#and so this attack wasn’t a sudden one it was weeks in the making and i just. i knew. and i couldn’t stop it

[teiasviago]

trying not to anxietypost rn

[newtkive]

practice - carmen berzatto

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader, mentioned platonic marcus x reader

summary: The sudden changes at your work prove to be a lot to keep up with, but Carmy notices your efforts where you think he’s just a tough boss. He proves to be more than that when he finds you pulling an all-nighter at the restaurant.

wordcount: 3.8k

warnings: none really, anxious reader, ooc!carmen (he would never let mistakes fly like this lmao), kinda fluff at the end

a/n: this is basically how i would react working there bc i almost have an anxiety attack every ep watching carmy yell at everyone. sorry for any typos!

The fast moving pace that Carmen Berzatto brought to The Beef was something extraordinary. The skill of his professional chef background was carried over into the small hole in the wall that otherwise would have never changed if it wasn’t for him.

His drive was contagious, even infecting the staff you knew like the back of your hand. You never would have thought your coworkers, ever comfortable with a stagnant pace, would become accustomed to such change around their second home.

It was great to see your favorite people quickly see their own potential thanks to Carmy’s vision. The only problem was you.

You were falling behind, and quickly.

You tried to convince yourself you could keep up as things changed. But your mind was faster than your barely skilled hands and you were terrible at cutting ingredients evenly during a rush and you always somehow got sliced or burnt and your eyes always stung from the onions you were stuck prepping because that was the one job you couldn’t fuck up but hated— to put it simply, you sucked.

The faces of your coworkers reflected what you feared every time you turned around to take a breath, heels of your hands rubbing tears from your eyes as Carmy screamed profanities at the crew. Tina’s eyes would linger on you, brows raised and silently asking if you were okay. You would nod and blink the tears away before jumping back in. By the end of every shift Ebraheim would pat you on the back before leaving, and Sydney would send you a small, sympathetic smile and wave while you tied your shoes on the bench near the locker.

Each time you could see the sympathy in their eyes and it made you hate yourself even more.

You were used to sandwiches; assembling simple ingredients between a hoagie bun on a slow Sunday surrounded by the people you called family. Cracking jokes here and there, no pressure to make things completely perfect, which ended up making things perfect. So much so that regulars even seemed disappointed to see you up at the register some days instead of in the kitchen assembling their lunch.

Carmy wasn’t blind, he could see exactly what was going on, which was why he didn’t pick on you as much as he did when he first arrived.

The first couples of weeks that Carmy was there he noticed the difference in your station compared to everyone else’s. Organized, cohesive, clean—save for the multiple drinks you always had. You worked at your own pace, not slow but definitely not up to par with Carmen’s standards. You made it work though, cutting ingredients almost perfectly and whipping up sandwiches and other specialties not a second too late.

The change happened when Carmy upped the stakes and encouraged—or yelled at—everyone to be as quick as they possibly could. His yelling was off putting, and you didn’t respond well to much other than positive reinforcement.

The chef didn’t notice until the uneven bread and too-thin tomato slices lead back to you. He was quick, marching over to you with a purpose; if it was a cartoon, his hair would be alight with fire. “Chef!” His voice was hard and urgent, because he didn’t have time to deal with this.

As he approached, he noticed your hands shaking as you held the dull shitty knife, head whipping up and cheeks red, all but heaving from the pressure. So much pressure.

“Yes Chef?” You asked attentively, waiting for him to explode.

Carmen had all intentions to do just that, tear you a new one, tell you that you’ve been here long enough to know how to cut a fuckin’ tomato the right way but he paused. The look in your eye was wild and scared. His face fell, obvious turmoil behind his blue eyes causing a change in his decision. You waited with bated breath, but what you were expecting never came.

Instead, Carmen did his best to be calm and set his hand on the counter, leaning a bit. “I want you to show me how to slice that tomato.” He said.

“What?” You were confused and it was clearly written on your face. So were your nosy coworkers who exchanged looks and shrugged, expecting the young man to wail on you with his words.

Looking over your shoulder at the others, you tried to exchange weary looks with anyone but Carmy pulled you back in with his words. “Don’t worry about their shit. C’mon, show me.” He said again, motioning to the tomato sitting on the cutting board, looking at you expectantly.

After a beat of weariness you did what he asked. With an exhale your knife pierced the red skin and cut it, your wrist dragging it back and forth to cut all the way through. You gave a few more slices, doing your best to ignore his scrutinizing gaze.

Reviewing your slices, you mentally pat yourself on the back at the sight of them perfectly even and a fairly thin. You turned to look at Carmy, and he seemed to have an epiphany as he stood there holding his chin. Eyes flickering up to you, he nodded. “You know what that showed me?” He asked, and before you could answer he continued. “You’re competent, you did that shit with a dull knife. Don’t cut ‘em too thick or too thin, you have no excuses.”

He should feel ridiculous, like he was coaching a baby how to do the easiest job in the world, but for some reason Carmen was able to swallow his irritation and try to guide you.

You nodded, back straightening and hands sweaty. “Yes, Chef.”

Carmy was about to walk off but stopped himself, turning back around, eyes boring into yours as he grew more serious. “You hear me yelling, you listen, but I need you to focus, Chef. You can do this shit, I’ve seen you pull through before. Don’t let my mouth get to your fuckin’ head.” He said low enough just for the both of you to hear.

He was close, blue eyes staring right at you, the smell of the kitchen clinging onto his apron. It should’ve been intimidating, and it was a little, but you knew this was his version of offering comfort and maybe even some sort of apology.

“Heard, Chef.” You said just as quietly back.

There was a second of him staring, before he simply walked away without another word, leaving you to your own devices. Whatever he said seemed to put some perspective into your work, because you didn’t have anys setbacks for the rest of the day.

On the way home, sitting on the train with headphones in your ears and a jacket wrapping you up tight, Carmy’s words swirled in your head. You knew you could do this, and you could somewhat see in Carmy’s eyes that he had faith in you too. It was just a new world you were all suddenly thrown into and it was hard finding your place. On days where you felt like a baby fawn standing on shaky legs, wobbling and failing to find your footing, you had to keep going.

A single word rang in your mind.

Practice.

Your apartment was pretty small and shared with a roommate, so you lacked the accommodations and tools to really do all you wanted. Aside from that, you didn’t want to be the rude roomie who clashed pans in the kitchen all night long. So, as you made your way off the train you didn’t leave the station. Instead, you waited for the next ride to the city and headed straight for The Beef.

The sun set as you approached the back door, humming a tune as you pulled out a spare key—one that definitley would be confiscated once Carmy found out about it, probably clambering about it not being safe in the foreseeable future—from under the fuse box outside and unlocked the door.

You entered the kitchen, brows immediately raising as you saw all of the kitchen lights on. Slowly moving forward, a sense of anxiety grew as you knew no one would usually be here except for Carmy, and you really did not want to get a talking to from him right now.

Turning the corner, you sighed in relief when you saw the familiar stature that belong to Marcus. He had his phone out, recipe pulled up in front of him and a song playing softly from the speakers that he sang along to. You chuckled softly, alerting him of your presence. Head snapping up at the sound, he almost looked like a deer in the headlights as he met your eyes.

Similarly to you, he let out a relieved sigh and sent you a smile. “Scared me, Y/N.” He laughed softly, hands whisking again.

“Sorry.” You apologized, tugging your coat off. “What’re you doing here, man?” You asked as you headed over to the lockers and shoved your stuff away.

Marcus shrugged. “Could ask you the same thing.”

“Practice.” You said simply, shrugging and tying your apron around your waist. Approaching the kitchen, you started gathering a few clean pots to start your work.

Humming and nodding, Marcus gave you a knowing grin. “Same here.” There was a beat of comfortable silence as you gathered a knife, cutting board, and an onion before washing your hands. “I actually stay here sometimes overnight. It’s easier, that way I won’t waste time going back and forth from home.” Marcus explained.

Surprise filled your features and you sent him an impressed look. “Wow, no wonder you’re getting better fast.”

He chuckles bashfully, filling another mixing bowl with flour and whatever else he desired. “Eh, I guess.” The shrug of his shoulders made you laugh before you turned back to your own work.

With one last question of Marcus asking if you minded his music, and you affirming that you didn’t mind at all, he turned the dial on his bluetooth radio up and you both fell into a comfortable rhythm; Marcus in his corner and you on the stovetop.

By the end of the evening you prepared a vibrant beef braciole dish that a few of the others had been practicing since Carmy introduced it. You brought it to one of the stainless steel counters with two forks, setting it next to the two pieces of cake Marcus had sliced up from his recipe of the evening.

You both dug in, humming in satisfaction as you tasted each other’s creations, sharing impressed and ‘holy shit’ expressions that made the other laugh.

“This is fantastic.” Marcus said, another mouthful of beef being added to his mouth.

You laughed and shook your head, muttering a thank you, trying to swallow down your surprise. Marcus could tell, because he doubled down. “No, really, Y/N. This is the best one I’ve tasted yet, aside from the big Chef.” He said with a grin.

Shaking your head, you gave him your appreciation. “Thank you, Chef. I can say the same thing from you.” You motioned with your fork to the cake. In truth, his words pushed you and affected you more than you lead on.

The both of you fell into a rhythm, whipping up treats and savory meals almost every day after work. Marcus playing music at his own station, you timing yourself relentlessly to try and replicate the fast pace of the open hours of the restaurant. You sometimes even found yourself staying overnight, taking turns with Marcus to use his sleeping bag—he insisted where you didn't want to overstep, but sleep called you and his pillow was comfy.

Relentless practice proved to keep you on track and up to pace with everyone else, slowly but surely. The impressed glances shared between Tina and Sydney every time you had them taste a dish or were quicker than usual were enough, but Carmen was ever the critic. A new menu soon graced The Beef alongside their regular sandwiches, and it was a tough menu to master. You almost had them all down pat, practicing relentlessly for almost four weeks now after work.

However, every time you presented a steaming spoonful of stew, or a perfect bite of chicken piccata that everyone else in the kitchen seemed to love, Carmen would bite into it, hum, and shake his head. "Good." He said every time.

"Good like.. good good? Or good but start over, it's trash, throw it away?" You would ask, clearly waiting with baited breath on a slow day.

Carmy shook his head again. "It's not ready yet, Chef." And then he would be off to collect more expo receipts and leave you there disappointed, shoulders deflating in defeat.

"I think it's great, Chef." Marcus would smile, hands busy working on dough for his unmastered donuts. You would offer a sad smile in return, marching off to assemble another hoagie and handing your failed dish to a waiting Richie in exchange for an appreciative rub of his hands together. The negative feedback only spurred you to improve your craft as much as you could.

It was a rare occasion that Marcus didn't stay at the restaurant overnight. He left early in a frenzy after a phone call, muttering something about his mom's nurse needing him. Offering comfort wasn't your strongest suit, so you bid him luck and made a mental note to bring him his favorite coffee during work later in hopes to cheer him up.

At the same time you were plating what felt like your dozenth chicken piccata of the week, soft footsteps approached the kitchen. As soon as the timer went off behind you, you whipped around and hit the top, a harsh exhale and wipe of your forehead following the silence. You felt proud, plating and finishing your dish in record time without any hiccups.

A soft chuckle brought you out of your stupor, head snapping up to meet bright blue eyes from across the kitchen. There stood Carmy with his unruly curls, white tee and brown jacket he was beginning to pull off. In place of his usual stoic face was an amused expression, clearly not expecting to see someone in the kitchen at this hour.

You froze at the sight of him, but his soft smile eased your shoulders a bit. “Smells good.” Carmy said as if it was the most casual thing, hanging his jacket by the lapels on a hook. He sat on the bench, beginning to change his shoes into nonslip ones.

Stuttering, your cheeks turned pink. “O-oh, uhhh, thanks.”

“You’re here early.” He said back, standing now and readying to tug on his apron.

Brows furrowed, you looked above him to glance at the kitchen clock. Big red numbers read 6:15 AM and your brows raised in shock. Before you had a chance to respond, he walked closer, beginning to talk again. “I’ve noticed you and Marcus are always here before anyone else.”

You shrugged, nervous smile gracing your lips as they upturned slightly. “Ah, yeah. We both wanted to practice. Y’know, catch up with everyone else.” You explained. Conveniently, you decided to not mention the instances of spending the night, figuring it would be a little to embarrassing or earn you a talking to.

Carmy was now approaching the other side of the counter where you stood, hands tapping the steel. His little smug smile didn’t leave his lips as he nodded. “I also noticed a few things missing from our inventory.” His words were clearly teasing, but they made your face run pale.

“Fuck, I'm sorry, Chef. Take it from my paycheck, please—I didn’t even consider—“ The rambling was embarrassing, and his head shake cut you off.

“No, stop, Y/N. I'm teasing you.” Carmy laughed softly with a small smile, clearly endeared. The use of your name made you bashful.

A beat of silence followed, your mouth opening and closing like a fish. Carmy glanced behind you at the dish that laid perfectly plated, motioning to it with his hands. “Let’s see if your hard work is paying off.”

Blinking in surprise, you obediently nodded and turned to grab the dish. Sliding it in front of him, you gathered a fork and knife. Carmy grasped the utensils with a ‘thank you’, fingers brushing yours. It didn’t take long for the chef to dig in, eyes immediately closing once the first bite hit his taste buds.

“So.. what do you think?” You plucked up the courage to ask after he swallowed.

Carmy looked up at you, lips curling upwards and a proud look dawning his features. “Great, as usual.”

Usually those words would make you excited, but Carmy had a habit of complimenting your dishes before declaring how they weren’t good enough just yet. You simply nodded, swallowing thickly as he took another bite and savored the taste. “What should I change?” You asked, straightening your back in preparation for the inevitable criticism.

Humming, Carmy shook his head, the same amused look as before coming back. “Nothing, Chef. It’s perfect.” He said firmly. Those words made your breath leave your lungs, hands becoming clammy, and before you knew it you were grinning.

“Really?” You asked, not able to keep your excitement together.

Carmy let out a full laugh at that. “Really.” He confirmed.

You clapped your hands together before covering your face, hiding the grin as best you could. It had been awhile since you felt so elated due to cooking, and you weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself. You felt like the whole month of dedicating your time to cooking was culminating to this moment. Carmen watched you with soft eyes, taking in how happy his words made you. You turned back to him, giving up hiding how ecstatic you were. “I braised it differently this time, could you tell? Well, obviously you could if it’s good this time.” You rambled on, a bit of a giggle in your voice.

“It’s always this good, Y/N.” Carmy suddenly said. His words had you pausing, tilting your head playfully. Hand trailing along the counter, he rounded it to stand next to you.

"What do you mean?" You asked, smile falling a bit. The man's words echoed in your head and you looked around the room as if to try and find meaning from his statement. Surely he didn't have you remake the dish for no reason, right? But Carmy's strong posture and raised brows, waiting for you to figure it out yourself, made you think that's exactly what he did. Sobering up, you scoffed and crossed your arms as you sent him a look. "Are you serious? This whole time..." You trailed off.

"Yes, this whole time." He said, leaning on the counter with one hand, eyes not leaving you. "I needed you to bust your ass, Chef. I knew you needed the practice, so I gave you the motive." Carmy explained. The scrunch of your nose made his chest hum with something warm, akin to looking at a kicked puppy that he wanted to scoop up and reassure. Guilt washed over him a little bit as he feared he was acting more and more like his old Chef, but he pushed those feelings down as best he could. He did this for the right reasons, unlike that dickhead in New York did to him. There was no berating and preying on insecurities, just some tough love.

Sighing, you were torn between being angry and feeling grateful that Carmy saw this potential in you. You didn't know what to say, so you blurted out exactly how you felt. "I'm embarrassed."

Carmy frowned, ducking his head to catch your eyes where you looked down a bit. "Why are you embarrassed?" His voice was soft, tiptoeing as to not make you more upset.

Allowing him to meet your eyes, you curled into yourself at the attention. "Because I've made a fool of myself these past few months." You murmured, spilling your guts to your new boss for some reason that you didn't know. Maybe it was the quiet kitchen, or the sudden defeat you felt, but your mouth was faster than your mind.

A small 'no, no, no' left Carmy and he shook his head, reaching a hand out to place on your shoulder. "Don't be. I came in and turned shit upside down, it just took you a bit more practice to get the hang of things." His hand started to rub your arm comfortingly, leaving heat where he touched. You knew this must have been a form of an apology in his own way. The words didn't come easy to Carmen, but he tried to convey it the best he could.

Leaning forward, Carmy mustered his best stern expression, wanting to keep your gaze so you couldn't look away and distract yourself from his next words. Your breath caught in your throat, not used to this proximity. "I'm proud of you. You should be proud of yourself too."

Heat encapsulated your cheeks and you nodded, spurring him to nod as well. "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

As soon as Carmy saw your shy smile he gave one right back to you. Still close, he radiated heat that made it all the more difficult to calm the butterflies growing in your stomach. Eyes never leaving each other's, the air grew tense as the dust settled. Unlike the usual sandwich smell, an aroma of a clean linen scent came off of him as you realized he must have showered before coming here. Carmy never would admit it, but your perfume filled the air for him, making him linger longer than he should have. The blink of your stare looking up at him made Carmy's chest tighten, and he immediately pulled himself out of whatever trance he was in.

Clearing his throat, Carmy let go of your shoulder and backed up a bit. "No more all-nighter's here. Okay, Chef?" He tried to seem playful to rid himself of awkwardness and whatever that just was.

Mouth falling open, you gaped at him. "How did you know?!"

Hands up in surrender, Carmy just shrugged. "A Chef never tells his secrets," He began, heading over to the drying rack to busy himself, playfully adding, "And someone kept leaving the spare key out, so I figured." The smirk he sent you made you grin and roll your eyes.

Carmy would never tell you he knew because that's what he used to do. Before he got the hang of things in his earlier days as a chef, late nights in the restaurant kitchen and a half hour of sleep was the norm for him. As you began cleaning up your work the chef's gaze lingered on you, blue eyes studying your form with a thoughtful look. Carmy shook his head, smiling to himself and starting his work. He reckoned he saw himself in you more than ever.

[darnell-la]

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗧 𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗞𝗘 𝗢𝗨𝗧

pairing: dark!project x!wolverine x government employee!reader

warnings: held to work, reader on her period, project x gone wild, killing, hunting/sniffing down, rough sex, oral (fem receiving), creampie, kidnapped, new life, etc.

note: we wish…

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits and memes of the people we write about!

————————————————————————

𝟯𝗥𝗗 𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗣𝗢𝗩

Working for the government isn’t how people think. Yes, you get paid a good amount, but you’ll be a slave to them forever or until you mysteriously die.

Y/n tried quitting last year after the government started bringing mutants in. At first, they were locking the bad ones up. She had no problem with that until they started experimenting on and tortuous them. Good and bad. It didn’t matter.

She had no family, so she thought she’d be able to get away with saying she’d tell the world what they do under the white house.

She hasn’t seen home since that day. They have a special room here at her job, just like the rest that tried to leave. They knew she had no family. They only hire people who people wouldn’t question if they don’t show up anymore.

Y/n is currently checking up on Project X, who’s in his cage. She begged her job to never put her with him because of his past actions. Anyone who gets near him dies.

After y/n pulled her stupid stunt to quit, they started making her work down here, being the only one to work alone with him, ever.

They told her how unusually quiet he was when she entered the room. Usually, he groans and growls, making as much noise as he can to break out, but now, he just stands there, watching her for the hours she’s in the room with him.

“Been a long week, project x — Wished you talked to me so you could tell me your name,” y/n sighed as she sat on her working chair, ready to start her long night shift.

Logan who was named Project X after the government had pushed himself onto his feet from an unusual smell. A smell he’d never smelt before.

He couldn’t explain the smell he was smelling, but he knew it smelt good. His pupils grew as his heart rate quickened. He felt hungry all of a sudden. He was just fed…

“Aye, buddy, wassup?” Y/n asked as an alarm went off, telling her his heart rate had risen. Y/n looked through the computer schedule, seeing if anyone had given him any shots today that could’ve raised his heart rate, but there were none. Even if there were, why was his heart beating fast now?

Y/n looked at Logan after hearing him growl for the first time ever. The view made her own heart rate rise. He was looking right at her, hands gripping the metal poles as his teeth pushed together, showing the slightly longer fan teeth.

“Woah — Relax, buddy,” Y/n said as she stepped towards the cage to see if he had hurt himself somehow. As soon as her foot passed the yellow line that had “don’t cross” written big on it, a hand reached for her.

Y/n backed up with a scream. She’s never been attacked by any mutants. Ever.

Logan tried reaching further, trying to squeeze through the bars, but he couldn’t. He grew angry when he couldn’t. He knew the smell was coming from her once she got close.

He’s never felt like this in his life. It’s like his body took over and began acting like the animal he was.

Logan shouted as he forced his claws out, now scratching at the metal bars. Y/n’s body was overcome with fear. She was stuck for. A few seconds until she saw the metal on the cage, move. They’re not supposed to move.

Y/n quickly ran over to her desk and pressed the big red button that was there just in case Project X had broken out. She didn’t care if he wasn’t out. He was getting there.

“Help! Help!” Y/n screamed as she ran over to the door, pressed the button to leave. They usually have to let her out. “What’s wrong, Ms. Y/n? Your shift isn’t over yet,” a guard said.

“He’s breaking out! Project x is breaking out!” She yelled into the speaker. The guards had looked at each other, never having this happen to them on their shift. They didn’t know what to do at first.

“Please, let me out! Let me out!” She yelled again, snapping them out of their slow thoughts. One of the guards pushed a button to let her out and the other pressed an alarm, alarming every guard that Project X was breaking out.

After hearing the alarm “Project X” alarm, y/n knew he was more dangerous than she thought.

Logan fought for a while, getting wilder after y/n escaped him until one of the bars broke. He kicked the bar, causing it to fly across the room, allowing him to squeeze through and escape.

The wild man shouted before walking out of the room he’d been in for who knows how long.

He heard footsteps come around the corner. He was ready to get through anyone who tried to get in his way.

“Hands and knees, Project X! Hands and knees!” A guard yelled. Logan smirked before running at the group of guards, killing every single one.

Y/n ran faster after hearing the guard and then yelled right after. She knew Project X had killed them. She was scared she was next.

As Logan was fighting, he was fixated on sniffing y/n out. He knew which way she ran, but had to track her down from the way she smelt.

Every second that passed, she smelt better. He’s never smelt that smell in his life, yet, he needed it like he’s had it every day of his life.

Y/n finally made it to her room, closing and locking her door. She hoped he didn’t know where she slept. He shouldn’t. He’s never been outside of that room.

As time went by, it got quiet. The guards yelling at least. The alarms were still going off, but at least the yelling was gone, right? That means they got him. Right?

