see anything, just a few strange purple particles floating through the air nearby

By the time he stepped out of his Kill Contract he ran right into you and you both fell over

Iso was bewildered and worried a civilian had discovered his secret

He and you caught a glimpse of each other and stopped struggling

Sheepishly, you handed him back his headphone and he took it back while being careful to hide the pistol he had in his coat

After helping you to your feet, you asked him what he was listening to and his reply of 99 God was a welcome surprise

“Wait, do you like his music too?” you asked

“Of course, I’ve been to some of his shows too. I have playlists full of him.”

You just happened to have 2 tickets to a concert of his, and seizing on the opportunity you asked if he would be interested

It was a yes

Iso Date

At the concert, you met Iso at the front before walking in together. The ticket staff asked if you were a couple while scanning your passes

Iso blushed immediately and you felt your soul vacate your body

“Ye- maybe?” “Well it wouldn’t be that, b-” “Uh I think so?”

You both hurried in to the concert and got over the shock

“That was kind of awkward right? Who even asks that kind of question?” Iso broke the tension

“I don’t understand people sometimes.” you replied

Eventually that faded into background as the music started, it was a something else to focus on

You and Iso joined the crowd in excitement, dancing and singing to the music that leapt from the speakers

The opening set was absolutely worth the ticket cost

“THIS IS AMAZING!” you cried out. Iso agreed emphatically

Lost in the moment, you watched Iso feeling the rhythm as purple lights from a nearby projector shown on the crowd

You gazed at him in awe as violet lasers ran over both of your faces, he stared back with equal entrancement

Deciding to embrace the moment, you both stole a quick kiss when smoke machines shrouded the crowd and the show ended

On your way out, Iso and you both talked about your favorite songs, the performance, and the special effects

“This was a great night y/n, we should do something like this again.”

Barely holding back your excitement, you kissed him again before heading home

Iso walked back home listening to a track titled “Songs for Y/N”

Being a hitman was a lonely job, and even since he had joined Valorant he still lacked closeness. Luckily, he had found you

GEKKO

Thrash had gotten away from him while he was out running a few errands, and he was worrying at this point

He heard the sound of the creature knocking over cans and moving around the isles. He dashed over to see her pouncing from a shelf into a cart

Your cart

She didn’t revert to a globule, but instead curled up into the cart along with your groceries. Gekko was beyond panicked at this point

You cautiously reached down and tapped on the critter, and when it nuzzled your hand you started to pet it

Gekko was astounded by Thrash getting along with someone, and stood there in awe as you picked her up and continued to scratch her belly

You noticed him staring at you with his jaw hanging open

“Uh, is this yours?” you asked while handing Thrash over to him. She flew into Gekko’s satchel excitedly

“Uh, yeah, thanks for catching her. I never see her get along with other people so it’s kind of weird to see her like this. The rest of my crew is a lot more chill.”

“The rest of your crew?” you asked. Gekko realized he said too much at that point

“Well I’m not supposed to talk about it but…a no la importa ahorita.” he summoned Wingman and placed him in your hands

You saw your chance and took it

“I’d love to get to them and you too if you wanted to do something some time.”

Gekko went red, then smiled

“Meet me tomorrow evening at the Kingdom train depot, past the security fence.”

It was a date, one you were eager for but slightly worried about

Gekko Date

Following Gekko’s instructions was easy enough, getting into the trainyard was easy but the fear of being caught was palpable

It was kind of a rush though, sneaking by all of the cameras and guards. You knelt down behind some crates and let out a sigh

A finger tapped on your shoulder and you twisted around in fear

“Oye, calma!” Gekko whispered. “It’s me, you can chill.” He smiled at you and gestured to a bag you carried

It was filled with spray paints of different colors rattled around inside. Gekko walked you over to a train car he had already covered in stencils

He grabbed 2 cans gleefully and shook them together. He tossed the other to you and grinned. “Lista? Let’s do this.”

You both got to work, assisted by Wingman to keep watch and hand paint cans. Deep blues and electric greens covered the car at first, followed by pastel violets.

Cans of paint traded hands, fingers brushing near but never touching. Until Gekko looked up at the top stencil and had an idea

He hoisted you up on his shoulders and had you paint it. Wobbling back and forth, you sprayed the last parts of the design before he cautiously let you down

“Ok, I want you to close your eyes alright?” Gekko pleaded. “Wait up, okay 3. 2. 1”

Your eyes opened and saw the beauty you and him created together

It was a scene of a jungle at night, navy blue foliage covering up most of it while neon green fireflies dotted the mural. In the middle was a prowling jaguar with a cub between its front legs

“It’s beautiful…” you whispered

“you are too” whispered Gekko. Wingman abruptly pushed you both together and you met each other’s gaze

Both of you kissed each other quickly before blushing and quickly breaking down into embarrassed apologies

“You, I. We should, do this more right?”

“Yeah, por supuesto”

Wingman lived up to his name that night

CHAMBER

You’d met at after a charity dinner hosted by Kingdom, and it was the most boring thing you’d ever attended

It was a show of corporate goodwill but mainly to placate the public. The only reason you showed up is because the donations went straight to your city

Plus free wine, which you had taken and were drinking on a balcony that gave you some space from everyone else

“Fait froid non?”

You turned to see a tall man dressed in a fine suit and prismatic tie, his hand extended in greeting

“Vincent Fabron, enchante”

He took your hand, refraining from kissing it and instead shooting you a flirtatious grin

He made small talk with you about the event, and brought up that he had been with Kingdom as a guest. Both of you started talking about each other's lives

Fabron asked if you had a partner

You blushed a bit and replied “no,” to which he responded “Tres bien, then would you be free for dinner sometime this week?”

You were taken aback by how forward he was, but then again he was a gentleman and quite handsome

A digital chime broke the silence and Fabron checked his wristwatch. An alert was going off, accompanied by some V-shaped sign

“I look forward to meeting you once more,” he gestured to his watch, “but I am afraid I have some responsibilities to tend to. Au revoir”

He waved at you as he went back inside and disappeared

In your hands was the card, which had the address of a high end restaurant and a time written on it. The other side was the business card of Vincent ‘Chamber’ Fabron

Chamber Date

Dressed in your finest clothing, you waited outside of the restaurant building but were unsure where Chamber was

You pulled out the card to see if you had made a mistake and noticed a colorful glow coming from it

In a flash of radiant energy you were teleported, right into a private room with Vincent waiting

“Bonne nuit, I hope the teleportation was comfortable. Let me get your seat.”

Vincent had finished lighting candles, setting plates, and took your coat before seating you across from him

You sat down to a prepared dinner of salad, coq au vin, and fresh bread

Vincent pressed something on his watch, then teleported a bottle of red wine to his hand and opened it. He poured your glass and sat down as he poured his own

He began asking more about your life, interests, and even a few intimate questions

You naturally responded with your own questions, learning about his time at Kingdom and even a little about his time with Valorant

He asked about your life some more, not forgetting any of the details you told him the first time you met

By the time you both had finished the wine, it felt as if you knew the other as lifelong partners. Vincent was listening to you explain something, but you became nervous

“Am I boring you? I didn’t mean to-”

“I assure you, nothing you do could ever be boring. There’s nobody more invested in you than me, Y/N.”

You were taken aback, and felt a spark of something. On an impulse you leaned in

Chambers' lips met yours and both of you kissed, he had found a private room so the moment you both shared was only yours to know

When you finished, Vincent sat back confidently with a somewhat knowing, if not smug, look on his face

“I’ve been waiting for you to do that all night”

FADE

Istanbul is a lively city, so the few places that offered a bit of peace were an oasis. One such oasis was a bookstore in Kadikoy

You had paged through books but hadn’t really found anything that piqued your interest yet. The saturation of supernatural romances and dystopian teen novels wasn’t helping

A woman with dark hair was also reading through another book, but unlike you was invested. She sat at a table with a glass of warm tea

Her hands obscured the title, but you wanted to know if it was worth reading

Not like you had other reasons

“Uhh hi, what are you reading?”

You came face to face with mismatched eyes and a curious stare

“Dune,” she moved her hand to let you see the cover, “I’ve had it recommended to me by friends. It’s quite good.”

You instinctively replied, “I know right, especially when Paul-” you cut yourself off before spoiling the book

Fade wasn’t normally in a mood to talk with strangers, but something about you was different to her

Normally she could feel fear emanate from people near her, however she didn’t get any sense you held fear

Of course this intrigued her

“Do you come to this store often? I come here often but I haven’t seen you here before.”

You told her you were visiting for the first time but often went to another store that closed

“So you read often, what genre is your favorite?” she had set down her book

“I prefer science fiction, but I’ll read anything with good characters.” you replied. “What do you prefer?”

“The same, although I’ll read anything when I have the chance.” she took a sip from her glass

Just as she finished, one of Istanbul’s many cats entered the store. A calico covered in large orange spots and one giant black spot across its back

It came up to you and began rubbing against your legs. Then it came over to Fade and did the same

“She seems to like you,” you mentioned before Fade took the calico and fed it something from her bag. She held it in her lap as it chewed on whatever it was eating

“Come, she is friendly.” Fade invited you next to her. Obliging, you sat down and started petting the cat

“What is your name?”

“Hazal”

“And you are?”

“Y/N,” you took your chance, “Would you want to get khave some time and talk a bit more?”

“Evet, that sounds lovely”

Fade Date

The neighborhood of Moda provided the perfect place to reacquaint yourself with Hazal

Naturally as you were on your way over, Hazal found you first. The woman is a bounty hunter after all

“Merhaba!” Hazal surprised you and led you into a small cafe. There were only a few other customers, leaving you and her mostly alone

She ordered khave, and you ordered the same. The Turkish coffee brought to you was the first you ever had

It was like drinking coffee grounds and pure caffeine in a cup. It was an acquired taste but very easy to acquire

Hazal and you talked about books you had read recently. You compared some of the adaptations you both saw in theaters, agreeing mostly that the books were better

The conversation moved to life, and you asked about what Hazal did. She mentioned that she did ‘private investigation’ but now works with a private security organization

It was a secretive topic, but you were fine with her answer. It was more important to focus on the future

“Y/N, have you ever had your fortune read?” Hazal asked

“Not really, do you know how to tell the future?” you replied, you were curious at this point

Hazal pointed to your empty cup

You passed it over to her and she looked it over. She searched it over and then set it in the middle of the table

“I see in your future…a deep unrest and sudden death.” She turned up to you with a dire look in her eyes

“I’m going to die?” you asked. Hazal’s facade broke and she laughed a bit

“Hayir, relax, it is only a joke. In fact you’ll like the reading better now.”

You calmed a bit, and laughed a bit at how she managed to mess with you

“It seems like you’re going to go through some change, brought on by things beyond your control.” she paused to look over the coffee cup, “But something will bring you great solace during this.”

“I wish I knew what that something was. Do you see anything else about it?” you asked

“Well I have one theory,” Hazal pointed to herself, “It could be someone, not something.”

You decided to flirt a bit more, “And who could that be?”

“Someone close, someone mysterious maybe? They could even be right here.”

“I’d bet they’d even go for a kiss if given the chance,” you caught Hazal leaning in as you said it

You shared a kiss with her, the first of many

VIPER

She rarely ventured outside of her lab and between running Valorant and missions, she had to keep her time off brief and tended to try keep a low profile

Her time outside of the HQ was generally spent visiting parts of the world and visiting art museums

Viper had a particular love of the arts, and museums were often silent so there was little interference from other people

Except for you

She was observing Goya’s Black Paintings, specifically Saturn Devouring His Son. It’s savagery was overwhelming and therefore intrigued her

You sat down on a bench to observe it as well, and maybe the other person in here with you. The grotesque painting was enthralling, if not disturbing to think about

Then she sat down next to you, and you tried to keep your eyes on the painting. It was impossible not to dart your eyes over to her

“Why do you keep looking at me?” Viper spoke in a bitter tone

Thinking as fast as you could you explained that you weren’t looking at her per say, rather just the…painting behind her. You were looking over at Duelo a Garrotazos

She raised an eyebrow and sighed, “That’s an awful lie.”

To prove your innocence you went into detail about what you knew about the painting: History, interpretation, value, and origin.

Sabine’s suspicion turned to interest

“You know art quite well, is it a passion of yours or a profession?”

“Just a passion, and I wasn’t trying to stare at you.”

“I’m not as concerned with that anymore, what I am curious about is what brings you here.”

“Just wanted to look at the collection. By the way, I never got your name.”

“Sabine, and yours is?”

“Y/N”

“Have you ever painted before Y/N? Or are you mostly a critic?” Sabine’s intense green eyes studied your reaction

“Only a little bit, but I enjoy it when I have the chance.”

“Would you be interested in joining me at a studio sometime this week? I rented a space.”

Caught off guard, you quickly asked if she was trying to ask you out. She was less interrogative now, and being genuine in her offer

“I would love to.” you answered.

An alert from Sabine’s phone broke the moment. Her face contorted into exasperation, and she quickly texted something back.

“It appears I have something to attend to Y/N. We should discuss this later.”

Sabine handed you a page from a pocket book with her number, and after she took one last look at the gallery, left the museum

As she left, you heard her mutter something about her lab and ‘Phoenix,’ whatever that meant

Her leaving was a bit abrupt, but you would be seeing her again and you could hardly wait

Viper Date

Viper didn’t tell anyone about your date except for Brimstone

In her space she had assembled what she could for a still life: a few beakers and a collection of poisonous flowers like Oleandar, Belladonna, and Hemlock

Her arrangement was of flowers sticking out of scientific glasses. It wasn’t the most ornate but it did offer plenty to paint

Knocking several times, you waited outside for Sabine to let you in. She greeted you with a softer tone than at the museum

You began assembling your palette with Sabine. You went for realistic colors, she went for darker variants

Each of you took a couple of brushes, dipped them in a glob of paint, and began your still-lifes

As you painted, you started discussing what each of you did for work, then chatted about art and world events

Both of you blamed Kingdom for much of the world’s current issues, and Sabine shared stories from when she worked for them

Some of them were definitely a little worrying, considering she had not only slightly poisoned coworkers but avoided being fired in doing so

Her understanding of chemistry was incredible to listen too, she had a clear passion for it

“Why do you like working with poison so much?”

“I’m good at it, there’s not much more to it,” she paused, assessing her answer,

“But I guess I enjoy what they mean to us. We fear them because we don’t understand them, but once we do they control life and death. I like that, the power they give to those willing to take it.”

“So you think of what you do as a way to help people, but using something that people don’t trust.”

“I suppose so.”

“Do you ever feel alone then?” Sabine paused mid brushstroke, “It must be difficult having interests people are afraid of.”

“It can be Y/N, but I’ve found it isn’t as bad anymore. Poisons have their place in my life, people are earning theirs.” She went back to her palette

You added in more pastels to make the flowers stand out against the background

Once you were done, you shared the results with one another. Yours was more bright, and had heavier detail. Sabine’s was more abstract, focusing on brush strokes and tone

At the end, you both exchanged the paintings as a parting gift

Sabine cautiously asked if you would like to have dinner some time. She picked at one of her nails waiting for a response

“Of course!” you replied. Then leaned in and gave a Sabine a quick peck on the cheek

She could hardly get a word out

You and her left the studio planning on dinner and more art nights in the future. You had settled on portraits next

Sabine later thought about asking you pose nude for a portrait but dismissed the thought

CYPHER

Normally, you tried to stay away from explosions, gunfire, and energy blasts. While slipping away you were caught in a leftover trip wire you didn’t see

The wire had tangled your legs, and forced you on the ground

You were frantically struggling against the wires when you heard footsteps

“Well, well, it appears a fly has gotten caught in my web. Let’s see who it is.” a voice coldly whispered

A man in a white coat and hat stepped from behind the corner with a gun drawn. His eyes were hidden by a dark mask, mechanical blue eyes took their place. Unfeeling

At least until he saw you. Despite the mask you saw the shock take hold immediately

“Oh, apologies,” he reached his hand out and retrieved the wire, “I wasn’t expecting others to get caught”

The initial fear you had turned to confusion

“Who are you?” you asked

“I prefer people I don’t know to call me Cypher. Allow me to lead you out of here.”

His offer seemed genuine and you didn’t have any other choice but to follow him into a hidden room where he sat you down

“I didn’t mean to catch you, I hope it was not uncomfortable.” he sounded regretful, and seemed to truly care about you

“Here,” he handed you your phone, “you dropped this while you were struggling.”

As you checked your phone over, you noticed the screen was glitching out. It was randomly receiving and exporting data

Your savior/captor was entering something into a desktop set up in the room. He was typing up something while you scrutinized your phone

Cypher turned back to you, and you caught a glance of a computer screen. It read: SECURED DATA

“So, Y/N. What brought you out here? I know you aren’t a threat, but I’m still going to make sure you don’t reveal anything to someone else.”

“How did you know my name?” Cypher pointed at your glitching phone. “You hacked my phone?”

“No, I bugged it. Check the back, I planted it there when I handed it to you. I wanted to make sure you weren’t spying.”

A small silver disc clung to the back of your phone. You struggled to pull it off, so Cypher offered to help

“You don’t need to worry about me holding onto any of your secrets, I cleared the data once I was done.”

“Do you always hack people's phones when you meet them?”

“Yes.” Cypher’s answer was completely serious, not a hint of sarcasm

You asked more questions, getting a better idea of who this mysterious man was. It was difficult to get clear answers

“Y/N, I trade secrets for a living. Give me something and I’ll give you something.”

You thought intensely, then it hit you

“I’ll tell you anything about me you want, but on one condition.”

Cypher’s interest piqued. He leaned in to meet your gaze

“If you take me somewhere that means something to you, you can interrogate me as much as you want.”

His mask stretched in brief surprise, then slyly relaxed as he sat back in his seat. He clasped his hands together

“You surprised me with that Y/N. It’s hard to surprise me, so I’ll take you up on your little interrogation.”

