#darkestspiritofthemoon writes

[ao3-elle1991]

I posted 789 times in 2022

23 posts created (3%)

766 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@saintlopezlov3r

@ghostly-lee

@petite-madame

@elkleggs

@boomdafunk

I tagged 788 of my posts in 2022

#marvel - 758 posts

#mcu - 758 posts

#avengers - 558 posts

#bucky barnes - 283 posts

#winter soldier - 283 posts

#captain america - 263 posts

#steve rogers - 253 posts

#stucky - 154 posts

#loki - 125 posts

#loki laufeyson - 121 posts

Longest Tag: 46 characters

#steve and bucky try the extreme yoga challenge

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

See the full post

6 notes - Posted September 23, 2022

#4

Pass the happy! When you receive this list 5 things that make you happy and send this to 10 of the last people in your notifications 😙✨

Ooh this is cute!

OK, 5 things that make me happy:

My friends 🤗

My mum 👩

Writing ✍

Travelling 🌍

Cats 😻

Tagging the last 10 people in my notifications, feel free to join in and share what makes you happy! @callmekayyyyy @frickss75 @debinthewind @theslightlyevilpooka @asexualyeeter @astro-reblogs @randomhottieactors @agoldenplum @ruinerofcheese @daniellerivers70

6 notes - Posted September 2, 2022

#3

*DEMENTED HAPPY SCREECHING NOISES!!*

Have I just finished plot-planning a sequel to Fearless? Yes!

Is the plot plan 36k words long? Yes!

Will I finally starting writing and publishing this beast of a story in the coming weeks? YES! 🥳

9 notes - Posted July 29, 2022

#2

Let Me Go

Coming to terms with death is difficult, particularly when that death is your own.

When Natasha Romanoff sacrificed herself on Vormir to help bring back half the Universe, she did not expect to survive.

But whilst her physical body perished, her soul awakened in a place that different cultures have named the Soul World, the Afterlife, or Heaven.

This is not the end of her story; it is a new beginning.

AO3 warnings: Major Character Death

Characters: Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Laura Barton, Cooper Barton, Lila Barton, Nathaniel Pietro Barton, Wanda Maximoff, Phil Coulson, Original Characters

Tags: Grief/Mourning, Healing, Afterlife, Magic, Love, Friendship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study

Chapter 1: Whatever It Takes

24 notes - Posted August 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

1 million words celebration! 🎉

With the publication of chapter 2 of Let Me Go last Friday, I've now written over 1 million words of fanfiction on AO3!

What started in 2016 as a way to cope with heartbreak and grief has turned into a beautiful hobby that I absolutely adore and has led to:

1,004,115 words

27 stories

303,286 readers

A huge, huge thank you to all of you who have been a part of this journey with me! Friends, collab partners, readers, commenters -  you have all made this so much fun and I can't wait to keep creating and sharing my imaginary worlds with you ❤

Big love in particular to @chiyume, @call-me-kayyyyy, @callmekayyyyy, @wickedromanoff, @lignadm, @schatten-wolfsdrache, @nicholasbholmes, @ahufflepuffnannywriter, @shalandrial, @thewickedverkaiking, @nonexistenz, @ruinerofcheese, @withinmeloveresides1, @velvetjinx, @thelittleblackfox, @bethofaus, @darkestspiritofthemoon, @beaarthurpendragon, @cryo-bucky

25 notes - Posted August 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[oceanspirit9]

tell me you love me (even if it’s just a lie)

Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff 1214 words

She was a dying rose.

Sunset dancing across her face.

A porcelain doll, cracked open.

Red in a pool of satin.

 Her clothes lay discarded on the floor. As if she’d been in a hurry, as if she’d struggled, then ripped them off, setting her body free and unbound. The blood must have gushed, crimson and thick, staining the hardwood and tainting the sheets. Ripped stitches and cuts, and an armada of bruises; littering inch after inch of her skin; trespassing.

