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aphroditeinthesea · 7 months ago

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“ guilty as sin ”

jason grace x fem!reader ⚡️

if there’s no such as thing as bad thoughts, why is y/n feeling so guilty? | pt. 2

⚠️ cheating, swearing, breaking girl code, make out, sexual insinuation & while i was posting this there was random lightning and thunder so took that as a sign that this was pretty good

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The first thing Y/N noticed about Jason was his girlfriend. Okay, maybe that wasn't the first thing, but it was up there. Maybe the first thing she noticed was his hair, the way that sun shined around it, making his aura glow. Or maybe it was the way his eyes were so vibrant that she felt like she was drowning in the Blue Nile. Or, gods, his muscles. The way his shirt was barely able to conceal his abs. Then, his absolutely beautiful girlfriend, who surprise, surprise, was a daughter of Aphrodite.

Of course she knew she had to keep these feelings locked inside a vault. Especially at how she so easily befriended Piper, who if she knew about these feelings, would have Y/N’s head. But how was she supposed to? Whenever she saw him, basically doing nothing, her mind already had images of him flashing in her mind that she tried so desperately to flick away.

But once the feelings had gotten too intense, she had to tell someone. So she turned to the wisest person she knew, Annabeth Chase. She decided to walk to the Athena cabin after training. She found the blonde reading a book on her bed. She approached her, speaking up, “hey, can we talk?” she looked around, “privately?”

Annabeth nodded before leaving alongside Y/N. She led her to cabin 3, which was uninhabited since the disappearance of Percy.

“What’s wrong?” Annabeth began.

Y/N sighed before explaining the ordeal to the girl. Excluding certain fantasies about the boy that not even Zeus himself could get her to confess.

“As a girlfriend of a guy who everyone has a crush on,” she began, seeming annoyed at her own statement, “don't act on it.”

Y/N nodded, “yeah, I could never act on it, I mean, Piper’s my friend,” she paused and looked up at the daughter of Athena, “I’m not a bad person am I?”

“There’s no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk.”

But after a few months. After they found out the memories were fake, that Jason was a Roman demigod, that there was no relationship to begin with, Y/N had the guilty hope that they would break up. But no. Instead they continued dating? She was furious, while also hating herself every second of every day. She had thought that maybe after all this time the feelings would go away. But they didn't! They wouldn't! They couldn't!

Every time she saw the two of them together, she wanted to vomit. Especially when they’d act all couple-like and kissing and hugging and standing within a ten foot radius.

One day at archery practice, she was about to shoot, when she saw the couple walking nearby. She immediately sunk into herself. She drew back her arrow, sulking, until she heard a loud, “ow, fuck!”

She looked up, realizing that she had accidentally shot the foot of the son of Apollo that had been helping her. She gasped, “oh my gods, I’m so sorry.”

He sat on the grass, holding onto his bleeding foot, “dont worry about it,” he hissed through the pain. A few other campers ran over to help him over to the infirmary.

She awkwardly looked around, unsure of what to do.

“What happened, Y/N?” The sound of Piper’s voice behind her caught her attention.

She paused, looking up at the blond boy before back to Piper, “I got distracted and, uhm, accidentally shot him.”

“Is he okay?” Jason questioned.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she brushed off, “a little arrow in the foot never killed anyone.”

“Achilles would beg to differ,” he remarked with a smirk. Gods, that was going to be the death of her, The way his scar curved with his mouth. She liked to imagine he got the scar in a battle to the death against a Roman beast- or whatever, she didn't really understand what happened at that camp, other than the fact that they had really hot guys.

She must have been staring for too long as Piper looked back up at her boyfriend herself, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N panicked, “I should go see if he’s okay,” she ran off to the direction of the infirmary.

“You shot someone in the foot?!”

“Annabeth, I really don't feel like talking about this right now.”

“No, Y/N,” she stood in front of Y/N, “why?”

“Jason-”

Annabeth shook her head, “he has a girlfriend.”

“I know, that’s the problem-”

“She’s not the problem, Y/N,” the girl interrupted again, “you're being so immature, you have to get over this.”

Y/N turned around to see Piper and Jason laughing about something. She looked back at Annabeth, “I’ll try.”

That next week, she had gotten a date with a son of Hermes. It was a nice date, too. A picnic on the dock during the campfire.

“I was originally born in Minnesota, but then we moved to New Hampshire-” his voice was drowned out by her thoughts. She felt so… faithful to Jason. If it's make believe, why does it feel like a vow? She felt like he had written ‘mine’ on her upper thigh in her mind- “what about you?”

“Oh, I’ve never been to Michigan.”

He raised an eyebrow, “I asked if you liked strawberries?”

“Oh,” she looked at the strawberry she had accidentally crushed in her hand, “yeah.”

“You don't like me, do you?”

She shook her head, “no, nothing with you. You're great, this picnic is amazing, I’m just… I am so in love with one of my best friends’ boyfriend. I’m just trying to get over him.”

“Jason?”

She looked at him, her mouth agape, “how did you…?”

“A good guess.”

She hid her face in her hands, tears welling in her eyes, “am I allowed to cry?”

He pulled her into a hug, “go talk to him.”

New advice? She’ll take it!

She stood up, “I’m really sorry, I’ll make it up to you, promise!” she claimed before running off to the fire. Everyone was beginning to disperse, when the blond hair caught her eye. She rushed over to him, “I need to talk to you.”

He looked confused, but nodded, leading her into his cabin, “what’s up?”

“I have a huge fucking crush on you,” she blurted, “I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. And I thought that if I told you, it would go away. I’m sorry.”

He stayed silent for a minute, thinking. He ran his fingers through his hair. Did everything about him have to be this fucking hot?

“I have a girlfriend.”

“I know.”

He shook his head, “no, I need to remind myself of that. Y/N,” he walked closer to her, taking her hands in his, “I really like you, Y/N.”

She let out a deep breath, “Jason, that doesn't help.”

“It doesn't help me either, that’s why I’ve been trying to ignore it, but,” his right hand let go of hers, finding its way to her lips, “look at you.” He slowly leaned down to kiss her. Once, twice, thrice, four- over and over again. She wasn't even sure when she was suddenly pinned to his bed as their kisses got messier. His fingers traced the skin under her shirt, sending shivers down her spine, gasping when he would zap her.

“Jase,” she breathed, “this is really bad.”

He bit her bottom lip, “I know, we shouldn't-”

She kissed him again, “no.”

He leaned back, “Y/N, we really can’t.”

“I know, I know,” she heavily breathed, “but what are you saying?”

He stood up, forcing his glasses back on, “I need to go talk to Piper,” he grabbed her hand, helping her up, “go back to your cabin, let’s just forget about this.”

“No.”

“Y/N, please, we can talk some other time, but please, just go for now.”

She nodded, tears in her eyes, “right, okay,” she followed behind as he walked to the door, opening it for her. She looked up at him, “goodnight, Jason.”

He gently touched her arm, “goodnight.”

She walked out feeling shame and guilt fill her body. She felt it in all her limbs, making it hard for her to walk, feeling pulled down by her emotions, she wondered, without ever touching his skin, how could I be guilty as sin?

#jason grace x reader #jason grace x you #jason grace #jason grace one shot #jason grace headcanon #jason grace fanfic #jason grace x y/n #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #based on a taylor swift song #the tortured poets department

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lwtqts · 6 months ago

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careful !

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💐: why yunjin getting messy bruh🙁 anyways finals are done and i passed all my classes🙏