Cypher Date

Cypher’s coordinates and description were slightly difficult to follow, but regardless you managed to get there on time

You asked for the second floor room in the tea shop, and were led up some stairs into a room with cushions, drawn shades, and hanging lamps

The entire room was bathed in dim colorful light and smelled faintly of mint

Next to the table was Cypher, his mask undone but eyes covered with glasses

“Ah, Y/N! Have a seat, the tea was just brought up.” he gestured to a silver tea pot

You placed yourself across from him and watched as he poured a cup of tea, taking care to stretch his arm upwards to let the tea cool as it fell

He passed the cup to you and motioned for you to drink. You took a small sip from the steaming broth

It was the best thing you had ever tasted. It was sweet like honey but had a distinct taste of mint. Moroccan tea was your new favorite drink to say the least

Cypher enjoyed it with you

“So, even though I may have researched you for security I sadly didn’t get to know you that well. Tell me more about you.”

You told him about what you did for work, and the places you had traveled to. Cypher probably knew about it but was still invested

He had his fair share of stories too. A life of information brokering and spying left him with some incredible tales

His ability to make you hang on every word was unlike anything you had heard before. The man was a natural storyteller, and invested you quickly

By the time you and Cypher had finished most of the tea, it was getting late and you were beginning to learn more about Cypher’s personal life

“Can I trust you with something Y/N?” Cypher removed his glasses to look at you clearly. His eyes were a deep shade of mahogany

“Sure, I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to.”

“My name, my real name, is Amir. People who are close to me know it, I believe you should know who I am too.”

“Amir,” you said while getting closer, “that’s a beautiful name. I’m glad you trust me with it.”

Amir and you said your goodbyes outside of the tea shop, using his alias of course

“Cypher, before you leave again I wanted to thank you for saving me.”

“It was no-”

You kissed him while you had the chance. You did want to thank him after all

Amir was more than receptive to it, and you eventually had to break it off. Glasses hid his eyes, but not his excitement

You had captured him this time

YORU

You heard the sound of something falling over and metallic components spilling everywhere

Readying a baseball bat, you flung the door open and prepared to swing

Instead of a thief or even an animal, you were face to face with an oni. Spectral blue energy spilled from the out from the portal it was clawing its way out of

Its bright blue eyes glowed with power, and it stepped through the portal towards you

In your panic you swung and hit him in the ribs

“KUSO! THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM!”

On closer inspection, the ‘oni’ from before was a man in a bike jacket and wearing a mask. It didn’t change the fact he was in your garage

“Who are you and why are you in my garage?” You readied another swing

“Yoru, and I just teleported here because I was making an escape. I didn’t think anyone was home.”

After a few seconds, Yoru tried to get back up but stumbled. A red stain on his shirt gave away why

“Did you get shot?”

“What of it? You hit me with a bat so I don’t get why you give a shit.”

You realized that not only was Yoru wounded, he was also unarmed too. He had nothing aside from the mask he wore

“Stay here, I’m gonna get you some bandages and gauze.”

“I don’t need that. I’ll manage without you, plus I don’t think you know what you’re doing. No offense but I’m not gonna take help from-”

Yoru winced as you applied rubbing alcohol to the wound. He inhaled sharply as you cleaned the bullet hole and applied aid

Once you had patched him up, he sat in the garage across from you

“So what’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Do you always beat your patients before helping them out? Or are you that bad at first aid?”

“You wear that mask because you got a messed up face?” you weren’t about to take insults from Yoru after you saved him

He removed the mask, and to your shock he was quite good looking. He continued to scowl at you between sarcastic comments

He noticed the motorcycle in the garage, and gestured to it

“Oi Y/N. That yours?”

“Yes, why are you asking?”

“I ride too,” Yoru adjusted his bandage before standing up, “looks like yours has got a bit damage.”

It was true, the motorcycle needed repairs and it was a chore to look up videos and learn to fix it. It was good to learn, but time consuming

“I could look it over,” Yoru smirked at you, “but I’m not feeling so grateful right now.”

“Then you can come back later as thanks for me patching that hole in your stomach. Sound good?”

Yoru was surprised at the offer, and despite his outward personality did retain a sense of politeness from his time as a yakuza

“I could come by again. If I teleport in, you better not lose your mind again and hit me. That pissed me off last time.”

“I’ll get it out if you forget to come by.”

“You’ve got a deal, Y/N.”

Yoru Date

Yoru teleported into the garage later than when he said he would. A blue flash alerted you to his arrival

He went over to your toolbox, taking wrenches out and checking the sizes of bolts. He also removed his jacket, placing it nearby

“Start it up, I wanna hear the engine.” Yoru tossed you the keys. The sputtering of the engine was not a great sign

“It’s the carburetor,” Yoru was absolutely certain in his voice

You and him got to work taking apart the bike and getting into the engine. It was an older model of motorcycle, but Yoru seemed to know exactly what to take apart

Both of you finally got to the engine, and removed part of the engine block to get to the carburetor

“We need to replace it. Give me a second, don’t touch anything else.” Yoru disappeared into a portal

In the minute he was gone, the engine began to ooze black fluid. You rolled your sleeves up and started to remove the engine block to keep it from leaking more

Yoru stepped back, holding a replacement carburetor

“What are you doing?”

“The engine is leaking oil, I took it out so nothing else gets oil on it.”

He got down to look at engine you removed, his disapproval turning to satisfaction. He picked up a wrench and handed it to you

“Take the rest of it apart, we’re fixing the whole block. After that, we’re gonna do everything else.”

After a few hours, the bike engine, tires, and suspension were replaced with new versions. Yoru even stole some paint and redid the color on the bike

He got on the bike and started it. A smooth growl came from the new engine

“Hop on, Y/N. You and I are gonna make sure nothing’s wrong with the bike.” you both grabbed helmets

You got behind Yoru and held yourself close to his back. Your hands were firmly around his torso

He revved the engine and peeled out of the garage. Yoru sped towards the highway and weaved between cars

Street lights and vehicles blurred around you as the motorcycle rushed past them all. Yoru’s driving was precise, but he was pushing the engine to the limit any chance he got

Cold wind forced you to hold Yoru tighter for warmth. Even through the jacket, he kept you from freezing

Yoru’s driving had attracted some police cars, to which Yoru decided to let chase him. He began the chase by popping a wheelie and tearing ahead

The cruisers tried to keep pace with him, but couldn’t match his speed. Yoru flipped them off as he escaped

Suddenly a blockade appeared on your horizon. Yoru seemed to smile through his helmet. “Keep holding on.” he commanded

He drifted the bike into the blockade as he activated his mask. You and him rode the bike into the rift

Your escape led you right into the garage, where Yoru skidded to a halt. He hopped off the bike and smirked at you

“So, how do you like my driving Y/N?”

“That was insane. I loved it!”

“You’ll like this too then.”

Yoru grabbed you and kissed you. It lasted for a second but the moment seemed longer than that

When the initial shock wore off, you turned to a slightly blushing Yoru

“We should go for a joyride more often.” you muttered with what little sense you had

#valorant #valorant agents #valorant headcanons #valorant imagines #valorant fade #valorant viper #valorant iso #valorant chamber #valorant cypher #valorant x reader #valorant sova #valorant gekko #valorant deadlock #valorant yoru #valorant x you #valorant wingman #x reader

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look-at-the-soul · 6 months ago

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Every little thing you do- Part 7

Tommy Shelby x reader

Series master list

A/N:Sorry for not posting this part earlier! I’ve been sick all week but I’m finally functioning like a human again 🤭 you’ll see some references to what really happened in season 3, I just adapted it to this story. Anyways hope you enjoy it! 🥰 let me know in the comments xx

Word count: 3,964

Tommy felt his anger raising, but he needed to calm down and think.

Think straight, have a clear mind.

Father Hughes was the most irritating person on earth. He didn’t want him to be involved in his charity project, that man was far from being someone respectable and he only make him waste his time. Deep down, Tommy knew he must have a dark past, something that he did wrong… he just needed to find what was his weakness.

It was still early, but still he needed a drink. Taking a glass and a decanter, he poured himself some.

“Thomas.” Polly called from the door.

“I need you to take care of everything today, gotta go.”

“Where?”

“I’ve a meeting, will probably be back later tonight.” He took a long swing of his drink. “Arranged a meeting with Vicente Changretta, Arthur and John will be there.”

They needed to fix the relationship with the Italians, after burning down the restaurant. He already had enough trouble in his hands.

“Fine.” She looked at him intensely. “You know… I was talking to Lizzie yesterday.”

Tommy hummed unbothered.

“Has Y/N told you if Lizzie keeps pissing her off?”

“No. Why?” He moved to his desk to take a few things.

Polly shuddered, perhaps she understood Lizzie wrong, she seemed to feel embarrassed and refused to say anything else to her.

“She’s jealous.” Polly ran her fingers through her hair. “She thought Y/N’s baby was yours.”

Tommy’s head snapped towards his aunt. His eyes had closed in disbelief. “What the fuck?”

“Look, I’m not judging her, and you shouldn’t either.” Polly gave him a knowing glance, se had talked to the secretary and she seemed to be having a change of heart.

“She told me she’s willing to do anything to get you to trust her once more.”

Pondering on Polly’s words, Tommy thought for a couple of seconds. “Anything eh? Alright… she’s going to help us clean the mess she made.”

He’d try to push Lizzie’s buttons just to make sure how far she could go. The sudden change could’ve a reason behind.

Now it was Polly’s turn to squint her eyes. “What are you thinking of?”

“She’s going to break up this absurd romance with Angel Changretta. Very peacefully.”

“Isn’t that too much to ask?” She asked cautiously.

“Explain to Lizzie how life works, no matter what Angel says, he’ll always remind her of her past. If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll always have her desk available here as a secretary, but if she keeps this going, I’m going to be her worst nightmare.” He warned right before storming out his office.

First he’d stop by to pay Ada a visit, then off to the meeting with the Russian royalty.

***

Y/N thanked the two men carrying the last piece of furniture into the office, they previously brought in the small desk and chairs, the bookshelf and a file cabinet.

In the corner of the room, she kept a box full of folders, sheets and other office supplies she would distribute among the classrooms. Most of her days have been busy organizing the storage and after a while it seemed to be presentable.

“Miss Y/N Y/LN?” The gardener called, getting her attention. “Your presence is required outside.”

“Oh! Sure.”

The Shelby Institute might open its doors any moment now, she thought as she strolled through the long hall, her shoes clacked against the floor, the daily walks around the institute made her keep in a good shape, because her belly was becoming more prominent day by day, of course she got out of breath anyways.

“We just need you to check if it’s the right color.” Paul asked pointing at the wall.

Tommy made sure to hire Small Heath people, purchasing all the material from local and small businesses, he felt this urge to help as much as possible because he couldn’t stop thinking given different circumstances, it would be him instead of them struggling with money, not having enough in their pockets to feed their family.

“This looks amazing, thank you for all the hard work you’re doing.” Y/N praised.

It wasn’t her place to supervise, but Tommy officially let her decide everything that was needed; from the color, decoration, even the personnel. He just kept signing cheques.

“Am I still on time to enroll my children? Could you ask Mr. Shelby, Miss Y/LN?”

“Yes of course you can! Bring me the papers tomorrow morning and the authorization.”

It was Tommy’s wish, to help as much people as possible.

The man gave her an embarrassed glance. “I don’t want them to be like me, I want them to have an education.” He added with melancholy.

“There’s nothing wrong to work in construction Billy,” Y/N encouraged. “But it’s admirable that you want them to be better.”

“That wouldn’t be possible without Mr. Shelby’s generosity.”

Y/N smiled at him but before she could step inside the building again, she noticed a car parking behind. Squinting her eyes because of the sun, she could barely tell who was that.

“Is this the Institution that runs that gang leader?” The man asked, judging by his attire he was a priest, but there was some off about him that said otherwise.

An uneasy feeling made Y/N take a step back, she covered her bump with the folders in her hands in a protective motion.

“Who’s asking?”

Tommy would be the last person on earth to have something to do with a priest.

The man looked her up and down, giving her a nasty and dirty stare.

“Tell him I’ll supervise this place, once it’s open.”

When he left, his vehicle made a cloud of dust. He didn’t ask politely, no, he pretended to be in charge of the charity.

Y/N walked inside the Institute again, making a mental note to add a room for the children to read, and they might need a fountain in the patio. She chuckled to herself, realizing she started to sound like Tommy.

No long after honking loudly, Tommy announced his presence, Y/N saw him behind the window as he was strolling towards her.

“Pick up your stuff, we’re going.” He announced.

“Where?”

“Somewhere, don’t ask.”

Y/N frowned. “I’ve to ask, it’s going to be midday, there’s things that need to be done.”

Tommy stepped into her office, looking for her coat and handbag.

“Yeah I pay you a ridiculous amount of money it’s about time you hire an assistant.” He said with a wink.

“An assistant of an assistant. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard.” She added, Tommy noticed she crossed her arms, not pleased by his interruption, she was always doing what she had to do and don’t you dare to move something from her things-to-do-list.

“It’s something good, trust me.”

“Can I ask where are we going?” Y/N asked enjoying the wind in her face.

“No.”

“What’s with all this secrecy?”

“If I tell you, you’re going to tell me no.”

“Well, you better include food because the baby is getting hungry.” Y/N smiled at her bump, while her hands caressed in a circle motion. Day by day she was getting fond of her baby.

“Oh I was counting you’d say that, lately you’re demanding more and more food.” He added in a light mood.

“Polly says I need to eat for two.” Y/N defended.

Tommy chuckled and in a blink, he was gone. He literally stormed into the library.

The little information she managed to get was that now she was reading out loud for Tommy a book about Russians that ran away from the revolution and opted to live exiled and from the Crown’s charity. Tommy assured her that way was practical.

Parking later after in front of a couple of shops, but she still knew so little about what was behind Tommy’s requests.

“I’ve a meeting around, it should be quick,” he explained helping Y/N out of the car, “but I thought it might be good if you start searching for some baby furniture, eh?”

“Tommy…” She covered her mouth with her hand.

“And don’t even start saying you don’t have money, I promised your grandma to look after the two of you, and that includes the things the baby will need.” Tommy used her shocked state to practically drag her inside the store, wining the argument way before it could start. “Hello, we would like to check out a moses, a rocking chair, a drawer…”

Y/N stared at him silently, Tommy thought of everything and even though his generosity wasn’t a surprise, it still came out of the blue, catching her off guard.

“Would you like us to open an account?” Asked the perplexed sales woman.

“Yes,” Tommy answered eyeing a catalog. “Everything she wants, a lamp, the carpet, the sheets… just put it into my account.” He handled a card with his company name and address. “Pick you up in about an hour?”

Y/N nodded, still trying to process everything.

“Leave something for the rest of the costumers ey!” Tommy shouted from the door before disappearing.

The woman started swooning immediately. “I hope the baby will get his eyes.” The woman admitted with a blush.

Y/N opened her mouth to correct her and tell her that Tommy wasn’t the father, but she closed it instead, remembering the advise her grandmother shared with her; don’t explain your situation to people you don’t know, let them believe their assumptions even if it’s incorrect. It will save you of uncomfortable explanations.

So Y/N gave the sales woman an awkward smile and followed her to the back of the store, this moment would arrive sooner or later and she was already here.

“We can make any piece you want in a variety of colors, there’s a trunk in the corner that goes well with this dresser…”

“Let me bring the fabric catalog for the carpets.” Added another woman, they obviously wanted to make a juicy sale.

Y/N felt like she was walking on a cloud, the smile on her face couldn’t get bigger. And now, she was the one swooning over the furniture, her imagination taking her to unknown places with images of her rocking her baby to sleep, or taking a look through the canopy at a small bundle of joy.

An excited gasp escaped her lips when she landed her eyes on a crib mobile. Her heart did this flip inside her chest and she could hardly hide her emotions.

“Should we add it?” The expert eye of the sales woman noticed her excitement. “Your baby will be fascinated and spend hours staring at it.”

The mobile had a handmade star and a sheep, a fluffy cloud and a small sun. It was adorable, she couldn’t wait for her baby to be born to use everything.

Y/N was allowed to sit on the rocking chairs to see which one felt more comfortable and the women showed her a few combinations to create a whole set of dresser, a small wardrobe, a bedside table and also the different colors they had to offer. The more she looked, the more confused she felt because everything was beautiful! She had never had the chance to purchase furniture, since her house was filled with her grandma’s possessions.

A fond memory of her grandmother knitting a blanket for one of her sisters filled her mind, her parents didn’t have enough money to buy fancy furniture, so they used a basket as a crib, she was just a girl but she remembered it clearly.

Both women shared endless recommendations for her baby arrival, and Y/N felt extremely grateful and was willing to take every little thing that could be helpful.

As she flicked another page of the catalog, she wondered how long would it take Tommy to pick her up, then her thoughts wandered towards her sister Lee-Anne, the last time she saw her, it was the day her father hit her. They couldn’t meet because their parents where so strict now, after what happened, they were trying to move under the radar according to her grandmother. There were so many things she wanted to tell Lee-Anne, firstly assure her that she was alright, she didn’t need to worry, then when the time is right, she would explain everything to her, so the younger girl wouldn’t make the same mistake as her.

Not that she thought her baby was a mistake, no. Those are two separate things. But the circumstances it’s what was wrong, she was aware that not all women had a Tommy Shelby around the corner to selflessly take care of everything.

If only she knew then, she’d do it differently.

“Y/N?” A gentle voice called for her, something squeezed her arm slightly.

Her eyes fluttered open and Y/N looked around confused.

“You fell asleep.” Tommy pointed out.

“It happens all the time.” The sales woman gave her a small glance. “We didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Goodness.” Y/N felt embarrassed and mortified, she felt tired.

“So, I think you found the perfect rocking chair then.” Tommy raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“We’ll have everything delivered in a couple of weeks.” Her smile couldn’t get bigger.