Y/n said on her bed, looking at the door to be prepared, but nothing happened. No one was near, she thought.

The young lady sighed as she turned her head. As soon as her eyes left the door, it was kicked open. Y/n screamed as she jumped further onto her bed, head turning towards the door.

“Augh,” he growled low with a smirk as he fixed his posture and walked into y/n’s room slowly. How did he know where she was? The man closed the girl's door, locking it, which she thought was going to be impossible by the way he kicked it open.

She thought kicking it open was impossible, but forgot, the door was light metal. Metal he would definitely be able to get through.

“P-Please don’t hurt me. Please! I-I’ll do anything! I’ll break you out. I swear!” Y/n said as her back hit the wall as she stayed on her bed. He ignored her offer, still grinning at her as he stepped closer.

“Please — What do you want from me!?” She yelled at him, pissed off that he won’t speak. Why is he coming after her? How did he find her?

Without answering her, Logan lunged at her. She screamed in the most horrific scream she’s ever screamed. She thought her life was over until he heard the man laugh.

Y/n’z eyes opened looking at what he was laughing at. He was laughing at her. Was he going to laugh while he shredded her body?

“What are you laughing at? Just get it over it!” She yelled in his face. He liked how feisty she got. Actually, he loved how feisty she was. Even though he hated how he got, it looked hot on her. Watching her yell, turned him on even more.

Logan ignored her again as he slowly moved down her body. She watched him, looking directly into his eyes, not knowing what he was going to do.

That was until he sniffed and groaned with his eyes shut tightly. “That’s where it’s comin’ from,” his raspy voice spoke before he ripped at y/n’s work jeans. They were thick, but no match for him.

Y/n screamed, shook at his actions and even his sentence became he’s never spoken around her. She was convinced he couldn’t speak.

Y/n thought she couldn’t be more surprised until the muscular and sweaty man ripped her panties off. She went to yell at him, but her voice got trapped in her mouth after he buried his face in between her thighs.

Y/n’s back arched, not able to speak for the first few seconds until she finally let out a loud moan, eyes rolling back to the point it slightly hurt.

“F-Fuck!” She screamed, head finally popping up to look down and in between her legs. “Fuck — No! No, please!” She kept screaming, but her voice sounded more cracked.

The man growled on her heat, slurping and slobbering all over cunt.

He didn’t know what came to him. He didn’t know why he loved the smell and taste of her. Years ago, he’d get icky when women said they were on their period, but something about being locked up for years and his mutant abilities being boosted made it impossible for him not to have a taste.

“N-No,” y/n’s back arched again, trying to close her legs, but the man used his huge hands to keep her legs separated. He knew she was close. He needed that smell over on his and in his mouth.

The man mumbled on her cunt, praising her but she couldn’t hear him. Her head went blank as she came undone all over his face.

If this was a normal human, he for sure would’ve drowned, but not Logan. He wished he could drown in her sweet juice.

“Fuuck, bub,” the man groaned as he leaned up, now moving over her until he was face to face with her. Her head was laid back on her sheets. He knew he drained her, but he needed more.

“Don’t pass out on me, princess. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten my cock wet, and you’re gonna be the first to drench it,” he said as he leaned back and off of her bed.

He was covered in blood. All of the guards and y/n’s. He thought it would be mindful to wet a towel in her room and wash his face off. He wanted her to faint from the good fuck he was about to give her. Nothing else.

“You know, baby? I always wanted to break outta here — But after I saw you? Fuck — I saw no need,” Logan said as he crawled back over y/n, sniffing up her body. “Not at all,”

“P-Please,” y/n’s low voice spoke. She was tired and needed to rest. It’s been a long week, and the way he just ate her out, made it longer. She’s on the line of passing out. “D-Don’t hurt me,”

“Ian gonna hurt you, bub. Gonna fill you up then get us outta here,” Logan said as he pulled his jeans down, freeing his cock. She had no idea what was going on or what he was saying. She was out of it.

“You’ve been comin’ in my little room for a month. You talk a lot, but I never mind. I find it shitty how these people could keep a pretty thing like you trapped in here with an animal like me,”

“Maybe it’s my luck — Just know, Ian, leavin’ heat without you. You belong to me now,” the man said. What was he talking about? Y/n was so confused that she felt pressure in between her legs.

The man let pour a shaky groan, feeling the young woman squeeze him tighter than he thought she could. It’s been a year, but he worse if it hadn’t, she’d still feel this amazing to him.

“Fuckin’ hell, y/n,” Logan spoke, triggering her slow-thinking mind. How did he know her name? “Have you been restricted from sex for decades too? You’re so fucking tight, fuck,” Logan was surprised.

“T-Too much — Too much!” Y/n gained some energy back to cry out and slap at his upper body. “Ah huh? Really? Can’t take a cock, baby? Can’t take my cock, baby?” Logan sounded more aggressive by the second.

“Been locked up for so long, I don’t give a fuck if I break you. I’ll put you back together, don’t worry. But you wouldn’t stay fixed for long,” he chuckled as y/n struggled to hold her moans.

“Cryin’ on my cock — Might be my new favorite thing, bub,” he said as he looked at her face. She looked so pretty. He wondered how she’d look with his huge cock in his mouth.

Ever since she stepped into his experimental room with one of her dress uniforms, he’s been feeling something for her. She was pretty, and after hearing her speak to him for weeks without him saying anything back, he fell in love with how smart she was.

Now that’s a woman he’s wanted for years…

“F-Fuck,” y/n gripped his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin. He loved the slight pain she gave him. “Names Logan, baby. Moan my name,” Logan said in a desperate voice.

She was confused. His quick switches confused her. “Moan my fuckin’ name before I stuck your ass neck,” he threatened. The man looked down, looking at the way his cock was coated in her blood and cum. She was a squirted and creamer.

“L-Logan,” she cried out, scared he was going to fuck her ass like he threatened. As much of a monster he seemed like now, he didn’t want to hurt her. He knew anal was something he’d have to get her comfortable with one day.

“Logan,” she moaned again, even if he didn’t ask for it. She was so close. Again. “That’s it, bub — Got me so fuckin’ close,” he snapped his hips, building the perfect rhythm to fuck her in.

Watching her mouth part and eyes cross as they rolled back was the last straw. The man’s hips stuttered, wanting y/n he was going to cum in her.

She wanted to freak out, but she couldn’t. She just laid there, moaning his name as she released on him again.

“Oh, fuck!” The man shouted as he spilled in her. Cumming at the same time wasn’t something he was expecting, but that was it for him. He was officially tied to her.

Logan wanted to speak to y/n. Ask her if she felt good, but he noticed she had passed out. “Once you wake up, you’ll be home,” he said, knowing exactly where he was heading.

Logan had slipped one of y/n’s nightgowns on her before picking her up and carrying her through the halls, avoiding the guards who were looking for him. They had cameras everywhere, yet the guards on duty tonight were fucking idiots.

Once they made it out, he ran through the street, trying to find a bus that would leave the city. After running around for too long, he decided to break into a drunk, placing y/n in the back and then driving off before anyone stopped him.

“We’re here, bub,” Logan spoke, hours away from Washington. His parents owned a cabin in the woods next to a highway in Oklahoma.

He knew it would be hard, but he was keeping y/n. He couldn’t let anyone else get what he smelled off of her. He was wild for her.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ғᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ sᴏᴏɴ...

[sapphicnae]

No exceptions?

Summary: Regina was mean to everyone, no exceptions. Yet when she was around you, it was a completely different story…

Pairing: Regina x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Just Regina being her mean self! But mostly fluff!

Words: 1.6k

Requested!

A/N: I really loved writing this one-shot, I’m a sucker for seeing Regina’s soft side for the reader and the reader only. I’m hoping to make a masterlist soon so you guys can see who I’ll write for. I’d love to write for any mean girls ships and I have a Leighton Murray fic in mind too which I’m dying to write. Requests are open!

Regina George had made fun of nearly everyone at school. No one was immune to her relentless teasing, that’s just the way it was at North Shore - so why was it that she had never seemed to target you before? You didn’t seem to mind it at all. In a way, it made you feel special.

The first incident of this type of treatment started when you had been walking rather quickly down a hallway to your next class. You had gotten so carried away studying in the library, that you hadn’t heard the bell ring. This led to you rushing to get to math class, not paying much attention to your surroundings. In the next step, you had felt yourself crash into someone in front of you. Judging from the way surrounding voices became hushed and the way you felt as though the halls had eyes all of a sudden, you could have guessed who it was without even looking at them. It was Regina George. In that moment, as you realised the identity of the girl who towered over you, you had braced yourself for an onslaught of insults. Yet they never came. Instead, upon meeting her gaze, you had seen her eyes soften, followed by her giving you an almost apologetic smile. But, before you could utter your own apology to her, she had already disappeared into the sea of students.

You had imagined that moment to have been a one-time thing. Maybe she was in a really good mood that day - anything to brush off her strange behaviour. But then came the second incident, where you had been heading into the cafeteria to grab some lunch and sit with your usual group of friends. As you had entered the cafeteria, you could already hear Regina’s voice loud enough, making her usual scathing comments about people as they walked past her table. Talking about their appearance, their clothes, or their hair - how trashy they looked. Once again, as you made your way past the table where the plastics were seated, you had mentally prepared yourself for whatever nasty comment would inevitably leave Regina’s mouth. Yet, when she had spotted your nervous gaze on her, all she did in return was smirk. You could’ve sworn she had given a subtle wink at you too, but with your racing thoughts, it was hard not to focus on simply making it past her as quickly as possible.

It was twice now, that you had escaped Regina’s infamous wrath. Which had left you wondering the reasons why - not that you were complaining.

It was actually nice not having to worry about being the target of Regina’s verbal attacks. So, within the next few days, you had grown the confidence to gift her warm smiles whenever you would catch her eye on you.

Then came the following week in the class that both you and Regina happened to share. As usual, you walked in and took a seat right in the corner, tucked away from everyone, ready to daydream your way through the hour. You had spotted Regina surrounded by Gretchen and Karen, chatting and giggling, while the teacher droned on about whatever chapter the class would be asked to read for next week’s quiz. You were finding it a little hard to focus on your own thoughts, as you kept feeling Regina’s gaze on you every so often. She was making it incredibly subtle – but not subtle enough.

What broke you out of your daydream was when the teacher seemed to have had enough of the chatter from the plastics, as she had suddenly ordered Regina and Gretchen to switch seats with other students. The worst part about this wasn’t that your daydreaming was interrupted, but that the student Regina was made to switch seats with, happened to be the student sitting next to you. You watched as she had rolled her eyes in the process of making her way over to the space next to you. She feigned indifference, as though sitting next to you wasn’t a big deal.

She had been waiting for a chance all week to finally get closer to you.

You can feel Regina’s presence next to you as you steal a glance at her before attempting to keep your focus towards the front. You seemed to be succeeding for a short while until, in your peripheral vision, you notice Regina drop her pencil. It rolls towards your desk. You have no time to wonder if it’s intentional or not before you feel her lean towards you, brushing her arm against yours as she reaches to pick it back up. This slight touch causes a flutter in your stomach, which you tried to hide by remaining stoic. Though as she rose back up, instead of returning back to her own space, she leaned in close, her lips next to your ear.

“What’re you doing after school, pretty girl?”

Her voice, low and confident, sent a small shiver down your spine. As she moved backwards you felt her eyes boring into you, in an intense yet nervous manner. Caught slightly off guard, you hesitated, wondering how you should respond…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This first interaction accelerated the relationship between you and Regina. You began to grow very close and she was making it much more obvious to people at school that you were hers. You would often go over to her house, sometimes accompanied by Gretchen and Karen, sometimes alone. Nothing romantic had happened between the two of you, yet some strange tension always lingered whenever you were around each other. You hadn’t bothered to question it; you were simply enjoying being placed on a pedestal in Regina’s eyes. Though, some of her passing comments would trigger that same flutter in your stomach as the first time she had spoken to you.

In the same class, a few weeks later, you had walked in to take your usual seat. You then watched as Regina struts in and makes her way towards the student who had decided to sit next to you. In the next moment, you saw them scamper away as Regina had ordered them to move.

“It’s nice to see that pretty little face of yours light up whenever I come around”

She whispered in sultry tone, as she settled into her seat. Until she had spoken those words, you hadn’t noticed the shy smile you had been sporting in response to her making the effort just to sit next to you. The remainder of the hour passed by uneventful.

The bell, which signified the lunch period, finally rang. This meant the majority of the class had packed up and left within a minute or so, leaving you completely alone with Regina. The tension that was always present between the two of you, seemed to fill the room once again. Once you had packed your things, you got out of your seat, ready to follow the rest of your classmates to the cafeteria – yet your plans were interrupted after you sensed Regina leave her seat behind you. You felt a hand catch yours which caused you to spin around to see why she was holding you back.

“Regina, I’m so hungry I’m about to ravage the next edible thing I see. What’s up?” You questioned her, with a sense of urgency knowing you were losing your chance to be first in the lunch line.

“Quit whining pretty girl, I just wanted you alone. I haven’t stopped thinking about you allll day.” The tone of her voice practically made you melt in front of her. It was hard to resist her after the treatment she had given you these past few weeks. From the touch of her hand to her soft voice, you had almost forgotten why you were in such a rush to leave the room. Though, now you were alone, you did have one question that had been playing on your mind from the day she started treating you differently. Until this moment you hadn’t realised how much the shared tension had been getting to you.

“Hmm All day?” You fell silent for a moment, hesitating, before continuing “and how do I know this isn’t all a joke, huh? Out of all the people in this school G, why me? What makes me so different from the others?”  You spoke in a curious tone, though remaining flirty. Judging from her break in eye contact, she hadn’t expected you to question her intentions here, of all places. After a moment, she thought of an idea on how to reassure you, whilst still maintaining the tone of the exchange. She stood tall in front of you, pulling you toward her, gripping either side of your waist now. She looked down at you slightly, moving from your eyes to your lips, then back your eyes again. With the corners of her mouth raised, she replied in a low voice,

“You know what I think of most people in this school? I don't. The only person I ever think about is you. I want to show you exactly what sets you apart from the rest…”  Without allowing you time to respond, she leaned her face down, attempting to meet your lips with her own…

“GUYS HURRY UP, IT’S FRIDAY WHICH MEANS THEY’RE DOING CHEESY FRIES.”

Karen’s voice echoed across the room, causing the two of you to jump apart, startled by the sudden interruption. Being lost in the shared moment, neither of you had heard her come rushing back into the classroom to find you. You felt your face grow red hot and saw Regina clearly sharing the same level of embarrassment. After exchanging an awkward glance, Regina gripped your hand once more and led you towards the door, a mix of excitement and frustration left hanging between you both.

[wonijinjin]

countless

author's note: sorry for not posting this sooner, i have been sick for the last week unfortunately, and just started to recover, hope you can understand:) (btw this is part of the 200 followers event, fell free to check it out!)

synopsis: your boyfriend is very eager to show you how much he loves you.

word count: 0.6k | genre: fluff | pairing: mingyu x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of alcohol and drinking, painkillers

the first thing you heard after waking up was a knock on your door, followed by a loud thud. you were still sleepy so you couldn’t really decipher the meaning of these sounds, since you were not expecting visitors at such random time in the night. well, except for your boyfriend, who was out with his friends, saying that you shouldn’t wait up for him, since he would be out for quite a while. “what is he doing outside? did he forget his keys?” you mumbled to yourself as you jogged to the door, in order to help mingyu unlock the door. however to your surprise the sight which greeted you wasn’t very usual; it was wonwoo, at his side your clearly tipsy boyfriend, wonwoo’s arms holding him up (as well as he could handle a giant like mingyu). “what do we have here, hmm?” you questioned with a raised brow, not the happiest with the situation since you knew you would be the one taking care of him and cleaning the aftermath of his mess. “umm, hi. so…he drank a bit more than he should’ve.” wonwoo greeted you, awkwardly trying to stop mingyu’s limbs from escaping his hold. “hi sweetheart!” mingyu hiccuped, smiling sheepishly like an idiot. “oh gosh, what a sight.” mingyu could see that you weren’t pleased with his state, but the giggle you were trying so hard to hold back assured him it would be fine. “here, let me take him from you.” wonwoo handed you your big koala boyfriend in an instant; now that you gave it some thought he must’ve been extremely tired, afterall mingyu had been working out for years, building extreme amounts of muscle. “thanks. he has been whining about wanting to kiss you, so don’t be surprised if he attacks you. anyways, I will be on my way now I think. take care!” wonwoo waved, leaving you alone in the living room with mingyu. “i have missed you so much baby! give me a kissy kiss!” mingyu screamed (where he got the sudden energy burst from, you had no idea) while hugging you, smushing your face in his hands. he showered you with kisses, never stopping if it wasn’t for you making him pause. “wonwoo was indeed right, although you attacking me is nothing out of the ordinary.” you giggled, his face turning redder than it already was.

“I need more kisses!” he repeated for not the first time after a while, not leaving you alone. “mingyu baby I love so very much and missed you just as much, however I am tired. it is the middle of the night, you know? besides, how many kisses has it been? I cannot even remember how long has it been since we sat down.” you answered. “but I even planned on telling you all about my night! the boys told me so many stories! they are so interesting!” he pouted with big eyes; he looked exactly like a kicked puppy whose spirit has been destroyed. “oh really now?” your crossed arm and the way you were already standing in front of the couch only appeared to mingyu upon closer inspection, leaving him missing your lips even more. “yes! please at least this one story! it was about how minghao got into the situation where he had to wear a peacock costume on tv…” your exhausted mind couldn’t really process this, so you decided to end the conversation there. “tell me about that when you are sober, okay? now let’s get you to bed instead.” you urged as you dragged his almost limp body to the bedroom, tucking him into bed, and kissing him good night one last time, but not before putting a glass of water and painkillers on his nightstand. “sleep well, I will be waiting for that interesting story tomorrow, alright?”

[unreliablesnake]

Lost and found (Simon Riley x reader)

Note: Spoiler after the cut.

“Um, Simon? What are you doing on the floor?” you asked groggily as you sat up and watched your boyfriend kneeling on the hardwood floor.

“I’m looking for something,” he replied casually as he turned on the flashlight on his phone and looked under the bed. When you asked what it was, he didn’t respond. But a minute or so later he sat back on his heels and held up his fist. “Found it.”

You crawled closer to him, surprised to see him look almost happy. After what had happened a few weeks back, you expected him to be depressed for a long time. He couldn’t just bottle up his emotions around you, he always told you how he felt. But now something changed and it made you worry. It was so sudden, after all, only last evening he had a panic attack when someone was shot in the movie you were watching.

You wrapped your fingers around his fist and asked, “What is it?”

Simon smirked at you as he rested his elbows on the edge of the bed. “You would like to know, wouldn’t you?” he said teasingly. When you nodded, he peeled off your fingers, and opened his hand to let you see what was there on his palm. “After what happened to Johnny, I realized that I can die on the field any day, and I don’t want you not to know how much I love you,” he explained, but your eyes were fixed on the delicate white gold ring. “So I just want to know if you would be willing to marry me?”

Silence. No words left your lips after what he said. There were just too many emotions in your mind at the same time and you didn’t know what to say. You wanted to marry him, that wasn’t even a question, but you weren’t sure if he was in the right state of mind to make such a decision.

“You’re gonna say no,” he suddenly spoke up as he pulled his hand back.

But you were quick to grab his hand and lace your fingers with his while the ring was stuck between your palms. “This is not a no. I just need to know you’re truly ready,” you told him gently.

Simon gulped then pressed a kiss on your hand. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life. I have no one apart from you. No one. I can’t risk losing you, love.”

“We’ll wait with the wedding until you’re truly ready. You have me. I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him with a smile.

Nodding, he grabbed the ring with his other hand and motioned you to show him your hand. You flexed your fingers with a giggle, and watched as Simon put on the ring. “We should get married before I go on our next mission. I want to tell the others that they’re working with a married man now,” he informed you before pulling your head closer for a kiss.

[youunravelme]

nothing happened in the way i wanted part 2

author's note: okay so here's part 2! sorry for making you wait, i like the anticipation lololol

summary: a year has passed and you are no closer to understanding why matt ended things and you have every plan of avoiding that thought until he comes back in town for the offseason, then suddenly he's everywhere.

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader

warnings: ANGST, friends to lovers to exes to lovers, mention of sexual assault, attempted sexual assault, drinking, depression, panic attacks, let me know if i missed something! (these include the trigger warnings from part 1)

before

a piece of plastic should not be that big of a deal.

but it is when there are two pink lines staring back at you.

weren’t you and matt careful? he always wore condoms, you were on birth control, you two were so careful all the time—

wait.

shit.

except for a few weeks ago.

you were wearing a red bikini at a pool party and matt had tugged you into the guest bathroom. he didn’t have any condoms and you assured him it was fine.

but maybe it wasn’t fine.

because there were two fucking pink lines staring back at you. and the worst part? matt wouldn’t be home for another two hours or so.

you were hyperventilating, surely. that’s why you felt like you couldn’t breathe?

oh god.

you were going to have to figure out how to raise a child while matt was on the road. oh god, what if he didn’t want the baby? what if you didn’t want the baby? what if he didn’t want the baby or you?

you were pacing back and forth in your living room when matt came home, arms full of bags from his workout. they immediately dropped when he saw the look on your face.

“what’s wrong?” he asked. “what happened? did someone die?”

you shook your head and burst into more tears. it was a mere second before you were wrapped up in his arms, one of his hands stroked your hair while the other stayed firmly put around your waist.

“baby, you’re scaring me.” at the sound of the pet name, you sobbed even harder. baby. there was a baby.

“i’m sorry, matty, i’m sorry,” you managed to get out between cries.

“what’re you sorry for, huh? you haven’t done anything wrong, have you?”

your hands were shaking as you pulled back from him, opening your palm to show the piece of plastic in your hand.

“what—” but matt seemed to have lost his voice at the sight of the pink lines staring back at him. “oh,” was the only thing he found fit to say.

“i’m sorry, matty. i thought it would be fine, but i went to the dollar store because i didn’t have any money and this was the only test available and—”

matt tugged you back into his chest. “it’s okay. we’ll figure it out.”

“we’re too young!” you wailed. “barely 20.”