He was afraid.

Of her.

For her.

Terrified to peel the hair from her cheek for fear it be blood.

“-tasha-”

Helpless, choked-up whisper. His fingers slipping along her jaw. Both of them still as the world outside of her window went on.

He’d never seen her this small, never prayed with such vigour for a sinner’s damned soul. Letting his tears merge with the stain on her bed, begging ‘oh god, please don’t be dead’.

“Ow.”

A word so indescribably small for her pain. Anything more though, anything more would’ve broken him. So he sealed that one in on her lips. And it felt like rebirth.

 He should’ve noticed the mad haze in her eyes before dropping her off, the feral hunger for release. He claimed to know her, yet it’d escaped him once more how destructive she could be, how little regard she had for the one he loved most. The thought plagued his brain as his hands worked on removing her bra, the leftover indents cutting too deep for his liking.

Her wound stared him down, this torn pale abyss of her flesh that he’d just managed to tame taunting to spill even more of her out.

“I’ll stitch you back up when you’re out,” his eyes shot to the bathtub, now steaming and full, and waiting for her.

He was staring intently at eyes that were glazed over, at the streaks of mascara she’d never bothered to wipe. It was divine, in the way hell probably was, to see tears as tangible rivers of sorrow and curse himself for eternity he hadn’t been there to stop them.

But he was here now. Clutching her hand as he lowered her in, holding on tight as her cuts hit the water.

“I know,” she was quietly wailing and it tore him apart; but they couldn’t both be in shambles “I know. I’m sorry.”

He began with her face, one swipe after the other, unearthing her. Reliving all of the mornings he’d spent counting her freckles and tracing her brows. Her features burned in his memory and he had to restrain himself from pressing too hard, from speeding the process of getting her back.

“You’re mad,” her lips parted ever so slightly.

“Very observant of you.”

She let out a hum, low and almost inaudible, eyes lazily following the movement of his hand across her face.

“Why?”

“Playing dumb doesn’t suit you, Natasha.”

Her body shifted under him then, splashing the water around as she rose, hand cold and wet over his when she grabbed him.

“This,” she paused, eyes boring into his “is my life. I get to decide what happens to me.”

Looking at her was seeing red. Red was the knotted hair gathered at her shoulders, red was the surge of blood rising to her cheeks. Red was the anger clouding his vision and his judgement.

“Well, you are my life. And I can’t let you ruin it,” stillness “Now lie back down.”

Touching her felt different now, more loaded, more important. He’d long learned to see beyond the flesh, beyond the nooks and crevices and curves her body offered up to him so freely. There was a time and place for him to worship her, to show and prove to her she held his world in those astonishing green eyes. But here and now, he needed to be level-headed, to care without divulging.

“Close your eyes for me,” he whispered, perhaps a tad too close; he saw the shiver travel down her neck, and trembled at the flutter of her lashes. The rosemary of her shampoo flooded his senses whilst he massaged the suds into her scalp, careful not to pull at all the knots that mercilessly weaved around his knuckles.

“Your hair’s grown longer.”

“Mmm.”

He rolled the length of it back down, gently tracing along her spine. She tied it up when they made love, the heat of it impossible for either one to handle. Perhaps she’d let him have at it for once though, and preferably soon, his mind stuck in the loop of tugging at it with the tame ferocity he would only reserve for her.

“Tilt back, please.”

And she did, without hesitation. She trusted him, to dunk her head under the water but never drown her, brushing a hand over her eyes to shield her from it all instead. And the ease of such trust was elating, every time. For as destructive as she was towards herself, she reveled in his touch much more.

He looked at her from up above now, with passion of a different sort.

“Do you feel safe here?” An answer wasn’t what he was looking for. No, he waited for that sparkle in her eyes, the one that came after ‘I love you’. She couldn’t hide from him. He wondered if she wanted to.

“Where is here?”

He cupped her face then, and it felt right even upside down.

