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pandorascripts · 3 months ago

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Family Reunion

Uhm... hi... guys!!! Yes, I did go MIA for like a whole year, but I got better at writing and my gay ass got extreme motivation from Agatha and Rio soooo I'm here!!! Not sure if this is permanent, but I really wanted to write Agatha as a mother. Feel free to send in requests (platonic or romantic, either works), who knows if I'll get around to them, but they might motivate me!

Summary: Rio and Agatha begin to heal, too absorbed in familiarity to remember just how bad they were for one another. The Road decides to leap out of Rio's control, thrusting their young daughter away from the underworld and back into their lives.

summary shortened: you're pretty much Nick, except the road decides to throw you back onto the mortal plane for an unknown reason. warnings: some grief, mainly fluff, big smooch scene that we deserved, and me using my Spanish-II class for nefarious acts online (making rio and reader speak Spanish). relationships: Agario/plantonic!reader

all spelling errors are mine, and I apologize, but I'm too excited about writing again to care <3. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Agatha listens as the other coven members cheerily laugh about past experiences -- each letting the burning weight of the trials slip off their shoulders for a moment. The past centuries of her life have been held as a solo journey for Agatha, coven-less, loveless, family-less, and yet, analyzing the people around her, she can't help but wonder if that had been the wrong choice. How is it that these "failed" witches can form a coven far more accepting than the last one she was in? Agatha's not sure, but that spark of humanity she swore died when her coven betrayed her is fighting against the brutal self-taught lessons of apathy. She finds herself drawn into the conversation with a question directed at her. Far too surprised that she's been included, Agatha doesn't clock who it came from at all. Her weight shifts on the log beneath her, fingers anxiously spinning the flower Rio's been harboring since she darkened the road with her soul. Agatha risks a glance at her, then turns back to the coven. Her elbow buzzes with a reminder of a rather bland battle, the hard knitting tool piercing her skin replaying in her mind again. Rio seemingly knows where she's going with this when Agatha hikes up her shirt, lifting her elbow with a small smile.

"You ever heard of the Daughters of Liberty?" her hoarse voice rings out, a faintly muffled chuckle coming from the woman on her right. Agatha smiles at her for the first time in years.

The group enthusiastically shakes their heads, all curious about where Agatha is directing her story. Well aware, Agatha knows she needs to seemingly open up to these women and keep her animosity for them. Letting them in on her past isn't going to do that, so with a snap of her hand the shirt is back down to her wrist, cocky eyes darting around the circle. "Exactly."

Despite how chilling this should be, the group just smiles and laughs at Agatha's story. Agatha won't look into it because that off-putting "joke" just got her respect points with the coven she may or may not choose to betray. That's a win in her mind that is immediately taken away when her old counterpart speaks up.

"I have a scar."

Her tone is a little dry, her face so blank as usual. Naturally, the coven is a little uneasy at Rio's presence, all still deciding if she's trustworthy or not.

Agatha's jaw is sharply outlined as she glares. With a hard breath her nostrils are inflamed, knowing Rio's antics far too familiarly. "No, you don't."

Rio sends her a glare, as if to tell her to shut up. "Yes, I do."

Agatha knows she cannot interrupt again, the coven would be far too suspicious of just how well they know one another. Who Agatha falls in love with is her business -- her weakness is her business. With a taste of defeat that's absolutely disgusting, Agatha lets Rio speak.

"A long time ago, I loved somebody," she starts softly, if not a little too apathetic for a claim like that. The coven is immediately a little interested -- most thinking that Rio is quite the psychopath. Agatha knows they're wrong.

"I had to do something I didn't want to do, and it hurt them," with these words spilt out, Rio gets a little angry at the next part of her speech. Agatha knows what this is going to, her eyes shooting away to look at the stars instead of the stars in Rio's eyes. "But it was my job."

Agatha glares down at her purple pants, the fire a couple feet ahead casting them brighter than their original color. The avoidance is choking her out, but even when Rio speaks again, Agatha is too pained to look.

"She is my scar."

Rio looks over and up at Agatha, not caring that the coven has certainly understood the depth of the relationship between them. For a moment, weakness allows Agatha to breathe in deep, her head softly turning to glance at Rio. The moment the exchange is made, Agatha's body heating up with utter embarrassment, her head snaps. The crack of her knees is deafening, fingers flexing as she tries to loosen the hold on this flower. This damn flower -- why is it still in her hands? Agatha feels grossed out by the question, but more so by her internal response. Rio's face is still burned into her head, the parted lips, eyes open and unafraid of being known by the coven. Rio's look of pure, unaltered love that Agatha swore never truly existed between them.

"Well, I'm gonna take a walk," she snaps out, sending what's supposed to be a condescending smile to the group. Everyone sees through it, more so when Rio sighs annoyedly and rushes after.

Rio would be lying if she said she wasn't slightly pissed, the only thing easing that being the sway of Agatha's hips as she practically darts away from Rio's penetrating gaze. Her eyes remain narrow, watching Agatha fifteen feet up with no objective other than having her back again. Death is lonely, figuratively and literally. She's not found one person who's soul can ease her lack of besides Agatha. Years have blurred together, broken cries of rejection chipping away at the humanity Rio used to harbor, and everything over the millennia she's existed for has undeniably forced her to adept into stone cold apathy. Agatha healed that. During their fleeting time together, Death felt things other than her frozen over hell, she felt desired, understood, she felt human and she understood why humans hate dying so much. Agatha made Death feel like living. So yes, even after this time apart, she's angry that the one soul she refused to take could end up leaving her.

Agatha stops a couple feet ahead now, Rio's gaze running over her body to fully cement the fact that they're back together now, even if not emotionally. Testing waters which have laid still for so long, Rio's chipped nails faintly feel the back of Agatha's spine. When her fingers make contact again, she remembers every night they rested there too -- during walks along the Norwegian beaches despite how freezing it was, fooling around when Agatha was first dabbling in black magic, to nights when Agatha was falling asleep holding their kid and Rio asking hesitantly to take her instead. It's so much, Rio notes, and she understands that it must be for Agatha too because a sound so hauntingly familiar falls from her aching lips -- a moan rippling those waters untouched for years.

Silence is only exchanged after that, Agatha turning around to relent into Rio's care. Seeing her divine face this close again after so many years of punishment, is like allowing a sinner a breath of heaven for Agatha. Her nails rake along Rio's soft face as she soaks in this moment. Her bones are aching to crawl back into the grave she spent so long being comforted in, they're pleading Agatha to just allow them this reprieve, and so she grants it. Rio knows what's coming, her hands clinging onto Agatha as her face dives into her neck. Both their noses dip into the skin, smelling each other, holding each other, for the first time in years. That comforting smell of flowers, dewy earth, and the beguiling scent of death fills Agatha's nose, tears slipping down her face with familiarity.

Rio feels Agatha's hands gripping her head, her own chest stuttering as she struggles with the fleeting emotions entwined with humanity. It's so overwhelming and it's been so long since she's felt it again. Desperate to capture it, Rio grips Agatha's back, nails digging into her shirt as she feels her soul back where it belongs. Still, silence. There's nothing they need to say to her that isn't being felt -- love, security, a hint of forgiveness that Rio hopes won't be nipped in the bud.

Agatha pulls back, Rio tilting her head to analyze her features. When looking isn't enough, they both hold one another's faces, thumbs memorizing the skin along their paths. Rio can feel her eyelids droop, soulless brown eyes moving to the pair of lips in front of her. Agatha's filled with the same desire, darting forward before she can properly judge what's happening, nose bumping against Rio's. The latter pulls away, a soft hum leaving her lips.

"Agatha..."

There's a subtle nod from the addressed, eyes moving off from her mouth to Rio's eyes. It's there Agatha finds that she wasn't stopped out of hesitance or unwillingness, so she leans in again. Rio lets her, invites her when she tilts too.

Agatha hasn't felt a kiss like Rio's kisses in centuries. The moment she feels it again, she lets out a sweet moan. Rio notes how different it is from the ones she usually pulls out -- whether from pain or pleasure. Agatha's was slow and sweet, as if she had been longing for this all her life. It's comforting and full of love. Rio wants more -- she needs to know that this isn't one sided -- that Agatha has started to forgive her for a pain they share. Her hands move to support Agatha's jaw, pulling her into her furthermore as if she wants to swallow her with a kiss. Agatha's giving everything back, lips in tandem with Rio's as they refuse to part for anything.

They're like that for far too long, only stopping when Agatha rests her forehead against Rio's, trying to stifle her panting. Their eyes remain shut, soaking in the physical feel of being loved again.

"I can't -- I can't accept what happened, but -- but I want you to know, I know it hurt you too," Agatha softly speaks, the vulnerability something she rarely shows. It's been years and years of animosity because of their shared grief.

Rio's completely silent, her eyes opening to see the tears slipping down Agatha's cheeks. It takes her a moment of confusion before she realizes that she's crying too -- something that hasn't happened since she held that lifeless body in her heavy arms, crying as she pretended to be tucking her in her crib like she had so many times over the years. Rio's choked up as well, nodding her head as she desperately moves Agatha's hair behind her ears, needing to busy her hands with something.

"I --" Rio can't get anything out. Her thoughts are wilder than a tornado, each one fleeting and escaping her brain before they can be shoved out her mouth. For someone so witty, she can't speak. Rio nods again, lips pressed thin as she leans back in to feel Agatha's lips. There's no denial from Agatha, just like how there never was any all those centuries ago.

The next couple of minutes are spent exchanging sweet kisses, lips slowly and barely moving away just to reconnect seconds later. Rio's hand slips under Agatha's shirt, feeling the taut fabric against her hands when she pulls it out from the waistband of her purple pants. Malleable flesh against her fingertips makes Rio moan against Agatha, a small smirk on her lips when another moan follows -- but not from her. Rio's nails rake along Agatha's stomach, enjoying the feeling after being denied it for so long.

Lost in familiarity, they don't notice the tree cracking behind them -- not until it drops a couple feet out, a hoarse shriek coming from Agatha. Rio's back is turned to her now, hand on her waist as she keeps Agatha close. There's something under the rubble, her eyes thinning down as she glares at the rustling wood. Eventually, Rio steps away from Agatha and kicks over the wood, an unconscious face all too known in front of her. With a hard smack, Rio's knees are digging into the floor, hands grabbing out the sweet face she swore she wouldn't see ever again.

Agatha's stood behind, eyes slightly wide and confused before a soft, "hija" is echoed out in the cold air. Haunted, Agatha stumbles forward to drop down next to Rio, hands moving out to grab at your face. The moment she thinks she can, her hands shoot back and away, knees popping when she abruptly stands. In a hard panic and a heavy breath, her face is whipping around and looking around the road.

"Is this some sick trial?" she screeches out, her lungs aching as she sobs to whoever is controlling this.

Rio's still sitting, cradling your body as her hands touch your hair. The road bends to Rio's will -- after all, Rio only designed the road to bring her more souls -- but this isn't her. This is something else, something far more evil that's infiltrated her dimension. Rio doesn't understand how this is happening, who's behind it, or what the consequences are going to be, but she needs to just soak in this moment.

Rio hasn't seen your chest move in hundreds of years.

Shaky fingers press along your chest, feeling it rise against her hold, then fall, and repeat.

"Agatha," she calls out, turning her head to look at the panicked woman in front of her.

Bewildered and terrified, Agatha meets your sleeping face and freezes. There's a sick part of Agatha that reminds her she had forgotten certain aspects of your face, the guilt eating at her and choking her out. With a shake of her head, Agatha trips over herself as she tries to get away. The sobs are muffled by her vibrating hand, vision blinded by overwhelmed tears. There's too much happening for Agatha to even try regulating herself, so caught up in the face that has haunted her for centuries being thrusted against her in such a short time.

Rio gently picks up your body, head slack against her hard shoulder. The last time you were like this Rio was tightly holding you away from the Ferryman. Her hands rub your back, shifting to make adjustments for you. Centuries ago when you died, you were no more than six, now it seems as if something changed that -- you look like you're ten now. Rio doesn't understand how you managed to "age" if you hadn't had a beating heart in a long time, but she doesn't care.

"Agatha," she tries again, wanting her to see her daughter even if you'll get tugged back onto that old boat soon.

Whipping around, her hands still pressed against her mouth, she gently meets Rio half way. The tears won't stop, shock and disbelief on her aged face. "Oh God," she mumbles, hand slipping over to brush some brown hair away from your face.

You're still you, if not a little pale and older now, but Agatha can't register that. Her baby is back, in some sick way, her baby is back. Rio holds you tightly, feeling so confused as your body is warm against hers.

"What is this?" Agatha hoarsely questions, eyes darting away from yours to Rio's face.

"I don't know -- I didn't do it -- I swear," she sputters out, stopping only when Agatha presses her tear-soaked lips against Rio's own again.

"I know, I know."

Rio calms down at the belief, her arms heavy as Agatha starts to lift you into her own arms. There's a shift from you, Agatha's eyebrows pressing deeply together as she almost glares at you. Still convinced this isn't real, she's as stiff as a board against you. Up until you press into her shoulder, rubbing your nose twice before halting, Agatha doesn't believe it. That single act performed crushes her reluctance, heart stopping at feeling something you used to do all the time against her.

"Oh, baby," she cries out, nose pressed into the side of your hair as you stir. Rio watches with wide eyes, lips parted as she watches how easily Agatha slips back into her motherly tendencies.

Agatha cries until she can't anymore, eventually finding herself sitting down and just holding you against her. Of course, she doesn't want to wake you up but she also can't stop touching you. Desperately aching for the constant reminder that you're tangible -- that you're here -- Agatha's hands constantly touch your face, your waist, your hips -- gently running over your body as she shakes.

Rio sits down in front, hand resting just under your lower thigh, thumb rubbing against the side of your knee. With all this touch, you wake up slightly annoyed, pushing yourself farther into Agatha. Her tears only increase tenfold, fleeting attempts to stop it doing nothing.

"Momma, stop," you quietly whine as she plays with your messy hair, your nose crinkled up just like hers does. The similar aspect makes Agatha tear up, head nodding as she stills her hand on your waist.

"Sorry, baby."

Rio notes Agatha's cracking voice, and so do you. Tiredly, you look up at them both, confused as to why your parents had been crying.

"Why you guys crying?"

"Just really happy, honey," Agatha sniffles out, rubbing your face again. You don't fight against it, eyes darting down to look at Rio.

"Okay." Your soft tone makes Rio's lip tremble, her hand coming out to move some of your curly hair -- so alike to Agatha's -- out of your face. There's a small shake of your head as you adjust your big glasses -- the ones Rio always adored.

"I don't want you to cry, it makes me sad too," you softly admit, moving your face to rest alongside Agatha's sternum. Habits don't die, as proven when Agatha already moves to take off your glasses for you so they don't get bent by how you're laying. Rio acts on impulse too, taking the glasses from Agatha's hands and setting them on her shirt.

"Nosotras sabemos, hija," Rio speaks out, her eyes trained on your face. For a fleeting moment, Rio wonders if you've forgotten the language she taught you, her heart breaking in her chest before you respond with a nod. Agatha's a little behind before understanding what Rio means.

"We know," Agatha reiterates, letting you know that she understood the conversation and agrees.

"Where are we?" you ask, finally looking around to notice what's happening.

Rio can't think of anything to say, not until Agatha comes up with something. "Road trip, dear."

Trusting your mom, you just confusedly nod your head.

"¿Cuándo planeamos el viaje?" you ask out.

Agatha can't respond right away, but Rio does. "You were sleeping, Mama and I wanted to surprise you."

Turning her head to face the speaker, Agatha is a little confused at the question but goes with it. The answer isn't upsetting you, if not just making you a little confused, so she doesn't really care to figure out what was spoken.

"Can I sleep now?" you ask, yawning just after.

"Yeah, baby, of course."

Rio turns to look at Agatha's expression, her heart lurching at just how well motherhood suits her. Brown eyes watch Agatha's gentle hands -- hands that have slaughtered thousands -- sweetly caress your kind face. With a hum, you lean into your mama's hands, eyes shut as you try to sleep again. Agatha is completely lost in having you back, soothingly tracing along your face and down the slope of your nose, touching something she never thought she would again. Rio is too nervous to touch you again, the last time far too devastating for her liking.

As if a mind reader, Agatha brings up Rio's hand to your stomach, setting it there before looking back down at you.

Complete silence falls over you all, Rio's hand stiff before she hesitantly brings it to flatten against your stomach. Apathy is long gone from her usually conniving features, everything overtaken with terrified love. After a minute or two, Rio manages to calm down her anxiety and let her knuckles run against your shirt, remembering the nights when you'd both be sent into fits of giggles when she'd blow raspberries against your stomach. Much to Agatha's dismay, only because it'd rile you up before bedtime. Truth be told, Agatha let it happen a couple times, observing contently from the bedroom door before she'd break it up so you could sleep.

You're knocked out again minutes later, a soft chuckle coming from Rio's lips. "God, she always was a hard sleeper."

Agatha silently nods, tears slipping down her face again. Rio brushes them away with her free hand, letting her knuckles trace against Agatha too.

"You know we don't have her back for long, right?" Rio asks quietly. In a hard, choked out response, Agatha nods her head. "I know, I know. I just need her for a bit longer."

Rio's lips are tugged taut before leaning into a frown, her forehead against Agatha's as they sit in silence together.

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha x rio #agatha spoilers #agario #agatha harkness x reader #rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x rio vidal #rio vidal x agatha harkness #rio vidal x you #rio vidal x y/n #fanfic #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x female reader #agathario #these guys are so gay

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dewdrops-whammy-bar · 5 months ago

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Tenth Drink Free

Chapter 1/10: Heart 1721 words

Dewdrop is a barista in a college town. He’s sworn off romance for the time being- he doesn’t have time for it. He’s an adult with a job, he doesn’t have time for dating and inevitable heartbreak. Until a hot nursing student with an ass to rival the gods walks in. Oh fuck. And he’s got puppy eyes. Oh FUCK. A story told in the space of nine coffee shop purchases and a freebie.

