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just-aake · 25 days

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Detecting Love

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A person with the power to detect lies meets the spy who has been trained to lie her entire life.

Warnings: fluff, light angst

Words: 6169

You have the power to detect lies.

Now, it’s not exactly strong enough to be a hero, but you can honestly say that it has been useful in your life.

Sure, it gets annoying at times, but one of the many lessons you’ve learned is to ignore minor instances of dishonesty — white lies or small things like that — since it helps reduce unnecessary confusion or chaos with others.

People lie. That is an undeniable fact of life.

And while one may believe that being able to detect such things is great, the truth is there are times when you find yourself resenting your power.

Because, of course, everyone experiences moments when they wish that someone important to them isn't lying.

Like when your fiancée tells you she loves you.

There wasn’t really a malicious reason behind why a usually affectionate statement suddenly became so hurtful.

There was no cheating.

There was no fighting.

It was just another one of the many lessons you’ve learned in life.

That sometimes…a truth can also become a lie.

It’s just unfortunate that this lesson happened to you in such a way.

These kinds of moments make you wonder if maybe it’s better that people shouldn’t always know when someone is lying to them.

Then they don’t end up alone, drinking at a bar late into the night, trying to numb the pain of a broken heart.

You let out a heavy sigh as you stare at the pair of rings resting on the bar top, remembering the conversation that ended with one of them being returned to you.

It was a heart-wrenching discussion where your fiancée confessed her steadily changed feelings for you, leading to the resolution to remain friends.

And while neither of you is completely at fault for why things ended, you can’t help but blame your stupid power for putting you in the situation in the first place.

You sigh heavily once more before swiftly downing the glass the bartender had set in front of you.

At least your current attempt to drown your sorrow is going well, judging by how the rings start to blur in your vision.

With a sad sigh, you reach for the rings to put them away, but in your clumsy state, one slips from your grasp and tumbles to the floor.

Just as you move to retrieve it, a hand beats you to it.

Looking up, you find a red-haired stranger standing before you, offering the ring to you with a charming smile.

She looks familiar but the drunken haze in your brain makes it hard for you to remember where you’ve seen her before.

“Here, you dropped this,” she says, her voice low and smooth.

She’s beautiful and her voice sounds perfect. You think to yourself as you take the ring from her.

She chuckles lightly, “Thanks.”

Oh, did you say that out loud? You must be more drunk than you thought.

The woman offers her hand to you in greeting, and with a confident smirk, she introduces herself.

“My name’s Natalie. Natalie Rushman.”

Immediately, a red aura surrounds her, causing you to roll your eyes and return your attention back to the bar.

“Liar,” you mutter tiredly as you gesture to the bartender to close your tab, not really in the mood to deal with any more lies tonight.

At the corner of your eyes, you see the stranger give you a slightly impressed look.

Ready to leave, you stand up quickly from your seat.

However, the action makes the room suddenly spin in your vision, causing you to stagger backward.

A hand steadies you, resting gently on your back, and you unconsciously lean back against her surprisingly strong frame for support.

There’s a soft chuckle near your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Let me try again,” she whispers smoothly, guiding you upright and turning you around to face her.

Offering her hand once more, she reintroduces herself.

“My name’s Natasha Romanoff. I’m here to recruit you to work for the Avengers.”

You blink slowly, trying to comprehend her words through your drunken haze. You wonder if the alcohol is affecting you more than you thought when no red aura appears this time at her words.

Chuckling to yourself, you shake your head in disbelief, unfortunately worsening the pounding in your skull.

Work for the Avengers? That has to be a lie.

Before you can think about it any further, you feel yourself falling once more, unable to remain upright.

Strong arms catch you, and as your consciousness fades, you see a blurry glimpse of her striking green eyes before succumbing to darkness.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

You wake to the pounding in your head and the bright sunlight streaming through your window. Turning away, you groan into your pillow, remembering that your fiancée – your ex-fiancée – would typically close the curtains before leaving for work.

Now that she’s gone, you’re going to have to adjust to living alone once again.

A cup being placed on the nightstand startles you into sitting up, as you turn in surprise to find the beautiful red-haired stranger beside your bed.

“For your headache,” she explains, placing some medicine next to the cup.

Your mouth hangs open as you struggle to remember the events of last night, some of which are honestly a blur.

You examine yourself, checking your clothes and finding them unchanged from the previous night, and then you scan your surroundings again and realize in relief that nothing was out of place.

Well, except for the presence of this stranger in your home, who’s patiently waiting for you to gather yourself.

Searching through your drunken memories, you think you vaguely remember meeting her last night. She had mentioned her name was — Nata…?

“Natalie?” you ask with uncertainty.

At her raised brow, you quickly apologize, feeling bad for not remembering correctly.

“I’m sorry, I can’t seem to remember, but did we…did something happen between us last night?” you ask hesitantly.

Her face twists in genuine sadness and disappointment, causing a panic to run through you as you struggle to recall what could’ve possibly happened between the two of you for her to have such an expression.

“I’m hurt,” she finally says, placing a hand on her chest, “And after you even said that it was the best night of your life.”

Seeing the familiar red aura appear around her at her words, you let out a brief sigh of relief before realization sets in, and you give her a hard glare.

“You’re lying.”

Her hurt expression quickly morphs into an impressed look, and you are slightly startled at how effortlessly she was able to shift her emotions.

The woman straightens her posture and crosses her arms, adopting a commanding stance that seems more likely her typical demeanor.

“So it’s not just luck,” she remarks, studying you curiously.

At her words, you quickly rise from your bed in confusion.

However, the action causes you to wince in pain at the pounding in your head.

Shutting your eyes tightly, you hold your head in comfort and lean lightly on the nightstand for support.

As you do, your hand brushes against yesterday’s newspaper that you had been reading moments before your ex said those fateful three words that led to the heartbreaking conversation between the two of you.

When the pain subsides, you slowly open your eyes, catching a glimpse of the front page before doing a double take.

The front features an article about the opening of the new Avenger Compound, including a photo capturing the Avenger members posed in front of the completed building.

What catches you off guard is the uncanny resemblance between one of the Avengers in the picture and the woman standing before you.

Pointing at her in disbelief, you stammer.

“You’re…,” then, gesturing at the newspaper, you continue, “…her?”

She doesn’t respond to your question but instead nods toward your other room, inviting you to follow.

“Let’s talk,” she says, heading toward your door, then gestures at the medicine on your nightstand. “But drink those first.”

After freshening up in your bathroom, you take a moment to stare at your reflection in the mirror, noticing the remnants of last night’s tears in your slightly puffy, red eyes.

Sighing, you brush away the depressing thoughts of your failed relationship before taking the medicine and exiting your room.

You are greeted by the sight of your unexpected guest comfortably seated at your kitchen counter, flipping through a magazine with casual disinterest.

“You’re Black Widow,” you say confidently this time, positioning yourself on the opposite side of her.

She closes the magazine with a snap, placing it on the table before clasping her hands atop of it and meeting your gaze.

“It’s actually Natasha,” she corrects you, before nodding at you. “And you’re Y/n L/n.”

“How did you…?”

She holds up a wedding invitation draft, displaying you and your fiancée’s names printed in fine lettering.

Realizing that she must have been snooping around your things, you give her a disapproving glare, snatching the card from her hand and hastily stuffing it into a drawer.

Feeling a mixture of emotions—irritated, sad, hungover—you turn to the fridge, deciding to make breakfast to give yourself some focus.

After you retrieve the eggs and other ingredients, you heat the stove before glancing at Natasha briefly, asking, “So, what does an Avenger want from me?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see her resting her head against her hand, watching you with interest.

“I told you yesterday,” she replies.

You roll your eyes, giving her a deadpan look, knowing she’s aware that you don’t remember.

“Remind me again.”

Natasha gives you an amused smirk, straightening up in her seat.

“Alright, I’m here to recruit you, more specifically for a sort of managerial position at the new Avenger Compound.”

Furrowing your brows, you question, “Why me? I don't have experience with that sort of thing.”

“But you can tell when someone is lying, can’t you?”

Pausing briefly in your cooking, you contemplate her words and its possible implications. Not many people know about your ability, and you don’t think you did anything to reveal it to the spy who’s currently staring expectantly at you.

So, in response, you shrug, replying as casually as possible.

“I guess you could say I’m good at reading people…psychology degree and all.”

A silence ensues, broken only by the sizzling of your cooking, until Natasha finally nods, seemingly accepting your explanation.

You breathe a silent sigh of relief, returning your attention to your current task.

But then she pulls out a folder filled with documents and places it on the counter, causing your nerves to rise again.

“Well, you’ve helped solve hundreds of cases with your interviews of the suspects,” she remarks casually, flipping through the folder before glancing up at you through her lashes.

“100% accuracy rate in the information that you provided to the detectives,” she continues, nodding at you in acknowledgment. “For a part-time profiler, that’s impressive.”

“Thanks,” you respond with a polite smile, but beneath the surface, a hint of suspicion creeps in as you begin plating the meal you made.

Natasha closes the folder with a definitive snap, making you look at her.

“You could say it’s almost impossible,” she muses, before a confident smirk forms on her face, and she tilts her head at you with a raised brow in challenge.

“Unless there’s some way you can guarantee that they’re telling the truth.”

Honestly, you should’ve known better than to think that the experienced spy hadn’t already completed thorough research and investigations into you and your powers before meeting with you.

If anything, this was likely just a test for her to confirm what she already knows about your abilities.

Sliding a plate across the counter to Natasha with a pointed glare, you relent, deciding there’s no point in denying it anymore.

“Fine, what do you know?”

Instead of responding, Natasha’s gaze lingers on the plate before her, a hint of confusion in her expression.

Her plate holds a fluffy omelette accompanied by a side of crispy bacon and a slice of golden-brown toasted bread.

As she glances back up at you with a questioning look in her eyes, you take a seat across from her, setting down a similar plate in front of you before also placing a stack of fluffy pancakes at the center.

“What’s this?” she asks, gesturing to the meal.

“Breakfast,” you reply bluntly, taking a bite from your plate.

Natasha raises a brow at you, remarking plainly, “It’s noon.”

“Brunch then,” you correct with a roll of your eyes.

Natasha's lips quirk up in amusement, and she shakes her head.

“Thanks, but I’ve already eaten.”

The red aura appears around her, and with your mouth full of food, you give her a pointed glare.

“Right,” Natasha says in realization, remembering what you can do. She pulls the plate closer to her with a soft thanks.

The atmosphere that followed was unusual but surprisingly not awkward. Despite being practically strangers, you find yourself slightly comforted by Natasha’s presence.

If she wasn’t here, you probably wouldn’t have dragged yourself out of bed today after what happened yesterday.

After a moment of eating, Natasha breaks the silence.

“So, how can you tell when someone’s lying?”

Pausing to contemplate your answer, you wipe your mouth with a napkin before responding.

“Well, when someone lies, there’s always this rush of chemicals that happens in their bodies,” you explain. “It ends up causing the typical indicators — things like fidgeting, sweating, or tone changes in their voice.”

“I didn’t do any of that, yet you still knew I was lying,” Natasha points out.

“No, you're right,” you admit, nodding. “You’re a perfect liar.”

From what you have seen so far, every expression and comment of hers appears genuine and honest, and if it was anyone else, they’d probably believe anything she says.

However, thanks to your ability, you know better.

Gesturing at her, you clarify, “You still give off the same chemical reactions though, and I have the ability to see that.”

Natasha leans back in her seat, crossing her arms as she processes your explanation.

“It’s mainly visual then,” she concludes before asking curiously. “You don’t even need to hear what they said to know that they’re lying?”

You nod, ruefully adding, “Yep, my world’s just filled with people glowing red at random.”

“And how long does this ‘glow’ stay around them?”

“Depends,” you reply with a shrug. “Usually not long, maybe a few seconds.”

Natasha hums in interest, tapping her chin, her brows pinching lightly in thought.

You can’t help but smile amusedly at the sight.

For a person who has such an intimidating reputation, the spy in front of you right now looks kind of cute rather than scary.

After a moment, you break the silence this time.

“So, what’s the job?”

Natasha’s eyes focus back on you at your question.

