#stab me why don’t you
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plasticl0ve · 5 months ago
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WHAT THE FUCK?????? HOW DARE YOU 😭
– LUCKY NUMBER FOUR
– pairing: natasha romanoff x reader
– synopsis: natasha and the different kinds of love.
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fluffypotatey · 7 months ago
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Macaque wants so badly for wukong to love him, to value him. And since he can't have that, then he better make sure he's a pain in the ass that wukong can't forget again
taking that “I’ve met some annoying people in my life, but they also met me” to heart when it comes to Wukong, eh Macky? 🤨
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ozarkthedog · 5 months ago
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shirtless, bloody old man Logan. i can’t fucking breathe.
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dollopole · 3 months ago
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I should find another hobby
Anyway, if Merlin was set in modern times, Arthur would have called Merlin his “gay awakening”.
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plasticl0ve · 3 months ago
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WHAT THE FUCK 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
A Feline Connection Part 4
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Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader
Summary: Natasha works together with you to help Widow and learns a bit more about just the kind of person you are.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Warnings: light angst, violence, hurt/comfort, fluff
Words: 4329
Natasha steps onto the rooftop of a building, her footsteps barely making a sound as she surveys the city sprawled out beneath her. The low hum of night traffic mixed with the distant murmur of voices, creating the familiar backdrop of New York City after dark.
She approaches the edge of the building, her gaze sweeping across the streets below, her mind preoccupied with the message you had sent her.
A quick glance at her phone confirmed the location and time. She was exactly where she needed to be, but there was no sign of you or your little companion yet.
Natasha lets out a quiet breath, pocketing her phone as her thoughts drift to you.
Despite the doubts her training pressed upon her, her instincts tell her you weren’t a bad person—that she could trust you.
But she couldn’t let her personal feelings interfere, not when so much was still uncertain.
Your situation was complicated, tangled in a web of dangerous choices, which meant Natasha had to remain cautious and vigilant.
That’s when she feels a subtle shift in the air, a sudden presence behind her.
Instinctively, Natasha whirls around, her hand snapping out to catch a wrist mid-motion.
Her eyes meet yours, and in the instant of realization, she halts the throw she was about to execute. Instead, the force just pulls you closer in the process, until your chest is pressed against hers.
You stumble slightly, your hand instinctively landing on her shoulder for balance and support.
Natasha freezes, her breath catching at the sudden proximity.
Neither of you move, the air between you charged with tension. The heat of your body pressed intimately against hers sends a jolt through her system, and for a split second, she forgets to breathe.
A low chuckle escapes you, the sound reverberating against her chest. You look up, amusement dancing in your eyes.
“You’re getting better,” you murmur, a teasing smile curving your lips. “This makes it four to one.”
Natasha blinks, still processing just how close you are.
“Four to one?” she echoes, her brow furrowing slightly.
“How many times I’ve successfully sneaked up on you,” you clarify, your smirk widening. “You’ve only caught me once now.”
Natasha huffs, a faint smirk of her own tugging at her lips.
“Two of those times, I was asleep,” she counters.
You shake your head, clicking your tongue playfully.
“That’s no excuse for the Black Widow,” you tease. “What would your fans think?”
Before Natasha realizes what she is doing, she finds herself leaning slightly closer to you.
“I don’t know,” she whispers, her voice lower than usual, “you tell me.”
Your grin widens, clearly enjoying the usual banter between the two of you.
“I’m sure they’ll still be impressed by your other charming qualities,” you respond softly.
But beneath the amusement, there was a flicker of something else in your eyes—something deeper, almost as if you were daring her to close the distance between you.
Natasha’s pulse quickens, the warmth of your body drawing her in like a magnet, the faint glow of the city lights behind you only adding to the moment.
But just as quickly, she reminds herself of the situation. Of where you both stand.
She swallows, clearing her throat as she quickly releases your wrist and takes a step back, pushing away the feeling that had crept up on her.
“So,” Natasha begins, her voice slightly more controlled, “where’s our little friend?”
Before you can respond, something small and quick leaps onto Natasha’s back, clinging briefly before hopping onto her shoulder.
Startled for a moment, Natasha relaxes as she turns to see Widow perched there, letting out a happy meow in greeting.
Natasha chuckles softly, reaching up to scratch under Widow’s chin.
“There you are.”
You step around her, moving toward the ledge with a teasing glance.
“I’m pretty sure Widow’s score against you is much higher though,” you remark over your shoulder, brushing past her as you approach the edge of the rooftop.
Natasha’s eyes follow you, her attention drawn in once more, mesmerized as you gaze out over the cityscape, your features softened in the dim light.
That familiar warm feeling stirs within her as she takes in the sight of you.
Her focus is only broken when a soft paw taps at her cheek.
Natasha turns her gaze to the feline, who gives her an almost teasing meow before leaping gracefully from her shoulder to yours.
You smile fondly at the cat, gently stroking her fur before turning your focus back to the building across the street.
It’s an exclusive club—one of those high-end places with multiple floors reserved for private, discreet business dealings, both professional and personal, and most of the time, not law-abiding.
“What are we doing here?” Natasha asks, joining you by the ledge.
“This is where the control system for the device inside of Widow is being kept,” you explain, your tone shifting into something more serious.
“How do you know?”
You glance at her, raising an eyebrow in return.
Natasha nods slightly in understanding.
“You already tried to steal it,” she guesses, her eyes scanning the building across from you both. “But something went wrong.”
A small smile tugs at your lips, a hint of amusement flashing in your eyes.
“The system can’t leave this location,” you explain, giving Widow a gentle scratch on the head before setting her down on the ledge. “And Widow has to stay close enough to maintain the connection, which means the bomb has to be deactivated on-site.”
Natasha hums in acknowledgment, her fingers resting lightly against the cool stone of the building as she considers the situation. Deactivating a bomb with specific limitations–that’s something she can definitely help you with.
After a moment of silence, you speak again.
“How’s your mission going?” you ask casually, glancing sideways at her.
Natasha shoots you a look, one that clearly conveys her wariness of sharing too much. You had interfered with her mission before, after all, and trust was still a fragile thing between the two of you.
“Let’s just focus on deactivating the bomb first,” she says, pivoting away from your question.
You smile knowingly, understanding and respecting her decision to keep things close to the chest.
“Fair enough.”
Standing beside Widow, you pull out a small pen-like device from your pocket.
Natasha watches curiously as you aim it at one of the windows across the street.