Behold, the quinessential (no pun intended) coffee shop au that every fanfic author writes eventually. I need hot nursing student Aether and pathetic sopping wet barista Dew to have gay t4t sex.

I don't have a set upload schedule but if you want to be added to a taglist lmk in the comments!

Read below or on AO3!

Dew cracks open his energy drink with his teeth as his other hand haphazardly pulls his apron over his head. The strap catches on the butterfly clip holding his hair back and yanks it out of place. Dew hisses in pain as it tugs on his hair and manages to catch it before it hits the floor.

“Hungover again?” Cirrus asks sympathetically as she passes with a tray of pastries. Dew grunts and shakes his head.

“Nah. Couldn’t sleep.” It’s only semi-true, he’d in fact been having a marathon of 80s horror movies. He’d awoken to Rain slinking out of his room at 11 to make coffee, leaving only thirty minutes to throw on clean clothes before he had to be at work. Luckily the little cafe tucked between a furniture store and a Mediterranean restaurant was only a fifteen minute walk from his apartment. The benefits of living in a college town, he supposes.

“I can let you off early so you can go home for a nap,” Cirrus offers. “Tuesdays are slow in the afternoons anyway.”

“That would be amazing, thanks Cir.” Dew sighs and takes a sip of his energy drink. He bends the tab of the can up, clamps it between his teeth, and pulls his hair back. Wrapping it into a loose bun, he secures it with the butterfly clip and retrieves his can from its precarious position.

“You’re gonna chip a tooth like that,” Swiss provides unhelpfully from his place at the sink. “And god knows if the dental insurance here will cover that.”

“I’ll be fine.” Dew rolls his eyes. “Focus on those muffin pans, dish boy.”

Swiss flips him a soapy middle finger, but Dew has turned and walked out of the kitchen by then. He downs about half of his red bull, stifles a burp behind his hand, and taps Aurora out at the register.

“Ohhh, thank god.” Rory sighs, dropping her customer service face. “There were two Karens half an hour ago. One right after the other. Fuckin’ exhausting.” Her bright pink lipstick is slightly smeared, evidence of her bad habit of chewing on her lips. “I need a drink…”

“It’s noon. Go steal a croissant from the kitchen instead. Thanks for putting me in the line of fire, by the way.” Dew rolls his eyes playfully. “Go smack Swiss’s ass for me.”

“Yessir!” Rory gives a two-finger salute before scurrying off into the kitchen. Dew sighs and resigns himself to the following hours of tedious interaction. A moment later, there’s a squawk from the kitchen followed by a squeal from Aurora.

A chai latte, a caramel macchiato, two vanilla lattes, two drip coffees, an Italian soda, and a needlessly complicated order that Dew can’t even begin to remember later, he’s only a quarter of the way through his shift. At least it’s a quiet day. The regulars from the local college usually come in before classes or on weekends to study.

Dew props his elbow on the counter and rests his chin in his hand, letting his mind wander. He’s been saving up for a cool guitar pedal and managed to find it on Ebay for half the price, but he is in a bidding war for it. He’d sneak a peek at the listing on his phone while the cafe was relatively quiet but he’d left it in his bag. Shit.

He straightens up, cracks his back, and begins reorganizing the supplies behind the bar. His fingers are getting twitchy from the caffeine kicking in. He curses his health insurance for not covering ADHD medication so he can actually function as a person. Or mood stabilizers. Or even therapy.

The door swings open again as Dew is cleaning the steam wand on the espresso machine. He sets the wet rag on the counter and turns to see- oh wow. His grumpy mood is instantly forgotten.

An absolute Greek god of a man stands near the doorway, scanning the drinks menu. He’s tall, built like a brick wall with just the right amount of chub, and- from what Dew can see- an ass to die for. If he were a slightly weaker man, he would vault over the counter, drop to his knees, and choke himself unconscious on that man’s dick.

He shifts his weight and bites his tongue in annoyance. Stupid fucking high libido. He doesn’t have time to be creaming his pants at work. He’s not above using his break to jerk off in the bathroom, though…

Someone clears their throat. Big Sexy (as he’s decided to call the man) stands before him, fidgeting with his fingers.

“Oh, are you ready to order?” Dew asks, hoping to any higher powers above and/or below that he hadn’t been staring.

“Yeah. Can I get a… actually, what do you recommend?” Big Sexy asks, cocking his head adorably. Dew feels hypnotized by his dark blue eyes. “This is my first time here, I’ve been meaning to check it out for a while but kept forgetting.” He shrugs apologetically.

“Oh- yeah,” Dew stammers a bit. “I, uh, my go-to is a cold brew with hazelnut syrup and about half of one of those creamer cups.” He points at the side counter where a small shelf holds straws, sugar packets, and other extras. “You could add more cream if you want, I just like it a little bitter.”

I wonder what his cream tastes like, his horny brain supplies helpfully. Dew gives that part of his brain a mental smack and turns his attention back to Big Sexy.

“Alright, I’ll have that. Medium, please.” Big Sexy reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. Dew enters the order into the register, glad to pull his eyes away from Big Sexy’s.

“That’s $4.25.” Dew grabs a clear cup from a stack and jots down the order as Big Sexy swipes his card. “And can I get a name for the order?”

“Oh- Aether. A-E-T-H-E-R.” Big Sexy- Aether replies, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Aether…” Dew mumbles to himself as he scribbles down the name. “Sick name. Your parents must’ve been cool.”

“Actually, I uh- I named myself. Had a weird phase when I was 15 and it kind of… stuck.” Aether seems a little embarrassed by this, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dew pauses for a moment to consider this information. Aether could just be a nickname, or… well, Dew had renamed himself at 13. There could be a possibility that Aether was trans, just like him, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Instead he turns to begin making the drink.

“I’ll have it for you in a minute,” he tells Aether, physically restraining himself from sneaking another glance at those pretty blue eyes. That would have been weird, and he really doesn’t want to scare this guy off.

Dew finishes making the coffee almost on autopilot. He wants to ask questions- was he a student at the local college? If yes, what did he study? Did he have a private dorm room? Would he be willing to fuck Dew until-

Good lord, get your shit together. Dew thinks, giving his head a shake. Your break’s in half an hour. You can fantasize then.

He slides the finished drink across the counter with a little creamer cup on top. “Aether? Here ya go.” He didn’t really need to call out the order name since there wasn’t anyone else waiting, but he liked saying it. Aether. Ay-ther. It was a cool name.

“Thanks, uh…” Aether’s eyes dart down to Dew’s nametag. “Dew. That’s, ah- that’s a cool name too.”

“Thanks. Picked it out myself.” Dew rarely genuinely smiles at customers, but the grin he gives Aether is 100% real. “You’ll never guess what it’s short for.”

“Hmm… Dewey? Dwight?” Aether cocks his head again, not unlike a puppy. Dew shakes his head.

“Nope.” Dew turns back to the machines, picking up his discarded cleaning rag. “You can keep trying, I doubt you’ll get it.”

“Guess I’ll have to keep coming back.” Aether chuckles. “Do you guys have a punch card by any chance?”

Dew sputters, left reeling by the comment. God, he’s pathetic. The mere suggestion that Aether might be coming back makes his heart flutter like a teen with their first crush. Oh fuck, was this a crush? He’s too old to be having those.

“Um- yeah, let me get one for you.” Dew turns back to the register to hopefully hide any blush he had and retrieves a punch card from the drawer under the counter. He remembers to grab the hole puncher too and clicks a hole in the first space on the card. It was a heart today, of all shapes. “Here.”

“Thanks so much.” Aether gives Dew a smile and poor Dew can do nothing but stare at his stupid, gorgeous puppy eyes. “I’ll make sure to come back.”

“Y-yeah, see you soon then.” Dew manages to say with a nod. He watches Aether leave- Good lord, that ass is a sight to behold- and decides to take his break early. He taps Swiss in and makes for the back door of the kitchen.

Leaning against the wall next to the dumpster, he lights up a cigarette and takes a long drag. His head tips back against the brick wall as he exhales the smoke. God… pull it together. You are twenty-four. You have a job and hobbies. You absolutely CANNOT be having a puppy crush on a CUSTOMER. Especially one you’ve only interacted with for five minutes. This is pathetic. Finish your cig and go do your job so you can get paid and be a functioning adult.

Dew does just that- smokes his cigarette down to the filter, stubs it out on the wall, tosses the butt into the dumpster, pops a mint in his mouth, and re-enters the kitchen.

The rest of his shift goes… fine, he guesses. He downs another red bull, banters with Swiss, gets scolded by Cumulus for “using kitchen equipment unsafely” (closing an oven with his hip), and manages to interact with customers without accumulating an HR report.

On his walk home, the darkening autumn sky is remarkably close to a certain shade of blue. Dew grits his teeth and turns his gaze to the sidewalk.

kudos and comments on ao3 would make my day!

#nameless ghouls #the band ghost #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #dewther #dewdrop/aether #aether/dewdrop #trans dewdrop #trans aether #trans ghouls #wham writes #Dewther TDF #tenth drink free

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yellowwwcrayon · 4 months ago

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genderswap AU (always a woman!Logan x Wolverine Origins!Wade)

A related thought I had a few days ago.

Warnings for the below - mentions of past child SA from Wade's uncle.

"Icebreaker question, when did everyone lose their v-cards?" Wade asked as annoyed groans broke out all around the campfire. Their new CO stood and walked off into the pitch black night without so much as a wave for good night.

Rude.

"Alright, now that the 80-year-old virgin has left the chat, how about the rest of you handsome devils, hmm?" He grinned at the sullen faces reflected in the fire's glow, shiny with sweat and gun oil and probably dried blood. "Oh, come on. I'm just trying to get to know my new teammates better. We just annihilated a whole ass cartel together, time to whip out some mimosas, gossip about our sordid pasts and braid Victor's chest hair."

Victor's jaw twitched as he zipped his vest up over that impressive plumage. The woman sitting next to him, the only woman in their little ragtag team of homicidal freaks mind you, snorted and lifted the lukewarm beer she'd been nursing for the past fifteen minutes up to her face. He watched her take a long swallow, some of the foamy white liquid sloshing over the corners of her mouth and meandering lazily down the olive skin of her exposed neck.

Fred cleared his throat, "sixteen. She was my high school sweetheart."

"Sickening," Wade commented after a pause, ripping his gaze off of Logan and picking up his own forgotten beer, "I'd like to say twenty," a few disbelieving laughs echoed through the men, "but officially, twelve and a half, to a weird uncle on my dad's side at a Christmas party."

Zero made a face.

"Why twenty?" John asked from beside him.

"Oh just because of how earth-shatteringly good it was," He kicked his legs out and rolled his shoulders back, acutely aware of Logan's eyes on him across the flickering fire, "you see, I was but a simple innocent Canadian boy before I met her. After, I emerged a man."

"You are so fucking weird," said Zero.

"Hush, Jimin, I'm telling the story here."

"Jesus."

"My car, well, it technically wasn't my car. I stole it off of a drug dealer south of the border, but I digress. Anyway, it had broken down on the side of the road in Albuquerque, in the middle of buttfuck nowhere and I was seriously contemplating trading my tight ass or hot mouth for a ride to the nearest town when my goddess, my princess in shining uh- plaid shirt and jeans, came barreling down the dirt path in this rusty pile of scrap metal-"

"Your princess sounds like a dude," Fred interrupted. "It was a man, wasn't it? I can already see the punchline coming from a mile away."

"Are you gay?" Zero asked, "you seem pretty gay."

Bradley, who had been listening quietly next to Logan this whole time, finally choked on his drink and dissolved into a coughing fit. She reached over and thumped him a few times on the back, her gaze never leaving Wade's face. He stared back.

"Sorry to disappoint, Suga sweetie, but I'm strictly into pussy due to the creepy uncles."

Zero's nose scrunched. "Ugh."

"Anywho, out hopped this beast of a woman," Wade went on, “she was fucking gorgeous, legs for days and tits the size of my head-"

"Singular or combined?"

Wade gawked at him. "Fred, what the fuck?"

"What?" He shrugged, "your head's not that big, Wade."

"This is a shitty story," Zero complained, folding his arms over his chest.

"As big as Logan's melons, ok? Stop interrupting me."

Everyone turned to stare at Logan, whose breasts strained against the sweat-stained wifebeater she was wearing, one black bra strap peeking out from over her left shoulder. She lifted an eyebrow at them and took another sip of beer. Beside Logan, Victor growled, sounding like a backed up motorcycle.

"That's pretty big," Fred finally nodded, "go on."

(Taking a short break from work to relax my brain and free write a bit. Yes, the mystery woman from Wade's story is Logan. They hooked up before they ran into each other again with Team X.)

#i'll probably add more later #in the reblogs #deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #deadpool 3 #deadpool & wolverine #deadpool #deadpool x wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine #wade wilson #deadclaws #wolverine origins

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hereforthehurtcomfort · 13 days ago

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haikyuu characters that use ao3, a list by me

Akaashi: i mean, duh. he reads AND he writes. when he experiences a minor inconvenience he would mumble damn ao3 writer curse. he tells bokuto about his fics, who is confused most of the time but always suportive

Yachi: again, duh. this girl has not had a problem that a 150k lesbian fic didn’t solve. she gets INVESTED and sends screenshots of the fic to the karasuno first years group chat with captions like ???????? and !!!!!!!!!!!! and *dies of lesbianism*

Yamaguchi: he loves his little gay bedtime stories and will yap about them to tsukki on the way to school every morning. he always leaves a comment and is subscribed to 272872 fics (he's reading all of them at the same time). he and yachi send fics to each other eventhough they’re on different fandoms and they know damn well they’re not going to read them.

Tendou: he talks about the fics like is something that happened to a friend. my man ushijima is super confused at first like ???? is your friend ok?? does he needs us to call someone??? LOVES mafia and apocalypse aus. he reads fics for fandoms he's not in

Suga: he loves a good angsty fic but he gets INVESTED and will call daichi at 3am sobbing like a mad man. and daichi, who's been asleep since 10pm, is SO fed up of him (this happens like twice a week). but he will always listen to the sobs and the poor explanations of what happened and why its the WORST

Kuroo: he went there for the silly little videogames stories and stayed because of the gay smut. he reads fics of the games kenma is playing and tells him everything that happens. everything. sometimes he even reads outloud while kenma plays who, let me tell you, has OPINIONS

Suna: he reads everything. and i mean everything. there is not a single tag he hasn't read before. his favourite thing is taking a screenshot of the kinkiest smutiest thing happening and sending it to osamu like us lol. they’re not together. he also reads for every fandom, doesn’t matter if he’s never heard of it before. 272972 tabs open

Oikawa and Hanamaki: together because its a group activity for them. they’re hanging out, one on each side of the couch, snacks in hand, reading the same fic and commenting absolutely EVERYTHING about it. is like watching a reality for them, but in reading form. they don’t read on their own

that’s all for now. might do a part 2 with more characters or just talking about this ones more cause i have THOUGHTS

feel super free to tell me what you think and to add your own hcs!!!! i'll love to hear them 😚✨️

#haikyuu #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu headcanons #akaashi keiji #suna rintarou #yachi hitoka #yamaguchi tadashi #sugawara koushi #hanamaki takahiro #oikawa tooru #kuroo testuro #tendou satori #ao3

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archangeldyke-all · 11 months ago

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can you write something about amab ceo sev and her trans identity and story, i love ceo sev sm she has my whole heart

yeah lets do it!

quick disclaimer! i'm cis, so if there's any mistakes/missteps lmk and i will fix it asap!

men and minors dni

i imagine sevika as one of those people who's just always known who they are. not just in terms of queerness, but like, just opinions and taste and personality in general.

so i think when she was a kid, she likely knew she was trans, just like she knew she liked women. she might not have had the vocabulary to name it, or known that other people feel it, but she never questioned it about herself specifically.

i dont think she would've told anyone, though.

sevika's incredibly perceptive-- she would have known, even as a kid, how talking about the different feelings she was having could upset people, or get her in trouble.

she found the words for what she'd always known to be true about herself when she was an early teenager. sevika's a big reader, and she was one of those kids who wants to know how everything works: from machines to nature to politics to society-- she'd stumble across the complexities of gender identity earlier than most kids do.

but again, she didn't tell anyone. sevika's no stranger to how horrible people can be-- she didn't want to give anybody an extra reason to fuck with her. instead, she just kept to herself, finding comfort in reading as many books and articles on queerness and transness that she could get her hands on.

she understood early on what she was up against, being a trans, gay, brown/black woman in this society. but she never let it deter her.

the second she turned fifteen she got a job as a busser at a restaurant in her town. she saved every penny-- and she worked all the time. besides the occasional pack of gum and pair of socks, the only thing sevika ever bought in was a junker of a car from her neighbor-- only $500.

she repaired it on her own during her free time. (of which, there was hardly any.)

the second she turned eighteen, sevika packed up her belongings in the backseat of her car and left her hometown never to return. it was now that she could finally start living her truth.

with her saving she managed to get an apartment to lease for a few months while she scrambled for a job. for a while, she was bouncing from security job to security job, but then she managed to snag a stable position as a saleswoman.

with her new job she got benefits. a 401k and healthcare.

she started going to therapy at, like, 20. again-- sevika's incredibly self aware. she was laying in bed staring at the ceiling once night, and she just thought to herself 'huh, you know, i've kinda been through a lot. i'm kinda going through a lot. i should... probably go to therapy.' and then she just did.

it took her a few tries to find a good therapist, but then she met a four foot tall little old lady who looked like mrs. clause but cursed like a sailor. sevika fell in love the moment they met.

mrs. clause-- or dr. walsh-- was a no-nonsense, no-bullshit kind of lady. each time sevika would try to downplay her achievements or doubt herself, dr. walsh would throw a crumbled postit at her face and rant-encourage-remind sevika about her strength and bravery.

with dr. walsh's help, sevika started to see her future as something that could be... positive. she'd been so focused on escaping the past, she forgot she could look forward. but once she did-- she was exhilarated.

it was definetly an, 'oh, shit, i can do anything i fucking want' moment for her.

she knew that she had it in her to do it-- she'd proven it to herself time and time again-- now she just had to decide what she wanted to do.

it took her a while, a lot of research and soul searching, but by the time she was 22 she started to socially transition.

her hair'd always been long, but she finally treated herself to a visit to a salon-- getting it styled in the perfect slightly slanted bob she'd always wanted. she made a promise to herself in the parking lot that she'd never cut her own hair again, she was so fucking thrilled with the experience and the outcome. (her stylist was a huge gossip-- spent the entire time telling sevika about her sister's sex life. sevika had a blast)

she started treating herself to more clothes. custom tailored suits for the office-- blouses and button ups and fun silky ties for underneath.