Thanking them, Tommy and Y/N stepped outside the boutique, she wanted to stretch her legs so bad.

“How did your meeting go?”

“Boring.”

He always had just a few words to say. But his eyes, said everything that was crossing his mind.

“Did you get to drink vodka and do the Russian dance?” Y/N teased.

Tommy scoffed at her sense of humor.

“He’s a liar, a buffer. He’s just a filthy lucky bastard with the right connections.”

He sighed loudly, but at least Tommy was sharing something with her. In that case it would be so easy for him to make that man show his true colors.

As he started the engine, Y/N started telling him of all the adorable things they showed her at the store, noticing the way her eyes were glowing. And he obviously preferred that kind of news instead of the one Polly was about to share.

“I’ll wait here by the fireplace.” Y/N announced, not wanting to get in the middle of the argument.

Sitting in one of the couches, she leaned her head back, rolling her feet meanwhile a few steps away, the Shelby family were discussing over whatever John had made.

“If you apologize once, you do it again and again…” Y/N heard Tommy say as she was drifting away to sleep. But she was far too gone and tired.

Feeling drained after all the things he got busy with, Tommy couldn’t wait to be home.

“You can stay over so you don’t have to drive back.” He proposed to his brother Finn, who would be driving.

But as Tommy stepped into the entry, he stopped abruptly when his eyes landed on Y/N. She was peacefully sleeping on the couch, the flames of the fireplace casting shadows over her features while one of her hands rested under her belly.

He didn’t have the heart to wake her up.

“Bring the car around.” He whispered Finn, trying to concede Y/N a few more minutes before starting the road back home.

Taking off his coat, he slid it over her frame to cover her from the cold. Tommy tried to call her in a low voice, but she only adjusted her shoulder as answer. Y/N should probably take things easier, but she was adamant to finish the charity project, she was pouring every fiber of her soul into it and wanted to make sure every single detail was perfect.

“Y/N… let’s go.” Tommy tried again softly.

Fluttering her eyes, she slowly opened them squinting in confusion by feeling Tommy touching her shoulder.

“C’mon let me help you.”

“Hmm.” She hummed barely cooperating.

She was beyond sleepy by the time they reached the car, settled taking the back seat by herself, she heard the Shelby brothers talking something about an Italian pub and a fight that would eventually happen. Tommy mentioned something about their fragile ego and sending flowers to a hospital, but Y/N couldn’t be sure because maybe it was part of her dream.

She moved across the room, smashing the fresh berries for the pie she was baking, the lovely smell feeling the small kitchen, it was a sunny day and she could hear the birds chirping, when suddenly a baby cry came to her attention. Y/N rushed then to get pick up her baby who was demanding her presence.

“It’s just fine, are you hungry?” She cooed to settle the lovely bundle wrapped in a blanket.

“How’s my ray of sunshine?” Asked her grandmother from behind, reaching over to caress the baby’s face.

“Woke up hungry.”

“You feed the baby while I finish the pie.”

When the car took a turn Y/N’s bumped something, she woke up disoriented.

“Finally I was tired of you snoring.” Tommy teased taking at look over his shoulder.

“Oh my God I don’t snore!”

“Loud and clear.” Tommy assured her. “Like a truck driver.”

Y/N gave Tommy a surprised and embarrassed look, awkwardly she tried to fix her hair since it was out of place.

Finn rushed upstairs while Mary greeted them by the door.

“Something important came up?” Tommy asked the maid.

“Just a few letters.” She gave him a nod.

“Oh, and maybe a couple of responses to the charity invitation.” Y/N wondered out loud.

“All correspondence arrived under Mr. Shelby’s name.” The maid explained, making a bit obvious that she wasn’t very fond of Y/N.

Y/N looked between Tommy and Mary, waiting.

“Go on, go check the mail.” He told her softly.

“Mr. Shelby.” Mary tried to get his attention. “The mailman thinks Miss Y/LN is Mrs. Shelby, he asked me if Mrs. Shelby had anymore invites to send off.” The maid voiced with concern.

Tommy noticed the offended tone in her voice.

“Let him think whatever he wants, Mary.” Tommy shuddered, not thinking it was important. “As long as he takes the mail.”

“But…” she tried again, then closed her mouth when Tommy gave her the look.

“That’s all, thank you Mary.” Tommy dismissed her just as Y/N entered the reading room skipping happily.

“Guess!”

Sitting, Tommy groaned. “Guess what?”

“He said yes!” Y/N explained excitedly.

“Who?” He chuckled at her happiness.

“He leader of the Birmingham City Council is going to attend the dinner.” Y/N showed him the letter back. “Everyone has said yes.”

Tommy dragged his eyes from the piece of paper, towards Y/N.

“Ah.” Suddenly she got the energy of a kid, it was the nap during the car ride did wonders to her.

“I keep changing the menu, do you think we should offer something else?” Y/N kept explaining how she needed to send a Thank you note back to the people who had confirmed their attendance.

The charity was clearly an excellent job for her. Keeping her busy with something good whilst helping people in need and he was glad to have someone he could trust to take care of that.

“You need to remember to take this slowly, write off those notes tomorrow or the day after tomorrow.” He suggested.

“But Tommy, these things can’t wait, it takes days for the letters to be delivered and-”

“Very well then, why don’t you use the typewriter I gave you.” He cleared his throat and took a sip of his drink.

“Tom!” She chuckled. “You don’t write letters of a social occasion on a typewriter.” Y/N explained him with a smile.

“Oh, forgive me.” He raised his eyebrows.

She then went on to show him another paper. “I’ve the drawings of what they plan to do with the grounds of the institute. There’ll be an area for the children to play. Look.” He hummed in response. “And the Birmingham Charity Commission have agreed to set aside their three rotten floorboards upstairs and grant us the license within a month.”

She finally took a deep breath after managing to explain him all in record time. There was a soft smile playing on his lips and she found tenderness in his eyes.

“You’re not listening to me.” Y/N sentenced.

Tommy leaned forwards. “Yes I am. I am.”

“You think I’m becoming obsessed?” Y/N stopped abruptly.

A chuckle escaped Tommy’s lips. “No, as a matter of fact, I love the passion you’ve put into this project.”

“This wouldn’t be possible without you.” Y/N expressed honestly.

Tommy gave Y/N a long look, studying her features, until he finally spoke.

“I’ve something for you.” Y/N frowned confused. “I know you’ll say it’s a bit too much, but still.”

“What did you get?” She eyed him suspiciously.

“Close your eyes.” Tommy encouraged.

“Tom.”

He fixed his eyes on her, not taking a no for as answer. So she gave in, turned around and closed her eyes.

Leaning back, Tommy got something out of his pocket, holding the chain between both hands, he presented Y/N the present.

Y/N felt lost for words when she saw the necklace. “What’s this?”

“A sapphire.” He explained calmly.

The cold stone sent a shiver down her spine when it made contact with her skin. It felt heavy and strange to have a stone that bug hanging from her neck.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“A simple thank you could work.” He winked. “And before you even start, you can either wear it or keep it in the box it’s your choice.”

Y/N was still trying to process the overpriced present, never in a million years she imagined to own something like that piece of expensive jewelry.

“This is insane, but thank you.” She chuckled nervously. “Where am I even supposed to wear something like this? The charity event?”

“You can wear it to church if you want, it’s yours Y/N.”

“Goodness.” She looked down at her chest and touched the cold gemstone. “You really look for any excuse to show off your wealth, damned bastard.”

Tommy laughed loudly. “You got me.”

“I wanted to ask you to be my baby’s godfather… but you’re going to spoil the poor child.”

“Oh I think I earned that right, so you better keep considering me.”

She slapped his arm playfully, earning another laugh from him. Tommy pulled her by the arm but the sharp move caught her off guard and made her loose her balance, landing on his chest. His arms came around her waist instantly in a protective motion, and their laughs subsided as soon as they realized how close they were to each other’s faces.

Something they both didn’t know how to name ignited in that moment, suddenly her warm hands felt like burning through the layers of his clothes, his deep blue sparkled in a way she had never seen before.

Struggling to form a coherent thought, Y/N used his chest to support her arms and move back. Tommy cleared his throat just as he was trying to clear his mind.

“Sorry… I stumbled.” She tried to smooth her clothes.

“Yeah.” He noticed the blush on her cheeks.

“Better go to get s-some rest.” The words rushed out of her lips. “Have a good night.”

“Good night, Y/N.” He replied more to himself, watching her leave the room.

Taking the remains of his drink in a swing, Tommy thought how close they were of crossing a line that would change everything.

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#that’s what Cill said #tommy shelby x reader insert #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #thomas shelby x imagine #thomas shelby x y/n #peaky blinders fan fiction #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby x reader

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sapphic-coded · 5 months ago

Text

I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

You grew up in Ohio with your father, brother, and sister. Your family was small and strange. Because of that, you were picked on relentlessly at school. Until another weird kid showed up. Her family moved in across the street from you. It wasn't long until the two of you became friends. Your friendship became the light in your life. Until it ended suddenly. Rumors followed your friend's disappearance. Russian spies. You didn't see her again until you crossed paths at work.

Series Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Violence. Some gore. Reader is a messed up assassin and loves helping her friend. More fun weapons. Opera music. Childhood trauma hanging out in the background. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 3.4k

Author's Note: This chapter is finally ready! I hope you all enjoy. I apologize for the long wait. I also apologize for the wait for the next chapter. Your love for this fic is why it's longer than one chapter.

Taglist: @natsxwife @iliketozoneout @newawakening9 @natasha-1million @ilovemcuff @taliiiaasteria @alowint @yerisdumbass @natashasilverfox @fxckmiup @escapereality4music @gbab09

Chapter Nine: You Can Fool Any Friend Who Ever Knew You

Mount Vernon, Ohio – 1993

The sound of crunching snow caused your head to lift. Your friend knelt down in front of you. The wind swept the stray strands of her blue hair that escaped the confines of her gray knitted hat across her face. As her gloved hand reached up to push her hair away from her face, you tried desperately to understand what you were seeing. The look in your friend’s eyes was not one you were accustomed to. It was too strange. Like something out of a television show or in one of your sister’s books. It was fear and slight traces of panic. But not for herself. She looked scared about…you.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked.

Your head turned to look in the direction you had come from. In the direction of the frozen pond. Where the cold, dead hare sunk deep into the pitch black water. You had done it. You had done what was asked of you. So why did it feel like your father was standing right next to you? Scolding. Yelling.

A soft gloved hand pressed gently against your cheek and slowly turned your head back towards Nat.

“Y/N?” she asked.

“I got lost,” your voice shook. You felt so cold. The sting of the wind against your cheeks was gone. The chill of the snow was quickly becoming a memory. Every inch of you was just cold. You were pretty sure your bones were turning into icicles. Which meant if you fell, you would shatter.

Nat’s gloved hand dropped away from your face and came to rest on your arm. “Is your brother and sister also out there?”

You shook your head.

“Your father?”

“He is at the convention,” your answer was automatic. It was what you were instructed to say if anyone asked about your father. It was an easy instruction to remember. It was true. Your father was attending his favorite convention. Also, no one ever bothered to ask. Nat was the first.

“C’mon,” Nat said as she helped you to your feet. “We can’t stay out here.”

Your body felt stiff as you stood. You couldn’t really feel your legs as you went to take your first step, but then Nat reached out to take hold of your hand. Despite the layers of the gloves that separated your hand from hers, you felt a sudden warmth. It was as if you had decided to reach out and grab the radiator in your family room. You instinctively tried to pull your arm back, but Nat’s hold on your hand didn’t let go. Instead, she led you back up the path you had been trying to find.

Slowly, the stiffness in your body vanished as Nat led you out of the woods and into your backyard. The windows along the backside of your house were dark. As Nat neared your house’s back door, you stopped walking. She stopped and looked back at you.

“You can’t go in there,” you said. Only your father was allowed to bring visitors over to the house. But even if that rule didn’t exist, you still wouldn’t bring Nat into your home. She was your friend. You couldn’t do that to her. Not when her house was so much better.

“Okay,” she said. Her grip on your hand never wavered. “My house then.”

You followed Nat around your house and across the street. The warmth of her home was almost overwhelming when she led you inside. The whole world was suddenly cast in a soft, yellow light as Nat helped you remove your boots. You shivered when you removed your coat and felt your damp clothes sticking to your skin. Nat led you upstairs and left you standing in the bathroom while she fetched spare clothes from her room.

As you waited in the bathroom, you examined the small room. It was very similar to the one you and your siblings shared. The sink, toilet, and bathtub were all in the same spots. The floor was made of the same small, white, square tiles that covered the floor of your bathroom. But the walls were painted a warm beige. Your bathroom walls weren’t painted at all. Or if your father had painted them, they were just white. But one thing in particular grabbed your attention.

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub was a bright yellow rubber duck. You walked over and picked it up. These were real?

The door to the bathroom opened, and Nat returned with dry, fresh clothes in her arms. “These should fit you.”

You set the rubber duck down and took the fresh clothes. “Thanks. Where did you get the duck?”

Nat looked first at the rubber duck and then back at you. “My mom. Why?”

You shrugged. “I didn’t know they were real. I only ever saw them on TV.” You felt stupid for not connecting the two things earlier. You didn’t have a mother so it only made sense that you also didn’t have a rubber duck.

You changed into fresh clothes after Nat left. You felt more yourself when you left the bathroom and returned to your friend’s bedroom. She was busy setting up a game of Clue which was one of your favorite games. You settled down on the floor across from her as she finished setting up the board.

“What were you doing out there?” she asked.

You picked up the tiny revolver game piece. “Chores.”

Richmond, Virginia – 2012

She looks stunning. The black dress compliments every inch of her body from her toned arms that spill from its short sleeves, to the graceful curve of her hips, and the commanding presence of her strong legs that peak out from the slit of her dress. Her short red hair looks softer, and the way her earrings catch the light makes you smile. Your focus is drawn to the red lipstick that coats her lips.

“I know what it’s like to be used by other people.”

Your smile falters, and you already start to feel the urge to move and do something. Preferably kill someone. But you’ll take standard violence if that’s the only option. The noise and thrill of it all always buries the thoughts and memories that try to climb to the surface. But you can’t do any of that. Climbing into the vent had been hard enough. You had just barely fit. You are also in position. Leaving now would jeopardize your friend’s mission. Which would jeopardize your alone time with her.

So your only option is to continue to lay in the vent you crawled into. The picture you have of Nat in her dress remains up on your interior visor screen and you choose to imagine yourself in your finest suit. You miss the clothes you used to have. Instead of wearing one stupid suit, you were anyone you wanted to be. You could have easily been her date. Your smile returns.

Your photo of Nat shrinks slightly as new data appears on the left side of your screen. It’s a message from the phone number you had memorized minutes after receiving it.

Target approaching. You in position?

You have just enough wiggle room in the vent to pull your cherished phone from one of your pockets. Your gloved fingers type out your reply.

Tight fit. Ready.

As you tuck your phone back into your pocket, you hear the crackling noise of your friend’s comms going live. The hum of voices mixed with the occasional clink of glassware echoes within your helmet. You can imagine the scene clearly. You and Nat surrounded by the wealthy and elite. Your friend on your arm as you make small talk with all the important people who you know so well. Because they hire you to kill their rivals. You enjoy watching the life fade from your targets’ eyes and all the important good wealthy people love staying in power. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. And the cherry on top is your friend–

“You look stunning Miss. Rushman.”

The stranger’s voice drowns out all the background noise. You stare up at the dull, metal panel that hangs two inches from your helmet.

“Well, it’s not every day a girl gets invited to watch Tristan und Isolde,” Nat’s voice fills up all the space in your helmet.

“I prefer to treat my business contacts well,” the stranger’s voice replies. “I find that these outings foster stronger connections. Come. Our seats are this way.”

Your message log with Nat vanishes from your visor screen, and your picture of Nat shrinks as a boring map fills up the majority of your screen. You are familiar with this map. It’s a map of the entire building, and you’ve been studying it for the past forty-eight hours. You’re here to help your friend with her mission and nothing could go wrong. There was no way you were going to risk your time with Nat. So you are going to complete the objective per her orders. You smile at that thought as you review your route to your target.

“Does that mean you are moving forward with my offer?” Nat’s voice asks.

The map on your screen vanishes as you press your feet down on one of the vent panels. You feel it drop open and you shift around until you slide out of the vent and land in a hallway. To your left is a stairwell that only goes up. To your right is just a plain concrete wall. You pull your gun from your holster and attach a silencer over the muzzle as you start walking down the hallway.

“Your offer is the most appealing,” the stranger’s voice replies.

“It’s the highest bid you’ll get for it,” Nat’s voice says.

You hear the stranger’s chuckle. “Your offer did take me by surprise, Miss. Rushman. At first, I thought I had appraised it incorrectly. But after reviewing its history, I found that I made no mistake. Every other bid falls in line with what I expected. Except for yours. I’m curious about your story.”

As you near the end of the hallway, it splits off to the right and left. You turn to your right and raise your gun. Roughly five feet away is a guard dressed in a clean black suit. He stands with his back to you, and you take a moment to line up your shot.

“My story is rather boring. I’m a collector, and I choose not to insult other colleagues with bad offers,” Nat’s voice says. Her lie makes you smile. You don’t know what the target is exactly. Your friend did not share those details with you. You didn’t push because it was her mission. Whatever all this was about was probably some secretive SHIELD stuff. Most likely real SHIELD since Nat had only invited you to help her. In the end, you didn’t care. But her lie sparked a small bit of curiosity about this target.

The sound of the orchestra spills through your commlink as you pull the trigger. The guard crumples forward as blood splatters against the walls. Someone grabs you from behind. You jam your elbow into soft flesh and slip free from your assailant’s hold. You turn and bury a bullet in the middle of another guard’s face. The guard’s head jerks back as a large, red hole eats away at the center of his face. No more nose. Most of the upper lip gone. You hear bits of his brain hit the ground less than a second before his body does.

