#mission failed you'll get her next time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

all-purpose-dish-soap · 6 months ago

Text

31 / 1.7k / soap soulmate au, part 8

...

Peering down into the building from the adjacent rooftop, Soap sees you--his soulmate--through his sniper's scope. You. Here. On the wrong goddamn team again.

He mutters a curse into his radio.

You’re standing guard at your client’s back—a man who coasts under the radar as far as his criminal reputation is concerned, but a smuggler effective and dangerous enough to put him on the CIA’s hitlist. He’s hidden from view. Probably been told to stay away from windows for the night. You're obviously working security, outfitted to the nines as you would be on any job, rifle in hands, scanning the foyer for threats. You're unaware of 141’s snipers setting up on the rooftops outside.

Soap’s eyes darken. He doesn’t deal with internal conflict when he’s working. When things get complicated, he uncomplicates them. Right now, there are three thoughts in his head:

One--he misses you.

Two--you blew him off to work for this scum.

And three--he needs to get his feet on the ground right now. You'll be lucky if all you get is an earful once he gets his hands on you.

He switches on his radio. "Got eyes on the target. LT, you in position yet?"

"Affirmative. In position," Ghost says, his voice gravelly and cold over the radio from his position on a neighboring rooftop. "Waiting on the signal."

Soap stares you down through his scope. His leather gloves creak and tighten around the handle of his rifle. It pisses him off how easy it would be to take the shot. If he were anyone else, you would be dead in moments.

On the other hand, he could kill your client--your protectee--here and now. To hell with the mission parameters. It would be easy.

He sighs, flipping on his radio again. "Permission to infiltrate, Captain? Spotted a friendly inside."

Gaz's voice crackles over the radio instead. "Friendly this time, is she?" His tone makes it clear he’s spotted you too.

"Don't be jealous, Garrick."

"Positively green with envy, mate," Gaz replies, dry and sarcastic. "Too bad she’s not friendlier. Be helpful if you could actually get her to talk this time. Not to mention the other stunt you pulled."

Soap smirks and adjusts his scope to keep you in his sights. "Don't know what you're talkin' about."

Gaz scoffs. "Plausible deniability is for paperwork."

"Aye. Maybe I’ll mention in my next report who tipped me off about her bein' our hostage, too."

There's a beat of static. "Got nothing to say about that."

Then Laswell's voice cuts in. "Kyle has a point. The building is locked down tight and it’s gonna be hard to get a clean shot. If she's with our target's security detail, that’s our ticket inside."

"And if she's not willing to help us out?" Price asks.

"Depends on how persuasive Soap is willing to be."

"I might've picked up a technique or two last time,” Soap says.

The radio crackles as Price takes in a deep breath and sighs it out through his nose. Somehow, he makes it sound stern.

"Intel is intel," Ghost says.

“Failing that, bribery’s always a solid bet for a merc,” Gaz adds. “If they don’t shoot you on sight.”

"Right, then," Price says. "Soap, regroup with Ghost. Prepare to infiltrate. Gaz and I will take overwatch. Ghost, keep on comms. We'll find you the main breaker switch. Soap, I need you to keep things quiet, you hear me? Mission objective is priority. Do not, under any circumstances, be seen."

Soap's blood is already pumping hot. He’s never loved overwatch. He’d rather be close to the action--get his feet on the ground. Get his hands on you. "Copy, Captain. Ghost, I'm aimin' for the north corner. Meet me in five."

…

You mill about at your post, feeling twitchy and unsatisfied. This job is, on first glance, the same as any. Your PMC hired you and a few other mercs out to act as bodyguards for a man with more money than morals, if the size and clientele of this gathering is anything to go by.

You shift your weight, scanning the overdressed crowd for threats. You wouldn’t hate it if this party were cancelled early.

"Stand up straight," your teammate snaps. "You're working. Act like it."

You scowl, but say nothing.

"Don't make that face at me," he says, bite in his tone. Horangi. Like he’s so patient. He's on just as short a leash as you, and it's pissing him off just as much. The difference is he has the seniority to take it out on you.

"I don't know how you do this without feeling like a caged animal," you mutter.

His eyes follow a woman in a tight red dress as she passes by. Obviously, he knows what he'd rather be doing.

"A cage with a paycheck," he replies. "Some things you learn to tolerate."

You scan the room again. Your protectee is still here. That's good. You're hoping he takes his sweet time before he goes downstairs to start the so-called afterparty.

You glance at Horangi again. "You know where the cargo is? Downstairs?"

"Last I heard. I got the east wing of this floor," he says. If the idea of that cargo is bothering him, he hides it well. He’s a good merc and he does what he’s told, like it or not.

You were a good merc, too, up until three weeks ago. Worrying about what rich idiots get up to isn't what you should be doing. You're supposed to keep the client happy. It's not your fault he can’t party without doing illegal shit.

You heave a sigh. "I'm going to check on it."

Horangi’s eyes narrow, flicking to you. "No, you’re not. Stay put."

"Fine. I'm going to the bathroom, then."

"Fine," Horangi snaps. "Go to the bathroom, and make sure you come right back. And don’t talk to anybody."

You walk away, rifle in hand, making your way into the back hall. You pass into the dim sconce light and swear you see something through the enormous glass windows as you walk by them. But there’s nothing there.

The lights flicker once. A beat. Just long enough for you to notice before they even out again.

You pause at a flicker of movement near the side door up ahead. You have a split second to wonder why there’d be nobody securing the side door before the lights go out.

When you turn and head back for the foyer, you stop short. Down the hall, where you just came from, looms a familiar shape. The white skull on his mask pops out of the shadows.

You don't make it back to the foyer.

Before you have a chance to react, your body armor is yanked hard from the back. You're pulled backward into an adjacent room and shoved hard against the wall. You expect the bite of steel against your neck or your temple, but it never comes.

“Quiet, now."

You register Soap's familiar accent before your eyes adjust to the dark. "Johnny?"

"That’s right," he says. He's still got that way of speaking that's almost a purr when he's being quiet.

It suddenly feels like a long time since you’ve felt the heat of his body, pinned tight between him and the wall the way you are. He’s coiled tight, all lithe muscle and restrained strength. His eyes glitter with that wild, predatory look. It’s decidedly dangerous and tantalizing.

"I missed you, darlin'. You're gonna make this simple, aye? I know you can," he says.

You swallow the immediate urge to comply. Holy hell, you forgot what that feels like. "You need to stop greeting me like this," you hiss.

"I'd love nothin' more than to greet you in a different way, but you've got to start makin' smarter decisions first." He leans all the way in and presses his nose into the crook between your neck and shoulder, nuzzling you in his full tactical gear.

You muffle a sigh. He makes a quiet, content sound.

"Besides, I kinda like this way of greetin’ ya. You make this little noise."

The radio on his neck echoes to life. You hear a tinny voice come through, saying something about an objective.

His eyes shut tight as he listens, one hand pressed firmly against the wall beside you. He doesn't back away yet. He's been dreaming of this for too long--laying his head on you and letting the sound of your heartbeat drown out everything else. It just can't fucking happen yet.

You feel, rather than hear, his low, annoyed grumble as he replies. "No, I copy. Just keep your bloody heads on."

You concentrate, trying to make out the voices of his teammates. It sounds like Ghost's voice.

Soap groans, his fingers flexing and gloves squeaking against the wallpaper. “I’ll be there in a minute, LT.”

You shift slightly. "Why are you here?"

A muscle twitches in Soap's jaw, and he pulls back so he can look you in the eye. "Should be askin' you the same thing. You’re on guard detail for a bloody criminal."

"It's a complicated situation."

"Then uncomplicate it."

You open your mouth to reply, but Soap's radio crackles back to life. This time, you can make out the words.

"Target located." Ghost's voice.

"Attaboy." Price. "Get him isolated. Third floor, east windows."

“Won’t be that easy,” Ghost replies. “He’s surrounded by civilians. Security’s thick.”

You tense even as Soap begins to relax. You fist your hand in the collar of his tactical vest, trying not to sound frantic. "Do not kill him. Johnny, listen to me."

Soap's expression turns grim, and he looks down at your fingers. Then he reaches up to cover your hand with his. "I know he's your client, but there's a reason we're here. He smuggles weapons. Big weapons, and not to anyone friendly. Just take it easy and let us clean up."

"No, listen," you snap, pulling him a millimeter closer. "He has the cargo here. It's not weapons. It's people."

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / [part 8] / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12

more Soap / masterlist tag

662 notes · View notes

unabashegirl · 3 months ago

Text

entangled 2 | one shot

Y/N, punished by her gang leader for a failed mission, meets Harry, a rival gang member, at a club. Their encounter turns intense and passionate.

Author's note: Hello everyone! I hope you all had a wonderful weekend. Here is the second part of entangled as promised. I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think!

warnings: violence, smut, cursing and more

check out my patreon and get full access to more ONE SHOTS and much more :) thank you beforehand!

if you would like to leave or summit your request for the next one shot. do it here :)

word count: 4K

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

The men winced as Y/N stood in the middle of the room with Victor. She grunted as she was thrown to the floor.

“Get up!” he yelled, watching her clutch her abdomen in pain. They had just returned from the failed mission Victor had assigned them, and he had heard of her defeat. His fury was palpable.

Victor's eyes blazed with fury as he glared down at Y/N. "You think you can just fail me and walk away unscathed?" he snarled, his voice echoing through the room. The other gang members watched in tense silence, understanding the gravity of the situation.

Y/N gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stand despite the pain radiating through her body. She met Victor's gaze with a steely resolve, refusing to show any further weakness.

Victor advanced on her, his expression cold and unrelenting. "You made us look weak, Y/N. You have jeopardized everything we've built." He grabbed her by the collar, lifting her slightly off the ground. "You need to understand the consequences of failure."

With a swift motion, he threw her back to the floor. "Watch closely, all of you!" he shouted to the gathered men and women. "This is what happens when you fail me. When you fail us."

Y/N struggled to her feet once more, the taste of blood in her mouth. She knew Victor was making an example out of her, but she also knew she had to endure it. For her sister, for her people. She wouldn't let this break her.

Victor stepped back, his glare sweeping over the room. "Remember this moment," he warned. "Next time, it could be one of you."

He turned his attention back to Y/N, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. "Prove to me that you still belong here, or you'll wish you hadn't survived tonight."

Y/N nodded, her resolve hardening. She wouldn't let Victor's brutal lesson go unheeded. She would prove herself again, no matter the cost. The fire of determination burned within her, stronger than ever.

“Let’s get you some help,” Xavier, Y/N’s close friend, said as he helped her to her feet. He had feared for her life; it wouldn’t have been the first time Victor had killed someone using these brutal humiliation tactics.

“That’s the last thing I need,” Y/N muttered, wincing in pain. “I need a drink and a smoke.”

Xavier laughed, despite his worry, and guided her to the medic at the warehouse. Her arm was drenched in blood, the wound gaping and worsening with every movement. “First, let’s get you stitched up,” he said firmly. “Then you can have all the drinks and smokes you want.”

As they reached the small, makeshift infirmary in the corner of the warehouse, the medic looked up from his supplies and quickly assessed Y/N's condition. "Get her on the table," he instructed, already reaching for his tools.

Xavier helped Y/N onto the metal table, his grip gentle but firm. "Just hang in there," he said quietly. "You’ll be patched up in no time."

Y/N gritted her teeth against the pain as the medic began to clean the wound. The sting of the antiseptic was sharp, but she welcomed it, letting the physical pain ground her against the emotional turmoil of the night. She glanced at Xavier, who hovered nearby, his concern evident.

"You worry too much," she said, trying to force a smile through the pain.

Xavier shook his head. "Someone has to. Victor’s gone too far this time. He needs to see that you're valuable, not disposable."

The medic worked quickly, his practiced hands stitching the gash with precision. "She’ll be fine," he said gruffly. "But she needs rest. And try to keep her out of fights for a few days, if that’s possible. She has quite a few broken ribs and that eye and eyebrow need desperate help. Another punch could do some serious damage to her optical nerve”.

Y/N snorted at that. “Not likely,” she muttered.

Xavier frowned but didn’t argue. He knew Y/N too well; once her mind was set, there was no changing it. "Just promise me you’ll be more careful," he said.

Y/N nodded, her expression hardening. “I’ll try my best”

The medic finished the last stitch and wrapped her arm in a clean bandage. "All done. Now get out of here and try not to tear any of those stitches.”

Xavier helped her off the table, his arm steadying her. "Come on, let’s get that drink and smoke you wanted."

Y/N wasn’t sure how they ended up at a club, but there they were.

The club was a sensory overload, a stark contrast to the grim reality of the warehouse. Neon lights pulsed in time with the throbbing bass of the music, casting vibrant hues of pink and blue across the packed room. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and perfume, mingling with the sharp tang of alcohol.

The dance floor was a sea of bodies moving in sync with the rhythm, a chaotic yet rhythmic ballet of movement and sound. People shouted to be heard over the pounding beats, their voices blending into a cacophony that filled every corner of the space. The flashing strobe lights cut through the darkness intermittently, illuminating faces twisted in ecstasy and exhaustion.

Y/N and Xavier navigated their way through the crowd, the press of bodies making it difficult to move. The noise was almost overwhelming, but it provided a welcome distraction from the pain and tension of the night. They finally reached the bar, where Xavier signaled for drinks. The bartender, a harried figure behind a cluttered counter, quickly poured their orders.

