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lythea-creation · 2 years

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Great Timing - Natasha Romanoff x fem reader (Chapter 1)

summary: Natasha and you are in a secret relationship. But everything seems to turn upside down when your ex best friend Layla suddenly appears in front of your door to seek your help.

warnings: mentions of abusive relationship/domestic violence, angst, violence in general, verbal sexual assault

word count: 2.882

Author's note: Feel free to check out my Masterlists and make requests. No reposting please! Reblogging, comments and requests are always appreciated <3 If you like the story/my writing, please don't be shy to say it via comments or asks! It takes you a few seconds and might make my day. It's the best appreciation you can show to a writer you like.

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(f/n)'s PoV

The ringing of the doorbell ripped me out of my sleepy state.

I lifted my head off of Natasha's shoulder to move to the door while she was following closely behind but out of sight.

She was on guard. It would be crazy not to be as it was almost 11 pm.

The apartment belonged to me and nobody except the team should know that Natasha was here. Attackers usually did not ring, but who would visit this late at night without saying anything?

Natasha hid while I opened the door. She would protect me without hesitation if anything happened.

“Hey”, Layla's soft voice resounded through the apartment and the empty hallway.

We had been best friends for years before she had ghosted me. Cut me off and disappeared without an explanation.

Now all of a sudden she was standing in front of my door, wearing an anxious and distraught expression … as well as a nasty bruise over her left cheek and right eye, accompanied by a split lip.

“Layla, what …?” The words got stuck in my throat. What did I even want to say?

“I'm sorry to invade like this but could we talk inside please?”, she requested.

I simply nodded and took a step aside for her to come in.

After closing the door I noticed that Natasha had retreated.

Apparently she had evaluated the situation and assumed that Layla was not a threat in any way. She knew that I would call her if I needed her.

Layla and I sat down on the couch where she spotted the two glasses Natasha and I had just been using. “Oh, do you have a girlfriend?” She seemed excited about the question. It was a stark contrast to her behavior before.

“Yeah, but it's not like it's any of your business anymore. What happened to your face?”

It hurt to talk to her after months of hearing nothing. But she had always been precious to me and hence I was worried about her injury.

“I'm sorry for bothering you … and for excluding you from my life after everything. But Joe forced me to … my boyfriend. I never told you about him. Actually when I started dating him, he manipulated me into staying away from you. He abused me … and today I finally found the courage to run away. I left as soon as he fell asleep.” Her voice was shaking.

Her story filled my entire being with shock, sadness and guilt. Maybe I could have helped her if I had tried harder and longer to stay in contact with her. But the rational side of my brain told me that it was not my fault.

“I'm so sorry, Layla. Of course you're welcome to stay. We will figure something out”, I promised her.

“Thanks. I didn't know where else to go. My parents and I aren't in touch anymore either. They were so mad at me. I can't even remember why. You were the only person I could think of to go to. I figured you wouldn't let me down. You never have”, she proposed.

I pulled Layla into a tight embrace before making her a hot chocolate.

“I need to talk to my girlfriend now. Just make yourself comfortable”, I declared and headed for my bedroom.

Natasha was sitting on the bed doing some paperwork. She immediately smiled at me.

Seeing her like that made me want to forget everything around and enjoy my time with her. But Layla needed me.

I sat down across from my girlfriend and explained her the situation.

“God … you know that I could tear that guy apart with ease, right?”, she noted.

How could she get me to smile in such a horrible situation?

“Yeah, but that's not our first option”, I shot back with a chuckle.

“You trust her, don't you? Enough to introduce me to her?”, she wondered.

I had not seen Layla for a while, but she had never given me a reason not to trust her. “She won't betray us”, I assured her.

Natasha nodded. “Okay.”

We returned to the living room together, holding hands.

“You're in a relationship with THE Black Widow?”, Layla exclaimed in awe. She had always been a superhero fan. We both had.

“Natasha is fine”, my girlfriend greeted her with a grin. “But you can't tell anyone about (f/n) and me, got it? I don't wanna put her in more danger than she already is.”

“Yeah, of course”, Layla agreed without hesitation.