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updownlately · 1 year ago

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

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

~~~

“Hey…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How we feeling about dinner?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know you’re awake…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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squishykitty825 · 2 months ago

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Watch it all burn

Anger had become one and the same with Jason ever since his return to life. It burned like a raging fire in his chest at every turn. Burning and burning with nothing and everything to fuel it.

Anyone who crossed him would feel his anger. But it rarely became more than that. He rarely crossed that threshold between anger and rage, fury, wrath.

But he did.

Every once in a while, he crossed that line.

Everyone who knew him knew he would do anything for his family. So, when he heard what Dick had suffered at Deathstroke's hand, he crossed that line. Slade deserved everything that was coming for him. Deserved the fury of a thousand demons that came after him in the form of a red helmet-wearing Jason Todd.

When he saw Tim stumble and fall mid-battle and not get up, he crossed that line. The villains they were fighting stood no chance against the hell he unleashed upon them to reach his brother. Stood no chance against the ensuing pain he rained down on them for hurting Tim.

When he watched Damian's strength falter beneath the strength of a villain much stronger than him, he crossed that line. The blood on his hands was nothing compared to the blood Damian had shed. Nothing compared to what it would be if his brother died.

He would cross that line again and again if it meant keeping his family safe.

If it meant getting revenge on anyone who managed to hurt his family.

Jason would let the world burn if it meant protecting them. Because he had nothing, he was nothing, without his family.

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geminivriskq · 2 months ago

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Shamelessly self advertising my fanfiction but GO READ SWEET BOD ON WATTPAD!!

⚠️Warning for depictions of blood and a corpse in the image!

⚠️Warning for overall death, blood and gore, and illness in the fanfic itself!

(It is a rewrite of something older, feel free to check out the old one, though warning, it does suck)

#fanfic #object shows #inanimate insanity #inanimate insanity oj #orange juice #horror #osc art #osc community #my artwork #fanart #lemon demon #lemon demon spirit phone #based on a song #ii #payjay #ish?#idk a little bit #wattpad

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thatonebrazilian · 2 years ago

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Tolerate it

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

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

Word count: Around 6K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But since the Blip things have changed.

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

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

She seemed to simply… Tolerate it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You turned away and stepped in the jet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just wished being sane was enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You needed to help her heal somehow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were tired, you were so fucking tired.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wished that he being sorry was enough.

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

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

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

And yet, there was hope.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Destiny had brought you here, demanding a sacrifice.

It was a curse and a blessing all at once.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you couldn't let them sacrifice themselves.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She loved you. Always did. Always would.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wanda shook her head, her brows starting to sweat.

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

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

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

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

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

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thesleepyskipper · 20 days ago

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Six Sentence Sunday

Thank you to @onthewaytosomewhere, @kiwiana-writes, @orchidscript, @suseagull04 and @sophie1973 for the tags today! When I realized I had nothing to share, it actually helped me get started on my next WIP idea! So smooches to all of you for that!😘

This is based on a song from one of my favourite bands called elevator love letter:

Henry’s office is on the twelfth floor of a skyscraper in Canary Wharf. There’s plenty of other offices, plenty of other people, plenty of other lost souls just like him who all make their way here every single day. Day in, day out; commute to and from the building, ride up and down the elevators. Every single bloody day. The routine is, to be frank, exhausting. And that doesn’t even include the actual work of it all.

Tag list under the cut for any friends who would care to share on this November day!

@welcometololaland, @cricketnationrise, @myheartalivewrites, @firenati0n

@rmd-writes, @celeritas2997, @noahreids, @alasse9, @14carrotghoul

@three-drink-amy, @anincompletelist, @anchoredarchangel, @cha-melodius, @sparklepocalypse,

@stereopticons, @smblmn, @leaves-of-laurelin, @lilythesilly, @emmalostinwonderland

@nontoxic-writes, @indestructibleheart, @maxbegone, @piratefalls

@iboatedhere, @nocoastposts, @zwiazdziarka, @firstprincehornyramblings

@clockwrkpendrxgon, @run-for-chamo-miles, @tinyarmedtrex, @getmehighonmagic, @henryspearl

@judasofsuburbia, @heysweetheart-writes, @blueeyedgrlwrites @bitbybitwrites,

@jmagnabo92, @wordsofhoneydew, @theprinceandagcd, @miss-minnelli

@hgejfmw-hgejhsf, @dragonflylady77, @agame-writes, @nocoastposts, @lightningboltreader

@inexplicablymine, @na-dineee, @notspecialbabe, @benwvatt, @cactusdragon517

@onetwistedmiracle, @ninzied, @porcelainmortal, @aforgottennymph, @caterpills

@kordeliafawkes, @stratocumulusperlucidus, @idealuk, @stellarmeadow, @eusuntgratie

@lizzie-bennetdarcy, @dreamtigress, @duchessdepolignaca03, @tailsbeth-writes,

@priincebutt, @stellarmeadow, @softboynick, @fullsunsets, @na-dineee

@firstprincefairytale, @rachelica9, @readstheroom, @anti-homophobia-cheese, @thighzp

@mikibwrites, @swearphil, @flowerfan2, @rarelyrad, @letloverule1111

@endlesstwanted, @glasshouses-and-stones, @swoonoveryou3, @thedramasummer, @jackzimmermemes

@miharaikko, @kj-bee, @dani-dabbles, @henryhenhazza,

@msmarvelouswinchester, @henrys-vodka-shot-glass, @shadegarden, @imintomakinghistory

@littlemisskittentoes, @reagcdfox, @lesliesknopes, @magicmelinoe

#rwrb #rwrb fic #red white and royal blue #firstprince #rwrb fanfic #six sentence sunday #fics based on songs #elevator love letter

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anonymityisfunwriter · 8 months ago

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Midnight Rain

“I broke his heart because he was nice. He was Sunshine, I was Midnight Rain…”

Request from ao3- "ok but imagine a grumpy/sunshine fic with sam but the reader is the grumpy one 🤷" For one of my fave readers, @/badasswithafatass I hope you enjoy! 💛

Pairing - Sam Wilson x Reader Sam Wilson Masterlist | Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist Anon's 1K Celebration

“You know, for a smart guy, you’re pretty fucking dense," Bucky mutters, taking another swig of his beer.

“Aw… you think I’m smart?” Sam sarcastically awes from the bar stool beside Bucky.

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head, “Do you honestly think she had any real interest in me?”

Bucky doesn't miss the tick in Sam's jaw at the mention of you. Months had passed since the last time Sam saw you, and he wasn’t too keen on remembering that dreaded last night. Just the memory of you leaning over the bar counter, hand resting on Bucky’s chest, whispering something in Bucky's ear, was enough to make Sam's stomach twist into a knot.

Even before that night, he could tell that you were pulling away from him, but there it was, that night, the final nail in the coffin. That was the last time he’d seen or heard from you. You walked out of his life without so much as a goodbye.

Sam rolls his shoulders back, his mouth twisting in distaste, “Sure seemed like it to me.”

“See? Dense,” Bucky declares, tipping his beer in Sam's direction.

“Alright, I’ll bite. How does any of that make me dense?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Are you going to keep insulting me or are you going to actually explain?”

“Sam, she’s a spy, an assassin," Bucky explains like it should be obvious. "She knew you were standing there. She knew you were watching.”

"So maybe she wanted to make a point. It’s not like she was one for talking or communicating, maybe that was her way of letting me know how she actually felt. Trust me, I got the message loud and clear. That doesn’t make me dense."

"Sam..." Bucky takes a long breath. "We're a lot alike, me and her. And people like us, we cut and run, it's what we do. We don't wait for things to go bad, we live with the expectation that things will always go bad."

Sam tosses the rest of his whiskey back, flagging down the bartender for another one. "That's a depressing way to live."

“It keeps us alive.”

“We weren’t on a battlefield!" Sam spits through gritted teeth. "We were done with the fight, remember? We won, for Christ’s sake!”

“And where did that leave her, Sam? With a conditional pardon? People watching us 24/7?”

“With me!” Sam snaps, slamming his glass down on the bar. “It left her with me. We were good, Bucky! We were happy together. At least, I thought we were happy together. I even- I told her that after everything, that I would take her back home, meet my family, maybe settle down a little.”

"And while you're thinking about taking her home to meet your family, she's probably thinking how a family like yours is going to react to you bringing an actual assassin home."

"I... didn't think about it like that,” Sam confesses, faltering for a moment. He shakes his head. No. He refuses to accept that. It didn't excuse that he'd found you flirting with his best friend. It didn't change that you told him he meant nothing to you. “Because I don't think about her like that. And you know what? She could've talked to me, she could've told me she felt like that, Bucky, but she didn't."

"Sam, can I be honest?"

"Shoot."

"I don't think you two will ever work."

"That's a shitty thing to say to me," Sam spits.

"I don't," Bucky admits with a languid shrug. "Honest truth, I don't see it."

"You don't have to see it, I do,” Sam firmly states. “I see it working out."