A thin red laser flickers from the pen, bouncing off the glass as you click it a few times.
Widow’s attention snaps to the laser instantly, her tail twitching in anticipation. She lets out a soft meow before, without hesitation, leaping gracefully from the ledge.
Natasha’s heart skipped a beat as she watched the cat jump, and she leaned over the edge, only to see the feline's agile body landing on a nearby balcony below before disappearing into the shadows.
“You sure she’ll be okay?” Natasha asks, unable to keep the concern out of her voice.
You shoot her a playful glance.
“I told you—they always land on their feet.”
Natasha rolls her eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. Standing a bit straighter, she turns back to you.
“So, what’s next?”
“Now…” you trail off, stepping closer to her, brushing your fingers lightly against her shoulder.
Your smirk deepens as you lean in, the space between you narrowing again.
“Now we see if the Black Widow can keep up.”
Before Natasha can respond, you shoot a grappling line across the street, the device pulling you swiftly into the shadows of the opposing building’s alleyway.
Natasha’s heart races as she watches you disappear, your movements smooth and precise.
Without hesitation, she grabs her own grappling hook, launching herself into the air with practiced ease. As her feet hit the ground, adrenaline surges through her veins, heightening her senses.
She stays close behind, catching glimpses of you darting through alleyways, your figure slipping in and out of view.
Almost closing the distance, Natasha rounds a final corner, only to find herself alone, standing at the back entrance of the building.
She scans the area, brow furrowing when she doesn’t see any sign of you.
Stepping up to the back door, Natasha tugs at the handle—locked.
That means you didn’t go in this way, but discovering that doesn’t mean it’s not something she can’t use.
With a determined sigh, Natasha knocks loudly, stepping back as the door clicks open.
A confused guard peers out, and Natasha gives him a small wave.
"Hey," Natasha greets with a disarming smile.
Before the guard can react, she flips him over her shoulder with a quick, fluid motion, knocking him out cold. Catching the door before it closes, she slips inside.
Moving swiftly through the dark back room, Natasha reaches the main doors leading into the club’s crowded interior. She cracks the door open, scanning the room for any sign of you but finding none.
Wondering about your whereabouts, Natasha suddenly feels a light touch on her shoulder and turns her head quickly, startled to find you standing there with a teasing smile.
“That’s another point for me,” you say, your tone playful.
Natasha huffs in disbelief but can’t deny you’ve managed to sneak up on her yet again.
Before she can respond, you grab her hand and pull her into the chaotic crowd of the club.
“Come on, Widow’s probably already waiting for us,” you say over your shoulder.
The music is loud, bodies moving in rhythm all around you as you guide her toward the bar. You signal the bartender for drinks before leaning back casually against the counter.
Without missing a beat, you slide Natasha’s hand to rest on your waist, your arm casually wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her closer.
Natasha’s breath catches, her body brushing against yours as her other hand rests on the bar counter for support.
The close proximity between you stirs something within her, her pulse quickening at the way your warmth seeps into her skin.
Leaning in, you make it look like you’re whispering something intimate, but your words are purely business, focused on the mission.
“The only way to the elevator for the exclusive floors is through that door,” you murmur, nodding toward a guarded entrance. “We’ll need a valid room key to get in.”
Natasha swallows, the sensation of your breath against her ear momentarily distracting her.
“You have one?” she asks, her voice slightly breathless.
"Not yet," you reply, leaning back, your eyes gleaming with mischief. "But I’ll have one in a second. How’s your acting?"
Before Natasha can respond, the bartender sets two drinks beside you.
Turning, you grab them quickly before spinning on your heel and colliding with a nearby patron.
The impact sends the drinks spilling all over the man’s expensive suit. He lets out a shout of surprise, his face contorting in outrage.
“Oh! I’m so sorry!” you exclaim, your tone perfectly apologetic as you frantically pat his soaked jacket with a napkin.
The man scowls, waving off your apology and shoving you back roughly.
“This suit is worth more than your life!” he snaps angrily.
Before he can say anything else, Natasha steps in, her arm wrapping protectively around your waist as she pulls you against her.
Her gaze sharpens, daring the man to make a scene.
“It was an accident, and she already apologized,” Natasha says, her tone firm. “Now, I suggest you go clean yourself up before you say anything else you’ll regret.”
The man hesitates, his mouth opening as if to argue, but when his eyes meet Natasha’s steely glare, he rethinks his decision.
With a disgruntled huff, he storms off toward the restroom.
Turning in her arms, you flash her a playful grin.
"My hero," you tease, placing a dramatic hand on her shoulder.
Natasha rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips.
“The key card?” she prompts.
With a smirk, you hold up the card you deftly swiped from the man’s jacket.
“Got it.”
“Show-off,” Natasha mutters, though her voice is tinged with warmth.
With the key card in hand, you lead her toward the guarded entrance, your hand finding hers again.
The guards barely glance at you as you approach, their attention more focused on the crowd behind you.
With a quick swipe of the card, the door unlocks, and the two of you slip past the guards, making your way toward the private elevator.
Once inside, the doors close with a soft hiss, and the noise from the club fades into silence.
The enclosed space feels intimate, and Natasha is acutely aware of your proximity, your hand still lightly clasped around hers.
“So, what’s next after we finish this?” Natasha asks, her voice softer.
You lean casually against the wall, tilting your head at her with a teasing smile.
“Already thinking about the future? We haven’t even finished the mission yet.”
Natasha huffs a soft laugh, but there’s an underlying seriousness to her question.
“Will you leave the city?” she asks, her voice softening in understanding how that would be the safest option for the two of you once their leverage on you is gone.
Your playful demeanor falters slightly, replaced by a more thoughtful expression.
“I don’t know. Widow’s grown pretty fond of you,” you say before giving her a soft smile.
“She’ll miss you…” you swing your clasped hand lightly before adding in a whisper. “…and I might too."
Natasha’s heart skips a beat, her eyes locking with yours. The space between you seems smaller, the air around you charged with something unspoken.
Before either of you can say anything more, the elevator dings, signaling your arrival.
Natasha glances away, the moment interrupted as the doors slide open to reveal a sleek, quiet hallway.
You let go of her hand as you step out of the elevator with Natasha following soon after.
You find the door you need to enter at the end of the hall.
There is only one problem—a complex lock is in place, far more sophisticated than expected.
You kneel before it, pulling out a small set of tools from your jacket.