As Y/N took a deep breath, she allowed herself a moment of respite. The pulsating energy of the club was a stark contrast to the cold, calculating environment of Victor’s warehouse. Here, amid the flashing lights and relentless music, she could temporarily forget the pressures of the gang war.

Xavier handed her a drink, his expression a mix of relief and concern. “You’ve earned this,” he said, raising his glass in a half-hearted toast.

Y/N nodded, taking a long sip of her drink. The alcohol burned pleasantly as it slid down her throat, warming her from the inside. She looked around at the throngs of people, their carefree revelry a reminder of a world that seemed almost foreign to her now.

For a moment, Y/N allowed herself to be swept up in the rhythm of the night, embracing the fleeting sense of normalcy and freedom.

“Come on!” Xavier called to Y/N, snapping her out of her trance as he grabbed her arm. The sudden jolt brought her back to the present, the music and lights of the club crashing over her senses once more. “A few of my friends are upstairs,” he added, nodding toward the VIP area, which was clearly off-limits to most.

Y/N hesitated, her eyes widening in surprise. “Are you kidding? I don’t have that kind of money!” she shouted over the deafening music, dodging dancers who seemed oblivious to the world outside their own revelry.

Xavier laughed, his grip on her arm firm but reassuring. “Am I asking you for money?” he yelled back, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “I’m friends with the security!”

He led her through the throng of people, expertly weaving through the chaotic dance floor. The crowd parted briefly, giving Y/N a glimpse of the VIP area: plush seating, subdued lighting, and an air of exclusivity that seemed worlds away from the frenetic energy below. She could see well-dressed patrons lounging with an air of nonchalance, their laughter and conversation barely audible over the pulsating music.

As they approached the velvet rope, a burly security guard stepped forward, his expression stern. But as soon as he saw Xavier, his face broke into a friendly smile. “Hey, Xavier! Long time no see,” he said, unclipping the rope and waving them through.

Y/N followed Xavier up the narrow staircase to the VIP section, her curiosity piqued. The change in atmosphere was immediate. The pounding bass was still present, but it was muted, allowing for easier conversation. The decor was upscale, with sleek furniture and soft, ambient lighting creating an intimate setting.

Xavier led her to a secluded booth where a few of his friends were already gathered, chatting and laughing. They greeted Xavier warmly, their eyes flickering with curiosity as they took in Y/N.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” Xavier introduced her with a casual wave. “She’s with me.”

One of Xavier’s friends, a stylish woman with striking features, extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Emily.”

Y/N shook Emily’s hand, feeling a bit out of place but grateful for the warmth of the reception. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Make yourself comfortable,” Emily said, gesturing to the plush seats. “What can I get you to drink?”

As Y/N settled into the luxurious booth, she scanned the faces of Xavier's friends. Her breath caught in her throat when she recognized one of them: Harry. He lounged comfortably, his sharp eyes locking onto hers the moment she saw him. The air between them seemed to crackle with unresolved tension.

“Harry,” she breathed, her voice barely audible over the muted music.

Xavier, noticing her shock, chuckled. “Yeah, I probably should have mentioned that. Harry and I go way back. Long before all this gang nonsense.”

Y/N’s mind raced, struggling to reconcile this unexpected revelation. How could Xavier, her close friend and ally, be friends with her sworn enemy? The man who had nearly killed her not long ago?

Harry leaned forward, a smug smile playing on his lips. “Surprised to see me here, Y/N?”

Xavier, sensing the rising tension, quickly intervened. “Look, I know this is weird. But we try to keep the whole gang thing outside of here. We’re just here to unwind”.

Harry’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes remained cold. “A temporary truce, if you will.”

Y/N’s mind was still reeling, but she knew she had to play along for now. She couldn’t afford to cause a scene, not in this setting, and certainly not with Xavier’s connections potentially at risk.

Y/N nodded, a gesture that caught Harry off guard. He had always seen her as a strict rule follower, someone who never defied orders or went against Victor's commands. This unexpected side of her piqued his interest and made him reassess his assumptions.

Emily, sensing the tension, tried to lighten the mood. “What’s your poison?”

Y/N tore her gaze away from Harry, focusing on Emily with a forced smile. “Whiskey, neat.”

As Emily signaled the waiter, Y/N couldn’t help but glance back at Harry. The look in his eyes was a mixture of amusement and challenge. She knew this night had just become far more complicated than she had anticipated.

As the drinks arrived, Xavier leaned in, his voice low. “Just try to relax. We are just people here, trying to forget all the shit we do outside for a few hours.”

The club's music thumped steadily in the background, creating a heavy rhythm that seemed to sync with Y/N's racing heartbeat. Neon lights flashed in sync with the beat, casting alternating shadows and bursts of color across the dance floor. Feeling the need to escape the intensity of her thoughts, Y/N made her way to the center of the crowd and began to dance. Her movements were fluid, confident, and for a moment, she allowed herself to get lost in the music, the energy of the club enveloping her.

From his vantage point, Harry watched her with a mixture of surprise and admiration. He had never seen this side of her before, and it intrigued him. As she moved, completely absorbed in the rhythm, Harry felt an irresistible pull. He made his way through the throng of people, closing the distance between them.

“You’re full of surprises tonight,” Harry murmured as he leaned in closer, his breath brushing against her ear.

Y/N smirked, not giving him the satisfaction of a straightforward answer. “You don’t know half of it,” she replied, her eyes glittering with challenge.

Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Care to enlighten me?”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. “And give you more ammunition? I don’t think so, Styles.”

He leaned in even closer, their faces just inches apart. “I don’t need ammunition, Y/N. I know what makes you tick.”

She felt a shiver run down her spine, a mix of annoyance and undeniable attraction. “Nice try,” she said, her voice steady despite the proximity. “But you’ll have to work harder than that.”

Harry’s lips curved into a sly smile. “I like a challenge.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. “You’ve got your work cut out for you then.”

He chuckled, the sound low and intimate in her ear. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They sipped their drinks, the moment stretching between them, charged with a tension that was as much about attraction as it was about rivalry. Y/N could feel the heat of Harry’s gaze on her, a weight that was hard to ignore.

“So, tell me,” she said, turning the tables. “What’s it like being the big bad boss now? Enjoying the power trip?”

Harry’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes darkened slightly. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Too many people to keep in line, too many responsibilities.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow, leaning closer to him. “Having second thoughts?”

He shook his head. “Not a chance. Just stating the facts.”

Y/N leaned even closer, her breath warm against his ear. “Admit it, Styles. You love the control.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Oh. You have no idea” he smirked. “I bet you enjoy it too”

She laughed, the sound almost lost in the thumping music. “Oh, I don’t need power to make an impression. I can do that just fine without it.”

Harry’s smile widened, a hint of admiration in his gaze. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

Y/N tilted her head, her eyes locked on his. “How are you keeping everyone in line?”

Harry shrugged, his expression nonchalant. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“Care to share any of those tricks?” she teased, her fingers lightly brushing against his arm.

He chuckled, the sound low and intimate. “why would I give away my secrets to the enemy?”

“Maybe because the enemy is more fun than you expected,” she shot back, her eyes dancing with mischief.

Harry’s gaze softened, the intensity between them growing. “Then I’d rather show you than tell you”.

Harry grabbed Y/N’s hand. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through her, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she followed him as he navigated through the dense crowd, leading her toward the back of the club where the bathrooms were located.

The music grew slightly muffled as they moved away from the main floor. Harry glanced over his shoulder at her, his expression unreadable, but his grip on her hand was firm and urgent. They reached the bathroom, and without hesitation, he pushed the door open and dragged her inside.

The fluorescent lights flickered slightly, casting an unflattering glow over the white tiles. The hum of the club was still audible but muted, providing a strange, almost surreal backdrop. Before Y/N could react, he pushed her into one of the stalls and followed, locking the door behind them. The cramped space forced them into close proximity, their breaths mingling in the confined air.

“What the hell, Harry?” she demanded, trying to keep her voice steady despite the rapid beating of her heart.

Without a word, Harry cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, the motion filled with urgency and hunger. His lips moved against hers with a passion that took her breath away, the heat of the moment overwhelming her senses.

For a moment, Y/N was too stunned to respond, but then she gave in, kissing him back with equal fervor. Her hands gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as if she couldn’t get enough. The kiss was a clash of dominance and desire, both of them battling for control even in this moment of vulnerability.

Harry’s hands moved to her waist, pulling her against him as the kiss deepened. The intensity of their connection was undeniable, a force that neither of them could resist. They broke apart only when the need for air became too great.

She pushed Harry back, catching him off guard. He stumbled slightly, and she guided him to sit on the toilet cover. The starkness of the environment made the moment even more intense.

Without giving herself a chance to reconsider, she straddled him, her knees pressing into the hard plastic seat on either side of his thighs. Their faces were inches apart, breaths mingling as the heat between them became almost unbearable.

Harry’s hands found her waist, gripping tightly as he looked up at her, a mixture of surprise and desire in his eyes. “Keep those eyes on me” His voice was low, almost a growl.

She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she leaned in, capturing his lips in a fierce, urgent kiss. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as she moved against him, their bodies fitting together in a way that felt both foreign and inevitable.

Harry responded with equal intensity, his hands roaming over her back, pulling her even closer. The kiss was a clash of tongues and teeth, a battle for dominance that neither was willing to concede. The small confines of the stall faded away, leaving only the raw, unfiltered connection between them.

Y/N pulled away from the kiss, gasping for breath as Harry's hands moved with a newfound urgency. His fingers worked deftly to pull her t-shirt over her head and unclasp her bra. With the dim light from the flickering bathroom bulb now illuminating her body, Harry’s gaze fell upon the injuries she had tried so hard to hide.

Her torso was marred with bruises, deep and angry against her pale skin, and the fresh stitches were starkly visible against the bruised flesh. The sight of her injuries made Harry’s breath catch in his throat, his expression shifting from intense desire to concern and anger.

He gently placed his hands on her sides, his touch light but filled with an undeniable sense of worry.

“Are you in pain?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost a whisper. His eyes searched hers, hoping to see something that would reassure him, but all he found was a mix of defiance and vulnerability.

Y/N shook her head, a smirk playing at her lips. “You talk too much. How about we put that mouth of yours to better use?”

Harry’s eyes flared with renewed intensity, a spark of desire reigniting within him. He was acutely aware that he hadn't caused the severe injuries she bore—he’d wounded her, but never touched her face or broken any ribs. Despite the lingering concerns, he pushed them aside, driven by an urgent need. He had to have her, and nothing else mattered at that moment.

Harry's lips roamed over her jawline and neck, pressing rough, demanding kisses that left no room for gentleness. Y/N took Harry’s hand and guided it firmly to her throat, her eyes locking onto his with a mix of challenge and submission. She arched her neck slightly, giving him full access, her breath coming in shallow, anticipatory gasps.

Harry leaned in, his breath warm against her skin as he whispered, “You look even better with my hands around your neck.” He then shifted, pulling himself free and beginning to touch himself, preparing herself for her.

Harry slipped her underwear to the side, exposing her wet self to him that made his mouth water. He didn’t have the time to fulfill all his fantasies, but he vowed this wouldn’t be their first and last encounter. He was determined to have her again.

Harry slammed her down on him. His hand still gripping her throat whilst his right tightened on her hip, anchoring her in place. Y/N hand grabbed the top of the stall, helping her to lift herself off his cock. Harry grunted into her ear, the sensation was too intense.

“Y’are squeezin’ me. S’tight” Harry groaned, pushing her down on him harder. The stall creaked as the rhythm grew faster and more intense. Harry’s grip on her throat tightened, briefly cutting off her air supply.

“Don’t stop. Even if I beg you to” Y/N moaned as Harry’s hand came off her throat and tangled with her hair. Her cheeks were flushed, and sweat slicked her hair and back, making her even more irresistible in Harry’s eyes.

“Come on. Cum f’me” Harry grunted feeling himself nearing his orgasm He speed up, pounding into her. Y/N shut down her eyes as her back arched and her hips met with his. Her orgasm sent a wave of great pleasure through her. “Just a good girl” he said to her just as she felt him release himself inside of her.

Y/N allowed herself to rest her shaking body on his as they both recovered. As Harry’s hand caressed her back, he reflected on everything that had just transpired. Y/N sat up slowly, her movements deliberate as she began to dress herself again. Harry watched her intently, his gaze fixed on her every motion. The silence between them was heavy, filled with the weight of unspoken words and lingering tension.

Harry’s eyes followed Y/N as she dressed, his expression serious and unyielding. “Tell me again,” he said, his tone firm, “who hurt you?”

His gaze was intense, demanding an answer as he awaited her response.

Y/N paused, her fingers hesitating on the buttons of her shirt. The weight of Harry's question hung heavily in the air, mingling with the aftereffects of their encounter. She met his gaze, seeing the genuine concern in his eyes despite the hardened exterior.

“It’s not of your concern” She said quietly, her voice steady but edge with defiance. “I can handle it”.

Harry’s expression didn’t soften. “You are now my concern”.

She finished fastening her shirt, her movements deliberate, and then looked back at him. “You’re not going to get anything out of me,” she said, her tone resolute. “I deal with my own problems.”

Harry’s jaw clenched, frustration evident in his features. “You think I’m going to let this go?” Harry’s eyes narrowed as he watched Y/N silently prepare to leave. “Is it Victor?” he asked, his tone sharp and demanding.