Nat inched closer to Layla, letting go of my hand in the process. “Look. I've heard a lot about you in the past and (f/n) explained me why you ghosted her just now. I'm sorry for everything that happened to you and I want you to be safe and comfortable here. But if you ever hurt (f/n) like that again, I'll make sure that you'll regret it. Okay? … Great! Now we need to figure out the sleeping situation.” Her voice changed from dangerously low to happy.

The irony that she was overprotective and Joe abusive.

“We don't have a guest room”, I thought aloud.

“I could sleep over at the compound for a while”, Natasha suggested.

“What? No”, I whined and slung my arms around her neck. “You just returned from your long mission.”

“Don't worry about it. I will sleep on the couch. After everything it will be just fine”, Layla proclaimed. “I'm grateful that you even let me stay. I wouldn't have judged you for sending me away after the pain I caused you.”

I let go of my girlfriend to turn to Layla again. “I'm not holding that against you, Lay. How about I take care of your injuries and give you some comfortable clothes to wear?”

“That'd be great. Thank you”, she noted with a smile.

Suddenly I was pulled back into Natasha's arms by my waist. I could feel her breath against my neck. “Are you trying to make me jealous now?”, she whispered.

I was too busy trying to compose myself in front of Layla to answer.

“Nickname, taking care of injuries, borrowing clothes. You usually do that for me, remember?”, she added and squeezed my waist. Her teasing was a cruel payback.

I gave her a quick peck to the lips and pulled Layla to the bathroom with me shouting an apology at my girlfriend.

“You two really seem to come along well”, Layla remarked as soon as the door was closed.

“Yeah, I'm lucky”, I claimed with a bright, genuine smile while taking care of her split lip.

Layla winced from time to time but did not complain.

“Does Joe know that you left him? Did you write him a note or something?”, I inquired.

“No. I had to escape before he could notice that I wasn't laying next to him anymore”, she explained.

“I bet he's searching for you. You should stick to either Nat or me in the meantime for the case he finds you. I don't want you to be alone then.”

She nodded.

“Do you think about reporting him?”

A sigh left her lips. “I dunno. I can't proof what he did to me. He's rich and has a great reputation. I would most likely lose this case and only anger him further.”

“Just stay here for a while to give both of you space. Maybe something else will catch his attention if enough time passes”, I considered. “And don't worry about intruding. I'm happy that you're here.”

She flashed me a teary smile.

Over the next week a new sense of normality overcame us.

We had bought some clothes and other essentials for Layla and reassured her that it was a gift. She had nothing right now and Natasha and I had decided to help her.

It was great to catch up with Layla after all this time, telling us what the other had missed.

Today I had a day off. So Layla and I had decided to seize the time.

After our trip to the beach we were now cooking dinner.

Natasha was joining her teammates for a movie night.

“I really missed your dinner parties”, I confessed while cutting some vegetables.

“Maybe you wouldn't have missed them so much if you had cooked more often yourself”, she teased me with a chuckle.

“Hey! I do cook for myself! I'm just not a chef like you. And when Nat is home we usually don't cook because it's a waste of our precious time”, I enlightened her.

“Honestly she's around more than I thought. I mean … considering that she's a superhero”, Layla stated.

“She isn't taking any long missions on purpose right now because ...” The ringing of the doorbell interrupted me.

I turned off the stove and pushed Layla toward my bedroom handing her my phone and locking her inside. The key was quickly hid behind a photo frame.

Then I opened the front door to an unfamiliar man. “Good evening. You're (f/n) (l/n), right? I'm Joe, Layla's boyfriend. She told me a lot about you. Is she here?”

“Layla? Sorry, but I don't get why you're here. If she told you about me you should know that she ghosted me over a year ago”, I replied bluntly.

“Well … we had a fight and then she left without talking to me. She's been gone for a week now and I'm worried. She doesn't answer any of my texts or calls. You're the only one I could think of she would turn to.” He sounded desperate and concerned, like the perfect boyfriend. “I wanted to give her some time and space hoping that she just needed to cool off. But now I can't wait anymore.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. I hope that she's doing okay, but honestly it's none of my business anymore”, I claimed.