Natasha stands beside you, her eyes scanning the hallway as you start working on the lock.
You can feel her close, her presence like a shadow hovering protectively over you.
A few moments in, the sound of approaching footsteps reaches Natasha’s ears, her posture tensing.
She knows that just standing by the door is too suspicious, especially if someone spots them like this.
She’s about to warn you and prepare for a confrontation when, without missing a beat, you stand abruptly and grab Natasha by the arm, pulling her close.
Natasha’s eyes widen for a split second, but you’re quicker—your lips press against hers, soft and urgent.
It takes her only a heartbeat to respond, melting into the kiss, her hand sliding up to cup your neck, pulling you closer.
Your back bumps against the door as Natasha steps forward, closing any distance between your bodies. You gasp in surprise at the action, the soft and low sound escaping from you as Natasha deepens the kiss.
Her lips move against yours with a heat and intensity that catches both of you off guard while your fingers find and clench at her jacket, pulling her impossibly closer to you.
Natasha’s body molds perfectly against yours as the sound of the footsteps draws nearer.
Whoever was coming stops briefly at the end of the hall, but the sight of two people lost in a passionate embrace seems to deter them, and soon the footsteps retreat quickly.
As soon as the danger passes, you pull back slightly, your breath warm against her lips, your dilated eyes still locked with hers as a flush graces your cheeks.
Natasha feels a rush of heat in her chest at the sight and finds herself wanting to linger in the moment.
“Was that part of the plan?” Natasha whispers, her voice rough and breathless.
You smirk, your thumb brushing lightly against her waist.
“Improvised. But effective,” you tilt your head slightly, causing your nose to brush lightly against hers, your voice lowering. “I’m sure that’s not the first time you’ve had to pretend to kiss someone.”
Natasha smirks, though her voice is tinged with something more.
“Sure…pretend.”
For a moment, the two of you don’t move any further away from each other, the heat still remaining.
Natasha exhales softly as her eyes linger on you a moment longer, and she finds herself leaning in again, slow enough for you to move away if you want.
But you don’t.
Just as she’s about to close the distance again, a sharp click echoes through the hallway—the lock disengaging.
The sound pulls both of you back to the mission at hand, interrupting the moment, and the two of you hear a distinct familiar meow from behind the door.
Clearing your throat lightly, you give her a small smile before turning the door handle and stepping back to push the door open.
“After you,” you say softly, holding the door open for her.
Releasing a steadying breath, Natasha steps past you, her heart still racing from the kiss, but her focus returns to the task ahead.
Inside the room, the dim light casts shadows on the furniture.
Widow steps out from the darkness, meowing softly as she moves toward Natasha.
However, the cat stops in the space between the two of you and turns her sharp gaze from you to her curiously as if she senses the shift of the tension in the air.
Natasha scratches the cat’s head gently in greeting before glancing at you.
“Where’s the system?” she asks, her mind shifting back to the mission.
You move to the large desk, pressing a hidden panel. The surface slides open, revealing a sleek terminal.
“Right here. Couldn’t exactly carry this out the window,” you joke.
Natasha moves to the screen, her fingers quickly accessing the system.
Widow hops onto the desk, curiously observing Natasha before attempting to reach for the keys on the keyboard, but you pull her back before she can.
“No,” you reprimand gently.
The cat lets out a small, disgruntled cry, displeased at not being allowed to assist Natasha in her hacking.
Natasha’s lips quirk up fondly at the cat’s antics before returning to her task.
As she works, you stand nearby, watching her closely, your presence a comforting weight beside her.
For a moment, the mission fades, and Natasha finds herself thinking about your words in the elevator and what happened earlier, wondering if this—whatever this is—could be something more.
But there’s still so much she doesn’t know about you—of the things you’re still hiding.
Wanting to learn more, Natasha breaks the silence, her voice soft.
“What happened between you and them? To make them go this far?”
You lean against the desk, your teasing tone light.
“Trying to dig into my past, Miss Black Widow? Feels like something we’d discuss on a first date.”
Natasha smirks, her fingers still moving over the keys.
“This would definitely be one of the more interesting dates I’ve had.”
You chuckle, running a hand through Widow’s fur as she curls beside you.
Just when Natasha thinks you’re not going to tell her, you speak up.
“We worked together for years. Started off small—simple jobs, easy money. But then, things got darker. Shadier deals, dangerous clients.” Your voice lowers, growing more serious. “I didn’t know people were getting hurt. But when I found out…I couldn’t stay. So, Widow and I ran.”
Natasha nods, her heart softening at your story.
“And now they want you to pay for that.”
“Pretty much,” you say before hesitating slightly and deciding to add under your breath. “That and when I left, I stole almost all of their money at the time and gave it away anonymously to multiple charities across the world.”
Natasha pauses, her brows raising at you in disbelief.
You give her a serious nod in response, no signs of joking or teasing in your expression. Widow meows as if confirming your statement.
Natasha exhales an impressed huff, shaking her head slightly.
“That’s bold,” she states, her fingers moving deftly over the keyboard as she resumes her work. “But strangely, not surprising of you.”
You let out a light laugh, pushing off the edge of the desk where you’d been leaning. There’s a casual ease in your posture, but your gaze lingers on her as if considering something deeper.
“What about your past, Miss Black Widow?”
Natasha’s lip twists slightly, a flicker of sadness crossing her face before she looks up at you.
“Everything I’ve done was revealed to the public when SHIELD fell,” she says, her voice carrying a heavy note of resignation. “So, you know my past isn’t all that much better than yours. Neither am I.”
A quiet settles over the room, the only sound being the soft clicking of the keys as Natasha continues her work.
You watch her in that silence, your mind running over her words and the weight they carry.
Finally, you break the stillness, your tone thoughtful.
“I disagree.”
Natasha glances at you with an amused smirk on her lips.
“And what do you think you know about me?”
You meet her gaze steadily, the playful edge in your smile softening as you speak.
“I know you have trouble sleeping because you’re haunted by what you’ve done.”
Natasha freezes, her fingers going still as her eyes snap up to meet yours, surprise flickering in her gaze.
You hold that connection, offering a small, genuine smile as you continue.
“I know that’s why you spend your life dedicated to helping others. Why you keep trying to fix things, why you’re helping me and Widow.”
As if on cue, the cat meows from her perch on the desk, casting a curious look between the two of you. You chuckle lightly at Widow’s timing before turning back to Natasha.