“it’s one test, we’ll take another and if it’s still positive, we’ll go to the doctor,” he murmured against your hair. “wait,” he started. “where did you say you got the test?”

you pulled back, confused as to why his voice took a sudden turn from concern to something you couldn’t quite place. “dollar store, why?”

matt laughed. he threw his head back and laughed. “baby,” he started. “you chose a cheap test, it could be a false positive.”

you blinked. “is that how that works? i didn’t think—”

“let’s get another test, and we’ll take it, together.”

matt drove you both to the pharmacy, his hand on your thigh the entire ride. he went in alone, grabbed a box of clear blue and a bag of sour patch kids before he came back out. you almost burst into tears at the sight. as you ripped into the bag, matt’s hand found its way back to your thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing patterns into your pants leg.

the sour patch kids had done the job of calming your nerves for the moments leading up to retaking a pregnancy test. matt held your hand while the two of you waited for the timer to go off.

“whatever the result is, i’m with you,” he mumbled against the side of your head. and when the timer went off, matt was the one to check it, you were too overwrought with nerves. he didn’t even check the test, wanting you to see the result first.

negative.

a sigh escaped your mouth. your shoulders sagged as tears came to your eyes. relief wasn't a strong enough word to describe how you were feeling in that moment. matt pressed a kiss against your temple and wrapped you in his arms.

“one day,” he said. “just not today.”

after

maybe you were a bit of a coward, waiting for tuesday to come around before you texted matt a good time to meet. you waited until the last two minutes of your lunch break before you sent him a message. the second you heard the whoosh sound, you put your phone on do not disturb and shoved it in your bag so you could forget about it.

frankie popped his head into the studio while you were hunched over a canvas, carefully scraping away the back side of it to clean.

“you busy?” he asked.

you looked up before glancing down at the giant canvas in front of you. “i can take a small break, my back is killing me. do you need me to clean up? how long do you need me?”

frankie shrugged. “not long, so you don’t have to put anything away. i just wanted to talk to you about your future.”

your stomach dropped. “is this a segue into firing me?”

“you’re so dramatic,” frankie chuckled. “no, you’re not being fired. i’m more so trying to get you in a place where you can be compensated fairly one day.”

you blinked. “are you not compensating me fairly right now?”

frankie rolled his eyes. “you have a lot of talent, and unfortunately, i can’t pay you any more until you get a graduate degree in art conservation.”

confused, you nodded. “i know,” you said. “i started here for experience to use on grad school applications.”

“and have you applied anywhere yet?”

you opened your mouth and then promptly shut it again. no, no you had not.

frankie sighed and placed his hands on his hips. “look, you’re talented, i’ve said that plenty of times already and i want you to be successful, whether that’s as a conservator or an independent freelance painter. what i don’t want is you staying in st. louis forever in this job waiting around for something to happen.”

waiting for something to happen.

waiting.

what exactly were you waiting for?

frankie continued. “i’ve emailed you some of the best conservation programs in the states if that’s a route you wanna go. i honestly think you could do conservation or freelance painting, you’d be great at either, but that’s a choice only you can make. if you want to go to grad school, i will gladly write as many letters of recommendations as you’d need, i’d even help you by asking clients for some if that’s what you want, but the ball is in your court.”

for a moment, you were floored, truly astounded that someone would go through those lengths to help you figure out your life. for now, all you could manage to say was a “thank you.”

“anytime,” frankie replied.

he left the studio room shortly thereafter so you could continue the mindless scraping once more.

when the work day was finally done, your hand was sore from the constant repetitive motions and your back ached from hunching over. but at least the scraping was done.

you grabbed your bag and car keys and headed out the front door. the aux was the first thing you reached for after locking yourself in the car. it wasn’t until you searched your bag to grab your phone that you remembered the text you sent matt earlier that day, the reason why your phone was on do not disturb.

you:

what does your week look like?

matt had responded two minutes after your initial text.

matty:

i’m free tonight, or any other time you’re free.

you rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the smile on your face.

you:

i just got off work, let me go home and change and we can find a place to meet.

you barely managed to get the music flowing through the aux when your phone buzzed with a text.

matty:

you can always stop by the house? mom, dad, and taryn would love to see you. we could go on a walk around the neighborhood...

your stomach churned at the thought, it felt a little too close, too familiar. but there were very few places in that city that wouldn’t spark some sort of memory for you. you grew up there, you grew up there with matt. there were seldom spaces that weren’t deeply intertwined in your co written story with him.

you:

that’s fine.

neither of your parents were home when you got there, which was probably for the best, it meant you wouldn’t get asked where you were going or why you agreed to talk to matt after all this time.

you made the drive to his parents’ house. it felt as familiar as putting on the old t-shirt you’d stolen from your mom before you left for college. you didn’t need the gps, even after the time had passed.

you parked in the same spot you always did when you finally got a car to drive to matthew’s. it wasn’t like that spot on the street was used very often, not when you were dating at least. matt hated making you drive, especially when his car was newer and better and by all of his standards, safer than yours.

by the time you made it onto the front porch, taryn was opening the front door and smiling so wide, her eyes were squinting.

“you’re here!” she shrieked. it was only a matter of seconds before you were wrapped in her arms. “what brings you here?”

your mouth opened to respond, but you were promptly cut off.

“she’s with me.”

matt appeared over taryn’s shoulder looking every bit the man you fell in love with all those years ago.

taryn pulled back from the hug, her eyes wide. “what? she’s with—”

“not like that,” you smiled gently. “just came to talk, figure some things out.”

“are you staying for dinner?”

you looked at matt, unsure if that was something he’d even want. “it’s up to you, i won't force you to stay,” he said.

you shrugged. “we’ll play it by ear.”

matt nodded and moved past taryn. “you good for a walk?” he asked, eyes never once leaving your face. and you couldn’t help but stare back, getting lost in the pools of blue that once were your whole world. you felt yourself nod right before following him down the stairs and off the porch.

neither of you said anything until you were both sure his family couldn’t see you from their house anymore.

“thank you,” you said. “i should’ve said that the other night.”

matt shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. “you don't need to thank me for that. i’m sorry that happened.”

“you couldn’t have done anything to prevent it.”

“i could’ve told the bartender to stop giving him drinks when i saw how drunk you were.”

your head whipped to the side to look at him, but matt wouldn’t return your stare. his jaw was tightly clenched. “how’d you even know i was there?”

mat shrugged and kicked a rock out of the way. “i always notice you, even when i don’t mean to.”

there were no words coming to your mind, nothing you could say could add to the conversation. so you nodded and looked ahead of you.

“i wanted to apologize—”

“matt—”

“for everything.”

you stopped walking altogether. “don’t,” you said. “don’t say that. don’t apologize.”

matt’s brows pulled together, the corners of his lips turned down. “why?”

“because i don’t want it.” words you thought you’d never say.

did you mean them? it felt like you did. for months, you’d waited for a moment for him to apologize, to admit that he regretted it. but now that you were faced with this decision, you weren’t sure it was an apology you wanted.

“what do you want, then?” he asked, earnestly this time.

you looked down at your beaten up hokas, the ones you bought after moving back to missouri, needing something that didn’t used to stay in the apartment you shared with matthew. the shoes were only a few months old, but they were discolored and dirty. you wore them to work, and often got droplets of solvent or paint on them when you weren’t paying attention.

matt’s foot nudged your own. “what do you want?” he repeated.

“did you cheat on me?” your eyes were still trained on the ground, so you didn’t see the look of hurt in matt’s eyes. you only saw the way he stepped back immediately.

“what?” he asked, pain clear in his voice. “why would you think that? i would never do that to you. you have to know that, please know that i’d never cheat on you.”

you shrugged, still not making eye contact. maybe you were scared if you did, you’d start crying, and he’d seen you cry enough times since he’d been back in town. “you broke up with me over a five minute phone call, matt. it was out of the blue, didn’t make any sense. the only reason i could think of was that you got tired of me and found someone better.”

matt scoffed. “i could never find someone better than you,” he said. “and never in my wildest dreams or thoughts did i ever even consider cheating on you.”

you finally met his eyes. the once bright blue irises were now darker, whether in pain or anger, you didn’t know. you weren’t sure how much had changed with him since the break up. “then why’d you end it? why’d you wait until you were traded and nearly halfway into the season to tell me it’s over?”

“because i didn’t want you to move to florida.”

you figured as much, but it still stung hearing it confirmed.

“why?” you asked.

“because you kept putting off your life for me! i hated it!” matt was pacing now, shoving his hands through his hair.

at the same time, your head tilted. you wanted answers. you wanted the reason why he'd ended things out of nowhere and the reason he just gave you wasn’t enough. “what’re you talking about?”

matt stopped moving long enough to fix you with a look. “you wanted to go to ucla until i committed to notre dame. and then when i signed with calgary, you transferred after a year.”

“so?”

matt scoffed. “so?”

“i wanted to do that!”

“and i wanted you to be yourself, i wanted you to chase your dreams without worrying about me, without altering your life just to stay with me!”

you stepped back. “so you didn’t want me with you?”

“that��s not what i said!”

“then what are you trying to say, matt? we’re just not compatible? headed in two different directions?”

“i—” he groaned and ran a hand down his face before shoving that same hand through his disheveled curls. “i wanted to do right by you. you are so gifted, and you could’ve gone to any school you wanted, but you followed me. i didn’t want to be the reason you never got to do what makes you happy.”

“so you took the one thing i wanted away from me?”

“you weren’t going to choose yourself! you were never going to choose yourself, so i did.”

“that wasn’t your choice to make, matt!” you couldn’t help but want to rip your hair out. who was he to think he could make decisions for you?

he took a step closer to you before immediately stepping backwards and pacing. “i have known you my entire life,” he said. it was an exaggeration, you both knew it, but as you both got older, it was harder to remember the years before you were in each other’s lives. “you are the kindest person i know, the best person i know. you have made more than enough sacrifices for me, for this game i love. but i was tired of being the only one living out their dream. you love art, or at least you did. you loved it, you painted all the time growing up. but when you moved to calgary? you stopped. you went to my games, galas, team events, instead. i wanted you to have something that you loved just as much as i love hockey.”

“and what if that was you? what if i was okay just supporting you?”

he shook his head adamantly. “you deserve more than that. i love you too much to let you live like that.”

you furrowed your brow. “live like what? supporting the love of my life as he lives out his dreams?” you tentatively took a step closer to him, imploring matt to look at you. “why is that such a bad thing?”

“because what if it’s not enough?” he looked up. you were shocked to see tears brimming in his eyes. “what if one day, you wake up next to me and resent me for dragging you all over the continent for a stupid sport?”

“it’s not a stupid sport—”

“it is when i’ve seen it ruin people, ruin their relationships.”

“but you ruined ours when you broke up with me, matt. how does that make any sense?” his mouth opened and shut once, twice, three times before he avoided your eyes altogether. “matt, how does that make sense?” you took a step towards him, slowly but moving. “matt?”

“i could handle it if you hated me,” he said. “i could learn to live with it if it meant you got to be happy in the end.”

your heart broke, your face crumpled as you watched the man you’d loved for a decade shuffle shoe around what he was actually trying to say. “why couldn’t i be happy with you, matt? why isn’t that possible in your mind?”

you waited for him to say something. it felt like you waited forever. but you would’ve waited for the cows to come home if it meant honesty from him.

“because i’m never gonna be enough for that.”

you thought the phone call from six months ago ripped your heart in half, you fully believed he’d done the most damage then. if your heart was going to be broken again, surely it would be when you would inevitably see another girl hanging off his arm at brady and emma’s wedding.

but there you were, standing in front of the man you still loved, heart breaking even worse because he believed he wasn’t enough. he wasn’t enough.

“matt—”

“to me? you’re everything. you’re literally the smartest person i know and you’re so talented and kind and considerate.” he laughed a little under his breath. “i still remember you shaking in the goal while i practiced my shots. i was waiting for you to say you didn’t want to do it, but you did it because you knew how much it meant to me.”

you smiled as you remembered the moment he was talking about. you were eleven and your crush on matt was just starting to form. you would’ve done anything he asked even if it meant flinching every two seconds.

“breaking up with you was the worst thing i’ve ever done, but if it meant sparing you the life of forever being forced to follow me around, it would be worth it.”

you stepped closer to him, uncaring that the two of you had been having this conversation in the middle of the sidewalk of his neighborhood. “who put this idea in your head, matt? was it me? was it—”

“your parents.”

you barely even heard the “what” leave your lips, so you were unsure how matt did. he looked as uncomfortable as you felt.

“i was gonna propose when you moved to florida. i bought the ring before the season ended and over the summer i had every intention of asking your dad for his blessing.” matt cleared his throat before finally looking up at the sky. the sun, thankfully, was beginning to set, golden hour was coming soon. “you’d gone out with our moms, emma, and taryn, and i went over to your house to talk to your dad.”

you weren’t liking where the story was going.

“he asked if i would quit hockey for you.”

your stomach dropped to your feet.

“when i said i would in a heartbeat, he didn’t believe me.”

your stomach was in the core of the earth.

“matt...”

he swallowed and looked at you. “i would do it, you know. if you’d asked me, i would’ve given hockey up in a heartbeat to keep you.”

“i know, matty, i know,” you said, the nickname slipping out before you could stop it. “what else did my dad say?”

matt shook his head.

“matt,” you implored.

but he didn't relent.

“matthew.” you took a step closer, finally, after months of little to no physical contact, your hand cupped his cheek. and like he had no control over his body, like he was acting on pure instinct, he leaned into your palm. “what did he say?”

he shook his head again. “i can’t.”

“you can.” you stroked your thumb along his cheekbone.

“he asked if this was the life i wanted for you. the moving around, the fighting, the crazy schedules, the tweets, all of it. he asked verbatim if that’s the kind of life i wanted you to live, if i wanted you under a microscope for the rest of our lives. he told me that he knew why i was there, and that if i thought you’d be happy to a life like that, then he'd give me his blessing.”

your hand shook a little, but matt’s hand steadied it against his face.

“it’s not that i thought you were weak,” he clarified. “it’s not that i didn’t want you, because i did. i just didn’t want you to be stuck with me for the rest of our lives.”

“is that what he said? that if we got married, i’d be shackled to you?”

matt shrugged, but in his silence, you found the answer.

“matty,” again, the nickname slipping out before you could stop it. “i’m sorry, you should’ve said something—”

“and cause problems between you and your dad?” he shook his head. “you love him, i wasn’t gonna come between that.”

you could’ve cried at that sentiment. after all this time, he was still looking out for you. “thank you, matt. thank you for being honest.”

he gave you a small smile, one that broke your heart as much as it mended it. “you staying for dinner?”

the temptation was there, to go inside and sit in your old seat next to him, to feel your shoulders brush like they used to when the two of you were still together. maybe you’d laugh at something brady said, maybe you’d compliment chantal on her cooking.

but there were bigger fish to fry at home in the shape of your father.

so you shook your head no. “i think you know i have to go.”

matt nodded. “i get it.”

the two of you turned around and started walking back to your car. in the end, you didn’t walk very far so you were standing next to your vehicle in a matter of minutes.

“thank you for agreeing to talk,” matt said, his hands shoved deep in his pocket.

“thanks for telling me the truth.”

matt opened your door and braced his forearm on the roof of your car while you got in. “i’ll see you around?” he asked.

you smiled. “don’t be a stranger, tkachuk.”

he laughed and knocked on the roof of your car before shutting the door. you watched him in your rearview mirror as you drove away. all the years you were together, there were only a few times you could remember walking away from him.

the drive home was quiet, you were stewing on what you'd say to your dad when you got back. you were pissed, upset, angry.

but most importantly, you were in agony.

the man you loved your whole life let you hate him for six months so you wouldn't hate your dad. he let you make him into a villain so you had the support of your parents.

and maybe it was that thought process that had you throwing your car in park and storming up to your childhood home and all but slamming the front door wide open.

your mom and dad were sitting in the living room, neither of them interacting with the other in any meaningful way. no, this wasn’t the tkachuk house. your parents weren’t in love anymore, they were content with the idea of not having to find anyone else.

“matt was gonna propose to me?” you asked, chest already heaving from the anger coursing through your body. your eyes were on fire, if looks could kill and such.

your dad, to his credit, managed to catch onto what you were talking about immediately and put his book down.

but your mom cut in. “sweetheart, what're you—”

“ask him,” you interrupted, but didn't spare her a single glance, something you'd apologize for later. “go ahead, ask him what i’m talking about. ask dad why matt broke up with me out of nowhere.”

“honey....” your dad started. you waited for him to continue, to justify something, to say it was a huge misunderstanding, but he said nothing.

“alan, what is she talking about?”

you still wouldn't look at your mom. your eyes were fixed on the figure of your father who sat still in his recliner. “i went to talk to matt today, get some closure, figure out what went wrong with us. dad convinced matthew that i would feel shackled to him if he proposed, if we got married. he planted this idea in matt’s head that he wouldn’t be enough to keep me happy.”

that seemed to be enough to get your dad speaking. “you have so much potential, honey, i didn’t want to see it wasted chasing him around.”

you rolled your eyes. “i was happy to do it. he was everything to me.”

“and you should’ve been everything. you should want to be great, you should want to be a great painter, you should want to accomplish great things.” your dad gestured between himself and your mother. “you think we want this for you? to choose a partner just based on love? what happens when that love runs out? what happens when you get married, have kids, and matthew get bored on the road? what then?”

your stomach twisted at the thought. “matt would never.”

“maybe not, honey. but you have to understand, i was looking out for you.”

you scoffed before you could stop yourself. “looking out for me? you literally held me while i sobbed a few weeks ago and told me that maybe matt had changed when you knew damn well the reason things had ended.” you ran a hand down your face and laughed bitterly. “do you wanna know the worst part about this? you let me believe the worst things about the man who has loved me most of my life.

“you let me hate the man who wanted nothing more than to protect my happiness. and then you had me going on absolute bullshit pep talks to myself every morning where i’d tell myself i’m fine, that matthew brendan tkachuk was just a guy i dated for almost half my life and that there are plenty of fish in the sea to choose from. and that i’m a woman, a strong, intelligent, and capable woman that any man would be lucky to have! but i went on a date the other night and something really awful almost happened, but matt was there and he made sure i was okay. he took my vitriol in stride, he protected me without ruining my life, something you can’t seem to do.”

your dad, to his credit took your spewing words with a straight face. he didn’t interrupt you once.

your shoulders were heaving with the force of breaths you were taking to get all those words out. your heart was pounding in your chest. you were angry. angry. angry.

until it dissipated at the look on your parents’ faces.

tears replaced the anger quite quickly.

“i get you were trying to protect me, but you should’ve seen the look on his face when he told me. dad, i love you, but you damn near ruined my life.”

your father nodded, a shattered look on his face. “sweetheart i—if i’d known—” he cleared his throat. “i’m sorry. i thought i was doing right by you, trying to keep you from making the same mistakes.”

“and what mistakes are those? falling in love? getting married to the person you loved? getting to live the rest of your life together?”

“falling complacent,” your mother said. “getting too comfortable, becoming roommates instead of lovers.” your mother was picking at her nail beds, refusing to look at either of you. “i was not a part of the conversation your dad had with matthew, but i will not lie and say that your behavior didn’t concern me, because it did.” your mother held a hand up when you opened your mouth. “you didn’t have any ambition! you were sacrificing your dreams for him, aimlessly following him.”

“mom—”

“i have found myself lost before, lost in this marriage, lost in motherhood, lost in my job. i did not want that for you, neither of us did.” your mother stood from her seat on the couch and walked towards you. she placed her hand on your cheek. “i know you love him, and maybe he’s your person, but we did not,” she cleared her throat, “i did not want you to grow up regretting and resenting matt because you were too young to know what you wanted.”

your mom’s thumb traced your cheekbone. she stared you down with the eyes that matched your own. “do you remember when you were younger, you would draw these beautiful pieces with your colored pencils?”

you nodded.

“you don’t draw anymore, sweetheart. your art supplies are still in a box in the attic where they have been since you've moved back home. from my viewpoint, i see the little girl i raised chasing the man she loves and neglecting herself in the process. you’ve spent most of your life following matthew, but what about you? when will it be your turn?”

your bottom lip wobbled.

you were nine years old again, showing matt the self portrait you did and watching his face light up.

“you should draw me sometime!” he said.

and you did. all through middle school, high school, undergrad, all of it was matt matt matt matt matt. even if it wasn’t his face, even if it wasn’t hockey related, it was matt. the colors swirling together, the passion beneath the oils, all of it reflecting him.

you were so pissed at your dad, for telling matt what he did, but you were pissed at yourself as well, for neglecting who you were.

who were you anyway?

the fight left you pretty soon after your mother’s words were spoken. the hard truth of them still lingered in the air.

you went to bed that night and stared at the ceiling, trying to imagine what you would paint if the surface was a canvas instead.

before

you would’ve never picked up your phone had you known what was waiting on the other side of it.

the day started off simple enough. your apartment was a mess, usually at that time of year, it would be covered in christmas decorations and presents would be wrapped under the tree you and matt picked out from a tree farm. this time, there were boxes strewn about the room in anticipation of the move you’d be making to florida in just a few weeks. the plan was you’d fly into st. louis and have all your belongings that you didn’t need to survive, shipped to your new home in florida.

you were in the middle of packing up the last of your summer clothes into a box when matt called. it felt like a flip had been switched, because any exhaustion that was set deep in your bones from the work week disappeared the second you saw his contact photo on your lock screen.

“hey!” you said, smile so wide, your cheeks ached. “how’re you doing?”

“hey,” he replied, but his voice sounded off.

“everything okay?” you asked. “i saw the game last night, i’m sorry about the loss.”

“don’t worry about it.”

“oh,” you said. “well i have most of the apartment packed up, just need to put the rest of my clothes in my suitcases. i’ve already arranged the rest of our things to be shipped and—”

“i don't think you should move to florida.”

all the words in the world and all you could say was “what?”

matt sighed over the other end of the phone. “i didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“but you still meant to say it?”

“look, this isn’t easy for me to admit but, i don’t think it’s a good idea for you to move to florida. i don't even think it’s a good idea to keep this going.”

“keep what going?”

he sighed again. “this, us, our relationship. i just don’t think it’s working.”

well that was news to you.

you swallowed, your hands were shaking. it wasn’t until you couldn’t see straight that you realized you were crying.

“since when? i thought we were fine! what did i miss? what can i do to fix this?”

the battle of alberta had nothing on matt’s silence ringing through the phone. with each passing second, you felt the hope of repairing and fixing your relationship dwindle.

“i don’t think there’s anything to fix.”

the world had stopped spinning, even as he continued on, talking about the next steps you'd need to take, how he would continue to pay the lease, he’d cover the moving expenses to switch destinations of your things.

it all made you want to vomit.

how could he speak about the logistics of your break up when you felt like you couldn’t get past the actual reality of your breakup? your world was caving in and he seemed fine.

at the end of the call, he apologized. “i’m sorry,” he said.

all you could say was “okay.”

five minutes, your phone said when you looked at the call log.

matthew tkachuk had ruined your life in five fucking minutes.

after

frankie had to be the weirdest boss you ever had. when you called him and said you needed a few days off to sort things out in your personal life, he jumped at the chance to tell you to take a day or two off immediately.