“Oh (f/n) … I really hoped you'd be more cooperative”, he suddenly uttered with a sigh. His tone had completely changed from friendly and worried to disappointed and cold.

He took out his phone and showed me several pictures of Layla and me at different places. The last one being of us at the beach today. He had stalked us this whole time and we had not noticed.

A heavy feeling settled inside my stomach.

Joe pushed himself into the apartment and closed the door behind him.

He casually leaned against the door. “So where is Layla? No use in lying to me, sweetheart.”

His words made me feel sick.

When I stayed silent he attempted to search for her, but I blocked his way.

“You don't want me to hurt you, do you?”, he questioned.

I gulped and yet did not move. More than ever I wished that Natasha was home.

Joe's fist collided with my cheek. The punch was strong enough to send me to the ground.

A metallic taste had settled inside my mouth and the teary eyes did not exactly help with my loss of orientation.

I stood back up and pretended to try to punch him. Instead I kneed him in the balls sending him to the ground with a pained groan.

Natasha had shown me a lot of tricks if I ever needed to defend myself, especially from men. New York was not the safest city after all. But they had one downside. The actual goal of those techniques was to give me a chance to escape.

Unfortunately I could not consider escaping when Layla was counting on me. We had to trust each other.

“I'm not letting you to her. Not after I saw what you did to her”, I announced.

“You have no idea what you're talking about”, Joe growled.

“I don't? I saw the bruises … how she flinched whenever I moved too suddenly. There's no excuse for abusing another person, especially the one you claim to love”, I shot back.

“So what? She deserved it. I was just teaching her how to be a proper girlfriend. She should be grateful”, he hissed.

“You hurt her because you're insecure. You hurt me because you can't stand it that I'm daring to deny your wishes. You're just an arrogant, insecure, pathetic abuser”, I insulted him.

Provoking him might not have been the best idea for myself, but at least it distracted him from Layla … and bought me some time.

The air was ripped from my lungs when he punched me in the stomach. I heard my ribs cracking as he continued kicking me.

Everything around me was a blur.

Joe pulled me up by my hair and looked me straight in the eyes.

I could not see him properly due to the tears. Yet I gave my best to appear confident.

“You're so full of yourself. Did you seriously think you could stand a chance in a fight against me? Your looks don't help you with that, sweetheart.”

His cocky grin was pissing me off.

“Stop calling me that”, I growled lowly.

“Oh, come on. You're hot and feisty. That's a real turn on. Of course I had to keep my girlfriend away from your tempting gay body.”

“Layla is straight and I have a girlfriend”, I spat out. It was still hard to breathe.

“I bet your girlfriend is hot as well. The thought of a threesome with Layla and you was great enough but she could always join us.”

The urge to throw up overpowered me at the mere imagination of that.

“Layla and I already had to keep her from going after you for hurting Layla. What do you think would she do to you if she had heard what you just said?”, I alluded.

“So she's the dominant type? I bet you two have a lot of fun ...”

“And I bet you can't get anyone to touch you at all and that's why you need to threaten and hurt Layla into doing it.”

My scream echoed through the apartment as pain exploded in my left shoulder.

“You should choose your words more wisely”, Joe suggested while enveloping my throat in a tight grip. If breathing had been hard before it was feeling impossible now.

“You will regret mocking me”, he threatened me before sinking to the ground with a blood curdling scream.

Natasha had broken his arm with a swift kick and caught me before I could drop to the ground.

“Finally.” I let out a sigh of relief and closed my eyes.

“I'm sorry that I took so long, love”, she whispered and caressed my cheek gently.

“Take him away, guys”, she addressed Tony and Steve who had been waiting outside.

Tony bombarded Joe with sarcastic comments and jokes on the way outside making the latter furious.

“You're going to regret this! I will ruin your reputation”, Joe declared.

“Oh, we will take good care of you. You should be grateful that we don't let Natasha deal with you after you beat up her girlfriend”, Steve shut him down. “Your broken arm was nothing, trust me.”

“We should let Layla out. I locked her in, just like we planned”, I reminded Natasha. “You can take care of me afterwards.”

She knew that she could not convince me otherwise and therefore put me down gingerly before setting Layla free.