“I know that you don’t judge people based on past mistakes, no matter how bad they were.”
There’s a pause, the air thick with the weight of the moment.
Your voice softens, and the sincerity in your words is palpable as you add, “And I know you’re a good person. You’ve already proven that to me. More than once.”
Natasha’s throat tightens, and she swallows lightly, clearly moved by your words though she tries to hide it.
Her gaze lingers on you a second longer, searching your expression for any trace of doubt or insincerity.
“Careful,” she finally says, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, her voice teasing but softer now. “You’re starting to sound like a fan.”
You roll your eyes, though your chuckle is warm, the tension between you lightening for just a moment.
“I think I might see the appeal,” you tease back, flashing her a smile.
Natasha’s lips quirk upward, her eyes softening briefly before she returns her attention to the computer. Her fingers fly over the keys, a determined focus settling back over her as she works.
After a few more moments, she inhales sharply.
“I’ve got it,” she says, looking up at you with a triumphant glint in her eyes. “I can deactivate the device.”
You step closer, leaning over her shoulder to peer at the screen. The proximity makes the air between you feel charged, your breath warm against her neck.
"Great. Let’s finish this."
Natasha presses a few final keys, initiating the deactivation sequence.
Widow, who had been lounging nearby, suddenly stiffens and stands. The cat lets out a disgruntled meow, glaring at both of you with wide, accusing eyes before biting at the side of her body in irritation.
“So…it’s done?” you ask, your voice laced with relief but still tentative as you straighten and take a step back.
Natasha nods, glancing at the system.
“The bomb’s deactivated,” she confirms. “But we should still take her back to the Compound, just to make sure everything’s clear.”
Before Natasha can say more, a sudden alert flashes on the screen.
Furrowing her brows, she analyzes the information, her heart sinking as she realizes the deactivation triggered something else—another similar device has been activated.
Her fingers flies across the keys as she searches for more information.
The location of the system for this other device appears to be hidden somewhere else instead of here, so there nothing she can do to deactivate it.
But she does end up finding some details and specifications about the device.
Her eyes scan the screen before widening in alarm once she sees who the device is implanted in.
Your name is listed at the bottom of the screen.
Before she can react, Natasha feels a sharp prick on the side of her neck. She recoils away and turns around, her hand flying to the spot.
Her eyes meet yours in confusion before drifting to the tranquilizer in your hand.
You flinch guiltily at her accusing stare.
“That makes it six,” you say softly with a sad sigh.
Natasha frowns in realization as her body becomes almost instantly numb, and she stumbles back against the desk, trying to support herself up.
Widow runs toward her, meowing in concern, her paw raising to grip Natasha’s arm.
But Natasha doesn’t pay attention to the small creature, her focus entirely on you.
“Why?” Natasha grits out.
“I told you—one more job,” you say, your voice filled with remorse. “And I can’t have you interfering.”
You give her a regretful expression.
“Unfortunately, I do need to use you one last time.”
Natasha feels the last of her energy escaping as her legs collapse from under her, and she falls to the ground, her eyelids feeling heavier to keep open.
You crouch down beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her face with a tenderness that cuts deeper than any wound.
Widow hops down from the desk and lands in space between the two of you, her cries growing louder in panic as she looks between you and Natasha in confusion.
Natasha feels the soft paws pushing insistently against her as her vision darkens, her body going limp as the last of her strength fades.
Widow’s concerned cries grow distant as the world around her slips away. The last thing she hears before she loses consciousness is your voice, soft and filled with regret.
“I’m sorry.”
And then, there’s only darkness.
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
a/n: thanks for reading!
If you asked to be tagged and I missed it, please let me know again.
Taglist : @cd-4848, @carifletchersgirl, @skittlebum, @queen-of-chaotic-surprises, @ima-gi--na-tion, @rainix13, @gay4hotmilfs, @imaginexred, @caramelcat123, @2silverchain, @nowthisisliving27
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harrycinnamonbun · 2 months ago
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“a form of charles.”
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labyrinthhofmymind · 1 month ago
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“Harry, you are so loved. So loved. Harry, Mama loves you. Dada loves you. Harry be safe. Be strong.”
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biscuitrule · 1 month ago
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Stroud is trying to kill me on Christmas as usual
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plasticl0ve · 1 year ago
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IM FKN SOBBING
You held Maeve for another minute or two until her cries subsided into choked sniffles and tearful sighs. “It’s okay,” you would repeat, “I love you so much”, hoping that it might reassure your daughter until she removed her head from your shoulder, wiped her tears away, and through hiccups, said, “You are strong, you are capable, you are loved.”
This bit got me so bad 😭
—NOT STRONG ENOUGH.
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pairing: leah williamson x fem!reader
synopsis: you spend a few days in london with your daughter as you and your wife leah are filing for divorce.
word count: 3.5k
a/n: i don't even want kids why am i getting attached to this nonexistent child
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“Mama!!” The sweet sound of your baby’s voice filled your ears the moment you stepped through the door.
You had been dragging your suitcase along the walkway, but dropped it by the door to catch the little girl and lift her into your arms.
“Hi, baby!” You exclaimed and shook her side-to-side. “Oh, I missed you so much!”
“I missed you too, Mama,” she giggled and writhed her way out of your kisses on the cheek. “I drew a picture for you with your new trophy!”
Without protest, the five-year-old thrust a piece of A4 paper in your face. You let out a quick laugh when you make out the figure in the middle—you—surrounded by bats and the Gotham logo with a golden trophy in your hand.
It was your first season at NY/NJ Gotham, and you managed to win the NWSL Championship for the first time for your club. Instead of returning to New York after the final to celebrate with your teammates, you hopped on the first flight back to London. You needed to see your little girl; after months of constant competitive matches, you were able to finally make time to fly back home.
“You did! Wow, Maevey, this is amazing! You drew this?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Wow, wow, wow. We’ll have to hang this up by the fridge, right?”
You walked into the kitchen with your daughter in your arms, heading towards the fridge behind the island. You were aware of your wife’s presence in the room by the oven but focused on balancing Maeve in one arm and hanging her drawing on the fridge with the other instead.
“There we go. That looks so good,” you cooed at her. “Thanks, Maevey!”
“You’re welcome, Mama.”
When you set the girl down, like lightning, she was on her feet sprinting towards the living room, no doubt grabbing a toy she had left somewhere on the ground. “Hey, no running, remember?” You called behind her and shook your head.