You step over the fallen guards and are careful not to step into the growing puddles of blood. You continue down the hallway and kill two more guards who came rushing at you. You empty out the rest of your clip on one of the down guards who was still moaning. The guard is still and quiet as you reload your gun.

“Oh I simply love this part,” the stranger’s voice says as you near the door that leads into the room containing your target.

You open the door. The room within is large and square. Crates and boxes line the walls of the room. A brief glance into one of the open boxes reveals a random assortment of props. A storage room. You bet that if you could take off your helmet you could probably smell the musty scent that you know is clinging onto every inch of this space. It reminds you of your father’s storage room in your basement. The way the musty scent sucked up all the air.

But unlike your father’s old storage closet, this storage room had clearly been prepared for visitors. All the lights were on and the space in the middle of the room cleared except for a single square card table. Sitting in the middle of the card table is a brown briefcase. Not one of those fancy briefcases. Well, maybe it had been fancy and eye-catching a long time ago. Now it bears the weather beaten stains of many years of use. You can see the scratches in the once perfect, smooth leather. The golden metal that accents the rectangular handles carries smudges.

As you reach the card table, your free hand moves towards the pocket that carries your phone.

Your visor alerts you to the other person’s approach a second after something loud and painful slams into your chest. All the info on your interior visor screen goes blank and the stream of orchestra music filtering into your helmet from your commlink with Nat abruptly stops as the force of whatever hit you lifts you off your feet. You are flying backwards as if yanked back on the end of a line. The crash of breaking crates swallows up your pained shout as your body collapses to the ground. Your suit feels so heavy. As if it was trapped beneath the weight of hundreds of crates. But you’re not trapped. You are lying amongst broken boxes and scattered props. But you can’t move. A flash of pain seizes hold of your limbs, and all you can do is lay there and stare at the dark visor screen while your limbs spasms.

“You certainly take your time.”

It’s a voice you don’t recognize. That seemed to be the theme of the night. Nat gets her stranger, and you get yours. Your hands continue to twitch as you hear approaching footsteps. It takes only seconds for the stranger to reach you. Even with the black mask covering most of the stranger’s face, you don’t recognize him. His brown eyes examine your spasming body. You want to say something. You want to tell this man that his yellow hoodie looks like the color of piss and that his brown vest only cements the image of a foul toilet in your mind. But you can’t get a single word out. Just pained gasps.

“This is what they gave you?” he asks as he gestures to your suit.

Your eyes lock onto the bright bluish-white light that glows out the end of the man’s large metal gauntlets.

“The way they talk about you, I thought they’d give you the better toy,” he says.

You can start to feel your legs again as the man shakes his head and then moves his arm to aim one of the gauntlets at your head. You sweep your legs into the back of the stranger’s. The man falls and the blast meant for your head hits the crates behind you as you roll onto your knees. You quickly find your gun laying near the card table where you dropped it. You get to your feet and run towards it, but quickly change directions when you hear a loud whine. Another blast sends both your gun, the card table, and the briefcase flying.

You turn towards the stranger. Your interior visor screen is still blank. Commlink gone. It’s almost like your old jobs. Minus the stupid suit and whatever kind of weapon this piss and shit themed man was using. You pull one of the black knives strapped to your torso free and rush towards him. The whine of the stranger’s gauntlets grows louder as the squares of bluish-white light where hands should normally be become brighter. You jump out of the way as another blast cuts across the storage room. You close the distance and bring your arm back to drive your knife into any part of him. The stranger raises one of the large gauntlets to block your strike. You drop your knife and catch it in your other hand and go to dig your knife into the man’s chest, but his other arm blocks that as well.

You go to bring your knee up when a much smaller, but still painful, blast sends you flying back again. Your limbs don’t spasm like before as you crash again into more crates. Your knife is gone. Your gun is somewhere in this mess. Your heavy breaths begin to fog up your visor as you roll onto your side to get back up. You see the briefcase laying within arms reach to your right. You can hear the stranger’s rushed, advancing footsteps.

You grab the handle of the briefcase and turn, swinging it out towards the man. The edge of the briefcase slams into the side of the man’s head. He stumbles away and you wish he wasn’t wearing that ski mask so you could see what kind of damage you had done. When he shakes his head and lets out a yell, you look down at your new weapon and frown. Apparently the briefcase is so old that the locks don’t work well. The briefcase is hanging open and the contents within landed at your feet. It’s–

Three gunshots silence the man’s yelling. You look up and watch as the stranger drops with a graceless thud. Three blotches of bright red stains his shit colored vest. His brown eyes are still open but very much dead. You missed your favorite part of any kill, but your thoughts are a jumbled mess. You want to look back down at what is laying at your feet, but instead you look over at the shooter.

Your friend looks as stunning as her picture. Even better with the gun in her hand. You bet the barrel would still be warm if you could get close enough. If you could take off your helmet and just say anything. Anything to erase the last thing you said to her. You watch as she moves towards you. You spot the familiar traces of fear in the way her eyes examine every inch of you. Searching for anything broken.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

She’s so close. Just a couple inches and a stupid suit separates the two of you. It had been so long since she last saw you. Two years had passed. She had become a hero and you thought all connections to your time with her in the woods, in the middle of nowhere, had been severed. You thought she had moved on. You thought playing this stupid game with HYDRA and SHIELD was all you would ever get to spend time with your friend. But you were wrong.

Her hand comes to grip the back of your helmet. “I need you to answer me.”

You nod.

She lets go of the back of your helmet at your answer. You follow her gaze as she looks first at the briefcase you hold hanging open. Her gaze drops lower to the object at your feet. A black 9mm Beretta handgun. Your gun. The one you lost. The only one that ever felt right in your hand.

She’s still playing your game. She’s still trying to find you.

Nat picks up your gun, and your lips part as if to say something. There’s a million things you want to say, but you can’t. One word echoes amongst your jumbling thoughts, and it steals your voice. So instead, all you do is offer your friend the briefcase.

“No,” Nat shakes her head. She steps closer to you to slide her gun into the empty holster at your hip. You see the corner of her lip rise into a smirk. “Don’t lose that.” Then, she slides your gun into the holster strapped to one of her long legs beneath the curtain of her dress.

The briefcase falls from your grip, and Nat takes hold of your hand. You follow her to the exit, and as your thoughts continue to crash into each other and scream, you wonder: does she know it’s you?

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow fanfiction #natasha romanoff fanfic #my fanfic #fic: i swear that i don't have a gun

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alwaysurvalentine · 3 months ago

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bad days are meant to be shared - st fic

Written for Day 10 of @steddieangstyaugust - prompt: "Where were you?" - word count: 3.7k - cw: some cussing, mentions of nausea but no vomiting (Steve Harrington centric, but Eddie saves the day)

enjoy! 💛

Working at Family Video is fine. It really is. It can be mindless but Steve doesn’t mind it, or at least he doesn’t mind when he wakes up feeling refreshed. Instead he got to wake up feeling groggy, a heaviness settling in his head that he knows can turn into a migraine if he isn’t careful. His heartbeat is already pulsing through his body but he figures the medicine he took this morning with his coffee should hold off the worst of it until Robin comes in. She’ll be able to talk to the customers and he can just focus on restocking the shelves and rewinding tapes. He’s just got to make it until 2. Only one hour to go until she walks in and so far it’s been pretty quiet for a Friday. Only one more hour and then he won’t have to answer the phone when it rings or-

Speaking of the phone, it starts to ring and he sighs. He wishes he didn’t have to answer, but would rather answer than listen to it continue to ring – acting like an ice pick to his brain.

“Thank you for calling Family Video, how can I help you?”

“Steve! Hey!” Robin’s out of breath on the other end of the line and Steve can picture her wrestling jeans on while talking on the phone. “Can you do me a huuuuge favor? Can you please please cover for me today? Chrissy invited me out to the lake for a picnic!”

He knows he’s going to regret it, especially with how his head already feels, but he also knows she’s covered for him before. Plus, he’s been dying to tell her ‘I told you so’ about the whole Chrissy Situation (TM), since Robin refuses to believe the other girl likes her. Steve’s seen cheerleaders flirt, he knows what it means that Chrissy always finds a way to touch Robin in some way. Examples include bumping shoulders while they walk all the way to brushing Robin’s hair behind her ears – Steve swears she’s hopeless. The girl can figure out Russian in no time, but a girl flirting with her? Might as well be the nuclear codes. Though he thinks Robin could figure that out faster.

“Yeah, Robs. ‘Course I can.” His voice comes out more gruff than he intended, but the light from the front window is just hitting his eyes worse than it was before. The echo of his pounding heartbeat intensifies. There’s a small pause on the other end of the phone, damn Robin and her ability to read him. “Someone’s about to walk in – talk later?”

“Sure, but Ste-” He hangs up. No one’s walking up to the store but Steve stands behind the register for a moment regardless. He crosses his arms on the counter in front of him and leans against them for a couple breaths. Now he’s got four hours to go before he can leave and no one to cover for him if this headache does become a migraine. Hopefully Hawkins will decide to go to the actual movie theater in town rather than coming in for a rental. Four hours until he gets to go home. Where he planned on cooking dinner for Eddie tonight, shit. His head throbs at the idea. No, it’ll be fine. He’ll make it through his shift, make dinner for Eddie, call Robin to ask about her date, clean up dinner, and then go to bed. Imagining his and Eddie’s bed, soft sheets and fluffy pillows gives him some hope; imagining Eddie’s arms around him when he falls asleep brings a small smile to his face.

The bell attached to the front door rings and he sighs before standing straight, his customer service smile already painted on his face when he realizes it’s Dustin that’s walked through the door. As always, his curls are wild under his cap, and he’s wearing his green ‘Camp Know Where’ shirt.

“Steve! Get this! So was messing around with my mom’s radio to see what parts I could use to make my own phonograph -” And the pulsing is back. Steve knows as long as he keeps on nodding every so often and places a couple ‘oh really?’s in there Dustin will carry this whole conversation on his own. Dustin’s mom is a saint, but Steve knows that sometimes her suggestions for ‘Dusty’ to get some air is to give her some time alone in the house. Which usually leads him to wherever Steve is or the rest of the Party – Steve seems to be the lucky winner today.

A family makes their way into the store, Mrs. Dawson and her two boys. Steve doesn’t remember their names but he eyes them as they race off to the cartoon section of the shelves. Mrs. Dawson sets down a couple movies in front of him on the counter, a grimace on her face. Her lipstick is a bright pink that almost hurts to look at.

“Let me just pull up your account to get this squared away. Did you need help finding anything today?” His voice sounds plastic even to him, and distantly he can hear Dustin still talking about the pieces of the camcorder. What the hell is a beam splitter? Anyway – Amelia Dawson’s record shows the two movies on the counter, she’s turning them in on the last day before late fees but that’s fine. He checks that she’s returned them and goes to grab the cases (Robin Hood and Pete’s Dragon smile up at him from their plastic covers); now that he has his hands on them – are very sticky. Like dipped in caramel sticky. Luckily Mrs. Dawson’s attention is back on her boys who have decided to try and play tag in the aisles, uncaring of their elbows catching on movies at the end of shelves and leaving them to clatter on the floor. Steve fights a gag at the feeling and scoots the movies to the side of the counter, he can rewind them later.

“So as I was saying, now I just have to get a couple of parts from Radio Shack and I should be able to record my own waves and see what they look like. If I can do that, then-” Steve tunes him out again, nodding along like he has any idea about what Dustin is talking about. Why does he need to see how words sound?

“Boys, come on now, we don’t want to keep daddy waiting – let’s go. Time for a late lunch.” Luckily, the twins – who he finally remembers are Michael and Matthew – take off towards the door at their mom’s words. Pushing at each other to see who’s going to get there first. The cardboard cut out for the month, Sigourney Weaver’s character from Aliens, falls to the floor in their wake but at least the store is noticeably quieter without them. Dustin asks to use the bathroom and Steve just nods as he rounds the counter. The movies that fell earlier get placed on the shelf and he makes a mental note to move them to the right places before he leaves today. He’s standing the cutout back up when he gets hit with a wave of nausea. He closes his eyes and slowly inhales, knows if he pukes now the rest of his shift will be absolute hell. With his eyes closed it’s a lot easier to hone in on the sounds of the fluorescent lights. Normally it’s a gentle buzz in the background, but today the lights seem to be doing their best impression of a drum line that just won’t quit. The nausea lessens and Steve glances at his watch. Just three hours left to go.

“Steve, what do you think?” Hazel eyes blink and Dustin comes into focus again, his eyes expectant. Steve knows he’s waiting for an answer to something but he genuinely has no idea what was just asked of him. Dustin’s eyebrows furrow slightly as the silence continues. Steve’s head is still throbbing and he can feel his heartbeat all the way down to his fingers.

“What did you say?”

Dustin huffs, rolling his eyes before repeating(?) his question. “I said, do you think that we can record the sound of silence as a sound wave? Because when it’s quiet your ears can make that ringing noise, do you think it’s quantifiable? And if it is, do you think there’s some kind of link to that sound to the part of the ear that is affected by deafness?”

Steve knows all of those words individually, but thinking of them in a sequence that makes sense to him right now is not happening. He even knows what Dustin means by the ringing noise, but he didn’t realize other people heard that too – thought that was just a him thing. Dustin must be able to tell he doesn’t have an answer because he crosses his arms.

“Do you even listen to me when I’m talking?” Steve shouldn’t, especially with how riled up Dustin already appears to be, but he tunes him out again. Choosing instead to focus on the man walking through the door behind his friend.

“Welcome to Family Video!”

Distantly Steve wonders if Robin and Chrissy are having a good time at the lake, it’s been a sunny day. Probably hot enough to swim honestly. He feels bad for thinking it, but he hopes that Eddie’s bandmates are gone by the time he gets home. Normally he’d be fine with them at the apartment since they help bring out the best in Eddie, but he knows that they can also get pretty loud, especially if they’re messing with their instruments. He still needs to reorganize the shelves and rewind a couple films before the end of his shift. The thought of dinner makes his stomach turn and he wishes he could just go to bed once he gets home. But tonight’s his turn to cook, him and Eddie switching off days to make sure no one’s cooking all of the time.

“Excuse me?” A hand snaps in front of his face, bringing his attention to Mr. Jameson’s annoyed face. “Can you check me out or not? I don’t see anyone else here.” His words bite and Steve silently nods. Glancing at the title before looking up his name in the system. The screen is blurry and all the words look like one long dark line across the screen.

“Sorry, sir. Your total is-” before Steve could finish a five dollar bill was placed on the counter. “Okay, your change is $3.50. Here you-”

“No, you owe me four dollars back. Not $3.50. This is why I normally have that girl check me out. You’d think you’d know how much to charge by now.”

“No sir, it’s 50 cents per day, and typical rental time is three days. So that’s $1.50 which makes your change $3.50.” The change sits in Steve’s hand, two quarters pinched between his index finger and thumb. Mr. Jameson stares him down, eyes filled with anger, and Steve’s over it. Whatever, he’s got 5o cents in his car that he can put in the drawer to make it balanced later. He pops open the drawer and pulls out another dollar, dropping the quarters back into their slot. Four dollar bills are snatched from his hand and Mr. Jameson grunts before stomping out the door.

“Steve? What the hell? You’re just going to let him talk to you like that?” Dustin’s voice is shrill when he talks, getting higher near the end, and Steve just breaks.

“Please shut up.” Dustin’s mouth closes with a snap, a look of hurt on his face. Steve wants to say more, explain that having his eyes opens hurts and that he can’t be bothered with customers who don’t know how to be decent; can’t be bothered with remembering what parts of the radio and camcorder and VCR player Dustin took apart for his personal project. He wants to explain that he really needs to put a cold compress on his head and lay down in the pitch black silence of his room for a few hours to be human again.

None of this makes its way out of his tense jaw though and Dustin must decide he’s done with Steve for the day because he says nothing before turning and making his way towards the door. Fuck.

The last two hours of Steve’s shift passes in a blur. Someone tries to call the phone and instead of answering he covers his ears until the ringing stops and then unhooks it from the receiver. A couple of girls try fluttering their eyes at him to see what his weekend plans are but all he can think about is how he’s going to get through dinner with Eddie, and they finally leave with a disappointed glance at each other.

Finally, he’s able to turn the open sign around – and then he remembers he never organized the movies from earlier. He fixes the shelves by dwindling sunlight, having shut off the overhead lights as soon as he could. It takes him about 30 minutes to fix it all, pausing every so often to just stand with his eyes closed. The words have lost their meanings and he hopes that basing his sorting off of the cover pictures is good enough.

Sitting in his car is the most relief Steve’s gotten all day. Eyes closed behind sunglasses he had clipped on his visor and the engine off he takes the time to breathe; the nausea has been coming and going on its own in waves and he almost wishes he could just go to sleep in his car. Getting back to the apartment is only possible through muscle memory and the knowledge that dinner still has to be made. He waits another few minutes in the car, trying to decide if any of the cars outside are of the band’s, or if he’s officially got Eddie all to himself. For the first time today he feels lucky when he doesn’t see Jeff’s car.

Living on the second floor has its benefits, like not having upstairs neighbors and getting lots of natural sunlight for the apartment. It also has its downsides, like carrying heavy groceries in the heat and getting up to their door in one piece when a migraine has him by the throat. Even his key turning in the lock makes him cringe, clenching his teeth together as he steps in. It’s quiet in the apartment, a certain stillness in the air that Steve appreciates. He toes off his shoes, setting his keys in the little ceramic bowl El gifted him and Eddie when they moved, and then bends to straighten his shoes to the wall. Bending does not help his nausea and he swallows down a gag.

“Stevie, honey? You make it home?” Eddie rounds the corner, a grin already on his face. His hair rests on his shoulders, frizzy curls around his head like a halo. Steve musters a small smile at Eddie, closing the distance between them with a few steps. The shirt Eddie’s wearing is well worn, old enough now that the words on the front have faded into the black around them and the collar is stretched out enough that Steve can almost see the top of a spider’s leg.