Y/N’s silence was her answer, and Harry’s frustration flared. “If I can’t do anything else,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “then tell him that the next time he touches you, I’ll cut his fucking arm off.”

Before she could respond, Harry pulled her into a bruising kiss, his lips fierce and possessive. The kiss was filled with a raw intensity, leaving no room for doubt about his feelings. He broke away abruptly, his gaze intense and unwavering. “We do terrible things for the people we love”. he said, his voice a harsh whisper.

With that, he turned on his heel and left, the door slamming behind him as Y/N stood there, her heart pounding and her mind reeling from the confrontation.

Part 1

174 notes · View notes

tojivu · 10 months ago

Note

Megumi and reader after a two week separation because of megumis mission. He admits that he almost died to reader and talks about what happens after.

empty spaces ⋆ megumi fushiguro

an. argh sorry i got carried away LOL

cw. sfw, gn!reader, comfort + fluff

playing. bills by enhypen.

the bed's been useless these past few days.

it's as if the weeks have been drawn out, the universe adding new hours to each of the days so they're longer than they should be — that's what it's been feeling like.

you refuse to sleep in the master bedroom. the pillows next to your head smell too much like your boyfriend; hints of mint shampoo linger and enter your nose as you try to sleep, but ultimately fail to do so.

megumi's been gone for a bit now, and you haven't gotten much news, either. yaga's always talking about classified information and how 'the public shouldn't be concerned with jujutsu affairs' — anxiety pits in your stomach because why couldn't he just tell you whether your boyfriend was dead?

you try to distance yourself from places in the house that remind you of him, incase he's really gone this time; you believe it'll make things easier for you, but it feels as if someone's cutting away at the vessels closest to your heart whenever you imagine it — imagine megumi's body laying lifeless as they transport it back to tokyo.

megumi's never been gone for more than 3 days, especially on a mission. he's usually quick with it, coming home with a cut or two on the arms or face; it'll heal just fine, because he always asks you to take care of his wounds.

you usually sit on his lap as you bandage him up. he winces at the sting of the antiseptic, his fingers gripping harshly at your waist and then you'll tell him to sit still — he never listens, gets all grumbly with furrowed eyebrows — until you clean him up and put on the last bandaid, kiss him over the piece of clear film (and maybe an extra on the lips, if they aren't bleeding too); it's only then he finally shuts up.

you wonder how long you'll have to sit together on the kitchen island this time, if he comes home, that is — you don't think you'll mind the back and arm strain this time. you just want to see him.

"relax," gojo reassures over the phone. "he'll be back soon."

those words mean nothing to you. he's been gone for 14 days now, and he hasn't called — his location hasn't updated, either, you think he must've broken it during the fight or something.

a few sentences are exchanged between satoru and you, before your finger taps the red button at the bottom of your screen; unsatisfied doesn't, couldn't, describe your current thoughts — you were enraged that that was the only piece of information that was provided.

it takes a few hours for you to calm your thoughts. they make your head spin and heart sink, jump around like marbles on clean linoleum and deafen the shows you play on television.

you're watching megumi's favourite drama, which happens to be your favourite drama, too — he was the one who introduced it to you. you're seven episodes in when you hear the front door creak open; so loud that it reminds you to get the hinges replaced.

megumi was supposed to call the guy. it's clear you might have to ring him up yourself, now.

you wonder if it could be nobara. she didn't tag along with yuji or megumi, and you've been ignoring her calls for the past week or so — she must be here to give you a good lecture.

you hear faint groans and bags dropping to the floor, close to the entryway. you aren't greeted by a loud "[name]" as you usually would by nobara. a shiver travels down your spine, hairs on the back of your neck beginning to stand.

you throw the woven blanket off of your body and to the side of the couch — the socks on your feet lubricate your steps and you almost trip with how fast you make your way to the door.

"[name]," his voice calls, rasp voice barely reaching your ears. "i'm home."

megumi's lip is bloody, bandages wrapped over his right eye and around his head — his left arm and leg had some cuts, as well; but those seem to have scabbed already.

you want to call his name, but nothing comes out of your mouth; only a small whimper before your lover is wrapping his arms around your torso. "sorry i was gone for so long."

the pit in your stomach is gone now, almost instantaneously — instead, you begin to sob into megumi's jacket.

megumi feels the guilt but the comfort of having you in his hold overpowers it. if it didn't, he was sure he would be tearing up, too; he never liked seeing you cry.

"megs," you sniffle. "i thought you were—"

"i almost did," megumi cuts you off. he didn't want you to say those words, though he knows being a sorcerer had his fate sealed — but it didn't mean he wanted you to know that. "but i'm alright, see?"

megumi smiles down at you, as if it didn't hurt to move the muscles in his face: they stung like small needles, but he sees the relief wash over your face like a splash of cold water — so he thinks he can put up the act for a bit longer.

"you're all bloody," you mutter. "can i clean that for you?"

you point at his lip and he nods, wincing at your finger that tries to inspect the cut a little closer — it's a familiar feeling: your delicate fingers treating him like glass.

megumi's standing in front of you, and you're sitting on the kitchen island so you can actually reach his face. he lets you do your thing and he's fighting every urge to kiss your lips; he knows the cut will only get worse.

"i don't want you to go missing on me like that," you say. "never again."

"i won't," he assures, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt as you continue cleaning his cuts. "can't die yet."

"ever," you correct. "don't plan on dying, ever."

"i'm not immortal, [name]."

"that's not my problem to fix."

he smiles at your attitude — megumi might really have to figure out a way to become immortal now — freeze the cells that are dying in his body before his bones get too tired to move, stop the pigment in his hair from fading.

"okay." he breathes, hands finding their way around your waist — he taps your legs to open wider to let him fit between. " but you'll have to be immortal too, then."

"why?" you question. "i don't go around killing myself to chase curses."

"when you die, i'll be lonely," megumi explains. "need you to fill the empty space on the bed."

you laugh, trying to think of a witty comeback — you were still upset at your boyfriend for going MIA — but the look he's giving you makes it difficult not to give in.

"is that the only reason you're dating me?"

"maybe," he lies. "i didn't buy such a big bed for nothing. can't let it go to waste."

you gasp, too dramatic to be real — you put the gauze down and give him a stern look, and he lets a giggle slip through his lips before you get to nag him again.

"i'm just kidding, baby," megumi begins to kiss your frown away, pressing his blood stained lips to yours. "i love you for far more than that."

and it's just like that that you melt at megumi fushiguro's words — his red lips and blushed face making your heart skip more beats than humanly possible.

"whatever." you continue to feign anger, yet your arms are still wrapped around his neck. he knows your attitude will last for at least a week.

his lips hurt, and he thinks your hard work has gone to waste with the way he's peppering kisses all over your face.

your hands find his jaw and you lead him into an actual kiss, and you realise he tastes like antiseptic — a little blood in the mix, too — but you can't really complain.

"i'm serious."

you wonder if it's megumi who fills the void you have, or whether it's you who fills his. whether that be in the form of empty beds or an empty house, you know for certain that everything feels off without him — missing like a centre puzzle piece.

"i know," you run your fingers through his rough and matted hair. "i love you too, megs."

"think you'll have to wash my hair for me, too."

you shake your head. "probably has lice."

"we'll have lice together, then." your boyfriend shrugs his shoulders.

"that's so gross, megs," your face sours. "you're such a romantic."

200124 — WHY IS THIS SO LONG DAMN

#jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi fushiguro fluff #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi fluff #megumi x reader fluff #megumi comfort #megumi x reader comfort #jjk comfort #jjk megumi #jjk imagines #jjk imagine #megumi imagines #megumi imagine

590 notes · View notes

purple-obsidian · 6 months ago

Text

miscommunication (18+, dick grayson x titan reader) wc 2.7-3.1k

⭓ this post contains suggestive themes and is not suitable for minors. reader uses she/her pronouns.

"Shit." You curse under your breath when you see your last two messages failed to send. There's just no signal down here. You sigh, and pocket your phone, mind wandering and trying to predict what mission Dick is taking you on tomorrow night. He usually tells you when its time for full stealth, so you decide you'll show up in civilian clothes. He wants to meet earlier in the evening anyways, so you guess it may be something undercover or staking someone out. You let your mind wander for a bit, before returning your focus to work, watching two men in overalls argue in front of the buildings water heater.

The next day, Dick shows up to your apartment right on time. He pulls up in his electric blue sportscar, sticking out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood. You can't help but grin when you see his car through your living room window. Checking yourself out in your bathroom mirror one last time, you make sure your concealed weapons and headpiece aren't visible, before grabbing your phone, keys, and wallet from your backpack. A sudden knock on the door to your apartment causes your eyebrow raises in suspicion, and you slip your shoes on before answering.

"Dick?" You greet the blue-eyed man standing in your doorway, surprised to see a bouquet of gorgeous white roses in his hands. His hair is styled neatly, and he's clean-shaven, too.

"Hey." He flashes you an excited smile taking in your outfit. "You look great." He comments, his brow furrowing ever so slightly as he looks you up and down, taking in your casual attire.

"Thanks… You didn't have to come up here and get me, though. I was on my way down. Am I under-dressed?" You ask him, noting the button-up shirt and freshly pressed pants he's wearing.

"No, not at all." He extends his arm, presenting you with the roses. "These are for you."

"Oh." Your eyes narrow in confusion, glancing between the roses and his expectant grin. "Thanks… I'm assuming I'll need these later?"

Dick clears his throat and tugs at the collar of his shirt. "Well… I mean… need is a strong word," he replies, chuckling awkwardly, "But you can leave them here, if you like. To enjoy when we get back."

Him saying 'when we get back' makes you think there must be some follow up or additional work to do after you complete your objective.

You grin, and take the flowers from him. "So, does that mean we're pulling an all-nighter?" You turn your back to him and walk towards your kitchen to get a vase for the roses. You just miss the bright pink flush that creeps into Dicks cheeks.

"Uhm… I mean, I didn't want to assume anything, here, but if that's where the evening takes us…” He scratches the back of his neck, and follows to join you in your small but tidy kitchen.

He finds you at your sink, filling a tall jar with water. "Yeah, I got nothing going on tomorrow. We can go all night if we need. I've been in the mood for some action, anyways." You explain casually.

His face grows even more red, suddenly feeling very warm in the shirt he chose to wear. "L-let's just get through dinner first."

---------------//---------------

Your eyes scan the fancy restaurant, taking in the scene, noting all the exits, eyeing the people occupying the tables around you. There's a quiet hum of conversation, laughter, and clinking glasses that fills your ears. You don't notice anything out of the ordinary, but you stay diligent, slightly annoyed that Dick hasn't told you why you're here yet.

A couple to the left of us. Man and woman. Mid-thirties, wedding bands, the woman is on her phone, barely paying attention to her date. We have another couple on our right, two men, could be 50's or 60's, hard to tell. Nice watches. Ordered the salmon…

Dick pokes at his pasta with his fork, a small frown on his lips. He's been acting weird since you got here. But he didn't give you any briefing, which makes you think he must be waiting for someone. He said you would enjoy what he had planned, maybe taking down an old enemy of yours? You wrack your brain, trying to remember the last villain who wronged you.

Dick says your name, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Hm? Yeah?" You ask, looking up at him blankly.

"Are you okay? You don't seem to be enjoying yourself."

The waiter passes by your table, refilling your wine glasses with a polite nod.

"Thanks." You tell him with a brief smile. Your attention returns to Dick, who's blue eyes are trained on your own. "I'm fine, Dick. Honestly? I'm just a little confused about what we're trying to accomplish here. What's our objective?"

"The objective," he sighs, and takes a sip of his wine. "The objective is to enjoy ourselves. Spend quality time together."

You barely hear the words he's saying, thinking instead of how he's already on his second glass of wine. He isn't even fake sipping, like you are. This isn't like him. Dick never drinks while he works, unless he's undercover. But even then he will limit himself, never wanting a mission to go bad because he was inebriated.

"Uh, Dick? Shouldn't we cap if off at one?" You ask, nodding to the glass in his hand. "We need you sharp, don't we?"

His eye's widen a little as he sets his glass down. You find it hard to place the emotions playing across his face. He almost looks offended.

"Sharp… right." He sighs, grabbing his napkin and wiping his mouth, shaking his head a little in disbelief. "You know what? You're something else. I really wanted this to be a chance for us to get better acquainted outside of work. I wanted to get to know you better." He waves down the waiter again, signaling that he's ready for the check. "But it's clear to me now why you even agreed to this."

Now it's your turn to go wide-eyed. "Outside of work? Dick, what are you-"

"I honestly thought you were different. I thought we had chemistry. Real chemistry. Maybe I was wrong. Seems like you're only interested in making sure I can perform later, is that it? An all nighter? You can't even humor me, and enjoy a nice meal together first? You've barely said a word, and you haven't even touched your food."

Realization hits you like a ton of bricks.

Dumb. You are so fucking dumb. This isn't work, this is a date. A real date. No wonder he's dressed so nice. He brought you flowers. Fuck, how could I be so dense?!

"I… Dick, when you texted me yesterday, I thought-"

"Save it." He grumbles, rubbing his temples and avoiding eye contact. "Let’s just get this food to go and forget this ever happened."

You sit up straighter in your seat, and reach across the small table for his hand. "Please, let me explain?"

He looks down at your hand, then narrows his eyes at you. "You're going to tell me I'm wrong?" He challenges.

You aren't used to this. His glare sends chills down your spine. You don't often find yourself at the receiving end of Dick Grayson's anger, but its unsettling every time.