“i can’t pay you for those days, but if it means you feel better, go ahead and take off. we’ll be fine.”

which is how you ended up sitting in your room for eight hours, staring at a blank canvas.

your hands shook anytime you reached for a paintbrush. what if it was the wrong brush? the wrong color? what if it was bad? ugly? what if you hated it?

you'd communicated those same thoughts to simone over the phone when you called on her lunch break, trying to keep yourself from crying over a blank canvas.

“it’s gonna be difficult at first,” she started. “but you have to start somewhere, even if it’s just a dot in the middle of the canvas.”

and you'd repeated her words in your head, yet you couldn’t force yourself to do anything about it. this was supposed to be about you, yet everything you were doing reminded you of him. it was the particular blue you used to mix together to represent his eyes. it was the red from calgary. it was the yellow that reminded you of the t-shirt you wore when matt first kissed you.

what would you even paint? the living room of your first shared apartment? saddledome? this was supposed to be about you, so why did you keep wanting to make it about matt? what was wrong with you? your parents were right, you lost yourself in trying to be the most supportive girlfriend around.

the second day didn’t produce much results either and when you finally went back to work, you looked and felt like you hadn’t rested at all.

“that bad, huh?” frankie asked.

“i didn't think it’d be that hard to paint, it’s literally never been that hard before.”

“you gotta just let it go.” when he didn't say anything else, you gestured for him to continue. “stop expecting it to be a masterpiece or to be meaningful, art is about you, not perfection.”

“but—”

frankie held a hand up, just like your mother had. “when you're here, it’s about doing right by the painting, the art itself. when you create though, it’s about doing right by you.”

you floated through your workday, your fingers itched to do something more than scraping dirt and grime off the back of a canvas. they longed for the oil based paint to stick to them. they longed for the cramping in your hand that came from holding a brush too long.

but you started.

you turned on some classical music and started.

you weren’t even sure what you were painting until you were staring back at the ice rink in front of you, empty, just like you were feeling. you should’ve known it would've had something to do with ice.

maybe it was foolish to believe you could completely get rid of matt in one painting. you'd known him longer than you hadn’t. but frankie’s words kept echoing in your head.

it’s about doing right by you.

so instead of painting matt or his number, or the curls on top of his head, you painted something else entirely. blurred figures raced past a lone frame standing completely still. the slumped shoulders of the person in stuck in one place, the lack of proper equipment, no ice skates, no sweater.

after days of painting and plotting and painting and waiting, it was finished. an ice rink with a person completely stationary while life moves around her.

it wasn’t your best piece, but it was your most honest.

it was like a dam had been broken because you couldn’t stop painting the silly little pieces of your feelings. you were losing space in your bedroom, and your phone had been neglected for two weeks.

now, you still responded to texts in the bridesmaid group chat, and you texted simone frequently. but your brain was taken up by this reawakened, once dormant, passion of yours. it was all you could think about.

your fingers were practically permanently stained with paint. you hadn’t changed out of your paint clothes all weekend, living in the spandex and one of your dad’s old t-shirts. the past few days, you’d been a hermit, only leaving the house to go to work. and while you weren’t completely anti social, you weren’t going out of your way to get in contact with people.

your parents were out on a rare date night while you were up in your room adding little details to your painting. the music playing through your phone’s speakers had lulled you into another world. you were all but lost to reality.

thump.

you paused, brush poised over the canvas. you listened again for the sound but heard nothing. so you continued.

thump thump.

you glanced at the window just in time to see a rock hit it. before you could stop yourself, you sighed and chuckled.

you felt like you were in high school again.

when you opened your window, sure enough matt was standing outside with a handful of stones in his hands. “you busy?” he asked.

at the sight of his boyish smile, your heart leapt. “what’re you doing here?”

he shrugged. “just wanted to see you.”

be careful, your head warned you. he’s not yours anymore.

but your heart didn’t give a shit. try as hard as you might, you were almost positive you’d love matt the rest of your life. “you couldn’t knock on the door?”

he shrugged again. “i tried, you didn’t hear me.” he shifted on his feet. “so are you busy?”

you glanced back at the painting you'd been obsessing over all day and decided you could leave it for a little while. “gimme a sec.”

very quickly, you cleaned up your art supplies before you ran down the stairs. you snagged your keys out of the basket by the door and locked the front door behind you.

matt had moved off your lawn and was now propped up against the passenger door of his car. “wanna go for a drive?”

how could you deny him anything when he looked so happy to see you?

“you’ve been busy,” he said as soon as he pulled out of the driveway. you did your best not to pay attention to how good his arm looked behind your head rest as he backed out into the street.

“how do you figure?”

matt put the car in drive, but before he pulled away, he gestured to your forehead. “you have paint, everywhere.” you could feel the heat crawl up your neck as you opened the sun visor to look in the mirror. sure enough, streaks of paint covered your cheeks. matt reached over and shut it with one hand. “stop it,” he said. “you look great.”

“even with the paint?”

“especially with the paint. you look happy again.” a beat passed. “are you?”

you thought about it for a moment. a few weeks ago, you were in the trenches, suffocating in the unknown, drawing in questions that had no answers. and while you were still single, even as you sat in the passenger seat of the man that you still loved, you felt capable. you felt like you could handle life. no longer were you floating, waiting for a strong breeze to blow you away from your reality. you still might depend on having wind in your sails, but at least you were a boat with a steering wheel instead of a helium balloon.

“i think i’m getting there. i’m not as angry anymore, i’m painting again.” you gestured to your face. “though you could probably tell.

“what have you been painting?”

how could you explain it? how could you possibly articulate that while you were still searching for what it meant to be you, you had somehow uncovered fragments of yourself that you’d lost along the way?

“myself.”

matt smiled, his eyes crinkled in the corners. “that’s what i like to hear. you enjoying it?”

“more than i thought i would, once i got over the fear.”

“fear? what were you scared of?”

you picked at the dirt under your fingernails. “not being good enough.”

matt made a sound between a scoff and a snicker, like the words coming out of your mouth were so incredibly stupid it was both alarming and hilarious. “are you fucking with me? you’re the most talented person i know!”

you rolled your eyes before you could stop yourself. “you play with some of the best athletes in the world—”

“and none of them could hold a candle to you.” he braked easily when you came up to a red light.

and you weren’t sure why you said what you said next, maybe it was the intimacy of the environment or maybe, when it came down to it, you wanted matt to hear all your updates first.

“i think i’m gonna apply to more grad schools again. i talked to frankie, he gave me some information and said he’d write as many recommendations as i needed.”

you wanted to be brave and look at matthew, you wanted to see his reaction in real time. but you couldn’t bring yourself to. whether that was because the moment felt too intimate for eye contact between exes or the you were afraid you'd see real time disappointment, you weren’t sure.

“is that something you wanna do?” his voice was soft. you could feel his eyes on your profile.

that was a question you'd asked yourself over and over again. was it something you were legitimately interested in? or were you like every twenty-something who applies for grad school when they don't know what else to do?

“i think there's just as much beauty in restoring as there is in creating.” in a split second, you decided you could be brave, so you looked back at him. “i don’t think i should have to choose between one of the other.

matt nodded, his hands white against the steering wheel. “do you think everything deserves a chance at restoration?” he asked, his blue eyes filled with a sincerity only he could replicate.

“i think anything can be fixed if someone cares enough to try.”

feeling bold, you spared him a glance from the corner of your eye. matt had his head down for a brief moment, a small smile on his lips.

there were words that hung in the air like the car freshener on matt’s rearview mirror, yet neither of you spoke them. both of you were more than content to bask in the silence rather than answer unasked questions that you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

before

matt wasn’t at school that day, and you were the reason why. he hardly ever missed, even with his busy hockey schedule and his dad’s games, chantal always made sure to have her kids in school. if they weren’t rich, you’d assume his parents had the same thought process your grandparents did: they weren’t forking out all this money just for their kids to be absent all the time.

which brought you back to your original thought.

matt wasn’t at school.

and you were the reason.

well. that wasn’t entirely true. matt’s decisions were his own, even if the two of you were in fifth grade, you were both mature enough to own your mistakes.

and he made a big one.

it started at the beginning of the school year when jared, a new kid, started bothering you during class. you'd done what your parents had taught you and told the teacher. but mrs. wright just looked at you with a condescending smile and said:

“aw honey, he just has a crush on you!”

you were met with the same excuse each time you told her.

you’d tried to keep it to yourself, done your best to get over it, but he was too forward. on monday, he teased the way your uniform looked, which was a sore subject because your parents couldn’t afford to buy you a new uniform and your grandparents were being stingy with money in an effort to manipulate your mother. you were old enough to start recognizing that now.

on tuesday, jared criticized your doodles on a sheet of scrap paper, saying they looked childish. wednesday was no better, he snickered and pointed at you when you messed up a note playing hot cross buns on your recorder. thursday was when things took a left turn.

jared hadn't been at school for long to fully understand the dynamic between you and matt, not like the other kids did. he was smart enough to approach you when matt wasn’t around for the most part. maybe it was the confidence of the lack of punishment and accountability from your teacher and school administration that made him bold enough to tug on your hair and push you down during recess right in front of matthew.

you didn’t have enough time to shed a tear before matt was on jared.

to put it simply, physically fighting someone was grounds for suspension. it probably should’ve been a longer suspension had you and your parents not said jared had been harassing you for weeks now with no consequences.additionally, the amount of money the tkachuks sewed into the school probably helped lessen his punishment too.

“you shouldn’t have beat him up,” you said. the two of you were sitting on the back porch of matt’s house. originally, you expected matt to be grounded from seeing you as a punishment, but given the context, keith and chantal both said it would've been unfair.

matt shrugged. “he should’ve kept his hands to himself.” his words sounded similar to the ones you heard from his father earlier that day when you and matthew were sitting outside the principal’s office. 

“mr. tkachuk, we do not condone violence at this school.”

“but you do condone harassment? bullying? my son was doing what your administration failed to do, and that’s protect his best friend.”

“i don't like it when you're in trouble.”

“and i don’t like seeing some jerk hurt you.” matt nudged your knee with his own. “besides, i’ll be back on monday. ‘s not like i was expelled.”

“just don’t make it a habit.”

“no promises,” he said. “i’ll always fight for you.”

after

the wedding approached faster than you thought it would. you spent the last seven months dreading emma and brady’s big day, scared of what seeing matt in a tux would do to your heart. originally, you didn't think you could handle it, you never thought you'd actually get to the wedding day and not want to cancel last minute.

but now you were standing in the bridal suite adding finishing touches to your makeup in the vanity feeling every bit of happiness for emma that you were faking just months ago.

life was starting to turn around for you. just last week, frankie had helped you finish your applications to some grad programs in art restoration and conservation. you were holding out hope for nyu, but didn’t want to get your hopes up.

“how’re you feeling?” taryn came up behind you where you were lined up in preparation to walk . 

“ready for some wine and the reception,” you answered honestly. “i’m so excited.” and you were telling the truth for once. your smile felt genuine.

“matt will be excited to see you,” she said. “you look so pretty.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile from forming on your lips. “oh hush, this isn’t about us, not even remotely close.”

taryn rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders. “maybe...” she trailed off before the wedding planner was moving her into position.

your hands shook as you held the bouquet. lily, one of the other bridesmaids looked back at you and mouthed “are you okay?” when you nodded and gave her a shaky smile, she turned around.

you weren’t nervous for a good reason, but walking in front of crowds always scared you. what if you tripped? what if the heel of your shoe broke? what if what if what—

but then it was your turn to walk down the aisle and every anxious thought went quiet the second you saw matthew.

it really wasn’t fair, how he could put you at ease so easily, without even saying a single word. how his blue eyes would meet yours and the racing of your heart would beat for a different reason. sure, there were moments where you were anxious around him, around the feelings that came with dating for ten years, but the truth was you never felt more safe than you did in his arms.

you kept your eyes locked on his as you walked down the aisle. not once did you stumble or fall. though, you nearly laughed out loud when he winked at you. a flush creeped into your cheeks when he smirked. you’d known him most of your life and you were still reduced to a school girl whenever he looked at you. when you made it to the end, you took your spot next to lily, taryn eventually took the spot next to you.

personally, you loved weddings. you cried every time. so obviously you were wiping tears with brady when emma walked down the aisle. it was almost surreal, watching the boy you knew as when he was eight years old was now marrying the love of his life. when did you grow up? when did that happen?

you met matt’s eyes over brady’s shoulder. in another life, it would've been you two getting married. the very thought sent an ache through your chest, but it didn't hurt the way it did a few months ago, hell, even a few weeks ago.

sure, you might not have ended up with matt, but you reconciled. he would still be in your life, even if it wasn't in the same capacity as before. that thought used to be debilitating, now you were just thankful he was around at all.

the crowd cheered as brady kissed emma. you could barely see them through the tears. you managed to wipe most of them away in time to walk back down the aisle. you were supposed to be linking arms and walking back down the aisle with quinn hughes. so when matt was standing there and holding his arm out, you almost stumbled back out of sheer confusion. in a haze, you took his arm.

“you weren’t supposed to walk me,” you said just loud enough for him to hear.

matt scoffed and pulled you a little closer. “like i was letting hughes walk you back down the aisle. that’s my job.”

“you messed up the order.”

he shrugged like the idea didn't bother him in the slightest. “brady will get over it, if he even notices.” the two of you had just walked down the aisle when you went to pull away, but his arm tightened around yours. “you look beautiful,” he said before releasing your arm and walking off.

it felt like you were stuck, rooted where you were standing, until the wedding planner ushered you along to take photos.

you were floating through the pictures, only barely remembering to smile and look at the camera. matt’s words floated around in your head in an endless loop. 

when it was time for dinner, you entered with quinn like you were supposed to (and to matt’s chagrin). brady and emma did not want to confuse the dj who was announcing everyone. quinn indulged your excitement and twirled you under his arm as the two of you walked out. there was a huge smile on your face at the sheer fun of it all, a smile that didn't dissipate until you were both seated with the rest of the wedding party.

you were happily chatting with quinn, asking him about how his girlfriend was, and eating your dinner when emma’s maid of honor stood up and started her speech. to be quite frank, you knew it was a beautiful nod to her friendship with emma, but you weren’t fully paying attention, too enraptured with the food and wine in front of you. though, you did clap where you were supposed to and laughed when everyone else did.

it wasn’t until matt stood up to give his speech that you were dialed in. and maybe that made you a horrible person.

you knew matt well enough to know he didn't prepare a speech, not like the maid of honor did. he'd told you so once brady and emma got engaged.

“are you not gonna write your speech down?”

“nope,’ he said, popping the p.

“but he's your brother.”

“the only one who is getting a planned and fleshed out speech is you, when i propose and when we get married. everyone else gets the improvised speech.”

so you weren't surprised when he didn’t have a slip of paper in his hand like the maid of honor.

“thank you all for coming to celebrate the marriage of brady and emma with us. i know it means a lot to them, to see the support they have all around,” he began. “i’ve known brady his whole life, obviously. so i know better than most that he’s a menace to society. both on and off the rink. but seeing him with you, emma, well you’ve brought the little bit of good out in him.” the crowd chuckled at the slight, you even cracked a smile, especially when brady flipped him off.

“love is the best thing this world has to offer,” he continues. “who are we without it? what is life without it?” matt looked around the room until his eyes settled on you, locked in. “falling in love is, dare i say, better than the game itself. once you experience it, there is no game that could hold a candle to the feeling. i’ve found it, and i’m happy that you, brady and emma, found it too. just hold onto it, don’t let it go. not when it gets hard, especially not when things look bad. it’s those times you hold on tighter.” 

maybe it was the lighting, but his eyes looked a little misty.

matt cleared his throat. “so here’s to the bride and groom, may you have nothing but good years ahead.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat and clapped along with everyone else. but matt’s eyes never left yours. you could feel his gaze on your face even as you talked to quinn. but he was on the other side of the table closer to brady.

it wasn’t until the dancing started that he even approached you.

outkast’s hey ya blasted over the speakers when matt found you. his hand immediately slid into yours as he tugged you closer.

“great speech!” you shouted over the music. “did you prepare it beforehand?”

matt spun you around. “you know i didn’t. i’m saving prepared speeches for special occasions.”

you expected the answer but played dumb anyway. “your brother’s wedding not a big enough occasion?”

he scoffed, like the very idea was offensive. “not even remotely close. only the love of my life deserves the written speeches.” he pulled you a little closer. your stomach twisted at the thought of him falling in love with someone else, but it didn't hurt the way it would've months ago. “but considering i broke up with her before i could propose, that’s not happening any time soon.”

your heart lurched in your chest, yet you felt yourself stepping back. “matt....”

he sighed like he knew what you were going to say. “i know we need to talk, and that this isn't the time, but can i just dance with you tonight? like nothing changed?”

and in the end, you wouldn’t be able to deny him anything.

you allowed him to spin you around and hold you close when the music slowed down. you allowed yourself to pretend all of it was real. you allowed yourself to live in this fictitious world where new jersey was the happiest place on earth simply because you had matt. the last seven months hadn't happened, you were still together, your future was certain, and maybe one of these days, he'd get down on one knee and ask for forever.

you played pretend even when the night was coming to a close. even when you were all waving goodbye to emma and brady. even when you gathering your things, matt was there, holding your bags for you and walking you to the car you rented.

“when do you fly back to st. louis?” he asked.

“tomorrow. i have work on monday.”

he grimaced. “frankie wouldn't let you off?”

you rolled your eyes and smiled. “some of us don't make millions of dollars and need to pay our bills, matt.”

“right,” he said. “forgot about that.” he cleared his throat and stepped closer to you. “do you think we could get coffee when i get back in town? i really think we should talk.”

you reached out and took his hand in yours. “just let me know when you’re back.”

and he did. days later when you were back at work on your lunch break, you got a text from him. before you could stop yourself, a smile lit up your face.

matty:

just landed, when are you free?

the two of you met at a park not too far from your homes, deciding that you two needed privacy to talk and sitting in a coffee shop where matt’s face was well known wasn’t ideal. it felt like it used to, with the two of you walking side by side, matt walking a little slower to match your pace. your arms occasionally brushed.

“everything okay?” you asked when the silence started to make you anxious.

matt looked at you and smiled. “yeah,” he said. “just wanted to talk.”

“about what?”

“us. what happens next.” when you didn't say anything, he continued. “i wanted to apologize—”

“there’s nothing to apologize for, matt. i understand—”

“but i should’ve just communicated with you instead of letting my insecurity and the pressure get to me. i should’ve done better.”

you bumped your shoulder into his bicep. “you did what you thought was best, i can’t blame you for that.”

matt ran a hand down his face and sighed. “i wish you wouldn’t be so understanding,” he said. “i wish you'd just say that what i did sucked.”

“but i get it—”

“i get that you get it, but i need you to be honest with me.”

“okay,” you said. “i’ll be honest. i hated every single rose you've ever gotten me, but i was too afraid to say anything because you looked so happy to give them to me. and i know it’s what your dad would bring home to your mother after roadies. i hated that you never remembered my coffee order, you changed it every single time, but i accepted it and tried it because i saw how proud of yourself you were and how much it meant to you that you got me a drink. and i hated that you ended things over a phone call with no explanation. i hated that i spent seven months agonizing over what i did wrong.” you swallowed the emotion bubbling up. “but i understand why you did it, and in another life, i might have done the same.”

matt’s hand brushed yours. you thought he was going to leave it at that, a gentle touch, but he grabbed your hand and interlocked your fingers “i wish you would've told me you hated roses.”

you smiled and shrugged, squeezing his hand in yours. “seeing how happy you were outweighed the hatred for roses. it was the thought that counted.”

“so what is your favorite flower?”

“red anemones.”

matt pulled out his phone and typed something into his notes app. “what’s your coffee order?” when you told him, he typed something else into the note. “i do care about that stuff,” he said. “i didn't mean to seem dismissive.”

“you remembered the important stuff like anniversaries and my birthday. you remembered that i hate driving in snow, you used to pick me up from school every time there was more than an inch on the ground.” you squeezed his hand again so he'd look at you. “you weren’t a shit boyfriend for forgetting the little things, matt. in fact, you were a really good boyfriend until you broke up with me.”

he didn’t say anything for a moment, choosing to bask in the summer sounds of the park. “do you think we could try again one day?”

it was a question you'd asked yourself multiple times since the conversation where you found out the truth behind the break up that nearly ruined you. could you two do it again? do it right this time? there was no way to know.

“i don’t know.”

a beat passed. “would you want to?”

would you? being with matt was all that you dreamed about but would you want to risk the heartbreak again? would you want to take the chance that it wouldn’t work out a second time?

yes. it was an easy yes.

heartbreak was inevitable, but you wouldn’t want your heart to be broken by anyone but matt.

but you could love him and also want to prioritize yourself and your wants and desires. you had a plan for your future that didn’t involve him for once. maybe he’d be there years later, but there was no guarantee. if you got into grad school, you wouldn’t be moving to florida. and while long distance had worked before, there was no assurance that things would again.

so you said “maybe one day,” and gave him a smile.

“one day,” he replied. “in the meantime, can we be friends?”

one more time, you squeezed his hand, tugging him a little closer, his arm bumping into your shoulder. “i’ll always be your friend at the very least, from here on out.”

after what looked like a moment of hesitation, matt pulled you closer and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

after

when matt flew back to florida for the season, you fully expected him to stop talking to you. with distance being a factor, it was easy for you to assume he'd text whenever he wasn't tired or out partying.

but he texted you every waking and unoccupied minute of his day. in all honesty, you were worse at replying than he was. everything felt like high school again, in the days leading up to your first kiss.

you felt like you got your best friend back.

it started with him telling you about his day, asking about yours, and evolved into him telling you a joke he'd heard that day, a tiktok that reminded him of you, remembering your schedule. 

god your heart leapt every time he texted you. it was pathetic, but you loved it.

you loved him. 

it wasn’t a scary thought, you’d never stopped loving him even after the breakup. to act like you ever stopped was crazy.

and when you got into grad school? he was the first person you called.

it was nearly a year after he ended things, and there you were, calling him on the phone. you waited for him to pick up, for a moment, you were scared he wouldn’t answer. the phone kept ringing and your anxiety built up as the seconds went on. maybe he was busy or his phone was in the other room. or worst case scenario, he was ignoring your call, out with someone else. what if you annoyed him? what if—

“hey!” his cheery voice sounded over the phone. “everything okay? you usually don't call at...” he trailed off. “...3pm?”

you could’ve cried at the sound of his voice, the relief hitting you all at once. “i got in,” you replied.