Bucky claps a hand on Sam's shoulder with a tight lipped smile, "That's my point, Sam. That's the difference between you and us. You, you live for the hope of it all. She doesn't know how to do that. I don't know how to do that. We're broken, haunted people, Sam. We hurt people that get too close."

"You're wrong."

"Why else-"

"Because she was bored!" Sam angrily shouts, not caring at the stares his outburst brings. "She only wanted me because I was there."

“Do you honestly believe that?”

“Yes. I do believe that,” Sam hisses. “Unlike you guys, I believe the words that come out of people’s mouth. She was bored... She was bored and I was there.”

Bucky takes a long pull from his beer, rising from his seat with a defeated sigh. He turns to Sam to offer one last piece of insight, “All I’m saying is I wouldn’t go on the run with someone for two years because I was bored. Not unless I really gave a shit about them. Not unless I loved them, like really loved them.”

"Do you mean that?" Sam asks over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I mean that."

3 Years Earlier - Somewhere in Scotland

“Just let me do the talking, okay?”

Sam raises up his hands, “No arguments from me.”

The doorknob rattles for a moment, opening just enough for you to stand before them. You look at them and immediately try to snap the door shut, “No.”

Nat extends out her hand to stop the door from swinging shut. “Just hear us-“

“No.”

"You don't even know why we're here," Nat argues. “It’s important. Please.”

You relent, allowing the door to fling open. Standing tall in the doorway, your eyes rake over each of them, “Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov or whatever name you’re going by now, and Sam Wilson, all in the flesh, all the most wanted fugitives on Earth. So I don’t care how important it is, my answer is no.”

Sam’s eyes comically widen, his voice taking a slightly bewildered, high pitched tone, “How did - Do you happen to know the names of all strangers that show up at your door?”

Your eyes dart over to Sam with a grimace, “Strangers that show up at my door end up dead. Consider yourself lucky.”

“I want you to know I’m choosing to take that as a compliment,” Sam quips, placing his hand over his heart.

“Don’t worry, Sam," Natasha smirks over her shoulder. "She’s more bark than bite. And this is me calling in a favor.”

Your eyes narrow at Natasha, "Which favor?"

"Budapest."

Your mouth narrows into a thin line as you glare at her. You hated that favor.

You look back at the three of them. Even dressed in street clothes they all stuck out like sore thumbs. They’re all disheveled, clearly exhausted, and you did owe Natasha. You convince yourself that there is no good in this deed, it’s just a repayment. Even as your eyes linger back to Sam for a second too long. You tell yourself you don't care what happens to any of them. It's just paying a debt. “Fine. Just keep me out of it.”

Natasha nods, offering a small grateful smile, “Thank you.”

You turn on your heels without another word, striding down to your room. You slam your bedroom door shut, leaving the others on their own.

“It was nice meeting you,” Sam calls after you.

You don’t bother to reply.

After a few hours, the sun sets and your safe house returns back to its normal quiet state except for the soft snores of Steve Rogers in your spare bedroom. You’re certain that they’ve all gone off to get some rest. That is, everyone, except Sam Wilson.

“Have a good nap?” Sam greets you, sitting on the small couch in the middle of your living room.

Your eyes snap over to Sam, lightly scoffing, “Actually, I was avoiding you.”

Your brutal honestly doesn’t phase Sam. The corner of his mouth twitches up as he playfully tugs on the collar of his t-shirt, “I tend to have that effect on the ladies… That sounded better in my head.”

“For you and me both,” you quip.

“You know, you’re kind of a jackass.”

“I know. Thanks.” That's the only conversation you plan on having with Sam Wilson. You continue walking to the kitchen without saying anything else.

"So how long have you and Nat been friends?" Sam asks, trailing you as you walk to your kitchen, clearly not taking the hint that you don't want to talk to him.

You scoff over your shoulder, "Who said we were friends?"

"So you're not friends? Because the whole letting us hide out here, housing us, letting us eat your food, not turning us in, sorta gave me a different idea."

"We're not friends."

In truth, your relationship to Natasha was much more complex than that. At one point, you were like sisters. In the Red Room, she was all you had. Your only friend. Your confidante. And still, you could never quite live up to her, always second to her. You knew all her secrets, all the blood spilt, all the skeletons in her closet, and she knew all of yours.

The night before your graduation, you ran. As far away and as quickly as your legs could carry you.

You were never quite sure if it was irony or simply Dreykov’s own cruelty, but she was the one tasked to find you and collect you. You never stood much of a chance against the person that spent almost two decades besting you. She found you in Budapest. It would’ve taken a single shot. And still, it never came.

But you weren’t going to tell that to Sam.

"You're not friends?”

"No."

After that, your paths crossed only once in a blue moon. Once Natasha left Dreykov, she never sought you out. And you didn’t bother to either. You weren’t friends. You weren’t enemies. She was the sister that became little more than a stranger.

"Do you help all your not friends run from the law?"

"Natalia and I have an agreement of ... mutually assured destruction."

"Mutually assured destruction?" he dubiously repeats, quirking an eyebrow. "...So best friends."

In spite of your best efforts, your outwardly stoic expression gives way as a chuckle bubbles out of your mouth.

"Did anyone see that?” Sam proudly announces to the empty house. “I want it on the record that I made a Black Widow laugh!"

"Don't push it," you warn, though the hint of a smile that pulls at the corner of your mouth dampens the threatening undertone of your words.

"You've got a nice smile," Sam compliments.

You wipe the smile off your face, but there's nothing you can do to tame the slight blush creeping up your face, so you say the first thing that comes to mind, "Fuck off."

That's how it went between you and him. Push and pull.

Their time at your safe house in Scotland was short lived. No more than a few weeks. And even in those few short weeks, he saw it, saw the good that you desperately tried to keep hidden. Even then he knew, he knew you cared so much more than you would ever let on. Cooped up in your little cottage, he found that behind your barbed words and tough exterior, was a person that he really liked. You didn't let him see very much of it. Most of the time, it was in little slip ups, little cracks in your armor, but he saw it. He swore he did.

Sam ambles alone through the streets of New York, the pavement is still damp from the midnight rain, the noisy cityscape is the only thing keeping Sam from fixating on the endless loop of memories playing in his head.

He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t think about you anymore. He did. All the time.

He thinks about how good it used to be. How even on the run, constantly looking over your shoulder, it was good. He'd like to think you were as happy as he was.

In truth, he wasn't sure how or when it happened. You weren't very nice to him - to any of them really. You kept them at arm's length. He had to earn every glimpse of the person behind the armor. He had to earn every smile, every laugh, but he found each one was worth it. To him, you were worth it. You were worth all of it.

And when that time came, when that safe house wasn't safe anymore, you stayed by his side, you became his home.

You simply walked up to the breakfast table and announced that it wasn't safe to stay much longer. "You have to leave."

"What?"

"We've been here too long. People in town are beginning to talk."

Natasha didn't miss a beat. "How long?"

"Tonight."

Sam watches the interaction closely. You refuse to look at him. For a moment, Natasha's eyes look at you, imploring. She utters a quiet question in Russian.

You don't respond, only shaking your head once.

"I understand." She softly inhales, her shoulders slumping slightly, "Thank you."

You nod, turning on your heels and heading to your room. You didn't expect Sam to follow after you.

There's some part of you that's unsettled by how easily Sam fits into your life. You don't like how he speaks to you like you're friends. You don't like that there's a part of you that would love to know what being in Sam's life would feel like. And you most certainly don't like that Sam has no problem questioning you. Prying into your life. He won't like what he finds. He'll run the moment he sees the number of skeletons in your closet. No, you don't like that at all.

And you definitely don't like that he feels comfortable enough to follow you back to your bedroom. He wedges himself into your doorway, leaning against the wall, "So what about you?"

You don't turn to look at him as you pack your duffle bag, "What about me?"

"Where you gonna go?"

"I have other places."

"By yourself?"

"Typically."

"Why don't you stay with us?"

You pretend like you're surprised by the offer. As though Natasha didn't offer the same thing two minutes ago. You just didn't expect Sam's kindness to extend past his need for your safe house. "What?"

He takes a step off the wall. Even turned away from him, you can practically hear the grin he wears in his words. "We could always use the help. You seem like kind of a pro at being a fugitive."

"I don't think your team would appreciate my presence."

"I would. I want you to come." Sam turns back at the doorframe. He pauses for a moment, looking back at you. "You should come with us."

You never told him why you ended up joining them. It was the one question he couldn't ever get a straight answer for.

He couldn't really remember how or when you ended up in his bed - or more accurately, when he ended up in your bed.

All he knew was that for two years, you were his sanctuary. Each and every night. He held you. Kissed away your fears. You allowed him to see parts of you that you buried long ago.

It made the moment you walked away hurt even more.

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing here. He's pacing through the streets of New York in the middle of the night. It won't bring you back. It won't change what happened. You still left him.

It was easier believing that you left him because you didn't love him.

The other option hurts. It hurts too much. His heart almost shatters at the though of you leaving him because you didn't see it working out, because you thought you would hurt him.

That's the worst part - he believes Bucky. He believes that no one, not even someone as prone to finding trouble as you are, would ever go on the run with someone for the hell of it. Not unless you cared. Not unless you loved him.

He should've seen it. The panic in your eyes when he suggested going back to Louisiana. The pain when you lost Natasha, the last person you considered family.

It eats at him. He didn't even try. Not really. Yeah, you walked away, but he could've gone after you. He could've believed in the love he knew you shared.