“Right here.”

Between his palms. With him. Best part of his life.

“Then yes,” she barely breathed out “you make everywhere feel safe.”

The detonation of his heart was silent.

 Her bare mattress felt cool to the touch. He was standing in the room, holding onto the bloody satin bedwear with a question mark across his face. She’d bled through it all.

“Toss them.”

Flat tone, steel expression.

“And the mattress?”

“Help me flip it.”

“Nat-”

“I assume you’re staying, no? It’ll have to do for tonight.”

He feared she’d rip her stitches again; it had already taken everything from him to watch the needle pierce her skin, to feel the flinch she was so desperately trying to suppress surge through her body and escape her lips. He should’ve numbed his mind the way he did the area of the wound, with alcohol and promises, and holding of her hand.

“You can crash at my place,” he laid down next to her, just staring at the ceiling “until you get the new one in.”

“Your dog snores.”

“We all have our faults.”

There was no clock inside her room; and just as time was free to move unbothered by any mortal constraints, so were they.

Laced fingers; a heavy drunken nonsense of sleep-deprived slurred words; his lips on hers, thirsty and eager to explore. He’d brought the life inside of her once more tonight, kissing her burning cheeks, inviting her to rest onto his chest.

“I’d like to brush your hair,” he tucked a singular red stray behind her ear, drawing that circle across her back over and over; not sure if he were calming her or just himself.

“Bottom drawer.”

 ‘I love you,’ he’d whisper with every knot that came undone.

‘I love you,’ for every fiber of her being.

 “I love you.”

“I love you too.” more writing here

[yn-ymn-yln]

Thanks for the tag love 🧡

This is from a Steve Harrington x reader fic that I started writing literally two hours ago  

Rolling his eyes, Steve leans into your touch, chasing the warmth of your hand as you move away.

@darkestspiritofthemoon @avala-moon @fitzs-undead-monkey​ and anyone else who wants to! (I am far too lazy to add 18 people to this, so 3 will have to do)

Last Line Tag Game

Rules: Write the latest line from your WIP and tag as many people as there are words in the line.

I was tagged by the lovely @darknightfrombeyond! Thanks for the tag! 💕😊🤗💕

In the Dark

Chapter Twelve (I managed to complete two new chapters and I am now working on a third)

Elijah simply didn’t dare to tempt fate by allowing himself to be alone with Eternity or even near her for too long or else have the truth revealed to all, even Niklaus.

Tagging: @elejah-wonderland @whereswaldotho @xxwritemeastoryxx @idkhaylijah @klaroline-4ever @ocfairygodmother

[oceanspirit9]

“You’ll cut yourself.”

Natasha’s voice came flat when she spoke, a statement more than a warning.

She’d been sitting outside for the better part of the afternoon, feet lazily swinging from the porch while she observed the careless twirls of Yelena’s summer dress.

Sister.

What a strange, incomprehensible emotion of a word.

Natasha had no family. That’s how it always had been, and she wasn’t terribly sad or aggravated about it. After all, she couldn’t miss something she never knew. What confused her was this constant need of people to belong to someone, somewhere. Would it really be so terrible to be like her?

The world, she’d learned too quickly, did not care for orphans. Unless they could be used.

Keep reading

@quietlyimplode I finally sat down and gathered some of the messy thoughts  🖤

[oceanspirit9]

Fanfiction Masterlist

Listen, I know it ain’t much, but it’s honest work.

You can find me on Ao3 as Oceanspirit9.

Home Is Where The Cat Is | WIP | 8,614 words

Pairing: Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff

Natasha Romanoff, agent of S.H.I.E.L.D, ex KGB assassin, the better half (according to Clint Barton himself) of Strike Team Delta, moves into her brand new New York apartment. Surprise, she has a cat now! Featuring the very much sleep-deprived but always up for trouble Hawkeye himself, a bunch of lousy neighbours, and Natasha’s past she has to battle! *psst, they go on a roadtrip

Tags: friendship, fluff, angst, nightmares, feelings

Do You Want Me Here Tonight | One-shot, Completed | 2,088 words

Pairing: Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff

The emotional rollercoaster of the night Natasha got poisoned and Clint decided she could not be left alone with a running fever, delirious hallucinations, and a hand that needs to be held. 