You glanced back at your wife, who, whilst stirring a pasty white batter in a clear bowl, still hadn’t made the effort to return your gaze.
“Congrats on the Championship,” she said without looking at you.
“Thanks.” And that was the extent of your conversation.
The house you once called home was cold when you left it, now it was even colder. The only warmth left came from a single tiny candle that managed you the smallest relief, and it was Maeve.
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“Mama?”
“Yes, bub?”
“Why don’t you sleep in your room anymore? With Mummy?”
You had dreaded the question that had just come out of your daughter’s lips right after you tucked her in. Maeve was a smart kid, and you knew she would have been able to put two and two together when she saw you unpacking your suitcase in the guest room.
“Well, kiddo,” you started, brushing the stray hairs away from Maeve’s eyes. She looked so much like Leah when she pouted. “Mummy’s not too happy with me right now. So I’m giving her some space.”
“Is it because of me?” She said quietly, making your heart squeeze.
“No, of course not. Of course not, bub. How about you go to sleep now, and we will talk about this some other time, hm?” You poked her cheek gently. “Whatever happens, your Mummy and I will never stop loving you, and we will always do what’s best for you, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good.” You leaned over the edge of the bed to kiss your little girl on the forehead. “Now, remember what I always say? ‘You are strong, you are capable, you are loved.’”
“‘I am strong, I am capable, I am loved.’” Maeve repeated your words, almost immediately as you said them.
It was a mantra you repeated to yourself when your doubts started to get in the way of your potential, ever since you were a young girl making your debut for Arsenal until now. Those were the words you echoed to Leah when she had done her ACL, and when she wasn’t strong enough to chase away the clouds one day.
“I’m strong,” Leah had just managed to say through the tears, “I’m capable, I’m loved.”
“That’s right,” you whispered and smiled softly. “Now go to sleep, or I’ll sell all your toys.”
This elicited a giggle from the girl, as you turned off the lights. Making your way back to the guest room, you noticed the light in the living room was on downstairs. The tranquility you felt after spending time reading and talking with your daughter made you feel brave to face Leah, brave that whatever interaction you would have with her would not end in screaming and arguing. The woman was sitting on the couch, scrolling on her phone, a match played on the TV, as it always was.
“Maevey seems used to sleeping on her own now,” you said, smiling to yourself. “Soon enough she’ll be off to college.”
The best you got out of her was a short smile, and you would take it at that point. Your last conversation wasn’t the friendliest, and you had hoped Maeve wasn’t aware.
“She cried for you the night you left,” Leah spoke. “Slept in our bed for two weeks.”
Maybe it was the fact that Leah’s head was pressed against the side of the couch—the way she used to do every time you two had enough time off to sit down on the couch—or the fact that she still referred to the master bedroom as both yours and hers, that made your heart squeeze. For a moment it felt as if you had your family back, and things would eventually go back to the way it was.
“Only two?” You scoffed but smiled.
“Y/N, you know this isn’t a long-term solution. Maeve needs you. You can’t just fuck off to America and come back to visit for a few days every few months.”
“I know,” you said, clenching your jaw. “My agent’s looking at options within Europe. Germany, maybe.”
“Why not in England?”
“That is if any club wants me,” you shrugged. “Frankfurt seems interested, so.”
You’d like to think there would always be a place for you at Arsenal. Growing up, while your peers had posters of Mia Hamm, Kristine Lilly, or Abby Wambach on their walls, you were looking eastwards to the likes of Rachel Yankey and Kelly Smith for inspiration. Your heart was red, white and North London and it broke into pieces the day you had to leave—not because of your performance, but because by then London had started becoming too suffocating. And if you were going to be a good parent to Maeve, you had to put the oxygen mask on yourself first.
“I do want to be close to Maeve,” you said, more to yourself.
Leah hummed. A moment later, she opened the drawer next to the couch and pulled out a thin folder. Placing it on the cushion between you and her, she made the decision to leave the living room to go upstairs.
The respondent line on the first page awaited your name and signature. Hers was already printed on the line above that, the ink was already dry like she had made this decision long ago. You were frozen to the seat with the divorce papers in your hands, and that night you cried yourself to sleep.
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You took Maeve to the park the next day. You had extended an invitation to Leah, but she declined, saying she had errands to run. Maeve wanted to go to the playground in the park, so you packed the two of you a small picnic, and a football, in case she was up for a kick-about.
She was telling you about a goal she scored at school the previous Friday when you returned home. Upon entering the two-story house, you heard laughter coming from the kitchen. As much as you wanted to listen to your daughter recount her story, your ears focused in on the conversation and what sounded like two female voices, and laughter . . . Leah’s laugh, something you haven’t heard in a long while. You regretted that that was the case.
“Mummy! I played at the park today, and I scored so many goals against Mama!”
“Is that right?” Leah gasped and picked up Maeve in her arms. “Looks like Mama’s got some competition in the striker position.”
“Hi, Auntie Lia,” Maeve said to the other woman in the room.
You barely managed a smile as you watched your former teammate greet your daughter, trying not to freak out at the fact that she was standing much too close to your wife when you first came in. You couldn’t help the uneasy feeling that harbored in the pit of your stomach seeing it, and, as selfish as it sounded, you couldn’t stomach the thought that Leah might have started to move on.
“Hi, Y/N. It’s good to see you again,” Lia smiled at you.
“Long time no see,” you said.
“Come on, little one. Will you show me how you scored those goals at school?” The Swiss woman extended a hand to Maeve and led her to the backyard.
“Don’t,” Leah said as soon as your daughter was out of sight.
“Don’t what?”
“I know you’re giving me that look.”
“I’m not giving you any looks, Leah,” you smiled sadly, and unpacked your daypack, putting the dirty Tupperware containers into the dishwasher.
“Lia’s been a great help with Maeve. Without her, I don’t think I would have been able to get through the first few months.” Her tone had a slight edge to it, but you understood why.
“I know,” you replied, “I’m not saying anything.”
“That’s the fucking problem, Y/N. You never say anything you’re thinking! You make me do this fucking guessing game with you, and you don’t even bother defending yourself when I assumed the worst about you, and you run away! Do you truly just not give a shit about anything?”
You took a sharp exhale, checking to see if Maeve was looking. Through the sliding door, you could see that wasn’t, she was playing 1v1 against Lia instead.
“Please, Leah. Not now,” you sighed. “I’ll sign the papers, alright? And then I’ll be out of your hair.”