"Y-yes. You're wrong." You curse yourself for stuttering, but your heart is racing now, nervous about how badly this miscommunication could affect your relationship. Your eyes plead with his while your hand rummages around for your phone in your jacket pocket. "I think I misunderstood your texts. Just let me pull them up real quick."

The waiter returns too soon, check in hand. Dick waste's no time laying down a few crisp bills before angrily standing up. "No need. You thought this was just a hookup. I get it. Never mind about getting it to-go. Why don't you stay here, enjoy the rest of your meal alone." He throws down another large bill, slamming it down with his fist right in front of you. "You can take a cab home."

"No! Dick, please!" You stand from your chair, cloth napkin falling to the floor, watching him stalk past you towards the exit of the restaurant, anxiety filling your stomach with dread.

► let him leave.

► follow him.

don’t steal my work. don’t repost it somewhere, upload it to another site, use it to train ai, or claim it as your own.

#[purple-obsidian]#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #dc comics #choose your ending #angst #yummy yummy angst #dc fanfic #nightwing #dick grayson #dc texts #text conversations

259 notes · View notes

winterchimez · 4 months ago

Text

Bad Blood | Lee Hyunjae

SUMMARY: you and Hyunjae were the best duo the FBI has ever had, well at least, you used to be. so when you finally meet the man you once loved face-to-face after everything that has happened, you're now left with the question if he is worth putting your faith and trust towards him again.

PAIRING: agent!Hyunjae x f!reader

GENRE: angst, crime

WARNINGS: nc-17, mentions of weaponry (guns, bombs), mentions of blood, violence, action scenes, betrayal (but not really ish; you'll find out as you read it), the tension in this is whew 😮‍💨, minor character deaths, kissing, petnames (sweetheart, princess), cursing

WORD COUNT: 2k

A/N: and so winterchimez makes her writing comeback 🫡 happiest birthday to my sweetest @hcuyk i look up to you a lot and im so so glad that we became close & i hope this is worthy for you my vae vae 🥹 and a big shoutout to @kyaroscuro for hyping me up and beta reading it through i cherish you loads too 💗🫶🏻

You absolutely detested the situation that you were placed in.

It was past midnight when you received an alert about the criminal that you and your team had been tracking down for the past few months and decided to resurface into the light. All agents on duty were given clear instructions to hunt the man down, even if it meant that any of you had to open fire.

But it seemed as if your agents had underestimated what he was capable of, and there was a good reason why he was placed on the FBI’s top most-wanted list—he was a mastermind at setting up traps, specifically in hiding bombs throughout the city.

Unfortunately for you and your team, half of your men had already been wiped out and poorly injured only ten minutes into the chase. However, as one of the elite members of the force, you refused to stop and kept moving forward—chasing the criminal up to the docks.

Loading your gun while you were running to aim and shoot at the criminal was a challenge since you also had to avoid harming any of the pedestrians.

Multiple times, the criminal himself has either taken some innocent people hostage or inflicted minor injuries upon them, which only ticked you off even further. You were mentally cursing and wanting just to land a bullet on the guy anytime now.

It was finally when the criminal himself had moved to a dead-end, and he was taking a few steps back one at a time before he realised that he would fall straight down into the violent waves that would wash one away into the deep ocean.

Aiming your gun right towards his forehead, you finally took in a deep breath before announcing out loud the consequences of his actions if he were to try anything funny further.

“It’s over. Quietly turn yourself in, and your life will be spared.”

Instead of raising his arms, the criminal responded by lowering his head before chuckling—his laughter getting louder and more sinister by the second.

“What’s so funny?” You retorted.

“I’m sorry, princess. It’s time.”

Right there and then, he pulls out a remote and quickly taps on the red glowing button. An explosive goes off under the bridge, causing the waves to rise rapidly. The last thing you see with your eyes is the waves crashing down upon you.

It was too late for you to run as the waters dragged you down into the ocean, and the current quickly shifted you far away towards the sea. As much as you tried to paddle and stay above the waters, you were buried rapidly by the waves, and little did you know you were deep down in the dark, freezing waters.

That was it. You failed the mission, and god knows what will happen to you.

With the last few seconds you had before you knew that you were going to pass out, you could only pray that you would end up somewhere and that your fellow FBI agents would find you and take you back to the headquarters within the next 24 hours.

But it seemed that help arrived much quicker than expected.

As you felt half-unconscious, your body was quickly lifted from the waters, and you were back at the docks again. Whoever was carrying you was quick yet gentle, carrying you bridal style before heading towards a dimly lit area between the cargo boxes and placing you down to catch your breath.

Your saviour wasted no time and quickly performed CPR on you, causing you to spit out a large amount of water that had gotten into your passageways and helped you to steady your breathing again so that you were able to at least talk.

The moment you tried to focus your vision to get a glimpse of which of the FBI agents came to your rescue, your eyes immediately widened, and you quickly took out your other spare gun that you kept safe and intact behind your bulletproof vest and rested it on his temple.

You weren’t expecting to see him again.

“Sweetheart, can’t we just exchange a few words before you decide to pull a gun on me? I even saved your life, you know,” Hyunjae sighed as he slowly lifted your pants to reveal an injury you had neglected while you were on the chase for the criminal.

“As I’ve said, the next time we meet, I will not hesitate to pull the trigger and kill you off, traitor,” you deadpanned.

That’s right, Hyunjae was a traitor—an ex-FBI agent and your former partner-in-crime.

Both of you were inseparable for years. You trained and deployed on countless missions, and for five years, you were grouped as a duo. Hyunjae was the best marksman, and you were his right-hand-woman.

Together, no criminal out there was a match for you two, no matter how dangerous or well-equipped they were. In reality, whoever dared to provoke you two would not have a great outcome the moment that they were captured and brought back to headquarters.

He was a soulmate you never knew existed, and the both of you were always together no matter what. At some point, all of your colleagues were convinced that the two of you were a thing, but neither of you wanted to label anything. You both were fine just the way you were, and as long as the bickering and childish acts went on, you were fine.

Until you ran into Hyunjae killing off one of your superiors in his office a year prior.

This was someone you trusted your whole life with, but at that moment, he was a complete stranger—with splatters of blood all across his face and clothing and those deep, lost eyes as he looked down at the lifeless body on the ground.

As an instinct, you loaded your gun with your trembling hands and moved it up to aim at him, causing the male to direct his attention towards you.

There were no words exchanged for a solid ten seconds, and you could tell that tears were about to stream down your face as your vision blurred.

There was this bittersweet smile plastered across his face, and he only stood there, not moving an inch, before he finally decided to break the news to you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Those were his last words before he leapt out of the broken windows, running deep into the forest before the entire building was alerted and a wide manhunt began to capture your ex-partner.

However, the FBI should’ve known that he was one of the top commanders at that point and would not be easily located.

After a few months had passed, the news came to light when it was revealed that Hyunjae was leading a double life—not only was he an FBI commander, but he was also the CIA’s top informant.

With that, you have distinguished that you two are now on different pages and that things will not end well for either of you the next time you see him again.

So here you were, pointing your gun at his temple, ready to pull the trigger anytime.

Part of you wanted to surrender so badly and just interrogate the hell out of him instead of resorting to violence, but you knew that being an agent meant that there was no room to let any personal feelings get in the way.

But it seemed as if Hyunjae wasn’t bothered by your actions in the slightest, and instead, he took out a clean cloth from one of his pockets to clean the wound before wrapping it well to prevent any infections that may happen.

No. There’s no way you’re going to back down now. “You’re going to get yourself killed if you keep this up; you know that, right?” You pushed the gun forward and added some pressure, but he was not alarmed in the slightest.

“Alright, the cloth isn’t going to last for long, so I highly suggest that you treat the wound as quickly as you possibly can-”

“Stop playing games with me, Hyunjae. You know you’re part of the FBI’s most wanted list now, don’t you?” You warned.

There were a few seconds of silence before the male sighed and wrapped his fingers around your gun, yanking it down forcefully. “You’re so gullible, Y/N.”

“What the actual fuck? You sure have the audacity to say that right to my face after what you’ve done-”

“What I’ve done a year prior-” he raised his voice slightly and finally turned to meet eye-to-eye with you for the first time in a while. “-it’s all part of the plan to patch things up and to eliminate any potential harm to the FBI.”

You scoffed. “Bullshit. You’re with the CIA; why bother about the FBI when you killed Chief-”

Before you can finish your sentence, Hyunjae uses one of his arms to push you against one of the cargo boxes, causing you to yelp silently with the sudden force. This time, he rests his forehead against yours, trying his best to tell you something while lowering his tone.

“Y/N. You can hate me all you want, but I’m not doing all of this for the CIA. No matter what, my heart is always with the FBI, but most importantly, with yours.”

Wait a minute.

Did he mean what he said during that last sentence?

That can’t be true, and you were certain that you were probably hallucinating since you had lost quite a bit of blood and you were literally drowning ten minutes ago in the waters. It has got to be a side effect of all of those.

But Hyunjae wasn’t done.

“I’ll tell you right now that you’re in great danger, and you have attracted quite the attention from multiple organisations out there. But I’m not going to let them lay a finger on you, and it will always be a top priority to keep you safe first and foremost.”

“Hyunjae. I’m not in the mood to be playing games with you-”

“And neither am I, Y/N.” Hyunjae slightly pushes you back against the box, this time moving in close until both of your lips are mere inches apart. “You’re mine, and forever will be.”

In the blink of an eye, he presses his lips onto yours, devouring them as if there was no tomorrow. It was the first time you exchanged kisses, and you never realised how soft his lips were, and he knew how to cause butterflies in your stomach. He slowly moved his hands up to your neck and held it firmly, allowing him to deepen the kiss even further.

As much as he wanted for it to last as long as he could, he pulled away and kissed your temple softly before whispering into your ear.

“You wanted the truth, and I have given it to you. It’s up to you to do whatever you want with the information. But know that I’ll always be lurking in the shadows, keeping you safe from any harm before we can finally meet face-to-face again,” Hyunjae whispered.

When he finally let go of his grip on you, a soft, sincere smile was plastered across his face before he disappeared into the darkness of the night, leaving you confused as hell as you laid your head back on the box.

As the sound of the choppers began rumbling in the sky, indicating that the FBI had sent back up to rescue any of the surviving agents, you knew it was time to get up and head straight back to report at the headquarters.

Before you did any of that, you decided to turn your direction right towards where Hyunjae had run off one last time before a single teardrop fell straight down onto the ground.

“You have never once left my mind, Hyunjae. And now, you’re just making me go insane with whatever you have up against your sleeves.”

A/N: i haven't written in months so this might not be the best but i tried 🥹

masterlist

taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @k-films @flwoie @gluion @kyusqult @tinkerbell460 @sulkygyu @jaerisdiction @lngwayup @djidfk @daisyvisions (join my permanent taglist here!)

130 notes · View notes

countdown-if · 1 year ago

Text

"Countdown" is a slice-of-life inspired by "Gilmore Girls," and is rated 18+.

Three months ago, life took a sharp turn. Your mother found herself entangled in a situation so bad, she couldn't dig her way out of it, like usual. This time, the hole was way too deep. She needed help, and the only people capable of aiding her were the same ones she had vowed never to allow back into her life, let alone introduce to you and your younger sibling.

Who were they?

Your grandparents—a powerful and well-established duo.

In short, they did manage to help your mother back on her feet, but not without strings attached—never without strings.

Now, you're facing a senior year in a private school, fully funded by none other than grandma and grandpa, dearest. The only task at hand: do what your mother couldn't—graduate.

Form relationships, pursue your passions, burn bridges etc.,—the decision is entirely up to you.

🍁 Customise your MC (gender, style, personality etc...).

🍁 Choose 1 out of 3 part-time jobs (p.s. 'if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen' and pursue another in your new school!)

🍁 Choose your path. Are you aiming for a top Uni like Harvard next? Or maybe you'll step foot into the world of music? Rumour has it 'Crimson Haze' is looking for a new addition. What will it be?

🍁 Romance 1 out of 6 love interests.

🍁 A lot more in store!

Casey Decker (m/f) 🍁 [profile page]

Your friendship goes way back to the nappy days. With both of your mothers on the younger end of the spectrum, it’s no surprise you grew to be close too—'best friends' type of close.

Casey is a ray of sunshine, full of life, and quite possibly the jelly to your peanut butter. They’re sweet like that—they can be, at least. But best friends should be just that: best friends. Besides, as of recently, Casey is taken.

Appearance: Medium-length, straight, golden blond hair covers the nape of their neck. They have slightly tanned skin, a sprinkle of freckles across their nose and cheeks, and grey eyes.

Lake Aydin (m/f) 🍁 [profile page]

Lake has just started working at the grocery store nearby your house. High-school dropout, you assume. They don’t talk much…to you. Kind of a mystery, that one. Their social media confirms just that—there's not much to go by.

Also, your first meeting wasn't the greatest or smoothest. But one thing's for sure: you'll be around there a lot, so you might as well get talking in the meantime, right?

Appearance: Dark brown eyes, pale skin, and short, straight black hair for m!L. For f!L, it's medium-length black hair. They wear glasses whenever they remember.

Harry/Hallie Johnson (m/f) 🍁 [profile page]

H doesn't actually go to your school, but events are often organised as a collaboration between a handful of private schools, both of yours included. So yeah, you might see them around.