“Hey, hungry?” Normally Steve matches Eddie’s energy as best he can, but he can already feel his energy draining again. Should’ve sat in the car for a little while longer. He presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s cheek and continues his path to the kitchen.

“You read my mind. You okay with cooking while I finish up some stuff before dinner? I promise you’ll have me all to yourself once food is ready. Just have some chords to figure out after talking with Gareth about some timing stuff.” Steve hopes Eddie’s looking when he nods because all of the movement from the stairs has caught up to him and he doesn’t think he has it in him to speak right now.

Alone in the kitchen Steve just breathes. Almost done. Just have to brown the meat, toss it into some sauce and make the noodles. Easy.

All of the ingredients are sitting on the counter when Steve finally loses the battle with his nausea and darts to the bathroom. He keeps the lights off, more focused on kneeling on the tile and trying to breathe through his gagging. A few minutes go by and he’s able to take a full breath in – just sitting down has taken the edge off. The darkness of the bathroom is more than welcome, he just wishes he wasn’t crouched over in his jeans still. Soft footsteps sound from the hallway heading towards the kitchen, guess Eddie finished his stuff.

“Stevie? Where’d you go?” As much as he’d love to answer, the effort it would take to yell for Eddie isn’t worth it right now so instead Steve leans against the tub, coolness spreading across his back. Another moment passes and Eddie rounds the corner to the bathroom, confusion on his face.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

Three words and the dam holding Steve together just, breaks. His head pounds worse when the tears start but he can’t stop now that he’s started. Today sucked. And now his night’s going just as poorly. Can’t even get dinner made. Eddie’s still looking at him but he can’t make out his expression through the tears blurring his vision.

“Okay, alright, come here.” And then Eddie’s kneeling on the ground, arms outstretched for Steve to lean in to. As soon as he leans in, he’s crumpling into Eddie’s arms.

Steve’s not sure how long they sit there, him crying into Eddie’s shirt, but the collar is nice and damp by the time he pulls away.Disgusting.

“As much as I love this surprise cuddle session, wanna tell me what’s going on?” He knows Eddie doesn’t mean to, but the sound of his boyfriend’s voice almost seems to echo in the bathroom. Steve shakes his head and whines, tries to burrow further into Eddie – done with pretending. His head hurts and his whole body feels heavy like concrete. Right now the best thing in the world is having his eyes shut, head tucked into Eddie’s neck, and having his back rubbed. Without an answer though, Eddie leans back, staring at Steve hard like he’s going to hear the answer if he thinks at Steve hard enough.

“Head.” Just one word takes a herculean effort and Steve watches as recognition lights in Eddie’s eyes. Finally. And then Steve blinks long and slow.

When Steve cracks his eyes open again he’s greeted by the wall of his and Eddie’s bedroom instead of the white of the bathroom. His head is still pounding but at least it’s dark in here, the curtains are drawn and he has a feeling even if they were open only the moon would greet him. He knows Eddie’s not currently in the room because the air feels still, and distantly he thinks he can hear movement in the kitchen.

Shit, dinner. He was supposed to cook dinner tonight. He hears the small creak of the door opening and he shuts his eyes again – he’s not ready to see or talk to Eddie yet. Embarrassment heats his face remembering how much he cried earlier, not that Eddie hasn’t seen him in worse states. But Steve Harrington taken down by a simple headache? Stupid. Can’t even contribute to the house like Eddie. Can’t keep up with Dustin when he talks. Can’t be happy for his best friend when she lands a date.

“Hey, baby. Gotta wake up, I want you to take some medicine and drink some water.” A gentle hand is on Steve’s calf, rubbing slightly to ‘wake’ him. He burrows deeper into the blankets instead of rolling over.

“Baby…” And now Eddie just sounds disheartened, another person Steve needs to apologize to. Eddie first, for crying for no reason. Then Dustin for not listening to his rant. Then Robin for not being more excited for her. “Medicine and then water, then you can sleep some more. Come on.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve rolls over, tugging the blanket with him . He’s miserable and can’t think of anything better than sleep. Tomorrow he can make it up to Eddie; make him breakfast, do the laundry, make a grocery list, ask him how handing out with the guys went, check in about -

“-vie, I need you to focus for just a couple minutes. Where do you keep going? Get out of that head of yours, can’t imagine it’s helping your migraine.” The words are whispered and Steve blinks at Eddie. Brown eyes meet his and he manages a small smile.

“Sorry.”

“No need for all that. If you’d listened the first time you’d know I don’t mind. I love getting to take care of you. I love you. Stop worrying about whatever it is, there’s nothing you need to make up for – so no more apologies.” Eddie’s so earnest when he talks, a smile on his face causing small dimples to form. He’s holding a glass of water in one hand and a couple of pills in the other, but it’s the damp washcloth Steve can see draped on his wrist that brings a tear to his eye. Doesn’t matter if Eddie never said those three words again, his actions say them enough. Damp wash cloths when Steve’s head hurts, standing up for Steve when one of the kid’s decides they don’t want to explain a reference they make, or even when he flashes him a knowing smile behind Robin’s head when she’s talking about Chrissy. He’s full of love, and no matter how much Steve might feel like he’s messed up – he knows Eddie’s got enough love for him too.

“Hey, why are we crying? Sit up and take these.” With a small sniffle Steve nods, sits up, and takes the medicine. The washcloth is cool on his skin where Eddie rests it, letting him burrow back into the blankets – and the last thing he feels is a gentle kiss to his cheek before sleep takes him again.

#everyone say thank you to a new friend helping me with this idea and looking this over for me 💛#steve harrington #Steve harrington has migraines #I just gave him the same migraines I have #eddie munson #is a sweetheart #don't worry guys #robin and Chrissy had a great picnic date and Chrissy def kissed her finally #robin tells Steve all about it on Sunday bc he DEF does not go to work on Saturday #too busy cuddling with eddie #ANYWAY #steddieangstyaugust #hurt/comfort #stranger things #speaking Saturday #valentine writes

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moonkake-143 · 4 months ago

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Memories of You | S.H.

A Steve Harrington x fem!reader oneshot

Word Count: 1.3k

Summery: Steve remembers how he fell in love with you and finally knows what love really is.

This isn't edited like at all but I wrote it the other night at like 3am and idk I felt like sharing. It's something I needed to write and I hope you all like it! Steve might be ooc but oh well lol

Steve Harrington was never observant, but he only was when it came to you. You met him in high school. He saw you in English class hidden behind a book, nose crinkled and eyes wide in awe at the words on the page. He smelled the sun on your skin as he passed you by as you talked with a long haired boy. But he was with Nancy, his eyes casted away from you and onto her with pure adoration. Or was it? Steve wasn’t sure how he felt with her, just that it felt right and safe. Then one day you ran into him in the halls, it was his fault of course. He was spacing out and turned a corner and there you were. His large frame had knocked you down and he was quick to help you.

“Watch where you’re- oh it’s you…”

Your voice dripped like honey in his ears and he swore he felt his heart pounding out of his chest. Felt the sweetness on his tongue but this was not the time for that.

“You’ve heard of me?”

He tried to be suave, tried to channel his long dead King Steve persona. But to no avail he cringed inside and apologized.

“It’s hard not to hear of you but it’s alright I should have been careful.”

You looked away from him and to the ground. You didn’t want him to perceive you, didn’t want problems with his friends. So you quickly gathered your stuff and scurried away like a terrified mouse.

Steve simply stared at you before apologizing again. He tried to hide his awkwardness with a smile but the bell rang and you were lost to the sea of bodies along the halls.

Steve remembers the day you kissed him. You were yelling at him about something he doesn’t remember. Maybe about the kids, school work, hell his parents? He can’t remember, all he can picture from that day is the way you grabbed him by the collar to shut him up with a kiss. A stark contrast to the shyness he was used to. He was stunned at first, his mind going blank, your lips the only thing he could imagine. They were soft and you tasted sweet, like strawberry chapstick. He remembers how wide you smiled after he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you to kiss him again. How he didn’t want to stop kissing you, his lips kissing every inch of your face. You giggled and he swore the world disappeared. With Nancy he felt it was right.

But with you it was perfect, it was everything.

Steve remembers the first “I love you” it was after he escaped the Russians. He was so badly beat up but he could only think about seeing you again. He was terrified to think he would die without ever telling you, hoping and praying that you were alright. That you were as far away from this as possible. Once the mind flayer was vanquished he ran straight to you. You were tired and looked a mess, tears stained your cheeks as you ran into his embrace. He held you tight, hoisting you from the ground like nothing. You were sobbing then and he couldn’t stop himself from crying with you. His voice fractured as he spoke.

“I didn’t know if I would see you again, I thought they were gonna kill me down there. But I just couldn’t let them get me knowing I had to come back to say I love you. God I love you so much sweetheart. You mean the world to me, I’ll fight monsters and Russians all over again if it meant I could kiss you one last time.”

“Steve you idiot, I love you too. Fuck, you could have died! I love you so fucking much don’t ever fight anything without me next to you okay?”

“Yes dear I am an idiot but I’m your idiot.”

“Shut up and kiss me you sap.”

And Steve did just that.

Steve remembers saying “I do”. It was a nice summer day and the ceremony was small. It was attended by all of your friends and family. Robin was your “maid of honor” of course and she wore a suit because it’s Robin. Dustin was Steve’s best man because of course he was. His parents didn’t show, which was for the best he thought. His father never cared for you and his mother didn’t really try to sway him. But he didn’t care this was his day with you.

He stood at the end of the alter with his suit and tie and his hair slicked back. He was so nervous, so clammy and when the music started and he saw you walking down with Hopper, he was stunned. You were perfect, beyond perfect that he couldn’t help but shed tears. Everyone awed and you smiled behind the veil. He sniffled when Hopper pat his back and handed you to him. Slowly he pulled up the veil and he swore he saw the stars in your eyes.

“You’re so beautiful…”

“And you’re so handsome…”

Once the music settled and the crowd settled they began the ceremony. When asked for vows you pulled out a piece of paper and blew on it as faux dust spread. Everyone laughed and you giggled and he was laughing. You cleared your throat and he smiled bright.

“Steven Harrington, yes I’m using your government name. We met when you mowed me down in the hallway in high school. But I’ll be honest to say that before that I had always kept an eye on you. You intrigued me, like a puzzle I couldn’t solve. However when I got to know you I realized that you weren’t a puzzle to be solved. But someone to be loved and cherished. You are an amazing man, you’re kind hearted, courageous and have amazing hair- but to me you are all those things and more. You are not a perfect man, nor am I a perfect woman but you are everything. I love you so much, that I want to give you everything because you deserve it, and I hope I can give that to you. Because you are my everything. Thank you for smacking into me in the hallway because I wouldn’t have gotten to marry my best friend.”

You were shaking the entire time, he could tell. Your eyes were full of tears but you tried to keep them back to keep from ruining the makeup. You took a breath and looked up at him when you finished. When it was his turn he didn’t bother to pull out a paper because he knew exactly what to say.

“My darling sweetheart, I was always observant when it came to you. I noticed you in English class first, where you were hidden behind a book. Your nose would scrunch up and you would have wide eyes when you read the words. When you talked with your friends I would walk by only to smell the sun on your skin and feel like I was home. I was thinking about you that day we met. How you confused me, how you made me feel things I never felt before. How much I wanted to know your heart and your mind. You are a firecracker of a woman, you yelled at me all the time. But I deserved it to be fair. But you are kind, courageous and have the best smile I have ever seen in my entire life. My love for you can not be determined by a number because the number is so massive that it’s inconceivable. You were my everything before I was yours. I loved you before you kissed me that night we fought over something small. I love you now and I’ll love you until the world crumbles and turns to ash and there's nothing but rock. I want to give you the world and more because you deserve it. Thank you for being alive, for dealing with me. Thank you for giving me a chance when I didn’t deserve it. I love you so much.”

Steve remembers kissing you surrounded by festive cheer and he finally knows what love is.

#steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington oneshot #stranger things

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milfs69420 · 8 days ago

Text

You belong with me - Part II

Natasha ran from her home country when she was 18, and has since been working at a stripclub in NYC. One night she spots a woman who seems all too familiar and turns out to be her childhood lover. While getting to know each other all over again, they discover new truths and old lies.

-Natasha Romanoff x Katya Petrova -Wordcount: 5,33K -Warnings: mentions of violence -A/N: I know it took a while but it's finally here, enjoy. Once again borrowed @katyaromanoffpetrova her babies, please note that Katya is a character she created, you can find the story through her page. I might actually hate this, but I hope you guys don't :)

We shall ignore any spelling or grammar errors for the sake of my sanity.

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!!

It took until Friday night, for Natasha to realise she had absolutely no clue where Katya was taking her. She spent the whole week thinking about seeing the brunette again, but she hadn’t thought much about the details of it all. Since she didn’t know where they were going, Natasha had no idea what to wear. Would it be cold or warm? Did it call for casual clothes or something fancy? Whatever she would wear, it had to impress Katya, but she couldn’t try too hard, obviously.

Natasha was going insane. She felt like a teenage girl all over again, worrying about impressing someone with her looks. Someone she hadn’t seen in years, no less. This whole situation took over far more thoughts than she would’ve liked, so she spent the rest of the night doing chores to distract herself, until she ended up falling asleep on the couch with Liho on her lap.

The next morning, she immediately regretted having ended up in that position. Her back was aching and her neck was stiff. She made her way to the kitchen and did some stretches while waiting on her coffee, when she noticed a box on the table. Packages were delivered downstairs, so Clint or Maria must have brought it here earlier in the morning. She went to take a closer look at it and spotted the label.

Natasha Romanoff

There was no address on the box, only her name, so someone had personally dropped it off here. Someone with very fancy handwriting, it seemed, and it got Natasha’s hopes up for the contents of the package. Before she could open it though, Maria walked through the kitchen door.

“You got a secret admirer, Romanoff?” The dark haired woman smiled at her teasingly.

Natasha decided it was best to ignore the comment for now, it was far too early in the morning to be explaining an entire story about her childhood lover. “Did you see who dropped it off?”

“Some odd guy, took himself much too serious. He was wearing a suit and everything.”

The Russian hated the disappointment she felt upon learning that it wasn’t Katya who had brought it. She suspected that whoever this mystery man was, had been there on behalf of the brunette. First, she tells her that she’s having a car pick the redhead up, now this. It seemed Katya was very well off these days, how she made a life for herself though, Natasha had no clue.

After talking to Maria some more, she made her way back to her own space and set the box down on her table. It seemed Natasha wasn’t the only one curious about the mysterious box, seeing as Liho hopped onto the table as soon as she had set it down. The cat inspected the package before sitting down next to it, as if to tell the redhead to hurry up and open it already.

“Okay fine, I’ll open it. Stop staring at me you little shit.”

Natasha could swear she saw the cat’s sharp claws make an appearance out of her soft paws, and decided it would be best to get on with opening the box. Not wanting to mess around with the cardboard for too long, she simply decided to stick a knife into top and drag it all the way to the bottom. In hindsight, that could have turned out quite badly, but lucky for her whatever was in the package was protected by another box. This second box was incredibly fancy, adorned with her name written in gold on the lid of it, and whatever was in there must be worth a sizeable amount of money.

She threw the cardboard to the side and opened up the package still on the table. Inside was a semi transparant kind of wrapping paper, with a note on top. As Natasha picked up the card, she saw yet another box on top of the paper. This one was small and flat, and the redhead had a hunch for what was inside. Before opening anything though, she flipped over the card to see what it said.

Dear Natalia,

I sincerely hope, that you look as good in this, as I pictured you would.

The redhead wanted to be annoyed about Katya simply refusing to use her new name, she really did. But the idea that the brunette had been thinking about her, picturing what she looked like in whatever was hiding in that package, that idea drove her slightly insane.

She put the card aside and opened the small box, inside was some of the most gorgeous jewellery she’d ever seen. A delicate gold necklace, with an hourglass shape made out of rubies hanging off of it. The shape alone, was enough to have the gears in her head turning at a rapid pace. Memories of her teen years came back to her, when she’d received the news that she had to leave her foster family, and therefore the town she had met Katya in. The goodbye had been emotional, and the brunette had given her a ring to remember her by. A gold ring with a red hourglass symbol on it, one that Natasha couldn’t wear anymore because of its size.

Next to the necklace were several earrings and rings, all gold and some with red gemstones adorning them, and a bracelet with a charm connected to it. A small dagger, no doubt a hint to the nights they used to share, when Katya would teach her how to throw knives with unmatched precision, though she never got quite as good as the brunette. All of these reminders of their past made Natasha feel more than she had expected. Whereas she usually felt mainly sadness about that time of her life, she now felt an overwhelming sense of excitement. Hope overtook her at the thought of getting know Katya all over again.

She carefully put aside the box and removed the wrapping paper. What she found was a carefully folded garment. She picked it up and let it drop into its natural shape, and she couldn’t help but gasp. In her hands was the most beautiful slip dress she’d ever seen, smooth expensive fabric with a wonderful dark emerald green colour. There was a slit in the side of dress, one that looked to go up her leg quite high, and Natasha couldn’t be more excited to put it on.

Since it was only morning, Natasha had to use all her willpower to leave this on the table for now and go on with her day, until she had to go and get ready. With every task that she busied herself with, she glanced over at that deep green coloured dress, and she made it until seven that evening until she caved. Natasha felt utterly ridiculous, standing in front of her bed and looking at her laid out outfit. She didn’t do this. She didn’t get ready for things two hours in advance, and she sure as hell didn’t worry about needing to impress someone with her looks.