He reaches for his phone, tucking into the crook of his neck as he hails a cab, and calls the one person that could possibly help him, "I need your help. Can you find someone for me?"

1 Year Earlier - Somewhere in Eastern Europe

“Stop watching me sleep.”

Sam kisses your bare shoulder, resting his chin on your arm, “It’s the only time you’re not frowning. Except when you’re with me, of course.”

You sleepily sigh, trying to suppress the smile that Sam so effortlessly puts on your face. You halfheartedly push him away, rolling further away from him, “I’m going back to sleep.”

Sam’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him, “No, come back.”

“We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, we should get the rest while we can.”

“I miss you,” Sam whines.

“I’m right here.”

“But we’re always talking about work, about the world ending, I just - I just want a minute, just me and you.”

You finally turn around to face him with a cheeky grin, “You had me to yourself all night, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

You settle against him, resting your head on his chest, “So why couldn’t you sleep?”

He smiles down at you, absentmindedly playing with your fingers, “I was thinking.”

“About?” you urge.

“What comes next. After the fight, after everything, about going home, finally seeing my family again. My sister would love you. I can't wait to introduce you."

Your smile slips from your face. "What?"

"I mean, I know we're on the run and everything, but I'm still holding onto hope," Sam confesses. "You'd love Louisiana."

A sinking feeling overtakes you. Those survival instincts you've spent your entire life cultivating bubble up. You could see Sam's family picture where he left it on the dresser. His picture perfect, shiny family.

That wasn't you. Not even in your wildest dreams could that be you. The closest thing you had to a family was the Black Widow sitting in the other room cleaning her knives. You weren't meant for domesticity. You weren't built for the happy ending that Sam deserved. The happy ending he wanted.

Sure, he loved you now, but would he love you when his family looks at you with disdain? Would he love you when Sarah refuses to let you anywhere near his nephews?

Or even worse, what if he did? What if he loved you through it all and you broke him in return? What if he loved you and he lost everything else because of it?

You could tell Sam. Right here and now. Tell him that you weren't built for that life. He would listen. He would hear you. Like all of your other scars and imperfections, Sam would take it in stride. You knew he would.

But could you really do that to him? Doom him to a life tethered to someone so tainted.

He was perfect. In every conceivable way. He was Sunshine. And though you'd done unspeakable things, there would be nothing quite as vile as dragging him down to the dim, murky depths of the wasteland you called home.

He deserved more. More than you would ever be.

6 Months Ago - A Bar in New York City

"You don't have to do this."

You bitterly chuckle. It was too late. You'd made up your mind. You gave yourself until the war against Thanos was won. You gave yourself that time to say your silent goodbyes, to memorize the one and only love you would ever allow yourself to have. You were selfish in that way.

Now was the time to save Sam while you still could, to finally set him free. Even if you had to break his heart to do it. You rest your hand on Bucky's chest, the furthest you could allow yourself to go without making your stomach turn. "Do what?"

Bucky's jaw ticks, "He's a good man."

"I know." It's the only time your voice reveals even an ounce of your pain. Your eyes flicker to over Bucky's shoulder. It's too late. Sam stands a few feet from you, watching you with anguish in his eyes. For good measure, you lean in closer, whispering in Bucky's ear, "But I never did well with sunshine."

"Can I talk to you outside?" Sam demands.

You roll your eyes and snort, "If we have to."

"We do."

Sam doesn't waste a single moment. The second you step outside, he points back to the bar, "What the hell was that?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you kidding me? I saw you. You were all over him. He's my friend!"

"I was just having a little fun, Sam."

"A little fun?" Sam scoffs. "Are you kidding me?"

You don't allow a single ounce of remorse to show. You don't allow him to see the regret. Your face is purposely blank, cold and uncaring. You were good at this part. You were good at hurting people. It's exactly why you have to let him go. "I don't see what the big deal is, Sam."

"You don't see what the big deal is?" Sam's voice wavers. "You were just coming onto my friend! What about us?"

"What about us?" you scoff. "I was bored, Sam, we had our fun but it's done now. We're not on the run anymore. It's not a big deal."

"Just like that, we're just done?"

"You were there, Sam," you lie through your teeth. Acid churns in your stomach, rising up through your esophagus and coating your every word. "There's nothing more to it, nothing more to us."

You'd done a lot of bad things in your life, but nothing made you feel quite as wretched as watching Sam's heart shatter before you. It was better this way. He didn't know it, but it was for the best. You couldn't ruin his life anymore. You couldn't hurt him if you walked away right now. Those were the last words you ever said to him.

He did it. He couldn't believe it. He'd found you. There you were, standing out on a rooftop, out in the pouring midnight rain. He almost laughs because of course you wouldn't even realize how theatrical this whole scene was. "Do you realize how dramatic it is to be standing out in the pouring rain all by yourself? And without an umbrella?"

"I'm working, Sam."

"Shooting your next romantic comedy? Is this the breakup scene?"

You don't even turn to look at him. “You shouldn’t be here, Sam.”

Sam scoffs, “That’s all you have to say? That I shouldn’t be here?”

“Go home, Sam," you demand. "I don’t want you here.”

“You’re such a jackass, you know that?”

It pisses him off that you still refuse to even look at him. If you were going to break his heart all over again, the least you could do was look him in the eye. You speak through clenched teeth, "I know."

He storms around, planting himself in front of you, forcing you to look at him. "No, I mean that, I really, truly, from the bottom of my heart, I mean that. You're such an asshole. You're one of the most difficult, abrasive, cold, and selfish people I've ever met."

You can't bring yourself to meet his gaze. You look just past him, mustering every ounce of your training to stay stone faced, "I know."

"Do you know how hard it was to find you?"

"I didn't ask you to come here," you spit at him. "I didn't want you to come looking for me. You knew that."

"And you're a liar!" Sam exclaims, a bitter laugh bubbling up from his chest. "A damned good one, too."

"I never lied to you about who or what I was."

"But you did lie, didn't you? You've lied to me before."

“Yes, I have," you softly admit. You catch yourself, reminding yourself of why you're being so harsh with Sam. You force yourself to speak with that venomous tone you know all too well, "Many times, so if you’re done insulting me, I have to go.”

"God, you're so selfish, and- and you're mean! You brood way too much. You're so fucking angsty all the time. You act like the tortured character in every shitty teen movie every made. You're inconsiderate. You don't listen. I swear, talking to you is like talking to a brick wall. And sometimes - sometimes, I want to hate you so much."

It takes everything in you to sound as unaffected as you do. You quirk an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your chest, "Is that why you came here? Because you're upset?"

"Upset?" Sam incredulously repeats, taking a step toward you. He's still several feet away from you, still far out of your reach, "No, I'm not upset. I was upset six months ago. Now, I'm angry. I'm pissed off - with you. I have never been so mad at another human being in my entire life."

"I didn't do anything to you. You knew who I was - who I am."

"You think that's why I'm pissed? I'm pissed because you made me like you. I'm pissed that you made me fall so hopelessly in love with you."

For the first time in six months, your eyes find his. His warm eyes, the ones that grounded you through storms of midnight rain. He'd never said he loved you before - there's no taking that back. You suck in a breath, "Sam."

"I'm pissed because I believed you when you said you were bored. But mostly, I'm pissed that I let you go, that I let you walk away without fighting for you."

You try to warn him, beg him to stop before he says something that'll make it too hard to walk away from him. "Sam."

"Because I'm in love with you."

Your voice wavers as you beg him, "Don't do this, Sam."

"I'm in love with you," Sam announces again to his audience of one. "And I know you don't think you're good for me. And I know that it won't be easy, but I am. I am in love with you. Every part of you. Especially the parts you don't like. I like that you're mean, I like that you're tougher than any other person I've ever met, I like that you're grumpy. I like that you don't see how dramatic it is to stand in the pouring rain all by yourself! I love you. I love all of you."

"Sam..." His name leaves your mouth in a whisper. It's too late. You're not strong enough to survive walking away from him. He's doomed himself.

He takes a step closer to you. "And maybe it wasn't real... but I think it was. I think you feel the same." And then another step. And yet another. Until you're face to face, close enough that you could reach out and touch him for the first time in months. The rain beats down on the two of you. The dampness on your cheeks has nothing to do with the rain. "Tell me that you don't love me and I'll leave. Tell me and I won't bother you again, I promise."

You can't. You can't bring yourself to say any of it. "Sam, it'll never work for us. You have to know that."

"We're not at war anymore." His hand skates across your cheek. "We don't have to hide. We don't have to run."

"I'm not - I'm not good, Sam." And you are, you want to say.

“No, no, you’re not good. You’re great. You’re amazing. And it’s a damn shame you haven’t stepped into the daylight long enough to see how incredible you are.”

You jerk your face away from his hand, “And what if I can’t give you what you want? What if I can’t be what you want?”

“What do you know about what I want?”

“You want a bride. You want someone to bring home to your family - that’s not me, Sam. I don’t think that’ll ever be me.”

“I want you." Sam takes your face in between both hands, begging you to see the sincerity in his eyes. "I want you in whatever way you’ll have me.”

“I’m not worth it," you softly exhale. "You have to know that I’m not worth the trouble and the heartache I’ll put you through.”

“Break my heart," Sam offers without hesitation. "Do it over and over again. Do it for the rest of our lives. It’s all yours. You’re worth it.”

“Sam…” You didn’t have any other defense. He’d broken down each and every argument you spent years cultivating. You didn’t know where to go from here.