“Nothing too complicated,” she assures. “You’ll be in charge of interviewing the new employee candidates and conducting continuous reviews of the current ones.”

“You mean like screening them?” you ask, tilting your head in confusion, already aware of the rigorous and difficult process required to work at the Avengers buildings.

“Don’t you guys already do extensive background checks before hiring people? Why do you suddenly need me?”

At your question, a charming smile appears on her face, effortlessly shifting her expression like before, though now you understand she’s just hiding her true feelings about the situation.

“That’s confidential.”

You scoff in disbelief and cross your arms.

“You do know that just makes it harder to trust you, right?”

Natasha mirrors your posture, her pretty grin still in place, masking any other emotions.

“Fair point,” she admits. “But to be honest, you should never put your trust in people like me anyway.”

“People like you?”

“Spies,” Natasha clarifies as she begins to gather her empty plate and utensils. “Which is one of the types of people you’d be looking out for in this position. Their deception skills would be on a similar level to mine.”

You chuckle at that, causing Natasha to pause in her actions, raising a brow at you in question.

“Sorry, but everyone lies, whether you’re a spy or not,” you tell her, standing and taking the empty plate from her with a small smirk. “You’re just slightly better at it.”

A tiny offended look slips through Natasha’s expression at your little jab, her brow furrowing for a brief second.

Your grin widens at the sight of seeing a glimpse of her real self as you turn to place the dirty dishes in the sink.

Natasha quickly regains her composure, moving around the counter to lean back against the table next to you.

“In any case, the decision is still yours. I’ve already confirmed your abilities. It’s up to you to decide if you want to accept.”

At her words, you pause to consider your options.

A new job working with the Avengers is a great opportunity, but it would be a significant change in your life.

Then again, you’re already facing a huge change.

Your eyes unconsciously drift to the drawer next to where Natasha is leaning, where the wedding invitation draft remains, and your face twists in sadness at the memory.

You guess it wouldn’t hurt to add a career change alongside your new relationship status.

At least this way you can still earn a salary while also distracting yourself from the depressing thoughts of your failed engagement.

“Okay,” you decide, meeting Natasha’s gaze with a sigh, “I’ll take the job.”

“Great, I knew you would be agreeable,” Natasha remarks, extending her hand to you.

A red aura appears around her, causing you to huff and roll your eyes.

You take her hand in yours, giving her a tiny glare.

“Liar.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“I don’t remember agreeing to this.”

You say that as you dodge another swing from Natasha, ducking under her arm to get behind her, only for her to twist her body around and deliver a kick that you narrowly block with your arms.

Still, the impact has you stumbling back.

“Really?” Natasha asks with an innocent tone as she circles you. “I thought I mentioned to you that training was a part of your employment.”

A red aura begins to appear around her, but you don’t have time to comment before she swings her leg at you again.

You catch it against your side with a small grunt of pain.

Having been a profiler for criminal cases before, you do have basic defense training, and you always believed that you could hold your own against most aggressors.

At least you used to.

This current fight is making you reconsider your skills.

With her off-balance position, you attempt to throw her to the ground, but Natasha swiftly regains her footing, catching herself on her hands and executing a fluid movement to flip upright. She then bends low, sweeping your legs out from under you.

You land on the mat with a groan, feeling the impact reverberate through your body. Another pained breath escapes you as Natasha expertly pins you down.

You catch the faint red aura fading from her before throwing your head back against the mat with an exhausted sigh.

“You’re such a liar,” you breathe out, your voice tinged with both exhaustion and playful accusation. Closing your eyes, you take a moment to catch your breath.

Natasha's laughter fills the air, resonating above you, her amusement infectious and drawing a small grin from you. You peek open your eyes, watching as she disengages from atop you and heads over to her water bottle at the side.

“I’m a spy. It comes with the job,” she says casually, taking a sip.

“Okay, and I’m basically just HR,” you counter, pulling yourself upright into a sitting position. “So how does combat training fit into that?”

Natasha gestures towards you with a sweep of her hand.

“You need to be prepared to defend yourself if you ever expose someone dangerous and find yourself without backup,” she explains.

“That’s unlikely considering I haven’t even encountered anyone suspicious since I started,” you remark with a sigh.

It's been a month already, and you're starting to question if your presence here is even necessary.

Before you can dwell further on your thoughts, the cold touch of a metal water bottle against your cheek startles you.

Recoiling, you look up to see Natasha holding it out to you.

Raising a brow, Natasha waves the bottle lightly in offer.

You snatch the bottle from her with a tiny glare, but she only smirks in response.

Apart from the new job, the other surprising addition to your life is your budding friendship with the Avenger.

After the whole recruiting ordeal, you honestly expected to only have passing encounters with her at the compound.

However, to your surprise, on your first day here, Natasha was the one who volunteered to give you a tour of the place, and in the days that followed, the two of you would often share coffee and chat before you had to head off to your respective jobs.

Those regular interactions with her also earned you a fearsome reputation among the other workers, which actually works out in your favor since they’re already nervous by the time you call them in for a review. This way they are more likely to slip up and reveal anything they may be hiding.

But, like you said, you haven’t found anything substantial yet.

With a heavy sigh, you pull your knees to your chest, resting your forehead against them, feeling the weight of failure bearing down on you.

Then you hear Natasha plop down beside you.

“Back when we met, you asked me why we needed you,” she begins.

Curious at her words, you turn your head slightly to glance at her, waiting for her explanation.

Natasha leans back on her hands, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as she continues to speak.

“A couple of months ago, our surveillance revealed that someone within the compound staff was plotting an attack during the opening ceremony of the new building. However, we couldn’t confirm who it was without risking exposing that we knew of their plan."

Your eyes widen in confusion at the revelation. From what you remember, the opening ceremony was a success. There hadn’t been any news of an attack that day.

“But you caught them, right?” you inquire.

“No,” Natasha responds, shaking her head before meeting your gaze. “You did.”

Surprised, you straighten up, giving her a questioning look.

Natasha offers a small smile, elaborating, “You had recently interviewed him as a suspect for another case, and in your notes, you labeled him as dangerous and untrustworthy, despite everything about him proving otherwise.”

“And you believed me?” you ask incredulously.

Natasha shrugs, “Well, I had no other leads at the time anyway.”

You scoff in exasperation at her teasing, playfully pushing her away.

She chuckles softly before adopting a more serious expression.

“Trust in your abilities, Y/n,” Natasha says with a genuine tone. “If it’s you, not finding anyone suspicious is a good thing.”

You watch her closely, waiting for the red aura to appear.

But as a couple of seconds pass and nothing changes, you tuck your forehead back against your knees, this time to hide the smile threatening to spread across your face.

“Alright, break’s over,” Natasha announces, giving your back an encouraging pat. “Let’s go again.”

You groan in reluctance, remaining in your curled-up position.

“Come on,” Natasha urges, her tone coaxing. “I’ll go easy on you this time.”

You don’t even need to look up to know the red aura is surrounding her.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“What’s this?”

Natasha's voice draws your attention away from the task of pouring cooked popcorn into a bowl.

She's sitting on your sofa, examining a small, elegant card that you had accidentally left on the table.

Widening your eyes in realization of what she’s found, you hurry over to her, but her narrowed eyes tell you that she has already read the names on the card.

“She’s inviting you to her wedding?” Natasha exclaims, disbelief coloring her tone. “It’s only been a year since your breakup, and now she’s already getting married?!”

Sighing in disappointment, you had hoped to keep this information from Natasha, who developed a strong dislike for your ex after you shared the details of your breakup during one of your girls' nights.

Placing the bowl of popcorn on the table, you take the invitation from her hand and head to the kitchen, intending to tuck it away in a drawer.

As you slide it open, you catch the sight of the old wedding draft buried at the bottom, which causes a tiny pang of sadness in your chest at the memory of that time, of how everything changed so suddenly.

You can't help but wonder how your life might have unfolded if your engagement hadn't ended.

Would you still have accepted Natasha's offer if you hadn't been seeking a distraction from your failed relationship?

“You’re not thinking about going, are you?” Natasha's voice interrupts your thoughts.

Glancing up, you notice a peculiar look in her eyes, though it quickly shifts to a neutral expression at your gaze.

After a whole year of spending time together, you could tell underneath her impassive expression that she was upset about something; though, you figured it was just outrage at the situation.

Tossing the invitation into the drawer and shutting it, you offer her a small reassuring smile before returning to your seat beside her to start the movie.

“No, of course not,” you tell her.

As the opening scenes play, you maintain a normal, nonchalant expression, aware of Natasha's gaze still lingering on you even as the red aura fades from around your body.

After a while, Natasha huffs in disbelief before finally settling into the sofa, pulling the bowl of popcorn into her lap.

“You better be sharing that, Romanoff,” you tease, your eyes fixed on the screen.

Natasha scoffs before tossing a piece of popcorn at you.

“Of course, I will.”

Just as you're about to turn your head to look at her and confirm her honesty, she swiftly shoves a cushion pillow to the side of your face, blocking your view.

After a few seconds, she releases it, fluffing the cushion casually before leaning her head against your shoulder and tossing another piece of popcorn into her mouth.

You chuckle at her antics, amused by her playful behavior, before returning your attention to the screen.

A few days later, you find yourself standing on the outskirts of the wedding area, observing as servers and workers hustle to complete the finishing touches.

A sad, bittersweet expression tugs at your lips as you recognize familiar details chosen by your ex, mingled with hints of a stranger’s preferences in the decorations.

To be honest, you don’t intend to stay for the wedding. You're just here to confirm something for yourself.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes, conjuring your ex’s face in your mind, and whisper to yourself.

“I’m in love with her…”

Opening your eyes, you exhale slowly, a content smile on your lips as you notice the red aura surrounding your skin. It's a relief to be able to find closure regarding your feelings for your ex.

“You know, I don’t need powers to know you were lying,” a voice remarks from behind.

Startled, you turn to find Natasha approaching.

She stops beside you, her gaze fixed at the scene ahead as she accuses, “Saying that you weren’t going to come here.”

You look at her briefly before returning your attention to the field.

“I got curious about something,” you admit. “Figured that this was one way to confirm it.”

Excited and happy chatter fills the air as your ex appears, surrounded by friends and family.

Suddenly, thoughts of what-ifs from the other night resurface, prompting you to ask out loud unconsciously before you can stop yourself.

“Do you think I should’ve just pretended that she was telling the truth at that time — when she said she loved me?” you ask Natasha. “Maybe it might’ve worked out between us if I just kept my mouth shut.”

There’s a beat of silence before Natasha finally responds, her tone tinged with wistfulness.

“From my experience,” she begins, “I can tell you that living a lie would not make you happy…no matter how much you wish for it to be true.”

You chuckle lightly, “You’re probably right.”

“Of course I am,” Natasha says confidently.

A comfortable silence falls between you as you both observe the preparations from a distance.

“She is a fool for letting you go, though,” Natasha suddenly adds, her tone casual.

You laugh softly, gently chiding her, “You can’t call the bride that on her wedding day.”

“Alright then,” Natasha concedes, turning to you. “You’re an even bigger fool for coming here by yourself.”

She returns her gaze to the field, muttering under her breath with a hint of irritation, “…still visiting the one who broke your heart.”

Amused, you tilt your head to catch her eyes, chuckling at her words, as you tease, “You know, it almost sounds like you’re jealous.”

When Natasha doesn’t respond or look at you, you raise a brow in surprise and poke her side.

“Wait, seriously, are you jealous?”

She swats your hand away.

“Stop that,” Natasha reprimands, before gritting out, “I’m not jealous!”

A small grin forms on your face as you notice the red aura appear, causing Natasha to roll her eyes and walk away.

“I’m leaving,” she declares firmly.

“Aww, come on, Natasha,” you call as you trail behind her.

Glancing back at you and seeing your pleased expression, she points at you in warning.

“That smile better be off your face by the time I pull up, or else you’re walking home,” she states before continuing on her way.

Watching her go with a fond smile, you find yourself softly repeating the words.

“I’m in love with her.”

Looking down, your smile widens when you don’t see the red aura appear, confirming what you already knew about your feelings for the red-haired spy.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

As you sit in your office at the Avenger compound, you feel a sense of fatigue wash over you at your busy schedule of back-to-back interviews.