Yet here she stood, freshly showered, shaved and putting in extra effort to make her hair look soft and silky, and bring out her natural curl that she knew Katya loved. All throughout her hair routine she recalled memories from her teen years. She thought of how Katya used to play with her hair, how she would make tiny braids and how Natasha would let her do absolutely anything that she pleased. The redhead came to the realisation now that she would probably still let the other Russian do as she pleased to her, though maybe in more daring ways now, than back then.

To hint at their shared memories, Natasha made a few small braids in her hair. She knew that Katya would understand their meaning, and that made it all the more fun. The braids also helped keep the hair out of her face as she was putting on her makeup, which she wouldn’t dare to do with that expensive dress on already. She kept her look quite natural for the most part, just the way she liked it, and finished it off with a darker lip tint that she knew she could pull off in the best way. She could say that she made that decision purely because she thought the shade was pretty, but in reality she was hoping to have Katya pay extra attention to them, but she would never admit that, of course.

As she was putting on the dress and jewellery she was overly aware of how far ahead her thoughts were. Rationally thinking, she should hear the brunette out first, see why she’s here and why now. But her thoughts weren’t rational. As much as she loved Clint and Maria and everyone she had in her life, she never meant to end up here. She wanted out, out of this place, out of this job, out of her loneliness. Katya’s arrival had given her so much hope that she believed it may actually all happen. And so she found herself here, feeling like a teenager all over again, mind clouded with daydreams about what she and her childhood lover could potentially become in the future.

….

After sitting and waiting, and feeling like a fool, for well over an hour, Natasha could finally go outside and meet whatever mystery person was picking her up. She hadn’t needed those two hours to get ready, usually she’s done well under one hour, or way less, she simply got too excited over the whole situation. She’d been right about her assumption that the slit on her right thigh went up quite high, and she was certain that Katya had chosen that on purpose. Natasha didn’t mind that at all, not because she was used to showing off her body, but because Katya was the one person who she’d gladly show all of her to.

Right as she walked outside, a black SUV showed up at the curb, and before she was even close to the car, a man had stepped out. Dressed in a classic black suit, probably an expensive one, he walked to the other side of the car. As he turned to open the door for Natasha, she could see that he was wearing some sort of communications device in his ear, it made her wonder what kind of security measurements were present, and why they were needed.

The man hadn’t said a word, not when she got in the car, not during the drive, and he didn’t speak either when he opened the door for her to get out. As Natasha stepped out of the car she took in her surroundings, she caught a glimpse of the busy street in the city centre before she was ushered towards the building in front of her. She walked towards the entrance of the seemingly very classy restaurant, and the mystery man opened the door for her. He guided her inside, but as soon as the tables came into view she didn’t need his directions anymore. There, in the middle of an otherwise empty restaurant, sat the person who’d been keeping her up all week.

Natasha took notice of the guards standing in every corner, and she assumed there were more in the rest of the building. However wary she was of all this security, she walked towards the table with a smile. This time it wasn’t some man in a tailored suit showing manners, it was Katya who got up and pulled out the chair on the other side of the table for Natasha. Once she sat down, and the brunette had settled back in the chair opposite of her, she took a moment to observe the woman in front of her before speaking up.

“This is an awful lot of guards for a dinner date, don’t you think?” The redhead still wore that charming smile on her face. She wasn’t afraid, or hostile, and neither was Katya. She was genuinely curious about why all of this was needed, the guards, the empty restaurant, everything.

“Oh so this is a date now?” Katya’s face was adorned with that oh so captivating smirk that, if it had been on anyone else’s face, would’ve annoyed Natasha to no end.

“Well I don’t usually dress up quite this fancy for any other occasion, do you?”

Katya took that as her cue to, unashamedly, check out the redhead opposing her. She let her eyes wander where she pleased, and she knew that Natasha didn’t mind. In fact, she was doing the exact same to the brunette. It seemed that suits were her thing these days, as she was wearing yet another, no doubt tailor made, dark suit that fit her exactly right. With all this staring back and forth, and tension growing in the air, Katya decided to tease Natasha just a bit more. She took off her blazer and put it over the back of her chair, and to finish it off she rolled up her sleeves to reveal her smooth, ink adorned skin.

“You look beyond gorgeous in that dress, Natalia. Just as I hoped you would.”

“So you’ve been thinking of me then? Picturing me all dressed up, just for you.”

The brunette didn’t admit anything, instead she just smiled at Natasha and handed her one of the menus that had been on the side of the table.

“I suppose we should get drinks and appetizers first, before getting into the details of this whole situation.” They quietly went over their menus before a sharply dressed woman came up to them, asking for their orders. When all was said and done, and they’d put in their requests for the evening, they received their drinks and were left alone for the time being.

“So are you going to explain all the security measures?” Natasha was getting impatient now. As fun as the banter was, she was here to get answers. Katya could sense the change in her attitude, and adjusted her own accordingly.

“You’ll understand the details later on, for now let’s just say there’s plenty of people who’d love to get their hands on me. And not in a pleasant way.” The brunette just couldn’t help but joke around, and Natasha hated that she liked it. She had to fight the blush that tried to make an appearance on her cheeks, because she too, wanted to get her hands on Katya. Though not in a way that called for all these guards present.

“So what have you done then? To piss off people that badly.”

At that question, Katya seemed to get slightly uncomfortable. “To get to that, we need to go back to the past first. Even before we met, hell even before I was born.”

Now this piqued the redhead’s interest. She hadn’t gone into this with any expectations, but she certainly didn’t think there would be this much history to the story. And the sorrow that seemed to take over Katya had not only made her curious, but already furious at whoever was responsible for whatever bad things had happened to her childhood lover.

“So, as you already know, I used to live with my uncle.” She started her story. “And I’ve told you before that my mom passed shortly after my birth, and other than my uncle there wasn’t anyone to take care of me.”

So far, this was all information that Natasha knew already, but she understood that the other Russian had to make sure she was aware of the foundation for the story. She didn’t speak, and decided against interrupting Katya at any point. The look on her face made it clear that this was a serious conversation, so all banter was to be stopped for now.

“I obviously don’t know what things looked like from your side of the street, but I can say with absolute certainty that things at Dreykov’s place were worse than they seemed. I think everyone in the town was aware that he was involved in some shady stuff, many suspected some kind of mob activity going on. The truth is actually worse. You see, he didn’t deal drugs, or weapons or any of that stuff, he dealt people. Girls, to be specific.”

Natasha tried to keep her face blank, she didn’t want her expressions to affect the woman opposite of her. She had heard her fair share of theories about what went on in the building across the street, but she hadn’t known about this.

“Some girls, depending on age, were sold to disgusting creeps. However, kids like me, who didn’t have a clue about the world yet and had everything to learn, we were trained. I won’t go into details for now, but we were trained not only to fight, but to kill. We were taught about every single way you can end someone’s life, and if any of the girls failed a part of training, they became the target.”

Katya fell silent after that, and Natasha didn’t bother filling the silence either. This moment was utilised by the staff to bring over their drinks and first course. The redhead muttered a quick thank you, but didn’t take her eyes off of the somber looking brunette, who cleared her throat and pushed herself to keep going.

“You have to understand, that while I may have seemed kind and innocent to you at the time, I have seen and done things you never want to imagine. To many, I’m a monster, and I completely understand if that’s how you feel about me too.” As she said that, Katya seemed about ready to watch the other Russian leave and never come back.

“And I need you to understand something in return.” Natasha looked her in the eye to make sure that every word reached her. “You were forced to do all of that stuff, I don’t know exactly what went down but it sounds like a life or death situation. You did what you had to do to survive, Katya. You were the only person that showed me any kindness at all. I mean, I thought that my foster parents liked me, but they threw me out with the garbage. You were the only person to be honest to me, you said you loved me and you meant it. I will never think that you’re a monster.”

The brunette looked down at her still untouched food, like she was taking all of those words in, unsure of how to respond. Then, she looked up at Natasha with a sadness in her eyes that wasn’t there before.

“They liked you.”

Natasha looked up at her confused. “What?”

“Your foster parents, they liked you. They had every intention of keeping you around.”

“You’re lying, they made me pack my bags and leave without explanation.”

This made the redhead upset, Katya was implying that she may have had a chance at the happy family she had always craved, and she didn’t take this lightly.

“Natalia, I’m deeply sorry for what I’m about to tell you, and I understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore after this.” Katya took a deep breath before continuing.

“Besides the girls and teachers, there was a load of guards involved with the organisation. I guess someone had noticed me sneaking out at night and a guard followed me when I went to meet you. I don’t know exactly what they saw but it was enough for them to know that we were more than what we were supposed to be. They couldn’t get rid of me like the other girls, not only had I become an important asset, but I’m also related to Dreykov.”

The brunette fell silent for a moment to prepare for what she had to say next. She couldn’t bear to look Natasha in the eye, knowing that she was causing all the hurt that was visible on the redhead’s face. She was fully prepared at this point, to break Natasha’s heart and watch leave.

“With some very convincing threats, and a lot of money, Dreykov got rid of you instead. He made them kick you out, and punished me in ways that made me wish he’d killed me instead. I didn’t know any of this at the time, he actually made me believe that you had been killed for the longest time. I found out a few years ago, I’m so sorry Natalia.”

“Stop calling me that.” Up until now, the name had only slightly annoyed Natasha, but in this emotional state she couldn’t handle any of it. She had to fight the emotions that seemed to get stuck in her throat, and tried her best to keep the tears from escaping. That name was a far too prominent reminder of the past, and it was too much for her to handle right now.

“I don’t want to hate you.” She looked at woman opposite of her. “I loved you, Katya. Hell, I’m half convinced I could fall in love all over again right now, so I do not want to resent you even the slightest bit. I wouldn’t change anything we did back then, even if the outcome hurts me so deeply. Right now though, I need you to work with me here. I’ve changed since we were teenagers, I had to. I needed a fresh start and that came in the form of this new person, Natasha. I need you to respect that.”

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry, Natasha.”

Katya dared to offer her a slight smile, in the hope of bringing some comfort to this situation. Natasha looked her in the eyes, like she was searching for something, anything that could help her navigate the turmoil of emotions she was experiencing. She saw a change behind Natasha’s eyes, one that indicated that she had put her emotions aside for now to keep herself together for the rest of the evening. There was no doubt though, that it would take time for her to let everything sink in, and learn to live with all that knowledge.

“I’m not saying we need to forget everything we used to know about each other, but we need to get to know each other all over again. That is, of course, if you intend on staying around to keep talking.”

Katya seemed almost surprised at how the redhead was dealing with all of this information. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d want me around after this conversation.”

It made Natasha sad, how badly the other Russian seemed to think of herself. Katya’s self worth seemed to have been crushed, and at that moment the redhead decided that it would be her mission to restore it. She needed her to see that she wasn’t a monster, she was just a human who’s been put in the most inhumane situations and did what she had to in order to survive.

“Well, I could always change my mind after you tell me the rest of the story.” She put that signature smirk on her face in an attempt to lighten the mood a bit.

“I’m guessing that you mean how I ended up here?”

“Tell me everything, what happened after I left, how you ended up in this position. It seems that you’re quite well off, with all your security and fancy clothes and everything.”

Katya smiled at her, silently agreeing with her. Firstly though, they finally finished their food and received the main course for the evening. While enjoying their food Katya shared the rest of her story. She told Natasha about the bad, painful things she had to endure after they’d been found out. She told her about how from that moment on, she started truly hating Dreykov, and started plotting against him.

Katya had thought that he had been responsible for killing her childhood lover, and it filled her with an incredible amount of rage. So as she got older, she started looking for ways to not only put an end to this organisation, but to burn everything associated with it to the ground. Soon after she turned eighteen she had gathered all that she needed, and after a lot of violence all guards had been taken care of and all the girls had sided with her.

She told Natasha about that final encounter with Dreykov, how he had realised that this would be the end for him no matter what. In a last attempt to maintain his power he had told Katya about what had really happened to her secret girlfriend. She had smiled at him as she put her knife in his chest, not only because he was finally gone, but because she now knew that Natasha was alive.

And so she’d gone on to lead all those girls that she has trained with. She’d downloaded all data from her uncle’s organisation and they had set off on a mission. They had a list of every organisation, government, politician and business associate of Dreykov, and the task was to eliminate them, whatever it takes. Along the way, Katya had made a name for herself and built a network. Most of those targets didn’t want to be convinced to stop what they were doing, and therefore had to be eliminated in a rather permanent manner. Now, even people in high power positions feared her, and nobody dared to mess with her.

That more or less summed up how she got to where she is now. She took money and weapons from organisations that they’d taken down, and thanks to her network of powerful people there were plenty of people investing in her cause. She’s built an army over the years, an army of people who move in the shadows, who take down anyone that stands in their way.

“So I guess that’s the rest of that story you wanted.” Katya finished off her explanation as dessert was delivered to their table.

“Almost, you still have to tell me how you found me, and why you showed up just now.”

“Well, finding you was actually quite easy. Your boss, Fury as he likes to call himself.”

“You mean Nick”

“Yes, I mean Nick. I also refuse to call him that ridiculous name. Anyway he got in contact with some shady people about a year ago, they tried to involve him in trafficking business to get women for his club. He wanted nothing to do with it and wanted them gone, so people from my organisation sorted it out for him. Initially I had nothing to do with it, but we do background checks on everyone that gets involved with us.”

Natasha listened intently, she had her suspicions about her boss getting involved with something, she just hasn’t known what, or who. She’d seen him on the phone and whatever kept him busy seemingly required loads of secrecy.

“Now this is embarrassing to admit, but here we go. I had an order communicated to everyone involved with what we do. If your name ever came up anywhere, I am to be notified right away.”

She was interrupted by laughter coming from the other side of the table. Natasha thought it was funny, utterly adorable and also more attractive than she was willing to admit, that Katya had gone to such lengths. It warmed her heart that the brunette had never forgotten about finding her.

“Okay if you’re done laughing, I’d like to continue.”

“Oh I don’t think you need to, it’s easy. You found my name, my new one, and found out that I work and live at the club, and that’s when you decided to start lurking in the shadows to watch me on stage. I hope you enjoyed the shows, by the way.”

Natasha felt more confident now, she felt like she finally knew who was really sitting across the table. It saddened her that Katya had not expected the conversation to get this far. The love she had for the other woman back when they were teens, was the truest love that she’s experienced to date. Even with all the heavy subjects that they touched on tonight, the transition to that light, playful dynamic they were so good at was easy.

“Oh I enjoyed the shows alright, nothing beats that look on your face when I said your name though.”

After dessert had finished, they sat and talked for a little while longer, while enjoying their drinks. Neither woman could deny how much they enjoyed each other’s company. Even with all these new truths, and old lies, coming to light, there was an undeniable familiarity between them. As the night came to an end, they found themselves looking for excuses to stay right where they are. So they found themselves lingering outside on the pavement, delaying the inevitable separation.

“So, will I get any more mysterious invites like this, or can you text me like a normal woman?”

Natasha couldn’t help but put that signature smirk on her face, just in case Katya needed a little extra convincing. She offered up her phone, and the brunette took it right away to put in her contact information. She immediately called herself with the phone so she could save the redhead’s phone number to hers as well.

“You’ll be taken back to the club with the same car, to ensure you get home safely.”

“Don’t you worry, I know how to defend myself much better than you’d expect.”

“Do I ever get to hear that story?”

Natasha smiled at her. “Sure, on our second date, darling.”

With that, she took a step towards Katya. She leaned towards her and gave the brunette a kiss on the cheek and stepped backwards again, showing that charming smile one more time before turning around and walking towards the car. It took more effort than she was willing to admit, to not turn around and stay for a little while longer. Instead, she got in the car and it took off to bring her back safely, and she immediately missed the presence of her childhood lover.

Meanwhile, Katya was left standing there on the pavement, looking at the car as it took off. This strong, powerful woman who was feared by so many, had been rendered useless because of such a simple gesture. If she had lost all self control, she might have reached out to touch her cheek right where the redhead’s lips had been. However, she was still surrounded by security guards and while she knew they had a massive amount of respect for her, she did need to uphold her image and couldn’t look like a total fool.

That night, both women let their thoughts wander to the other. Natasha was eager to rekindle the flame that had once been ablaze between them, and she could swear the sparks of it were still there like they never left. She was eager for a potential new life, where she didn’t feel this miserable and lonely so often. A life where she had someone to talk to at the end of every day, someone to share her joy with, and her sadness. If she let her mind truly get ahead of her, the future looked awfully domestic and joyful, both things she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Katya on the other hand only dared to let her thoughts go so far. Her upbringing had left her wary of people and filled with trust issues. As much as she’d love to be able to let Natasha right back in her life and go all in on exploring how good they can be together, she simply had to be sensible. But as her phone screen lit up with a goodnight and thank you text from the very person she was thinking of, she couldn’t stop a smile from appearing on her face.

#crownem #crownem writes #katandnat #katyaromanoffpetrova #forgotten ghost series #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanov #marvel #the avengers #mcu #black widow #fanfic #writers on tumblr

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love-lilly02 · 8 months ago

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The Challenge- Ch. 7

An- hey. (drops random half edited chapter that’s probably the shortest one i’ve ever written) see ya🚶🏾‍♀️

A total of two months, three and a half weeks and six days.

That was how long you had been MIA. Each time another day was added to that count, you grew more restless than before. You wanted to go home, to sleep in your bed, eat american food, damnit just to have a different color shirt to wear.

And yet you were still stuck here.

Each day started off the same. You would wake up at the ass crack of dawn, eat something akin to breakfast with Nikolai and wait to see if today was the day you were going back. Instead, he would silently place a knife on the table— some days it was different— and walk out of the room. The same routine, every day. for the past two months.

It was enough to drive any normal person insane. and it had almost driven you insane, definitely would have if you weren’t in the military.

You had managed to work up the courage to ask why he didn’t immediately send you back one day, why he tolerated you staying with him for this long.

“If i send you back they do things different. Look at you oddly, treat you weirder. Here you can rest, regain your skills.” He had said, not pausing to spare you a glance.