“Do you love me?” Your lips press into a thin line, eyes squeezing shut to keep the tears welling in your eyes from falling. The rain slows to a halt. His thumb and pointer finger grip your chin, forcing you to meet his warm brown eyes. “Do you love me?”

“I love you.” You don't think you've ever said those words before. You don't think you've ever seen the daylight until you saw him. It'll take time for your eyes to adjust, but he's worth it. "I love you so much it hurts, so much that I let you go."

“You don't have to let me go anymore. We'll figure the rest out together."

Sam Wilson Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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avalynlestrange · 1 year ago

Text

Opposite

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

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

youtube

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

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

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

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

Request: anon requested

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

Word Count: <2k

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

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

“Mattheo says I’m his type.”

Your ears prickle at the mention of his name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was a week ago.

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

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

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

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

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

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

“Pass me the butter?” Daphne requests.

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

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

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

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

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

You saw Pansy glare at Susan.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hear hear!”

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

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

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

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

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

“Get a room!” You hear Blaise chuckle.

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

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

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

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have never said that!”

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

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

You look up and his eyes meet with yours.

“I don’t want the world. I want you.”

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

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

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film-bro-hotch · 1 year ago

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I Can See You - Hotch x Fem!Reader (one-shot)

I have had the idea for this one-shot ever since this song came out, and I wrote it in the middle of the night in an attempt to stay up and fight jetlag. This is going to be posted quite literally as I am in the airport about to move to a foreign country, so please enjoy.

Summary: You and Hotch start something outside of work that slowly starts to make its way into your on-the-clock time in more risky ways. Based on I Can See You by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: smut 18+, oral (m receiving), semi-public sex, workplace relationships (?) but like in the most disruptive way possible

WC: 2k

'Cause I can see you waitin' down the hall from me And I could see you up against the wall with me And what would you do, baby, if you only knew? That I can see you

The past three months had been filled with what everyone assumed to be the mundane, typical occurrences of amicable coworkers. Passing of paper, catching glances of him from across the room during a briefing, occasionally brushing polyester suit jackets against each other in the elevator. They were insignificant. Or at least that is what everyone thought.

It’s what you wanted them to see. And to be completely honest, it’s what you thought at first too. Why would you possibly think your older, recently divorced boss would be interested in you?

Yet here you were on the BAU jet after a case. He was sitting next to you, both working on some paperwork to officially close the case you had just been working on. You couldn't remember a specific detail from the case.

“Hey, Hotch, how many rounds of ammo did this guy have in his basement again?” “Enough I think he was doomsday prepping. Local PD was still getting an accurate number when we were leaving. I’ll call them when we land.” His tone was nonchalant enough, you really didn’t think much of it.

An hour later you were at your desk, getting ready to pack up when he came by, close enough that he was brushing your shoulder. He had picked up a pen from your desk and wrote the number down on your documents.

Odd moments like this kept happening. Sometimes he would lean a little closer than usual to show you one of the various drawings Jack made that he had stuck on the fridge. When you asked him for help on some grueling paperwork, your shoulders often touched. You would go to turn in administrative work and instead of putting it in the designated basket on his desk, you handed it directly to him, his fingers brushing yours. If you looked close enough, you could have sworn you saw his ears go a little red.

No one had said anything yet, which filled you partly with relief. Emily and JJ not saying anything was normal. They may be profilers, but they were both pretty good at keeping their noses out of their coworkers’ business. Who wasn’t so good at that was Penelope. If anyone was going to catch on to it, it would be her. And she would say something to you.

The fact that she hadn’t made you feel a little crazy. Were you really just reading too much into things? Were you projecting?

That was until one day after everyone was gone, he asked you to dinner.

You said yes, of course, though partly in the back of your head you wondered if it was more of a friendly coworker ‘well, we are both off and have nothing else to do’ dinner date than a date date. Any concerns of that were crushed when at the door of your apartment he kissed you. You had imagined his lips a few times already, thin and usually in some kind of disapproving frown. They were soft against yours, and you could feel the gentle scratch of his stubble on your chin.

When he pulled away, you expected maybe a form of regret, a look that read ‘what have I done?’ Instead, he just looked hungry for more.

“I know I shouldn’t have,” he says.

“But you did.” And so you gave him more. You both tumbled into your apartment. Your hands were in his hair, his hand was grabbing your ass as he continued to kiss you. You remember making it to the bed, and you remember that he spent the night at your place that night.

After that, work with Aaron looked much like it had the past few months. Business as usual with only stolen moments of tenderness, when your hands touched, his calloused fingers brushed yours for just a moment as he handed you a report and asked you to turn it in at 5:00 before you went home. You didn’t let the team catch the way your eyes linger on him for just a moment longer than what was socially appropriate for co-workers, how your gaze went from his eyes to his lips, usually pressed in a thin line. No one saw how in that cramped elevator, the last part of your morning commute, he would sometimes get closer, let one finger from the hand holding his briefcase curl with your pinkie.

That had been the two of you for the last three months. Professional. You just weren’t sure how much longer you could take professional.

It started out simple enough. You were in his office for a legitimate reason. JJ had been out sick and as the only other person with a communication background, her work fell on you, though you didn’t mind. You were there to hand him a stack of briefings for potential cases, and as he started to flip through them, you casually slipped a hand on top of his thigh, your fingers curling towards his inner thigh, your thumb rubbing circles against the fabric of his pants. You could feel his pulse rise, his sharp intake of breath, see his eyes dart straight toward his door, the blinds that were open. There was a certain thrill in the danger of being caught. “What?” you asked coyly. “Scared of being found out?” “I’m not-it’s not that.” He was flustered. “We are at work. And your hands are cold.”

“Oh, I am very aware,” you said, abruptly pulling your hand from his and standing straight. “JJ should be back tomorrow, but if you have any other questions on these, just let me know,” you said, continuing on like you hadn’t just turned his face red with a touch or given him an awful boner in the middle of work.

Later that week, you had left your desk to give yourself one more cup of coffee considering you knew you would be working later than usual to finish up some details on a file. You usually go down the hall and sneak into another department’s kitchen to use a couple flavoring syrups. Passing a nook, you felt a hand grab you and pull you back, another hand settling on your lower back as Hotch pulled you into a kiss. Your surprised grunt was muffled by his lips, his teeth nearly busting your lips when they crashed into you.

“What the hell are you doing?” you breathed. “We are at work.”

“This is the only place on this floor besides a janitor's closet that isn’t on camera. And I didn’t exactly think cleaning chemicals gave the most romantic mood.” He said it completely seriously, like he had actually given this thought.

“Wait, how did you know I was even going to be here?”

“You always get a second cup when you are planning to stay past 5:00. And you never get coffee from the BAU’s kitchen. You go down the hall to data science because they have better variety. I just happened to take a break right before you went for a refill, and I happened to be in the one corner that cameras don’t reach.” His tone was matter-of-fact, like he was reading from a textbook rather than the romantic declaration that he actually paid attention to your habits.

“It’s really hot when you pay attention, you know,” you said, reaching up for another kiss, but Hotch pulled back.

“Got to get back to work,” he said, the edge of his lips curled into a know, shit-eating grin. Bastard.

The tipping point came nearly a month later. The two of you had been at this little game ever since, trying to see who could make the other the most flustered, and things were getting progressively more risky. The closest call so far had been when you two thought you were the only ones left for the day, but Morgan had come back to grab his thermos he had left on his desk.

On this day, you were working at your desk when Aaron called you into his office. It wasn’t an occurrence, but something did start to feel off when he asked you to shut the door.

“Lock it for good measure,” he added, moving quite close to you to shut the blinds.