Across from you, the final candidate squirms in her seat, clearly nervous under your scrutinizing gaze.

A chill sweeps through the room, courtesy of the cold blast of air from the AC, and you can't help but regret your decision to have it set so cold, a choice originally intended to maintain an intimidating atmosphere during interviews.

With a sigh, you reluctantly pull your hands from the cozy warmth of your hoodie pocket and turn to the next page of questions.

"Let's talk about handling confidential information," you begin, your voice cutting through the tension in the room. "Can you share a time when you had to ensure the secure handling of sensitive data?"

The candidate responds with some slight hesitation, but you sense it’s more from her nerves than any dishonesty, so you continue, moving on to the remaining questions.

Luckily, the rest of the interview goes by quickly and smoothly with her answering the other questions without any problems.

However, now comes the final question of the interview.

“Among the Avengers, who do you consider to be the hottest?”

Clearly caught off-guard, she stumbles over her words, “W-what?”

Maintaining your serious demeanor, you repeat the question.

“Who do you believe is the hottest Avenger?”

After a moment's pause, she softly answers, “Black Widow..."

Setting your clipboard down, you extend your hand.

"Thank you for coming. It was nice meeting you," you say, signaling the end of the interview.

As she thanks you and leaves, you flip to the last paper on your clipboard, revealing a sheet with tick marks beside the names of your Avenger friends.

With an amused smile, you add another mark at the end of Natasha’s already leading line.

“I don’t think that last question was approved by Steve,” a voice accuses from the doorway.

Glancing up, you see Natasha leaning against the frame, her arms folded.

You shrug in response, “Makes it more interesting though.”

Natasha hums curiously before moving to your side, perching on the edge of your desk. Her narrowed eyes fix on you.

“Is that my hoodie?” she asks in suspicion as she tugs at your sleeve.

“Maybe,” you reply, hastily pulling the hood over your head to conceal your guilty eyes.

Natasha had left the piece of clothing at your place after her last visit, and given the chilly room, borrowing it seemed harmless enough.

“Don’t you have a briefing to get to?” you deflect, attempting to change the subject.

Natasha huffs knowingly before responding, "I had some spare time, so I came to bother you."

"I’m honored," you quip sarcastically, though inwardly your heart warmed at the fact that she thought of you.

Natasha chuckles lightly, then gestures towards your clipboard.

"Ask me some questions," she prompts, her tone playful yet eager.

Deciding to indulge her, you reach for your clipboard and adopt a serious demeanor.

“Name?” you begin.

Natasha shoots you a deadpan look, prompting you to show her the document with the question written on it.

“If they lie about their name, then that’s a red flag already,” you defend, giving her a pointed look.

“Natalie,” you mock.

Natasha chuckles, shaking her head at the memory before extending her hand.

“It’s actually Natasha,” she corrects, playing along.

Skipping past the other general questions, you delve into more targeted inquiries related to threat assessment.

“Have you ever been associated with any extremist or radical groups or organizations?” you ask.

“If you consider working undercover to gain intel on them, then yes,” Natasha responds without hesitation.

“Have you ever participated or been involved in any violent behavior where someone was hurt?”

This one makes her pause for a moment before she finally admits softly, "…yes."

As the questioning continues, Natasha's playful demeanor gradually fades, replaced by a rueful tone.

By the time you reach the final question, she places her hand on your clipboard, gently setting it down on the desk.

"Maybe these questions aren’t meant for people like me," she says sadly, her tone filled with regret.

Observing her disappointed expression, you scoot closer and rest your hand on hers to draw her attention.

“Do you still want to hear my final assessment?” you ask gently.

After a contemplative pause, Natasha nods, curiosity evident in her eyes as she gestures for you to continue.

“Well, based on your answers,” you say with a dramatic pause, flipping through the papers before shaking your head firmly.

“Absolutely not. Extremely dangerous. Definitely a high-risk candidate.”

Natasha huffs in disbelief at your teasing and gives you a playful push. As your laughter subsides, you soften your tone, meeting her gaze sincerely.

“But…I’d trust you,” you admit genuinely.

Natasha's eyes widen slightly before she averts her gaze, clearing her throat. Her fingers toy with the clipboard, flipping to the last page and seeing the score sheet, before chuckling in amusement.

Turning back to you, she tilts her head with a raised brow.

“I don’t get the special question?” she asks.

You take the clipboard from her, offering a knowing look as you begin to organize the documents on your desk.

“I think we both already know your answer to that question,” you reply.

“Then ask me another,” Natasha insists.

Her request makes you pause as you ponder what to ask. Only one thing comes to mind, the question you’ve been hesitating to ask her for a long time.

Meeting her expectant gaze, you find yourself wanting to know the answer, despite the fear in your mind at the possibility of causing another big change in your life again.

Summoning your courage, you face her directly.

“Would you…,” you start, faltering momentarily before gathering yourself with a deep breath.

“...would you say ‘yes’ if I asked you out on a date tonight?”

There's a moment of silence, and just as you consider retracting the question, Natasha reaches out and adjusts the hood atop your head.

Perplexed by her action, you watch her suspiciously. Then, in one swift motion, she pulls the hood down over your eyes, obscuring your vision.

“No,” her voice responds to your question.

Hearing her stand, you quickly remove the hood to see Natasha already making her way out of the door, but before she disappears from your view, you catch the red aura surrounding her slowly fading away.

As an excited smile spreads across your face at the revelation of her true answer, your phone on the desk pings with a new message. Glancing at the screen, you see a text from Natasha.

I’ll pick you up tonight.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading! I know I said I was going to take a little break, but I had some time so I ended up finishing this and decided to post it now instead of later.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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woniverse-writes · 7 months

Note

Hey so I’ve been a huge fan of all your works with Bada and I was wondering if you could do a request for me with bada.

So reader is in BEBE and is born in 1997 which makes her the 2nd oldest in the group but she tends to be almost like the maknae ,always laughing (obviously very serious when it comes to dancing) smiling (not always acting cute it annoys me 🙃) and like how Bada, Lusher, Tatter, Kyma, Minha, Cheche, and Soweon always look at her in like adoration.

Obviously you can change it/interpret how you want too.

And I’m very sorry if it doesn’t make sense

Thanks ☺️

“Sweet Bebe”

bada lee x teammate!reader

summary: being one of the oldest members of your crew typically meant you were supposed to look out for the younger members, which you still do! except everyone seems to be looking out for you more due to your clumsy and energetic personality.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: the first 600-ish words have like- nothing to do with Bada and it's all backstory i'm so sorry lmao, i don't really like how this turned out but i hope you do, not proofread

Typically being one of the oldest members of any team or crew meant you had to carry some sort of authority or responsibility… that was not the case for Y/n. being the second oldest member of the dance crew Bebe, meant absolutely nothing to her on most days. She did happen to take on the motherly role a lot of the time, but more so in a fun, cutely caring for her members type of way. It was almost as if she took care of her members by letting them take care of her. The youngest teammates specifically liked to baby her, getting a kick out of their cute older sister.

Even before it had been decided that the crew would come together for Street Woman Fighter season 2, the girl had been just as lively and attentive to her friends, always making sure to have a positive energy and smile on her face when in the studio.

Y/n and Bada had known each other since the younger was in college. She had begun training under SM in her last year of middle school, focusing on becoming a vocalist at the time, but transitioned into focusing on dance in her second year of high school. Y/n was a part of SM Rookie and had almost debuted with Red Velvet at the same time as Yeri, but ultimately the company decided they only wanted to add one member and thought Yeri was a better fit. When she entered university, she stopped training to be an idol but decided to stick with dance, majoring in performance and choreography. By the time she was 19 she was already choreographing for some big groups.

Y/n’s first step into the kpop industry was when she worked with Lia Kim on Twice’s “TT”, coming up with the iconic hand gesture herself, but many don’t associate her with the dance since she wasn’t credited at first as a rookie choreographer. By the time she did receive credit, people already knew the choreography as solely Lia Kim’s. But the younger girl wasn’t phased, seeing as she was invited back a little less than a year later to choreograph Twice’s “signal” all by herself.

The young choreographer began to gain even more recognition after working on “Likey”, coming up with three different versions of the dance break and eventually posting all three to her social media accounts. She continued working with Twice and choreographed for “Heart Shaker”, “Candy Pop”, “What is Love”, “Dance the Night Away”, and “Yes or Yes. She secured a position as an in-house choreographer for JYP, specifically Twice at such a young age, and national and international supporters alike were impressed were her skills. What many people didn’t know was that she was invited to choreograph “Red Flavor” by Red Velvet and initially agreed, and choreographed the routine, but SM ended up not using her choreography. The poor girl was really starting to think they had some hidden agenda against her.

Y/n’s popularity was on a gradual upward incline and suddenly boomed when “Fancy” was released, seeing as the song was a turning point for the group. It was also the first time she took on a director position instead of just a choreographer. Y/n was offered the role of creative director on top of main choreographer. Things only continued to get better for her career after she produced the moves and creative brief for “breakthrough”, which caused people to realize the girl was capable of doing more than just cute dances. As soon as “Feel Special” was released, y/n was getting calls left and right, especially from SM.

They offered her the main choreographer position for Red Velvet’s next comeback, “Psycho”. She was skeptical at first due to their lackadaisical behavior when working with her but ultimately agreed since she had nothing else at the time. Y/n submitted her dance, expecting to not hear back after that and be left to assume they went with another choreographer. So when she got a phone call a couple of days later asking her if she’d be able to begin teaching the choreography the following day, the girl just about died on the spot. “Psycho” was released and everyone was OBSESSED with the choreography.

This was about the time when Bada and Y/n first met. At the end of 2019, SM was having its annual end-of-the-year celebration, inviting all of its artists and staff, including any choreographer who worked in-house or was brought in specifically at any point. Y/n originally intended on not going but ultimately decided she would after realizing it could be a good networking opportunity.

Y/n wasn’t cocky by any means, but she was confident. The girl was bubbly and charming, so naturally she attracted people, including Bada Lee. the tall dancer approached the younger girl and professionally introduced herself.

“You’re Y/n L/n, correct?” to which the younger smiled even wider and nodded enthusiastically. Bada couldn’t help but giggle at the girl’s bright energy, liking how it stuck out against the blandness that typically came with business parties.

“I really love your work. It’s so refreshing, and even your more mature choreographies have this energizing quality to them…” the tall dancer complimented and y/n could feel her face heat up, eyes widening, and mouth falling open. She stammered for a moment, overjoyed with the compliment.

“Thank you so much- I- you don’t understand how much that means to me. Truly, thank you.” her smile was so huge that Bada thought if it got any bigger the poor girl’s face would split open, but the older of the two was simply endeared. They stuck by each other’s sides practically the whole night after that… and they haven’t parted since.

“My sweet angel dearest… can you please sit down?” the Bebe leader jokingly requested as she and her teammates observed their second eldest member bouncing around the room at lightning speed. They all stifled giggles and wore smiles of adoration as they continued to watch Y/n smile and explore their new team space. The girls loved how energetic and bubbly she was, thinking of it as a strength since the rest of them were more chill and reserved. Having y/n around kept the team’s morale high, since she’s always the one to check up on everyone, always first to cheer someone up, and always making sure everyone is taken care of before and after they start practice.

“Unnie- you know I can’t just sit and do nothing while we wait. This is all too exciting!!” which caused Bada to just smile and shake her head. The leader loved all of her crew members but had a specific soft spot for Y/n seeing as she’d known her the longest out of all of the others (and the girl may or may not make her heart flutter).

The monitor lit up and an announcement popped up on the screen. The girls all made a noise of shock, and Y/n quickly ran to seat herself in the empty space left between Bada and Tatter

“Our baby” the blonde patted the older girl’s head endearingly, causing her to giggle

“Noooo, you’re MY baby, hmph” she retorted, wrapping her arms around the other and squeezing her gently while fake pouting. The screen told them they were now allowed to head down to the fight zone and Y/n sprung back up with a small noise of excitement. She and Bada were the first two to lead the group down, the older one smiling softly at her slightly younger teammate who looked around with wide sparkly eyes. Once they were in the center of the dance floor a video began playing.