“what—” he choked. “you got in? nyu’s program?”

you nodded before realizing he couldn't see you, stunned at the news and the fact that he immediately knew what you were talking about. “i did.”

he sighed over the phone. “god, baby, i’m so proud of you.” your heart swooped at the pet name, no longer angering you like it did months ago. “what did your parents say?”

“i haven’t told them yet,” you said. “i just found out.”

he paused. “and you called me.” he didn’t bother asking.

“and i called you. maybe that makes me a horrible daughter for not telling my literal parents but i just wanted to tell you first.”

he paused again. “why?”

your stomach twisted with nerves, your hands felt sweaty. “you know why.”

“i need to hear you say it. tell me there’s still hope.”

“matty—” you cut yourself off with a shaky inhale. “matt, we shouldn't.”

“why not? i love you, i’m sorry but i love you. i fucked up and lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me because i was scared.”

“matt, we shouldn’t be having this conversation over the phone...”

“then i’ll book a flight.”

you closed your eyes and smiled. this was a side of matt that you knew, someone who’d drop anything for someone he loved or the game he adored.

“you have games and practice,” you reminded him.

you could practically hear the scowl through the receiver. “we play the blues in a week. can we talk about this then? i’ll take you out to dinner.”

“you usually get dinner with your parents.”

matt scoffed through the phone. “i see them enough, i want to be with you.”

you smiled because you just couldn't help yourself. “we’ll talk about this in a week,” you agreed.

matt whooped over the phone, the glee evident in his tone. “i’m really proud of you,” he said, changing the subject back to the original point of the call. “grad school is a big deal. you worked so hard to get here.”

“thank you, matty.”

“i’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

the week leading up to the panthers vs. blues game was agonizing. you kept thinking of his confession over the phone:

i love you, i’m sorry. i love you, i’m sorry. i love you.

his words rattled around in your head like the cartoon birds that would fly over a concussed cartoon character.

five more days.

then four.

then three.

two.

tomorrow.

today.

matt bought you tickets to the game, one that you offered to simone, but she declined saying she “wouldn't want to be in the way.” when you told her she wouldn't, that you would like her company, she laughed.

“honey,” she said. “there is no one else in the room whenever you and matt are around each other.”

you’d flushed when she said that, but didn't deny it.

your mother and father were seated in the living room when you came bounding down the stands to head out to the game. “you going to see him?” she asked. there was a fond look in her eye, one that only brightened when you smiled and nodded. “have so much fun, honey.”

you looked to see if your dad would say something, but he just nodded and went back to reading his book. it was fine, you were past caring what other people thought of you. in a month, you'd be moving to new york for school and out this cycle of mediocrity and settling. you bid your parents goodbye and left.

there was no time to waste when you got to the arena. you immediately made your way to the seat matt paid for and waited. you were a bit outnumbered in your panthers jersey (again, courtesy of matt), but he was no stranger to the st. louis crowd.

you were sitting close enough to the glass to be spotted when matt came out for warm ups. he tossed a few pucks to the kids next to you, but his eyes never left yours. the smile on his face eased the anxiety about coming, the anxiety about the conversation you'd have afterwards.

seeing him beam at only you? the world could've stopped turning and you didn't think you'd even care.

the game, unfortunately, did not turn out in their favor. with a 4-1 loss, you were two seconds away from asking matt to reschedule. the conversation both of you needed to have shouldn’t be done when he was coming off a loss.

nevertheless, your phone vibrated with a text.

matty:

where’d you park?

you replied with the vague location of your vehicle and headed that direction. you weren’t sure how he beat you out there, but he was propped against your driver’s side door like it was a luxury car and not the used vehicle you’d had since you were sixteen.

he held his hand out, and to anyone who didn’t know any better, they might think he wanted to hold your hand. but you tossed him your keys and he caught them mid air. 

matt unlocked the car and threw his bag in your backseat while you got in the passenger seat.

“where are we going?”

“waffle house.”

suddenly, you were seventeen again, sitting shotgun in matt’s car at 2 am when neither of you could sleep. sometimes, you'd go to a 24 hour drive through and sit in the parking lot to eat. but your favorite moments were spent in a waffle house booth that had a half ass wipe down and food prepared by people who’d rather be anywhere else.

it was the best food you’d ever had every single time.

the bonus was that no one asked any questions, no one batted an eye at the son of keith tkachuk sitting in a waffle house at 2 am.

matt knew the drive by heart and minutes later, you were entering the establishment, trying not to slip on the greasy floors.

both of you slid into a booth and picked up the menus.

“didn’t think you could eat this stuff, with your diet and what not.”

matt shrugged. “it’s the holiday season, i’m allowed a few cheat days?”

you quirked a brow, remembering a time in calgary where you fixed dinners based on the diet given to you by the team nutritionist once she realized matt didn’t and couldn't cook. “i didn’t think that was allowed.”

“what they don't know won't kill ‘em.” he gestured to the menu. “what do you want?”

“you mean you don’t remember?” you teased.

matt rolled his eyes and gestured to the waiter. he recited both of your orders with an alarming amount of accuracy, given the fact the two of you hadn’t eaten at a waffle house in over a year.

“what?” he asked when he saw you looking after the server walked away.

“how do you remember that but not my coffee order?”

he blushed a little. “i feel like your coffee order changed with the seasons—”

“because they have seasonal drinks, matthew!” you exclaimed with a laugh.

“your waffle house order is simpler, easier for me to remember.”

you rolled your eyes with a smile on your face but accepted his answer. you sipped at your water and stared at him. “so what did you want to talk about?”

matt flinched back, like the sudden change in topic slapped him in the face. “what? you didn’t wanna wait until we got our food?”

you shrugged. “i’d feel less anxious if we just talked about it now.”

matt reached across the table and grabbed your hand in his own. it felt like being twenty-two again, living with matthew in calgary and holding hands under the table when you hung out with him teammates. his palm fit perfectly in your own.

“you don’t need to be anxious, i’m not gonna pressure you into anything.”

“i just wanna know what's’s going on in your head.”

matt’s thumb stroked the back of your hand. “you are all that’s in my head right now,” he confessed. “i get it, i fucked up by breaking up with you a year ago. and if i could go back, i would in a heartbeat. i would tell you everything i told you a week ago. that i love you and i’m sorry. i’m sorry that my insecurities got in the way, that i made a decision for you and in doing so, made you doubt my love for you.”

he continued. “but if you hear nothing else, hear me when i say i love you from the deepest part of my soul. if you asked me to give up the game and move with you to new york, if you asked me to request a trade to the fucking rangers, i’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“i would never ask you to do that,” you whispered.

“i know, but i would. because i love you, and if you’d let me, i’d like to be with you again. i’d like to marry you like i should’ve years ago. i’d like to have babies with you, however many you want. i wanna grow old and live in a house big enough to fit all of our grandkids for holidays. i want all of that with you,” he said. “what do you want?”

there were so many things you could say, so many things you wanted to say. but with watery eyes, and a heart that raced faster than a treadmill at full speed, you couldn’t vocalize any of it.

your mind raced with thoughts.

i wanna know the nicknames you gave your teammates. i want to use that specific combination of paints to make your eye color. i want to stick my cold feet between your legs and laugh when you pull away.  i want my birthday to be your passcode again.

“i want you” you said, unable to say anything more. it was a miracle you even got those words out, your voice cracked on every syllable.

“yeah?” he asked, eyes shining with hope.

you nodded. matt immediately leaned over the table and kissed you, you met him halfway. and it felt like every question you ever had was answered. it felt like the best possible ending of your favorite tv series.

he felt like home, more than st. louis ever could. more than calgary.

when you both pulled back, neither of you could keep the smiles off your faces. “what do you say to doing long distance again? just while i’m in school,” you proposed.

matt’s smile could’ve lit the entire city. 

“baby, for you? i’d do anything.”

[sammylkcho]

I read the request where the reader is Sebastian spouse hear me out though what if the reader said oh you sound like my husband but they don't recognize him since he's a fish and they show off the ring hear me out

Oh god, this was requested almost two weeks ago… I’m SO SORRY for the wait dear anom!

I gotta say, I wrote this and I’m not thrilled with the final result,sorry if it sucks..

Warnings/Notes: small angst, mentions of hallucinations but nothing real, signs of a growing anxiety attack, anxiety overwhelming the poor reader

Original request

"The name’s Sebastian, remember?" it reminded you of its name, sensing a hidden plea in its tone.

"… Yes, Sebastian." You repeated its name, finding it strange to utter the name of your deceased husband. It had been a long time since you said his name, and it felt good to say it; it brought you a kind of comfort for a few seconds.

You rubbed the back of your neck for a moment, pressing your lips into a thin line as the growing anxiety and discomfort began to take hold.

You felt the bluish gaze of the "creature" (you hated calling it that, but you didn’t know exactly how to categorize it) piercing into your soul, as if it were searching for something, analyzing every piece to ensure not a single detail was missed. It was strange, both having it in front of you and being alone together.

When had your companions left? You didn’t know, and it probably wasn’t worth knowing; they had likely abandoned you since you were holding them back and had been a burden to them.

Those thoughts pulled you away from reality, making you completely forget Sebastian's presence and how intimidating he was with his great height.

He could tell that you were no longer grounded, having always known the times when your thoughts swallowed you alive due to your anxiety and the “what-ifs.” It was one of the first things he learned about you as he got to know you.

Both of you had questions about each other. Especially him, who knew it was you despite how disheveled and tired you looked, but in your case, you still didn’t know that the person in front of you was the same one you’d considered dead for the past 12 years.

How had you ended up here? Had you been blamed for a crime that wasn’t yours? Just as they had likely done to him?

Those thoughts made Sebastian’s blood boil. He felt so powerless for not having been able to do anything to prevent you from coming to a place like this, for having to suffer the consequences of someone else. So many things he regretted, even though only a few minutes had passed since your presence appeared before him like an angel.

There were so many things yet so little he could do.

His goal now would be to try to make you realize that it was him and not just a simple coincidence in appearance and voice.

He would make you realize and know that it was him; Sebastian Solace, your husband.

He clicked his tongue loudly to catch your attention (which he succeeded in doing with the sudden noise) and thus fulfill the objective he had in mind.

"Want to take a look? Got some things you might find useful on your endeavor." He asked you with a tone that would be too unusual for any expendable that had passed through his shop. That sarcastic, humorous, and hateful tone was always present in him, but with you, there was a hint of sweetness.

"Eh.. Sure." You responded, somewhat bewildered. Your feet carried you automatically to his tail once more, looking among the few items left on the straps he had tied along his tail.

You felt his gaze on you once again; this time, you didn’t try to find a reason or what he was trying to see or accomplish by looking at you. The sensation was uncomfortable yet comforting. Strange.

"Anything that catches your eye?" he asked you again, offering a smile filled with sharp teeth like those of a shark. A chill ran down your body from head to toe, as the more you looked, the sharper they seemed.

"You sound like my husband." You said abruptly, without having processed the words that had already slipped past your tongue.

You realized what you had said just before a wave of shame and melancholy completely invaded your body. You hadn’t wanted to say that, much less mention the fact that you had referred to your deceased husband. DEAD.

How was it possible that you saw your husband reflected in that person (fish)? It was utterly embarrassing, surely, for having made a comparison with someone he didn’t even know, he would bring you to a certain death or something even worse-

"What a coincidence, babe." He interrupted your line of thought, pulling your attention back to him.

Sebastian only called you that way when he was joking with you.

Your eyes moved to the ring that seemed to shine faintly in the soft light filling the room, noticing it had vague lines and curves that seemed to form something. It was eerily similar to your ring—the same one you had placed on Sebastian's finger, and he had placed on yours on your wedding day.

Why did the universe want to torture you like this?

He was dead; you had to accept it. He wasn’t in that same room with you, and much less alive. He wasn’t—

"What was your name again?" Your mouth betrayed you once more, speaking words that hadn’t even been approved by your mind. All of this was wrong, very wrong.

"Sebastian," he said, revealing more of the ring that had caught your attention. "Sebastian Solace."

After those words, the world seemed to stop for a few moments. The only sound you could hear was your own breathing, which was growing increasingly erratic. Denying to yourself that this all had to be a mere coincidence, a cruel trick of your mind, the accumulated stress seemed to be taking its toll, or perhaps the many sleepless hours and the insomnia had led to hallucinations.

The strong stench of fish and sea salt invaded your nostrils, forcing you to focus on what was right in front of you.

It was him; he wasn’t overstepping or invading your boundaries, always respecting them to have a signal or confirmation that he could proceed.

"You're dead…" you said in a low, broken voice, not noticing when you had started to cry.

"Yeah… you could say that, but you revived a part of me when you came here."

[letoasai]

dp x dc Chronos

An idea that’s probably been touched on before but well.. once more! 

~

It had begun with a meltdown. Being a fifteen year old was tough. High school was the time in your life where you were picking up life skills without even knowing it. Social skills, study habits, responsibilities stacked on responsibilities. It all seemed rather unfair when their brains weren’t done developing yet or… whatever Jazz had been telling him one afternoon. 

The point was, being a teenager wasn’t all making memories and messing around. It was hard. Add on dying to that work load and things got complicated. Add on a ghost portal that allowed ghosts to come and go as they pleased when you were the only one that could safely stop them and things got stressful. 

Parents that were trying to kill you…went without saying. 

Become a king of a realm by fifteen, and see how you handle the sudden workload. Danny had been holding up fine, until he wasn’t. Until a particularly loud boom in his parents lab from whatever their latest torture invention was cause a tremor of fear to shoot up his spine. In an instant, panic was sparked. He wanted to leave, he thought about it often, but how could he just leave Amity Park behind? Would it be better outside of his parents house? Could he live alone?

The fear latched onto his core, and not being able to relax in his own haunt was apparently counterproductive to a healthy, happy halfa. 

Before dying, Danny hadn’t been familiar with panic attacks, now, they weren’t entirely uncommon. One moment he would be overthinking in his bedroom, the next he’d be on his bed or the floor curled up in a ball. Tears flowing and throat clogged, he would sob under the weight of his responsibilities in silence. He doubted his parents would notice, but he hated to worry his sister. Being quiet was a must.

It was one of these episodes that had led to Clockwork appearing in his room, lifting Danny up into his arms like a child without even a weak protest. A post-it was left for Jazz so she wouldn’t worry and the king was returned to the Infinite Realm for a night. 

That was the start of Danny spending time in Clockwork’s citadel any time he was feeling overwhelmed. Being outside of time, he was given the time to relax, sleep, or study. It lessened the burdens of trying to be a normal high school student, hero, and king all at once, or at least gave him a safe place to crash. 

At least once a week, Danny made his way into Clockwork’s lair, long since allowed to enter on a whim unless expressly told otherwise for a day or two. For all Danny was king, he did his best not to interrupt Clockwork’s work and he knew beings from other dimensions popped in from time to time. 

If Clockwork didn’t want him meeting them, he was going to take his opinion to heart and make himself scarce. 

Danny wasn’t sure why he got the privilege to hide behind the ghost of time but he didn’t shun the offer. Any chance to get some sleep was a good one when he had ghosts like Skulker or Johnny waking him up at three in the morning with their bullshit. 

Danny floated over a sofa, backpack forgotten on the floor and books hovering around him. The crown that hovered above his head kept going back and forth between being covered by ice or green flame. It seemed to do what it wanted like a living creature. 

Danny had his own room in the citadel now but he was positive the sofa was put in Clockwork’s viewing room just for him. 

He slept there more often than not. 

“Hey Clockwork.” Danny called. He’d be ignored if Clockwork was deep into peering into the past for future, but would otherwise get an answer. “Can i ask you a question?” 

In the time it took Clockwork to turn to face Danny, his age had altered subtly, five or ten years younger than middle aged. 

Danny had always thought Clockwork had three ages he shifted between. His child form, middle aged adult, and old man. The longer Danny stayed in the citadel though, he learned that wasn’t the case. 

He’d seen Clockwork go from an old man, to a man about twenty. He’d slowly shift younger and younger through his teens until he stopped in his child form. Danny had seen the opposite too. Clockwork as a young preteen growing into an adult in the span of a breath. Dark circles would appear under his eyes and laugh lines etched into his face of a much older man but Danny wouldn’t have called that form elderly. 

It was fascinating. 

“What can i do for you, Majesty?” Clockwork asked, a hint of a smile already curing his lips. He likely already had the conversation they were about to have memorized. 

Danny groaned. “Can’t you just call me Danny? Majesty is so… so…” 

“Accurate?” 

“Bleh…” Danny muttered, slowly floating until he was upside, but his book turned with him so he could continue to look at it. 

Clockwork only laughed at him, that soft noise that said he was amused at Danny’s plight, but Danny was far from offended by it. 

“You’re the master of time, right, but were you the god of time too?” He pointed at his textbook, crown on top of his head doing slow flips. “Chronos?” 

“Ah,” Clockwork chuckled, arms crossing over his chest. His de-aging had abruptly stopped and he instead started growing older again. “Indeed. We are the same.” 

“Really?” Danny perked up and went back to skimming his book while rotating in the air. The edges of his wispy hair were looking like smoke. “So you were an ancient Greek god? That’s cool.” 

“Yes and no.” Clockwork said with a shrug. “Time is a funny thing. I was there, of course but more in the capacity of their stories. I predate the Greeks.” 

“Huh,” Danny hummed, growing quiet again as he read a little more but Clockwork didn’t return to his parade viewing. He instead waited for Danny to continue. “So wait, you were one of the first… titans.” he read. “Cool.” 

“Yes.” Clockwork agreed, “That was a very long time ago now.” 

Danny quirked a brow at a line in the book and glanced back at Clockwork. “‘Destructive and all-devouring’, huh?” 

“I was young.” Clockwork agreed, not bothering to deny it. “We all have that phase.” 

“Uh huh… How did this rule of yours coincide with Pariah Dark?” 

Clockwork grew older still, his beard starting to grow. He also relaxed into a floating/sitting position. “They didn’t really. Much of what you are reading is a mortal human interpretation. If you think stories in your high school become exaggerated, you should hear the true origin stories of the ancients sometime.” 

Danny was snickering. “I’d actually like that but none of them like talking about stuff like that. Did you really eat your kids?”

“Something to that effect. I’m afraid i was not a very good father. I was at a very different place in my life then.” Clockwork said. He didn’t sound particularly proud of it, but he didn’t look broken- hearted either. 

Danny didn’t quite get it. Clockwork had basically been his ghost guardian long before he’d even known that was a thing. He probably would have just assumed Clockwork would make a good dad. Then again, being a ‘present’ dad was probably tough for the god of ‘time’. 

“Hm,” Danny hummed and flipped the page while floating right side up again. He rubbed at his face, the constellation freckles across his cheeks twinkling. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” Danny muttered, clearly reading through a paragraph. 

Clockwork’s shoulders were shaking with quiet laughter. It wasn’t usually this easy to coax Danny into doing his homework. 

“You died. Zeus kills you. Did Zeus kill you? Your son?” 

“Yes.” 

There was a moment where Danny’s face warped into something like grief before it disappeared, suspicion forming in it’s place. “Did you know that was gonna happen? Did you let Zeus kill you to maintain a good time line? Did you know you’d just be the ghost master of time?” 

Clockwork just smiled and shrugged. 

“Ancients!” Danny cursed. “Are you serious? You were looking that far ahead already? Even then? That’s insane.” 

“I have not confirmed or denied anything. On the other hand, we all have our talents.” Clockwork mused. “Does this knowledge entertain you?” 

“I mean, it’s cool.” Danny muttered again. Clockwork wasn’t usually so chatty but he was more likely to tell him past things opposed to future things.

He went back to reading and Clockwork went back to his viewing clocks. It was only a few minutes before Danny spoke again. 

“The Elysian Islands. Are those in the Infinity Realm?” Danny asked, “They sound familiar.” 

“Yes.” Clockwork mused. “And before you ask, Zeus didn’t actually have anything to do with them and Pandora would get huffy at the mere mention of it.” 

“Are other gods in the infinite Realm?” 

“Some, but not many of the ones in your book there.” Clockwork said, twirling the staff in his hand. Danny could tell he was doing something along the time stream but Danny had no idea what and he didn’t ask. He was not looking to get sent on another timeline errand. “There are other places where they reside. Some even living. Those in the realm however, are your subjects.” 

“Oh.” Danny muttered, getting the same sour look he got when he was reminded he was king. 

Clockwork lowered his staff, done with his chore. He hovered closer to Danny now, ruffling his hair and dislodging his crown which spun around of its own accord on top of Danny’s head. The sentient accessory very much attached to its new wearer. “If there are any in the Infinite Realm who find you lacking, you need not pay them any mind. Pandora, Fright Knight, or Frostbite would be more than happy to deal with them. You have every right to be here.” 

Danny just grunted. Peer pressure was hard enough at school. It was worse in the Infinite Realm. “I’m not looking for fights.” 

“You do not need to prove yourself. You’ve done that enough. You must merely be you to succeed. You are balance, and balance in life will find you soon enough.” 

“Awe, you haven’t said anything cryptic to me all day. I was starting to get worried.” Danny muttered, a smile tugging. 

“I would never make you go without.” Clockwork said with a fond roll of his eyes. He was so old now that his beard nearly touched the floor. 

“Ancients forbid.” Danny muttered, snagging his book out of the air. “Wait, did you say there were some living? Wait.” His mind whirled to a previous school assignment. “Isn’t Wonder Woman’s dad supposed to be Zeus. Is Wonder Woman your granddaughter?” 

Clockwork just smiled and ruffled his hair again. “Don’t you have homework to finish?” 

“Oh Ancients! She is. Classic deflecting. Holy crap.” 

He let himself drop onto the sofa, over dramatic with his realization. “You have ties to the Justice League!” 

Clockwork did sigh that time. “A charming notion, i suppose.” 

“You’ve as good as admitted it!” Danny grinned, pleased to have learned something new. Had it been anyone else, he might have thought he learned something Clockwork didn’t want him to know. Clockwork knew everything though and only let slip what he wanted to. 

“You are a hero yourself, Danny. No need to be enamored with the League.” Clockwork turned to go back to work, eyes scanning screens before him. 

“Yeah but they’re real heroes.” Danny grumbled, opening his book again. Clockwork’s lack of response meant he wasn’t going to answer that line of thinking. “Fine…” 

The two of them were left in a comfortable silence for a few minutes more until Danny broke it himself. Even though Clockwork knew it was coming, he still jumped when Danny gasped harshly from excitement. 

“Saturn! You’re Saturn! Saturn is like, one of my top three favorite planets!” It was the pure joy on Danny’s face that had Clockwork laughing this time. 

“You would have a top three.” 

“Of course i do!” 