(all the while, she was effortlessly climbing the ranks at work. despite the horrible office culture in a competitive environment like sales-- money talks. and sevika was outselling all her co-workers.)

she found the name 'sevika' one day completely randomly. she hadn't really given changing her name any thought until her eyes glanced over the name in contact screen of a stranger's phone-- but she couldn't get the sound of it out of her head.

at 25, sevika started to medically transition. with a lot of research, both on her and dr. walsh's end-- she started estrogen.

she was thrilled. she knew changes couldn't be seen on a day to day basis-- but she swore every day she woke up looking and feeling more and more like her.

always a gym rat-- sevika's muscular frame started to carry a little more curve.

she smiled for a full six hours the first time she noticed her ass jiggling in the full length mirrors at the gym as she did burpies.

sevika was no stranger to eyeliner having gone through a bit of an emo phase as a kid-- but beyond that she found the sensory feeling of makeup unbearable.

but when she found out that there was such a thing as tattoo-able makeup-- you bet your ass she made an appointment. it hurt like a bitch but it was worth it when she could have perfectly defined dark lips all throughout the day no matter how many coffee cups she sipped from or chicken burritos she sank her teeth into.

at work, sevika had worked her way up so high the ranks that nobody dared to give her shit anymore. and when they did-- she just fired them.

she spent her late 20s dating around. she had a few girlfriends and a lot of flings, but nothing ever really worked for her. it did give her a shit-ton of confidence though.

the more herself she became-- both in her body and in her job and in her bed-- the bigger and brighter her future seemed.

this isn't to say she never had shitty days. she had plenty. some she journaled about, some she cried about, some she boxed about, some she called dr. walsh about. the worst ones she drank about-- though as she was growing up the hangovers were making this one less tolerable.

people are assholes. dysphoria is a fucking asshole. sevika's boss was an asshole. but when she felt close to drowning-- when she felt the grief and sadness and the self-destructive urges creep up-- she just closed her eyes and thought of herself at fourteen-- cooking up a plan to get as far away from home as she could. she imagines herself meeting teenage-sev, telling her all the things she'd come to do, (and all the girls she'd come to do, if you know what i mean, wink wink, nudge nudge) and she imagines how fuckin' proud little emo-acne-riddled-brace-face sevika would be of her.

it works every time.

on her thirtieth birthday, she bought herself a breast augmentation. she loved her tits-- but she just wanted a little more. she wanted to have to wear a bra under her silky button ups, instead of it being optional. but once she got them done she was so fucking thrilled she didn't want to wear a bra under her button ups. (she did, of course, because wasn't trying to cause an hr nightmare at work.)

when dr. walsh died-- sevika was devastated. there were a few months there where she was in complete depression. she made no attempt to find a new therapist-- she took as much paid time off from work as she could, just to sit around her house alone.

but then one night-- sevika swears on her life-- dr. walsh visited her in a dream with a message

'you better get your shit together girl! don't let all my hard work go to waste!'

sevika woke up the next morning laughing and crying, and she was back at work the next day.

she found a new therapist, and she forced herself to make new friends, suddenly aware that the only person in the world who knew her had died.

she started hanging out with some of her more tolerable co-workers, and she was shocked to realize that most of them were... actually pretty cool.

she started taking herself out to dinner-- just her and a book-- just so she could spend more time with herself.

she made it a point to take a vacation once every six months.

and when the ceo of her company stepped down, she was riding on a high. she was feeling good about life, so she decided: fuck it.

and she applied for the open position.

and then she got the job.

and at thirty five, sevika finally felt like she was in her bright future-- not just working towards it.

the night before her first night on the job-- sevika's mind was racing.

there were so many changes she needed to make, so many ideas she had to implement in the company. not to mention the fact that she had to buy furniture for her new office, and find an assistant-- and a good assistant is really fucking hard to come by-- and was she sure she could really do this job in the first place? what if she made a mistake accepting it-- what if she can't handle it--

sevika cut her racing thoughts off, scrubbing her face. she took a second to breathe, then she conjured up little-sev in her mind to give her an update and get a pep talk.

who the fuck are you? little teenage sevika asked, huffing as she had to shove her headphones off her ears.

'i'm you, jackass.'

...woah. we look... hot...

'duh.'

how did that happen?

'moved away, worked hard, got lucky, got rich.' sevika says, watching her younger self's eyebrows rise.

shit... look at our tits!

'i know-- they're great, right?'

fuck yeah. well... whaddya want?

'wanted to tell you we just got promoted to ceo.'

...really?

'yeah. we start tomorrow.'

...us?

'yeah. we're like... kind of a big deal now.'

...woah.

'yeah woah.'

then, just as she's about to drift off to sleep, sevika's mind speaks again.

...soooo... have we met our wife yet?

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby

#hehehe *enter reader*#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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twinnedpeaks · 9 days ago

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it’s DELAYED but it’s HERE:

my list of favourite and least favourite books i read this year as someone who reads a lot and works with books <3 mostly horror books since that’s my area, but other genres as well.

BEST:

thirteen storeys by jonathan sims - given how big a tma fan i am it didn’t surprise me that i loved this. but i have NOT shut up about it since. one of the horror books i rec most often at work. genuinely just so good. i love his brain so much. i wanna study it under a microscope.

interesting facts about space by emily austin - this book gave me an autistic lesbian with mommy issues in the best way possible. loved it so much. cannot wait for her new book.

a botanical daughter by noah medlock - i could have CRIED from how beautiful this book was. basically a frankenstein retelling with a tender, botanical, queer heart.

butter by asako yuzuki - i’m not usually a big crime/thriller reader, but this FLOORED me. read it coming home from a trip and i was so enraptured by the story and the dynamics. saw it won waterstones book of the year so! good for her.

brainwyrms by alison rumfitt - oohh miss rumfitt you’ve done it again …. such a viscerally brilliant and at times disgusting tale. i recced this to a regular at work and she messaged me saying ‘okay. what the fuck did you make me read’.

it came from the closet: queer reflections on horror - some of horror’s big queer artists talk about how they felt seen in horror media as lgbtq people!! so interesting. picked this up at gay’s the word in london.

a lonely broadcast by kel byron - this felt like reading a tma episode and that is a compliment. so unique and stunning. i want the next book now.

evocation by s t gibson - i’m rarely a fantasy girlie but BY GOD this ruled. tarot inspired magic system with a toxic polycule? from the author of a dowry of blood? sold.

monstrilio by gerardo samano cordova - i named this my favourite read of the year on ig for a REASON. holy fucking hell i still struggle to find words for this book. so full of grief and love and humanity.

bury your gays by chuck tingle - now THIS was fun as hell. gay slasher w some truly brilliant moments.

summer sons by lee mandelo - godddddd this. just. yeah.

compound fracture by andrew joseph white - genuinely one of the best modern horror writers out there, and this was no exception. managed to snag a signed first edition through work and i shall treasure it.

a sunny place for shady people by mariana enriquez - horror short stories!!!! loved all of them so much.

witchcraft for wayward girls by grady hendrix - i know hendrix is one of those authors you either love or hate BUT. i love his work, honestly. reminded me of ahs coven and the craft. i got an arc back in october and devoured it.

she’s always hungry by eliza clark - ah tapeworms my beloved <3 i will read everything clark writes forever.

perfume and pain by anna dorn - this was so messy and fun. truly what it’s like to attempt to be a writer while also being just a very messy kind of sad person.

evil in me by brom - i am a HUGE brom fan and this latest book was everything i could have wanted.

don’t let the forest in by cg drews - GOD YES I enjoyed this. reminiscent of summer suns or a horror version of the raven boys. loved loved it.

blackwater by michael mcdowell - how the HELL have i never read these???? southern gothic perfection. there are a couple books and i’ve read the first three and adored them.

WORST:

my throat an open grave by tori bovalino - when i heard it was a horror novel about fae loosely inspired by labyrinth i was so excited. it, however, fell SO flat and i was bored.

day one by abigail dean - only read this because i got it for free from work. it was not worth the money. reminded me why i don’t read crime novels.

we used to live here by marcus kliewer - ok it feels a little unfair to put this with the worst, because i DID have fun reading it. i was just wildly disappointed. i had so many people telling me it was the scariest book they had ever read, and it just felt a bit like a sad attempt at ripping off jordan peele’s us.

incidents around the house by josh malerman - honestly, same reasoning as above. just less fun and more boring.

let the right one in by john ajvide lindqvist - i’m sorry but the writing here was genuinely just so bad that i couldn’t focus on the story itself. great movie, bad writer.

dearest by jacquie walters - could not tell you what happened in this book. could not make myself care.

mean spirited by nick roberts - i’m sorry but this was just so fucking stupid i couldn’t take it seriously. you might love it if you’re really scared of dogs or communication.

#oh yeah ig is looksforghosts thats where i post those thingies

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autismcatboy · 5 months ago

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i hear the sunspot is a story about being human first, disabled second and a bl third. it doesnt flow like a bl and has very brief moments of romance because its not intended to be read/watched a romance.

the mangaka did not write it as a BL because she herself wasnt even familiar with it as a genre until after she started publishing. she was writing a story that just happens to also feature queer romance.

the live drama is not going to end with them getting together. its an adaption of just one series within the story and even at the most current series, they only barely got together.

the story is not unrealistic in how it handles communication (or lack thereof). its a lot easier to judge characters (and people in real life) when you think you have all the pieces, but the reality is we know very little about how others truly feel and when you have a lot going on and pulling you in different directions, its hard to know it yourself.

continued below the cut, spoiler free.

taichi and kohei are busy adults. between work/school, family and personal health, they dont have a lot of free time. many people dont have ways to contact friends they made in school because usually, you just see each other and dont think about exchanging contact information until later.

exchanging contact information is a bigger step to take in japan compared to places like the us. taichi uses a flip phone until hes pushed to get a smartphone after it breaks. data plans are expensive and many are selective about when and how they use them, and chatting apps like line are usually the main form of communication method. many people in the us dont like to give out their number or social media (which is also a feature of line) to people they know, like coworkers or classmates.

theres some pretty big assumptions about japanese culture and what its like to be a young adult by fans watching the drama that, in my opinion, just arent realistic. you're thinking like a bl fan and not like what people actually do in real life.

i hear the sunspot is a story about navigating the awkward, the hardships, fumbling and coming to terms with the things we may not like about ourselves. this isnt just about being disabled. able bodied, fully healthy people have things they dont like, push off and ignore. we see this in taichi, and how he continues to push that hes happy, nothing is wrong, he's just a big goofball and doesn't have anything below the surface and a lot of you have fallen for it.

relationships rarely go "we met, we fell in love, and now we are together and everything is perfect with only mild and entertaining drama." in fact id say they almost never do. people get scared to get close to other people, people dont think about if their feelings are romantic love or not when theyve never considered they might be gay. people get busy and distract themselves from addressing the things theyre not ready to look at and understand. all of these things happen much more often and often subconsciously, too.

people are mean and bullheaded when they feel like their comfort zone is threatened. people *run* when they feel like their status quo might change and they dont know what that will look like.

its easy to say someone is being ridiculous when you dont have their full story or dont stop to consider their circumstances. will it be different from how you'd react? absolutely. you lived a different life and had different experiences shape who you are.

but its equally as ridiculous to assume you know exactly how you'd react better than someone in their situation. no one is perfect, and definitely not 20 something year olds figuring out how to be adults after tough moments completely changed their childhoods. your early 20s, especially, is about thinking youre an adult and realizing just how little you know about adulthood. its easy to look back on when i was taichi and kohei's ages and say "oh there is a /lot/ that i fucked up with and couldve done better".

i hear the sunspot is about being human. the mistakes, the drama, the pain and the laughter. it happens to also have a gay love story but its not written to *be* a gay love story or even to be any love story in the first place.

if youre not willing to wait, and consider all the troubles that come before and during their relationship, this is not the story for you. save yourself the time, its got a long way to go. maybe come back in a few more years and see if the story resonates differently.

theyre not going to dive right into a relationship when they still barely know themselves.

#i hear the sunspot #hidamari ga kikoeru #catboy speaks #long post #ok to reblog

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quonah4dead · 1 month ago

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Closets may feel safe, but they sure are lonely

Word count: ~8.5k Rating: Teen+ for language, probably Pairing: Nellis Characters: Ellis, Keith

Summary: For a while, Ellis had been giddy like a little girl with a crush, running around in secret with whatever chick he'd fallen for, refusing to share any details with his best friend… Denying her existence… Confirming her existence before keeping it all hush-hush anyway… And it's been a bit over a month since she must have dumped him. Since then, to Keith, it's been like watching a corpse replace his partner in crime, and nothing Keith does seemed to get the life back in his brother's eyes. Keith's a stubborn man, but even he has his limits.

This is inspired by Primum, Non Nocere by ladyred and is set after Nick and Ellis mutually (miserably) agree to back off seeing each other, because they both suspected that people around Ellis were getting way too suspicious of him having a secret relationship. OR Nick broke it off 'cause he got scared of… something, idk what ladyred planned for them. I just know I was tormented with visions of this scene somewhere way down the line, and the cure for cursed visions is writing it. Proofread by self, if you see a typo either ignore it or let me know (gently).

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, panic attack, brief reference to gay conversion horror stories but it's like one sentence, fear of abandonment, keith's got finger stumps, boy's a little confused but he's got the spirit, also keith uses the r-slur once. it's 201X and these boys probably grew up t-bagging in COD lobbies, you can't tell me Keith would be terribly delicate with the gamer words

CONTEXT and CREDIT for inspiration: First, Nijuukoo's art came across my dash during Gravity Falls brainrot hours, and it was delicious, so I feasted upon their blog. Then, I noticed they kept tagging shit "bmb," and saying things I didn't get, like there was a fanfic or something. Then bmb took over my life. Then I read ladyred's OTHER l4d shit, and all of it's been living rent free in my head, nellis brainrot restored after a decade of lying dormant. Then I wrote this.

"---, y'know? HA!" Keith lurched his body forward with a shout and smacked the steering wheel with his pinky-free right hand as he wrapped up whatever the hell he was saying. Honestly, if you asked him two seconds after he finished yapping, he wouldn't have been able to recall any of what he just said. The words didn't really matter anyway, Lord knows he said plenty more than he ever needed to.

What was far more important was how his words were affecting his passenger, and how few words he was getting in return. The issue was, the person next to him was being painfully quiet, compared to normal. He turned to point a lopsided grin at the man riding shotgun, only slightly forcing the expression through his worry, and slapped his best friend's shoulder with the back of his hand.

"Am I right, or am I right, brother?"

The impact jostled Ellis in his seat. If he jolted to awareness, the blow masked it, and he immediately snorted, shook his head, and pointed a slim, but genuine, smile out the rightmost corner of the windshield. "Yeeaahh... When you're right, you're right, man," he drawled, sounding slow and tired.

Keith kept the smile on his face as he scrutinized his buddy. Ellis' eyes squinted up with affection, warm and true, but there was also a sad distance to his expression that he couldn't quite hide. Maybe he could've hidden it from anyone else, but sure as hell not Keith. That look had seemingly taken up permanent residence on his friend's face a while ago, foreign and out of place. He was getting fuckin' sick of it.

He'd BEEN fuckin' sick of it. For like two weeks at least. The first two (three?) weeks of it were sad, but tolerable. Sure, it was hard to drag Ellis out of bed for literally anything for a few days there. And sure, he'd regularly space out while working, just slouching there looking like death while elbow-deep in car guts. And sure, it was fucking obvious that he was suffering from heartbreak.

The guy had been giddy and eager and happy and excruciatingly secretive for like a month or two, using Keith as cover regularly while running off to meet some sweet piece of ass (Keith assumed), while vehemently denying the existence of the girl. It was like watching a puppy try to hide how exited it was for treats. He was so obviously smitten that everyone, Keith, Dave, Ellis' Mom - hell, even Paul groused about it once, and he hates minding other peoples' business... Shit, everyone was wondering if anyone else had heard anything about who was making Ellis sneak around like a lovestruck teenage girl who fell for the bad boy. It wasn’t like they were all gossiping about it constantly or anything, but Ellis’ behavior had become a source of unspoken tension in the background of their lives, popping up whenever he was acting weird.

Eventually he admitted that she existed (in a private conversation with Keith aided by beer), but withheld all details about her, and then a while later he just started moping out of nowhere like he had no reason to live. And even though Keith had never actually seen Ellis bring a girl home or get upset over a breakup before... It was so obvious. So. Fucking. Obvious.