Tags: angst, fluff, romance, comfort

Bed Of Roses  | One-shot, Completed | 2,076 words 

Pairing: Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff

There’s just something about fucking in a hotel, yeah? Or, the night we learn how sensual Clint Barton can be with the woman of his life (and how Natasha is a vocal lover and you cannot take that away from me). 

Tags: NSFW, smut, porn with feelings, fluff, romance

you taught me how to care (and I haven’t forgotten since) | Completed | 11,985 words

Pairing: Implied Melina Vostokoff x Alexei Shostakov 

Inspired by the Black Widow (2021) movie, but conceived before I watched it, so, no actual spoilers (only what we know from trailers)!

Natasha Romanoff is eight when she is put inside a car with two strangers she has to call Mama and Papa. They promise to take care of her, to keep her safe, although she knows who sent them. 

Natasha Romanoff is eight when she gets a sister. A tiny little human, unscathed still. She doesn’t know it’s all a twisted game. And Natasha pretends, for her sake. Until it all becomes a tad too real.

Tags: widowfam, angst, fluff, family, siblings, comfort, nightmares

Her Smile And Other Forms Of Sunshine | Completed | 4,157 words

Pairing: Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff

Beach vacation for the wounded souls of two idiots in love. Lots of touching and hand-holding, even more cheesy lines, and overall, a wave of summer nonsense featuring yours truly, Clint and Nat.

Tags: NSFW, smut, fluff, angst, romance

the bottom of the sea is where her past is buried (you can't drown more than once) | One-shot, Completed | 3,261 words

Pairing: Implied Melina Vostokoff x Alexei Shostakov

A family trip to the beach goes awry when nine-year-old Natasha Romanoff is violently pulled back by her past. Nightmares bleed into daydreams, making a hostage of her emotions, hindering her ability to reconcile and move on.

Tags: widowfam, angst, family fluff, comfort, siblings, nightmares

I would give a life just to live that dream again | WIP | 6,098 words

Pairing: Implied Melina Vostokoff x Alexei Shostakov

Cincinnati, Ohio

1993

Life in the suburbs was not something Natasha Romanoff imagined for herself. Yet, it is under the effervescent autumn trees of Ohio that she discovers life can be simple, simple and good, and filled with magic.

Tags: widowfam, family fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Natalia | One-shot, Completed | 1,282 words

Before we knew Natasha Romanoff, there was Natalia, an innocent who did ballet.

My personal birthday gift, from me to me

Tags: origin story, angst, red room, beginning of the end

Trick or Treat? | Completed | 3,932 words

The minutes came and went, Natasha slowly nibbling at her chocolate bar, knowing it could never heal all that was wrong inside her head. Her mouth stayed shut, lips sewn but cursing the red room, a speechless doll dressed in all white with a knife strapped to her thigh.

Tags: angst, red room, Halloween

and after everything, we’re still a team (and I miss you) | One-shot, Completed | 572 words

short story, long title, full-fledged emotions

Yelena reminisces about her sister and what could’ve been

Tags: angst, siblings

[oceanspirit9]

I would give a life just to live that dream again

Cincinnati, Ohio

September 1st, 1993

September greeted Hamilton County with rain, grey clouds menacingly frowning over the neighborhood. The post boy flew by, ringing the bell on his bike loud enough for everyone to hear, then disappeared down the street, probably to devour his mother’s pancakes.

Natasha stirred awake, stretching under her covers, hand bumping the paperback she’d fallen asleep to the previous night. So that’s where it went. Some of the pages were slightly bent so she attempted straightening them, flattening the surface with her fingers before placing the book back onto her nightstand. Matilda would have to wait until the afternoon.