The door had been flung open for him to now talk about space and precisely why he had so many favorite planets specifically. Clockwork let him, happy to let one of his obsessions take its course. Talks about space banished all thoughts of the Justice League and ‘real heroes’. 

Danny knew he’d have to take his history books with a grain of salt. Eaten children or no...Clockwork had always been a good guardian to him. ~~ I might add on to this...  It’s almost like Danny was reading the same wiki page on Chronos that i was... lol 

Part 2  and Part 3 

[random-stardew-panda]

||•~The Worst Thing~•||

Harvey (SDV) x reader(female)

Warnings: Language, Violence, Death, Nightmares

Word count: 2.6k

Helloooo everyone! New blog dedicated to my rekindled Stardew Valley obsession. First fic obviously must go to my beloved doctor, you will be seeing him here a lot. I hope you enjoy and hope you don't hold my terrible grammar and probably terrible spelling against me 😅 I have no excuse. English is all I speak and I do it terribly.

====================================

====================================

You’ve had an exhausting day, it was the end of the season and you had been fishing all day for the last fish you needed for the community centre and the ones you needed just were not biting.

“Finally!!” You squealed as you reeled up the last fish you needed, sighing loudly you stretched your limbs and groaned as your joints crack softly. It was so much later than you realised, it was already dark out.

You wandered through the town square, eyelids drooping, trying to stay awake when you passed the calendar and help wanted board and your eyes shot open as you rushed over and let your finger scroll over the date and you curse yourself. You had accepted a quest from Clint a week ago to kill 50 Slimes you hadn’t gotten around to finishing it, too busy trying to finish these fishing bundles, today was the last day left! You let your forehead fall against the wall as you look down at your watch, 7pm, you could finish and get home in time surely? You only had 7 left to kill, easy work.

“Harvey is always upset when I get home late…oh but I promised Clint. Uhg…one more late night won’t kill him, I’ll just give him some extra kisses. He can’t stay mad at me.” You giggled and slowly pushed yourself off of the wall and started making your way to the mountains and down into the caves. The trail to the caves felt extra long tonight, you splashed your face in the lake trying to wake yourself up a bit before you entered the caves.

You slash at the monsters in the cave, stumbling at the force behind your swing, you were panting and clinging to the wall of the cave. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all…You felt so, so tired…No. No! You only had one more left. You glance down at your watch, 12am…damn it really was getting late.

“One left. One more. I got this…I got this…” You mumble to yourself, repeating the sentiment that you could do this as you start climbing down the ladder, using the inside of your elbow, squeezing the ladder rungs between your forearm and bicep to help support your weary muscles as you climb down, shaking a little bit, two steps from the bottom you lose your footing and slip off the ladder.

“AH!” Your body hits the floor and your head bounces off the ground, you squeeze your eyes shut and lift a shaky hand to your bleeding head, the room feels like it was spinning. “Ow…” you lay there flat on your back on the ground for a moment staring up at the ceiling as a ringing filled your ears, it was at this point you hear the familiar squelching sound of slimes approaching.

With great effort and loud groans you push yourself up onto your hands and knees and are met with 5 slimes, using your sword to push yourself up to your feet you lunge at one of them slashing it in half, your vision is spinning and everything is blurry and out of focus you were cursing yourself, this had been a horrible idea. With every slash at the creatures you staggered trying to catch yourself, every hit from the monsters was causing worse aches in your muscles, cuts and bruises littered your body and you were getting to a point where you had embedded your sword into the ground using it to keep yourself upright leaning on it more than actually attacking the monsters, you desperately tried to kick the slimes away and with the hand that wasn’t white knuckling your sword you tried to swat away the insects cutting into your flesh with their sharp claws. The few slimes left leap up attacking you, smashing into your chest the sudden force knocks you back to the floor, you desperately try to reach out and grab your sword, your hand sliding down your sword slices your palm open as you topple over your head once again hitting the hard ground of the cave, you fall unconscious.

====================================

Linus had seen the farmer go into the mines hours ago but he hadn't seen her leave yet, the farmer always took the path past his tent through the back of the mountains to get back to the farm late at night. He was getting anxious it was almost 2am he had a terrible feeling something was wrong. Linus walked over to the adventures guild and started pounding on the door. After several moments the door was yanked open and a very disgruntled Marlon was standing infront of Linus.

“What?!” Marlon growls a deep frown set in his features.

“I think the Farmer is in trouble. She is still in the mines…”

Marlon groans and turns back into the guild, leaving the door open as he reaches over the counter and pulls his sword up into his arms. He walks out of the guild, pushing past Linus, slamming the door behind him.

“That kid is going to be the death of me…let's go then.” Marlon sheaths his sword and rubs his forehead.

The two men head into the mines, every level was littered with dead creatures and exposed ladders, the farmer had definitely been here. They made their way down more levels of the mines.

“Oh Yoba!!” Linus yells as they round a corner and are met with an unconscious farmer being smothered by creatures, cave insects, slimes, even a stray cave crab was slashing at their defenceless body.

“Well fuck.” Marlon unsheathed his sword and starts slicing at all the creatures making quick work of them. “Get the farmer!!” He yells at Linus as he brings his sword down piercings the crab.

Linus grabs the farmer under her arms and starts dragging her body towards the ladder leaving a trail of blood in the dirt. Marlon quickly grabs the farmers sword off the ground and rushes over to the ladder. Marlon grabs the farmers legs and they quickly climb up to a level with an elevator. As soon as Marlon saw the elevator he grabs the farmer off of Linus and starts carrying her by himself.

“Is she okay? She doesn't look like she is breathing!” Linus is fussing over the unconscious farmer the entire time they are in the elevator. A loud ding sounds and the doors open to the main level of the mines. Marlon sighs with relief.

“Linus. Go get Robin to call the farmhouse. Call Harvey. Get him to the clinic. Tell him Y/n needs him NOW!”

Linus rushes out of the mines sprinting towards Robins house. Marlon follows behind him carrying the limp unconscious body of the farmer in his arms. Marlon kept glancing down at the farmers face he was trying so desperately not to show how alarmed he was. Everyone else was going to freak out someone needed to be to be calm and reasonable but tears filled his eyes as he thought about how injured his dear friend was, was she going to make it…? He shook his head and kept heading out the mountains. No, he couldn’t think like that, he was going to get them to the clinic in time and Harvey was going to save her.

Marlon was rushing past Robins house, the door was wide open, he was the chaos inside, Linus and Robin were practically screaming into the phone as they saw Marlon and the injured farmer rush past the house down towards the town. Maru was pushing past everyone in the hallway, shoving them out of the way as she rushed out to catch up to Marlon.

====================================

*RINGGG RIIINGGG RINGG*

Harvey groaned and rolled over in bed to hold his wife and was suddenly aware of the absence of the second person in his bed he frowned and rubbed his eyes gently tapping around on the bed trying to find her.

*RINGGG RINGGG*

Harvey groans and flings his hand over to the nightstand and blindly feels around until the phone is in his hands.

“Hello?” His voice was gruff and tired.

“Harvey you need to get to the clinic now!!” He was met with Robins frantic voice and he sat up finally starting to wake up.

“Robin? Calm down tell me what is happening?”

“HARVEY NOW YOU NEED TO GO NOW. IT Y/N!” Robin sounded like she was about to burst into tears.

Harvey’s heart stopped, he looked up at the clock on the wall, 2am? She wasn’t home…? His mind was running through every single injury she had ever gotten. Every operation he has had to preform. Every single time he scolded her for staying out so late, for being so reckless. A horrible feeling of dread was starting to choke him.

“I’m leaving right now.” Harvey hung up the phone and flung the blankets of off him.

Harvey was practically flying out of the house, stumbling over his own feet as he grabbed a coat off the hanger and slid his shoes on without even tying the laces. He slammed the door behind him so hard it shook the wall slightly as he ran out of the farmhouse.

Harvey was sprinting towards the town square, towards his clinic, he was fumbling with the keys in his coat pocket. The cold night air was making his tears feel cold. By the time he reached the clinic he was out of breath and trying his hardest not to breakdown but his mind was racing with every horrible outcome. What kind of shape would she be in when she got here? He was pacing around the clinic preparing everything he thought he might need.

It took 10 minutes for Marlon to reach the clinic, Maru rushed in first and held the door open, the sound of the bell dinging caused Harvey to stop dead in his tracks and stare teary eyed at Maru, who looked equally distressed.

“H…Harvey…she isn’t breathing…” Maru has tears in her eyes.

Marlon entered the clinic holding the farmers limp body and he looked like he was about to start shaking and crying. Marlon places the farmer down on an examination table Harvey had already prepared. Harvey was looking wide eyed at Maru for a moment before he rushes over to the table and tries to take his wife’s pulse but he can’t find one, tears are streaming down his face as he stares at his wife, her bruised cut up body laying there in front of him. Maru was softly crying and Marlon was leaning in the corner of the room with an unreadable expression.

“No. No she isn’t…She can’t be.” Harvey climbs up on the table and starts doing CPR.

“Harvey.” Maru steps closer to him but he doesn’t stop, he leans down pressing his lips to his wife breathing air into her lungs.

“Wake up…wake up!” he is pushing down harder against her chest.

“Harvey.”

“NO! SHE IS OKAY. WAKE UP!” Tears are rolling off his cheeks as he keeps giving her chest compressions, leaning down trying desperately to force air into her lungs.

“HARVEY!” Maru yells at him with tears streaming down her face.

“NO SHE CAN’T BE. SHE…she can’t…” His compressions slow down.

“Harvey…” Maru puts a hand on his arm urging him to get down and he shoves her hand away.

He leans down collapsing onto his wife’s body and starts sobbing, he clings to her, wrapping his arms around her as tight as he can.

“Harvey…man you have to stop…” Marlon grabs Harvey’s shoulder and tries to pull him off.

“GET OFF OF ME!” Harvey sobs trying to shove Marlon away.

====================================

Harvey shoots straight up in bed he tried to scream it came out as a strangled wail his voice cracked, his eyes were filled with tears. He was gripping at his heaving chest, gasping desperately for breath. His eyes were darting around the room as he struggled to breathe.

“Harvey…?” You softly whisper as you sit up in bed and place a hand on his arm softly, looking up at him with sleepy eyes you find his hand covering his mouth as he sobs, wide eyed and straight ahead.

“Harvey?! Are you okay? Sweetheart what happened…what's wrong??” You sit up higher on the bed and place one hand on his chest and the other gently on his cheek rubbing your thumb softly over his face whipping away the tears that were streaming over his cheeks.

“H…Harvey..? What's wrong talk to me what happened..? Harvey darling…?” Your voice was shaking a little full of concern

He doesn't even speak as he jerks forward and wraps his arms around you pulling you tightly against his chest as he cries hard into your shoulder

“oh!…Harvey…” you wrap your arms around his head holding him against you, gently running your fingers through his hair softly scratching at his scalp “shhh….shh it's alright sweetheart…it's okay shhh I'm right here it's okay…” his grip on you tightened clinging to you like you were about to disappear, like his arms were the only thing holding you to the earth.

“You were gone…” his voice cracks as he whispers softly continuing to cry into the crook of your neck. “You were…gone and I couldn't save you. I couldn't…” he is gasping for air as he sobs

“hey...hey shhh breathe…breathe I'm right here. I'm right here okay? I'm not gone. I am right here, you have me in your arms, see?” You squeeze him a bit tighter before cupping both his cheeks and lifting his head in your hands so he can look into your eyes

“You were gone y/n…you were g…gone…” he is clinging to you tighter it was a bit uncomfortable but you didn't say anything “You were dea-” he gasps and more tears fill his eyes as he looks into your face “You were dead! You…you were dead in my arms and I couldn't do anything to save you. You were in the mines and I failed you and you were gone. You were gone and you weren't ever coming back.”

You are running your thumbs over his cheekbones as you lean forward and softly kiss him.

“Harvey. I am right here. You need to take a breath and calm down, you are getting yourself all worked up. I am right here. I am right here. Take a breath honey…” you press another more chaste kiss to his lips before pulling him back into a tight hug.

“You're safe..?” He whispers quietly.

“I'm safe.”

“…You aren't going to leave…?”

“Harvey sweetheart. I'm right here and I'm never leaving you okay? Never. I'm staying here with you forever.”

“…P…promise…?” He sniffles quietly as his tears slowly stop.

“Harvey look at me. Hey look at me. I promise you. I promise I am not leaving. I know I'm a little…uh…reckless in the mines sometimes and I'm so sorry I didn't know it was upsetting you this much. I'll be more careful. I promise. Come back to sleep…” you softly rub his chest “I promise I'll be here in the morning too.” You kiss his cheek as he pulls you down onto his chest, holding you tight against his body, he sighs deeply as you snuggle up with him.

“I love you so much My Love…you mean the world to me.” Harvey sighs quietly as he squeezes you tighter. You kiss his cheek a few times softly rubbing your nose against his jaw.

“I love you Harvey. Always.” You softly trace invisible patterns over his chest as he slowly drifts off to sleep, you stay up a while after he falls asleep making sure he sleeps soundly. His arm draps loosely over you even as he sleeps he wants to feel you close to him.

“Goodnight Harvey...” You kiss him one last time, smiling softly and put your head down on his chest letting yourself finally fall back asleep.

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You can check out my other non stardew related stories at @random-writing-panda

[villainbait]

Collective Warmth

Pairing: Sylus x MC / fem!reader Rating: T | Teen Tags: fluff, kissing, whimsy, flirting, playful sylus, playful mc, date, picnic, yearning if you squint Summary: It's been weeks and finally you and Sylus are able to steal a moment for an afternoon rendezvous. Word Count: 550~

The two of you had made plans to have a small rendezvous in the park. It had been weeks since you had laid eyes on Sylus, work keeping you busy as usual and Sylus was off doing whatever it is he wanted. When you spotted him already sprawled out on a comfortable looking quilt in the grass, your heart leapt into your throat and your steps quickened to meet him. You’d never sacrifice honesty at the cost of your pride, but you had missed him. 

It was an easygoing afternoon, the waning sun bouncing to each one of the clouds above the two of you. What you chatted about was a secret kept only by the two of you, and both of your heads were bowed together intimately as Sylus feeds you the confections he had brought back from his latest trip. You forced him to eat one and he obliged you, his lips twisting when it was sour. 

“You know I dislike sour things,” he replied tartly, but he noted the way your eyes were full of mischief. You had done it on purpose and he scooped a dollop of the lemon icing from another treat, trying to smudge it on the tip of your nose. Yet he was too lazy and you were too quick, dodging his attack with a playful outcry.

“Hey!” You protested, popping to your feet with ease. “I’ll pay you back for that.”

“I didn’t even do anything, sweetie. Why are you so nervous?” Sylus drawled indolently, and he sat up straight as a sudden idea occurred to him; his lips curling with deceptive warmth. 

“Shall we play a game?” 

“Sure,” you replied, your eyes already sparkling with mischief. Before he could propose the game or state any rules, you smudged the lemon icing onto his cheek instead, your expression lit up with childish delight. "You're it!" You sprinted in the opposite direction across the greenery of the park towards the shade of a nearby tree. It wasn’t quite the game Sylus had had in mind, but he played along. Of course, you didn't make it far and you felt the tug of his evol dragging you back. Sylus’s echoing laughter was lost to the wind and distant rustling of trees dancing in the wind as he swept you up into his arms. Your stumbling protests are interrupted by the press of his warm lips against yours, claiming his prize for winning your little game. His kiss is playful, his lips grazing across yours in a way that leaves you breathless, but greedy for more.

You whine softly when he doesn’t immediately kiss you again and he chuckles against your lips at your impatience, but Sylus gives in, kissing you deeply as he urges you to wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you back to your blanket and sits down with you in his lap, pulling your bodies flush against one another. It was like you were the only two people in the park, the rest of the world drowned out by the collective pounding of your heartbeats and his lips against yours. Sylus’s expression is lazy with desire when he pulls back and he stares at you quietly; waiting. You realize he's waiting for you and that whatever you want from him is yours.

Will you take what he’s so willing to offer?

When your hand curls around the back of his neck to pull him down for another kiss, the lingering smirk on his lips says you’ve made the correct choice. 

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 3- Easier Said Than Done

Summary: Frankie's been by your side through some of the hardest moments in your life. Three years have gone by, and now there's no one you want to see less when you find yourself at your lowest.

Word Count: 4.1K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Angst, yearning, mentions of death, sick parent, descriptions of a panic attack, hospitals, teenage Frankie's back at it again making it impossible for us to hate him!!

A/N: Hello, my name is Madeline and I am unable to stop writing gut wrenching angst and yearning. (Hi, Madeline). Maybe one of these days I'll stop sobbing like an idiot when I write, but I fear that day may not be coming any time soon

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

You, Spring of 2006, Age 17

Most people say it’s the smell of hospitals they can’t stand. For you, it’s the noise. The constant chaos of voices, monitors, sirens, carts clattering as they roll across the never ending linoleum floor drives you insane. Even when it’s quiet, it’s still never silent. There’s always an ever present reminder looming in the distance to not get too comfortable. The inevitable fear that something could go wrong, and have you wishing that all you had to listen to was the ambiance of continual pandemonium. 

That’s why it’s such a relief when you hear the quiet ping of your cell phone resting on the edge of your chair. It’s enough to drown out everything else for a little while. 

Frankie :)))))) 

Hey where r u?

Game starts soon and I cant find u 

Katie and Morgan said they havent seen u either 

R u ok?   

You

Yeah I’m ok. 

Dad passed out and hit his head. Mom wasn’t home so I had to take him to the ER. 

Called Coach K in the ambulance to tell her I won’t be there. 

It’s times like these that it takes everything in you to remind yourself that missing big events to keep your dad alive is better than going to big events without him being here. But when you’re decked head to toe in your soccer uniform, sitting on the edge of your seat in a crowded emergency room instead of getting ready to start the last game of your senior year, it’s hard not to feel a little bitter about it. 

You read back over Frankie’s texts as you wait for his response, doing the quick math in your brain before frantically typing back. 

You

Wait, didn’t you have to work tonight? Are you at the field? 

Frankie :)))))) 

Called off work weeks ago 

U really think I would miss ur last game? Cmon Kenz 

Guess its not a surprise anymore. Surprise! lol 

You hope the nurse passing by doesn’t notice the way you’re grinning like an idiot at your phone, biting down on your bottom lip to keep your smile from growing so wide it’ll hurt your cheeks. You re-read the last three texts over and over, your face growing warmer each time. You’re not sure why you’d expect anything less. It still never fails to make you feel like your heart is seconds away from bursting at the seams. 

Of course he came. 

So lost in your train of thought, you hadn’t seen a fourth text pop up across your screen, only the fifth text of “???” that preceded it. 

Frankie :)))))) 

R u at memorial or westwood hospital? 

??? 

You 

Memorial. Why? 

Frankie :)))))) 

Be there in 15 

You 

Frankie you don’t have to do that 

Frankie :)))))) 

2 L8! Already leaving! See u soon! 

The tears welling in your eyes were most definitely ones of relief, joy even, that Frankie cared enough to attempt to make it to a soccer game you weren’t even at, let alone forgo a night’s worth of pay to drive himself to the hospital to see you. 

Your momentary excitement comes to a sudden stop as onslaught of bodies rush into your room to examine your dad. You’re quick to realize you’ve once again been caught up in a stampede where you’re nothing but another person in the way. An invisible presences that means nothing to anyone in this room. It makes the once blissful wetness welling in the corners of your eyes start to sting with a vengeance. 

But you’ve come very quickly to learn that crying doesn’t help anyone, especially when you’re not the one dying. 

You try not to let it hurt when your mom doesn’t even acknowledge the fact you’re sporting the jersey of the team you were supposed to start playing with twenty minutes ago, like you had brought your dad to the hospital in your uniform because that and your cleats were the easiest thing to throw on before you called 911. It’s even harder to try not to scream at the fact she barely pays your presence any mind, not even so much as a ‘thank you’ for getting your dad to the hospital in one piece. What’s the most painful is that you’re positive that she, or anyone else, even notices you’re gone when you slip out the door.

You’re here so often that the hospital staff don’t mind that you pace up and down the rows of the waiting room. Sure, they’ll be sending you a bill for the hole you’re burning through their carpet eventually, but that’s not today’s problem. 

Right now, part of the reason for your frantic pacing is to cool off some steam so you don’t say something you’ll regret about your dad’s cancer having the audacity to ruin the most important soccer game of your life to date. 

You’re also here so often, the hospital staff know Frankie. So much so, that your favorite receptionist, Cassandra, has more than definitely broken several hospital rules to let Frankie stick around long past visiting hours when you’ve needed it most. That’s why all she has to do is give you that look to break you from your vicious cycle of pacing to let you know when he’s arrived through the sliding glass doors of the front entrance. 

Most times, he at least makes it a few steps inside before you notice him. Tonight, he’s barely halfway through the door before you’re wrapping your arms around him in the tightest hug you have to muster. He pulls you in even tighter. 

It’s then that the reality of it all starts to set in. Your best friend had to drive to meet you at the hospital because he’s the only one that remembers you have a soccer game tonight. Your dad is in a cyclical pattern of slowly dying that leaves you feeling like a terrible person for even wishing things were different. You’ve spent the past nine of your seventeen years of life only knowing a world that revolves around cancer. For nine years, you’ve never complained that this is the way your life has been. Tonight, you’ve decided that the weight of the world is un-fucking-fair. 

Tonight, you’re not the one dying, but crying seems like the only reasonable thing left to do. 

You should be embarrassed by how loud your sobs are, how quick the damn breaks once your body finally lets you give into the pain. These are the kind of tears that make your whole body shake, the ones that make your chest hurt because you can’t catch your breath, gasping for air like some poor, lifeless fish, begging to be thrown back to the sea. 

Frankie’s seen you cry before, but not like this. You should care about how your tears are staining the fabric of his t-shirt, how he’s the only thing keeping you standing while your body feels like it’s about to give out underneath you. You hadn’t said a word to each other before you’d collapsed in his arms in a sobbing heap, but right now you don’t care. You can’t. 

You’re sure words are exchanged at some point as he practically carries you out to his truck, at least giving you the decency to finish crying without unwanted eyes in the waiting room glued to you, but right now, you can’t remember. 

You’re not sure how long it takes you to get back to the point of being able to breathe at a semi-normal pace, but something tells you that Frankie will hold you for as long as you need him too, crying or not.

He gently strokes your back, his thumb tracing over the fabric of your jersey as it draws small circles over and over, a sweet and simple dance of his fingers that steadies you just enough to keep from flying away. 

“It’s okay, Kenz. It’s okay.” It’s melodic the way Frankie coos it in your ear, like he’s trying to hush a fussy baby fighting sleep. It’ll take time, persistence and patience, but lucky for you, he’s got all three in spades. “I promise you’re okay. I’m here.” 