You didn’t see because your back was turned to her, but your wife shook her head, causing a few tears that had collected in the corner of her eyes to fall. Then, you heard her storming past you out to the backyard.
“I do give a shit,” you mumbled to yourself. You did, so much, but maybe your family was better off without you. Watching Maeve kicking her ball into the little goal you got her whilst your wife and Lia pretended to defend her, you wondered if maybe they really were better off.
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Your relationship was never perfect. She was Leah, and you were you. You used to love the routine you two shared until it turned sour and you would arrive to training in separate cars. You didn’t know when your marriage crumbled, just that when you looked back to assess the damage, it was already beyond repair. Leah telling you one night that she wished to separate was your wake-up call.
You had seen your friends and colleagues date and break up, and pretend that being in the same room afterward wasn’t the most torturous thing they’d ever had to endure. You never imagined that it would be your turn, and how much it hurt. How does someone be a human being whilst going through a divorce, and be a good parent at the same time?
“Mama, why are you crying?”
You quickly turned away and wiped at your eyes when you heard the tiny voice coming from your bedroom door. You must not have shut it properly. Maeve was standing in front of the door in her adorable dinosaur pajamas, and her favorite plush toy beneath her one arm. You would have given your entire world for that adorable punk right then.
“It’s okay, kiddo. I’m just a bit sad. What are still you doing up?” You gestured for her to come inside. Normally, Maeve would not hesitate to jump into your lap right away, but instead, she climbed onto the bed, and sat next to you like an adult.
“Why are you sad, Mama?” She said quietly, fiddling with her stuffed animal, her round eyes looking up at you with concern. “Everyone is sad.”
“What do you mean, bub?”
“Mummy is sad too. She was crying before you came home,” Maeve said, her bottom lip quivering. “She said it was because she missed you.”
The revelation left you speechless.
Your daughter turned to you. “Should I be sad too? Everyone is so sad.”
“No, baby, come here.” As soon as you pulled her into your lap, she started crying.
“Oh, baby. My little Maevey,” you hated that you made your little girl so upset, arms wrapped around your neck and broken sobs raking from her chest against yours. “Sometimes, people argue, and it’s very sad when they do, but it’s all a part of life, Maevey. Me and Mummy are arguing, but it has never been about you.”
“But I don’t want you and Mummy to argue anymore.”
“I know, baby,” you had nothing else to say that might offer her some comfort. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been around as much. It was my fault, nothing to do with you.”
You held Maeve for another minute or two until her cries subsided into choked sniffles and tearful sighs. “It’s okay,” you would repeat, “I love you so much”, hoping that it might reassure your daughter until she removed her head from your shoulder, wiped her tears away, and through hiccups, said, “You are strong, you are capable, you are loved.”
Letting out the smallest sob, you nodded and pulled her back into your chest. Your little girl, your heir, your legacy, only five years of age, yet she understood the significance of those words. You had won trophies and championships, but nothing compared to the burst of joy in your heart having her echo them back to you. It meant you meant something to her. It meant you were doing something right.
The next morning, after you and Leah had seen Maeve off to kindergarten, you gently placed the divorce papers that Leah had given you a couple of nights ago on the table opposite her. As you sat down by the dining table opposite her, you saw the way she eyed the files like you had just handed her a pack of poison and expected her to swallow it.
“I’ll agree to everything you bring to the table, within reason of course. This needn’t be a whole ruckus for Maeve. Whatever you want,” you started, darting your eyes up to Leah.
She continued to stare at the divorce papers on the table but kept silent.
“But . . . If you still have even just a tiny drop of affection left for me, I’m asking you—begging you—to reconsider this and give me another chance.” You took a deep breath. “This year away from you, from Maeve, made me realize that you two are the most important thing in my life. You make me a better person by just giving me grace and being who you are. And I failed you, I know. I’ve not been the wife and partner you needed, but if you give me one more chance to right my wrongs, I’d give everything to have my family back. I’ll go to therapy, we can go to couples counseling together, whatever you want, just please . . . please give me one more chance to make this right.”
Leah shook her head quietly when you looked up, but then she sunk her head into her palm and you heard a shaky exhale.
“I’ve tried so hard since March to move on from you, eight months since then, and just from one of your little speeches, I’m back to square one,” she laughed bitterly, wiping her eyes of salty tears. “You always give me false hope that it’ll get better, and I hate you for that, because it never does.”
You swallowed and moved to kneel in front of her. Your hands were shaking, but you reached for her hands.
“I know that. I know I’ve been apathetic before. I lost sight of what’s important. I used football as my excuse, and I did it. I won the championship, but there’s still this void in my heart that no trophy can fill,” you squeezed her hand with both of yours. “Please, Lee. I love you, and I need you back in my life. I’m so sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you and Maeve, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it. If you’ll let me.”
By then, Leah didn’t bother hiding her sobs. Tears were flowing down the curves of her cheeks like waterfalls, as she leaned forward into your touch, clutching your hands like they might save her. You cursed under your breath. Watching your wife fall apart at the seams when she had been ice-cold with you the past few days broke your heart to pieces, as you pressed soft kisses to her wet cheek and whispered loving words in her ear.
“Okay,” she said quietly and sniffled.
“Yeah?” You smiled hopefully.
Leah nodded tearfully. “Please. This is the last time, Y/N.”
You knew that. You knew if you fucked this up you would lose everything, Maeve might never have a relationship with you again, and you lose the one person that keeps you grounded.
Maybe Leah would be much happier with someone else, someone who treated her well and could fill the co-parenting role for Maeve. You were sure there were others out there who fit the bill, but you were selfish, and you would fight for them because this was your family, your home, your love.
“I’ll tell my agent to work on the move. I’ll try looking in England again, Frankfurt will be the worst-case scenario. Even if the only option is to resign at Gotham, I’ll make it work. I’ll fly home more often, I’ll help you with—”
You were cut off with Leah pressing her lips against yours desperately. You couldn’t restrain the grin that made its way onto your face, as you kissed your wife back.
“God, I got you to talk and now you wouldn’t shut up,” she mumbled, which made you laugh.
“Well, get used to it,” you said. “I’m gonna tell you how much I love you every day, and I’ve got eight months to make up for too, so it’s a lot of talking.”
“How about you show me how much you love me, huh? Actions speak louder than words, right?”
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epilogue. A month later.