Layla immediately hurried toward me and gasped at my state. “Oh god. I'm so sorry”, she whispered.

“Lay, I'm fine. Nat was here just on time thanks to your call”, I reassured her. “And now we have the proof we needed”, I added with a victorious grin as I pointed to the security camera we had installed a few days ago exactly for this case.

Natasha knelt down next to me and stroke my hair.

“Your techniques would have saved me if I could have run”, I let her know which earned me a soft smile from her. “And your psychological tricks worked even better. He felt superior and therefore acted just like I wanted him to.”

“You told us you just wanted him to confess if he ever showed up”, Layla recalled.

“Yeah, but now his confession is way more convincing”, I remarked with a grin. “You two would have never agreed if I had told you the whole plan. As if you would let me get hurt on purpose.”

“You're lucky that you're already injured and that I love you. Otherwise I wouldn't let you off the hook so easily”, Natasha claimed.

For a moment I felt guilty. That Natasha was putting her feelings for me into words, right in front of Layla, showed me how upset she was.

“Now let's get you to the compound”, she decided and cradled me in her arms.

“You know that I can still walk, right?”, I questioned with a painful chuckle.

Despite my slight protest I actually enjoyed her closeness. The feeling of safety only she could provide.

Next Chapter

#marvel #natasha romanoff x fem reader #lgbtqia +#angst #abuse #abusive relationship #domestic violence #protective Natasha #own character #ghosting #romance #hurt/comfort #black widow #tony stark #steve rogers #avengers

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olderthannetfic · 2 years

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Had to unfollow somebody because they reblogged like 5 posts in a row of donation posts that all tried to guilt trip people about AO3. "If you have money to donate to AO3, you can help a [insert list of identities] in a tough situation here."

Donation posts in general I find sketchy, just because they all follow the same format, I have no idea if they're actually who they say they are, and it's especially frustrating to see people try to drag in AO3 to guilt trip people. "How dare you spend money on something you enjoy that publishes it's financial records and you actively see the benefit of. Instead you should give money to me, a random stranger who's claiming to be in a tough situation."

Idk if I'm framing that right, and it feels bad to rag on donation posts that may or may not be real, but I hate when they try and guilt trip people, especially if they try and throw something people like under the bus to do it.

It's disingenuous bullshit, yes.

The world is full of horrifying cases of scam artists plowing through vulnerable communities with this shit. A friend of a friend was apparently caught up in this one:

https://www.marketwatch.com/amp/story/mercenary-grifter-scammed-dozens-in-seattles-comic-book-and-lgbtq-scene-with-lies-about-fake-medical-costs-and-other-tall-tales-prosecutors-say-11637611432

This fucker preyed on other black geeks, using all the right tactics, like claiming some airbnb rejected her for racist reasons. It's all real stuff that happens to people, and so her friends gave and gave and gave. You'd think that "my grandmother the shinto priestess" shit would have started alarm bells going in people's heads, but I guess she didn't get to that till later.

I don't donate to randos where I can't tell if my money will be effective. Even if they're telling the truth, if they're just shit with money or take on a million pets they can't afford or live in a location they can't realistically afford, me helping this month won't do anything to solve the long term problem.

I especially don't donate to randos who sound like a soap opera because while many people really do just sound like that, it's extra common among the liars.

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oneoftheprettynerds · 3 years

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Just My Type: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 2 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Darkside

Main Masterlist

A/N: This chapter is 2K words more than the last chapter and I’ve second guessed every single line in this one. This story is getting a lot of traction guys and I’m equal parts happy and scared. Thank you for the nice comments, they do encourage me. Also I’m just ranting feel free to skip this note haha. Your support in any form: like, comment or reblog is appreciated greatly. Also you can dm if you want to be friends, God knows I need those. Hopefully, this chap was worth the wait. Also, I made a poster for this on the main masterlist so check that out, it might be foreshadowing dome plot.

Warning: Eventual Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks later.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can't ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can't get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Chapter 2: Just My Type

It had almost been a week since the incident and you had barely gotten a wink of sleep. When you drove back to your house that night, Steve surprisingly didn’t argue as you had expected. After that friend of his whispered something in his ears, you only assumed he was needed elsewhere and you couldn’t be more thankful for that. They escorted you to your car and Steve thanked you with a strained smile, words genuine but eyes calculating. You didn’t even wonder what went inside his head. You were thankful for the peace and quiet of your own car, content to just get out of the area and into your humble abode.