H is good at all of that—the networking, the galas, the fundraising, and public speaking part. They know what they want, and they have a resume to show for it. H is CC—charismatic and confident. They're who parents wish their kids would bring home, so needless to say, they've got your grandparents' stamp of approval.

Appearance: Deep brown skin, short tightly curled black hair for m!H, and a little longer than shoulder-length, tightly curled black hair for f!H. They have light brown eyes.

Santiago/Samara Garcia (m/f) 🍁 [profile page]

S is an academic with tunnel vision for success. They're consistently at the top of the class, leading the ranks, and on a mission to become valedictorian.

What sets S apart from the majority, you might ask? They're one of the only two people who got into the private school solely based on merit. No mommy's or daddy's money, none of that. It's all about brains and drive.

And what about you? Are you a high achiever? If yes, expect a somewhat healthy rivalry. Heads up, though—S doesn't fail. If no, they'll look down on you, and they won't make any effort to hide that. It's a double-edged sword.

Appearance: They have wavy brunette, borderline black, nearly shoulder-length hair, tan skin, and hazel eyes. They also have three beauty marks: one above their left eyebrow, one right below the left corner of their lip, and one on the tip of their nose.

Riven/Raven Rodrigo (m/f) 🍁 [profile page]

R is destined to be a superstar. Three years ago, R and 3 of their friends formed a band called 'Crimson Haze,' and it seems like all their hard work has finally paid off this summer. They've had a couple of gigs overseas, and they've done really well. They're on their way to major stardom, but first, they need to figure out a few things. Something's missing—perhaps a fifth and final member?

R is a passionate musician, a reckless friend, and a nonchalant lover. Music is their life. However, their love life is...unsteady. They don't do distractions, aka relationships; only fun.

Appearance: They have dyed jet-black hair, short messy waves for m!R, and long messy waves for f!R. They also have amber eyes and olive skin.

Nolan/Naya Brown (m/f) 🍁 [profile page]

N is the star athlete and the school's pride and joy. They have a lot of eyes on them, watching and expecting big things to come. On the court, they're a beast, but in class? Not so much. Their grades are below average, and if they want to keep competing for that full-ride scholarship, they need to bring their grades all the way up.

N is a typical cool and popular kid—playful, funny, and well-liked around the school. Whether they remember it or not, you share a history. You used to know N. FYI, they've been in a committed relationship for the past two and a half years.

Appearance: They have light brown skin in the winter and medium-brown skin in the summer. Their hair is dark brown, with short and loosely curled hair for m!N, and long and loosely curled dark hair for f!N.

DEMO TBA | FORUM

#countdown if #slice of life #interactive fiction #interactive novel #hosted games #choice of games #choicescript #cog #wip

517 notes · View notes

timmyrx2000 · 2 days ago

Text

Just an Ordinary Kid Like Us

Pacifica having a blast as she plays Baseball. Art by el_moribundo__

Part of my Gravity Falls Baseball AU continuity

Pacifica Northwest? Baseball? Now that's an unlikely pair! But believe it or not, it works! Everyone knows The Northwests love their family treasures, but this Northwest has taken an interest to a different type of diamond... the Baseball diamond!

Ever since Pacifica was "reluctantly" dragged to the town baseball diamond by Mabel and Dipper, she's been getting more and more immersed in the game. Sure, her grand father, Auldman Northwest, may have built the diamond, (heck it's even named after him, Auldman Northwest Memorial Baseball Field or just Auldman Field), but her parents have always made it a point of reminding her that this was just "a bone we throw to those filthy commoners so they don't forget who's the family that brings joy to their miserable existence". Now, she's here, decked out in her baseball gear, with her coach/adopted big sister, Wendy, and her new (real) best friends, Dipper and Mabel.

Baseball's become an outlet for Pacifica. For all her life, she's lived under the heavy and strict expectations of her family and their family name. "You're a Northwest", those words forever haunt her in whatever she did. Everything she did, she either had to be the best, had to be an achiever, or had to remember her family's reputation that they only engage in "the activities of high society"

But here? On THIS diamond, with THIS crowd... that all changes. When she slips in her uniform, steps into her cleats, straps on her batting gloves, plops on her baseball cap, and slides on her batting helmet, she's Pacifica... a kid like everyone else. Baseball's taught Pacifica that its ok to be a kid and its ok to have fun. No one's expecting her to be an MVP and no one's expecting her to carry the entire team on her shoulders.

It's gonna take some time for her to get used to being comfortable just being herself, but she's getting there. Wendy, Mabel, and Dipper have all made it their mission to get Pacifica to just enjoy and be who she really is. And incidentally, who she is...is actually one heck of a great Baseball Player. Pacifica always gives it her all and it shows. She's good, especially for a rookie, but obviously has a long way to go, especially in learning not to take herself too seriously and just living in the moment. But that's what everyone is here for. She may fail, but Wendy teaches her that its fine and just to laugh and learn from it and bounce back stronger. She may not have all the answers, but thats ok, Dipper's here to help her untangle whatever questions she has about what to do next. She may not always be the best, but Mabel's here to pick her up and give her the light hearted boost she needs.

There's no denying it, Baseball has given Pacifica the experience she's always wanted: to be a kid and to just enjoy being a kid. Slowly she learns that it doesn't matter if she's not the best, all that matters is that she knows she has a team who will ride and die for her. She has a big sister in Wendy who she can always lean on when things get rough. She has a best friend in Mabel who can will always stick by her through thick and thin. She has a dorky adopted sibling in Dipper who will always push her to go beyond what she thinks she can do while still grounding her. Pacifica's got a long way to go, but she's more than happy to see it through. No matter what she's got to learn, she's all in, even if it means still having to get used to the sweat and stink that comes with Baseball... Yeah that'll take some time, but like Wendy says "We wear our sweat and stink with pride around her. Embrace the stench of victory!" Don't worry Pacifica, you'll get used to it...eventually

#baseball #gravity falls #gf #gravity falls fanfiction #sports #fanfiction #athlete #baseball player #baseball uniform #gf fanfiction #pacifica northwest #pacifica #cute #baseball girl #baseball glove #athletic

43 notes · View notes

rebeliz7 · 6 months ago

Text

THE SHADOW

Chapter 1: The Shadow

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader

Request: Where R is part of the Avengers and her and Carol have been friends with benefits for a while now but nobody knows. Carol keeps telling R that she wants something more serious and R keeps turning the idea down. One day R is kind of flirty with someone else and Carol snaps. Angsty discussion about their feelings + happy ending?

Word Count: 6026

…

Closing your eyes, you can’t help but smile as your legs tingle and the last wave of your latest orgasm washes over you blissfully.

You take a moment to try to bring your breathing back to normal, smiling as warmth spreads in your chest. Is this happiness?

God! That was so good, and you can’t stop smiling.

You never knew sex could be like this, feel this way, but here you are.

You really can’t stop smiling.

“That was amazing.” You chuckle with a dry throat, and the action makes you blush.

God, you were loud! Not that it matters, you’ve missed Carol so much in the last couple of days, and this was a perfect ‘welcome home’ surprise.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Carol sits up in her bed abruptly, and the tone of her voice has you opening your eyes with a sharp start, because contrary to you, she doesn’t sound happy at all.

The icy tone and the sight of her back turned to you make you take a second look, and a heavy weight settles in the pit of your stomach instantly.

You know what’s coming next, and you really should know better by now.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You still ask her, as you sit up too and a cold breeze waves inside the room from the open windows.

You press yourself against her back, wanting to soak up some of her natural warmth but she feels tense, her body’s rigid and you’re starting to regret tonight with intensity.

You feel cold now too, and it’s not solely because of that opened window and the chilly August air.

Shivering involuntarily, you wrap your arms around her waist from behind a little tighter and even press your lips on her shoulder blade in a soft kiss. However, the tension on her body’s expanding and she doesn’t react to your touch the way you want her to.

“Why don’t you want to date me?” She asks you, hurt lacing the tone of her voice. Her question leaves you breathless, and frozen at the same time.

The world seems to have stopped in the wake of your silence though.

You want to give her what she wants, you do.

Realizing you’re still hugging her, you pull your arms back and away from her, leaving her bed in a hurry.

You didn’t want to get into this tonight. Not tonight.

She just came back from a mission that took her away from the Compound for almost ten days, and you were missing her. You wanted to catch up with her, you wanted to be alone with her for a little while, you wanted to make love to her and kiss her for every minute that she was away.

But this? You didn’t want to do this tonight.

Besides, you have a party to attend and you haven’t even begun to get ready.

You'll be late already.

You can feel her expectant eyes on you as you head to the in-suite, and you hate it. You hate that she keeps on hoping, that she keeps on waiting, that she keeps on denying to accept the reality in which you both live in.

…

When you emerge from her bathroom she’s waiting for you.

She’s always waiting for you.

She’s sitting on the edge of her bed and watching you intently, as if you hold her heart in the palm of your hands. She hasn’t moved an inch.

“We’ve talked about this.” You tell her as you pick up your discarded clothes from the floor in a hurry, but when you look back up she’s still watching you. “I like what we have here. Don’t you like what we have here?”

“Of course I like it.” She hurries to say, trying and failing to smile.

You know she’ll keep doing this with you for however long you ask, and you know she’s terrified of that. You are too.

Her eyes pull you in though, her beauty catching you by surprise again. You want her too much and she doesn’t know it, but you’d do anything for her---anything but what she’s asking right now.

Looking away, you’re quick to put on your clothes, and when she finally stands up to walk closer to you, you feel like you should run out.

You should run out, you’re good at that.

However, she’s still wearing the strap you used and the toy between her legs distracts your planned escape, and you walk towards her out of instinct too.

You undo the harness for her and you let it fall to the ground, all the while she just looks at you with downcast eyes that break you more than she’ll ever truly know.

Your chest aches, and swallowing becomes painful.

God! You really didn’t want to get into this tonight.

Still, you try to bring things back to normal because you want to keep seeing her, you want to be able to still kiss her in the mornings when no one is looking. God! You want to make her laugh when that door is closed, just so you can kiss the smile off her face.

You really don’t want to lose her. Not her.

“Then what’s the problem?” You ask her gently, because she’s expecting you to keep this conversation going, even if you refuse to look into her eyes and you both know how it’s going to end.

You’re running out of excuses for her, and you really need her to move on from the topic because you can’t give her anything more than what you already have. You don’t know how to.

“I want to date you.” She enunciates, and you do look up then.

She tells you this as if you hadn’t heard her before, as if she's speaking a foreign language and she wants to make sure that you understand what she’s saying.

You hate her condescending tone, and you’re tempted to roll your eyes but you refrain from it. As always, she’s not seeing the point.

You’re not the one refusing to listen here. She is.

You really don’t know how to move on from this. You don’t know how to convince her that this is for the best.

You’re at a loss, because you don’t want to lose her.

“I like you, and I want to be able to kiss you and hold your hand in front of our friends. What’s wrong with liking what we have in front of others?” She asks and her nakedness is really distracting, but not enough to not make you see that she’s pushing this.

“Carol, please. Don’t do this.” You place your hands on her chest before pressing yourself closer to her. You need her to understand you without having to reveal things that make you cringe just thinking about them.

“I obviously like you too but I also like what we have here, just the two of us.”

“Why can’t we have this with the rest of the team knowing?” She practically pleads, and you step back from her space. She’s pushing and she knows it, and you don’t want to lose her.

“Why can’t this be enough for you?” You want to know and she grabs a hold of your arms as an impulse, her eyes turn hard as she pulls you closer but you react too, and you push her away with a not so gentle push of your own.

“Because I feel like a dirty little secret!” Her voice seems to echo in the otherwise quiet bedroom, and your heart practically breaks at seeing so much hurt reflected in her eyes.

But she’s frowning, her jawline taunts so much that she’s holding back and you can’t take it.

You know what you have to do. You know that you need to put a stop to this, before it gets too messy. You love her too much, and now you need to do what’s best for everyone.

“Look Carol.” You take a deep breath as your heart shatters inside of your chest, and she takes a step back from you instinctively. Your coming rejection seems to land on her even before you’ve said anything and you hate it, you hate all of it.

“Don’t do this.” She begs with such a small voice, and you have to look away before you take it back.

A part of you always knew this would come to an end, one way or another. She wants more from you, she’s wanted more from you for a while and you… you just didn’t have the courage to put an end to it when you had to.

Granted, you don’t want this to be over and that’s the truth.

You love her and you want her, you want to be with her but the moment the rest of the team knows about this, they won’t accept it because you lost their trust a while back and you’re not anywhere near getting it back.

You can feel your heart breaking, but you swallow down all that hurt and meet her eyes again.

This is the right thing to do.

“You’re my best friend in this place.” You tell her, hoping that she understands, and maybe - just maybe you won’t lose her completely after this. “You’re the only person that I can talk to right now. You know it, and you know that I never meant to make you feel like this. This was supposed to be fun for both of us.”

“Don’t do this.” She begs one more time, but you have to get it out.

You know she can smell your bullshit from a mile away, but you just can’t give her something that you don’t know how to give right.

You shouldn’t have let it come this far anyway. You shouldn’t have.

“If this isn’t enough for you then we should stop seeing each other.” You tell her and she takes a deep breath, her face hardening as she looks at you. “If you want more than this, you’re free to get it somewhere else. I won’t stand in your way. I’m your friend, and your happiness is important to me.”

When you’re done speaking her face contorts in pure rage, and you feel like a dagger has stuck itself in your chest. You need her to not need you like this. You’re not - you’re not right.