A blaring alarm awoke you from your warm slumber. It was a Sunday, and you had forgotten you had the alarm switched on. You felt Leah stir next to you, and the corner of your mouth pulled up.
“Christ, what time is it?” She asked, her voice low and cracking. You’d always adored the way her voice becomes raspy in the morning.
“Eight,” you said, combing your fingers through her hair. Leaning in to plant a kiss on your cheeks, you whispered. “We have to get Maeve ready for football.”
“Hmm,” you heard her sigh, and snuggle deeper into your chest. “Five more minutes.”
Your wife opened one eye and grinned. You thanked the Heavens that she granted you another chance.
“Okay,” you kissed her head, “five more minutes.”
Just as soon as you lay back down, and Leah had gotten comfortable again, you heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet, the speed and agility of which you could only attribute to a five-year-old whose enthusiasm for football might be a little too much at 8 o’clock in the morning.
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bellaxgiornata · 1 year ago
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Me: *changing toddler's clothes*
Son: You're so pretty and kind, mama.
Me: 🥺🥺🥺🥺 OMG PRECIOUS CHILD, THANK YOU ANGEL BABY ❤️
[Later when I see my husband]
Me, still emotional at the thought: You know what our son said to me? He said I was pretty and kind 😭😭
Husband: Aww buddy, mama is pretty and kind isn't she?
Son: That was a joke.
Me:
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plasticl0ve · 11 months ago
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I KEEP FORGETTING IVE READ THESE BEFORE AND GO INTO IT COMPLETELY BLIND LMFAO
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favorite crime
natasha romanoff x reader
summary: she wanted to sign the accords, you didn’t, and you didn’t see another way out
warnings: angst, some swearing
a/n: i know i originally said no pt 2 but i'm reconsidering (the reason i'm reposting is because i had an idea for a pt 2)
🚩 warnings are clearly stated please do not report/flag :) 🚩
words: 1.5k | feedback is always welcome | masterlist
divider source | gif source
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“For the record, this is what making things worse looks like,” She gripped your arm as you walked down the long hallway. “Try not to break anything while we fix this.”
She threw you a hard look and you turned your body to Steve, looking down and playing with the silver ring around your ring finger. Your heard the people around you exchanging remarks, but you couldn’t take your mind off the way Natasha looked at you.
You looked back down at the simple silver ring on your finger, thinking back to when Natasha gave it to you. 
“It’s more discreet, so people know you’re taken even when you’re working.” 
You thought it was adorable and it gave you something to fidget with on long trips during missions, and it always brought you comfort when you were away. But now it just felt like a weight dragging your body down. Steve bumped your arm, making you look up at his sympathetic smile.
“She’ll come around,” He said. You bit the inside of your lip, turning your attention back down to your hands. You and Natasha hadn’t been able to have a conversation without fighting ever since the accords were brought up. You didn’t want to sign it, she did.
The accords weaved themselves into every conversation you tried having. And you ended up passive aggressively yelling at each other every time before one of you hurt the other’s feelings, the only civil conversation you’d had ended in you lying through your teeth.
“I’m not gonna make you sign it,” She chuckled, running her hands through your hair when you were lying in bed before going to sleep. “But if you don’t sign it, what are you gonna do?”
“I’ll retire,” You said, she scoffed and you looked up at her. You didn’t want to lie, but every other time they were brought up, the two of you ended up in a fight. As much as you didn’t want to. Part of you thinks it’s because you knew they were the start of the end. “What?”
“Really?” You turned on your stomach, leaning up on your elbows and looking at her face, your eyes moving over her lips, her delicate nose, then the arch of her eyebrow. She cupped your cheek, tilting her head and letting a soft smile appear on her face. 
“Nat, we’re getting married,” You twirled the diamond ring on your finger, something you had gotten used to doing ever since she put it on your finger. You finally looked into her eyes. “It’s probably time for one of us to start settling down.”
You were pulled from your thoughts as you started being ushered into a glass office, but before you reached the door, your arm was pulled back by Natasha who led you to a different office, one with more privacy and only one glass wall.
“I told you not to do this,” She said leaning both her hands on the table as you sat on the swivel chair across from her, resting your hands on the table and slouching on the chair. You avoided her eyes as you continued to spin the ring on your finger, you legs starting to bounce up and down. She sighed, trying to control her voice. “Not even a day after the accor-”
“You knew I was never gonna sign th-”
“This isn’t about signing the accords,” She interrupted you, her voice harsh and cold. “It’s about letting things cool down for a couple of days.”
“I wasn’t the one who bombed the conference,” You said, your tone mirroring hers as you sat up and looked her in the eyes.
“No, you were just the person helping him get away with it.”
“It wasn’t him,” You said as she sighed turning to the glass wall, making sure no one was paying attention. “And if you listened to me for one goddamn second, you would know that.”
“And if you hadn’t committed an international crime, maybe I would.”
“Look who’s talking,” You scoffed, looking back down at your hand, your attention returning to the ring on your finger. “As if you haven’t committed several crimes.”
“I never said I hadn’t,” Her fingers rubbed her temples as she pulled a chair up to the table across from you. “But I’ve changed since then, I know better now.”
“Really? It doesn’t seem like it,” You said, refusing to look away from her. Her eyes were locked onto yours. You felt the knot rise up in your throat, feeling your chest tighten with her harsh look on you.  
“Look what we became,” You mumbled out voice breaking and running your hands through your hair. Natasha took a deep breath, looking through the glass wall to see if anyone was looking and taking the time away from your eyes to wipe the tear that had escaped. You sat back, fumbling with the ring on your finger which made another wave of dread rip through you. You loved Natasha and it felt like your heart was being torn out of your chest by letting this get between the two of you.
“Is this what it’s gonna be from now on? Walking on eggshells all the time? And what happens if I do something, are you gonna arrest me?”
“No, I’m not gonna arrest you-” 
“Then what the hell is this?” You mumbled to yourself, but made her pause her sentence, giving you a sharp look. 
“Someone will. And this is an office, Y/N, it’s a hell of a lot better than a cell,” Her eyes were cold and her tone was harsh, it tightened the knot in your throat and you had to swallow hard to keep yourself from breaking apart in front of her. “And what if I’m not there to clean up the mess you make?”
“You’re the one that signed those accords-“
“You’re the one that said you were gonna retire.”
“Then I guess you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.” You raised your voice, trying to keep it from breaking. She fought back the tears threatening her composure, it broke your heart. She probably knew you better than you knew yourself.