“Their team was just formed within the last year…they can’t have very good chemistry”

“People only know Bada and Y/n”

“Bada is more popular than her talents”

“Y/n won’t be able to keep up… she’s a good choreographer but she’s too soft for a competition like this” Y/n laughed loudly at this one, not being able to take anyone seriously, especially Mina Myoung who found an issue with everyone. Bada on the other hand was far from amused. The leader glared at the screen until the video ended, then scoffed as she began heading over to their team’s designated seats.

“Unnie, don’t get so worked up- they’re obviously just trying to get a reaction and it’s clearly working, so don’t let them see it…” the second oldest gently comforted the leader with a hand on her shoulder. Y/n had taken her seat right next to Bada, which had become the usual for them. No matter where they went, whether it was just the two of them, all of team Bebe, or even them and some other people; Y/n always found her place next to Bada. Y/n and Bada had become practically inseparable since that night they met.

Bada grabbed the hand that was on her shoulder and gently began stroking the back of it with her thumb, and Y/n’s immediate response was to plop her head down as a replacement. The leader couldn’t help the chuckle that left her at the girl’s reaction, she could practically see her tail wagging if she had one. The other Bebe members loved to call Y/n “baby-unnie” or just “baby” because of how soft and cute she was, but they often called her “puppy” as well due to her energetic and bright personality. It was typically the younger members who called her this, but occasionally Bada would take part in the teasing, loving how flushed the girl’s face got when she specifically called her by those names.

The other crews arrived and of course, Bebe held up their chill, cool-girl image. Even y/n looked intimidating with how pretty she was and how relaxed her smile had become. After all the other videos were played, the teams changed into more relaxed clothing, preparing for the no-respect battles. When they returned the leaders of each crew handed out the ‘no-respect’ stickers to each dancer. While most of Bebe didn’t have any Bada and Y/n were the only two who did, with the leader having two and the second oldest having five.

“I still can’t believe you got that many votes…” Kyma mumbled in astonishment as she watched Lusher and Tatter place the stickers all over their member. Y/n just laughed and shrugged.

“They don’t think I can battle, that’s why- but it’s okay cuz now I get to show everyone how wrong they were…” she calmly and cooly explained, patting Kyma on the head as the other two members finished with the stickers. The battles began and the first dancer called was Redy from 1 Million.

Redy chose Bada as her no-respect dancer due to some personal issue that occurred between the two at some point. The younger dancer did put up a pretty good fight, but Bada was practically untouchable. Y/n was jumping up and down and screaming as loud as possible at her leader, the smile on her face almost painful at this point.

When Bada finished she cooly headed back over to her team and Y/n pounced on her, wrapping her arms around the older girl's neck. The leader laughed and loosely wrapped her arms around Y/n’s waist, the two staying like that for a few moments until the applause died down. Once it was time to announce the results, Bada headed back to the center while her crew waited patiently behind her. When the judges announced her as the winner of the battle, Y/n was jumping seven feet in the air, rushing to cling to Bada again.

A few more battles went by before Y/n was called for her first one, the challenger being Gooseul from Deep n Dap. The Bebe dancer was a bit shocked, not knowing much of her or the crew besides Mina Myoung. The battle started with the pink-haired dancer- she wasn’t bad, but still very obviously an amateur. Her 40 seconds went back and it was Y/n’s turn. “One Dance” by Drake started playing and the girl immediately got into the vibe. She sensually grooved to the rhythm and naturally hit every beat, creating a dynamic performance. Her facials were completely different than usual- eyes taking on the look of a siren instead of the angel Y/n usually appeared to be.

“Oh my god- her face totally changed…”

“I knew I was gonna regret picking her…”

“Bebe is really just a team full of dancers that know how to attract women-”

Bada smirked picking up all the little comments she was hearing from around the arena, but ultimately focusing on her girl tearing up the stage in front of her. The battle ended and as soon as she was done dancing, Y/n blinked and was back to her sweet self. Sparkly eyes and a bright smile taking over, the second-oldest Bebe member turned to her members who all embraced her in a giant hug, squeezing her and squishing her face, cooing and awing at her.

“Unnie- how dare you dance like that! You’re just a baby!” Minah joked while holding Y/n’s face in her hands, causing the rest of the team to laugh and tease her. The winner was announced, and when the judges all held up team Bebe’s blue card, the members stormed the stage and cheered on their member once again. When Y/n had to go over to Deep and Dap and place the loser plaque on their board, she made sure to thank Gooseul and shake her hand. She returned to her team and they all made sure to pat her on the head or shoulder, showing their final bits of appreciation for their baby-unnie.

“Isn’t Y/n one of the oldest?” JJ turned to Mina after watching Bebe act affectionately toward her.

“Yeah- it goes Bada then her then the others… why?” the DnD leader questioned.

“She just seems so young… and they all treat her like their baby- I would’ve guessed she was the maknae” the expressive girl seriously remarked in an entertaining matter, genuinely surprised at how old the other dancer actually was.

When Bada and Redlic faced against each other, Y/n was interested to see how it would turn out seeing as Redlic didn’t really seem to be on her game today. The second oldest Bebe member was used to the blonde being a pretty good dancer and decent at improv, so her performances today were really disappointing and confusing. Y/n lost interest after Redlic’s second spin around, but then got all up in Bada’s face putting her hands all over the tall dancer, getting more of a reaction out of her team member than her.

“What was that…” Y/n and Lusher were side-eyeing each other, not liking the interaction at all. the younger of the two being the only one to know about the leader’s and second oldest’s true feelings for each other, was a huge supporter of them- even though everyone else thought she was delusional.

“Unnie how are you not losing your shit right now…” Lusher mumbled, eyes trained on the blonde dancer still all up on Bada. when she didn’t get any response, the younger member looked over and was immediately shocked by the expression Y/n had. An icy glare and condescending smirk took over her features, hinting at the slightest bit of disgust. When Redlic’s turn was over Bada’s music started playing and her body immediately reacted to the beat. She walked around a bit to really get into it, turning to meet her teammates’ gazes briefly. She makes eye contact with Y/n, who has a very serious (and lowkey scary) expression

“Eat her up… or I’ll kill you” The other members struggled not to react to the out-of-character comment and keep up their hype, but Bada was completely unphased. While others only saw the refreshing side of Y/n, Bada got to experience just how serious and sometimes vicious the girl can get (especially when threatened). So instead of having an internal panic like the others, she just smirked slightly and continued to get in the groove.

Bada began dancing hitting every mark and beat, facials on point, and truly getting into the rhythm of the song. It was like the music was inside her with how easily she reacted. Her team’s screams and cheers carried her through the rest of the performance and the second her music ended she circled back around to her team, stopping at Y/n who stood with a satisfied smile. They all stood together as they awaited the results, the leader standing tall and relaxed with her arm draped over the second-oldest member’s shoulders. Y/n stood intimidatingly with her arms crossed, glaring at the other team until Bebe was once again announced as the winner. Her eyes quickly lit up and her smile returned, turning in Bada’s hold to wrap her arms around the older girl’s waist.

“I wasn’t worried at all, but I really hated watching her dance…” she mumbled into the leader’s chest, who just laughed loudly and patted her head before squeezing her tightly. Bada placed the loser plaque onto Mannequeen’s board and calmly strutted back over to her team. She took her place next to Y/n who leaned into her side with a pout, causing the older to roll her eyes and chuckle before wrapping her arm around the younger girl again.

“You’re never this pouty- what’s up?” the leader whispered gently, playing with the ends of the other girl’s hair

“I just don’t like watching people dance with you like that… it’s annoying” Y/n mumbled, still pouting with arms slightly crossed. Bada tried to stifle her laugh and avoid teasing her teammate, but she honestly couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

“Ayyyye… are you jealous?” the leader tried to tease and get a reaction out of her, hoping to see the younger dancer blush

“Yes! I didn’t like that…” Y/n admitted, not meeting the older girl’s eyes which were now boring into the side of her head. Bada tilted her head, a bit shocked at the statement and how open the younger was being. She was used to Y/n’s honesty, relying on it often, but the girl was never really open about her own feelings. She looked after the team with a gentle, motherly aura, allowing the girls to tease her and baby her in order to feel more relaxed. Y/n never seemed tired or upset when practices were harder than usual, so in all honesty, it was rare to see the girl in a mood like this. Bada knew the pout was mostly for show, but she could tell how serious Y/n was about being jealous.

“Don’t worry, you’re my only baby…” She squeezed her shoulder and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head before looking back toward the next set of dancers who were preparing to battle. Y/n’s eyes went slightly wide as she glanced over to the leader and her pout was broken after seeing the light blush on Bada’s face. She huffed out a soft laugh and snuggled back into the leader’s side, the rest of her team sitting behind them smiling with love and adoration at the two.

permanent taglist: @uwulyn @luvjanexx @randomhoex @1luvkarina

#bada lee #street woman fighter 2 #bada lee x reader #street woman fighter x reader #bada x reader #swf2 x reader #reqs for rosie

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 1 year

Text

Capitol Punishment IV

Haymitch x Reader

Summary: The Capitol continues to torture it’s victors no matter how long ago they won through punishment, exploitation, and worst of all; their relationships.

A story in which Haymitch’s lover is a plaything for the Capitol.

Warnings: Canon level violence, rape (though never explicit), alcohol, murder, systemic poverty, exploitation, rebellion (?), more reliance on movie than book, suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 3.9K

Part III | Masterlist | Part V

Your head rested on Haymitch’s lap as you stoically watched the girl from District 1, Glimmer, kill the girl from District 4.

As the careers began to walk away, Haymitch took the remote, shutting off the feed. “Hey!” you protested.

“You’ve seen enough— we’ve both seen enough,” he insisted. “Y/N we watch these games every year and have to endure seeing our kids get slaughtered. And you get upset every time.”

“But these kids have an actual shot at winning!” you insisted. Both were already adored by the Capitol and Peeta, being the son of a baker and having the strength to show it, resembled the careers more than previous District 12 tributes. As for Katniss, she was a hunter and a survivalist. If she could get her hands on the bow Glimmer was fumbling with, the odds of this game would drastically change. “You don’t need to protect me like I’m a child.”

“I’m just trying to protect you because I love you and it hurts me to see you hurt.”

You stopped, unable to respond to that. He was right, every year you invested in these kids and no matter what, whether they ignore your advice or not, the end up dead and it was taking its toll on you. A toll only Haymitch saw because you refused to show weakness to anyone who may hold power over you.

Before you could respond the elevator dinged open and Effie fluttered into the penthouse. “Haymitch! Y/N! Haymitch! Y/N!” she squawked. “Turn on the games!”

Annoyed yet confused, Haymitch complied. Your eyes widened as you saw what was happening. Katniss was running through a forest fire. You audibly gasped when you saw a fireball be launched at her, sending her to the side. You held on tightly to Haymitch’s sleeve as the fire continued to surround her, a projectile burning her at one point.

The gamemakers’ disaster didn’t end until she jumped into a small pool of water. Unfortunately for Katniss her relief didn’t last long before the careers spotted her. Glimmer was the first to spot her, pointing and shouting. The others began to shout after her, running towards Katniss with smiles as if they were hunting turkeys. Peeta followed after them, carrying a spear, looking reluctant.

Katniss looked exhausted but she made her way out of the pond, running into the forest until she found a big tree. You held your breath as she scaled the tree and the careers approached. Fortunately she was a couple feet up in the air by the time the careers reached her.

Cato, from District 2, began climbing the tree after her but broke a branch only a couple steps up. And by now Katniss had settled on a thick branch about 70 feet in the air. A camera locked in on Peeta’s face, showing his concern for his years long crush.

“I got this,” Glimmer declared, notching an arrow. Judging by the clumsiness of her movements she wasn’t very experienced with it. She aimed up at Katniss, releasing the arrow which missed her by a long shot.

“Why don’t you throw the sword,” she taunted, eliciting a laugh from Haymitch.

“Got any ideas, loverboy?” Cato snarled.

“Why don’t we just wait her out?” he suggested. “It’s either she comes down or starves to death.” The careers all looked surprised, as if a non-violent strategy had never occurred to them. Seeing as that was the only real viable option, they began to set up camp.