Keith felt the willpower for his upbeat façade wither, and his smile tightened and wilted into a stiff, frustrated frown. Air escaped his slightly-scrunched remainder-of-a-crooked-nose with a harsh and extended huff, and he let his head loll hard to the left, glancing out the driver’s-side window in exasperation, before directing a slightly-absent gaze back onto the road. Keith’s right hand began whacking the car’s gear shift, creating a crisp tap-a-tap-a-tap-a-tapping as his wrist flicked between hitting his knobby thumb and ring finger on the clutch handle.

Pinching one of the radial spokes of the steering wheel between his left hand's ring and middle fingers, the single-phalanx stumps of his index finger and thumb were unable to do much more than brace against the base of the bar where it attached to the central hub, weakly supporting his guidance of the car. He raised his eyebrows, spread his the fingers of his right hand conspiratorially, and angled his head vaguely toward Ellis. "So," he started with a glance toward his passenger, "Tomorrow. We go into the city proper. Laser tag?" He waited a beat before getting a better idea. "Ooh! Ooh! Or we could check out one'a them like, arcade-y wall climb-ey places, like whut Tom was talkin' about! Y'know?" Keith kept glancing over at Ellis, hoping for something to light up in his eyes.

Ellis' eyes lost a portion of their glaze as Keith's words reached him. He took a breath and shook his head sluggishly, looking despondently through the passenger seat's air conditioning vents. His response was quiet, seated low in his chest, “I dunno if I’m—”

“— Feelin’ up to it right now, yeah, yeah…” Keith finished for him, trailing off and sighing. His voice lowered to just the barest mutter, “Never feel up for anything anymore.” He wasn’t entirely sure if Ellis could’ve heard that, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted him to. It was a little bit of a bitch thing to say, but Lord forgive him, he was gripped with an urge to be a bit of a bitch about it. He found his head shaking in tiny, quick jerks, lower jaw grinding forward as he suppressed whatever words were trying to throw themselves out his mouth on impulse. Sayin’ more bitch shit prob’ly wouldn’t help nothin’. His tapping against the clutch briefly got louder.

The hardly-winding rural roads provided little distraction. There was no traffic, beyond an occasional guy driving a junker, with whom Keith would exchange a slow chin-dip and leisurely salute with whatever left-hand fingers he could spare. Spiffier-looking vehicles didn’t get any such pleasantries.

The terrain was flat and predictable. Each side of the road was flanked by a lush, dense mixture of deciduous trees and swampy shrubs unique to their humid and subtropical climate, brought into a deep and vivid green by their typical 70-something-degree March rains. In the summer, the roadside ditches were practically always holding stagnant water, and frequent downpours made low-water crossings a regular chance to test the mettle of his latest preowned vehicle. Now, though, the water line was safely below his tires by a few feet, even at the lowest and least-maintained crossings. Boring.

And there were no turns that Keith could take at inadvisable speeds. Fucking boring.

Aaaaannd Ellis was still staring blankly out the window to the right, looking as dead inside as ever. Keith felt his chest pinch a little from… something that wasn’t exactly annoyance, but he wasn’t going to bother figuring out what it was. Fuckin’ annoying, he thought to himself.

Keith’s wide-open eyes darted rapidly below his furrowed brow at the greenery and straight county highway ahead of him, not really looking at anything. His gaze flicked to the right again, and he felt some kind of thought rise up behind his teeth.

His jaw ground a little tighter, and his right knee started wiggling left and right with the effort of withholding whatever the hell he was about to say. He felt his tongue rub the chasm left by the absence of his small left incisor tooth. The dam was breaking and his willpower was faltering, so he inhaled a hissing breath through his missing tooth, letting the breeze chill his bare gum, and just blurted out, “D’you know how much it sucks to see yuh like this, man?”

Ellis tipped his head back into the headrest and let out a delicate stream of air through his nose. His eyes rolled upward and then closed, irritation pinching at his brow while exhaustion slanted the corners of his lips downward. This did not deter Keith. He slapped and gripped the clutch with a bit more force than was necessary to emphasize his point. "Fuckin' sucks, dude."

Ellis directed a despondent gaze off to the side, a weak attempt at avoiding Keith's gaze. He dully shook his head, just a little, and sighed. "'M sorry, man. I..." His voice came out tired and husky. "Don't mean to be a downer, you know that."

Something in Ellis' tone suggested he had more to say, but Keith jumped on ahead before he had he chance. "It ain't that! You bein' a lil' sad ain't the problem! You bein' sad ain't--!" Keith smacked his hand on the clutch once, then another time, "--a problem! It's the fact that you've been like this for a month--,"

Ellis' head shaking intensified and his voice harshened as he tried to speak over Keith. "I don't got it in me for this right now, man--"

"-- and I ain't been able to do shit fer you, and I'm--"

"Keeeeiiith--"

"--startin' to feel like--"

"You don't gotta try to cheer me up, man!" That got Keith to shut up for about half a second, just enough to sneak in, "It ain't your job. If--" Despite the frustration Ellis put into the jerking of his head and the further raising of his voice, he felt like he was pleading with Keith to just-- he didn't even know. Just something.

"Uh, yes it is??" The interruption didn't stop the steamroller's inertia, apparently. "'S kinda how bein' a best bro works? Kinda in the job description?" He flared out all seven remaining fingers for a brief moment, at a loss. "I mean, what's even the point'a bein' a best friend if you can't do shit for your boy, y'know?" Keith started stammering out, "I-I-I-" as his mouth tried to buy time for his brain to come up with something to follow it with.

It was as close to stopping as he was going to get, and Ellis took the opportunity.

"It ain't got nothin' tuh do with you, man."

"Yes it does!" Keith struck his right hand on the steering wheel with a full-body jerk that bounced him in his seat, Ellis' contribution easily jolting his brain out of its stall. "It's got everything tuh do with me! You're miserable! Yuh look dead all the fuckin' time!" Keith furiously smashed his right index finger into his own sternum, sending staccato thumps rippling through his ribcage. "That's a me problem, man!"

Ellis punctuated every word as much as he could as he let his eyes close again, anger crinkling his nose. "No, it fuckin' ain't, Keith."

"Uhhh, yes, it fuckin' is, El!" Keith mimicked his deliberate cadence before falling right back into his agitated pace. "Why you actin' like this is just a you thing? Like ain't noooooobody got the right to worry 'bout'cha, like ain't nooooooo-one gonna-- fuckin'--" Keith's brain stalled out again, for a handful of seconds, but Ellis didn't try to get in a comment, so his mind could only resort to the program it had been running since this dumb moping started. "Why you actin' like-- like nothin' ain't gonna ever be worth doin' again if you can't keep runnin' off and playin' with yer special little lady friend?” His head roughly tilted left and right in a frustrated half-mockery. “It's been over a month, Ellis! I know breakups suck, but I--" Keith took one, maybe two seconds to pant and find words through an abrupt wave of anguish, powerful and alien and out of place on his face where it twisted his expression into one of pained desperation. The small choked sound of emotional pain, too, was alien in his throat, and his brow furrowed, lowered, as if some weak macho facsimile of anger could force the tension out of his voice. His eyes, however, would have betrayed his sorrow, had Ellis been able to glance at him.

"I miss my friend."

The statement hung there alone, for a minute or two. Neither man could bring himself to look at the other. Keith stared at some distant point through the asphalt in front of him. The raw admission narrowed his vision, and he didn't notice the days-old smear of raccoon on the highway's shoulder, even as it bumped underneath his tires.

Keith found himself deflating. He had all the fight in the world under the right circumstances, but without Ellis fighting back, all he had was... Being sad.

He reached for just a shred more of energy, tried to find something else to say to accomplish.... Something. Anything.

"I know you're hurtin', Ellis, but I--" He felt the last of his steam run out. There was no hot air left to blow. There wasn't even enough energy to complete the thought in his own head. A thin, tired wheeze escaped him as he slouched forward. His next utterance was just a whisper.

"Fuck."

Keith's mind went quiet. It was a weird feeling, having no schemes or jokes or anything running across his consciousness, nothing vying for his attention. Usually his head felt like a high school cafeteria pre-, during-, and post-food fight all at once. Right now, it was just a blank grey haze, somehow dulling all of his senses while the sound of the road seemed to roar in his ears. It was unfamiliar, and weird, and painful. Felt like broken ribs and black bruises, but in his heart and stomach and lungs. Internal bleeding. He sat there with the ache and the emptiness for... however long. A mile or two, maybe, before a miserable, hollow voice quietly piped up from the passenger's seat.

The sound was muffled. "... Ain't a girl, man..." Ellis had buried his face in his hands. Keith wasn't sure when it happened, if it was during his waning outburst or during the silence that followed. What he did know is that that phrase had, for quite a while now, been an inconsistent way for Ellis to terminate every conversation Keith tried to have with him. The shorter man oscillated between denial and admission, and Keith knew which one was true.

Keith's head shook slightly, and his reply was delicately soft in volume, but deep with the tone of his disappointment.

"And there yuh go, lyin' again."

He didn't really have anything else to say. They'd rehashed this small bit of dialogue so many times in the past few weeks. Keith didn't know which canned reply Ellis was going to pull out next, but he did know it wouldn't get them anywhere. But when Ellis replied, face still solidly planted in his hands, Keith stepped to his tune, anyway.

"Ain't a lie, man.

"If it ain't a girl, then whut is it." Not even asked as a question, really. Just a droll repetition of bullshit they've already been over.

"Can't tell yuh."

At this point in the exchange, Keith was supposed to say Why not? and Ellis would say Because I can't, man, and then they'd bash their heads together until they were both tired of it. But Keith was already tired. And so, instead of fighting, what came out of his mouth was--

"Sure."

And for the first time since the adrenaline and hype of their graveyard-dirt-bike parkour wore off, for the first time in miles during their drive back home, Keith felt Ellis' eyes on him.

That sky-blue gaze was flicking around the profile of his face. Something in Keith's chest tried to make some kind of feeling, but he was tired. And sad. And angry. So nothing in his posture or face changed in response to the new attention. He just kept staring out at the road with the tension in his brow.

Another something in Keith's chest tried to make a leap when Ellis actually re-engaged with the opening in the conversation, even if it was just more shit he'd heard already. "I--I really can't, Keith..."

"Sure."

Ellis jerked his head back in the bewilderment that surged up underneath his misery. His mouth flapped open and closed like a dumb fish, and true to form, apparently, he started desperately floundering for something to placate the wiry man next to him.

"I- You know I'd tell yuh if I could, right? You- I- Keith, I... Yuh can't-" Hurried breaths huffed out into the car as he kept searching the turbid conversational water for some kind of godsend. "Keith, please don't do this, man. I can't. Tell you."

Now that one managed to bring back Keith's temper, just a little. The sensation of being pissed came easily, even if the heat of the emotion was dampened by the exhaustion that had seized him previously. He let himself lean into it. His shoulders gave a harsh, quick shrug, he ran his tongue over his front teeth, and he jerked his jaw firmly forward.

"Sure."

He spat out the word like it was acid.

And like acid, it began burning a pit into Ellis' stomach.

"Keith..." Ellis pleaded. "I--," he gasped in a breath through his teeth, "--I can't! I'd tell yuh if I could, but--," a little grunt escaped him, "--I just-- can't!"

Ellis had tilted his face upward, hands palms-up in his lap as if he could collect droplets of apology and truth and forgiveness in them. His last words had come out as a near-whine as his throat tightened around them.

Keith didn't even respond.

The taller man kept his eyes fixed on the road, hands clenched on the steering wheel, and all Ellis' supplication seemed to do was make his friend's face pinch up further with a cold, stony anger.

He didn't even glance at Ellis.

The brunet's head flopped back against the headrest, pushing his hat slightly onto his forehead.

This is exactly the kind of thing he wanted to avoid.

Sure, Keith didn't know, because Ellis couldn't tell him, so it wasn't exactly the same, but the slim, scarred man next to Ellis wasn't even talking to him. Couldn't even look at him. His best friend hated him.

Was disgusted by him.

Was done with him.

It was all fucking over. Ellis did his best to keep his damning secrets and it didn't even matter, because now Keith was going to give up not only on cheering Ellis up, but also on their entire damn friendship. He's going to lose his best friend and it's not even--

Ellis' vision narrowed, whited out everywhere except for a tiny pinprick of red at the center of his vision.

His limbs went numb, needles piercing his fingers as his organs felt like they began shutting down.

It's fucking over.

I'm gonna die sad and alone under a bridge.

Keith didn't hear his friend's waffling, not really. Sure, the sounds hit his ears, but aside from, "I'd tell you if I could," nothing else registered. His mind filtered out everything else, and that little bit he did hear just pissed him off more. Lie after lie after dodged question after lie. He knew Ellis wouldn't tell him anything if he could, because Ellis could tell Keith anything, and he hadn't. He could tell Keith anything! How could that not be clear after how long they've been attached at the hip? How much they've done together?

Keith just kept his eyes locked to the road, his hands locked to the wheel, and his jaw locked down tight.

And then he heard a little stuttered breath, just loud enough to break through the fog of his cold seething.

Fuckin' great, now he's cryin', Keith thought to himself without looking over toward the other seat. I push him, he gets upset. I give up, he starts sobbing. Lord help me, I'm 'boutta lose it.

He heard another rushed, wheezed inhale.

Air leaked out of Keith's nose, and he felt the square of his shoulders soften a little.

Fuck's sake.

"El, I'm-- Okay, no, I am mad. I am. But couldjuh just-- put yerself in my shoes fer a second on this?" He glanced over at Ellis for a moment just to emphasize his point. In that brief second, he could see that his friend's head was planted into the headrest, eyes closed, with a weak grimace wrinkling his features.

"Wh-whuddya think my, fuck, my per-spec-tive is on this? How'd you feel, if I just shut'ya out've everything 'n' then kept givin' yuh shit excuses?" He looked over for a second longer, now, and saw the same thing. It hardly even seemed like Ellis was listening. Keith directed a frustrated glance to the sky, willing something to give him patience, 'cause Lord knows he wasn't born with any.

His thumb started tapping on the clutch again in a slow, irregular rhythm. "Y'gotta give me somethin', man. Y'can't get upset with me fer keepin' quiet, then pull this silent shit."

Keith found himself frequently peeking at Ellis, now, searching for any sign of engagement. Across the span of several quick glimpses, he noticed that Ellis wasn't really taking great, heaving breaths from crying. Hell, there weren't even any tears running down his face.

Actually, it hardly looked like he was breathing at all.

"El?" He started suspiciously, training a critical eye on his passenger.

Nothing.

Keith took a breath. "Ellis?" His attention was more fully on his friend now, the speed meter gradually dropping on his dashboard due to his diverted scrutiny. He was practically going the speed limit now.

Still, Ellis didn't respond at all. Didn't even budge.

What the hell...

A firm urgency entered Keith's voice now. "Ellis, c'mon, man, this ain't funny." He clasped his hand onto Ellis' forearm, gripping firmly. It made Ellis jolt, but all that accomplished was making him heave in a great, gasping breath, followed by panicked, shallow wheezes that bounced his ribcage in and out.

"Ellis?? Ellis, yer scarin' me, man, quit it!" Keith shook his friend's arm with an increased urgency. He rapidly flicked his eyes ahead and to the right, trying to avoid crashing while being far more concerned with the fact that his best bro was hyperventilating next to him.

The breathing wasn't slowing down, wasn't evening out. Keith kept his foot on the gas for just a couple moments longer before cursing under his breath, smashing the hazard lights button, and pulling over halfway off the backwoods road so people could pass him. He was unbuckling his seatbelt before the car had finished bumping its way to a stop, and the moment he was able to engage the emergency brake, he threw himself over the center console bin to wedge his torso between Ellis and his seat. He pressed Ellis tight to his chest, wrapping his long arms over and around Ellis' shoulders, and planted the side of his head against the back of his best friend's neck.

Ellis' hands jolted up to grip Keith's arms where they crossed ontop of his chest, white-knuckled grip pulling at the taller man's skin.

"C'mon, Ellis, c'mon. Breathe, brother, yer fine... Shit, man, breathe..."

Keith had no clue what to do. He just held fast to the compact, sturdy chest in his arms and ran his mouth with the hope that something good would come out. How do you convince a guy to breathe when he can't even hear you?

"It's alright, man, it's alright. Yer fine. I gotcha. 'S okay, 'm here. I gotcha... Jesus..."

Over the course of several minutes, Ellis' breathing became deeper. Gradually. His chest was still heaving and he still seemed unsteady, but at least the breaths were deeper now. He was getting air, at least. His hands started grabbing at Keith's arms with a bit more firm presence, and a bit less clawing desperation.

And then Ellis flopped his head onto Keith's left shoulder and shuddered throughout his whole body.

And then the waterworks started.

For a second, Keith was struck with the fear that Ellis had forgotten how to breathe again. He had gripped his friend's shirt and rubbed the thumb-and-a-third he had against his friend's stomach and chest, tension entering his grasp when Ellis' ribcage surged under his arms.

The feeling of a warm, damp droplet falling onto his forearm produced within him a morsel of sorrow, but also a surge of relief.

Crying is better.

He can handle crying.

The other thing made Keith feel like he was being dragged under by a gator, but crying was fine. Keith knew how to handle crying.

The slope of Ellis' seatbelt slid off his shoulder as he listed over to the left, and Keith's spine shifted to match him. Nothing needed saying right now. He just had to let Ellis collapse into him and ride out the tears, so that's what he did.

Ellis had always been a bit of a crier. He was tough as anything, resilient as hell, but movies, video games, and passings in the community had all gotten the shorter man anywhere between misty-eyed and bawling at some point. This was familiar territory.

Keith didn't have to see Ellis' face to know that this was some ugly crying.

He heard keening and groaning, sounds that were probably stifled wails. Little anguished chokes bubbled up around phlegm in Ellis' throat, accompanying what Keith was pretty sure was a line of watery snot dripping freely onto his forearm. Whatever. He'd covered himself in grosser. Couldn't fucking care less.