“I take you back when you ready.”

according to him, you had not been ready in a long time.

you never really gave up hope. Not actually, you knew logically at some point he had to bring you back to them. And going back on your own was a suicide mission, one even worse than the thing that had gotten you into this mess. So you waited.

If it took five months or seven years, you would wait.

Kate Laswell was a woman of action.

She knew this for a fact, it had been thrown back into her face so many times she lost body parts to count it. Which is why your disappearance bothered her so much. You were a person of action as well, it’s what prompted her to introduce you to the 141. So then why had you been MIA for the past three months? The thought sat there constantly, turning even the best days sour.

That, and what you were doing to the team.

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out, although you did have to look a bit harder to see the changes. Especially in people like Ghost and Price, whereas Kyle and Soap might as well have worn their emotions on their sleeves. She wished she could do something to help, to find where exactly you were. Or if you were alive, even.

All given evidence suggested otherwise.

She had replayed the shitty camera footage of your disappearance, watched it frame by frame, pixel by pixel. Mutiple times, and she couldn’t figure out how there could be a way for you to get out of there. It just wouldn’t have added up.

But she didn’t give up there, of course she wouldn’t.

She kept searching, looking for any sign of you. As a civilian, one of the russian’s captives, anyone. anything could come into play, you were a smart girl and everyone knew it.

Unfortunately, that also meant you could cover up your tracks well.

It took another month for anything good to come up. And that something good came as salvation always does.

In the form of a call.

John had made an attempt to push the situation out of his mind, to allow you to handle your own business. His thoughts screamed at him to be more active, to do something more, but there was literally nothing for it.

Or so he thought.

The call came in while he was walking out of a meeting, silently dreading the mound of paperwork he would now have to do. When he saw the caller ID he had to do a double take, and he rushed to answer the call.

“Nik?”

“Captain. It’s been a while, no?”

“Damn right it has. Makes me scared.”

His old friend laughed, and Price could imagine the way he was shaking his head.

“Yes, yes. But i have gift—what? okay, okay sheesh. I have… surprise… for you.”

Price just stared. “Is there someone else there? What’s goin on Nik?”

There was silence on the other end of the line, then a lot of rusting.

“Um. Hey.”

Price almost dropped the phone.

The process of getting you back wasn’t as hard as they thought it would be, but it certainly took a very long time.

In reality it took two weeks. But to them each day felt like a decade.

The entire flight took 11 hours, and they weren’t allowed to meet you halfway (something about using military vehicles for non military purposes. all four boys thought that was absolute bull shit but they couldn’t do anything about it) So they did the next best thing.

wait.

And they waited. and waited. Each time a chopper landed on the helipad they were rushing to the window, seeing if it was you. It got to the point that they had someone constantly surveying that area of the base, just so they could be immediately notified.

And finally, finally you were back.

It was a whole ordeal, theatrics that even soap had to roll his eyes at. The moment you got off the plane you were swamped with people asking questions, doctors trying to assess how you were alive and unharmed, people just staring in awe.

But you ignored them all, scanning the crowd with a panicked expression. It didn’t disappear till you saw the four of them, standing far, far away from the mob of people surrounding you.

Nik walked out behind you, placing a steadying hand on your shoulder. The two of you made your way down the ramp to the group, and Price smiled for the first time in a long time when he saw you.

“Welcome back, kid.”

this was gona be an akward chapter anyways, i had NO idea how to write the reader's return. I'll make it up to you guys next time, pinkie promise

My Masterist

#cod x reader #poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost x reader

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steddieunderdogfics · 6 months ago

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This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @wynnyfryd! Wynnyfryd has 34 fics in the Stranger Things fandom and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

i don’t know, you figure it out

Plot Holes

biting you biting you biting you- oh! kissing you!

Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!

She's got some of the FUNNIEST writing in this fandom, and it's very snappy too like. She's an editing demon for sure, she can take a concept that I'd think would take paragraphs to explain and find the right words to make it hit just as hard with like, two sentences. I also really really love how descriptive her metaphors are, really visceral sometimes, and she's really good at writing realistic life events but still making them fun to read about even when it's about like, devastating shit. The sex she writes is also intense as hell! -- @griefabyss69

Below the cut, @wynnyfryd answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I am but a humble bisexual — I see two beautiful brown-eyed men makin’ beautiful brown eyes at each other, I go a little insane for two years. It is what it is.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

late-night moments of quiet hopeful hesitant intimacy over a shared joint or cigarette. Thin wisp of smoke between them, stars dancing in their eyes. Yeah. YEAHHHHHHH

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

This isn’t really a trope so much as a dynamic, but I love a good dipshit 4 dingus dialogue-heavy scene. Don’t get me wrong, I think Eddie and Steve can both be very smart and knowledgeable in their areas of interest/expertise, but these are two young dudes with no access to the internet. I love letting them be confidently incorrect dumbasses. Just ‘yes and’-ing each other’s stupidity while an exasperated third character begs for mercy.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

Well, this question is impossible and furthermore rude. This question came into my home and didn’t take its muddy boots off. This question never mailed me a thank you letter for my lovely wedding gift. That blender was expensive; the absolute nerve. No but seriously, I think The Lathe by palmviolet is going to stay with me forever.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’m a big fan of doing canon divergence from different jumping off points — the beauty of having characters live in the same small town their whole lives is that you get so many great opportunities for these “what if our paths crossed sooner” moments. I have some very loose notes for a S3 fic where Eddie is the movie theater employee who finds Steve and Robin in the bathroom after they escape the Russians, and I also have an old WIP set between S1 and S2 where lifeguard Steve rescues Eddie and then spends the summer teaching him how to swim. Would love to revisit those after I finish the trailer park AU (which I will be referring to as TPAU because my fingers are tired and because ‘toilet paper au’ makes me laugh.)

What is your writing process like?

Uhhhhh. 😂 I mean, for TPAU, basically just insert the scene from Dune 2 of Paul’s first sandworm ride: I’m shaking I’m sweating there is sand in my nostrils and I am surely about to die— oh wait, maybe I’ve actually got this? Am I actually doing it? Oh shit, look at me go! For one-shots I like to use a more structured outline and bracket method. I start by dividing my doc into numbered scenes, with each scene getting a notes section and a prose section, like this:

This format gives me a lot of freedom to switch up the order of scenes and to move between scenes so I avoid writer’s block. I can also jump ahead to scenes I really want to write without making a mess of my outline. Once I have something written in the prose section of each scene, I go back and work on replacing each bracket with prose until there are no brackets left. Lastly, I create a new blank doc and copy the prose over in order so I can read the full fic and work on edits from there.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I have been known to abuse a semicolon. And an em dash. And a conjunction at the start of a sentence. Yes, I do have ADHD. I’m also a lyricist, so I feel like my prose tends to stray into poetry territory pretty often.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

When I’m finished! Which is probably why I tend to stick to one-shots; I get impatient and want to post stuff the second it’s ready.

Which fic are you most proud of?

‘i don’t know, you figure it out’ for SURE. I’ve never written a fic this long or stuck to a writing project this consistently in my life. Like ever. The last time I even came close was my first NaNoWriMo when I was 16, which was, uh… years ago, plural, and I’ll leave it at that. 😂

How did you get the idea for i don’t know, you figure it out?

“There’s a dead rat on his doorstep.” That’s it. That first sentence/scene popped into my head while I was bored at work, and then I started thinking, “hey, you know what? I don’t know that anyone’s ever done a fic where Max and Steve trade places for S4; that might be fun.” And then NaNoWriMo was coming up, so I thought it would be cool to try live posting a fully improvised fic every day for a month to see how many words I could write. And then this tragic wet cat version of Steve Harrington grabbed me by the throat and took over my whole life.

When writing Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!, what was something you didn’t expect?

How SAPPY these two got!! My god, boys, I’m trying to write smut over here, stop having a beautiful existential crisis! (I blame Briston Maroney for that though lol, I think I listened to ‘Body’ like 1400 times that month.)

What inspired Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!?

@inklessletter posted this totally gorgeous art of Steve and Eddie recording themselves kissing, and I promptly lost my mind.

What was your favorite part to write from biting you biting you biting you- oh! kissing you!?

This exchange: Steve: “What? I’m just asking!” Robin: “You’re being embarrassing!” Steve: “No, you’re just embarrassed. There’s a difference.” Like it’s just so them lmao

How do/did you feel writing i don’t know, you figure it out?

You know when you set out on a long hike in the summer and three hours later your calves are screaming and you’re covered in sweat and your sunburn’s starting to itch and this one horse fly won’t fuck off and your cell phone doesn’t even get service out here so literally WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO YOURSELF, and then you climb that last hill and look out on the most beautiful landscape you’ve ever seen in your silly little life? Basically that.

What was the most difficult part of writing Plot Holes?

Ooh, that one was fun! The only real difficulty was trying to keep it to a microfic because the concept could definitely be fleshed out to a full story — @griefabyss69 and I were joking around about “what if someone did ‘plot hole’ for the @steddiemicrofic prompt fill?” and then that fic just fell out of my head in about 15 minutes.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

For sure! I’m currently super proud of the graveyard scene in the most recent update of TPAU — I don’t write true horror often, but I love horror so it was really fun to give it a try! Favorite line from any fic is probably this reference to ‘You’re Divine’ in my fic Monsoon Season because I love uncomfortably-aroused prude Eddie, and his internal monologue cracks me up every time I think about it: Freddie Monsoon’s debut novel is called The Fourth Chime, and it is, as far as Eddie can tell, the first installment in a series of unapologetically filthy fuck fests about a man whose lover gets flung into an alternate dimension during an apocalyptic event and miraculously returns as some sort of… sexy bat-boy with a fucking horse dong and a bite kink. Critics are calling it “the most romantic novel of the last decade.” It’s me; I’m Critics.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

My main project right now is finishing TPAU if it kills me, but beyond that, I have a few one-shots for @subeddieweek in the works, including a collab with @griefabyss69 that I’m so so SO excited to share. It’s hot, it’s funny, I can’t wait for y’all to read it.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

First of all, as @wormdebut would say: I think you’re pretty. Thank you so much for all your hard work! I love this blog, and I love answering questions <3 Secondly: - Preheat your oven to 400 degrees. - Toss cubed sweet potatoes and parsnips, sliced sweet onion, and fresh garlic in a mix of olive oil, salt, pepper, and rosemary, and then spread in a single layer on a foil-lined baking sheet. - Bake for ~40-45 minutes. (Potatoes and parsnips should be soft without being mushy when you poke them with a fork.) - Prep your sauce: I made a dijon drizzle situation by mixing olive oil mayo, a dash of dijon mustard, lemon juice, salt, pepper, garlic powder, and a splash of water, but you could also add a little dab of hot sauce, bbq sauce, or different mustards. Basically just grab like four condiments out of your fridge and play around with the flavors you like until you make a mix that’s thin enough to pour. - Drizzle roasted veggies with sauce. - Enjoy a very tasty side dish (or do what I did and eat the whole sheet as a meal like some sort of parsnip goblin because you were too lazy to make the main dish after chopping all those veggies) okay thank you love you byeeeee

Thank you to our author, @wynnyfryd, and our nominator, @griefabyss69! See more of Wynnyfryd's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#writer's spotlight #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #ao3 writer #steddie writers #writer's wednesday

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scekrex · 7 months ago

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Imagine sinner!Adam walking inside the Hazbin hotel with Charlie and everyone is glaring at him except reader and was very confused he didn't even know who is Adam until one of the character told him and he just listens to them while eating a peach

Imagine them both just being awkward and silent because reader is like don't know what to tell him but when one time he was asked to watch over Adam and he sees one random sinner was messing with Adam reader goes protective mood and beat the leaving soul out the sinner while cussing at them...in Russian and just grabbed Adam's hand like nothing happened murmuring that if a sinner mess with Adam again they will face readers wrath

Okay so since it's x reader and not everyone speaks Russian, I changed that part to a more neutral wording, not naming a specific language. Hope that works for ya, enjoy!

All the violence makes a statement

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language & canon typical violence (kinda)

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

When the main door to the hotel opened with a loud noise as it hit the wall, all of the residents’ attention shifted towards it. A man quite tall stepped through it, entering the hotel’s lobby, his walk was confident, the look on his face a mix between lazy and prideful and he stepped inside like he owned that place - and while you had no clue who the brown haired man was, you did know that he did not own that place. The hotel was Charlie’s after all.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” the princess of hell was the first to raise her voice towards the man that had just entered her building, given the way he had phrased it, she knew him quite well. Was he someone important? Were you supposed to know him? The stranger sure acted like it and even though he had not spoken a single word yet, you already knew you didn’t like his attitude. That assumption was proven right when the brown haired demon opened his mouth to respond, “This shithole is about redemption, so I’m gonna fucking crash here until Sera moves her fucking ass and gets me the fuck outta here.” Charlie crossed her arms over her chest, she was really not fond of the seemingly new guest and given the way he had just spoken to her you really didn’t blame her. Vaggie was the one to bite back at the stranger, “No. Absolutely not, get the fuck out.” You leaned over to Angel, who was sitting next to you at the bar, in his hand a freshly poured drink, “Who the fuck is that?” Angel looked at the brunette, then at you, “You don’t know him?” he asked, clearly confused about the fact that you really didn’t know the man that had just entered the hotel. “I wouldn’t be fucking asking if I did, dipshit.”

The brunette stranger had overheard your conversation and was answering you before Angel even had a chance to explain it to you, “I’m fucking Adam,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing. You raised an eyebrow at him in confusion, that hadn’t really answered your question, “Am I supposed to fucking know every Adam in existance?” And the stranger - Adam - seemed to take your response quite personal, “Babes, I’m not some random fucking Adam, I’m the fucking Adam, the original dick.” Oh. So he was the asshole that had blown up the hotel. He was the bastard that had not only almost defeated Alastor, but was also responsible for Sir Pentious’ death. “I agree with Vaggie, let’s kick him out,” you directed your words to Charlie, who seemed to be considering something. “Actually,” the princess of hell started and you heard Vaggie sigh at her word, “Forget it Charlie, he’s not staying.” The devil’s daughter shook her head though, “No but Adam is right,” and while her voice gave away that she wasn’t very happy about that fact, she still admitted it. “Duh, obviously I’m right,” the brunette commented. “This hotel is about redemption after all.” Vaggie put her hand on Charlie’s shoulder as she disagreed with her girlfriend, “He doesn’t wanna get redeemed, hun, he only wants to get his ass back into heaven so that he can continue to fuck up your plans.”

Well, Charlie turned out to be quite convincing and that resulted in Adam staying at the hotel. And he was a fucking bitch about it, god forbid, you couldn’t believe that asshole was once an angel. There was simply no way with the way he acted towards you and your friends. And yet you had ended up as his personal bodyguard - or at least you felt like that. Because Charlie knew that if Adam were to roam hell on his own, the sinners living there would tear him into pieces. Your opinion on it? He deserved it. Charlie however saw things a little different and therefore she had asked you to keep an eye on Adam. That motherfucker obviously laid it out as something different entirely, in his eyes you were following him around, playing bodyguard, because he was so goddamn fucking important. Which he really wasn't, not in the slightest.

“Watch it,” a sinner Adam had just walked into hissed as he was about to continue to walk past the first man, he was definitely not having it though. “‘Watch it’?” the brunette repeated in sheer disbelief, grabbing the sinner by his upper arm to prevent him from leaving, “Do you fucking know who I am? I’m fucking- the first man was interrupted by a fist that met his face with more force than he had expected from the smaller soul.

And despite the fact that you disliked Adam's guts just like everyone else at the hotel did, something inside of you clicked into place when the first man got hit in the face. You rushed over to the two sinners, pushed yourself in-between them and shoved the sinner that dared to mess with the brunette you had promised to protect backwards, away from yourself and most importantly away from Adam. “The fuck you think you’re doing, bastard?” you hissed at the stranger who was quick to recover from your shove, yet he made himself appear smaller than he actually was as he bit back, “Teaching this fuckhead a lesson, you got any fucking problems with that?” His question was answered by your fist meeting his face, hitting him right in the eye, “Yeah, I fucking have a problem with that.”

Adam couldn't help himself, the first man simply stood there, watching you as you hit the stranger over and over again - if the brunette was honest the punch the sinner had landed hadn't even hurt him, it hadn't been hard enough to do so. Yet he was quite impressed by your fighting skills, he sure didn't expect you to be as strong as you were. The language you spoke as you seemed to insult the stranger Adam wasn't able to recognize, he had never heard it before and yet it sounded fucking hot coming from your lips. Has anyone ever put up a fight with a stranger for him - like a physical hand-to-hand combo? No. Not even Lute had done that in the past. So when you grabbed a firm hold of the sinner and rang him to the ground, Adam watched with fascinated eyes as you kept your promise and protected him - not that he couldn't have stood up for himself of course. But you doing the dirty work for him seemed quite nice, that way his hands would remain pure. As pure as the hands of a fallen angel could be, that was.

The sinner laid on the ground, blood covered his face and dripped onto the dusty ground he was laying on. You got up with ease, acting like nothing had happened, like that had been the most normal encounter you had ever had with a sinner - and knowing how things in hell worked, that might not be too far off. You grabbed onto Adam's wrist and pulled him away from the body that was twitching in pain and from the hungry eyes that had attached themselves onto the first man once people had started to recognize Adam for who he was. “I swear if one of ‘em bitches ever touches you again, I'll rip ‘em apart until all that's left are little pieces,” as you spoke you noticed the smug grin on Adam's face, in rage you asked, “The fuck you're so happy about?” “Oh nothing, that was just hot as fuck.” And even though you still disliked the guy, his words made you blush a little.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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littlexscarletxwitch · 1 year ago

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── ༊*·˚⋆ 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

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farfromstrange · 5 days ago

Text

Do No Harm

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Thirty Minutes

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: After the Russians came to take you, Claire discovers the chaos in her apartment, and she has a call to make. There is only one person she can think of who can fix this--Matt.