Somebody must have snuck in at some point during the night, most probably Melina, because Yelena’s nightlight had been turned off, the butterfly quite boring now without its neon glow. A pile of laundry stood neatly folded on top of their dresser, the clothes smelling faintly of lavender when Natasha passed them by en route to the bathroom.

The water hit cold against her face, knuckles vigorously rubbing the sleep away under the sound of the running tap. She yawned, then stuffed a toothbrush in her mouth, squeezing a dollop of toothpaste over Yelena’s too.

A strip of white was peeking under her pajama shirt in the reflection of the mirror, where the one-piece had hugged her just a few days prior, the skin at least a shade lighter than the rest of her. Last remnants of a summer now gone.

It was an ordinary magic of sorts, to witness nature shy away and fade into amber. She’d felt strangely at peace, running back home for dinner every evening, under the dome of evanescent greenery, and crunching yellowed leaves with her sneakers. Freedom was idyllic, it had turned out, and so unlike the threatening image the Red Room had put in her head, one of fear and deception, of having no place to belong to.

And as if on cue, a clock went off next door, loud and invasive, hauntingly reminiscent of an emergency siren. Not strong enough to send her spiralling, but startling nonetheless. Ohio is safe, Natasha gulped, staring at the swaying trees outside, a single chill running through her. At least for the time being.

Keep reading

[yn-ymn-yln]

MY HAND WRITING IS THE WORST 🤦‍♀️ thank you for the tag though love ☺️🖤

Tagging: @darkestspiritofthemoon @r13mar

handwriting tag! 

tagged by @chateautae​ and @randombtsprincessa​ - thank u both!!! 

RULES: 

write hello

write numbers 1-9

write the alphabet

write the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog

write a quote of your choice

my handwriting has changed so much throughout the years lol but i think this is its final form 🤣which is actually still not very consistent… 

i tag (and sorry if you’ve already done this) @glossgf (let’s see whose is better bitch), @tan-dulset, @sugaurora, @underthejoon, @kpopfanfictrash, @trustingofwinds, @atastefulwonderland, @bonvoyagenoona, @suga-kookiemonster, and @hobidreams​ !! 

[oceanspirit9]

Natasha has a wet dream and finds it absolutely necessary to tell Clint about it. So, she rolls him over and lays her head on his chest, going over every little detail she could remember in that low tone having just woken up comes with. He listens cordially, eyes blissfully closed, and at the end just cups her face and whispers in her ear

"I can make your dream come true"

@ohwriteiforgot

[oceanspirit9]

I would give a life just to live that dream again

Chapter 4

“Yelena,” Melina crouched down by her bedside, patiently waiting for the baby blues to meet her gaze “I need you to listen to me very well, okay?”

Nobody had prepared the Iron Maiden for this.

It had been simple with the eldest, they were painfully alike in that they licked their wounds in quiet solitude. Their nightmares came and went, too personal to even put in words, too haunting to even begin describing. Natasha frequented the hallways at midnight, sparing Melina a curt nod when they crossed paths in the kitchen. They both saw red, hands shaking, throats dry. But it was all forgotten in the morning.

Yelena, au contraire, had not come with instructions.

Keep reading

[oceanspirit9]

Her Smile And Other Forms Of Sunshine

Chapter 3

“Hey.”

His voice washed over her, a warm whisper, to mirror the fingertips that trailed along her back. She moaned in return, elated by the touch, burying her face deeper into his chest.

“How long have you been staring?”

“A good half hour.”

He felt a smirk somewhere over his ribcage, and a tingle, where her lips softly caressed his skin.

“Like what you see?”