They sat there for a long time, rocking gently in their car seats. The sobbing came and eased in slow waves, repeatedly fooling Keith into thinking it was tapering off before something in Ellis' head reopened the flood gates. Three vehicles had driven by them, and Keith was grateful that none of them stopped to offer any kindness.

It had been thirty minutes, maybe? An hour? Keith had no real grasp on time. He just knew he'd sit there hugging his friend forever if that's what it took.

Slowly, finally, the flow of tears and snot ebbed for more than a few scarce moments. Keith directed his gaze from its previous position over Ellis' right shoulder, and glanced at the back of his friend's jaw. He let himself hope for the best, and kept his voice at its softest possible rumble when he decided to speak.

"Y'with me, buddy...?"

He heard a little hissed gasp through teeth, and Ellis pushed his head into Keith's left shoulder. It was something, but...

"Don't gotta talk, just-- just lemme know yer here."

Another sniffle met his request while Ellis managed to grind a nod back into the taller man's collarbone.

"Okay," Keith whispered. "Good."

He nervously plucked at the material of Ellis' t-shirt, pinching it up and smoothing it back down again, mind helpless and blank. When Ellis breathed as if to speak, Keith's spine tensed with unwavering attention.

"Duh-don't-," Ellis panted out, interrupted by another sniffle and a gasp. "- hate me."

Keith froze.

He was mortified. Maybe a little offended, too.

"Whut the hell are you on about, Ellis? Whuh-- How--"

The calloused hands on Keith's forearms tightened their grip.

"D-don't. Please," Ellis begged, "Keith, I-"

"Ellis, man, what the hell's got you thinkin' I hate you?"

"I s-saw it on yer-- face."

Bewildered, Keith's head shook a little on its own. He tried to keep his volume gentle through the shock of Ellis' assertions.

"Ellis, I- I just got a lil' pissy..! That ain't... I don't hate you, man. I could never hate you. What's gotten intuh you?"

A small mewl accompanied the agonized head-shake on his chest. The friction of the movement finally pushed Ellis' cap off his head and into the gap between the seat and the median, but neither man reached for it. Ellis knew Keith was bit of a bull-headed prick sometimes. How could this possibly have gone so far down shit creek? He followed the compulsion to smooth over... Whatever the fuck this was. Maybe he could find a paddle. Reverse course.

"I'm sorry, man, I didn't... I didn't think--" He couldn't figure out what to say next. I didn't think you'd go'n start dyin' if I stopped fighting you on your shit.

Ellis's thumb started gently rubbing back and forth on Keith's arm. It was a bittersweet feeling that pulsed through Keith's heart when he realized that Ellis was trying to make him feel better.

"'S'okay, Keith... I get it."

He sounded so defeated.

What the fuck is goin' on that makes you think I'd ever hate you? What the fuck do you think could make me hate you? Keith squeezed the man in his arms, let the silence drag on a minute. His tongue darted out to wet his lips before carrying on.

"So... Okay, y'don't gotta tell me nothin', man. You don't, honest. I'm done pushin' yuh." He didn't actually know if that one was true. Seemed like the kind of claim he'd forget about in two days. "It's just--" Keith bit his scarred lips between his teeth and jostled Ellis slightly in his embrace. "I just gotta get somethin' straight, okay? And y'don't gotta answer me on these, neither. I just- have to get this straight."

The only response he got was a little press of fingers clasping harder to the lean meat on his arms.

"So- you can't tell me what's gotcha all upset. Can't tell me why yer all fucked in the head." It was a half-statement, half-question. He gave Ellis space to say something, but the opportunity was left untouched.

"And you can't tell me why you can't tell me why."

At this, Ellis shook his head and made a pathetic little negative mm-mm sound in his throat.

"And you can't tell me, 'cuz you... Think I hate'cha?"

Ellis shook his head again. "Y-you-- will."

If it weren't for what was coming out of Ellis' mouth, Keith would've been ecstatic at how much more he was getting out of the brunet right now. As it stood, however, he kinda wished he wasn't hearing it. The relief and the pain, the disbelief, mixed together into something that was almost numbing. Almost.

"You can't tell me why you can't tell me... Because you think I'll... hate'cha. If'ya do."

Ellis nodded his head weakly and squeaked.

Keith shook his a moment after.

"El?" Keith started gently.

"... That's gotta be the dumbest fuckin' thing I ever heard'ya say in my life."

Ellis made a little huffing noise, and Keith didn't know what it meant. He didn't ask about it, though, and he certainly didn't let it stop him.

"I'm serious, man, that's fuckin' retarded." Affection bled from his voice as he said it. He tried to infuse every word with as much gentle passion as he could, though his voice was ill-suited to it. "Ain't nothin' in the world you could do or say to get me tuh stop bein' your problem, brother. You're stuck with me fer life, whether you like it'er not." He jostled Ellis a little, trying to make sure what he said made it to Ellis' mind. "Feel like that's pretty obvious. But, okay, fuck me. You can't tell me what's got'cha all fucked in the head. And you can't tell me why you can't tell me, 'cause you think I'll hate you."

He couldn't stop himself from tacking on a small indictment.

"Which is stupid."

His thumbs just briefly tapped on Ellis' arms as he tried to figure out what to say next. God, he was so ass with delicate shit.

"... Can you tell me why you can't tell me why you can't tell me why..."

He felt like it was the wrong thing to say. He also felt like it was a stupid thing to say. Self-consciousness furrowed his eyebrows as his mind began to parse what his mouth put out there, and he started slowly counting the number of 'whys' in that question on his fingers, getting the words all mixed up in his head and having to restart the finger-count at least twice.

He could not see Ellis' dam breaking. He couldn't see the built-up reservoir of the misery of hiding, of years upon years of the fear of being known. Being caught. The perception that being discovered would simply end his life the moment anyone found out.

He also couldn't see that at that moment, for Ellis, the fear of losing his best friend was far greater and seemed far more imminent right now, due to Keith not knowing. A feeling had settled within him, that he would lose Keith, closet or no, and there was some kind of weird peace in the sensation of standing on train tracks over a pit of spikes. He would be impaled if he jumped, and crushed if he didn't. It was freeing, in a way. He'd die no matter what, so why not give Keith an olive branch? Just a little something, to ease the pain of being discarded. Or maybe it was to revel in being vindicated while he burned on the pyre.

It took Ellis speaking to break Keith out of his linguistic counting loop.

"If anyone... Finds out," Ellis started, sounding mournful, sure, but sounding a whole lotta resigned, too, "... I'll lose fuckin' everyone, Keith."

He left a space for Keith to interrupt, but he didn't. Keith waited.

"I'll lose you. Paul. My job."

"... Mama."

"You guys are my everything, man. If I lose y'all, I ain't got nuthin', and I can't--"

Ellis sighed here and let his head roll forward, just a little away from Keith's embrace. He didn't care to finish the sentence, and he also wanted to skip past any protesting Keith might try.

"And don't tell me I won't, neither. That nothin'll happen. Y'can't know that, Keith, I've heard more'n enough stories to know that- that people lose people over this shit. Some people get--"

Ellis didn't want to finish that one, either. Some guys get sent away'n' tortured for this kind'a shit.

Their own mothers do it to 'em.

"So that's why I can't tell yuh, Keith. It ain't got nothin' tuh do with you, 'n' I'm sorry. But it just can't-- No one can know."

Keith was struck with a roaring urge to contradict Ellis, and he accidentally blurted, "Well that ain't--," before managing to stop himself with a herculean effort. That was exactly the thing Ellis specifically said not to do.

He took a deep breath and tried again. Lord, this was hard.

"Okay, so- y'said not tuh- tell yuh- that you won't... That yer mom'n everyone'll stick around if yer big dirty secret gets out. So I won't. I guess." Keith lowered his voice and narrowed his eyes. "Even though you're bein' a shithead."

"But I ain't goin' nowhere, El.” His pace started slow and deliberate as he tried to come up with things to prove his dedication. “If yuh killed someone, I'd help you hide the body. If yuh robbed a bank, I'd get pissed at'cha fer not invitin' me, 'cause that'd be sick.” The prickle of a scheme poked at his mind demanding attention, though he was mercifully able to stay on topic. “You pulled me outta so much bullshit, man, and you still keep draggin' me to the doc, even though yuh don't gotta. I ain't makin' you."

While Keith misinterpreted the reason for Ellis cringing at the mention his medical mishaps, he certainly didn't miss it. He waited for a second, and Ellis took the chance to protest.

"Well that's- all that was..." Fun. Funny. Necessary to save your life. Different.

"That was all 'cause we're bros. Ride or die, together forever, tuh hell'n'back. You— lookit me, Ellis, c'mon, look at me." Keith pulled himself out from behind Ellis, still leaning over to clap his hand on his friend's shoulder and shake it.

When that didn't get him any eye contact, he snatched Ellis' left hand up in a crushing, pinkyless grip, and planted his other fist on his left thigh.

"Lookit me," he enunciated heavily, meaning to leave no room for resistance.

He only continued when Ellis' miserable look met his fiery stare.

"I ain't goin' nowhere, Ellis. An' that ain't a promise, that's a threat. I know I get a bit weak about promises sometimes, so-," he cut off there, feeling slightly guilty in that admission. He was a bit surprised at it, too, because he'd never really thought about it before... But then he snapped his attention back on track and threw himself right back into whatever the hell he was saying.

"But Keith don't make no idle threats! I ain't a pussy, man, and- everyone- so, I--" So many different things were trying to come out of his mouth, now, he couldn't out get a single coherent phrase, but god damnit he had so much to say and he was so close to some kind of breakthrough, he knew it, and he just had to- fucking- say something, and-

"So I am threatening you, with bein' stuck with my exploded ass, forever, no matter fuckin' what you do, 'cause you're the worst, and the only righteous punishment God has for you fer bein' too goddamn nice is- is-- is havin' tuh deal with my bullshit for the rest of yer stupid life."

Keith let his eyes settle on Ellis' after his outburst, and he felt... Weird. Felt like rugburn in his guts. He felt like he was clawing his way to the surface of whitewater, and he felt like the air had been knocked out of him. Kinda reminded him of panic. Was he panicking?

"Y'hear?"

Yeah, maybe he was panicking a little. Or something else close to it. Fear? Was he about to cry? His voice wobbled when he wrapped it up. That was weird. Not normal.

And he felt more pressure build in his chest when Ellis fixed him with an intense, scrutinizing look. He was looking for something on Keith's face, and Keith wasn't sure if he'd found it.

But whatever he saw, it must have been enough, because the next thing he said made Keith's heart fly into his throat.

It came out quietly, and cautiously, starkly contrasting with the tension of their eye contact.

"... Yuh promise...?"

Keith was flabbergasted. Desperate hope exploded in his chest.

"Uh- A'course. Of course...! Obviously? Dumbass?"

"No, Keith, I-- do you promise??" Ellis gripped hard and shook their clasped hands for emphasis. It was so important. It was so important.

Keith steeled his expression with all the grim determination he had ever felt in his life.

"Ellis? You ain't never gettin' rid'uh me. You can't, 'less you let me bleed out on the pavement."

And he fucking. Meant it. He proclaimed it into existence, into truth. So he hath threatened, and so it shall be.

Ellis held his gaze a little longer. Keith couldn't tell what he was thinking, but that didn't matter. Keith could feel in his bones that they were on the verge of something great. His boundless confidence had come surging back in a great swell, and with bright, brimming gold lining his vision, he couldn't imagine any outcome other than unadulterated triumph shared between himself and his best friend.

Which is why it kinda confused and deflated him when Ellis's face pinched up, chin trembling just a tad. He cradled his head in his other arm, his right arm, to hide it, and muttered, in shame, "... It ain't a girl."

Keith... Didn't know what to do with that. He kind of just stared, brain buffering and jaw tightening. He thought Ellis was gonna start spilling the beans, and instead he just repeated the same line as always...?

He sat there, silent and unmoving, for however long it took for Ellis to pause, take a deeeep breath, and hold it until it puffed out in a different answer.

"It's a guy."

Ellis kept himself folded over, arm pressed against his eyes. Keith was at a loss. It took a moment for the words to register, and he immediately began puzzling out what the hell that could mean.

It's a guy...?

What, like he's gettin' bullied or somethin'...?

Is someone threatening him...?

Ellis didn't follow up the statement very quickly, but Keith was so busy being confused that there was plenty of room for him to continue when he piped back up.

"We... People were startin'tuh... Get wise that I was up'tuh somethin', seein' someone in secret, so he- we thought it'd be best tuh... Break up. Before anyone found out."

Break up

It's a guy

Ain't a girl

Seein' someone

All the words bounced around in Keith's head like ping pong balls. It took a few moments for the right wires to connect in his many-times-concussed brain. But when those neurons finally fired properly, it was as if a thousand pins dropped at once.

Oh.

He felt like a deer staring into headlights. His words came out like molasses, like he was processing them as he was saying them.

"So, you were... Datin' a... guy...?"

Ellis didn't respond at all. He just sat there, hiding from Keith while holding onto his hand. He didn't really need to say anything, though. The silence was confirmation enough.

"Oh."

A gentle thumping began sounding out as Keith's left thumb stump set itself to tapping against the driver's side window controls. When that didn't seem to be enough stimulation, his fingers started pushing and pulling the window levers with minds of their own.

He had nooooo clue what to do with that information.

A gentle mechanical vrr-vrr-vrr sounded out from all four corners of the car as he clicked the controls up and down.

It wasn't like that was a problem, not really. It's just...

Well, shit, that kind of thing had never crossed his mind before. He'd never had to think about it.

He knew it was a thing that, like... Happened? Guys dating guys wasn't unheard of. It was a thing he knew about, in a vague background awareness kind of way. But...

It just never mattered. There was no reason to bother thinking about it, turning that fact into a part of his worldview. Nobody he knew was like that, and nobody he knew had friends who were like that, and it just... Was a blind spot.

And now that that blind spot was being smashed, he didn't know what to think.

Did this change anything?

Was this supposed to change anything?

Was he supposed to feel some kind of way? Was he supposed to say something? Was there a user's manual for... This situation?

vrr- vrrrr- click- vrr- click- tap-a-tap-a- vrrrrrt-

Keith almost didn't hear Ellis speak over his fidgeting, so quietly and slowly he began.

"I... get it, if you don't- wanna hang out, anymore. I really do." Keith felt his stomach give a panicked jolt, kicking hard against the static that had been occupying his mind. "It's fine. You just- wanted--"

"Woah, woah, woah, hold on there!" Keith put his left palm out, placating. "I said I ain't goin' nowhere, an' I meant it, I just- uh..." He scratched the back of his head with his free hand. "Well, shit, man, I just wasn't expectin' that answer, that's all."

With the windows still open, the roar of car tires on pavement filled their space for a brief moment as another vehicle passed them by. He floundered.

"I just don't know what tuh..."

The uncommon sting of awkwardness prickled across Keith's back.

"Shit, I'm fuckin' this up... Dammit, Keith, yuh dumb asshole, stupid, stupid, stupid..."

Keith rubbed at his eyes in frustration. He was too busy cursing under his breath to notice Ellis lift his head and look at him, but when Ellis started speaking, his eyes snapped over to the right. The brunet seemed like he was bracing for something.

"You... Aren't disgusted, or... Gonna- yell at me, or...?"

"No! No, hell no! Why'd I do that?! That's dumb!"

The scrutiny Ellis directed his way was uncomfortable. "Yer... Not weirded out by it...?"

"Whuh- no! It ain't-" Keith couldn't stop a little bit of truth from leaking out in a little awkward admission. "I mean it's- a lil' weird... B-But that ain't bad'er nothin'!" He quickly amended. "I mean, hah, I'm a lot weird, 'n' I'm the greatest! So..."

Keith didn't even have to look at Ellis to know that that had to have been the wrong thing to say. He immediately flopped his face into his free hand again.

"Dammit."

The silence that settled between them felt excruciating to the taller man. It was such an unfamiliar thing, to feel like so much was riding on the words he chose and how he assembled them, and to actually be concerned about it. To have to mind his step when normally he just bowled into every conversation the way he bowled himself into junkyard obstacle courses. He was not built for delicate situations. When put in delicate situations, he usually just accepted that he'd break shit, leave shards lying everywhere, and step on 'em. Usually, that was fine.

Right now, getting cut up on emotional glass shards and rusty nails didn't feel very badass at all.

Kinda felt like shit.

Abruptly, Keith dragged his palm upward against his forehead, pushing back his coarse, ashy-blond bangs to bare the text underneath. He tilted his face to the right, though his eyes stayed averted, and shook Ellis' hand urgently where they still held their grips.

When Ellis didn't react, he pressed harder. Shook their hands harder.

Tired blue eyes looked up from where Ellis was slouching, head moving loosely as if it was only just attached to his neck. He was quick to notice it.

I'm a moron

The sudden dryness in Ellis' mouth didn't keep his throat from constricting around a reflexive swallow.

Uncovering that tattoo was something Keith only really did under two conditions.

Either he was bragging about something absurd he'd done, was doing, or was actively planning to do, wearing the tattoo loud and proud like a battle standard of badassery. That was actually a rather common occurrence.

The other condition was that… He was so desperately at a loss that he resorted to the text on his forehead like a lifeline.

It was Keith showing his belly, and he was asking Ellis to witness it being bared.

It was an apology, a plea for help, and a request for forgiveness all wrapped up into one gesture. Once, a year or so ago, when Keith had pulled this move before, he'd said he felt like he was getting his dick ripped off. The guy was struggling.

A sad kind of compassion softened the tension in Ellis' face. Air blew out his nose as he found something to say to ease his friend's fear.

"S'okay, man. I ain't gonna be mad atcha for- feelin' however you do. Not gonna pretend..." He shook his head, redirecting to what was more important to get out. "But'chu wanted to know, and now you know. That's why I been so lame lately." Ellis picked at a loose thread on the seam of his jeans. "I just- I just gotta ask one thing'a you. Even if yuh can't bring yerself to- even if you end up thinkin' different'a me."