You hardly got his name out of your mouth before he kissed you, nearly banging your body against the door, which clearly would have alerted someone. You found your hand intuitively going around his neck, one cradling his cheek as he kissed you. “What the hell are you doing?” you finally were able to ask between breathless pants.

“You’re driving me crazy.”

“I’ve hardly done anything.”

He pulls away then, pointing towards his desk. “We have five minutes before anyone gets suspicious.” You were already ahead of him, pulling him towards his desk, your hands already reaching for his belt. He was eager to help you, unclasping the buckle in one fell swoop. Even through the lining of his pants you could see his bungle. You wondered how long he had been thinking about doing this all day, thinking of you.

He slid his pants off part of the way, your fingers going to grip him, only his boxer keeping your flesh from touching. He had to be sensitive. Even just the friction from your hand and the fabric made him hum in approval. “If we are going to do this, you are going to need to keep quiet,” you said. Your hands moved from his crotch to his neck, unlacing his tie with ease. Haphazardly bundling it up, you shoved the mess of fabric into his mouth to shut him up.

“Wait,” you heard him say, having removed the makeshift gag. He shook his arms out of his suit jacket, taking the most surely expensive coast and folding it, placing it on the ground. It took you a moment to realize what he was getting out, but you started to understand when he happily put the gag back in his mouth. Kindly, he had made his jacket into a cushion for your knees so you could be comfortable while sucking him off and making him scream. And you planned to do just that.

Your fingers gripped the elastic of his boxers, pulling them down and freeing his dick. Spitting in your hand, you began to run your hand along the length of him, slowly, oh so agonizingly slowly. From the corner of your eye, you could see the way he gripped the edge of his desk, practically begging you to go a little faster, use a little more pressure. You kept up the facade for a bit, listening to his near desperate hums before placing your lips on the tip, running your tongue along it and hearing his muffled groan in response.

You started to move your hand a little faster, your tongue picking up the place along with it. You loved to see the way his knuckles went white, the way he was gripping the desk for dear life.

“Please,” you heard his muffled whimper.

“I’m sorry, dear, what was that?” you asked from your position below him.

Quickly, he ripped out his gag, one hand still gripping the desk as he said, “For the love of god, please stop tormenting me.”

You were happy to oblige him, beginning to move your hand up and down as well as flicking your tongue along his tip, feeling the muscles in his thigh and his abdomen tense and clench before he finally released. At the last second, he muffled his cry with the tie, nearly sinking back into the desk as you wiped himself from your lips.

Standing and brushing your knees off, you motioned to the door. “Put your pants on so I can get the hell out of here and hope no one noticed.”

He took a moment to compose himself, tucking his shirt back in and trying his best to straighten out his tie. He opened the blinds and unlocked the door, sending you on your way with a simple, “Please make sure those are on my desk before the end of the day.”

You were certain he was planning on returning the favor.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch #song fic #based on a taylor swift song #aaron hotchner smut #hotch smut #hotch x fem!reader smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfic

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i-suc-at-art · 7 months ago

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Ummm.. I really love this fic

*hands @basilf1res this gently*

Any ways go read project “GH05T” it’s really good :)

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emloafs · 3 days ago

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a binary boyfriends au where the house fight on December 19th never happened, demetri and eli never make up in high school, and the universe keeps pushing them back together (Boston college au)

aka I wanna gage if anyone would read this fic..... (it's already almost entirely written)

Demetri is having a shitty morning, so he can’t catch a break.

Maybe he was moving too fast. Maybe he was in a rush to get back to his apartment and finally attempt the other nine pages of the ten-page essay he should’ve already finished. Maybe the whole thing could be blamed on his long limbs or his natural clumsiness, but Demetri is fully convinced that this guy ran into him. Not the other way around.

And there goes his second coffee of the day–all over his sneakers, the cafe floor, and the guy who shoulder-checked him at full force.

“Shit!”

“C’mon, man!” the guy barks at the same time.

The guy has the hood of his green sweatshirt pulled up over his head, likely doing very little against the weather outside. He’s got wired earbuds in–like all pretentious douchebags do–and Demetri bitterly thinks he must have his music too loud to be aware of his surroundings, hence the collision. His worn utility jacket may have saved the hoodie from the spill but it looks completely ruined now.

Arguably, Demetri is much better off, notably not covered in hot coffee. But, this is his second spilled coffee in a single morning, and the universe is out to get him, so this guy isn't going to hear the end of it.

“You ran into me!” Demetri protests, fuming.

The guy flicks both his arms a few times, trying to wring out any dripping coffee from his coat sleeves.

Demetri’s never been good at biting his tongue and right now he’s too pissed to hold back. “Maybe if you were actually paying attention to the world around you, and not just plowing in here without a care for other customers or your surroundings, you wouldn’t have ran me over! You know, that’s my second spilled coffee today. I have half a mind to demand you get me a new one-”

The guy finally looks up seemingly to find who is responsible for dumping a medium-sized hot latte all over him. His face is half covered by his hoodie and Demetri can only see an intense side-eye of annoyance as a response to his lecture on the important or personal space. Then, he straightens quickly and narrows his eyes, leaning slightly in to the limited space occupied by a puddle of cooling steamed milk and espresso between them.

“And truly it’s blatantly a matter of safety–”

They lock eye contact and the guy’s eyes widen comically and his eyebrows shoot up so high they disappear above the overhang of his hood.

His voice cracks a little as he interrupts Demetri’s rambling.

“Dem?”

Demetri’s words die halfway through his sentence. Does he know this guy?

The stranger shakes his head roughly and clears his throat. “Sorry, it's just- I…” He looks Demetri up and down and narrows his eyes again. “Is your name Demetri?”

And that's… odd. Demetri inspects the guy’s face as best he can under the sweatshirt hood. He seems sort of familiar, but Demetri can't place it.

Demetri shifts from one foot to the other, suddenly unsure of how to hold his weight under this guy’s intense gaze. “Um. Yes?”

“Oh my- holy shit!” The guy lets out a laugh of disbelief and pulls out his earbuds, letting them hang out of the top of his hoodie. “This is crazy.”

He roughly shoves his hood off of his head, and Demetri’s heart drops into the bottom of his stomach.

He rakes his hand through a thick mop of shaggy light brown hair. Hiding under the hood was a pair of startling blue eyes that Demetri really should’ve recognized. As the not-so-stranger pats the hoodie down behind his neck, Demetri has a clear picture of his entire face. And just before Demetri can come up with a plausible theory on doplegängers, his eyes land on the faint scar rippling from the guy’s upper lip to his nose.

There's just no goddamn way.

So, since Demetri really can’t catch a break this morning, his childhood best friend, Eli Moskowitz, is standing in front of him, covered in his second latte of the morning.

And Demetri wants to say fuck off or what are you doing here or get out of my city or honestly just walk away, but he’s rendered completely frozen. Demetri feels a little like a cartoon character when their jaw completely unhinges and hits the floor with a comical clang. He’s left buffering like a YouTube video being played with a shitty wifi connection.

He hasn’t seen Eli since high school. Hasn’t talked to him in even longer. It’s probably been four years since they last spoke. Not that Demetri is counting. What the hell is he doing in Boston? What the hell is he doing this close to MIT? Just… what the hell?

Eli’s excited expression falters when Demetri doesn’t respond. He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.

“It’s uh- It’s Eli. Moskowitz?”

Demetri notes first that he introduces himself as Eli, not that ridiculous nickname he coined in school.

He says it as if Demetri doesn’t know. He says it as if Demetri wouldn’t recognize him faster than the back of his own hand even all these years later. His hair is long, too long. It’s curling over his ears and nearly touching his shoulders, and Demetri is pissed because it still looks good. He looks older, he looks better, and all Demetri can see is the tiny Eli he met in first grade who was missing both his front teeth.

Demetri doesn’t know what to make of any of it. This feels like some cosmic joke.

“Uh, no, yeah. Yeah. What- What are you doing here?” Demetri finally manages. His voice sounds a little strangled, but the question comes out bluntly and a bit harsh.

“Uh,” Eli starts, glancing around, and letting out a confused laugh. He raises an eyebrow and shoves his hands in his pockets, gesturing with his coat around the cafe. “Getting coffee? What are you doing here?” he teases.

Demetri really doesn’t have time for this. He rolls his eyes. “Not here. What are you doing in Boston?” he demands.

Eli’s playful expression falls. He furrows his eyebrows. “I live here.”

And that’s- that can’t be right. Demetri lives here. Demetri just started his second semester of his junior year at MIT a month ago. He certainly would’ve noticed if Eli Moskowitz lived in Boston. Right?

“You live… in Boston?”

“Yeah,” Eli shrugs, looking much too nonchalant for Demetri’s liking. “I go to BU.” He cocks his head slightly to the side and earnestly says, “I thought you knew that.”

Demetri did not know that. That’s the thing about no contact. Demetri’s had Eli blocked in all forms of communication since their junior of high school. It’s sort of hard to keep tabs on someone when they’re pretty strictly out-of-sight, out-of-mind.

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aurae-rori · 5 months ago

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don't ask me why i desperately wish to be included in the city's night

“children of the city”

— aventio/ratiorine fic

— post-penacony relationship

— dr. ratio analysis sorta with introspection, poetic narratives, philosophy, and dissociation

— based on children of the city by mili, but shoutout to agoraphobia the song for being awesome

— 4.1k words

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to-indeed-be-a-godd · 5 months ago