“This fucking sucks.” It’s not elegant or graceful, but it’s the truth, and right now, it’s all your brain can process. 

“I know it is, Kenzie. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not fair. I don’t wanna spend the rest of my life worrying that this is the last day I see him. I just want life to be normal. I just wanna go play my stupid fucking soccer game. It’s not fucking fair.” You ball your fists against Frankie’s chest, pounding into him like he’s the one responsible for your hurt and anger. He’s not the one you need to take it out on, but he’s all you have. You hope he knows it’s not his fault he’s become your emotional punching bag as he takes blow after blow, despite how weak your swings are. You’ve got no strength left to fight. 

“I know. It’s not fair. It’s not fair, MacKenzie.” 

He takes it all until you have nothing left to give. You’ve lost a game no one ever has a chance of winning. Defeat is the unwanted trophy life rewards you with, but Frankie stands at the podium with you. He’ll take the hits if it helps ease the blow. 

“Will you be okay if I’m gone for five minutes? Just five, I promise, and then I’ll be right back.” His question catches you off guard, breaking you from your agitated state, nodding your head just enough to give him the permission he needs to race back through the doors of the hospital as you climb into his passenger seat. 

His truck gives you the kind of familiarity the hospital doesn’t. It’s hard not to find irony in the fact you feel safer in his piece of junk car where the wheels could give out beneath you at any moment than you do in a building that is built for saving people’s lives. Maybe it’s because his truck is filled with the memories of moments in life that make you feel like things are going to be okay. 

With the way Frankie’s breathing as he jumps into the driver’s seat, it’s hard to think he’s not back in less than two minutes, rather than five. He doesn’t say a word to you as he cranks the ignition, only a little prayer under his breath that now’s not a time his engine has chosen to give out on him. He doesn’t let you ask any questions until you’re already on the road. 

“Frankie, what’s- Frankie what are you doing?” 

He’s got that crazed kind of look in his eyes he gets when he’s hellbent on making something happen. He always likes to say that you’re the stubborn one. It makes you wonder the last time he’s taken a good, hard look at himself in the mirror. 

“I’m taking you to your game.” 

He says it so matter of factly, like his response to nearly kidnapping you out of the Memorial Hospital parking lot shouldn’t warrant any questions. 

“What?! Frankie! I can’t just-” 

“The doctor in the room said he’s stable and he probably won’t be conscious for the next few hours anyways. Your mom said it’s fine. I’m not letting you miss out on this. You deserve to get to play, Kenz.” 

You’re not sure at that moment if you want to kiss him or slap him across the back of the head. Maybe it’s a little bit of both. 

“Frankie, I-” 

“I’ll turn around and take you back if you want me to, but I don’t think you want me to turn around.” 

God, maybe you do want to kiss him. 

“I hate you, Francisco, I hope you know that.” 

“I know. It’s okay, you play better when you’re angry, anyways.” 

It’s always the little smirk in the corner of his mouth. The one he makes when he knows he’s right. It’s the same smirk he makes when he greets you after you’ve scored two goals to help your team win the last game of your high school career. The same one he gives you when he buys you ice cream to celebrate with two scoops of cookie dough instead of one, because you won’t stop laughing at his stupid joke about your big appetite for winning. 

That night, you fall asleep on his couch, too tired to drive back to the hospital, too scared to sleep in your house alone. You’re not sure if you mean to doze off with your head resting against his thigh like some sort of makeshift pillow. It’s easiest just to blame it on the fact you’re too exhausted to get up. But as you close your eyes and drift to sleep, you’re almost sure that the only muscle Frankie dares to move is the one that pulls the line of his lips into that same smirk you’d rather die than live without. 

You, Present

You’re shocked your initial response to seeing Frankie Morales for the first time in three years wasn’t immediately slamming your front door in his face and telling him to fuck off. 

That’s what your body wanted you to do. For as badly as it did, your some part of your brain wouldn’t let you. 

It’s probably the same, stupid part of your brain that won’t let you stop staring at him, either. 

He looks good. Way better than you’d like him to. It doesn’t seem fair that he somehow manages to find a way to return home more handsome than when he left. It happens every damn time. You swear he does it on purpose. You don’t know how he could, but that’s what you tell yourself. It makes it easier to hate him. 

“I didn’t know you were home.” 

It’s probably the worst thing you could have said to break the awkward silence stewing between you, because you both know it’s a dirty lie. But at this point, you’re far past granting Frankie the privilege of being a part of the truth- you’ll give him your version of the truth that you want him to hear. You’re not letting him have the upper hand. 

“Yeah. I uh- got home this morning.” 

Good to know the best either of you could do was reduce your relationship down to nothing but lying. If that’s the game he wants to play, then so be it. 

“Drive was good?” 

“Yeah.” Lie. “You?” 

“Fine.” Lie. 

For as much as you know the lies hurt, it’s the curveball you hit him with next that you hope stings the worst. 

“I didn’t think you were gonna come.” 

Because that was the truth. The way his face drops tells you the guilt ridden punch you’ve socked him with hits exactly where you want it to. You want the truth to hurt more. You want it to hurt just as bad as the way his truth hurt you. 

“Of course I was gonna come.” 

It’s a poor attempt at a swing back. He showed up with a knife at your gun fight. He knows well enough you won’t show him any mercy. 

“Wouldn’t have been the first time you hadn’t shown up for something important, Frankie.” 

“Your dad’s fucking dying MacKenzie, what makes you think I wouldn’t be here?” 

“Well, he’s been dying for the past three years so I’m glad you’re deciding to show up when it’s convenient for you.” 

That one shuts him up real fucking fast. 

His jaw ticks as he takes a deep breath, staring up at the sky like there’s something written in the clouds that will give him instructions on what to say next. There’s not much he could say at this point that would shock you, but Frankie never ceases to be full of surprises, whether you like it or not. 

“I’m- fuck- I’m sorry, Kenz. I’m sorry.” 

That shuts you up even quicker. 

It shuts you up because you know he’s not lying. The truth is buried in the way his voice breaks at the start of your name, the way the “K” trembles off his tongue and shakes in the back of his throat. 

Your heart is mangled in your chest, hearing him say the two words you’d never thought you’d get and realizing you can’t accept it. 

“Sometimes sorry isn’t enough, Frankie.” 

Neither of you are sure what to say. It’s tough to tell if the fight is over because Frankie’s stabbed you to death and you’ve unloaded every last bullet you had, or if you decided to put your weapons down and walk away before any casualties have occurred. While it’s hard to deny it’s the latter of the two options, at least the first one would have been the honorable way to go. 

“Honey, is that Frankie at the door? Let him in, MacKenzie, don’t make him stand out there!” 

If there’s one thing you can always count on your mom for, it's that she’ll never fail to have impeccable timing, for better or worse.  

You don’t intend for the sigh you let out to be as loud as it is, but it certainly makes it clear to Frankie you aren’t happy about obliging to your mom’s request. You expect him to pass you like you don’t exist, entering your house to greet the two of the three family members who still care about him enough to not burn a hole through his chest every time they look at him, but he doesn’t. He waits for your okay, frozen on the porch until the subtle shrug of your shoulders signals you’ve given him the all clear to pass. He wants to know you’ll at least let him through unscathed for now. 

You follow behind him as he enters your house, trying to ignore the fact you’re entranced by the dark brown curls that still tickle the nape of his neck as he walks, or how the width of his shoulders nearly stretch from one end of the door frame to the other. You’re starting to regret not letting him follow you in  instead. 

You nearly bump into him with how quick he is to freeze once he sees the state of your living room. In the past few weeks, it’s made a terrible transformation from the space you once knew to a makeshift hospital room. The hospice workers had crowded your house with beds, oxygen tanks, and a wheelchair your dad refuses to sit in, an endless puzzle of enough supplies to let your father die in his own home, rather than the cold, sterile wasteland of the nearest hospital. 

You’d been able to ease yourself into your dad’s decline. You’d watched the months leading up to now as his body became weaker and sicker, reducing down to nothing but bones and deep, dark set eyes. You were a first hand witness to how cancer had greedily sucked every ounce of life he had left in him, taking and taking until he had nothing left to give. 

Last time Frankie saw your dad he was in remission. He looked good, healthy, even. That was three years ago. Frankie would have never imagined barely being able to recognize the man that was the closest thing to a real father he’d ever get. 

You want to scream at him that it’s his own damn fault he’s this shocked when he comes face to face with the shell of the man your dad used to be. But with the way you can practically see the guilt oozing out of Frankie with every step he takes towards the near lifeless body lying in the misplaced hospital bed in your living room, you can’t help but let your empathy get the best of you. 

“Hi Frankie, how are you? It’s so good to see you, honey.” 

Even though your mom knows you’re seconds away from wanting to dropkick Frankie off the face of the earth, there are few things she’ll ever let get in the way of her warm and welcoming demeanor. 

Frankie’s still borderline speechless as your mom grabs the tray of cookies he’s been awkwardly toting before she embraces him, arms still glued to his sides like he’s too afraid to move. The way she’s got him in the hug gives him no choice but to stare at the unsettling image of your dad over her shoulder, barely strong enough to turn his head to see what all the fuss is about. 

“H-hi, Mrs. Anderson. I’m okay. It’s good to see you, too.” 

“Is that my Frank the Tank? C’mere, kiddo. I was hopin’ I’d get to see you.” 

The past few weeks have made you shed enough tears to last a lifetime. Never once did you expect the thing that would make you cry the hardest out of everything you’d been through was hearing the long lost excitement in your dad’s voice upon Frankie’s return. 

It’s childish, the way you storm upstairs and slam your bedroom door behind you without a word, heat seething through your veins at the way your dad was so quick to forgive, welcoming Frankie back into his home like a day hadn’t passed, like he had been there right alongside him every step of the way through his descent. Your blood boils at the fact your father can’t be bothered to remember that Frankie had been nowhere to be found for three fucking years. Not a text, not a call, not even a “Frankie says hi!” through his mother four doors down. 

You can deal with the embarrassment of throwing a full blown temper tantrum later, but that’s more tolerable than spending another second in the same room as Frankie.  

“Well,” your dad huffs, his face grimaced with sarcasm as he looks back and forth between your mom, Frankie, and the empty presence you’d left behind, “that went well.” 

“Sorry about that, she’s um-” 

“She’s fine. Just stubborn.” Your dad grumbles, cutting off your mom with the best attempt he can make to raise his arm from the bed and wave her off. 

“No, I uh- it’s fine, I just- I should probably get going, don’t wanna take um- take up too much of your time.” Frankie’s heart sinks in the uncomfortable silence, quietly cursing himself for the mess he’s made. 

“It’s what, 8 o’clock in the morning? You got a bingo game at the senior center you need to get to, young man?” 

“No, I just-” 

“Perfect, no is the only word I needed to hear.” Your dad weakly smiles, gently patting the edge of the bed for Frankie to join him. 

Your heart winces hearing the heavy footsteps a floor below you from your bedroom, knowing the direction they’re heading is only further into your house and not back out the front door where you’d prefer him to be.

Thank goodness your dad has lost the ability to speak loud enough for you to hear the words that follow the thumps of Frankie’s feet. 

“Frankie, I’ve lived a very happy life. There are few things about it I’d change. But you know just as well as me that my daughter is the one who so lovingly inherited my stubbornness. Lucky for me, God knows I’m stubborn enough not to die until you and her figure this out. Unlucky for the both of you, that my time for stubbornness is starting to run thin.”

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

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@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[antsday]

under your thumb

[part two of this. inspired by @habken 's incredible scammers to lovers au. hope you enjoy!]

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I need him dead,” Izuku says, pacing intently. His bright red shoes squeak with every step he takes, and his eyes are wide with mania. “I genuinely need him dead.”

La Brava takes a long slurp of her soda fountain abomination - two pumps of every flavor of every soda, in one supersize cup - and gives him a knowing, pitying look. “Dynamight causing trouble again?”

He buries his face into his hands and makes a noise like a wounded animal. 

“Did he finally explode his laptop beyond repair or something?” La Brava asks. “Talk to me.”

“He asked me out on a date,” Izuku grits out, and La Brava’s eyes go wide. “A date. Lunch at a crepe shop? There’s no other way to take that.”

It wasn’t ever supposed to go this far. At first, loading Pro Hero Dynamight’s laptop with viruses was just a way to get back at him for being an asshole. But then he just- kept clicking them. And then he kept coming by, and revealing that he wasn’t so bad to talk to and then-

Izuku’s been played like a damn fiddle. All this time, he thought he was the one pulling the strings- only for Dynamight to sweep the rug out from under him in the most sudden possible way.

“Huh,” she says.  “Huh.”

And then, after a long pause:

“...Well. IT guys are in really high demand nowadays,” she says, stirring her drink with her straw. “With the economy, and all.” 

“This can’t happen. He’s a Pro-Hero,” Izuku stresses, grinding his teeth to stubs. “A Pro Hero who can’t go a week without getting scammed, but a Pro Hero nonetheless. This can’t happen. It can’t.”

“He’s a public servant, Deku, not a nun.” 

Izuku points at her. “Exactly! He’s a public servant. He has a duty to the people first and foremost, and I can’t get in the way of that.” Izuku says, placing a hand on his chest with feeling. A beat passes, and then, “Also, he is so fucking weird.” 

“And there it is.”

“Who gets scammed that much? It just makes no logical sense. You’d think after clicking an obvious pop-up the first time and getting your whole laptop overrun with malware you’d just- stop doing it at some point! But no! It’s like he’s a- a little kid with a big red button in front of him. He’s ridiculous. And-and an asshole, too!”

La Brava sighs, setting down her comically large drink. “Okay, Deku-kun-”

“Yeah! He’s a huge jerk. He’s mean to everyone and he acts like- like he’s doing me a favor by making me fix his laptop all the time! You know what, he deserves all that malware, especially if he’s so obsessed with clicking pop-ups!”

“Deku-kun.”

“He’s insane. A total freak show!”

“Deku-kun.”

“A-A self-absorbed, arrogant-”

“So you don’t want to go on a date with him?” La Brava interrupts, cutting him off. 

Izuku pauses, ceasing his pacing. 

He thinks about Dynamight’s evil looking smiles and fiery red eyes and sharp features; his insane stances and posture and the way his voice sounds like gravel; the way he’s always yelling and acting like a stereotypical macho-man Pro in his office, and yet whenever he steps into Izuku’s he’s always looking away and speaking quieter and holding out his virus-infected laptop like it’s the bento lunch Kiyoko-chan (from the new slice-of-life romance anime Izuku’s been binge-watching recently) made for her love interest in last week’s episode. That one time Izuku had said he was thirsty in Dynamight’s presence and found a water bottle on his desk the next day (and the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that-). It's the way that no matter what happens- whether it’s a villain attack or a patrol or rescuing a kitten from a tree, Dynamite comes out on top. 

(Quite literally, in the case of the kitten. The fire department had to come down to Tatooin Station and rescue Pro-Hero Dynamight and a three-pound kitten from a 40-foot tall oak.)

God, there’s so much wrong with him, Izuku thinks. I need to hold his hand or I’ll die.

Izuku’s cheeks heat up and he scratches the back of his neck, very pointedly not looking at La Brava. “...Well. I never said that.”

“Oh my God,” La Brava says. “Oh my God.” 

“Sue me, okay!” Izuku throws up his hands. “Apparently I like deranged goblin men who are a little pathetic and rough around the edges and incapable of not getting scammed! Is that so wrong!”

La Brava stares. And stares. And then she sighs. 

“It- You know what, this is above my paygrade,” she says, taking another long, obnoxious sip of her drink. “I’m not here to critique your frankly abysmal taste in men. So you do want to go on this date?”

He thinks about it more, and starts getting light-headed at the thought of- of Dynamight, buying him a crepe. Sharing a crepe with him. At the crepe shop. Tomorrow, when they’re both free. Maybe they’d even- hold hands, and- ride the ferris wheel in the amusement park across the street- together-

“Hnnnrrrgh,” says Izuku. 

“Well, good luck,” says La Brava, tossing her empty cup. It soars through the air in a perfect arch and lands into the trash with little fanfare. She pumps her fists, and Izuku absentmindedly claps a little. 

 It’s pretty simple removing the malware- he was the one who put it there, after all. Soon enough, Dynamight’s laptop is good as new. And then, after another couple of moments of hesitation, he sneaks in another pop-up. A poor recolor of Naruto, this time, in suggestive kitsune-themed lingerie. 

“You’re literally going on a date with him,” La Brava says, suddenly popping up behind him. ‘You don’t have to keep doing this.”

“Consider it, uh,” Izuku racks his brain, “leverage! Yeah. If he’s. If he’s an asshole.”

She throws her hands up in exasperation and turns back to setting up a pastel pink Project Sekai theme for Phantom Thief's computer (upon his request). 

He’s not being weird, Izuku reassures himself. He’s not. Dynamight doesn’t have to click the pop-up. He’s not, like, obligated, or anything. But if he does, like he has been doing, well. That’s one way to secure a second date. 

Well. Not that he’s hoping for a second date with Dynamight, or anything. He’s not anxiously counting down the seconds or whatever. That’d be insane. Right? Right. Totally insane. And Izuku is not insane, so therefore he is not incredibly and unhealthily invested in this-

“Stop muttering about this or I swear to God-”

-

So now he’s here. Standing in front of the crepe shop in his nicest clothes (a white ‘Dress Shirt’ shirt, a half-buttoned striped orange button up, and brown corduroy pants with a black belt), blasting music to distract himself from the fact that he may have been stood up. 

Okay, fine, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. He probably hasn’t been stood up. Sure, it’s been three minutes and fifty four seconds since their agreed upon time, and there’s still no sign of Dynamight anywhere, but that probably doesn’t mean anything. He’s probably just running late. 

He has to be running late. What is he going to do if he actually is being stood up right now? 

Kill him? 

Kill Pro Hero Dynamight?

No, Izuku realizes, deflating a little. No, he’d never be able to go through with it. Maybe more malware? Maybe every piece of malware at once?

For once, the Go Get Your Man, Kiyoko-chan! theme song isn’t taking his mind off things- a clear sign of his deteriorating mental state. There’s a part right before the final chorus in which they let a cat just meow into the mic for a solid thirty seconds and it always reminds Izuku that good exists in the world- except for today, apparently. 

After a few moments of hesitation, he goes to his messages. They have each other’s numbers, strictly for business, but occasionally Dynamight will text him hey in the middle of the night and then take three hours to respond to Izuku. 

Where are you?, he types up. But before he can press send, his phone beeps.

Izuku frowns.

“A villain attack nearby?” His hair blows slightly in a sudden breeze. “Huh. I hope it’s not too close.”

He has about two seconds of peace between uttering this final, ironic sentence, and then turning his head-

-because one minute he’s pausing the theme song on his phone, and the next he’s face to face with a giant, menacing pincer that's seconds away from peeling off his entire face.

His life really is just one prolonged punchline, huh.

So there he stands, tears in his eyes, fear in his heart, and the thirty second meowing solo ringing in his ears; dressed his nicest 'Dress Shirt' shirt, holding an expensive laptop that he can never again infect with malware because he’s been stood up and he’s going to die. Brava was right, Izuku thinks belatedly. Maybe I should re-evaluate my taste in men.

And then everything explodes.

part one/part two

[d0youc0py]

Hi! I just wanted to see if I could put in a request maybe? I love your writing and it would make my day if you wrote something about the 141 + Konig having an arguement with the reader and they yell or make a sudden move causing her to like flinch away.

If not that's totally okay too, have a lovely day!

“I’m so tired of arguing with you John.” Your words came out whimper-like and you hated how weak it made you sound. Yet fighting with John was exhausting. Sometimes when the two of you argued it felt like it was just another form of training for him.

He instantly softened. Not that you had the wits to notice. A fat tear rolled down your cheek and John’s hand instinctively raced forward to wipe it away. But from your point of view it looked like he was coming in for a slap. Your head flew back, colliding with the kitchen cabinet. You hissed, your hands coming up to apply pressure to the sting.

“Shite, Sweetheart.” He growled. His hands found your hips, pulling you towards him. “I would never.” He reminded. His hand found its way to yours and held you gently.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered, cheeks flushed. You knew John would never lay a hand on you and you hoped he didn’t take your reaction too personal.

“Don’t apologize, Honey.” He muttered back, his lips pressed against the crown of your head.

His body stilled. In the midst of an argument- one that he can’t even remember why it started- he reached up to rub his face, the action causing you to flinch. He doesn’t even think it counts as a flinch, because you were basically bracing for impact.

“That what you think of me?” He started. Your heart dropped in your stomach at his words, thinking he was angry, but the look on his face was the opposite. His eyes were nervous. It seemed like he was waiting for you to tell him what you truly thought of him. You quickly shook your head.

“No, Si.” You assured quickly. “I just wasn’t expecting it and you moved so fast.” You tried to explain.

“I know I can be an arse sometimes but I would never hit you. Please tell me you know that.” His eyes bore into yours and you nodded your head.

“I do, Si.” You agreed. His hand reached forward slowly and you took the invitation wrapping your arms around his middle.

“Sorry for being an arse by the way.”

*maybe toxic behavior?*

Most of the time Johnny was an extrovert by choice. He could be the life of the party, charming and personable when he wanted to be, but he also needed his time to recharge. He’d just gotten back from a mission and wanted nothing more than to curl up with you and watch some TV show that took no brain power to understand. Instead he came home to you dressed up to the nines, heading out the door.

“Where are you off to?” He questioned, plopping his duffle bag by the door. You raced forward pressing quick kisses against his face.

“Just a little get together. Want to come?” You hummed against him.

“Didn’t I tell you I was coming back today?” He asked. You hummed in agreement, stopping your attack of affection when none of it was reciprocated.

“Yeah, you did. Why?” You questioned.

“I’ve been gone for three weeks and you’re just heading out the door.” He responded, his words nearly coming out like a snarl. This began the argument and before you knew it the two of you were screaming at each other in the entryway.

Johnny talked with his hands and that became dangerous when he was upset. His hand flung up, his fingers barely missing your cheek. All was silent. Your eyes fled with tears wondering how the man you loved could be so careless. His bright eyes were wide and were taking in every move or emotion you felt.

“I wasn’t going to”- He began.

“Sure seemed like you were going to.” You said back. He shook his head almost violently.

“Never.” He growled. “I would never hurt you.”

“Physically.” You emphasized. He shut his eyes tightly- all the hurtful things he said during the argument coming back to him.

He had a lot of making up to do.

*it’s so hard writing angst for Kyle b/c I feel like he is just the sweetest partner everrrrr*

He came home in a mood. The weight of the world on his shoulders. He brushed past you, giving you a quick peck on the forehead before retreating to the patio for a quick smoke. He rarely smoked and the sight had you worried, but you gave him peace.