A deep sincerity, firming Ellis' expression despite the gentleness of his voice, pierced straight through Keith as he held the eye contact.

"Y'can't tell nobody. This can't get out. However you end up feelin', whatever you're gonna do, no one else can know. Okay? I- I can handle losin' one person, I think, but if I- if I lose Ma over this, I misewell just throw myself under a car now'n' save us all the trouble."

Horror washed over Keith, a churning sensation rising in his stomach. He didn't have the awareness to hold back what he started blurting out.

"Ellis, she would never-"

A sudden surge of anger rose to meet him, abrupt and shocking, and Ellis' tone demanded compliance. "Dammit, Keith, I ain't playin'! You don't know that, and’ya can't know that. I know ya wanna tell me that it wouldn't change nothin', but I heard enough horror stories to know that it ain't worth riskin'. I can't lose her, man. This can't get out to no one."

Those blue eyes flicked between Keith's golden brown ones, and Ellis thumped their hands, still clasped, against the arm rest between them. "Okay?"

Agreeing to this felt like the wrong thing to do. Keith knew Ellis' mom would never abandon him or hurt him or whatever the hell Ellis thought would happen. The woman was too good and too smart to ever do that to her son. There was nothing so certain as the breadth and depth of her goodness, passed down directly to her son and cultivated with more love than mankind was meant to contain in their frail bodies. There was no way in hell that telling her could be a mistake, and yet... Ellis made it sound so dire. The shorter man was certain of his conviction, and... Hell, what the fuck did Keith know about this? Discomfort pinched at Keith's brows and he bit at the inside of his bottom lip a little. Unfortunately, it felt like there were no other options.

"Okay," he conceded with a heap of regret that lingered even as cautious hope entered Ellis' posture.

"I ain't gonna tell no one. I'll keep it to m'self. I still think you're wrong, but..." His mouth moved around his face after he gritted out the word 'wrong,' jaw flexing and nose crinkling, as he wrestled with the bad taste that had taken up residence there. "I'll keep yer damn secret."

Relief and disbelief both were tangible, then, emanating from the passenger's seat. Didn't really make him feel better about any of this, though. He started rolling up all the windows, and he could tell he caught Ellis' attention as his left hand grabbed for the keys in the ignition, right one still locked in its nine-finger embrace with Ellis' left.

The car rumbled to life, and he took a second to crane his neck, checking his mirrors and blind spots.

"But'cher stayin' at my place. You walk intuh Ma's house with your face like that, she's gonna know somethin' went down."

Gawking greeted him at that, Ellis' jaw slack and eyes wide, though a furrowed brow betrayed a still-guarded element to how he was feeling. Like it was too good to be true, and he was waiting for someone to leap out and beat his face in for being so stupid as to believe it.

Keith didn't feel like humoring it with kid gloves.

"What, you wanna go to yer mom's place, lookin' like that? Y'look like shit. I toldja, man, you ain't gettin' rid'a me. I'm still yer damn problem. Best bros ferever, ride'r'die, tuh hell'n'back, and I'll hold yer damn hand all the way home if I gotta," Keith said, drawing back his upper lip aggressively and shoving his left index finger-stump in Ellis' face with shoulders high. "Fuck you."

He turned harshly back in his seat, shifting into gear and then slapping the steering wheel into position with one hand. He pulled back onto the road with way more gas than was needed, as usual, and as he floored it back up to twenty over the speed limit, he vaguely noticed the way Ellis's eyebrows raised out of their skepticism and into incredulity. He ignored it.

What Keith missed was how Ellis' lower lip trembled briefly, and how dampness touched his eyes when he looked off through the passenger's window. Ellis let his eyelids drift closed, and his shoulders rose and fell with slightly-hurried breaths. But this time, he was not going to cry from distress.

This time, his eyes misted with a flood of relief.

Pressure was applied to Keith's sinewy hand, gradually ramping up to a firm squeeze before relaxing into a soft thumb-rub of probably-gratitude.

Keith gave a quick, bone-crushing double-squeeze in return.

They didn't talk at all for the remainder of the drive, beyond the driver's occasional muttered cursing at people driving reasonably. By the time they got to Keith's apartment, their palms were gross and damp, shared sweat turning soil into gritty, thin mud.

But, true to his word, Keith didn't let go once the whole way there.

#l4d2 #ellis l4d2 #keith l4d2 #nellis #fanfiction #fanfic #my shit #long post #left 4 dead 2 #primum non nocere

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dontsh0vethesun · 1 year ago

Text

misunderstandings

part five of home for christmas

natasha romanoff x reader

The hallmark movie inspired Christmas story that nobody asked for.

Natasha Romanoff fell out of love with Christmas, but perhaps a certain someone could help her find the festive magic once again.

Coming home to her small hometown from her life in New York City, the children’s author is reunited with the people of her past; some are happier to see her than others.

But, will rekindled relationships inspire the Christmas story she’s struggling to write? Or will she go home empty handed?

these gays are dumb, glimpses of the past, idiots in love, they’re actually just so stupid, christmas, probably too much dialogue

a/n- ik it’s not christmas anymore but there’s only one more part!! also my christmas was dookie so i’m letting myself take ages on this <3

part one | part two | part three | part four | part six

wc: 3.6k

“I heard there’s an update on the Natasha situation,” Sam smiled, his grin was mischievous and you almost wish you weren’t so attuned to his compulsion to stick his nose into business that’s not his.

“Where’d you hear that?” you answered, directing a pointed look in Wanda’s direction whilst she worked on a coffee order.

“Don’t look at me,” she defended, raising her hands in surrender.

“I’m an intuitive guy,” Sam smirked in return. “I don’t need anyone to tell me, the weird look all over your face is all I need.”

“You need to be this invested in your own life,” you groaned. “Where’s James these days, huh?”

“I’m not falling for that trap,” Sam laughed. “What happened? What’re your feelings? Please tell me,” the man practically begged.

“Fine,” you conceded with a sigh, leaning against the counter whilst there was no line of customers needing your attention. “We bumped into her at the fair last night, that’s all.”

Your dismissive shrug on the topic was not enough to appease him, however, and the faux scowl he addressed you with was enough to let you know that he was aware of your downplaying of the situation.

“Alright, fine,” you groaned with a roll of your eyes. “We talked a little and I’m still confused,” you surmised.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Did she apologise? Are there…butterflies? Give me something,” Sam pleaded. “I need to know whether to give her cookies laced with laxatives or not.”

You laughed at his seriousness - it may have happened a couple of times during high school but you all took an oath of secrecy.

“She didn’t apologise,” you frowned, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible lest you allow your apprehension on the topic to swallow you whole. “She seems different though. I want her, so badly, to be different. But maybe I’m stupid to hope for something - maybe we really just aren’t a good match.”

Sam’s eyes were soft and comforting, his lips parted to speak before another voice piped up opposite you. Kamala had arrived for her daily hot chocolate - extra whipped cream and marshmallows, of course. She takes the promise of free drinks for friends very liberally.

“As someone who’s been trying their hardest to be neutral,” she started. “You did look cute together last night - and the way she looks at you - God, it’s like a real-life rom-com. Kind of gross, actually,” she rambled on. “By the way, I wasn’t eavesdropping.”

“You weren’t?” You smirked, eyebrow twitching in question.

“No,” Kamala quickly replied with a shake of her head. “It was just, uh, intuition.”

“Wow, you might have a superpower there, Mala,” you scoffed laughingly.

“Really though, it definitely seemed like there was something there - on both sides.”

“I dunno,” you sighed with an exasperated shake of your head, cheeks flooding with heat at the three pairs of eyes witnessing your bashful feelings towards a certain redhead. Whether you hide it or not, all of your closest friends have developed a certain sense of reading between the lines painfully well. After all of these years, you suppose it’s merely a trait of a strongly entwined bond. It doesn’t make it any less annoying, though.

“At the risk of forcing you into a ‘mushy and embarrassing’ state, as you call it,” Wanda voiced from beside you. “What are you feeling about her now? You were pretty good at avoiding my questions last night,” she smiled with a poke of her finger into your side.

It was a tricky feat for you to let yourself be raw and vulnerable, it never is a comfortable thing. But, with a problem you were struggling to make sense of on your own paired with the sickeningly sweet and supportive smiles directed your way, it was harder to keep it all in than let it out.

“It - it kinda feels like before. Like, no time has passed, y’know?”

“In a good way?” Kamala asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I dunno, it’s like, somehow, all of those things I felt towards her all those years ago had never actually left. Like they were just sitting there in my stomach waiting for the right time to come back out.”

“It kinda sounds like you know what you wanna do then,” Sam smiled.

“I think I might,” you nodded. You tried to smile but the nerves that made their way throughout your body made it difficult and, as though it was written all over your face, your friends seemed to know just what to do to bring that smile out. You were pulled into Wanda’s familiar hug with Sam closing his arms around you from the other side and with some difficulty you were manoeuvred into Kamala’s reach. It was hard not to laugh at the glimpse you caught of her, leaning across the counter, practically kneeling on a plate of cookies nearby as she stretched out to join the embrace.

Whatever happens next, they’ll be there for you.

—

Meanwhile, Yelena sat cross-legged on Natasha’s childhood bed whilst her sister lay on her back with her eyes directed at the ceiling. She could still see the mark left behind from the glow-in-the-dark stickers you’d struggled to plaster up there, ones that had slowly begun to fall down. She’d never had the heart to throw them away and the used and tattered celestials still sat in the drawer of her desk.

“This is exhausting, Natasha,” the blonde groaned. Having been witness to it all from the beginning, watching it all play out as it has has been nothing short of tedious for her. She’s never been patient and this was no different. In her trademark Yelena fashion, she resents the long and drawn-out trail of feelings being muddled up and left behind, she would rather you both get on with it.

“You don’t think I know that?” her sister sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s complicated,” Yelena mocked in a less-than-perfect impression of Natasha’s voice. “What’s so difficult, huh? You’ve always had the hots for her, she’s always ogled you, it’s simple.”

“It’s a little more nuanced than that,” she mumbled. “So much time has passed and I made a stupid mistake. I left her behind, Lena. I just left and didn’t come back - she deserves better than somebody who’d just do that.”

“You were stupid,” Yelena agreed. She didn’t let her role as Natasha’s sister blur the lines between right and wrong, when it came to what she did she didn’t shy away from berating her.

She remembered the evening it happened, the redhead coming home in tears that were a rare sight to see. She held a book in her hand that was soon shoved to the back of her wardrobe to never see the light again; she comforted her sister as best as she could but by the time she’d unmuddled the series of events Natasha was already gone. She’d made plenty of phone calls telling her sister to come and make it right but the fear had sunk its claws in and nothing she said swayed it in her favour.

“I know I was - I know. But, when I saw her that night with Pietro it just looked so real. I think I was looking for a reason to chicken out of telling her, y’know?”

“And letting yourself believe she was already dating someone was easier than her rejecting you,” Yelena nodded. She understood her sister’s reasonings no matter how illogical they truly are.

“Yeah,” she nodded with a sigh. “I mean, she’s so perfect, it wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d been lucky enough to date her. I saw it, so why wouldn’t somebody else?”

“Okay, I didn’t mean to listen but you know I can’t help myself,” Melina suddenly announced from the doorway. Of course, she’d decided to come upstairs just as a ‘confidential’ conversation was occurring. “You never told me all this.”

“That’s because you’re a gossip,” Natasha groaned, sitting up against her headboard whilst her mother took a seat on the bed too.

“I just like knowing things,” she shrugged. “So, tell me what happened.”

“Fine,” she sighed, rolling her eyes at the clear excitement on Melina’s face. “So, it was Christmas Eve, the first one after starting college. At that point, it was like we were still in high school, we were all in contact and we were all meeting up on the weekends - nothing had changed.”

“Mhm, I remember,” Melina nodded. “I was scared you were all gonna drift apart, well, until you were the one that separated from them.”

“Yeah,” Natasha sighed with a frown. “So, we were all here and I’d had a lot of time to think. I mean, I was at a different college - she was at the same one as the Maximoff’s - and, it was a lot of time without her. It gave me a lot of time to think about her, it was so different not having her at my side all the time, y’know? So it made me realise that I just had to suck it up and be honest with us both about how I feel about her.”

“I think you two were the only ones not to know,” Melina muttered beneath her breath, earning an agreeing laugh from Yelena.

“Anyway,” she scowled. “I guess it was something I was always trying to avoid. I didn’t want it to ruin the friendship we had but it got so hard to ignore. All of my assignments - the stories I’d write - they all ended up being about her. It was like all of the feelings I tried so hard to ignore were just forcing their way out like they were too big to keep down.”

She took a breath and cleared her throat, blushed at the mere thought of you and let the comfort of her mother’s hand on her arm urge her to carry on.

“I wrote her this story - it seems so silly now,” she scoffed. “It was so cheesy - the kind of thing we’d make fun of - but I couldn’t help myself. I illustrated it and wrapped a red bow around it - it was hideous but I knew it’d make her smile. And, on Christmas Eve, I made my way to where I knew she’d be.

“God, just remembering it is so ridiculous. I don’t know why I let myself get in my head,” she grumbled with a shake of her head. “She was there, sitting in the quiet part of the town square, but she was only there with Pietro. Looking back, I know that Wanda must’ve been on her way but in that moment nothing was logical.

“I stood there, just looking at her for a second. I watched her laugh and I remember being amazed that my heart truly did feel like it skipped a beat - I always thought that was just some cliche until her. And as I stood there just watching, I saw Pietro point to this piece of mistletoe hanging above them. I thought it was funny at first and carried on walking to them but then his hand was on her cheek and in my mind that was enough to make me turn back around. I suppose I thought that, in the time they’d had together whilst I’d been away, they’d - I dunno - realised feelings?”

“Oh, Natasha,” Melina whispered.

“I know. It was stupid - it was probably just some joke but I was so scared. You know I’ve never been the kind of person to wear their heart on their sleeve and that was the perfect out my brain was looking for.”

“You caused yourself so much pain, honey. So much pain you didn’t need because you feared she didn’t feel the same?”

“I suppose so,” she nodded. “I thought that, maybe, if she was happy it was enough. So, I went back to college and left it all behind. I felt awful, I did, but I wanted to keep myself away for both of our sakes. If I wasn’t there, she could get on with her life and I could try and move on. I put all of my focus into studying and then into my work - I found that pushing away all of those things that hurt me would just shield me from coming to terms with things.

“So, the friendship I tried to protect was ruined because of me. Because I was scared.”

“But now? How are things with her this time?”

“I think - I know that I still adore her. And, if she’ll have me, I would want nothing more than to just let her know how I’ve felt for all my life.”

—

Before Natasha had begun to associate Christmas with the ache in her heart, the 24th of December was a treasured occasion.

The group of you had always met up, sneaking eggnog from her parent’s fridge when you were younger, sharing it around with sips from a shared glass around a makeshift fire you’d conjure up in the garden. The cup would be passed around in secrecy and clumsily hidden beneath a blanket when an adult would approach.

As you grew closer, the two of you began to uphold a tradition and for the couple of years leading up to her departure, you’d meet up before the remainder of the group arrived. She’d meet you at the cafe with two hot chocolates in hand and she’d offer you her jacket no matter what; she always did and you always declined but it made your cheeks hot to the touch. She’d always refrain from reaching out to feel the warmth beneath her palm.

You’d walk back to her house taking the long route just to savour one another's company and neither of you would think too much about the hand she’d rest on your back whenever you’d cross the road.

You’d sit beneath the decorated canopy in the middle of town, watching people enjoy the festivities, failing to hold in your amusement when people would slip on icy ground. She’d look up at the mistletoe and swear she’d kiss you beneath the winter sprig one day, that she’d use it as one of her many excuses to press her lips to yours. She would imagine that you’d tell her she didn’t need a reason to kiss you, that she could do it whenever she liked, but she’d find any moment she could to feel your lip balm-coated mouth with the tip of her tongue.

The one year you had forgotten your gloves and, for practicality of course, she linked her hand with yours for warmth and left it there until she was leading you up to her front door. You’d help her mother with preparations for the evening’s party whilst Natasha would smile at the close relationship the two of you shared. And when the rest of the invitees would trickle in, she’d revel in your laugh. The one you’d let out at something Kate or Kamala would say when recounting the goings on of their days and the giggle you’d share with Wanda whilst having hushed conversations in the corner.

…

The last Christmas Eve you’d seen Natasha until this year, was the same as always. You were planning on meeting Natasha at your usual spot, only an hour after leaving the Maximoff twins where they were.

You sat with Pietro whilst Wanda made her way back with a cup of hot tea for herself and a latte for her brother; they were meeting up with Monica and Carol before the annual party and you were waiting with them until it was time for you to go. You’d told them you had some last-minute shopping to do and they bought the excuse - you felt rather smug at your deception and were pleased to keep your tradition with Natasha a secret. It wouldn’t be the same if it turned into a group affair - you didn’t admit that you merely wanted her for yourself. Even if it was for only a couple of hours.

You missed the teasing grin on Pietro’s face when he’d spotted the mistletoe above you and only realised what he was doing when he tugged it from its place and held it above your faces.

“Ew, Pietro,” you’d laughed, shoving him away whilst he faked a warm look your way.

“There’s something I simply must say,” he joked, cupping your cheek with a soft hand. He inched closer and closer whilst you held in your laugh, acting into the joke of a scene he was creating. “I- wow, this is hard to say,” he sighed. “I just need you to know that - that I forgot to get you a gift and just added my name to Wanda’s.”

You gasped before you both laughed.

“That actually better be a joke.”

You waited for Natasha until you got a text saying she was stuck helping her mum and the rest of the evening was sullied with some kind of unspoken melancholy that you could not understand.