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La Vie en rose

Neil sighed his head beginning to hurt from studying the words against the script, he had practically all his lines memorized except for the few spoken in french, specifically when his character was meant to hold an entire conversation in the language.

“je…sais..que-que je-“

he groaned unable to pronounce the words taking a deep breath and repeating them.

“je sais …que je t'aime..” He said the words finally able to pronounce them as the familiar blond walked into their room raising an eyebrow surprised.

“You speak french?” Todd asked shyly setting his things down on the bed as Neil sighed toss the script back on his bed.

“I wish, i have to say things in french for this play i’m doing” the blond made a small o shape with his mouth before taking the book from his desk and playing his walkman as he read, his face focused as a stray piece of hair dangled over his eyes, Neil’s fingers burned to tuck the stray strand of hair behind the others ear but held back still reciting the words over and over.

“je sais que je t'aime”

Eventually it began rolling off his tongue a bit however his accent was anything but believable as he sighed his headache getting worse each time he repeated his he phrase till finally his roommate set down his book and stood up.

“You aren’t saying it correctly.” He said bluntly looking at Neil before holding his hand out for Neil to give him the script which he handed over.

Todd read it carefully, “je sais que je t'aime, n'est-ce pas suffisant?” the words rolled off his tongue leaving Neil in a state of shock and completely flustered, as if this boy couldn’t get anymore perfect.

“i’m sorry…you speak french?!” He stumbled over his words looking at Todd a mix of excitement and shock.

“I learned a bit growing up…” He replied sheepishly handing Neil back the script.

“wait wait so how do you say it?” Neil asked because he needed to know how to pronounce the words and not because his roommate speaking french was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

“je sais..” he said waiting for Neil to repeat after him the two following along with the other through each word.

“je sais que je t'aime, n'est-ce pas suffisant” Todd said again and Neil repeated in a good enough way that Todd gave him a proud smile.

“What does it mean anyways?” Neil asked curiously noticing the slight blush against the others features, god this boy had Neil’s heart doing backflips every second.

“Oh..I know i love you…isn’t that enough?” He mumbled sitting back down against his bed as Neil thought for a second.

“so i love you is?” he asked knowing how dangerous this game he was playing was but so desperate to hear the words come from the others mouth.

“Je vous aime” Todd said softly his eyes meeting Neil’s and oh god Neil’s heart might have stopped.

“je vos-“ he tried to say it knowing he was butchering the pronunciation.

“Je vous aime” The blond repeated slower as Neil stepped closer as they both fell into a rhythm of Todd repeating the words as Neil stepped closer trying to mimic it until Neil was practically standing between Todd’s legs neither breaking eye contact.

“Je vous aime” Todd’s voice was so small practically a whisper that made Neil’s heart sing, there was little Neil loved more then acting but for Todd, Neil would give the world for Todd, he’d give anything to hear him utter those words once more.

“puis-je t'embrasser?” Neil had no clue what he had said all he knew it sounded like a question and all he could do was silently nod before he felt soft lips press against his.

It was sweet and soft but desperate and affectionate, like both of them had been wishing for this for an eternity.

Neil was kissing the most beautiful boy he had ever met, and who apparently spoke french.

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moonstruck-poet · 1 year ago

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Rewrite The Stars

Pairing - Kaz Brekker x reader

Summary - The story of how you two manage to unravel the complexities that concern a relationship based on the song 'Rewrite The Stars'

Hope you'll enjoy it!!!

You know I want you, it's not a secret I try to hide. You know you want me, so don't keep saying our hands are tied.

Kaz Brekker, you muttered under your breath and kicked a small stone with as much strength as you could muster, ignoring the sharp pain that followed.

He really was impossible that one. Tested your patience to such a level that you were almost considering giving up.

Almost.

But you weren't known as the never giving up person for nothing. You would try to make him see sense.

You halted in your path towards the Crow Club to analyse your thoughts which were a hundred percent occupied by that young boy whom everyone called Dirtyhands.

He had you completely charmed, as could be observed since he was the one running rent free through your mind at all times when you weren't risking your life for the same man.

So taking a deep breath and resting your hand on your holster, you entered your home with a poker face and scanned everything to see that all was going on smoothly.

"All good here?" You questioned Rotty and downed a shot of whiskey, scrunching your nose at the bitter after taste.

"Everything under control ma'am, got a lotta good pigeons," he grinned and your lips twitched sideways.

"What's up, Jes?" You asked the gunslinger who was sitting on one of the stools near the bar, twirling his pistol in his hand.

"Nothing, I'm bored. Need some action," he groaned and stretched upwards.

"Of course you do," you laughed softly. "Where are the others?"

"Off doing saints know what".

"Kaz still ain't budging?" He asked suddenly, his tone a little gentler.

"No," you said shortly and clenched your jaw. Suddenly not wanting to thing about him.

Jesper sighed loudly, "He is one of the most idiotic person I know. He doesn't even seem to realise he's missing out on the best thing that's happened to him".

You smiled at that, it was a small one but nevertheless a smile after all.

"If I wasn't so unbelievably enamoured by messy haired guys who are quite a shot at chemistry, I would've gone for you honestly".

"I'm flattered, Fahey".

"But seriously tho, love. What's his reason for denying you, huh?"

"Kaz thinks we're not good together," you answered abruptly.

"Not good together my ass," he rolled his eyes in utter annoyance. "You deserve so much better than him. I don't understand how you even managed to fall for him".

"Falling for him wasn't falling at all, Jes. It was like walking into a house and just knowing that you're home," you whispered.

And there he was, the hindrance to your concentration, the object of your continuous staring, Kaz Brekker.

He took off his hat, revealing his rather well defined featured that seemed to be sculpted with a help of a knife.

Your eyes took his figure in. Those all black clothes with that unmistakable cane was his entire persona that he had built for himself.

Your gaze softened at the sight of his messed up hair, the few strands that had fallen on his pale forehead making your heart skip a tiny beat.

"You really love him don't you?" You snapped from your staring at Jesper's question."I guess I do," you answered, eyes following him as he walked towards you with what you assumed to be another one of those tasks that he always gave you, just because of the amount of trust he had.

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

You claim it's not in the cards and fate is pulling you miles away and out of a reach from me. But you're hearing my heart so who can stop me if I decide, it's on my destiny?

"Fucking hell this idiot of a man," you groaned and ran frantically towards the mount of wounded people.

You had indeed raided one of the most well protected safe of the most dangerous person and there were bound to be major consequences.

Your heart dropped after seeing Wylan lying near a building wreckage and you sprinted despite the throbbing pain in your calf and ignoring the blood flowing down one side of your head and torso.

"Hey," you whispered, getting down to your knees and shaking the boy. "Wylan, come on. I need you, come on wake up," phrases fell from your lips absently.

And he did wake up and you felt as though your feet were back again on solid ground. He woke up, immediately clutching his head and looked around, eyes squinting. "Where are the others?" he said hoarsely.

"Everybody is fine, everyone except for Kaz and we're all looking for him," you murmured, the relief fading away for panic to seize control of your weak heart again.

He immediately noticed your tensed posture and really looked at you, succeeding in reading your internal turmoil.

"Up you get," he suddenly said in an authoritative voice. "We're gonna go and find Kaz right now," he got up and held out his arm for you to grasp.

You simply stared before shaking yourself off and following his lead, glad to have someone to listen to instead of following your stupid thoughts all alone.

The fear in both you and Wylan seemed to increase tenfold after witnessing gruesome scenes all around you. But you both swallowed it harshly and kept a determined spirit, him more than you actually.

Because naturally your heart always seemed to lose its stone cold interior upon the mention of a specific someone.

"Saints," Wylan suddenly came to an abrupt halt and his eyes widened as he pointed to the shed of a shop that was almost on the verge on collapsing entirely. And underneath all of that rubble was Kaz.

"Oh god," was all that escaped your lips and you didn't think before running towards him, not even noticing a large chunk of the ceiling falling om your shoulder.

"Kaz," you said, leaning down in front of him. Your throat burned at his terrible state. His hair completely dishevelled, numerous cuts and blood stains littering his body, eyes half closed as he gazed ahead endlessly.

"Kaz!" You said again and Wylan softly patted his shoulder, accidentally touching his bare skin where the shirt was torn and in the process jolting awake the unconscious boy.

"Good gracious," you prayed and stepped back after seeing the anxiety on his face. "Kaz you have to let me, or you're going to die you bastard," you frowned but waited and turned towards Wylan, "Will you go and tell the others that we've found him? They'll be there at our decided headquarters, just inform them quickly please and get Nina as soon as you can," you instructed and he set off instantly.

"I'm sorry," you whispered and clenched your jaw hard before moving closer and putting one hand behind his shoulders, your heart shattering a little at his sharp intake of breath. "I'm so sorry but I have to do this," you said with a rather broken voice and picked him up.

Halfway through the route he let out a loud groan and you almost dropped him but then steadied yourself and halted.

"What's wrong, Kaz?"

His eyes were scrunched up in pain and it was then that you noticed the bullet which was wedged on the side of his chest and you froze at the sight.

"No no no," your muscles seemed rooted to the spot and the only thought runnung through your mind was that he was going to die. Kaz Brekker was going to die.

"Shit," you muttered and hastened your pace, struggling slightly under the weight of his rather heavy body but you did manage to reach the secret meeting place just in time.