After you put the already asleep Grace to bed, you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of her room. You just sat on the floor beside the bed, hand intertwined with hers as you rested your head beside her tummy on the mattress.

Your adrenaline wore off and your limbs ached as your thoughts finally settled into place, the gravity of the catastrophe a few hours prior hitting you. Tears made their way down your cheeks as you realized that you both could have very well died tonight.

One bullet could have sealed each of your lives and you were basically defenseless had Steve not saved you against the creeping assaulter. You couldn’t commend yourself for even defending yourself against one attacker, the guilt of killing someone harboring in your tired head. Your quiet whimpers eventually wore you out, while Grace’s shallow breaths lulled you to sleep.

You didn’t manage to sleep for long though, every time your eyes closed, horrific images flashed in your mind. A blood curdling scream here, heaps of dead bodies there, with distant exploding sounds all around. You could see men clad in black holding guns to Grace’s head and whensoever you woke up, you just wondered how much more creative your mind could get, making these visuals so realistic.

When 8 AM rolled in, you didn’t wake Grace up even though it was Monday and you had work. You got up, changed into a long tee after a shower and called your office and then her daycare. You knew you would have a hard time going back to your normal life, to become trusting enough to leave her alone.

Your assumption about yourself was right. You took almost the entire week off, which your boss generously allowed you to after hearing your traumatic experience, which soon made the city news headlines. All your colleagues checked on you, almost once in the five day break you took, and sweetly enough offered to bring you anything you needed.

It was kind of them, but none of them could bring you what your heart genuinely craved: peace and assurance that you and Grace would be safe.

Even though Saturdays were off, you did go to work to see what you missed and where to start on again. You went in because you knew that the random spurt of resolution you got in the bathroom to collect your life, wouldn’t last.

To ease back into your normal life, you gathered your guts, called a babysitter and left home. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave Grace at the daycare just yet. One of your good friends offered to come in to the office and help you, even on the weekend and you were quite grateful to him.

When you both decided to take lunch in the nearby dining place, you both got to talking, the conversation obviously originating from ‘How have you been?’ and ‘Is Grace okay?’. You reminisced about how you used a photobooth to hide, grotesquely and uncomfortably chuckling when you remembered Sarah calling you her mom and how her dad saved you all.

You deliberately left the part where you killed someone and Steve shot someone too. You hadn’t come to terms with it yet and you stiffly restricted your mind whenever it tried to go down that lane.

He sensed how the conversation was becoming tense and distressing for you and briskly redirected the topic.

“I hope the dad was hot though?” He wiggled his eyes creepily and you snorted at his vulgarity, light for the first time in days.

“He was easy on the eyes; I will admit that.” You played along, recalling your girlfriends and how you used to ogle people.

“Don’t be a homewrecker though, I don’t support cheating.” He said nonchalantly, checking his phone as a notification bell rang off.

“He’s a widower.”

His eyes snapped up and met yours as his head tilted in confusion. “That’s a strange fact to know about someone you met for a few minutes.”

Steve’s even stranger comment about his dead wife popped in your mind and before you could stop yourself, you blurted that out as well.

“He even said and I quote, ‘She deserved what she got.’” He put his phone down, weirdly amused.

“Ooh Creepy! Do you think he is one of those husbands who kill their wives and bury them in the backyard? The podcasts always say that the psychopaths are visually handsome and charming. And his statement was quite vague and spooky.” He continued munching, and you felt that now Aiden was really paying attention unlike before.

“Steve did have a gun while searching for Sarah, come to think of it.” You drank your tea and awaited his response. What you did not expect was his eyes to widen and worry to cloud his features.

“Um Widower Steve with a toddler Sarah? At the place where The Vices attacked?” He mumbled, grabbing his phone and doing God knows what on it. Your eyebrows furrowed and before you could ask him what was up with his antics, he resumed.