…

Two weeks ago, Natasha was called into her editor’s office to be given the task of creating a winter story. She listened to the requirements she was expected to reach; a heartfelt children’s book, the wonder of winter with a happy ending.

It wasn’t something she was overly familiar with anymore. The magic of the season had long left her when she left you and, though she accepted the job, she was unsure of how to complete it. Her books always held a part of her, every story she wrote had a piece of her soul bared throughout the pages.

She’d gone home and began to plan, sipping a glass of red wine whilst her laptop screen remained blank.

After a few days of sitting on the problem she’d been presented with, and a lengthy conversation with her closest friend in New York, she thought it time to visit home. After all of this time away she thought she could go back easily enough, feelings may have been dulled and the town that was the epitome of a winter wonderland would fuel her creativity.

She just didn’t expect to take one look at you and have every feeling she’d ever held for you to come flooding to the surface. It was quite a story indeed.

And, though she was apprehensive at first, she’d found that opening up the warm-hearted part of her that she had forced closed many moons ago was just the spark she needed. She’d found inspiration at home - her true home. She found it with you.

…

Your heart was beating with the buzz of nerves in your chest, stomach swarming whilst your palms grew clammy despite the biting cold that came with the slowly falling snow.

Each step up the Romanoff’s driveway drew you closer to a conversation that made your head blurred. It had taken the entire group of your friends to give you the courage to leave your apartment for this; despite the way it was your decision to confess the feelings that were eating you whole, you were the one holding yourself back.

After much convincing, you bit the bullet to finally let yourself pull your heart from your chest and hand it over. They’d all assured you they were a phone call away no matter what happens.

You almost dared to turn back as soon as your knuckles tapped against the translucent window of the front door; you could see the blurry sight of a Christmas wreath against the glass and you could hear Yelena shout that she would answer the knock.

“Oh, hi,” she smiled as soon as she saw you, taking in your nervous appearance.

“Hi, Yelena,” you returned. “Um, is Natasha here?”

“No, actually,” she answered. “She went for a walk - think she said she might be going to the bar. You might be able to catch up with her if you hurry.”

“Alright, thanks, Lena,” you smiled. “See you tomorrow,” you finished with a wave.

“See you tomorrow,” she smirked, clearly planning to go and conspire with Melina about why you might be looking for her sister.

It wasn’t a particularly long walk, and the few minutes it took only enabled you to think about what you were going to say. You had it planned as perfectly as you could get it, a curated script you hoped she’d conform with. You’d risk making a fool of yourself otherwise, treading with the possibility of letting your butterfly inducing feelings for her get the best of you.

And, when you saw the bar ahead of you it only made your heart hit against your chest even faster. You saw the back of her head through the window, hair plaited and falling against her jacket; somehow, just seeing her, made your steps grow almost up to speed with your heart.

You opened the door into the bustling building, making your way past a few people with the subtle scent of beer lingering in the air.

You saw her before she saw you. The large grin that pulled at her eyes was directed elsewhere, though, and the hug she stood up to take part in was not with you. Her body locked with another woman’s, somebody she was familiar with by the way it lingered. Her cheek was kissed and her smile never wavered and your heart that had been beating so quickly you feared it might explode was now still, sitting in your throat as you swallowed thickly.

They shared large smiles and their hands entwined atop the small wooden table.

You couldn’t see anymore. Your fists clenched at your sides and you left as quickly as you arrived, not sparing a glance backwards. If you couldn’t be with her tonight, you wanted to be alone.

#au: home for christmas #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #marvel fanfic #natasha romanoff

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delulu-with-wandanat · 7 months ago

Text

Objective: Teenage Dreams.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Tags: Pride month, bisexual Wanda, mutual pining, canon divergence, lesbian Natasha.

A/n: My gift before pride ends lol, it a little rushed but uhh... I enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it. It's kind of a crack fic honestly, just good vibe for ye gays :D (Ps. sorry if there are mistakes I kind rushed this andd it's been a while.)

Summary: It's pride month and Wanda still hasn't made her move. Being the self-proclaimed greatest ally, Y/n and two other decided to give them a push.

On lazy days like these, Wanda usually spends it by reading a book, maybe binge watching some shows. Other times she spends it with her brother, but ever since joining the Avengers, Pietro has made it his ultimate goal to have Steve Roger's physique. He trained almost day and night, honestly Wanda could enter the gym at 9 in the morning finding her brother in the middle of a workout, and by the time she was finished he was still there.

Often time he was also with her best friend, who is now his gym buddy, Y/n Romanoff. Who was just as much of a gym rat as Pietro. Honestly, the amount of time they stare at themselves in the mirror was concerning. She's almost sure she had passed a video on social media featuring them titled; 'How to train like an Avenger'

So nowadays she spends her free time alone, even though she wishes she could spend it with a certain beautiful redhead-

Although it wasn't all that bad. Wanda had found a new fixation to spend her time on. Which was Fanfictions.

Now how does one stumbles upon this... wonderful world you might ask? Well for Wanda it started when she was watching a new TV Show she had recently discovered called, The 100. It was fun until they killed off one of her favorite character, Lexa. Wanda naturally dropped the show in an instant. During one of her rants to one of the new recruits, Kate Bishop then sent her a link leading to a website followed a text that read; "The showrunners might break your heart, but fanfiction authors will be there to pick up the pieces."

And Wanda... Fell down the rabbit hole from there.

At first all she searched was merely about wlw couples on her favorite movies and shows, like that one Supergirl TV show she had been recently watching. Or that one cute show called 'Everything Sucks' that got canceled after one season. Basically any wlw couples she started to like, but couldn't be explored due to the showrunners being a pus-

It didn't matter, she founded the holy-site that held all the stories in the world. Then, when she found nothing else to read there, it lead her journey to... a site that shares the same name as drinking bottle; Tumblr. Minus the 'e'.

The site gave her access to a whole new world and whole lot more stories. It was on this website that she found out there was a whole fandom for the Avengers, and many stories was written about them in different scenarios. Sometimes it was cute, other times it was... questionable-

You can't really blame her, can't you? Her name and the word mommy was basically inseparable on this site.

This was where she learned that people have also been 'shipping' one Avenger and the other. Curiosity got the better of the witch when she started to search herself... and a certain former Russian spy. She was surprised to see how many stories were written about them here. Wanda... may have gotten a little out of hand.

This was her guilty pleasure. Reading stories about her crush and herself in a scenario instead of actually trying to talk to her. Can you blame her though? She was what the internet describes as a 'Loser Lesbian'.

The little voice in her head prefers the word 'Useless Lesbian', which wasn't even accurate as she mostly resonates more with Bisexuality-

"Happy gay month, cus you know you bi and stuff!" Ah there it is, the 'little voice' burst through her door unannounced, causing Wanda to yelp and quickly shut her laptop close to hide her 'shameful' activity.

Wanda glared at the young Romanoff who was carrying 3 different items in his hand and approaching her on the bed. "What the fuck is wrong with-"

"Here, I got you a gay balloon cus it got all the color because it's GAY."

"Y/n-" She reluctantly takes the balloon.

"And I gotchu a vinyl album with that Sweater Weather song cus you Bi." He handed her the vinyl, how thoughtful.

"Ok-"

Lastly, "And I baked you a cake that says, 'BeeEE who yoOOUUu aaRREEE, for YooUURE PRiiiDEEEEeeeEE'" He sang the word off tune.

"Ok- Thank you... Uhm-" She grabs all the items and looks at them with confusion. "This is..." Wanda furrowed her eyes at her friend. "Why- Why did you do this, why are you doing this??"

"You know... Cus you're Bi!"

"I'm well aware of that fact."

"Well my dearest Wanda, in this holy month of June I have a very important mission to accomplish." The young Romanoff suddenly jumps on her bed and dramatically opens his arms as if he was some kind of showman. "I'm gonna get you a woman!"

The youngest Maximoff cringes her face and with a flick of her wrist she knock the soldier off her bed, earning a high pitch scream from him. "First of all, you can't get a woman for yourself how do you expect to get me a girlfriend."

"I have plenty of girls!" He said rather defensively as he sat up on the floor.

"And second, why is this so important to you?"

"What you don't want a girlfriend?"

"I still like guys you know."

He rolled his eyes, "I know that, but you always told me you wanted to try dating girls."

"Not just girls... a girl-" She mumbles.

"What was that?" The man raised a teasing eyebrow.

"Nothing! Now shut up, you haven't answered my question." Wanda said while huffing and crossing her arms.

"Because my dearest friend being Bisexual is one thing, but being bi yourself is just sad-" That statement earned him a rightful pillow thrown at him at full speed. Which he thankfully manages to deflect this time with his reflex.

Wanda then groans and plops on her bed. "You're not going to stop, are you?"

"Nope." Y/n even popped the 'p' to emphasize his point. With a roll of her eyes, Wanda agrees with an exaggerated fine and he joined her on the bed with a grin. "Now, first thing on the list is we need to get you some new clothes."

Wanda hastily sat up looked down at her current outfit and glanced at the mirror in her room. She gave him a stinky eye. "What's wrong with my clothes??" This rude bitch-

"Nothing..." Y/n said rather sassily, "I just... think it might need a little spice is all." Without asking for her permission, Y/n grabs her laptop out of her reach and opens it. "I was thinking we could- WHOAAA..."

"What's- NO!" Her eyes widens in panic has her dirty little secret have been exposed. The witch lunges herself to him only for the young super soldier to hold out a hand to keep her at a distance while staring bewildered at the screen before him. "GIVE IT BACK."

"OH MY GOD???? YOu into this shit?!!" Oh the young Romanoff was having the time of his life. He grinned as he looked at what the story was about, "Natasha Romanoff x Reader? Ohhh ho HO, you really llike her huh-?"

"Y/n I swear to god, GIVE IT BACK." She yelled, Wanda was fucking furious. She already had an annoying brother to deal with, what was she thinking adding Y/n into the mix.

"I want to see your blog." It was like she was seeing red, blood thumping in her brain.

Wanda screeched like a maniac, suddenly overpowering the super soldier. She was practically sitting on top of him wrestling with the now closed laptop, Y/n hugged the laptop close. "Y/N I WILL KILL YOU!"

"I JUST WANT TO SEE!"

"NEVER!" Their screaming was probably heard all over the compound as they wrestle for Wanda's laptop. However, a stern voice stopped their childish fight.

"Enough, both of you!" The two whipped their head to the door to see Natasha crossing her arms and looking at them expectantly. The two scurry off of each other and Wanda made a final yank on her laptop out of his reach. The two stood up like guilty children caught in a fight.

"He took my laptop without permission." Wanda spoke up before Y/n could open his mouth. The look of betrayal on his face brings pleasure to Wanda as Natasha's anger was now directed to him.

"You-"

"Y/n, you know better than to take other people's personal things." Natasha glared at her little brother.

"You're just going to believe her right out of the gate?!" He retorted.

"It's the truth!" Wanda said while hugging her laptop tightly.

"You little snitch-" The super soldier turned to face her challengingly. Before the two were about to enter yet another screaming match, Natasha's stern voice puts them in their place once again.

"You two are acting like children. I have enough of this, Y/n if you don't stop this childish nonsense I'll have you grounded from any missions."

"You can't do that?!" His eyes practically bulge out of it's eye socket.

"I can, and I will." Natasha's death stare easily intimidates him as he quickly mumbles an apology to Wanda. The spy's gaze turned to the witch with soft and caring look, unlike the one she gave to her sibling. "Wanda, if he gives you anymore trouble you let me know ok?"

"Thank you, Natasha." Wanda said shyly, a faint blush visible on her cheek. The redhead smiled at her before giving one last glare to Y/n and left to god-knows-where.

It was so painfully obvious that the two liked each other. Except the only one that fail to realize that is themselves. Operation Scarlet Widow was going to be a lot more difficult than he anticipated, Y/n might need a little backup.

"I seriously don't get why you can't just ask her out instead of reading a bunch of stories-"

This annoying fuck- "DON'T talk to me about that!" She suddenly uses her powers to float him out of her room. "I don't wanna hear about it-" She practically throws him out, Y/n lies on the floor while looking at his friend bewildered. Wanda gave one last glare and shuts the door on his face.

"But-"

"And stay out!" Her voice yelled from inside the room.

Being the annoying friend that he is, he got onto his feet and proceeds to bug the shit out of the witch. Y/n started with those gentle knocks on the door. "Honeyyy-" He teased her.

"Ohmyfuckinggod. Don't call me that!" Wanda yells again. Y/n snickers at her response.

"Wanda, come on..." He knocks again, hearing no response the soldier knocks on the door harder. "You can't hide forever, come out!"

"Jokes on you, I already am!"

"Not what I meant, but ok!" He snickers again, clearly Wanda would not be opening the door anytime soon. He makes his way to the gym to recruit some people who shall help him in this mission.

------

Upon entering the training grounds, Y/n found Yelena and Pietro in the middle of a sparring session. Only these two would spend their Sundays training.

"Dearest Brother, nice of you to join us." Of course Yelena would know it was him, despite having her back facing Y/n.

"Let me know when you want to spar with someone who can actually throw a punch." The soldier said with a smirk.

"Fuck you, Romanoff!" The silver-haired speedster gave him the finger before focusing back on his opponent. "You're the one who's lacking, I thought super soldiers could do this all day?"

Y/n scoffed, "Oh please, I can take you down without breaking a sweat. You rely mostly on your powers."

"Barf, are you going to keep bothering us or join us?" Yelena said with a roll of her eyes, using the distraction Pietro surges forward in an attempt to tackle Yelena. Although she may not have powers, her skills were beyond his years. Using the techniques taught by none other than her own sister, Yelena manages to take down the speedster with ease.

"Hah!" She snorted seeing Pietro with his face on the ground and tapping the floor to announce his defeat. Yelena gets off of him with a smirk on her face.

"Oh come on! If this was a real fight you know you wouldn't stand a chance." The speedster grumbles.

"I'm not denying that, but take that power away and you're just another damsel in distress."

Pietro narrowed his eyes. In the midst of her overconfidence, he uses his powers to knock Yelena on the feet, causing her to fall backwards onto her ass. Normally, her instinct would've kicked in and she would prepare for the fall, but this time Pietro stands in triumph while crossing his arms with a smirk on his face.

"Bitch." Yelena mumbles in Russian before dusting herself off.

"Now if you're both finished, I would like to make an offering." Y/n said while putting his fingers together like some menace business man with bad intention.

"You want to steal Tony's car and do a high speed race on the highway? I call dibs on the Mclaren." Yelena spoke up.

"So long as I get the Ferrari-" Pietro chimes in.

"No, but we'll get back into that because I always wanted to try his Audi. What I have is, how would you feel on playing cupid for our dearest sisters?" Yelena only raises an eyebrow while Pietro squints his eyes.

"I am getting sick of seeing them practically eye-fucking each other at the gym." Yelena started.

"Hey, that's my little sister." Pietro said while puffing his chest out playing the overprotective big brother role.

Yelena rolled her eyes, "She's 27 dipshit, and you're only 12 minutes older."

"Still my little sister..."

"Look we can all agree that these two needs to sort out their feelings, and since the two are completely useless as one is an idiot who thinks staring will magically get her a date. And the other has deep traumatic issues where she struggles to have proper relationship due to her upbringing. I'd say, maybe they need a little third party help?" Y/n opens his arms as if to wait if any of the two objects.

"And how do you plan on pulling this off?" Yelena asked.

"I was hoping you might help me figure that out." Y/n threw back the question. Yelena rolled her eyes.

"So you came to us for help empty handed?"

"Well I would argue dedication and sheer will counts for something." Y/n puffed out his chest, he clearly has nothing.

"We don't even know if Natasha likes Wanda back." Pietro chimes in, which earns him a raised eyebrow from the two Russians.

"It's hard to miss."

"Yeah, I can see the oblivious genes runs in the Maximoff's."

Maybe it was less obvious to someone who was not close to Natasha, she was a trained spy overall. And these two were practically raised to be more observant than others. Or that could just be the oblivious Maximoff genes.

"All I know is, Wanda has had this crush ever since she stole Natasha's jacket."

Y/n furrowed his eyebrows at Pietro. "Wasn't that like... a year ago with Ultron?" Yelena barks out a laugh, "You mean to tell me she's been pinning on Natasha for a year??"

Pietro shrugs his shoulders and smirked, "Wanda has bigger pool, but I'm the one getting all the girls."

"Barf-" Yelena said while fake gagging, earning a jab on the rib by Pietro. "If we want a shot for our dearest love birds we have to be quick, cause I'm noticing a certain android having his eyes on Wanda."

"Who, the toaster?" Pietro said while cringing his face.

"Ok... I can see you don't seem so fond of the guy, and Vision's not so bad y'know-" Y/n said, it's not that he was close with Vision. But he didn't understand why Pietro would look so utterly disgusted.

"No, he's not bad. But if this works out, you and I would be brothers for real, y'know?"

Damn... This was true brotherhood. "Bro..."

"Bro..."

The two hugged like it was something out of a bromance movie. Yelena could only watch with her arms crossed, wondering what the fuck was going on. However, while the two gym rats were having their moment, a plan formed in her mind.

-------

The trio sprang into action in an instant, ordering a bunch of pizzas, heading to the city to grab some supplies, thankfully alcohols were already taken cared of.

"Ok! Now we just need everybody here." Y/n said with a satisfied grin whilst taking a shot to give himself a head start. Yelena mimicked his movement and so did Pietro.

"FRIDAY, assemble the team to the common room." The AI gave Pietro the acknowledgement, soon enough the team entered the common room with a confused look.

"What's going on?" Steve was first to spoke up as he looked around the decorated room with food and beverages.