"NINA!" You yelled and placed him on the nearest couch. "NINA!"

She was out in a second, all others following close behind and breathing in sharply at the sight of their leader beaten up so badly.

"Th- There's a bullet through his s- side," you said, panting as suddenly there was a lack of oxygen in the air. "There's a bullet Nina! Quick come on you gotta get it out. You have t- to get it out, quick!"

"Wylan," Nina gestured with her eyes and he understood, gently taking you by the shoulders and pulling you away.

"No! What're you doing?! Wylan stop it!"

"He's going to be okay, let me clean up your wounds too".

"I'm fine! But he's not! He needs me okay? I- I can't leave him lying there like that! I can't- I can't-" you broke off and gulped. Your eyes tearing up as you let yourself be pulled away from him.

But tell me, how is one supposed to survive when their lifeline itself is im danger?

You were sitting in one of the rooms all alone, looking out of the window absentmindedly. Wylan had graciously cleaned and bandaged all your injuries amd you didn't even have the heart to say a simple thanks to him.

Inej had dropped by a few minutes ago with a small plate of food and you hadn't bothered to appreciate her with a small nod.

All that rang through your mind was Nina's conversation with Matthias that you had accidentally overheard.

"There were not one but two bullets, Matthias. And they were the poisonous kind, the ones that work on paralysing and slowly killing the body of the victim. He's taken quite a hit that one".

He's taken quite a hit that one...

A lump welled up in your throat as you mulled over every incident when you were on the brink of losing him forever.

Once when you two were fourteen, once when you were sixteen and now at the very tender age of seventeen, Kaz was slipping through your grasp again.

Fate was constantly pulling you apart, making you go as far as possible from each other but it had been enough now, you simply couldn't handle it.

You swallowed down the burning sensation and went quietly towards the room where Kaz was fighting for his life. Your breath got caught upon seeing his rather peaceful face. No furrowed eyebrows, not a crease on his forehead, he seemed very much at ease.

You took a seat next to him, tears on the verge of falling but you blinked then away stubbornly. You weren't one to cry that easily, but control seemed to jump out of the window whenever he was involved.

"Kaz," you whispered as though he would open his eyes that very second and you would be met with dark brown irises that you so loved.

"Here we are again huh," you murmured and heaved a deep sigh. "Its been what 3 times now that we were in this same scenario?"

You kept on making small talks, it beimg useless towards him but actually helping you to get over your emotions.

"You don't understand the way my heart breaks when you get hurt this badly, Brekker," you said softly. "I've tried to tell you so many times but you're one stubborn asshole aren't you?"

You exhaled and your eyes gazed at his beautiful features, from his sharp eyebrows, to long eyelashes and then to his perfect lips.

"You have to wake up, Kaz. You will," you said firmly. "I don't think I can function properly without you," you looked down at your hands.

"Get well soon, love," you whispered the words and despite being unconscious, rhey ringed in Kaz's ears. Love, you had called him. He felt something brush against his forehead, pushing away strands of hair and tickling him a little.

But then the warm feeling was gone and once again he was alone, cold, and empty.

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

What if we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine. Nothing could keep us apart, you'll be the one I was meant to find. It's up to you, and it's up to me, no one could say what we get to be. So why don't we rewrite the stars? And maybe the world could be ours, tonight.

"Saints this is all so ridiculous," Jesper muttered and frowned deeply at the comedic costume that he was supposed to wear. "Couldn't you have gotten something better?"

"You either have the choice to wear it or run around naked, I don't care. All I want is a proper distraction. The choice is yours," Kaz said easily and went back to scrutinising the map placed on the table.

Jesper rolled his eyes but wore the clothes anyways and you snorted making him give you a sharp glare.

"I'll shoot you, I swear," he threatened weakly when you fully cackled. "It's not fair that you get to dress up like a literal princess when I'm here looking equivalent to a clown!"

"I'm afraid you won't make a very pretty princess Jes," Inej smiled as she sharpened her knives with without even looking at them.

"Oh I don't, Inej. He might make a wonderful, lovely girl," Nina piped in and you laughed.

"Enough chatting please," Kaz interrupted your lighthearted teasing making the Heartrender scowl.

"You always have to interrupt the best moments between us don't you?" She glared but the man didn't as much give a shit.

"Wylan you're ready with your explosives? Confident they'll go off exactly when we want them to?" He asked and received a confirming nod.

"We'll leave in about five minutes exactly," he checked his watch and scanned all of the faces staring at his intently. "Off you go then. I want absolutely no detours from anyone, I'm talking especially to you, Jesper," he narrowed his stare to the Zemeni who merely shrugged and grinned.

"Goodluck everybody," he said and they all left for their respective work. "Let's go," he said to you and you got up, instantly feeling uncomfortable in the rather beautiful dress and the heels.

This was new and uncharted territory, something you had never even worn before in your entire life. But you liked it. It didn't match your usual attire at all, but a change at times was welcomed on your part.

You two were invited, or rather you had invited yourselves to the ball that was supposed to take place. It was the perfect opportunity to infiltrate and steal.

"Remember all we have to do is stay for the entire program, we cannot afford any mishaps to happen. No tiny slipups at all or the entire plan goes down the drains," Kaz said as you slowly walked to the venue.

"I know Kaz," you sighed at his nagging. "You can trust me, you know?"

"I know," he said lowly and looked straight up, refusing to make eye contact.

Your eyes flitted to look at his side profile. It was sharp, the streetlights highlighting his carved features and your heart started running at an unbelievable speed.

He had for once ditched his long coat and had instead worn an all black suit with a black tie. And saints did he look amazing. Kaz Brekker seemed to have no idea at just how unsettled and in love you were.

Just as you were about to enter the grand hall, he stopped you and offered his arm. He was also not wearing his gloves, wanting to stay off suspicion as much as possible.

"You sure? We don't have to do this," you said softly but he insisted and you hesitatingly wrapped your fingers around his elbow.

Kaz didn't as such flinch from your touch, which just proved that he did trust you a lot.

"Ah there you are! Mr and Mrs Helvar am I right?" An elderly man beamed at you two and Kaz instantly transformed into a complete stranger in mere seconds.

"Absolutely!" He smiled widely, his lips stretching in an unfamiliar way and you almost cringed at how fake it looked, but that was only because you knew him.

"Alright alright that's enough," you whispered after the host went away to greet someone else. "Please bring back the Kaz I know".

He rolled his eyes and returned to his cool demeanour. You were lounging near the bar, sipping drinks to pass time while also maintaining a strict checking of the area.

"How much longer do we have to stay?" You asked after about an hour.

"The party's only just began. It'll take time I think," he answered and looked around.

"These heels are killing me," you groaned. "I need my shoes back".

He didn't say anything but his jaw had clenched, as it always did when he felt a little helpless and unsure. He glanced at your feet before returning his gaze back to the ballroom.

"Saints he's here again," you said suddenly and he turned to see the same man walking towards you two once again.

"You've been sitting for quite a time now! Come on then let's get you on your feet. Don't keep such a beautiful lady waiting, Mr Helvar," he grinned cheekily, eyes clearly trailing down your body.

"I'll make sure," Kaz answered rather tightly, stepping in between his line of sight and blocking you from his filthy eyes. He looked at you and held out his hand, you stopped for a tiny second before placing your bare palm into his cold one.

He inhaled sharply but at the same time gently pulled you towards the dancefloor, keeping his eyes on the host who seemed to be watching your every move.

"He's just wrote himself a death wish," your fake husband grumbled in annoyance which soon turned into a forced smile after waving at someone.

"Loosen up now, we have to dance," you said and were surprised immensely when his fingers intertwined with yours and his other palm was slowly making its way to be placed on your waist.

He glanced in your eyes and all you offered was a gorgeous smile. That seemed to be all that was required and the tips of his fingers brushed your waist before halting there.

Your free hand was on his shoulder and you two swayed, your bodies closer than ever before. And you thought to youself, you could definitely get used to this.

Not the elegant gown or the grand party, not at all. But these small but significant moments of intimacy with him.

"This is nice," your small whisper broke the silence as you danced, engaged in your own little rhythm. Too occupied with each other to even pay the slightest attention elsewhere.

"It is," he nodded and this time made eye contact without hesitation. The force was so strong and powerful that you couldn't feel anything except for the rapid thumping of your heart.

Everybody else seemed to fade as you two danced the moment away, completely taken by each other as you swayed. And you thought, it wasn't so bad was it.

And Kaz gave you a look which seemed to answer your question, it was as if he had clearly read your mind.

It's not so bad, his eyes reflected and you couldn't stop the small smile which soon fell off after another question had plagued your mind.

'Then why? Why can't we give this a shot? Give us a shot?'

"It's always up to us you know," you murmured suddenly, not bothering to elaborate because you knew he understood it well enough.

"Nobody has a damn say in what the hell we do with our lives. It's always up to you and me," you repeated and smiled tightly.

While he just stared at your face, taking notice of the way your heart was literally shattering in front of him. And all he wanted was to tell you that he loved you too, had been loving you since ages.

But you already knew that, you weren't oblivious for saint's sake. You knew he had fallen as hard for you as you had for him. His problem was that he refused to accept it, for god knows what reason.

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Ahem ahem... do we need a part 2?

Preferably from Mr Brekker's pov? 👀

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