You were finishing up your laundry, not noticing as he came home behind you. When his hands touched you, you jumped nearly a foot in the air, your head colliding with the dryer.

“Fucking hell, baby.” He huffed from behind you. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologized, holding your head right where you hit it.

“I didn’t even hear you.” You gasped.

“Well I’ve had training.” He smirked. “Let’s get you an ice pack, yeah? Don’t want you walking around town with a bump on your head.”

He was venting to you, to engrossed in his own feelings that he didn’t notice the drastic change in his demeanor. You weren’t use to the side of him- and he had made sure to keep it hidden from you. The last thing he ever wanted was to frighten you. It wasn’t until his arm flung out (not towards you) and you jumped that he’d noticed what was happening.

“Scheisse.” He muttered to himself.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized quickly. “I don’t know why I did that.” You rambled. His worried eyes watched you.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologized. His hands reached out to grab yours and you pushed yourself closer to him.

“You didn’t really scare me, Konnie.” You opened and closed your mouth before continuing. “I’ve just never seen you so worked up before. You just surprised me is all.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, bending down so his head could rest on yours.

“Still. There are ways for me to vent without getting all worked up, ja?”

[batboyblog]

On Top of the totally fictional story of black immigrants eating their neighbors cats and dogs here are some more totally fictional stories Trump made up in the last month, does he believe these are real things that happened? or does he just not care at all if he lies making things up at will?

1 Harris and the military draft

At a rally in Las Vegas last week, Trump claimed his Democratic opponent, Vice President Kamala Harris, is talking about forcing Americans to serve in the military: “She’s already talking about bringing back the draft. She wants to bring back the draft, and draft your child, and put them in a war that should never have happened.” That’s absolute bunk. Harris is not talking at all about bringing back the draft.

2 Harris’ CNN interview

Trump claimed during a Fox News event in Pennsylvania in early September that Harris “had notes” to assist her during the television interview she did with CNN in late August. He even performed an impression in which he portrayed Harris supposedly looking down at these notes. She didn’t actually have any notes.

3 Transgender children and schools

At an event held by a conservative group in late August, Trump claimed that schools are sending children for gender-affirming surgeries without their parents’ knowledge. He said, “The transgender thing is incredible. Think of it. Your kid goes to school and comes home a few days later with an operation. The school decides what’s going to happen with your child.” Trump’s campaign subsequently made clear to CNN that it could not find a single example of such a thing having happened anywhere in the United States. Parental consent is required for gender-affirming operations; schools have not performed or approved these surgeries for minors behind their parents’ backs. Even after Trump’s campaign demonstrated that it couldn’t substantiate the story, he repeated it days later at a Wisconsin rally in early September.

4 Harris and the Russian invasion of Ukraine

Trump told a vivid story on Fox News in late August about how President Joe Biden supposedly sent Harris to negotiate with Russian President Vladimir Putin in 2022 in an effort to prevent an invasion of Ukraine. Trump claimed Harris was sent “to see Putin in Russia three days before the attack. She went. She said – she gave her case. He attacked three days later. He attacked three days later. He laughed at her. He thought she was a joke.” Trump also told a version of the story at the September debate. But this story, too, is wholly false. Biden never sent Harris to negotiate with Putin – in fact, the Kremlin said in July that Harris and Putin have never spoken – and Harris did not travel to Russia just prior to the invasion. Rather, Harris traveled to a conference in Germany to meet with US allies, including Ukrainian President Volodymr Zelensky.

5 Harris’ identity

Trump claimed at a convention of Black journalists in late July that Harris used to “only” promote her Indian heritage, then “all of a sudden” made a “turn” and “became a Black person.” Defending the claim, Trump reiterated at the September debate that Harris had “put out” at some point that “she was not Black.” None of that is true. Harris – who was raised in a Black community and graduated from a historically Black university – has embraced her Black identity since her youth. While she has also fondly discussed her South Asian heritage, she never “put out” that she wasn’t Black.

6 Harris’ 2020 primary performance

Trump has repeatedly claimed during the last month that Harris was so unpopular when she previously ran for the presidency, in 2019, that she was the very first candidate to drop out of the crowded Democratic primary. “She was one of 22 people that ran. She was the first one to quit,” he said at a Pennsylvania rally in late August. Not even close. In fact, 13 other Democratic candidates dropped out of the race before Harris did – including the sitting or former governors of Washington, Montana and Colorado; the sitting mayor of New York City; and sitting or former members of the House of Representatives and Senate.

7 Opinions of Roe v. Wade

Facing heavy criticism from Harris and others for appointing three of the Supreme Court justices who overturned the Roe v. Wade abortion rights decision in 2022, Trump concocted a tale that this unpopular decision fulfilled the wishes of “everybody” – including “every Democrat.” “Every Democrat, every Republican, everybody wanted Roe v. Wade terminated and brought back to the states,” Trump said on Fox News in late August. This is not even remotely accurate. Roe was consistently supported by a majority of the American public, and it was overwhelmingly popular among Democrats – with 80% support or better among Democrats in many polls.

8 Elections in California

At a September press conference in California, Trump claimed that “if I ran with an honest vote counter in California I would win California, but the votes are not counted honestly.” He had delivered an even more colorful version of the claim in an interview in late August, saying, “If Jesus came down and was the vote counter, I would win California, okay?” More rubbish. The votes are counted honestly in California, as they are in every other state; Trump loses California because it is an overwhelmingly Democratic state that has not chosen a Republican presidential candidate since 1988. He lost the state in 2020, fair and square, by more five million votes and more than 29 percentage points.

9 A ‘Man of the Year’ award in Michigan

Since 2016, Trump has told a lie that he was named “Man of the Year” in Michigan before he entered politics. Media outlets including CNN have repeatedly noted that Trump never got such an award and that the award doesn’t even appear to exist. But Trump claimed at a Michigan event on Tuesday that he has now been vindicated. “The press said, ‘Oh, it never happened.’ Well, then it did happen. They found out where it was,” Trump said. “But it was like 15 years ago, a beautiful area, but nobody remembered it; nobody remembered it all. All of a sudden, like through a miracle, they found out it did exist.” That’s a lie on top of a lie. The media has not discovered proof that Trump got a Michigan Man of the Year award. His campaign didn’t respond Wednesday to a request to explain what he was talking about.

10 Migrants, prisons and ‘the Congo’

For months, Trump has told a story about how “the Congo” has deliberately emptied prisons to somehow get its criminals to come to the United States as migrants. “Many prisoners let go from the Congo in Africa, rough prisoners,” he said at an August event in Arizona. At an August rally in Pennsylvania the week after, he said, “In the Congo, in Africa: 22 people deposited into our country. ‘Where do you come from?’ ‘The Congo.’ ‘Where in the Congo?’ ‘Jail.’” But Trump has presented zero evidence that “the Congo” has actually emptied any prisons for migration purposes. Representatives for the governments of both the Democratic Republic of Congo and the neighboring Republic of Congo have told CNN on the record that the claim is fiction, experts on the two countries say they have seen no evidence it is true, and Trump’s campaign has ignored requests to offer any substantiation.

11 The jobs revision

After the federal Bureau of Labor Statistics announced in August that its annual revision of jobs data found that the economy added about 818,000 fewer jobs than initially reported for the 12 months ending in March, Trump told a story about how the government had been planning to announce this downward revision “after November 5th,” Election Day, but was forced to do so before the election because of “a whistleblower” – “a patriot leaker.” Another fabrication. The Bureau of Labor Statistics regularly releases the preliminary revised data in August, and it had disclosed the precise date of this particular data release – August 21 – weeks in advance. William Beach, a conservative economist who was appointed by Trump to lead the Bureau of Labor Statistics, wrote on social media: “For those who think the big revision to the BLS jobs numbers ‘leaked’ and was meant to come out after the election, remember that BLS always announces its draft revisions in August and announced this year’s date, August 21, many months ago. It is important to check your facts.”

[writerslittlelibrary]

So, I'm not a prisoner?

masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 extra

summary: you did not expect that your mission to take down the traitor, could end in such a difficult situation for you…

pairing: Natasha x Red Room teen reader

warnings: fighting, weapons, stabbing, blood, implied sexual abuse

genre: fluff, angst

words: 3073

a/n: I wanted to do a fic like this for so long!!!! anyway, I just kept scouting tumblr trying to find fics like this, so I figured I’d finally write one myself :)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

 |——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

A quick in and out. That was your mission. How on earth did you manage to screw it up so bad. In and out. Assassinate the traitor and come right back. 

Dreykov would’ve been so proud. 

But that didn’t happen. No. Every single aspect about that night failed to go according to plan. You snuck into the event Stark had hosted, was able to blend in with the other party goers, and you were able to hide when most of the people started to leave. 

Once it was just the Avengers left, you stayed in your hiding spot, observing them. You were here to kill Natasha Romanoff, and Natasha Romanoff only. 

You could not afford any casualties, so you had it all planned out. 

You’d wait until the Avengers would leave, and you’d take Natasha out before she could make it to her living quarters. You knew that once she made it to the living space of the Avengers tower, getting to her would be a lot harder. 

However, against all odds, Natasha excused herself from the group quite early, saying she wanted to get a good nights sleep. 

You internally cursed yourself, hating that this wasn’t something that you had planned for. 

Around the couches were still some Avengers sat. You recognised all of them. Clint Barton shouldn’t be too much trouble. He was only a guy who’s good with a bow. For Maria Hill could be said the same thing, except she’s very skilled with a gun.

No, you were worried about the other Avengers still seated. Tony Stark could call upon his armour in mere seconds. Thor had the power of thunder for god’s sake. Wanda Maximoff has exceptional powers, and therefor, if you were to attack with her still in the room, you’d be immobilised in an instant. 

You were fairly certain you didn’t need to worry much about Bruce Banner. Sure, he could turn into the Hulk, but he didn’t turn often, and lately, the Hulk hasn’t been spotted in the battlefield, meaning he probably had many trouble turning into him. 

Pietro Maximoff shouldn’t bring you a lot of trouble either. 

Your main concern were Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. One Super Soldier you could handle, but two? While fighting the rest of the Avengers? That wasn’t going to work. 

Lucky for you, Wanda Maximoff had excused herself from the gathering a while ago. If you didn’t make to much noise, she wouldn’t be much of a problem. You could be outside before she’d even make it to the party deck. 

Your original plan was to just wait. Natasha Romanoff would have usually sat through a party until far into the evening. You’d know, you’ve been watching her for weeks. 

However, now that Romanoff has announced she was returning to her bedroom, a slight panic ran through your body. 

Dreykov gave your 5 weeks to finish this assignment. That’s longer than any assignment you’d ever been on. You could not disappoint him with this. You had to kill the traitor. 

You figured now was your only chance, and so, as Natasha Romanoff made her way towards the elevator, you followed her. 

However, not even to your surprise, she stopped in the middle of the hallway. 

“You know I’m an assassin, too? You’re good, but you’re not un noticeable,” she states, calmly turning around, being met with a gun to your face. The moment she stopped, you were wise enough to draw your gun, holding her at gunpoint for any sudden movements. 

You could see a slight surprise appear on her face, before her face returned to her poker face once again. 

“You’re just a child…” Natasha spoke slowly, seeming almost disappointed. 

“You’re a traitor,” you spoke, loading the gun, taking a step closer. Natasha simply shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she spoke, before leaping towards you. You shot your gun, but Natasha was too fast, avoiding your gunfire as she ran past you, back to the other Avengers. 

How on earth could you have missed that shot? She was right there.

Pathetic. 

You don’t hesitate to run after her, determined to finish this tonight. 

Very much not to your surprise, the moment you run back into the party hall, the Avengers are already standing up and ready. Ready to fight you.

You don’t hesitate to move forwards, and after fighting Clint Barton for mere seconds, you quickly realise they have no intention of hurting you. You could use that to your advantage, and you do.

You kick Barton hard, leaving him on the floor, heaving for air as you move forward, taking on Maria. 

However, the moment you get close to Maria, two strong arms wrap around your body, pulling you back. They’re holding you tightly, and it doesn’t feel like they’re planning to let go. 

You struggle in the hold, fighting against who ever is holding you as you try to break free. A small panic runs through your body. The fear of being captured by the Avengers taking place in your mind. You do not fear the Avengers, but the thought of being seen as a traitor by Dreykov hurts your heart more than words could describe. 

“Stop struggling. We can help you,” you hear a voice behind you speak, and you soon come to realise the person you’re fighting is Captain America himself. 

No wonder you couldn’t get loose. 

Knowing it’s a Super Soldier, you’re quick to outsmart him, making him think you’re getting tired, relaxing your body is his hold. Because of this, the Captain lightens his grip a bit, giving you enough room to wiggle your arm free, moving it backwards to hit him in the face with your elbow. 

Because of the surprise, he lets you go, allowing you to stand again. 

The moment your feet hit the ground, you dash forward, holding up your knife as you use everyone’s shock to your advantage. 

Everyone is surprised by your capability of escaping Steve’s grasp, not realising your already moving towards Natasha again. You reach her quickly, stabbing your knife into her stomach as far as it can go. 

Natasha gasps, and you pull the knife out, watching as all the blood starts to seep from her stomach. 

Slowly, Natasha sinks to the ground, Maria catching her, helping her down. 

You move towards Natasha again, determined to get the job finished, but are quickly stopped by another pair of arms wrapping around your waist. You immediately recognise the metal arm, knowing that the Winter Soldier holds you in his grasp. You can’t escape him. You never have. 

He pulls you backwards, pushing you to the ground as he tries to punch you. However, you regain yourself quickly, rolling away from under him and kicking him in the face. 

Suddenly, you’re moved across the room. You forgot the damn speedster…

You raise your knife quickly, stabbing him before he has a chance to make another move. 

“PIETRO!” you hear a voice yell, and you turn your head to the right. Shit. Wanda Maximoff must have heard the commotion and went down to take a look. You have to get out of there. You will never win a fight with her.

You move quickly, running towards the stairs. However, before you could reach them, you felt a stabbing pain in your left shoulder, the sound of a gun shot following soon after. You had been shot. Bucky Barnes had shot you in an attempt to slow you down. 

But you didn’t let it. 

Instead, you went towards the stairs a little quicker, dashing down the hundreds of flights of stairs to get to the main floor. 

Of course, all SHIELD agents on the main floor were already expecting you, and you were followed by Steve Rogers, but you were quicker than him. You knew that. 

You dashed past all the SHIELD agents, avoiding their gun fire as you made it towards an emergency exit. 

The moment you stepped outside, you started your escape route. You already planned it, knowing exactly which way to go, no matter which way you would exit. 

Steve followed you outside, but the moment he set foot outside the door, you were gone. You had disappeared into the night, leaving no trace. 

------------------------------------------------------------- 

Back in the Avengers tower, the team was recovering from your attack. Natasha was in bad shape. Your strike had been an attempt to murder her, and you didn’t miss any organs as you pierced your blade through her abdomen. 

Pietro was much better. He was back on his feet quickly, seeing as though you stabbing him hadn’t been a murder attempt. You merely wanted to distract him. 

It didn’t take long for Natasha to get back on her feet either, even though she was advised to stay on bed rest after the surgery. 

Natasha was determined to find you, and she quickly got to work. 

Even though you had made it out of the Avengers tower quickly, you were still hurt, and some of you blood had fallen on the floor as you made your escape towards the stairs. Clint and Maria had collected that blood, running multiple tests, only to find out you were not registered anywhere. 

There was no record of your existence. Were you just another ghost story?

What they did find were traces of the Super Soldier serum. However, they were modified, almost as if they were genetically a part of your system. 

Did that mean you were just another Hydra experiment? Natasha did hear you calling her a traitor. That had to mean you knew Dreykov, right? Who else viewed her as a traitor. I would make sense. Sending a modified teenage assassin after her, knowing Natasha was above killing children. 

Even in the Red Room, she always hesitated when sparring against the younger students. 

Dreykov must have had a lot of faith in you to send you after her. Natasha can only hope you’re not a graduate yet…

-------------------------------------------------------------

After the incident in the Avengers tower, you had fled to Germany. You figured it was best to leave the United States completely. And why would they ever search for you in Germany? 

You had rented an apartment, loving the small town you had chosen. Dreykov had given you 5 weeks to finish the assignment, and now, you had only 1 week left. There is now way that you’re going to succeed in killing Natasha within the week. 

They know you are after her now, and they will be prepared for you to make a return. You screwed it up.

Sloppy. 

Right now, you were just heading back to your apartment. You had taken a walk, deciding to make the most out of the freedom you had in the moment. The week would be over soon, and the moment Dreykov would send for your return you are certain you will not be seeing daylight any time soon. 

After you arrived in the apartment building, you instantly felt watched. 

Had the Avengers found you?

You made your way up to your apartment, pushing the key into the lock and walking through the small hallway. Someone was in here, you could feel it. 

You walked into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water, keeping your back towards the living room. 

“There are not a lot of places to hide in this apartment,” you spoke aloud into the emptiness of the apartment. Soon you heard a set of footsteps, and you felt another presence enter the room. 

“You’re very skilled for your age,” you heard a voice behind you say, and you immediately recognised it as Natasha’s. 

“And you are stronger than you look. I mean, even for you, I didn’t expect you to be on your feet so quickly,” you stated, turning around slowly. Natasha wasn’t holding a weapon in your face, something you were definitely expecting. 

You scanned her quickly, seeing the weapons she held on her belt. 

She didn’t come unarmed. Good. She’d be stupid to. 

“I don’t mean you any harm,” Natasha said, taking a small step forward as she held her hands in the air, showing you her every movement. 

You didn’t look impressed, instead just staring at her as she moved. 

“Then you are a fool,” you told her, and you spotted a small smirk flashing over Natasha’s face. “And you are very full of yourself,” she said, moving towards the kitchen island, leaning on it. 

“I can’t say I blame you. You took on a lot of the Avengers on your own. Even two Super Soldiers. That’s impressive,” she stated, giving you a small smile. You didn’t return it. 

“What? Jealous someone better took your place when you betrayed us,” you asked Natasha, determined to get on her nerves.

Natasha’s smile dropped quickly. 

“Quite the opposite, actually. I hoped no one would ever have to go through it again,” she told you, a hint of regret almost identifiable in her expression. Now it was your time to give her a small smile. 

“You think you’re so important that everything should’ve ended with you?” you asked her, moving towards the kitchen island as well, setting your glass down, still holding onto it. 

Natasha shook her head.

“What I am curious about, however, is the genetic Super Soldier serum that runs through your DNA,” Natasha paused, adjusting her stance before speaking again. “Tell me, was your dad a Super Soldier?” 

You let out a huff of amusement, surprising Natasha. 

“You think I believe you’re just here for a conversation? There are SHIELD agents placed on every corner of every street. Don’t think I didn’t notice it. The lovely young couple, drinking coffee at the restaurant downstairs? Amazing disguise, if you were trying to trick nine year olds,” you stated, finishing your glass of water. 

Natasha smiles, clearly impressed with your observations. 

“You’re right. I’m not here for just a conversation, although I do hope we can prevent violence,” Natasha started, but before she could continue you interrupted her. 

“You’re here to bring me in.” 

Natasha nodded, and the look on her face was almost apologetic. 

“No one needs to get hurt. If you just come with me, there’s a big chance you could avoid confinement,” Natasha explained, yet you just scoffed and shook your head. 

“Avoid confinement? Yeah right. There is no way, that after what I have done, your people won’t lock me away.” 

“I can be very persuasive,” Natasha simply replied. 

There was a small silence. Natasha knew you were debating your options. You didn’t seem like a brainwashed sheep. She knew that you knew better than trusting Dreykov’s lies. Sure, you still believed she was a traitor, but there is no way that you didn’t see that what Dreykov is doing is wrong. 

“You know going back after a failed mission will result in punishment,” Natasha started, trying to get through to you. Trying to give you that little push you needed to go with her. “If you go with me, you’ll never be punished like that ever again,” she finished. 

You looked up, deep in thought.

“How could you be so sure?” you asked her, and Natasha didn’t hesitate to respond. 

“We can keep you safe-”

“I found you. I nearly killed you. Who’s to say some other Widow won’t come after me as well?” you replied, and Natasha gave you another small smile. 

“I escaped the Red Room when I was 20,” Natasha started. “It took him 12 years to send someone after me. We will make sure we’ll take him down before he even has the chance to come after you.” 

“How many times, did you try to kill him, exactly? Because I believe you attempted his murder twice already, both of which you failed. You blew him up in Budapest, and then another time when you took the air facility down. Do you honestly think you’ll succeed now?”

Natasha shook her head, seemingly recollecting her thoughts. 

“I failed twice, and that was sloppy, but both times I didn’t have the Avengers on my side. You ran the moment you saw Wanda. You know what she is capable of. Taking down the Red Room for good shouldn’t be too difficult with the Avengers on our side,” Natasha explained, yet you just shook your head. 

“I’m not like you,” you told her, yet Natasha just looked at you in confusion. 

“I’m not some disposable widow like you were. I’m more important,” you explained, and Natasha gave you a sad smile.

“Everyone is just a disposable widow to him,” she started, but you interrupted her. 

“I’m not. You tested my blood. You know I carry the Super Soldier serum. I’m not just some girl he picked up from the streets,” you explained, and Natasha gave you a small nod, encouraging to keep going. 

“I can’t explain it, but he won’t just let me walk. He put too much time in my creation. He would never just let it go to waste,” you finished, looking down, avoiding Natasha’s gaze as you turned around, putting your glass by the sink. 

“We’ll help you. I know that we can,” Natasha tried. 

“Is it worth the risk? My life is not great, but it’s not terrible either. Dreykov values me, and I am not treated like a piece of meat, unlike you might suspect.” 

“So the punishment is worth it, then? Knowing that in three days time, Dreykov will have you be recollected, and once you return to the Red Room, you’ll be punished severely for a failed mission,” Natasha paused, allowing you to let her words sink in. 

“Or, in three days time, you could know you can go to bed without worrying about someone joining. You could know you can be safe, and sleep through the night without anyone disrupting you. Knowing that, is the choice really that hard?” Natasha finished, and you were almost at your breaking point. 

Was it worth it? Was going back the best decision? Dreykov would hurt you, you knew that, but you deserved it. Didn’t you? 

“Please, just come with me. We can help,” Natasha spoke, nearly begged. 

You sighed deeply. 

“Fine, but if you put me in a cell, I will go on a murder streak,” you told her, and Natasha let out a chuckle, before seeing your facial expression, and realising you were dead serious. 

“Duly noted,” Natasha said, before motioning you towards the door. 

What had you done…

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