The camera turned up to Katniss who by now was settled on her branch, assessing her burn wound. You cringed at her pained expression as she tried to soothe the burn. “Haymitch she’s going to die of infection if she doesn’t get medicine.”

“I know,” he said, already standing up. “I’m going to kiss come Capitol ass.” You stood up with him but he quickly stopped you. “No, Y/N I love you but this will put you right in their palms.”

Grateful for Haymitch’s concern for you, you cupped his jaw gently, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“I’ll go with him,” Effie said, scrambling to the elevator with him.

Once they reached a viewing room for the sponsors Haymitch grabbed two glasses of champagne. Spotting a sponsor who was intently staring at the screen, and more importantly, not speaking to anyone else, he headed over. “She’s a tough one,” Haymitch caught the man’s attention. “Kind of ironic that the girl on fire got burned. Champagne?” he offered the peacock of a man.

With a smug look he took the glass. “Haymitch Abernathy, Katniss is yours right?” he asked, gesturing to the screen.

“Yeah she is. Gotta say it’s really nice to have two kids make it this far.”

“Ah right, loverboy is also yours,” the man chuckled. “Let me guess, you want medicine for Katniss.”

Haymitch smiled dryly. “Yes, she needs it. I’ve seen what your medicine can do and once she’s healed up, she’ll be back in the game stronger than ever.”

“Is she half as ruthless as Y/N L/N was?”

Inside Haymitch froze at the mention of your name but seeing as the man didn’t talk about you further, he pushed through it. “Half is a good estimate,” Haymitch laughed. “What I can tell you is that she’s a provider for her family and she’s got that sweet little sister she volunteered for back home. If anyone has a reason to get out of that arena, it’s her. She’s got no one else to take care of her family.”

The man thought for a second, nodding before reaching out his hand to Haymitch. “You’ve got a deal. 200 for the medicine and I’ll place a thousand on her to win.”

Haymitch grinned eagerly, shaking his hand too. “Thank you, I appreciate it.” Haymitch ensured that the man reached the betting/sponsor booth to get the medicine to Katniss before turning towards the elevator, intent on heading back to you.

“The Victor of District 12.” A hand clamped onto his shoulder along with the words stopped Haymitch in his tracks. He turned, finding a man with orange skin and bright red hair, grinning at him.

“Can I help you?” Haymitch asked as kindly as possible.

“I wanted to ask about Y/N L/N, the other District 12 victor.”

Haymitch tried to swallow his disgust. “What do you want to know?”

“Is she available anytime soon? A friend of mine got a taste of her, said she felt heavenly. I wanted to give it a try, take her for a spin, you know,” he laughed. “See if she’s tighter than Capitol girls.”

At that comment Haymitch couldn’t hold it in any longer. Seven years of watching you be used and abused were released in a single punch, sending the man to the ground. Before Haymitch could kill the redhead, peacekeepers were dragging him out of the room. “Keep her name out of your fucking mouth!” he yelled.

He was dragged off into a van and then had a bag placed over his head.

He wasn’t sure how far he went, only that he was manhandled out of the van until he was stood in a building. When they pulled the bag from his head he realized just how screwed he was.

“Hello, Haymitch,” President Snow smiled evilly.

“Y/N! Haymitch has been arrested!” Effie burst into the room.

“What?”

“He punched a man. Come on, we have to find him,” she said, tugging on your arm. You were surprised that she was so eager to help Haymitch but went along with her.

You rode the elevator down but as soon as the doors opened you were met with Peacekeepers. “Y/N L/N, please come with us.” Figuring they’d take you to Haymitch, you followed them, not screaming in protest for once.

You were placed in a luxurious car, Effie having been barred from coming with you. She was currently shrieking, demanding to know what was going on but you just ignored her, eager to get to Haymitch.

The car drove you a couple blocks down the street before you reached a very grand building. The President’s building. You were led inside and up the stairs to Snow’s office which you had only been in once before. The grand doors opened, revealing Haymitch kneeling on the ground, facing Snow with a gun pointed at him. “Y/N how nice of you to join us,” Snow welcomed.

You ignored him, lunging at Haymitch until a peacekeeper caught you around the waist. “Let him go,” you protested. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“He punched a man in the face. That’s punishable by death for the district citizens.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. “Please don’t, I’m begging you. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” a man with orange skin and bright red hair, stepped in from the side of the room. He had on a devilish and excited expression. Despite his fire spirit like appearance, you hadn’t noticed him. Too focused on Haymitch and Snow.

“Yes, anything,” you agreed. “If you want me you can have me. Please just let him go.”

“Y/N-”

“That’s not up for you to decide,” Snow cut Haymitch off. “Whatever punishment must be fitting for Mr. Abernathy’s crimes. Whether you take the punishment or he does. Mr. Summer, what do you think?”

“I think a whole night with Mr. Abernathy’s district partner would be fitting,” he said smugly, sporting a black eye.

“I’ll do it,” you eagerly agreed.

By now the gun has been put away and Haymitch was turned to face you. “Y/N you don’t have to.”

“No I’m not going to let you be killed. Especially when I only have to spend the night with someone. I’ve been doing that for the past seven years for nothing. Right now it’s actually worth something. Please let me do this for you,” you were begging.

Haymitch looked down nodding before looking up to meet your eyes again, trying to convey that he loved you. No matter how obvious your relationship may seem to those who watched you, you both had agreed to never utter your affections for each other in front of Capitol people.

The man who Haymitch had punched was now eagerly waiting by the door. “Go on Ms. L/N. You’re the one who made the deal.”

You once again looked at your lover, trying to convey your love for him before standing on shaky legs. Following the fire man out of the room.

Haymitch had been released by Snow almost immediately after you left. He was dragged through the building, into a car, and quite literally pushed out of said car when they arrived at the tributes building. He wanted to run back to the President’s building to find you but he knew how furious you’d be if he put his life in jeopardy again. So he swallowed his anger and stomped into the building and back up to the penthouse.

You didn’t return until noon the next day. When you entered your room Haymitch was passed out on the bed with two empty wine bottles. Whenever you were taken it was typical for Haymitch to drink himself into a coma but it was less common while you were in the Capitol. You immediately went to the bathroom, turning the water as hot as you could possibly stand, wanting to cleanse yourself of such a vile man. But even when you stepped out of the shower after a solid 10 minutes of scrubbing you still felt unclean. You had never been with someone that long.

You walked past Haymitch who was still passed out, probably for the night. You didn’t want to have to look into his eyes that you knew would be full of pity and anger. So you headed to the only person you knew would be able to help you. Getting onto the elevator you hit the number four, descending down into District 4’s floor.

Once the elevator opened you were greeted with a living room decorated exactly like yours 8 floors up. “Finnick,” you called, stepping in hesitantly. You felt weird just walking into someone else’s “home.”

“Yes?” you could hear Finnick’s confused voice call from another room. He appeared in a hallway a second late. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” he asked. You swallowed, feeling tears prick your eyes. Seeing your reaction, Finnick knew exactly what that meant. “Oh I’m so sorry,” he empathized. He came over, giving you a hug. At the first gentle, comforting touch you’ve felt all day, you broke down into sobs. He quietly tried to soothe you, leading you to the couch while you sobbed into his chest.

When your sobs finally subsided he spoke. “What happened?” he had comforted you many times over the years but you only ever cried like this when something new or exceptionally cruel happened for the first time.

“Hay-Haymitch got arrested,” you slowly choked out, “for punching a guy that said some things about me. Snow was gonna kill him. But instead I agreed to sleep with the guy so Haymitch would be let go. I spent over 12 hours with him, Finnick!” you cried.

“Oh Y/N,” he spoke gently, stroking a piece of hair behind your ear like parental figure. “I’m sorry that happened to the both of you. But hey, at least you have someone fighting in your corner… literally,” he laughed gently. You laughed with him, sniffling. “I’m sure you were scared for him but if I know anything about Haymitch, its that he loves you more than anything in the world and he’d much rather punch anyone in the face and die for you than allow you to be hurt. And if I know anything about you, its that you’d sleep with everyone in the Capitol before you let anyone hurt him. So just remember that you both have each other in your corners… and me of course.” You let out another laugh. “I’m surprised you’re down here. I’m sure Haymitch is terrified.”

You shook your head. “He’s passed out. Drank at least two wine bottles, probably more. That’s usually how he copes. I just wanted to talk to you then keep my mind off what happened,” you changed the subject. “What’s going on in the games?”

“Uh well Katniss killed the girl from District 1 by dropping a tracker jacker nest on the careers and now she has a bow. Cato, the kid from District 2, wounded Peeta. Last anyone saw he was disguising himself into the rocks by the river. And Katniss has formed an alliance with Rue, the girl from District 11.”

Your hope for Peeta was dying now. Like you feared for Katniss before, you knew his wound would get infected, especially since he was probably covered in dirt and mut in order to hide.

Finnick turned on the television so you could watch the games. Immediately it was on Katniss, perched just inside the clearing where the cornucopia was and where the careers had set up camp. Before you could even figure out what was happening she let an arrow fly, sending a bag of apples tumbling, triggering the mines you has watched the kid from District 3, Byte, use to protect the mountain of supplies. It all went up in one glorious blaze, sending Katniss flying back into the tree line. Fortunate seeing as the remaining careers all quickly returned, Cato breaking Byte’s neck. Well there goes Beetee’s bet, you thought to yourself. He had probably thought the same about you when Peeta was wounded.

The camera then shifted to little Rue who was running through the forest until she tripped, falling right into a trap. A net quickly fell down upon her, trapping her on the ground. “Katniss!” she yelled.

You felt your heart break at the sheer terror in her voice. You let out an audible breath when Katniss came running, quickly cutting the girl out of the rope. As she was checking up on the young girl, you could see the boy from District 1, Marvel, appear with a spear.

“Katniss,” Rue caught your tribute’s attention, pointing behind her at Marvel. Katniss quickly whirled around, notching an arrow and firing straight into his chest, killing him. Unfortunately it was too late after he released his spear, sending it into Rue’s abdomen.

You felt more tears well in your eyes as Rue fell, Katniss catching her. You could barely watch as Rue took her final breaths and again when Katniss buried her in flowers.

Finnick got up from beside you, immediately going to the bar cart. He poured two of some sort of cocktail, bringing one over for you. “My own creation,” he explained, handing it to you. You took it, realizing that it smelled and tasted like pure alcohol. Nevertheless you downed it. “Do you ever think of a world where there’s no games?” Finnick suddenly asked.

You shrugged. “I guess.”

“What about no Capitol?”

“Finnick…” you warned. You and he were the most closely watched Victors, neither of you could afford to think about stuff like that. Especially with Annie and Haymitch in your respective lives.

“There are rumors,” he continued. “Even some of the most powerful are done with this,” he gestured to the screen and the lavish wealth in the room.

“We can’t afford to be hopeful. Not with Haymitch and Annie.”

“Haymitch approached me.” You were taken aback. You had never heard of anything like that from him. “People tend to slip around him because of his alcoholism but he’s been approached about revolution.”

There it was… the dreaded yet long awaited r-word. You were about to get up and leave, not wanting to deal with the repercussions of this conversation, even if Haymitch was the one to initiate it with Finnick. As you were headed for the elevator a Seneca Crane’s voice came over a speaker. “Tributes, may I have your attention? A new tule has been instated. Two victors may be crowned so long as they come from the same District. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor.”

You immediately rushed up to your room, eager to find Haymitch but when you arrived there was no sign of him. Unsure of what to do and reluctant to leave the “safety” of the penthouse you decided to wait. You sat down on the couch, continuing to watch as Katniss finally found her district partner.

“Peeta!” she called in fright as she began to dig him up from his own handiwork. “Did you hear the announcement?”

“I did. We could go home,” he said optimistically.

“We could go home,” Katniss agreed, showing hope for the first time ever. The only ones left, except for the tributes from 2, were singles. As much as you wanted your tributes to finally come home you knew there were several issues. 1. Peeta was severely injured and would be holding Katniss back if anything. 2. Clove and Cato were both relatively healthy and you could see them rejoicing on another screen. 3. They’d have to somehow outsmart the girl from District 5 who was always lurking yet never came out to fight. And 4. After Rue you knew Katniss would never willingly kill Thresh.