Warnings for this chapter: ANGST, violence, mentions of alcohol and blood, S1 plot, self-loathing, religious imagery, mentions of alcoholism

Word Count: 4k

A/n: This is the kind of chapter that took me so long to write because it's necessary for the rest of the story but I really just want to write the following scenes. But alas, I got it done. I only had the dialogue to begin with, and I tried to do the characters justice.

Read Chapter 16: Thirty Minutes here on AO3!

A lot can happen in thirty minutes.

In thirty minutes, over 8000 babies are born.

In thirty minutes, over 3000 people die.

A lot can happen in thirty minutes and most of the time, it does.

In thirty minutes, lives are lived, lives are lost, and lives are given, and the world keeps turning, but it doesn’t necessarily have to take thirty minutes for a life to drastically change. All it takes is a second for the world to stop turning, and a life to be destroyed.

Claire left the apartment for thirty minutes. She took a walk around the block, her mind reeling with the weight of your argument. It would be a lie if she claimed that it didn’t hurt, that she didn’t consider not walking out because people have continuously hurt you all your life, and that is not your fault.

You don’t know what’s good for you. You don’t know what it’s like to be loved unconditionally. You are not to blame for the people who abused you. Claire knows how fragile you are. Trauma like the one you endured is not something that goes away easily, but there is only so much abuse she can take. There is only so much she can do to try and help you.

Sometimes, to help the person you care most about, you have to walk out on them; you have to leave them to their own devices, give them space and time, and hope they realize that they need help. But she can’t help but think that the reason you are so miserable now is her fault.

Claire told Matt to stay away from you. She told him that he is far too dangerous for you. You barely knew him, so she figured it wouldn’t hurt too much. A little bit of pain is better than death, she thought. In the end, though, she only made you face your trauma all over again because, against all odds, he actually did what she told him to. She didn’t think it was that serious until you stood on her doorstep last night, and she feels guilty—she feels so guilty she could throw up on the street.

Matt is a good guy, but he is a mess. You need someone put together enough to deal with your mess. He isn’t the right person for you and yet, the times you talked about him you sounded the happiest you had in years. He made you happy. She is the reason that happiness is gone now, and you turned to the bottle—again.

Thirty minutes.

It feels like an eternity has passed when Claire drags her feet up the stairs. She promised the beaten-up man in the mask she dug out of the dumpers that she wouldn’t leave the apartment. She wouldn’t leave until he solved the problem with the Russians. Until she was safe.

It was only supposed to be a few days of hiding out, but she lost more in a few days than she gained in two years. She is utterly exhausted. Lying is exhausting. All she ever wanted was to keep you safe, and you still got hurt. If she is destined to fail, what is she even trying for?

Thirty minutes, that’s how long she was gone. As she enters the building, the air feels different. A shiver runs down her spine, curling in her stomach like a black cloud of doom.

Claire takes a tentative step forward. The floorboards creak. It is almost as loud as the faint sobbing streaking out into the hall through the gap in her door.

There are claw marks on the floor. They’re faint, but they’re there—gashes left by a set of sharp nails that weren’t there before. And there’s blood, a trail of blood leading from the door into the apartment, and her heart drops into her stomach.

She pushes the door open. “Liv?” she asks. No answer. “I swear, if this is your way of getting back at me… this is not–” the ‘funny’ dies on her tongue when her eyes fall on the destruction left behind, the open window and—

Santino is cowering against the wall, beaten up and bleeding, staring back at her like a deer caught in headlights. The bottle of bourbon she bought at the liquor store downstairs falls out of her hand and shatters, mingling with the traces of blood. Your blood.

“Lo siento,” the boy cries. I’m sorry.

He tells her he couldn’t stop them. He tells her that he told them where she’s staying, and they took her—you. They took you. Two strange men took you when it should have been her, and it is then she starts to feel her heart bleeding into her chest.

Santino’s just a child, she thinks. He’s a child who got dragged into a mess much bigger than him, and it’s her fault.

It’s all her fault.

Last night, Matt learned what it sounds like when your heart breaks.

He listened as it sped up over the dishes clattering in the restaurant. First, it was nerves that had your body shaking against your will. But nerves turned into worry turned into fear, your heart relentlessly hammering against your ribcage. It was hurting you. Every beat brought you closer to the inevitable truth your mind refused to acknowledge.

Until your heart began to pump the blood a little slower.

Until the clock turned minutes into hours, and you’d downed your fourth glass of wine.

You kept a faith you claimed you never really had until time ran out, and you realized that he wasn’t coming. Fear turned into utter disappointment, and your heart cracked. It cracked, and then it broke, shattering like a wine glass on a white cloth.

When he first met you, you were crying over losing a patient—a child. You seemed particularly vulnerable to him, almost broken, in a way, but he also knew that it takes a special kind of strength and resilience to do what you dedicated your life to.

You confided in him. You had your heart broken by the people who were supposed to protect you most in this world. You could relate to what he went through, and yet when Claire said that he would only ever hurt you, that you deserve better—so much better—Matt didn’t hesitate to prove her right. In vowing to stay away from you, he did the very thing he was trying to avoid. But at what cost?

God and the Devil are laughing at him. He can kneel on the cold wooden benches that line Clinton Church and pray for His forgiveness; he can confess his sins to Father Lantom as if he’s writing a book about them, and try to repent, but every time he puts on that mask, he is giving away pieces of himself. He sacrifices his happiness for the greater good of the city he loves and for justice, and he lies to the people he loves. He lies, and he ultimately ends up pushing them away.

Matt sabotages himself over and over again. He pushed you away. He broke off something that was not quite a thing yet, but it could have been; it could have been so beautiful. He ruined it, again.

He hasn’t slept since.

When it’s not you, it’s him: Wilson Fisk. The name runs in circles around his mind. It is a whirlwind tornado he cannot seem to stop. He knew something was off when this nameless stranger came to Nelson & Murdock to hire them to defend an obvious murderer. A juror being paid off, the hung jury—it all seemed like an intricate game orchestrated by a third party to assess them.

He tried to keep his work separate from the man he becomes at night. Maybe it was Karen that put them on the radar, or maybe it’s simply because every bad thing in Hell’s Kitchen seems to be connected somehow, and he has put himself in the middle of it. He saved Karen and protected her from a worse fate, but unless he finds a way to stop the boulder from running down the hill toward them, his friends will always be in danger. He attracts it like a fucking magnet.

Healy impaled himself because he pushed for a name. He caught him, and his curiosity killed the cat. Wilson Fisk. He has never heard of him before. No one has. But if he is the reason for everything that has gone wrong, he needs to find him and he needs to stop him.

Matt doubts he would have a chance with you if he came running back. When he can make sure that you are safe, maybe he can crawl on his knees back to you and beg for your forgiveness, but rationally he knows he doesn’t stand a chance.

He hurt you. He broke your heart. He tore through the already friable tissue, and he ruined something that could have been so good for him—for both of you.

No amount of praying can fix that.

His mind is elsewhere as he and Foggy step out of the precinct into the cool night air.

“My mom wanted me to be a butcher, you know that?” Foggy says.

Matt sighs, tapping his cane along the sidewalk. “Oh, not the butcher story.”

“I said, ‘No, Mom, I want to be a lawyer.’” A pause. “I don’t remember what I said next.”

“No, you never do,” he says.

Foggy doesn’t take note of his snark comment. “But I’m fairly certain it wasn’t about bailing out a piss-drunk electrician who nearly burned his house down.” He looks across the street, tugging his friend’s arm in the process. “Let’s cross.”

Matt knows very well where the street is and where the cars are coming from, but he follows his lead without using much of his senses; he trusts him.

“Ed’s wife left him, Foggy. It was an accident.” His nails dig into his jacket. “Admittedly involving cigarettes and gasoline, but still.”

He had to do some good tonight. He had to make sure at least one broken heart wouldn’t crash and burn. And it’s work. Getting a friend out of a misdemeanor might not be what Foggy signed up for, but it is work they would otherwise not have. After what happened at Healy’s trial, it’s been piles of paperwork and unpaid bills, and Matt really couldn’t stand another second of running his fingers over pages of Braille.

They cross the street under Foggy’s observant eye. “I could be carving my own corn beef. Making my own pickles. Having a little shop of my own…” he trails off.

“You got your own office,” Matt murmurs.

“We have office space,” Foggy corrects. “An actual office would involve plantery and equipment. Fax machines or whatever successful people use.”

He chuckles. “I don’t think they use fax machines anymore.”

“How would I know? Which is endemic to the problem.”

They stop. Matt can feel his eyes boring into his skull, smell his sandalwood cologne and the deli sandwich he had for lunch, the one with the onions and extra pickles.

“Matt,” Foggy asks, “what if we’re doing this all wrong?” There is a certain uncertainty in his voice. “What if Landman and Zack was the way to go?”

Fear. Worry. Concern. It all plays together.

“You hated interning there,” says Matt.

Foggy shrugs, approaching the street to hail a cab. “I hate being broke.”

If his life weren’t so complicated, he would try harder to give his friend what motivated him to agree to his ballsy idea to start this firm in the first place. Matt knows Foggy has sacrificed a lot for him, sacrifices he surely did not deserve for keeping him in the dark, but when it comes to Foggy, the fear of losing him, of him running away, paralyzes him.

“You think Landman and Zack would’ve helped out Ed?” he asks.

“No. But they had free bagels every morning, and they had furniture that didn’t smell like a pack of cigarettes. And elevators… God, I miss the elevators.”

“We’re doing good here, Foggy.”

He turns around. “Are we?”

“Yeah,” Matt nods, “we’re making a difference.”

A cab pulls up to the curb just as his phone starts to ring in his breast pocket. Not the one he always uses. The ringing is new, not yet very familiar, but he recognizes it almost instantly.

“You have a new phone?” Foggy asks. “We can afford that?”

Matt pulls out the burner phone he bought just a few days ago. There is only one person it could be, only one person who has this number. He flips it open. “Hey, one sec,” he answers, moving away from the speaker to address his friend once more. “Foggy, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He holds open the door to the cab, eyes roaming over Matt’s figure. “It’s a girl, isn’t it? You got a new phone just for your girls.” He slides into the backseat. “My life sucks.”

Again, he chuckles. “Get home safe.”

The motor roars and Matt listens as the yellow car drives away with Foggy inside. Once he’s sure that he is out of reach, he lifts the phone back to his ear.

“Yeah, Claire, what’s up?” he says.

She breathes shakily through the line. He can hear her heart racing at a million miles an hour, beating out of her chest like a fright train. Tears lace her voice when she finally finds it in herself to speak. “You have to come over,” she says. “Right now.”

The urgency surprises him. Not so long ago it was him uttering the same words. The wind brushes through his hair. “What happened? You okay?”

“It’s not me,” Claire whispers. “It’s–” She almost says something else. Another word. Another fact. Another name. Her lungs contract and her breathing gets just a little harder.

His veins feel as though they are about to burst. He can taste his heart on his tongue. Who, he wants to ask. Why are you calling me? But he doesn’t need to ask her to know the answer. He doesn’t need her to tell him because even from across the city, her reaction speaks louder than words.

“It’s Liv,” she chokes out, and Matt nearly drops his phone in the gutter. “Someone took her. The Russians...”

You never got involved with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. You weren’t there when he threw the fake Detective off Claire’s roof. You have no idea who he is, you only know that Matt Murdock is an asshole. He wanted to keep it that way. He stayed away to keep you safe.

They were looking for her. They were looking for Claire, and somehow, they found you.

They took you.

“Please,” she’s so close to tears that the word barely makes it out in one piece.

The phone snaps shut, wandering back into his pocket. ‘Someone took her,’ it keeps repeating on a loop. Matt folds his cane, and he takes off running. He runs faster than he ever has, not caring if someone sees him. Not caring if someone wonders why a blind man is running in the middle of the night as if he can see. Not caring if someone questions his identity.

He runs and runs and runs until his lungs are burning and his legs are hurting, and he runs even faster toward the apartment above the liquor store. Toward Claire.

He runs toward you, for if he lost you he would never be able to forgive himself.

The door to the apartment is already open when he arrives. The distinctive copper of blood hits his nose. It has seeped into the floorboards, seeped into skin. Your scent hangs heavy in the room. He can smell you on the couch cushions and the discarded needle on the living room table. It’s your blood, and hints of someone else’s. You’re everywhere yet nowhere at all, and for the first time since he met you, he can’t feel you. He can’t hear your heartbeat. He can’t make out your presence because neither are you at the hospital nor are you safely tucked away at home where you should be.

Liquor and rubbing alcohol cling to the oxygen. A broken bottle of bourbon lies shattered on the floor. You weren’t just taken; you spent the night here. Why? What on earth were you doing?

“Oh, thank God!” Claire exclaims.

“What happened?” Matt asks. His ears are ringing. “Where is she?”

She moves away from Santino who sits motionless, crying, on her sofa. He recognizes his heartbeat faintly from the night on the rooftop with Detective Foster. What a pathetic alias, he thought. But the boy they kidnapped is the reason he is even in this mess. He thought Claire would be safe. He thought he was doing the right thing.

They hurt an innocent child. They were going to hurt Claire. They hurt you; they took you, and he isn’t sure which scenario is worse. He doesn’t want to imagine.

“They found Santino, beat him, and he told them where I was,” she says, lip quivering. “Liv spent the night here. We fought, I went for a walk, and… he told them she wasn’t me, but they didn’t care. They just took her.”

He reaches for the nearest chair. “Fuck!” The wood splinters against the wall.

Claire flinches. “Matt.”

“She wasn’t supposed to be here. You weren’t–” He inhales deeply. “You weren’t supposed to go anywhere. What the hell were you thinking, Claire?”

“What was I thinking?” she bites back. “She was falling apart! That wasn’t my fault!”

Her words cut his skin with the force of a thousand blades. He’s bleeding out in an endless pool, and she goes and twists the knife one more time.

He ruffles his hair, tugging at the strands for some kind of lifeline. The ground beneath his feet has long melted away. He’s staring in the face of certain demise, but it won’t be him who dies. No, death would be too merciful. He is destined to watch everyone around him fall apart and die before the pain inevitably kills him, too.

Everything he touches turns to ashes. It rots from the inside out, and then it dies. A withering field of flowers unable to grow new seeds. A graveyard.

“I told you to stay away from her,” Claire snaps.

“I did,” Matt says. “The second you told me, I broke things off. I stood her up. I told her she deserved better. I did everything so she could make me the bad guy. She had nothing–” He gasps for air. “She had nothing to do with this.”

“You painted a fucking target on her back!”

He matches her volume, even goes above it as the echo threatens to break glass. “Don’t you think I know that?”

“No, you broke her. She almost drank herself into a coma last night because you couldn’t let her down easy. That’s why she was here. You broke her!”

“I–” It takes a long moment to register.

You almost drank yourself into a coma. You got so drunk you had to sleep on her couch, so drunk she had to hook you up to intravenous fluids, so drunk the two of you fought to the point your friendship imploded, and it was all because of him. Because he thought turning his back would make it easier for you to hate him.

He turned his back on you. Like a coward.

“I was on that rooftop with you when you put that guy into a coma, not her,” she says, spitting bitterly at his feet with tears clouding her hazel eyes. “I was the one they were looking for.”

Matt begins to pace. The weight of the guilt pressing down on him is making it hard to speak. “Are you sure it was the Russians?” he asks.

She deadpans. “Oh, I don’t know. Did you piss off anyone else?”

“No, I–”

“She wouldn’t have been here if it wasn’t for you!” A tear rolls down her cheek and gets caught in her necklace. “That girl has been through hell and back, and she can take one hell of a punch, but she’s barely got any fight left in her. Now, part of that’s my fault, but she doesn’t deserve to get dragged into your bullshit!”

“I know!” he cries. “Don’t act like she doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“You don’t get to say that!” Claire cuts him off. “You don’t know her! She’s dedicated her life to saving people,” she says. “She beat the odds more than once, and she should be here right now instead of me. So, I need you to get out there and beat the shit out of whoever you need to get her back. Put them in a coma. Carve their hearts out. I don’t care! I need you to fight for her because if she dies… if she dies, I will never forgive you.”

Her heartbeat remains steady throughout. Her words aren’t some overly emotional reaction to the fear of losing a friend, her best friend, but they are the blatant truth. In her heart and her soul, she knows she would never forgive him if you died, and she doesn’t care what he needs to do to get you back. If she could, she would burn the world down herself.

It’s not romantic love that drives her. She just knows you. She knows you, and she has grown to love you in a way that is hard for outsiders to comprehend—for those who don’t know you. She’s protective of you. She cares about you. She’s your person, and she is yours, even when you hate each other.

She will never stop fighting for you to the best of her abilities, but this is beyond her capabilities. Claire has no choice but to place what little faith she has left, no matter how mangled or broken, in Matt’s calloused hands. She might be furious at him, she might even want to claw his eyes out and sacrifice them to Satan, but she does know he cares. He cares more than most people. And if there is one thing the two have in common it is that they care about you. That has to be enough.

“Okay,” Matt whispers.

“Say it,” she commands.

“I’ll find her,” he says, louder this time. “I promise, I’ll find her.”

He needs to find you. He needs to tell you the truth. He needs to hold you in his arms, safe and sound, just to make sure you’re alive. He needs you to be alive. He prays you’re alive.

He is sure he’s losing his mind to the smoldering flames of fury. He can’t think, can’t hear anything over the rushing of his blood, and he can’t fucking breathe, but he has to—for you. He has to get it together for you.

So, he does. He takes a deep breath. He pulls the black suit out of the chest under the stairs in his apartment, and he stands on the rooftop until the city has gone quiet, and all that remains is you.

He is going to find you, and when he does, those who took you will have hell to pay.

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#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock #matt murdock angst #daredevil #daredevil x reader #do no harm #charlie cox

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