Natasha knew how to make him crave her, even with his hands already tangled in her hair and bodies flush against one another. He loved watching her sleep, at peace in the safety of his arms, stirring just so she could move closer to him. There were no nightmares when he held her, her heartbeat strangely but comfortingly monotonous in the rare moments of tranquillity sleep allowed for. It had taken a while, getting used to her deadweight, to her hair in his face and her legs between his. Even now an electric current kept shooting up and down his numb arm, screaming at him to let go.

But he could never bring himself to push her away. Not when it calmed her down, enough to knock her out for several full hours, not when she moaned his name, slurred and drunken, high on his scent.

“I love you,” he pulled her up, draping one arm over her waist and cupping her cheek with the other “Always.”

Keep reading

[dream-launch]

Thanks for the tag @darkestspiritofthemoon!!

Adrenaline - Simple Creatures

Better Off - Ariana Grande

Misery Business - Paramore

After Dark - Mr Kitty

Tear You Apart - She Wants Revenge

GASLIGHT! - Maggie Lindemann

Walking on a Dream - Empire of the Sun

Back to Life - Mother Mother

Freaks - Surf Curse

Time Machine - Willow

Tagging: @milfsonfilm @finallyfacingfailure @fireflyxrebel-writes (if yous want)

Thanks @banashee for tagging me. Du bist ein Schatz!!

Rules: you can usually tell a lot about a person by the type of music they listen to. put your favourite playlist on shuffle and list the first ten songs then tag ten people!  

Rumjacks - Light in the Shadow

Volbeat - Lola Montez

Dimmu Borgir - Raabjørn Speiler Draugheimens Skodde 

Elle King - Baby Outlaw

Chris Boettcher - 10 Meter gehn

Abbath - Winter bane

Royal Republic - Fireman and Dancer

J.B.O. - Bamberch - Freak City

Apollo 440 - Stop the Rock

Samael - On Earth

And I tag @darkestspiritofthemoon, @nerdie-with-a-darkside, @fuckyeahdeafandasexual, @rebelmeg… and everybody who wants to play :D

[oceanspirit9]

Natalia

The night flickered, engulfed in a violent blaze of searing flames, trembling whole with the inconsolable cries of a single baby girl. She thrashed, a tiny soul forlorn, cinder violently raining over her rosy cheeks.

A man was rocking her, mere silhouette among the shadows, wiping her tears away before they smudged the ash. He held her close, although stiffly, tucked away under his woollen coat where it was warm and safe.

“Все хорошо, Наташенька,” he whispered, stepping away into the darkness and letting it consume him.

-

Ivan Petrovitch sat on a bench, blissfully smoking his cigar despite the chilling cold. His ivy cap hung inconspicuously low over his forehead, cloaking just enough of his eyes to let him keep his vigilance. Snow fell in heavy tufts around him, quite picturesque if he weren’t busy fixing the wrinkled edges of his newspaper, too busy, in fact, to notice the fury of red coming his way.

“Look, Papa,” the voice came hushed, muffled behind a long thick scarf “Kitty.”

There was indeed a cat in his Natalia’s arms, a gaunt black feline, trapped desperately in her iron grasp. It hissed, claws stuck deep into her sleeve, its beady eyes darting between the two of them and freedom.

“Keep him, Papa?” there was a longing in her gaze, pure in a way only a child was capable of displaying. Sometimes he wished to entertain her naivety, to split the world in two and never let the red seep in. Yet, reality, in all its ugliness and postulated glory, was all that he could offer her.

“Perhaps another time.”

He marvelled at her drooping smile, at the hope that dashed away in the slender body of a street cat. She wasn’t ready yet, to keep the tears and her runny nose at bay, to face betrayal and a shattered heart and never bat an eye.

“Come on, Natalia,” he offered her his hand, quickly fixing his cap back in place “You have ballet class to attend.”

Keep reading

This is a birthday treat, from me to me (a little late, but who's counting)

[oceanspirit9]

Trick or Treat?