The camera then changed to the District 2 tributes hiking through the forest, looking for either food or other tributes. You watched as they clumsily tried to kill a squirrel, both throwing blades at it. You knew Clove was an exceptional knife thrower but the squirrel was too small and quick for her to hit. Having never gone hungry a day in their lives they weren’t coping with the loss of their supply stash well.

The cameras moved to Thresh who had a decent assortment of plants stashed in his bag as well as a scythe. As for the girl from District 5 she was currently curled up near some rocks, decently hidden.

You had to admit that if Katniss and Peeta didn’t win you’d want it to be Thresh. From what Chaff had told Haymitch he was a good person who had looked out for the people in his district, including young Rue when they had been reaped. Similar to Katniss.

Katniss and Peeta had staggered into a cave setting up for the night, trying to figure out what to do next. “We’ll get you some medicine,” she said.

“I don’t get many parachutes,” Peeta protested.

“We’ll figure something out,” she promised. You could see the cogs turning in her head before she pressed a chaste kiss to Peeta’s cheek. You could practically hear the cheers erupting from the Capitol people who had become enthralled in the romance.

Seeing the relative state of calm the game makers had decided that not much would happen and they dimmed the lights, creating night.

Soon enough Haymitch was entering the room. “Did you hear?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he smiled, “and I made that happen.”

Your jaw slackened in shock. “What?” How did he get an audience with someone powerful enough to amend the rules? “How?”

“My incredible persuasion skills,” he teased, wrapping his arms around your waist. “We’re gonna bring them home.”

You wanted to cry you were so overwhelmed with emotion. “We’re gonna fight to bring them home,” you agreed. “Peeta needs medicine. The stuff we sent Katniss for her burn isn’t doing anything.”

“I know the sponsor booth is closed for tonight. We’ll go first thing in the morning.” He punctuated the sentence with a kiss to your forehead.

The games stayed on all night as Haymitch and you slept. The camera switched between District 2 and 12 since that was the closest thing they had to interesting content. You woke up the first time to the beeping of a parachute. “I thought the sponsors booth was closed,” you groggily asked an even more so groggy Haymitch.

“I managed to convince some people to get them something right before the booth closed. I don’t know why they’re just now sending it,” he explained, face still half pressed into the pillow.

“Do you know what they sent?” you asked, hoping for medicine so 12 would have a fighting chance.

“I don’t. Hopefully medicine,” your lover said as if reading your mind.

“It’s soup,” you answered, slightly disappointed as Katniss opened the container. “At least it’s something.” Haymitch pulled you down closer to him as he fell back asleep with his face pressed into the crook of your neck. You still watched through hazy eyes as Katniss fed Peeta the soup, kissing him occasionally. They’re going to have to make out if they want to get medicine you thought as you drifted off to sleep reluctantly.

The next time you were woken it was due to Haymitch shaking your shoulder vigorously.

“…feast at the cornucopia for something each of you need,” was all you heard before the typical Capitol sign off.

“What’s going on?” you asked, still reluctant to be awake.

“They’re gonna give them medicine.”

Part III | Masterlist | Part V

#haymitch #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy #thg #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #capitol punishment

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pigeonpeach · 4 months

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The Marionette’s Affections

Summary: Ballet dancer x sandrone! implied fem reader! This is rushed because I’m sleepy but i didn’t want this to rot in my drafts

You are a talented Ballet dancer, known for your grace and elegance. You move quickly but precisely. Each step is calculated carefully, you move as if every move is choreographed and been practiced for centuries. So when the Marionette sent a letter requesting you to be a model for her latest puppets you were quite confused. Your peers encouraged you accept, her temper is notorious. Although famous as you are, your fame will not shield you from the harbinger if she feels disgruntled.

Perhaps you shouldve just faked your death though. You were escorted to her workshop. Taken through winding hallways and doors, stairs and more until you stopped in a giant room. Its so neatly organized that its early. The walls hang the arms of ruin guards and puppets alike. Disembodied parts of all sort of puppets are displayed as you finally meet her. She sits in the palm of a puppet, her expression is cold as she seems already annoyed at how long you took.

“You finally arrived. I thought you had stood me up.” She says. You nervously apologize as you quickly prepare to dance. You change your shoes, binding them diligently and discarding yur jacket. The underling who escorted you is rudely told to leave.

You are used to stage fright, you are used to the eyes of thousands and thousands. You have performed before harbingers before. Pantalone being fond of your shows. Signora as well. But Sandrone’s stare is so intimidating. You take a deep breath as you go through the routine she asked you to perform. Without music it feels awkward. Your footsteps are louder than ever, echoing as she watches like a hawk. Her eyes never leave your legs. You know she’s just observing you. But she raises her hand signaling you to stop.

“You’re shaking.” She says. “Are you cold?” Her voice is no more polite than before. You nod and apologize. She snaps her fingers as another hulking puppet appears and scatters elsewhere. It comes back with a heater as it positions several around your impromptu stage. She then looks to you. “Better?” You nod then continue where you left off.

You can’t help but struggle a bit. In a theatre you only feel their presence and awareness. If a individual glares at you its easily lost in the moment and movements of the dance. But her gaze remains prominent. You play the music in your head to distract yourself. But suddenly you feel your foot slip as you collide with the ground. You hear the puppet she sits on come closer.

“You’re nervous. I can tell. Is there something menacing about me?” She asks. You stammer, trying to find some excuse to not offend her. “There’s no need to lie. I’ve never heard you were this clumsy. This floor is not slippery at all. I make sure of it so my puppets don’t skid.” She stands up as she walks to you. “I even wore my best dress today, I wanted to seem more pleasant.”

“Its just… your gaze is.. a bit much.” You say nervously. You hesitate to stand up as she looks down on you. “In a empty room with one person and no music.. its a bit jarring for me. I’ve never had audience with a harbinger like this before. Its not that you’re hideous or anything my lord its ju-“ she grabs your face and forces you to meet her eyes.

“You know, its hard not to.” She says. A slight smile graces her lips so slight that it hardly looks different from her normal expression. “Your movements are entrancing. I wonder if I could even capture them at all. Rigid metal and joints… your body truly is a beautiful sight.” Her words surprise you. Pink dusting your cheeks.

“W-what.” You say

“You have a nice body? Has no one told you such?” She says sternly. “From the top. And don’t disappoint me.” She sits back into the palm of her puppet as she adjusts her seat. You take a second to breathe, you stand up and dust yourself.

Your next dance is more successful. She doesn’t stop you midway through as you focus entirely on the movements and dance. You push all thoughts as you do your best. When you finish she responds with a resounding clap.

“Very good very good. I knew you could do it.” She says. Somehow that praise pulls a string in your head. You can’t help but be amazed at how genuine she seems now. “You’re dismissed for now. I’ll contact you soon for another appointment. But now I must get back to work.” You bow politely.

“Thank you miss.” You say, your heart racing. She seems pleased. You gather your things and change into your winter garb. The whole time she watches you.

“Hopefully I’ll have some free time soon. I’d like to see you perform. When is your next performance?” She says.

“O-oh. Next month there is a performance. The 12th.” You say trying to maintain your composure.

“Perfect. I’ll reserve that date for you.” She says with a smile.

#genshin imagines #genshin x y/n #genshin impact #sandrone #sandrone x reader #sandrone x you #mild yandere themes #wlw post #short fiction

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sp4cepunisher · 1 year

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content warning ; 18+. strong language + nsfw themes ahead [ top!ellie x bottom!reader. spit kink, a couple of brief mentions of choking, explicit depictions of both sexual arousal + sexual activity ] as well as inevitable annoying + messy tense shifts because i’m tired and i needed to get this all out on paper asap because it was tearing me apart and plaguing my fucking mind!!! minors dni.

. . .

ellie williams would never be the type to think of herself as particularly kinky. if ever asked to go into detail about her fantasies or her biggest turn-ons when she did the deed, she would always come out with something like, “eh. i dunno, dude. i’m pretty vanilla.” with like, either an unbothered shrug or a sheepish rub of her fingers against her forehead. because sure, she liked to be in control most of the time, she wasn’t going to deny that. and on the occasions where the girls that she had been with previously had ever asked her to maybe grab them a little harder than usual, or maybe even choke them then yeeeah she would do it for them, whatever. she didn’t like to disappoint. but she had never really been asked to do anything that had really tickled her fancy. not anything in particular that had stuck in her mind, anyway. and yeah, she thought that choking was kind of hot, and being able to get slightly more of an aggressive handful of a woman’s breast was never going to be something that she would refuse. like, she was fine with it, but it was nothing special.

but this mindset seemed to change once ellie started dating you. there was just something about you that made her want to fulfill your every desire. anything you asked for, she wanted to be able to supply for you, and as soon as possible. and especially so on this particular evening, when the brunette found herself leaning over your body which had made itself comfortable against her couch; head resting back against the pillows, knees bent and parted on either side of her body. the two of you had been at it for what seemed like aeons; breathing into each other’s mouths; whispering and smiling with clumsy and needy hips pushing into each other’s to evoke sighs of pleasure and whines of frustration; to feel anything. there was no doubt about it, ellie was obsessed with you, and the feelings were ssssoooo fucking mutual. you both knew that. it was obvious in everything the two of you did; the way you would walk down the street together, and couldn’t even last five minutes without one of you reaching out to grab at the other’s hand like it was life or death. how you couldn’t even be apart in the same vicinity, always having to find each other in order to regain the most meaningful sliver of reassurance – the foundation that the entirety of your relationship was built upon. even in sex, ellie never liked keeping her eyes closed for too long in case she missed a particularly beautiful way in which your lips would part, or your eyes would scrunch up. she loved being close to you; watching how you reacted to her, frame by frame. she would have done anything for you at any time of the day, but something totally foreign – something so otherworldly that it scared her a little bit – would take ahold of her every limb whenever she would be lucky enough to find her girlfriend pinned beneath her. so, the second that you found the right moment to pull away from the messy kiss that the two of you were sharing (and i mean messy. like, lips wet, teeth clunking together every time you kissed, and tongues swirling and sliding like they were getting paid for it) to whisper her name, which she always loved to hear because you would always say it sssooo nicely followed by six of the most unexpected words she had ever heard, ellie would brace herself in fear of something totally gargantuan seizing her in its entirety.

“ellie? will you spit in my mouth?”

and she would literally freeze for a second. you’d feel her do it, and for a moment you would be worried that the question that you had just asked had freaked her out. you hadn’t freaked her out, per say, but your request would have made the girl pause and think for a moment. she’d ponder on your words, replaying them in her head. did you really want her to spit in your mouth? or were you just messing around? like... her spit? from her mouth... into your mouth? wasn’t that like, really fucking disgusting? ellie couldn’t make her mind up for a little while, until her eyes refocused on yours and she would see the way in which they were twinkling; full of want, to the brim with fervour. from the looks of things, you really had meant what you had said. between the look in your eyes, the way your body was swelling and deflating with the heavy breaths that you were taking and the puffiness of your lips from yours and ellie’s prolonged makeout session, ellie had almost become unaware that every inch of her insides had just been doused in gasoline and teased with a flickering little flame that came – smashing through the doors of her brain with no word nor warning – in the form of the words that you had just said, as well as the look in your eyes. the question that sounded so innocent in tone; so breathy; so gentle; so pretty, coming from the dilated pupils; the glistening irises which lay right underneath her nose, but which were both so heavy – so succulent – with concupiscence. ellie hadn’t ever experienced a feeling like the one that had just mercilessly grabbed her around the neck in that singular moment and, as nothing but the feeling of arousal would flood her veins, she’d find that she was unable to hold the next sentence back from being her only reply.