“I don’t need you to tell me what I can, or cannot do.” She growls in your face, making you take a step back with the sheer ferocity in her voice.

You can’t date her, you can’t tell her that you’re ready for a relationship because you’re not, and Carol is too damn important for you to fuck it up like you did in the past.

You thought you could have this, and it’d be enough.

You’re so stupid.

“Carol.” With a burst of confidence you push yourself back into her space, and force her to look at you with your hands on her face.

Maybe you can still salvage some of this, maybe she just needs to know that you won’t go anywhere if you two can keep this the way it’s been so far.

“Why are you so afraid of them knowing?” She asks you gently and you almost kiss her, if only to keep her quiet.

Her hands are so warm on your waist, and the press of her fingers feels so real on your skin. She’s solid and safe, and you want nothing more than to be able to sink into everything that she is… but you can’t.

“I’m not afraid.” You lie and she looks even sadder when she realizes that.

You can’t tell her what happened. She won’t understand - no one else did.

Your last and only real relationship showed you the mess you really are when it comes down to romantic relationships, and you don’t want Carol tangled up in all that.

Steve and Natasha know, they know that you can’t handle something real. They know because they were left to deal with the consequences of your mistakes not that long ago.

Carol wasn’t on earth yet, but if she had been, you know for sure that neither one of you would be in this room today.

The team knows what happened, because it was your actions that led the Avengers to lose a valuable member of the team. They know because they were angry and because they care about you, even when you don’t deserve it.

The look in Carol’s eyes is devastating now, and you can see all the pain that you’ve just inflected in her by lying to her face.

“You know what?” She pushes you away, but not unkindly, which is a hundred times worse.

A part of you wants to hold on to her, beg and to selfishly keep her, but that wouldn’t be right.

She’s always known when you’re lying anyway. She’s always had a sixth sense when it came to you, and reading you, even when you didn’t say anything at all.

She’s angry now, her feelings overshadowing everything that she represents for you.

“You’re right.” She tells you with a broken voice, and you swallow with difficulty. “ I do want more, and I am free to get it wherever I want.”

Her words cut through the fogginess of your brain, like a well sharpened knife would do against bread. She’s aiming to hurt you in response to her own pain, and it works.

Looking into her eyes, you realize that there’s nothing left to save here. She was never just a friend, but she’ll never be more than that either.

…

You stand in front of your mirror for long minutes. The idea of changing your outfit crosses your mind a couple of times, but you can’t keep wanting to impress a group of people that are already disappointed in you. They won’t think any different of you, even if you showed up wearing a golden gown tonight.

You don’t plan to stay long anyway.

You arrive late, and the party is already in full swing. There are at least two hundred people crowding the penthouse, and you didn’t even know that Steve knew this many faces but here you are.

You were supposed to be present for the welcoming toast, but you’re glad that’s out of the way now. You’re only here to make a quick appearance, and then you’ll leave.

You don’t want to be celebrating anything when you’ve just lost the one good thing that’s happened to you in, well, you don’t know how long.

“Glad you made it.” Steve says, when he finds you by the bar. He still kisses your cheek the same way he used to, the only difference now is that he can’t look you in the eye anymore.

It’s more like a habit that he can’t break out of at this point, and you both carry on with it.

You should have gone and found him earlier, wish him a happy birthday and maybe offer him a present. You did none of those things.

“Happy birthday, old man.” You smile at him hesitantly, and he gives you a small amused smile in return. He pats your arm awkwardly, clearly wanting to say more, but he just leaves.

He hasn’t been able to be around you for longer than a minute since you returned, forget actually talking to you. You don’t blame him though.

Steve and Natasha were the closest thing that you had to a family, or what you believe could have been family. He was your big brother in a sense, it certainly felt like that’s the role he adopted towards you when you first came in.

Beth was a new addition to the team, younger than you and fun. God, she was fun.

She had the ability to control the weather, and she fell for you the moment you kissed her on the rooftop as a joke.

You’d never been involved with someone before, but you tried for her, you tried so hard to be what she wanted. Even when you had no idea of what you were doing.

She fell for you immensely and irrevocably, and you saw it happening with fear gripping every inch of you. You couldn’t do anything to stop her feelings from growing the way they did.

She was the strongest among you, and you loved her too, just not the way she wanted to be loved by you.

You still had fun together, and she was the kind of person that could always put a smile on anyone’s face without even trying, including yours. Especially yours.

You tried and you tried, but circumstances played a part in your fall out. You couldn’t be what she wanted and she couldn't depend on you because you’re not a dependable person. At least not in that way.

Your fights were always explosive and destructive. When she screamed, you screamed louder and when she said something particularly hurtful you’d just stop talking to her altogether. And you didn’t have to worry, because she always came back to you with an apology in her lips and tears in her eyes, and it’ll be alright.

When the roles were reversed and you spitted hateful things at her just to get her to leave you alone, you still didn’t worry because you never apologized. You didn't know how to.

All you did was climb on her bed in the middle of the night, and she’d let you hug her tight, but you never apologized.

When she told you that the X-Men had tried to recruit her, she asked you to give her a reason to stay with the Avengers and you couldn’t. You knew what she wanted to hear and you loved her, but you didn’t want her to stay because of you and you weren’t ready to sacrifice everything you’ve found for her.

It was downhill from that moment on. You could see that she was fading away right before your eyes, and you wanted her to be happy but you didn’t want her happiness to become your responsibility, you weren’t ready for that.

Eventually she grew tired of being - whatever she was for you.

Everyone saw it too. Steve asked you to fix things, and Natasha told you to think about what you were doing.

But you didn’t know what you were doing, you weren’t ready for that kind of relationship, you weren’t ready to be with someone no matter how badly you wanted it.

By the time you finally left, Beth was already a shell of the person you once knew. When you came back she was gone, and Steve was disappointed in you for running and you still couldn’t master an apology, not even for him.

…

“There you are.” Natasha’s voice scares away the cloud of regrets hanging over your head, and you look to your left to see her standing next to you. She still smiles at you the same way she used to, and you still feel undeserving of her love.

“How was the toast?” You ask her, and she hums as she steals your beer and takes a generous sip.

“It was fine.” She shrugs as she gives you your beer back. When you meet her eyes you’re instantly thrown because she’s giving you that look, the one that means that she knows everything you’re trying to conceal. It makes your skin prickle. “I thought you weren’t gonna show up.”

“I almost didn’t.” You admit, and she grins at you.

Natasha is the most important person in your life. She’s always loved you, no doubt about that, but she’s disappointed too, even if she’s trying her hardest to move on. You became her little sister, and she became protective of you.

The team would have done anything for you, they loved you and you’re simply not deserving of their love.

“Something happened earlier?” She asks but you’re under no pretense here, you know that she knows exactly what you and Carol have been up to. The only reason why she hasn’t said or done anything is because once upon a time she loved you fiercely enough to put herself on the line for you.

Maybe she still does, you wouldn’t know anymore.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You retort and she pins you down with a hard glare.

She struggles with what to say for a moment but then you see her deflating, and she just ends up taking another sip from your beer before she squeezes your shoulder lightly.

“Just be careful, okay?” She says, and you nod rigidly.

You try to mingle, you speak with a few people but you can only do it for a couple of minutes before you’re walking out to the spacious balcony with the first bottle of liquor you could find behind the bar.

On your way there you spot Carol laughing at something that Steve is saying, and your heart aches at the sight of them. She’s your best friend, she’s come to know you better than anyone else has and yet the sight of her laughing with Steve makes you irrationally jealous.

That’s your big brother, the one guy that now can’t stand you, but Carol seems to fit right into the team. She looks at home and the longer you stare, the more you realize that you might not belong here after all.

You down drink after drink but no matter how fast you do it, you can’t numb any of the pain threatening to eat you alive from the inside out.

Out of all the worst things that Hydra did to you, this must be on the top three. Not being able to get drunk, when you just want a quick escape without actually running away.

Maybe you’re exaggerating anyway, Hydra did unspeakable things to you, to turn you into what they wanted you to be. A perfect weapon.

Refusing to let your brain take you down that particular path of horrible memories, you focus back on your present.

You don’t know why you keep doing this, there is nothing after you anymore, you’re free of Hydra but you know that deep down you haven’t assimilated it. The thought of being whoever you want to be is still a foreign concept to you.

You know that your life's your own now, the Avengers saved you all those years ago. You are no longer a weapon of Hydra, they have no claim over you anymore, there is no one keeping you on any leashes now.

You’re free. Only you don’t know what that word actually means.

They still made you who you are, didn’t they? You still are that subject that survived their crazy experiments. You’re still a weapon, even if you’re using your abilities to do good now, even if you call yourself an Avenger.

You’re still The Shadow, and you’re still that destruction weapon that they created you to be. You destroyed your relationship with Steve, with Natasha and now with Carol too.

You know that the only reason why you’re still here is because of the things that you can do but the Avengers don’t trust you, not anymore because that’s what you do, that’s what you are. You are destruction, and that’s all there is in your path.

…

“You look like you could use some company.” A woman says, and you’re already smiling even before you see her face.

“Jessica Jones.” You smile, and she rolls her eyes when you go for a hug. She doesn’t return it but she’s smiling when you pull back.

“Why are you so moppy? I thought this was a party.”

“The party is in there. There’s only booz out here. You gotta choose.”

She eyes the open door of the balcony but her smile grows bigger when she looks back at you. “I choose whiskey.” She shrugs easily and you click your tongue.

“My type of girl.” You serve her a drink and she downs it just like you would, without a flinch and no hesitation.

In the distance, fireworks are starting to go off, everyone seems to be celebrating this fourth and you two watch the lights of different colors alight the skies in silence, for a little while.

“Things are still awkward here, I take it.” She says conversationally and you huff, subtlety isn’t really her thing, nor yours.

She only knows a lot about what happened because you crashed on her couch for a week when you ran away from here, and you were still trying to get back on your feet.

“I haven’t officially apologized, so yeah.” You have another drink, and serve her another one too as she nods.

You two are the only ones wearing leather and boots, if you were to walk inside the party again together you’d stand out like sore thumbs.

“You’re a shitty friend.” She tells you sincerely and you chuckle dryly. That’s more accurate than anything you’ve heard today. “But a good lay, I’d give you that.”

“Are you fishing for a repeat performance, Jones?” You tease her and she gets in your space, never one to shy away from flirting.

“You’re the one that obviously needs to take her mind off whatever it is that has you like this.” Her hair flips with the wind, and you place your free hand on her cheek.

You slept together twice, years ago and nothing ever got complicated about it. She gets you in a way that no one else has ever been able to, and you miss that.

“Oh, honey. I’ve missed you too.” You tease her and she laughs, but she still presses herself against you.

“You wish.” She laughs but her voice is just a tad lower than usual as she leans forward and you run your thumb on her cheek.

You maintain eye contact as she continues to lean closer to you, but even with all that bravado she’s the one to break first and you both burst out laughing.

You’ve missed her and her dark, almost always edging on inappropriate humor. This is going nowhere and you both know it, but you still test the waters every time you see each other. For good times sake and nothing more.

“What the hell!” The voice is booming, it screams at every instinct in your body to go on the defensive, but you recognize it too.

Carol’s standing a few feet away from you, angry and eyes blazing fire, and not caring that she’s making a scene.

“What?” You ask, struggling to catch up.

Your brain’s telling you that what she saw didn’t look good, you two never made anything official, but you still knew how she feels.

She’s looking at you accusatorily, as if she knows exactly what she saw and what it means, and you already hate it. Whatever you say from this point on will only serve to feed into her anger, and you really didn’t want to do this tonight. Any of this.

“Calm down, glowy fists.” Jessica’s voice pulls you out of whatever haze you fell under, and you notice Carol’s fists enveloped by her powers.

She’s one second away from blasting Jessica into a new reality when you step forward, shielding her with your body and getting into Carol’s line of sight again.

“What are you doing?” You ask her, even though you know very well what she’s doing.

“So it’s me then?” She asks you, her powers dissolving into nothing and her voice breaking at the end of that question.

A part of you wants to explain yourself, tell her that Jessica is a friend and nothing more, but Carol’s not your girlfriend.

One thing’s clear though, you two can’t be friends. There’s no going back, you can’t salvage anything here. Carol’s no longer your closest friend, that ended when you two got in bed months ago.

“This isn’t what it looks like, Carol.” You tell her, hoping that she’d follow your lead and remain calm, you don’t need to make a scene.

A few heads are already turning, more preoccupied with your conversation than Steve’s birthday party now.

“I’m not stupid!” Carol growls in your face, still angry and loud. God! So loud.

You’re trying your hardest but when you notice Steve standing to the side of the balcony, his disappointment so obvious for you to see, something within you snaps.

The look makes you feel exposed and vulnerable, and none of those emotions have ever aligned well with you.

Your anger is quick to rise to the surface, and you take it out on the only person that doesn’t really deserve it.

“Only you are.” You tell Carol, soft and low but not any less biting. She flinches back, visibly so but she’s not done.

“Who is this?” She asks you next, making your friend huff in annoyance while the skies alight with fireworks behind your backs. It’s the fourth of July after all.

“A friend.” You tell her Carol, still cutting and trying to pretend that the Avengers aren’t gathering around you now. “An old friend, nothing more.”

You add the last part deliberately, hoping she gets what you’re trying to say but you have no luck.

A lone tear rolls down Carol’s cheek silently, breaking your heart and making you feel guiltier than you already felt, but just as you take a step closer to her she takes off flying before you can stop her.