She was silent as you returned to playing with the ring on your finger, refusing to look at her. Her eyes however, locked back onto on you.
“Where do we go from here?” Her voice was controlled, her eyes also trained on the way you started taking your engagement ring on and off as you were deep in thought.
“You tell me, Natasha,” You looked back up at her, her green eyes burning holes into your skin.
“I want you to sign the accords,” You rolled your eyes, leaning back onto the chair and looking at the wall.  “Please, for me.”
You scoffed, shaking your head. “I know when SHIELD fell, you took a hit-”
“This isn’t about SHIELD.”
“But it is,” She sighed an exasperated sigh as you looked into her eyes.
“I don’t want to be someone you resent,” She said, your eyes making their way back to looking at her. “I already signed the accords, if you signed it, it would solve the problem.”
“You made that decision on your own Natasha,” You said, barely above your breath but loud enough for Natasha to hear. She stopped herself, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “It used to be different between us, it used to be ‘if you were going down, I’m going down with you,’ but now-”
“It’s still like that,” She said, but you suddenly stood off your chair.
“No it’s not,” You raised you voice again. “Ever since you decided to sign the accords, it turned into you against me. I’m not gonna stop, Nat, am I just gonna be a criminal to you now?”
She was silent, and when you blinked, tears escaped out of the corners of your eyes. “There’s only one way to solve this problem now.”
You didn’t want her to have to watch over you for the rest of your lives. You didn’t want to have to keep things from her, and you didn’t want her not to trust you. You were able to read her like the back of your hand just a few days ago and now she felt like a stranger.
“What are you saying?” She asked, hoping you didn’t mean what she thought you did. “Are you gonna sign the accords?”
Your lip quivered as you swallowed the knot in your throat and rolled the thin silver band across the table towards her. The rolling sound of metal on wood echoing around the room. Your vision blurred and you flinched when she slammed her hand onto the ring and dragged it off the table.
Her face hardened and her jaw squared. She walked out of the room as you fell back into your chair, looking up at the ceiling and trying to keep your tears at bay. 
Natasha clutched your ring as she made her way back to the main room, her eyes focusing on Bucky’s video feed, but the sound being drowned out by the ringing in her ears. Her arms crossed around her body as she attempted to keep herself from falling apart. But the look on your face as you refused to meet her eyes was frozen in her mind. 
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honeypleasejustkillme · 2 years ago
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i’m trying my hardest to not act how i feel
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artistactorathens · 5 months ago
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Hey idk if this is common knowledge in the DBD fandom and I’m just late to the party but I thought I’d share anyway: the song that plays behind the montage of Charles and Edwin in the attic is Under The Milky Way by The Church
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plasticl0ve · 2 years ago
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bye I’m actually dead ☠️
do NOT look at me rn I’m crYING
From the Beginning
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Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader/OFC
Prompt Request: Anonymous - 16: Did you enjoy it? Making a fool out of me. - 19: You broke my heart. 
Notes: This was an incredibly hard challenge with these dialogue prompts and a happy ending LOL I hope you like it (this is probably as about as happy as it can get).
Warnings: mentions of past abusive relationships.
Count: 5585
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷
There was something off about your girlfriend, but you couldn’t be sure of what it was. You had been dating Natasha for almost a year now, and everything had been as good as you could expect it.
You guys definitely had some rough patches here and there, but that was because you had been through some really shitty relationships. You’ve been used, manipulated, and cheated on before, so you were a little cautious when dating. 
You had met Natasha at the police station when you were filing a restraining order against your ex because he would seriously not leave you alone and has taken to standing outside your house at all hours. 
It was freaking you out, thus the restraining order.
Just as you had just finished the application, the door opened to the station, and in came your ex with a black eye and a couple scratches. Behind him was a drop-dead gorgeous redhead. She was chewing gum, scowling at your ex.
A policeman came up to her to get the details and was cuffing your ex before you could even say anything.
The redhead looked over at you and raised her brow. “You’re the girl that he kept trailing.”
Still shocked, you nodded dumbly. The police were telling you that he caught dealing some drugs and started a fight with the redhead over there. He was most likely going to do some time and asked if you wanted to file a restraining order still.
The redhead cut in, saying you still should. She was leaving after, and you turned your head to the officer and asked him to file it before running off to chase after her.
She was surprised when you stopped her and asked if you could at least buy her coffee for, in a way, saving you. 
It was a long shot. You could see her being the distant type, but to your surprise, she said yes. 
Keep reading
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zouisalmightie · 22 days ago
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i feel like all i ever do is complain about my job like there are some parts i really love about teaching but then some days i want to run and nosedive out the window
#anyways i’m going to complain in the tags so it’s easy to ignore#like#ugh!!!!#my district does not mandate any special curriculum like as long as you’re teaching to the standards it’s fine#my school paid for a textbook that is bad. it’s been bad. I have been complaining about the textbook for 6 years now and no one listens cuz#they don’t care about history and also my admin don’t know how to teach so they think a book with scripted lines and imbedded tests are good#cuz they think it’s less work and it kinda is but the book is BAD not up to date doesn’t give nuance#there’s a chapter on how thanksgiving was a good day and it was how the pilgrims said thanks and has nothing about the murder or#brutalization of the indigenous people. there’s like a chapter on slavery that’s like ‘Africans came on boats to help work the fields 😁’#and so i follow the timeline of the textbook i take excerpts from it and then I supplement the rest make it into a power point#give the students think questions for each section it’s rigorous but not too hard cuz most of my kids are below 8th reading comprehension#levels and ny admin come in and and are like why aren’t you using the book I’ve told you why I don’t but here is what I’m doing#well the kids aren’t discussing. today isn’t a discussion day today is a lecture day wed is discussion day after I give the facts#well they need to discuss everyday. well they don’t cuz they can’t discuss what they haven’t read yet. if they don’t know about the war how#can they discuss the war? like it’s a multi step process#but they want today im not doing my job cuz im not doing it how they went to one seminar and that presenter said is a new way to tech#never mind I have students that come back to me from high school like wow I miss your class I learned so much etc etc#like my kids learn everyday. the work is engaging every single day#LEAVE ME ALONE AND LET ME TEACH!! ive been doing this for almost 10 years i fucking got this#raaaaaaahhhh aaaahhhh gaaaaah kill stab bite murder murder violence!!!
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dreamsandconstellations · 11 months ago
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The Ides of March (Taylor’s Version)
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