“you filthy little slut, you want me to what?” she wasn’t even looking to hear you say it again. she had heard it the first time, loud and clear; it echoed in her ears, sullying the inside of her head with the dirtiest visuals imaginable. for someone who would have paid millions to own the world’s last known recording of your voice played on a loop, the last thing that ellie would have wanted in that moment would be to hear you say anything else. fuck, she didn’t need to hear another word. instead, she would better secure herself on her knees and flatten the palm of one of her hands against the back of the couch. “open your mouth, baby.” she’d mutter, curling a callused finger beneath your chin to help tilt your head back. and you would be unable to ignore the butterflies which would swarm your stomach at this simple little sentence, nor the way in which your clit would be pulsating from inside your underwear like of course it would have already been throbbing for the entirety of the time that ellie had been on top of you, the entirety of the time that own her clothed cunt had been pushing into yours, but this time it felt as though it had it’s own fucking heartbeat oh my fucking god. it excited you to see your girlfriend – who never failed to succeed in topping you; who was never slack when it came to making you cum, but who had never really been one for strongly expressing her kinks in the bedroom – acting on the spur of the moment. to watch as her eyes would trace your every feature as if she was about to lose them forever, her lips twisting together as she stimulated her salivary glands and the pad of her finger smoothing over the underside of your chin adoringly. you’d do as instructed, allowing your lips to part and your tongue to rest flat against your bottom set of teeth. despite still being fully clothed, not having yet even been touched by ellie’s hands, skin-to-skin, you;d feel exposed; vulnerable, but in the best way. and as for ellie, boy did she like seeing you like this. she often wondered whether you could look any prettier than you did when you first woke up; rubbing the sleep from your eyes. or when you would emerge from the bathroom; freshly showered, hair still wrapped up in a towel atop your head and your clothes uneven, pulled in all the wrong places and clinging messily to your damp body. before now, she wouldn’t have believed that anything could top the way you usually looked; before she had been given the opportunity to watch your eyes do all of the talking; the way they pleaded with her to give you what you so desperately craved. “fuck, you are so pretty.” she would whisper to you, before leaning her face further over yours and pushing a droplet of saliva from her mouth. it would dangle from the shelf of her bottom lip; a string of crystal d.n.a, the most priceless jewel you had ever laid eyes on. she noticed the way your body swelled with a deep breath again, and the way you leaned up, eager to catch the droplet before it had even fallen, watching as it teased you. the raw excitement was noticeably radiating from your every pore, and ellie wished she could tease you like this for hours on end. that was when, much to your annoyance and disappointment, she pulled it back; so effortlessly, as if it wasn’t going to affect you at all. “mmm, do you want it?” it would get her off to see you nod, but the girl – with all of this newfound confidence – wouldn’t hold back on continuing her cruel taunt. “fucking disgusting. such a slutty thing to ask for.” and when (and only when) she would be content with the amount of time she had forced you to wait, then she would push the dewdrop back out, holding it between her lips like she was dangling raw meat before a snapping crocodile. you were desperate for it; hips practically writhing around, lifting and lowering as if that was going to make any difference.

but, when fiiiinally the bead would finally fall – satisfying the air that it cut through like the first sign of rain in a month-long drought – ellie would wonder if the sight that came next was what heaven itself felt like. this was a religious experience, shit, it had to be. when it hit your tongue, you wouldn’t be able to hold back the sigh of relief that would leave you; the breathiest moan that you had let out all evening, the satisfaction evident in the hastiness in which you would pull your tongue back into your mouth and swallow your reward, as if someone was going to snatch it away if you were too slow. a sound of appreciation that the act would evoke from you would be music to ellie’s ears as she would watch in wonderment while you practically fucking drank her spit, licking over your lips as if to savour the taste of her completely; as if her saliva were ambrosia and you wanted to live forever. fuck fuck fuck i love the idea of this tooooo fucking much and i love that gorgeous freckly lesbian even fucking more.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams smut #THIS THOUGHT HAS BEEN IN MY HEAD ALL DAY I NEEDED TO GET IT OUT #ellie-drabbles

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loulouwrites · 1 year

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The Neighbour (2) . Alfie Solomons

warnings: angst, swearing, dv, peaky blinders stuff

sequel to The Neighbour

(if you like sad endings, like me, ignore this one)

(3377 words)

The shopkeeper smiled at the ten-year-old boy as he gathered the groceries in his arms, offering him a wave as he left the shop, the young boy being careful not to spill the glass bottle of milk that was buried in the crook of his arm. Thomas liked running errands for his parents, it made him feel important. He smiled at the women in the street, offering a nod to the men as he made his way home. He noticed how the mothers would look at him with a warm smile, wishing their children were as helpful as he was, it was well known that Thomas was a polite and useful child, when other children were running through the streets, joyful and carefree, Thomas was helping his mother with whatever she needed help with.

He weaved his way through the streets, the bread and milk secured in his arms, he couldn’t spill any, it would be a waste of money and his father didn’t like it when he wasted money. Thomas didn’t like his father that much, he was okay, he didn’t hurt him and he was gone for most of the day anyways, he could be alright sometimes-like when he helped Thomas with his schoolwork or taught him how to play cards- but Thomas didn’t like it when he shouted at his mum. His dad didn’t hit his mother, he just threw things sometimes, but it made his mum sad, and that made him sad.

Thomas had rounded the corner to his street when a man bumped into him, knocking the groceries out of his arms. The man didn’t stop, leaving Thomas stood there, looking at the ground, where the bottle had smashed against the pavement, the milk running onto the road. He stood there for a while, watching as the stream of milk grew, streaming along the road and into the drain.

“You okay there, Thomas?” the young boy looked up from the mess on the ground to see his neighbour looming over him.

“I’m fine, Mr Solomons,” Thomas sighed, kicking a shard of glass from the bottle with his foot, knowing his mother would kill him if his shoes got scratched “I spilled the milk.”

“There’s a famous saying about spilled milk, y’know,” the older man joked, a small frown on his face as he watched the boy, so sad over a broken bottle of milk.

“It’s a waste of money. Mum won’t care but…” the boy trailed up, his face twisting as he kicked his foot back and forth against the path.

“Your…dad will, yeah?” Thomas just nodded at the man. Thomas liked Mr Solomons; he had lived on the street even before his parents had. His mum didn’t like him that much, he wasn’t sure why because Mr Solomons had always done right by him.

"My dad might not be home yet so it’s okay and if he is, Mum will deal with him.” Mr Solomons sighed at the boy’s words, it sounded like the sigh Thomas’ father did whenever Thomas had been clumsy. He watched as his neighbour reached into his pocket, pulling out some change.

“Right, ‘ere you go. Go and get another pint before your dad gets in.” The boy smiled reaching for the change Mr Solomons was holding out for him, freezing when a feminine voice rang out from behind the older man.

"It’s alright, just helping the boy,” Mr Solomons’ voice looked calm, but even the ten year old boy could hear the uneasiness in his voice – he mustn’t like it when she’s angry either.

“That won’t be necessary, Mr Solomons.”

Mr Solomons turned around to face Thomas’ mother, who was stood with her hands on her hips, a glare on her face. Thomas didn’t like it when his mother looked angry, he thought she was the prettiest girl in the world, but she didn’t look pretty when she was annoyed.

“He doesn’t need your help,” his mother snapped, reaching out an arm towards her son. “Thomas, your father is home, he’d like some help in the garden.” Thomas groaned but walked towards his mother anyway, not forgetting to pick up the bread from the pavement as he did. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder and turned to walk towards their home but not before she threw a glare at their kind neighbour who was still stood in place, watching them leave.

Alfie wasn’t sure why he didn’t just move. It would save him a lot of pain, it would stop the pang he felt in his stomach every time he bumped into his young neighbour, he wouldn’t feel a sting every time the boy’s mother would rip her child away from him, as if he was a danger. Moving would solve most of his problems, but Alfie knew it wasn’t that simple. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if he wasn’t able to look out his window and see the house across the street, keeping a watchful eye on the home of the nice family.

On the nights he came home from the bakery, he would pause at his front door longer than he needed, his head turned so he could see the house across the street. The lights were usually off, telling him everyone was safe and asleep, sometimes there was a warm glow coming from the living room, telling him the parents were still up, and Alfie rolled his eyes each time. He imagined them sat together on the sofa - the wife telling her husband telling her how her day was, what their son did that day - as if she wasn’t living a massive lie.

He came home late that Tuesday night, and the lights were off, but there was something different. Alfie studied the house, noticing a shadow moving from outside, under the steps of the front door.

“For fuck sake,” he muttered to himself, making his way across the road, reaching for the gun that was secured in his belt.

As he crossed the road he wondered if he should stop the figure doing whatever it was they were going to do, he wondered whether he should let the person break in, they’d probably kill the husband first, then he could burst in and rescue the other two residents of the house, and his problems would be solved. But Alfie wasn’t stupid enough to risk the lives of the only two people he cared about on the off chance the other one would die first. So, he slowly crept to where the figure was hiding in the shadows, in the dim spot between two streetlamps. He pulled the gun out of his belt, pointing it directly at the almost-intruder.

“For fuck’s sake, Alfie,” she hissed, her eyes widening at the sight of the gun pointed to her head.

“’For fuck’s sake’ me? What are you hiding under the steps for, you dozy cow?” he shouted at her, as she shushed him, waving her arms furiously.

“Do you only have one volume? Jesus Christ.” She stood up, brushing the back of her dress with her hands. He wasn’t sure what to do, he hadn’t spoken to her properly in ten years, he thought about it a lot. He thought about what he would say to her if he got the chance but as she stood in front of him, he froze, his gun in his hand hanging at his side

“What the fuck are you doin’ out here?” he said, quieter this time as he tucked his gun back in his belt.

“Not that it’s any of your business but I needed some air.”

“Listen, love…” he started, he had something he needed to tell her, he knew he had to tell her, she deserved to know more than anyone, but she didn’t let him finish before she pushed past him, back into her house.

“So you hide under the steps of your house?” He gave her a sarcastic smile.

“Yes.”

...

Thomas didn’t understand why his mum was so upset. He watched as she cooked breakfast, she wasn’t wearing any makeup, she always wore makeup. Her eyes had these awful dark circles under them, they stopped from looking so pretty.

The news of Alfie Solomons death had made it’s way through London like wildfire. Even the most prestigious people were talking about it. He heard his neighbours talking about it all the time ‘good riddance’ they would say ‘one less scumbag on the earth’ others would agree.

His dad had sent him to his room when he dared defend the memory of his dead friend.

“I don’t care what you say. Mr Solomons was always kind to me,” Thomas had said at the dinner table after his dad had joked that the beautiful house opposite would now be available for a nice family.

Thomas was in his room, throwing a ball against the wall and catching it when it bounced back to him when his mother opened the door. She was wearing makeup again, wearing a nice dress and the expensive perfume his dad got her every Christmas.

His mother didn’t step in when his dad shouted at him, she just frowned as she stabbed her potatoes with her fork. It annoyed Thomas, she always defended him. It had been weeks since Mr Solomons was killed, and his mother had been sad ever since. Thomas knew it wasn’t because of Mr Solomons - his mum hated him - it was just a coincidence. She just wasn’t happy anymore, she stopped trying so much, she didn’t try to make nice meals, she didn’t try to make herself look pretty, she just wandered around the house like a ghost.

"I need to run errands, would you like to come with me?" she smiled at the boy, who returned her smile, nodding enthusiastically. They spent almost the whole day at the markets, buying what they needed for dinner, as well as few other treats that they couldn’t tell dad about. Thomas liked running errands with his mum, she would always make a day of it, they would always get lunch somewhere nice and she would buy him sweets to eat on his way home.

“Mum?” He asked as he dug through the paper bag of sweets “Are you okay now?”

“What do you mean?” she asked him, laying a hand on his shoulder as they walked.

“You were really sad for a bit”.

They were giggling as the entered the house, his mother dumped the shopping bags at the door, following him to the living room. They both froze in the doorway, their laughter stopping when they saw his dad sat on the sofa, holding an envelope in one hand, a bottle of whiskey in the other.

“I was,” his mum agreed. “But I’m okay now. I just needed a couple of weeks to be sad."

“Thomas,” his dad spoke, not looking at the boy. “Go to your room”

“But me and mum are going to make dinner.”

“Go, Thomas,” his dad said, a menacing smile on his face, he didn’t look at his son, his eyes were on his mother, who stood beside the young boy.