The silence that follows her departure is deafening. One moment you’re looking into her eyes and the next you’re staring into an empty space.

You can’t breathe--you can’t breathe.

…

Steve’s booming voice pierces through the fogginess of your brain, he’s angry but what else is new?

Carol flew away because she couldn’t stand here and look at you. She left because she thought she saw something, and she’s probably convinced that she means nothing to you, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

You can’t breathe.

Steve is angry, his hands motioning everywhere while Natasha tries to mediate and maybe you should really snap out of it and help her.

You really can’t breathe, or maybe you’re just gonna be sick.

Jessica grabs your elbow when you double down, hands pressing on your lower stomach and she pulls you up, her confusion and worry making you feel even worse.

Steve’s still screaming, Natasha’s too and Tony seems to be yelling too at this point.

What did you do?

You can’t do this to the team again, you can’t.

You can’t breathe.

“Hey, hey. You’re okay.” Jessica tells you, but it doesn’t take much of an effort to shake her hold on your arm.

Without a second thought you throw yourself from the balcony.

The wind on your face feels almost liberating as you free fall, but you reach the pavement faster than you anticipated and the ground where you land, breaks around you.

You run.

…

The need to find Carol possesses you and you look everywhere you can think of, but it’s all in vain. She’s an intergalactic being and she could literally be on mars for all you know.

Your phone rings unceasingly, but none of the callers are the person you’re trying to desperately find. When the sound becomes too much, you toss your phone in the Hudson River and continue on you way.

Everything happens for a reason, right? Isn’t that how the saying goes? Maybe this happened for a reason too, maybe this is for the best.

You’ve disappointed the team one last time, maybe they’ll be better off without you.

…

You end up taking a job outside of the team, a job that takes you back to some of the things that you used to do so well when you were under Hydra’s thumb.

When that goes well, you take another, and then another.

Three weeks go by, and if it weren’t for the constant pain in your chest you’d almost be able to fool yourself into believing that the Avengers never happened, that Carol never happened.

But she finds you in Berlin, just when you’re about to hit your new target.

You see her landing a few feet away from you, you feel her and you want nothing more than to look back and see her, but you deny yourself.

Three weeks have given you the clarity that you needed to break ties, and you can’t throw them away.

“What?” You growl at her direction, making it clear that you’re annoyed by her presence. You lower your rifle, just as she walks to stand right in front of you.

Three weeks have also made you more than determined. You know what you need to do, which is why you were expecting her, have been expecting her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She demands to know, and you sit back to take a better look at her.

She’s wearing her uniform, her hair is shorter than the last time you saw her and she looks utterly and rightfully pissed. The whole image only makes you want to run, leave her like she left you that day without looking back.

“If you’re here to bring me in, do it. If you’re here to reminisce, you can go back the same way you came.” You tell her, and her face morphs into pure confusion.

You find her almost adorable, almost. She doesn’t know this part of you. None of them do.

“Is this what you’ve been doing? Gone on a killing spree?”

“It’s what I’m good at, and the money is good.” You shrug, and her mouth falls open in shock but no words come out.

“Do you feel like you don’t know me?” You ask her cruelly, perhaps even amusedly. “That’s because you don’t, babe.”

“So this is what you are now? What have you become?” She asks and you hate the softness in her tone, you hate that you can so obviously see that she still cares.

“This is who I’ve always been.” You remind her kindly, if a bit mocking. “Do you still want to date me, honey?” You mock her openly, and she flinches back.

The truth is, she’s the most powerful weapon the earth has on its ranks and you are not about to be the reason why she leaves the Avengers, or leave earth unprotected ever again.

Somewhere deep inside of you, you always knew that neither Steve or Natasha would ever ask you to leave because that’s what family is for, right?

Family is always there?

You had to be the one to leave, because you went from having Hydra control your every move to having the Avengers trying to shape you into something better, and because of that you have no idea of what you truly are.

They’ll do fine without you, and you need to be on your own if you ever want to be able to find yourself. This is your path. You were meant to be alone.

“Why are you doing this?” Carol asks and your heart breaks right along with hers, it seems. “You need to come home. Steve is about to lose his mind and Natasha hasn’t stopped looking for you. Tony is not doing any better either. Everyone is looking for you.”

You knew that, but you had to keep your eyes on the big picture. This is it, this is what matters. The team is what matters, and keeping earth protected is what matters.

“They don’t call me The Shadow just because I like to wear black clothes, babe.” You smirk at her direction, and she frowns.

“Just please, come home.” She asks you, but you catch movement in your target’s place out of the corner of your eye and you pick up your rifle in a rush.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” She takes the rifle from your hands, and if she were anyone else you’d fight her for it but you’re not delusional. The last thing you want to do is fight her.

“Target’s walking away.” You casually tell her. You’ll find him later at his mistress’s house. You’ll get the job done tonight, because the client already paid and you have a reputation to keep.

“I’m sorry if I pushed too hard.” She says, and the apology hits you just like a stray bullet would.

Her words make you stomach hurt and you lose your breath, your eyes pool with unshed tears and your throat closes up. All wonderful signs of feelings that you absolutely adore.

You don’t give into the devastation that seems to want to devour you all the way from within though, because you owe it to everyone to do this, at least.

“It wasn’t you, it was me.” You tell her with a mocking smile and tone. Her frown deepens, feeling insulted. .

You need her to leave, you need her to realize that you are not a right match for her. You never were, and you never will be.

“Just come back, please.” She still begs, and you jump to you feet. You need her gone now, or you won’t be able to get through it.

“You couldn’t just enjoy the fuck, could you?” You snarl at her, and she flinches back. “I’m not going back and unless you’re here to take me there by force then you can leave me the fuck alone.”

You pick up your rifle and your bag from the floor, and you force yourself to walk away without looking back. Your tears cloud your vision, and your heart feels like it’s breaking in half with each step that you take, but you don’t look back.

...

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers x you #carol danvers imagine #carol danvers angst #carol danvers #captain marvel x you #captain marvel imagine #captain marvel x reader #the shadow

103 notes · View notes

redclercs · 1 year ago

Text

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

xi.it’s okay we’re the best of friends

— the one where all you do is think about the feelings that you hide.

warnings: guys, my brain was failing during this so not really proofread, also please pretend the dress is the same in both pics lol, alcohol consumption. 2.5k words.

currently playing: drive by halsey!

masterlist ✢ next

Liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, mati.bassi, tchalamet and others.

View comments

softyn FIRST POST SINCE MAY AND MOTHER WANTS US DEAD

ynstars I LOVE YOU SO MUCH SLAY

aid4anfeels ugly bitch

lecsainz516 whose wedding is this, charles and carlos were there too

formulayn did @/charles_leclerc take these?

liked by charles_leclerc

THE COMMENTS FOR THIS POST ARE LIMITED.

August 5th, Madrid, Spain.

WHEN Charles said you needed to make new memories in Spain to replace the bad ones, you didn’t have a wedding in mind. However, with the rollercoaster that is your life as of lately, you don’t swim against the current anymore. Just going with it is not a bad way to live when you’re still trying to reach the surface and get away from the wreckage.

Things aren’t good. Not yet. The press is still having a field day with all that he said, she said merry go round. Aidan and Victoria are fighting to play the victim and Mia Kim is on a mission to paint you as the worst sister-in-law who could have ever existed. Which, to be fair, paints her in a weird Freudian light.

But things are better than they were the last time you were in Spain. And that’s something to be grateful for.

“Are you sure?” You asked Charles on FaceTime for the third time that night two weeks ago, he had just asked you to be his plus one to one of his Ferrari mates’ wedding. “Are you a hundred percent sure they won’t mind?”

The last thing you wanted was to feel like an intruder, and with the type of attention you carry around like a dark cloud over your head, ruining someone’s special day was not an experience you wanted to add to your repertoire.

“Of course they won’t mind, soleil.” Charles assured, he was still in Hungary after the Grand Prix. “Tommaso told me I could bring anyone, and I want to bring you.”

The last time you saw Charles in person was in New York City, almost two months ago. It doesn't mean, of course, that you stopped communicating. Whenever Charles is on his phone, you can be certain you'll receive a text, a picture or a random iMessage drawing. You handle time zones as best you can without sacrificing too much sleep time, especially for the one who has to drive a car at 300 km/hr.

Although he insisted on you coming to any Grand Prix of your choice, you thought it best to stay away from the paddock for a while. Plus, you had some work to do. You didn't love Talk Shows while promoting, most hosts did horrible, unfunny jokes, and you were the butt of a lot of them, but if being in some of them helped you to speak about your situation and dismiss whatever rumor Victoria, Aidan or Mia (or just about half the internet) had going on, you were willing to make the sacrifice.

You were also willing to attend a complete stranger's wedding just to see Charles again, but you didn't want to give that thought the depth it demanded from you. Not in the seven hour flight from New York to Madrid, and not now, as you're getting ready for Charles to pick you up to go to the wedding.

Your blue dress is frankly magnificent, and you are aware of how good you look, but it doesn't hurt that the first thing Charles does when the doors to the lift open, is compliment you. Well, to be fair, the first thing he does is gather his thoughts and try not to feel stupid after basically picking his jaw up from the floor.

"You look gorgeous," Charles says, clearing his throat. His sudden anxiety makes you chuckle, as his Adam's apple bobs up his neck. "I missed you so much, soleil."

You are mildly disappointed when he doesn't hug you the way he did back in New York, and you dismiss the feeling almost as quickly as it appeared. Although his words linger in the air, he missed you, and you did too.

"I don't want to ruin your hair," he explains, as if he's read your mind, and smiles wider.

"Right," you shake your head, it was obvious. "You look pretty good yourself, Charlie," you add, always trying to return the compliment, and only managing to make it awkward.

There is something about men in suits that makes them twice as attractive, and it's unfair when it comes to someone like Charles, who is already way too handsome as it is.

"Thank you," Charles is always nice enough to accept your half-assed, anxiety induced compliments. "Shall we?"

You nod, and when he offers his arm to lead you to the car, you link yours through it taking a breath so deep, it makes your lungs ache.

"Do you like weddings?" Charles asks as the engine of his car roars to life. A red Ferrari is the only way you manage to describe it, afraid of getting details wrong. Although you're certain Charles would patiently explain anything you needed to know about it, you don't ask.

"Everyone likes weddings," you reply, setting both hands on top of your knees. "Right?"

Charles chuckles and shrugs, "I guess so,"

You love weddings, except when you're expected to be the bride.

"Charles," you pat his shoulder and he takes his eyes off the road for the briefest second. "Are you completely sure the bride doesn't mind my presence?"

You don't want to give yourself some sort of importance you don't deserve—the bride has more important things to worry about—but particularly nervous about how your presence will be received at the celebration.

"Seriously, y/n," Charles soothes, his right hand leaves the steering wheel and searches for your own blindly, accidentally landing on your empty lap. He takes his hand back immediately, red creeping up his neck. "It's fine." he resolves, his sight way too focused on the road now.

"Alright," you whisper, smoothing the skirt of your dress. "Alright."

Both of you remain silent the rest of the way as you take in the Spanish landscape and Charles drives like his life depends on it. You promised yourself you'd ask for as much information on the happy couple as you could, but your voice is lost in the pit that opened in your stomach.

And the evening is just beginning.

It's after the ceremony, at cocktail hour that you find everything out about Tommaso and Bárbara thanks to none other than Carlos Sainz, who seems to really have a thing for gossip and also, for making fun of you for crying during the vows.

"Leave me alone, Carlos," you warn for the last time, this time threatening him with your closed fist. "Not my fault you don't have a heart in that big-ass chest."

This makes him laugh harder, and even Charles chuckles against the lip of his whiskey glass.

"I miss you so much around the paddock, y/n!" Carlos sighs, patting the place above his heart. "For real."

You click your tongue. "Sure you do,"

Carlos and you talk a lot less than Charles and you do, of course. But if Charles calls you during whatever free time he has while in the Ferrari Suite, you can trust Carlos to insert himself in the conversation.

"And a lot of the other drivers do too," Carlos' tone is mocking again, and you glower at him.

"Stop picking on me," this time you punch him on the shoulder.

"I'm being serious. Lando has a crush on you,"

You talked to Lando a few times, mostly when he and Carlos were being boys and hitting each other in the balls outside the Ferrari Suite and Lando made small talk as he tried not to touch his private parts. A crush is an exaggeration, Lando just told you he thought you were cool for making movies.

"Why don't we take some pictures?" Charles suggests before downing the rest of his whiskey. You don't miss the look he gives Carlos.

"Why not?" you smile at Charles, shrugging. The place is beautiful and you would love to have a memory of this whole thing that you can go back to.

"I'll catch up with you guys," Carlos calls as you two walk away, uninterested in the impromptu photoshoot.

Charles directs an annoyed look at him again and then makes it go away to return his attention to you.

"What was that?" you ask, taking Charles' arm again for him to lead you to where the rest of the guests are more scattered and won't photobomb your pictures.

"What was what?" Charles lifts an eyebrow, forever the expert at playing dumb. Or, not really.

You shake your head, this is another deep thought you don't want to venture into. There is enough of this weird tension already, and you're not sure if Charles feels it too.

─────────

"Your girlfriend is beautiful," a lady is patting your hand, a gentle smile on her face as she looks at Charles. She's the spouse of another Ferrari team member, and the first thing she did was compliment your dress before even asking for your name.