Wanda glances to a certain redhead a few meters away from her, Natasha initially had a bored look on her face, arms crossed, and was probably mentally preparing herself to whatever the hell her siblings had in mind. And it was as if the spy felt a pair of eyes on her she looked to the side and locked eyes with Wanda, instantly, the corner of Natasha's mouth pulled into a tiny smile and a small shrug.

Wanda blushed instantly and turned her gaze to the floor, tucking a hair behind her ear. The trio, saw this and glances at one another.

"Well dearest teammates." Y/n started, taking a microphone and speaking to it as if he was an mc. "Tonight will be the night-"

"What's with the mic, Y/n?" Natasha asked with a roll of her eyes.

"I was getting there," He responded while putting his hand up, "Tonight Is the night we let loose!" He whooped, yet the only one cheered with him was Pietro.

"Seriously?" Natasha asked with a raised eyebrow.

Y/n scoffed at his teammates, looking at all the low faces and annoyed faces. "Sam! Come on, you're always game." He asked, needing ATLEAST someone to be in it.

Sam sighed, "Man, I would but honestly I was looking forward to sleep early tonight." Y/n looked at him as if his heart had been stabbed.

"Wanda??" He asked his best friend, and Wanda groaned at him. Oh this was a rough start.

"Honestly, I'm in the mood for some me time and not... whatever this is." She replied indicating to the alcohol bottles on the table.

"Sorry kid, looks like everyone is super tired." Steve added with a pity look, "Maybe next time plan things out."

"But that's boring!" Pietro exclaimed, and speeds to every single one handing out a shot glass filled with vodka.

"It's not just any normal drinking night, there's singing involved." Yelena finally chimed in while dunking another shot.

"Yelena, you can't possibly be part of this." Natasha asked her sister, and Yelena shrugged in respond.

"Any reason to grab Tony's alcohol is as good as any." The blonde replied.

Everyone glanced at one another, shot glass in hand, contemplating their decision. "Think of it like a team bonding." Y/n talked again, he cocked his head at Yelena who turns on a song and a familiar tune started playing, a song that would get anyone from any generation dancing (excluding Steve, perhaps). Dancing Queen by Abba.

Y/n had a goofy grin on his face, dancing into the tune, Pietro followed through while Yelena occasionally bopped her head. Sam was the first to grow a grin on his face. Steve, Natasha and Wanda looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "It's Abba!" The falcon said as a matter of factly, he then downed in shot.

"That's the spirit!" Y/n said excited as Sam danced to his direction.

Hesitantly, cap started to walk forward earning a disbelief gasp from Natasha. "Rogers, really...?"

"I mean, I really did enjoyed Mama Mia...." The American boy said with a sheepish smile.

As soon as the lyric's intro came in, Y/n puts an arm around Steve with a microphone in hand. "You can dance!"

"You can jive!" Sam pulled the microphone to himself.

"Having the time of your life!" Those who were already in the circle sang simultaneously, Natasha rolled her eyes but if you squint you could see a tiny smile there. Meanwhile Wanda shifted closer to Natasha watching the group in amusement.

"See that girl!" Y/n pointed at the two, and the other followed. "Watch that scene, digging the dancing queen." He sang, "Come on dancing queens get in here!"

Natasha shook her head fondly, holding back a smile.

"Wanda, Wanda, I know you want to join us girrlll..." Y/n said playfully to his best friend, the boys and Yelena were beckoning her to join. Natasha looked to her side and true enough, Wanda was biting her lips, contemplating whether or not she should join. "You like this song don't lie! Natasha, help me out." Wanda did in fact like this song.

The way her body swayed subtly to the rhythm, her eyes glinting with anticipation, the only thing that's holding Wanda back was herself. Fuck it, Natasha thought to herself. She then held Wanda's arms and dragged her into the group who cheered when they joined. "Wha- Nat, no I-"

"Come on, little witch." Natasha said, turning to face Wanda and raised her shot glass. "Loosen up a bit."

God, Wanda couldn't decline, especially when her crushed smirked like that. They clinked their shot glass and downed their drinks.

------

As the clock got closer to midnight, the more they drank, and the more they drank, the more chaotic it gets. The song they choose ranges to many different genres, in the beginning Pietro and Y/n mostly sang something boyish, like rap or rock. Then as the two gets progressively drunker they sang something what would be describe as 'Girly Pop'.

Steve sang some old 40s song, which was refreshing especially after hearing Y/n's off tune singing voice. Everybody except Natasha was surprised to hear Yelena singing American Pie wholeheartedly, Natasha even sat next to her and sang it with her briefly.

Although the highlight of the night was probably the time Yelena, Pietro and Y/n sang and dance to the song 'Wannabe' by Spice Girls. Natasha had to hid her face with her hand while Sam was laughing his ass off and leaning to Steve for support. Wanda was like a giggling maniac the whole time as she was secretly recording it for some black mailing material on her twin.

Mid-song, Yelena pulled her brother subtly and pushing a very drunk Pietro forward. "Take it for a spin, Maximoff!"

"So, here's a story from a to z-!" Pietro started rapping his part drunkenly.

"She's not drunk enough." Yelena said to Y/n who was trying to stable himself.

"Yep, the alcohol hasn't hit her yet, and Pietro's not going to be much help-" Y/n covered his mouth suddenly as he felt a vomit, he then answered after seeing Yelena's raised eyebrow. "Sorry- Don't worry I got this, hold a bottle."

"Slam your body down and wind it all around!" Pietro continued singing with Yelena twirling his ass in what this generation would describe as 'slay' manner, Y/n drunkenly sauntered over to Wanda who panicked when he started pulling her to the make shift stage.

"No- No, let me go, Y/n!" Wanda protested.

"Just take a shot and come with!" Y/n practically yanked her and they stumbled over to the middle of the living room. "Cheers!" He said while knocking his glass with hers and Wanda finally relents and knocked back her shot.

"-make it last forever, friendship never ends!" Y/n sang while putting an arm around his best friend, Wanda cringes at the bitter taste of the alcohol, she had a few drinks in already but she was never really fond at the taste of vodka.

"Wanda!" Yelena said, suddenly putting an arm around the her as well. "Oh, honey, you emptied your glass already."

"N-no, Yelena, I just dra-"

"Don't you worry, I got you." Yelena said while pouring her another shot, Wanda's eyes widens. She glances to the side and locked eyes with Natasha who raised a teasing eyebrow at her. "Yes, now we cling!" The blonde haired woman said while raising her glass.

Reluctantly, Wanda clinked their glass awkwardly and took a deep breath before taking another shot. She doesn't know how many shots she have taken from that moment, all she knew was that she felt like dancing.

Natasha watched as Wanda's dance move progressively become more fluid and at ease in contrast to her usual shy self. The spy smiled to herself, dance with her. Natasha shook her head at the impulsive thoughts. At some point during the song 'Teenage Dreams' by Katy Perry, Wanda was handed a mic by Yelena. Thankfully this time Wanda was drunk enough not to refuse, and instead grinned like a goof.

When Wanda sang the second verse, Natasha almost lost her breath because she sounded so... beautiful.

"We drove to Cali and got drunk on the beach. Got a motel and built a fort out of sheets."

Wanda sang with her eyes closed, smile on her face, swaying her body to the rhythm. "I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece, I'm complete." The witch opened her beautiful green eyes just to have a similar looking ones staring right back at her.

Wanda giddily approached Natasha and extend her hand, "Wanda-"

"Come onn, Tasha!" Wanda pleaded. Tasha, well that's new-

Natasha hesitantly looked around, the trio were holding onto each other while slurring to the song, Sam had passed out, and Steve... Well, he gave Natasha a knowing look before helping Sam up to his feet and gave Natasha a look that says 'Don't mess this up, Romanoff.' And walking off with a drunken Sam.

"We can dance, until we die. You and I..." Wanda sang waiting for Natasha to finally grab her hand, finally the spy relents and took the witch's offering hand. "-we'll be young forever!"

Wanda practically yanks Natasha into the middle of the living room.

"You make me feel like I'm livin' a teenage dream. The way you turn me on, I can't sleep. Let's run away and don't ever look back, don't ever look back!"

The younger woman puts a hand on Natasha's shoulder, swaying her hips while singing the lyrics. Natasha was unsure if she should put her hand on Wanda, keep it to the side, on Wanda's waist perhaps?

"My heart stops." The witch suddenly tilt Natasha's chin so their eyes meet. "When you look at me," Natasha's breath hitched in her throat, "just one touch...." And the rest of the lyrics seems to died on Natasha's ears as all she could see was a drunken state Wanda making her confession crystal clear.

Wanda turned and moved her body sensually against Natasha, without hesitation, the older woman puts a firm hand on Wanda's hips to guide her moves. Wanda shivered when she felt Natasha's hot breath on her ear. "Imma get your heart racing in my skin-tight jeans." She grabs Natasha's hand and trail it up her body, a silent plea to the older woman to touch her. "Be your teenage dream tonight..."

Fuck... if Natasha had no self-restraint, she would've taken Wanda here and there. "Let you put your hands on me in my skin-tight jeans" Wanda turns around to face Natasha again and this time the younger one guided Natasha's hand to rest on her thighs. "Be your teenage dream tonight...."

The song reached it's mini pause. Wanda, almost in desperation and system full of alcohol wrapped her arms around Natasha and leaned in til their nose was touching. "I want to kiss you so bad..." She whispered.

"I-" The redhead was at lost for words, her eyes looking deep into those beautiful green eyes, searching for any signs of hesitation. Blown pupils were looking right back at her, slowly it travels down to Natasha's lips. Fuck this.

As soon as the song started again, Natasha gently cup Wanda's face with one hand and pulled her into a soft kiss. Oh Wanda's heart could explode right about now, for a second her mind became stone-cold sober so it could remember this moment properly. Wanda drops the microphone she was holding and puts her hand on the older woman's cheeks, using her thumb to caress her soft delicate skin.

"You make me, Feel like I'm livin' a teenage dream The way you turn me on, I can't sleep Let's run away and don't ever look back, don't ever look back."

The two women were now lost in their own world, they failed to notice the cheers from their own respective (very drunk atm) siblings. Wanda was taller than Natasha, but she went on her tippy toes and wrapped her slender arms around the spy. Natasha craned her neck a little, smiling into the kiss, her arms securely on (her) the little witch's waist.

"My heart stops, when you look at me. Just one touch, now baby I believe this is real. So take a chance and don't ever look back."

Wanda felt like she was on cloud nine, feeling Natasha's soft lips on hers. Oh those sweet plump lips she's been day dreaming about for months, honestly, she felt like the main character in a movie. A teenager if you will in a coming off age movie, is this what Simon felt like from Love, Simon? The song was quite spot on, as Natasha made her feel like a teenager once again, or at least what she assumes a teenager would feel. She never really got to properly enjoyed her teenage years, but here she is. With the woman of her dreams.

"We're siblings for real!" They finally broke the kiss after hearing a drunken Y/n made the statement, arms on both Yelena and Pietro who were just as equally drunk as him. Pietro mimicked his sentence, and Yelena only nodded her head while occasionally raising her glass. Natasha and Wanda shared a look as they held each other, the spy snorted while her counterpart giggled at the scene.

It seems like the trio had put Katy Perry's song on shuffle, because the beat to 'Last Friday Night' started playing.

They started chanting "We did it!" matching their words to the tune of the song, the two couple shared a look.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" Natasha asked, a small smile on her face.

"Yes, please." Wanda replied shyly before being dragged out of the living room by Natasha.

-------

The witch woke up groggily on her bed, her eyes needed time to adjust to the light that were peaking into her room. She groaned and fell back onto the bed with a thud, shielding herself from the light like a vampire allergic to it. "Ugh... what did Yelena put in my drinks." She grumbles.

All of the sudden everything came rushing back into her memory like a tidal wave. I kissed Natasha...

She hastily sat on her bed and looked around. She remembered they kissed, but... how did they end up here. Wanda remembered Natasha asking her to move out of the living room, oh my god did we slept together? The witch's face started to match her battle suit as she thought of the possibility, wish I could've remembered.

Her throat felt dry so she decided to grab herself some drinks in the kitchen. And to her surprise, Natasha was already there. Humming to herself and cooking breakfast, Wanda let in a sharp breath at the sight. Of course, being the trained spy that she is, Natasha greeted Wanda without having to turn around.

"Good morning, Wanda. Slept well?" Natasha asked kindly.

"I don't know how you do that." Wanda muttered.

The spy chuckles to herself, "What I was trained for, little witch. I already put a glass of water for you by the table. Bacon and eggs alright?"

Wanda glanced at the table and surely enough Natasha already prepped a big jug of water and a glass for her. "Oh thank you, you're a godsent..." The younger woman took a seat and dawned her water, and then also her second glass of water.

Natasha walked by her and set a plate for both herself and Wanda. "What a night was it?" She said with a hint of tease.

The brunette only nodded her head while drinking her water like it was the last one on earth. She dropped her glass with a sigh of relief and glances at Natasha, a faint blush appeared on her cheek almost immediately. Wanda cleared her throat before answering, "It was, thank you for breakfast."

"You're welcome." She replied simply, her body still angled a little to the side, one arm propped on the head of the chair whilst staring intently at Wanda.

"Natasha, I..." Wanda started, oh god suddenly her throat feels dry again. The spy gave a small nod, urging her to continue. The younger woman started fidgeting with her finger. "I don't regret it," Wanda finally looks at her. "Kissing you, all of it, I don't regret any of it."

A smile tugged the corner of Natasha's lips, but before she could answer, Wanda started rambling on.

"B-but it's ok if you don't feel the same. Or that it was just a heat in the moment kind of thing."

"Wanda, relax." The older woman put a gentle hand on Wanda, she inhaled sharply at Natasha's action. "Listen... I'm no better at this. However, if your interested, I would like to take you out on a date." Natasha smiled at her, oh god, Wanda's heart was beating a mile minute. Wait, wait, she said date?

"I- Yes, I would love that." Wanda averted her gaze, the intensity of Natasha's green eyes was too much. The sheer intensity of the spy's gaze could turn her into a puddle of mess.

"Good, I've been dying to try this restaurant." Natasha said while turning her body now to face her breakfast, she took one bite of the bacon before continuing. "I hope Southeast Asian cuisine isn't too spicy for you." The spy said teasingly.

"Oh please, you underestimate me." Wanda responded with a slight bump of their shoulders, yet a question still lingers on her mind. "Hey uh... Sorry, I was just wondering. Did we uh... do anything?"

"What do you mean? We kissed." Natasha answered cluelessly.

"Yeah, but I remember you took me to my room. I couldn't remember anything from there, so... I was just wondering if we did anything." Wanda asked, her voice progressively gets more timid the more she explains.

"Hmmmm, like what? Watching a movie?" The spy said while looking up to the ceiling as if deep in thoughts, small smirk on her face.

"Tasha, stop messing around." Wanda said with a playful eyeroll.

"Tasha, huh? That's new." She continued to teased her little witch. Wanda playfully pouted her lips, of course Natasha couldn't help but give in to that. "Don't worry, little witch, nothing happened. I took you to your room, we made out for a little bit and before you finally fell a sleep in my arms. It was a adorable." Natasha added the last bit with a shrug and a smirk.

Wanda's face got increasingly red, "Ugh..." She groaned at hid her face in her hand. "I'm sorry."

"Don't hide that pretty face, as I said, it was adorable." Natasha pried away Wanda's hand, the witch relents and was greeting with a fond smile from Natasha. One she rarely saw, god she's so fucking beautiful.

And unfortunately for them, it had to be ruined by the trio... Again.

"Ughh.... my head-" Y/n groaned.

"I feel like skipping gym today." Pietro chimed in.

"Keep up." Yelena responded with a bored tone. She was sweating, probably went on a run.

Wanda and Natasha mentally cursed at themselves and returned to their own respective breakfast. The trio rummages through the kitchen, finding cereals and bowls, Yelena opted for an apple instead. They sat down across Natasha and Wanda, Y/n was first to point out the obvious of course.

"So...?" He asked them excitedly.

"So what?" Natasha raised an eyebrow at him.

Only for him to raised his eyebrow right back, "Did you guys shag?" Yelena piped in, Pietro groaned.

"No, don't answer that-" The older Maximoff covered his ears while Wanda shrunk in her seat.

"I'll take that as a yes!" Y/n yelled excitedly.

"First of all, we didn't." Natasha said firmly, "And second, I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Oh, but it is." The redhead narrowed her eyes at him, but it was too early to deal with her brother's antics.

"Look whatever you saw, zip it." Natasha stated, "I personally want to keep this under wrap, if this goes out to the press they're going to have a lot of questions and I don't want to deal with that."

"I'll second that." Wanda muttered, casting Natasha a grateful look to which the older woman smiled in response.

Y/n scoffed, "Whatever, I'm great at keeping secrets. Beside, I'm just glad the whole sexual tension can now be resolved-" He shuts up immediately upon seeing Natasha's glare.

After a few minutes of silence and eating their breakfast, Y/n's phone notification started going off like crazy. "Oh, Piet I think one of our videos got viral."

"Where let me see." Pietro leaned over to take a look, and upon opening the app, their eyes quickly widens. "Why would you upload that?!"

"I didn't! I must've- Fuck..." Y/n panicked, and by that, really panicked.

"What's going on?" Natasha asked.

"Nothing!" The two men said simultaneously, fuck... if Natasha finds out they're screwed. However, before they could delete the evidence, Natasha snatched the phone from her brother's hand. Wanda leaned closer to take a look and gasped. Yelena only snorted and excuse herself as she had an idea where this was going.

It was a footage of them, kissing, wrap up in each other's arms, lip tight in a passionate lock. Fuck, Katy Perry was right, Pictures of last night ended up online and they were screwed. "Y/n..." Natasha said warningly.

Without a second thought Y/n dashed away from the table with Pietro who zooms past him with his superspeed.

"I'll fucking kill you both!" Was Natasha's last word before hunting them down one by one.

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