Ch. 1: A Diary of Horrors

overwhelming

/ ˌoʊ vərˈʰwɛl mɪŋ, -ˈwɛl- /

adjective

overpowering

so great as to render resistance or opposition useless

 There was a small notebook at the bottom of Natasha’s bag, edges slightly frayed, perhaps a bit of peanut butter smeared across the cover. Her impromptu dictionary, if it was to be labelled, where ‘overwhelming’ had firmly set the tone for the remaining pages. It was an odd companion, but it kept her in check and her emotions at bay, a confidant to a lost girl, a reminder, that though her handcuffs did not reach Ohio, the Red Room still had control over the chain.

Keep reading

[oceanspirit9]

Trick or Treat?

Ch.2: Lost and Found

Ohio State Fair,

November 6th, 1993

 Natasha swung the car door behind her, breathing in the crisp November air while adjusting the straps of her backpack. Tighter, closer.

There had been rain, a vicious downpour that had lasted well into the week, burying Cincinnati under a dome of thick mist. Something inside her still longed for summer and its breezy afternoons spent reading on the porch, for the smell of chlorine at the communal pool and the blue popsicles that stained her tongue. Not gone, that bliss, just out of sight.

Her nose scrunched up at the memory as she trampled over the now fallen yellow leaves, boots already covered in mud.

Autumn had surprised her. She wasn’t used to seasons changing just like that, so tangibly, without permission. There’d only been a tiny window at the academy, barred up tinted glass, barely enough to notice the swarms of red and orange littering the ground. There, fall was but a bridge, steep and slippery, straight to an unforgiving winter.

She received a sweater every year, not too unlike her current, though flimsier. Grey, to match the walls and help her be invisible. To show when she was sweating, to out her when she was bleeding. And blood used to look so odd when it got on it, like a petri dish of broken promises and lost potential, of pain and regret, seeping, staining, dripping.

“Help.”

Yelena tugged at her sleeve, staring disapprovingly at her untied shoe laces.

“I told you to put your rainboots on, didn’t I?” Natasha’s voice came flat, perhaps mildly annoyed, though she still knelt down to take care of the rogue ties.

“Thank you, Tasha.”

She felt Yelena lightly tap her on the head, already shifting her attention to what awaited them beyond the gate.

Keep reading

[oceanspirit9]

I would give a life just to live that dream again

Chapter 5

The old staircase creaked beneath Melina, her hand absentmindedly trailing along the polished wooden banister. The house was colder in the morning, a bitter autumnal chill already creeping through the mail slot of the front door.

She shivered in her robe, absentmindedly turning the stovetop on while rummaging through cupboards for coffee and a mug. Her eyes immediately landed on the single box of cereal up there, the dreaded Lucky Charms that had almost sent Yelena into a sugar coma. She kept pushing it to the back, day after day, suspicious of Alexei still using it to coerce the kid into doing chores.

The clock struck seven when she sat down at the kitchen table, staring at the trees outside with scolding hot coffee in between her palms. On such quiet Sunday mornings she found herself back home, reading Dostoevsky in the living room where her mother played the piano.

Keep reading

[oceanspirit9]

I would give a life just to live that dream again

Chapter 3

Melina’s heels clicked confidently down the halls of Cincinnati University, her shoulder bag ever so slightly brushing against her side. Her coffee had gone cold, yet she still held onto the paper cup, the liquid swishing serenely inside while she passed by the dean’s office.

Routine was good, she’d assured herself earlier that morning, staring in the bathroom mirror with the mascara wand in hand. It’d been a while since she’d last indulged in makeup, hers and Alexei’s impromptu wedding maybe, or perhaps Madrid, in 1990, when she’d been instructed to welcome the afghan ambassador and later strangle him, red lipstick still intact. Her hand moved by itself, lining her lips and twisting at her hair, the comb running smoothly along her dark waves.

Alexei’s eyes had lingered during breakfast, slowly tracing the hem of her cream pantsuit, and not at all subtly at that. Good, the gears shifted in her brain, she still had it.

Keep reading