"Oh, I'm not—"

"We're just friends," Charles clears up, gentle as well. "But y/n really is beautiful."

The woman raises both eyebrows and laughs, an 'oh you kids' snicker that isn't unkind. "Of course, of course."

It's the first time of many during this party that Charles has to say you're not in a relationship, and it seems to get easier every time the words come out of his mouth.

Although it's true, you're not sure why it nags at you.

You cry again during the couple's First Dance and verbally threaten Carlos to leave you alone as you wipe your tears carefully, doing your best to keep your makeup intact. He laughs, but takes your threat seriously and remains quiet. This whole Tom and Jerry thing is amusing but he doesn't want to actually make you angry.

A few songs in, after you're done bickering with Carlos and you have finished your third glass of champagne, Charles asks you to dance with him.

An slowed-down version of Sixpence's 'Kiss Me' plays as you take the dance floor. You blame your giddiness on the fact that you finished that flute of champagne in record time.

"What is it?" Charles questions, smoothly placing one hand on your hip while the other holds your palm. His thumb runs up and down the curve of your wrist.

"What if I step on your foot?" you retort, looking up at him. That's only one thing that makes you nervous, although you know how to dance. You took lessons for both Supercut and Parisian Valentine.

Laughter bubbles from Charles' chest and you join in, although this makes you even more nervous. It would be stupid to say you don't see how handsome he is, even if he's just your friend.

"I won't mind," Charles promises, and his fingers press a little harder against your hip bone.

"Okay, then."

It's obviously not a complicated endeavor to sway around the dance floor with Charles, he lets you set the pace, lacing your fingers together after you spin back to him.

"Thank you for coming with me, soleil," he says in a low voice. You can smell the alcohol in his breath although it's been a while since he stopped drinking, he still has to drive you back to your hotel. "I really missed you these two months."

"I love weddings. Thanks for inviting me," you squeeze his shoulder, the contrast of your manicured nails against his shirt distracts you momentarily from the fact that you can feel his breath against your jaw.

It's the second time today that you miss the chance to tell him you missed him too, and you know he notices it by the way he leans away.

The song ends before your tongue decides to respond to you again and Charles lets go of you. A few seconds feel like an hour as you stare at each other, unable—or unwilling—to say anything of what either of you really want to say.

"Care to dance?" a guy with longish hair and dark eyes is offering you his hand now, as a faster song starts and the lights around the room turn brighter.

You break eye contact with Charles and when you look at him again, he just nods, taking a step back to your assigned table.

"Sure," you tell the guy, a tense smile on your face. "Let's dance."

The ride back to your hotel is silent again, and you're too tired to find a way to fill it.

Charles' energy has shifted and this makes your stomach turn. Your anxiety worsens every time you feel someone is 'off' towards you, and that someone being Charles makes it a hundred times worse.

He takes the elevator to your room with you, placing his hand gently in the middle of your bare back to let you in first.

"We're okay, right?" you whisper, looking at your distorted reflections on the silver wall of the cubicle.

You see Charles' reflection frown and then his face turns to you. "Of course we're okay, y/n. Is something wrong?"

You shake your head, the loose strands of your bun tickle your nape. "I'm just wondering."

Charles is never bothered by your need for reassurance, not even when he needs reassurance himself. That he's not being a complete and absolute moron by wanting the woman all the boys want to dance with, and holding onto that little slither of hope that he might have a chance with her. He's the one standing next to you after the party, still.

"We are okay. Didn't you have fun today?" he asks, pushing those thoughts aside. You're friends. Just friends.

"Of course I did!" you inhale sharply, "I just— nevermind." you take your hand to the back of your head, already tired of the half undone bun that threatens to give you a headache.

"I had fun. I always have fun when I'm with you," Charles follows you out of the elevator and down the hallway to the third door marked with a 3321.

You're still struggling to find the exact hairpin that holds your hairdo together, and Charles pinpoints it almost at the same time as you do, pulling it out swiftly to make your hair fall down your shoulders.

It's a meaningless gesture, Charles hasn't given it a second thought or stopped walking. But a shiver runs down your back as his knuckles graze your nape.

"Thanks, Charlie." You say, swallowing.

"Of course," Charles puts the pin inside the pocket of his trousers with a shrug.

You stand in front of the room for a minute, having a stare down again as you rub the back of your head.

"Thank you again for today, Charles." you're the one to break the silence, keycard already between your fingers. "I had a great time."

"I'm glad, soleil." Charles his dimples appear when he smiles and your breath hitches when he leans towards you. It feels like you've been showered with ice cold water. "Good night, y/n," he says and presses his lips against your cheek.

"Good night, Charlie," you wave him goodbye from the door as he walks back to the lift.

The feeling of his lips against your skin is there, even after you've washed your face and tucked yourself into bed.

─── team principal radio: ❝thank you for reading! surprisingly, i don't have much to say this time other than i really hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that I appreciate each one of you dearly!♡❞

✰ paddock club members: @sassyheroneckgiant @flowerchild-96 @fangirlika @shegotboreddsoo @roseamongthorns13 @cissyp @chimchimjiminie16 @saturnsrinqs @roni-midnights @gayyvodka6 @studioreader @its-ash-not-grey @lu-morningstar @ferraribabe @reidsworld @feelslikestrawberries @celestialams @kosmosgalore @heeseung-baby @missenclod @buendiabebeta @mycenterfold @aces-tattooartist @burningrred @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @rainybabe25 @ru-kru @lazybot @teenagedreams-cl @cool-ultra-nerd @kuskumu @formulakay3 @bisexual-desi @somanyfandomsbruh @icarus-nex @haziefairy @xjval @xoxoloverb @sainzleclercs @headinthecloudssblog @incoherenciass @bookophiliac @torrie421 @nooshytushie @azxulaa @steephanie07 @anonymous8462 @tbisloneely @pukklv @bn7921 @be-your-coffee-pot @fdl305 @lovely-blackinnon @landonorizzz @ruleroftheuniverse @ivegotparticulartaste

want to join the paddock club? click here!

if you are not tagged please check your blog settings because tumblr isn't letting me tag you

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fluff #cl16 fanfic #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine

931 notes · View notes

romanoffsbish · 1 year ago

Text

A Whiskey Lullaby (A Cruel Life)

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Heavily Inspired by:

You were tired. You always were now that you knew you were dying. The doctor said at least a year but they were too enthused; lying to you, because it was only two months since then and you knew very well that the day you die is here.

And now — You wanted to talk to your wife, to get to maybe share one more dance beneath the stars but she wasn't available. She hadn't been for awhile, before you stopped running from your fate. The drinking started a month before, the lying and constant evasion came next. Natasha was mad at you, and you were dying. Dying to know why, dying to hear her say I love you one last time, but, she was dying to strangle you, to take you before the cancer.

——

Dying to know why, and as she laid on the couch with a puddle of beer staining the carpet you told her, "There's never a right time to say goodbye my dear, and I hope you'll forgive me in due time for leaving you this way." Forgive you for what? She'll never know because she was too drunk to hear you verbalize what she already knew was in your heart (and lungs).

Cancer took you and the world mourned first.

Natasha woke up to the deafening silence. Not even the birds were singing. The dead leaves not falling, and you weren't answering her pleas. Natasha crumbled to her knees beside the bed. Her guilt laced grief rattling through the cracks in the walls she'd recklessly built.

The bright leaves fell then. As did your limp hand from hers when she felt the chilled skin.

The redhead stumbled from your room and sent Yelena a text, "Izvini." (Sorry). Then she returned with a poisoned bottle of whiskey.

Natasha failed to love you like she solemnly promised (vowed). She let grief consume her. The waste of time drinking started the moment that she knew you were leaving her behind. It wasn't the actuality—the cruel world taking you—nope, it was you, breaking a sacred promise.

To stay with her til the end, hers; not yours.

How could you take her lifeline away? Then actually expect her to breathe right some day?

Natasha wouldn't give you that satisfaction.

You neglected yourself for the sake of her for years. Not complaining of pain when she was met with financial problems after Tony died and his estate froze the Avengers funds until they could unveil his final will and testament.

During the blip she was running out of money every time she thought she stood a chance at bringing you back; you, who was already sick.

A daughter lost her father, a wife her husband. Millions were brought back from extinction, surely it counted for something, but what did all of the sacrifice mean if she lost you too?

Her mind plays a loop of every time you'd coughed while you were on the run with her. Never near a hospital long enough to tell her that something was wrong, because you would never risk losing her to Ross as you got cured.

She would have turned herself in to Tony for him to swear to it you were covered. The man loved you enough to put differences aside, and Ross wasn't stupid enough to let you die.

Natasha would have survived because she would have gotten you back eventually. She was well known for her ability to make herself disappear and return when the time is right.

Timing was always tough for you two. Like when you missed the first date because you saw someone in need and tended to them instead.

You felt peace for a glorious few seconds.

Then once you realized you blew the redhead off you ran around the city on a mission. It started with you getting wine, then a pizza and ended with you pleading with the owner of the flower shop to unlock the door, and then once more pleading with a fist at Nat's front door.

You knocked, and knocked until she opened. You handed her the smushed up tulips in a rash wave of anxiety and she spluttered the petals from her lips and stared at you blankly. Green eyes holding a grudge against her perfect match, a foolish wager to take a chance on.

Natasha's anger nearly blew it, but you beat her with your rushed words: "I'm sorry for missing our date Natasha. I love pasta, and you too."

Natasha's eyes widened and you shrugged with a playful smile. "Surprise if you didn't already know! It was unrequited love in the start babe," you reminded her and she pouted. You flashed her an even dreamier smile, "But it worked out in the end," and teased her with a smug wink.

"It did, didn't it?" Natasha smiled and planned to kiss you breathless, to seal the deal of your hearts greatest desires. Then you ruined it.

Well, at least partially... Halting her game.

"I don't actually apologize though, because I couldn't leave that little boy crying beneath the dimmed streetlights of a ruthless city. He clung to me before I even saw him, so I put on my hero cap and helped him to find his mother."

Natasha's dagger eyes twisted into hearts.

"After four blocks of searching I heard her calling for Dylan, the little stinker lifted his head and cried. His mother was on me in an instant and only refrained from punching me when she saw I was an Avenger. If it were me I still would've swung. But she didn't. Only took a photo then thanked me in a rush to fame."

Natasha watched you in amusement as your face revealed your thoughts first, you scoffed humorously at that, it was just peculiar to you because: "If you share that story, all you are saying is 'I'm the mom who lost sight of my toddler in the streets of a devious New York.'"

You went to catch your breath, but the redhead needed you to stop blabbing, so she pulled you into a kiss that took your next to last breath.

Then she had to go and silence you to never have to face the ramifications of the true last breath. It left your lips while she slept in torment, her dreams were always cruel now.

As she took the last sip she sighed, because at this time she'd be escaping the wake up call.

Natasha shed a relieved tear, her dulled eyes closed and the empty bottle in her hand slipped onto the ground and shattered. The birds cried and the trees stood barren. The sun that just rose eventually set. Your lifeless bodies connected like lovers unlike they'd been prior.

That doomed night, the angels and birds sang in a practiced symphony; a whiskey lullaby.

The world lost two more heroes in the aftermath. Everyone mourned, Yelena buried you both beneath the willows, and cried as she yelled at you two for being so selfish. Laura clung to the blonde because now she was down a husband and sisters, by blood and marriage.

Yelena gave into the reality that this was all the family she had left. Losing the same sisters left them bonded now, in a morbidly unfair way.

It was frivolous really, to grieve the loss instead of celebrate the conquered life. They cry out; but to a void, neither of you could hear the mourning; eternally booked and busy.

Too busy rejoicing in your afterlives together.

Natasha got a second chance at loving you.

She'd found you in a field, out of breath from all the racing to get to you, but also because you were glowing brighter than ever before. Wearing a vivacious smile and looking pretty.

Much like when she found you earth-side she crumbed to her knees, sobbing. But this time her tears were a mix of bitter joy. You quickly shushed her though, and pulled her to her feet and right into a deep, meaningful kiss. It was free of sin, but the deviants would get off to it in a porno because they'd feel the authenticity.

The love was palpable and renewed. She cried into your mouth but you continued smiling.

"I'm sorry," Natasha whispered into the warm skin of your neck. Not like blood pumping beneath skin, but more so a sensational bliss. "I ruined our happy ever after moya lyubov'."

"Don't be sorry Natasha," you refuted her while spinning her around by your grip on her hips. Forcing her to see the dreams you shared in front of her. Day flashed to night and you spun her around beneath the light of the moon.

When you finally stopped spinning her she fell into your arms in a graceless way she detested. Her brows furrowed once again but you kissed her lips and devilishly distracted her mind. Pulling away you gasped, then smiled so soft that she finally deemed this moment reality.

You were her angel always, but you were finally free of the cruel restraints of a limited world. Natasha jumped and you caught her, she wrapped her arms around your neck, her legs mirroring them around your waist. You pecked her lips then said: "We lived that life full of regrets, always forgiving, but unable to forget. Let's save the now for absolution, we're free."

"In paradise baby," Natasha cheered and the sun set. Then it rose without conditions, and you lived out your dreams with your lover.

Eternity was kind to you, oh the places your love could've gone if only life had been too.

——

Heartbreaking Angst | Not Even a Happy Life so Why Would the End be Any Different? | Exactly | Just Kidding Babe | The end is for making amends 💕

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x wife!reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x you #gxg

399 notes · View notes