“It’s okay, Thomas,” she offered the boy a small smile, pushing him gently to the door. “We’ll make dinner later”

Thomas nodded and made his way upstairs. His door was barely closed when he heard his dad start to scream. It wasn’t unusual, but it felt different this time. His dad was never angry when he came home, he usually got angry when his mum dropped something or said something wrong.

Thomas had been in his room for close to an hour and his dad hadn’t stopped shouting. He slowly made his way out of his room and down the stairs, stopping outside the closed living room door, taking a seat on the floor.

“YOU FUCKING WHORE,” his dad screamed.

“How did you find out?” His mum’s voice was calm, it sounded like she’d been crying, but it was still calm. Calm and lovely.

“THE FUCKING LETTER. THE LETTER THE DEAD BASTARD SENT FROM MARGATE.”

“Wait? Margate?” The laugh Thomas’ dad let out scared the ten year old. It wasn’t like his mum’s laugh, it sounded cruel.

“That’s what you care about?” the man hissed, there was a commotion and Thomas heard his mum gasp

“Get off her!” Thomas ran up to the man, beating his small fists against the mans side, his dad let go of his mum, who fell to the floor, grabbing Thomas by his upper arms, picking him up from the floor.

“He’s not dead, you fucking bitch. And he was nice enough to send you a letter. Shall we read it together?” There was another commotion, and his mother let out a shriek, the sound of glass shattering.

“I am not dead,” his dad read out dramatically “I am in Margate. Same thing. I am sorry for what I did. My biggest regret is not allowing myself to be shot in the face by a short prick from Birmingham. My biggest regret is turning you away the day you told me you were carrying Thomas. I should have married you, we could have raised Thomas together, as it should have been.”

Thomas frowned, who was the letter from?

“I do not expect you to tell the boy who his real father is. I do not expect you to destroy your life for someone who is most undeserving, but I have been blessed with a second life and I could not live with myself if I did not express my true feelings. If you are stupid enough to come to me, I will be happy to welcome you, and my son, in Margate. Forever yours. ALFIE SOLOMONS,” his dad screamed; Thomas could hear his mum’s sobs which turned into a scream. He threw the door to the living room open, where his dad was holding his mum by her hair as she scratched at the man’s wrists, trying to break free.

“You,” his dad hissed, his teeth bared. Thomas thought he was the ugliest creature in the world “You fucking bastard. I should have known you weren’t mine. That you’re a fucking-“ he didn’t get to finish what he was going to say, a vase crashing against the back of his head, he dropped Thomas as he fell to the ground. Thomas cried, looking at the body of the man on the floor.

“Thomas,” his mother whispered, reaching for him but he pushed her away.

“Don’t touch me,” the boy cried. “I HATE YOU. I HATE BOTH OF YOU,” he ran out of the room, up the stairs and into his room, slamming the door shut behind him. He waited until his face was buried in his pillow before he allowed himself to cry, the bed shaking from his sobs. His life had been ruined because of his stupid parents.

...

Thomas rested his head against the window of the train, the rocking comforting him. His mother sat beside him, wary of her son, he didn’t understand what had happened, not really. He was only ten years old and his whole world had come crashing down in the space of a couple of hours. She laid a gloved hand on his knee, he was angry at her, but it was still comforting, because he loved her. He fiddled with the letter in his hands, he wanted to read it himself, he didn’t want to hear his dad’s voice when he thought about the words.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he muttered, his voice tired, it was past his bedtime but his mum said they had to leave the house immediately, barely giving him time to pack a bag.

“Some things are too complicated for a little boy, Thomas,” his mum said gently, removing her hand from his knee.

“So did Mr Solomons not want me?” he turned to look at his mother, resting his head against the back of his seat.

“Mr Solomons was very confused. But you said he was always kind to you,” the boy nodded in agreement, his eyes heavy from sleep.

He was awoken some time later by his mother gently shaking his shoulder. They walked out of the train station and Thomas took in the scenery before him. It was dark, but he could hear the faint sounds of birds chirping, the air felt fresher than it did in London, there wasn’t any smog or smoke, it was clean and fresh. He liked it here already.

His mum didn’t know where she was going, she muttered that she’d never been here before, looking down at the map in her right hand, as she gripped his hand with her left. Thomas walked along the wall that separated the beach from the pavement above, he’d never been to the beach before. He couldn’t see much, there weren’t many streetlamps, but he could hear the waves crashing against the wall, his mum said it was because the tide was in, that in the morning it would go back and there would be sand.

They eventually found the house, it was big, bigger than his house in London. He could feel butterflies in his stomach as his mother knocked on the door, it felt like they doubled when the light inside flickered on, muttering coming from inside. The door swung open, Thomas’ old friend stood on the other side, the boy’s eyes widened when he saw the man’s face, scarred and ugly, but not as ugly as his dad.

“The fuck are you two doin’ ‘ere?” Mr Solomons spat at the mother and son and Thomas’ head fell in disappointment at the man’s words. He really didn’t want him. His mum was about to speak when Mr Solomons face broke out into a grin “I’m just joking you two, you got my letter. Come in, come in,” he ushered them into the house, it was cluttered and dusty but Thomas found it comforting, it wasn’t cold and bare like his house.

Mr Solomons lead them to the living room, taking a seat on the chair, motioning for them to sit on the sofa. It was quiet for some time, his mum was sat stiffly next to him, Mr Solomons was studying them, a small smile on his face. Thomas tried to stifle a yawn in vain, his eyes still felt droopy, despite his excitement.

“How about we talk in the morning, kid? You need your rest.” Thomas nodded and allowed Mr Solomons to lead him to a bedroom, it wasn’t as cluttered as the other rooms in the house, it was bigger than his old bedroom, it just needed some toys. Thomas kicked off his shoes, lying down on the soft bed.

“Mr Solomons?” He called out sleepily to the man who was stood in the doorway, who hummed in response “I’m glad you’re my real dad.”

Mr Solomons coughed quietly, closing the door to his room slightly, but leaving it open just enough for a stream of warm light to come through.

#alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons #peaky blinders imagine

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multifanlol · 1 year

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hello! can u do a romantic darcy x reader but marcy had a crush on the reader before her possession? ty!

Hey! And thanks for the request I love Marcy and Darcy-

“So-“

“….”

“Don’t you think King Andries is a total clown sometimes-“

“I don’t care”

“Jeez you don’t have to be so rude darling-“

“Shut up Darcy!”

“Aww, you said my name this time”

“Uggg”

The teen groaned while the host referred to as “Darcy” who tookover the teens best friends body continue to annoy them, ever since they were captured by the robots King Andrias sent they were originally just sent to the dungeon with “Darcy” coming every now and then to pratically torment them about how they can’t leave.

But later on “Darcy” began to visit more frequently and frequently and even let you have a “spare room” which was just Marcys room when she lived there although you didn’t mind, you were confused though, I mean Darcy imprisoned you sure you might of felt something towards them sometimes…..but that’s only because you have some hope Marcy’s in there…..is what you tell yourself

In truth Darcy began to have taken a liking to you, at first Darcy thought it was just Marcy’s feelings towards you for some reason affecting her, but the more Darcy began to visit you intending to annoy you, Darcy began to feel some strong emotions…..no they weren’t hate nor disgust…..they were weirdly positive, she tried to focus her mind off other stuff but they felt insanely strong and annoying…..therefore after all this thinking she’s trying to win you over

“You know…..”

You groaned banging your head in frustration

“What now….”

“Marcy took a liking to you….now i can see why”

You could already sense Darcy’s smirk but that didn’t bother you as you nearly choked on air which caused Darcy to laugh hysterically

“Just shut up i know your…..your lying!”

“Heh….Please sweetie your embarrassing yourself…!”

She said wiping a fake tear from her eyes laughing at how flustered you were as you clearly liked your best friend

“Y-You don’t know what your talking about, your just trying to mess with me and i can see it, just leave me alone….”

Darcy then turned into a fit of giggling

“Please I’ve told you a million times dear, Marcy’s in here, i can tell she liked you…..and it’s clearly mutual”

You puffed your cheeks and tried to control them by glaring at her which made it look worser which caused the psycho maniac to laugh even harder

“You know since Marcy clearly isn’t coming back, you know I’m basically her-“

“Your not Marcy, Darcy”

“I know you’ll change your mind some day!~”

“….”

“You know we could try to get along at least-“

“You imprisoned me”

“It’s all a bad days work, really would you rather fight for that earth planet?-“

“Yeah, i would! My family and friends are there!”

“…..”

“Well would rescuing them and destroying the rest of the humans make you better-“

“I “appreciate” the offer but there’s others that live there too that while i don’t know them, there are good people that live there-“

“Fine fine jeez….you don’t have to get all hero and mighty n/n!”

You stopped at what she just said the nickname fluttered your heart always because a specific clumsy nerd usually called you that

Few months before Amphibia…..

“Hey n/n!”

“Hey Mar mar!”

“Wanna go to the store to help me look for a gift for Anne, we can also go to that game store and get that game you wanted-“

“Sure Marc, what’s wrong?”

“My parents said they need me home….I’m sure it’s nothing I’ll catch up with you later!”

“It’s fine, I’ll start looking”

Why did she have a bad feeling about this

You ended up meeting up with Anne and Sasha and ended up getting a text from Marcy that she found a gift for Anne

“Why didn’t she tell me….”

I mean you weren’t upset just confused as it felt odd she could of told you whatever it was with her parents was done but it isn’t a big deal

When you met up with Marcy you noticed a different vibe she gave off…..like she was hiding something, you tried not to think much of it as you thought you were maybe being paranoid

“So you got this box…?”

“Trust me Sash, it probably looks cooler on the inside!”

“Maybe Anne should open it since it’s her birthday”

“Alright i will”

As Anne was about to open you felt uneasy especially looking at how overly nervous or excited Marcy looked you couldn’t really read it like you normally could

Yeah it definitely has something to do with her parent-

And just like that a magical portal pushed you all into it

You screamed from the fall and looked around which appeared to be in the middle of a road

“Huh-“

You screamed at all the random huge creatures that nearly hit you with other creatures riding them

End of flashback (Yes I’m aware the other bits were unnecessary-)

You sighed remembering that night where Sasha betrayed you all, and especially King Andrias outing Marcy about getting you all stranded in Amphibia especially when revealed about her parents moving and which stopped Darcy’s laughing as they stared at you sighing

“Aw you can’t seriously be upset at my teasing-“

When you were still staring at the ground glumly it made her feel those strong emotions again…..ugh

Instead they were more of sympathy towards you she really didn’t know how to process that, whenever you were sad like this which was rare she’d usually tease with her “wonderful” flirting and you’d stop here it felt more personal…..they were bad at this

You ended up feeling an awkward arm around your shoulder

“Hey, wipe that annoying frown off your face it’s almost as annoying as King Andrias being gloomy all the time….”

“….”

Darcy then awkwardly moves her arm attempting to think of something else

“Why do you think Marcy went behind me and the girls backs at this crazy plan”

It felt weird telling Darcy this especially since Darcy was technically Marcy but you knew with how much they said it themselves Marcy was in there but at the moment it was technically not your Marcy talking

“What….”

“I just wanna know why she did, if she’s still in there what do you think….”

Darcy shifted awkwardly in a different position she didn’t really know what to do….although you being upset made them feel a certain thing that irritated them, not in the way you’d think though….

“Well, maybe Marcy thought you wouldn’t understand her-“

“Really?”

They felt like they spoke too soon until they noticed you actually considering it

“I mean, maybe she just cared about you or some stupid Marcy thing like that…so she didn’t wanna lose you”

“I mean, it’d make sense but being in this world just feels too much…”

“….I mean while I’m not Marcy in the way you’d want i know she’d probably apologise right now or something stupid like that-“

Darcy stopped when all of a sudden they felt two arms wrap around them which quickly stopped

She didn’t know what it was and couldn’t tell whether she liked it or not

“That didn’t happen”

“Yeah-“

I guess in the end of the day whoever imprisons you, go for it 😍/j

And yeah that’s it sorry it’s short i didn’t have much ideas for this

#Amphibia #amphibia x reader #Yandere Amphibia x reader #Amphibia Darcy #Amphibia Darcy x reader #Marcy Wu #Amphibia Marcy x reader #character x reader

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