“This is a long shot but I really hope your Steve didn’t look like this.” He positioned the phone in your vision, and you could already tell it was Steve by the sapphire blue of his eyes piercing through the screen into your soul. The picture was a month or two old, his hair was much longer when you met him than in the photo.

“This is him.” Your eyes met Aiden’s and worry visibly took over his features as his forehead creased and jaw tense.

He looked around the restaurant, finding it empty in the afternoon. He leaned and whispered, “This Steve of yours is dangerous.”

You interrupted Aiden, even though you already knew Steve was, the sight of his armed men still fresh in your head, and inquired, “Why do you say so?”

“It’s just like the fictional stories we hear from our parents, except here, in this city of ours, every myth holds true. There are really powerful men, untouchable by law, who reign the city silently and live luxuriously. Every shady, under the table deal you’ve heard of, transpires. Illegal trades, fraud schemes and bounty hunters are not fictional, they exist here. These men kill whatever hinders them and trust me, you don’t want to be the deer caught in their Jaguar’s headlights.”

Ice froze in your veins again, resembling the fear you felt that night but now because of your deemed ‘savior’. You convinced yourself that you had not wronged him in any way, instead had saved his daughter’s life.

“Are you in contact with him? If you are, distance yourself cleverly, don't block him immediately.”

“No, we just parted ways near my car, he thanked me for Sarah and was called away. It’s almost been a week and he hasn’t reached out if that’s what you mean. We didn’t exchange contacts and I don’t think I even told him my full name.” You explained yourself as if you were on the witness stand in court, trying to convince yourself more than Aiden.

“Pray that he doesn’t remember you more than that, if at all. I’m being totally honest here in telling you this, I’m genuinely worried for you and Grace. You are smart but he is powerful. He has unimaginable resources and if you become more than a speck of dust on his windshield, you are screwed. There is no exaggeration here.” You took his words to your heart and swore to be careful, if not for yourself then for Grace.

The rest of the day went by and you found yourself dwelling on and worrying about Aiden’s words. At least he put it out there as it was. Heeding his advice, you did google Steve on your phone, finally finding him in the topmost news headline when you added ‘Buck’ in the search bar as well.

‘With 38 lawsuits pending against businessman Steve Rogers, the filers have lost all hope in prosecuting him. All cases are being drawn out for indefinite periods of time by the Chief Justice Bruce……’

Aiden was right.

Businessmen was code for illegal mob heads. Cases being stretched on meant he was, in fact, invincible, at least to the common man’s fists.

You flickered through several titles, each one more surprising than the last. He was believed to be involved in the carnival attack, alleged for three hit and run cases that he didn’t lose but the witnesses swore they saw him driving and was also rumored to have brought in quintals of drugs just last week, but the packets just evaporated into thin air and there was no proof of their existence in the first place even on incessant searching.

Every crime of his made you shudder and you mentally thanked Aiden for pulling you out of your oblivion. Your mind raced and heart palpated and you cursed yourself for being so drastically unaware even after living here for almost four years. Technically speaking, Steve and you were even, him saving your life and you saving his daughter’s. No logical reason came to your mind for him contacting you ever.

You wished as Aiden said and assured yourself that your paths would never cross again, Steve not having reached out in a week, so hopefully never again.

That thought went out the window when you reached home to find a box awaiting you. Hannah, the babysitter you had called, informed you it came around 5 in the evening and was exclusively to be opened by you today.

Your mind raced as you paid the babysitter, your hands sweaty as you tried not to think about the gift and its sender. There was an apparently clear answer to who mailed it but you refused to accept that, courtesy of Aiden.

The box was of the height of Grace, it was black with red hearts painted across it; some red roses also sparingly adorned it. You opened the lid and found tons of red tissues and a multi-flower bouquet adorned with mostly red roses and a few purple and pink flowers.

Because of your frequent gardening in your backyard, you knew all the flowers’ meanings. To sum it all up, red flowers, especially roses were used for courting someone. Pink meant admiration, purple for beauty and you knew the ‘violet’ flowers were for loyalty.

As your nerves increased tenfold, you willed yourself to get it over with and empty out the box first, ignoring the little card in your bouquet, saving the ‘best’ for last. You find a mini bouquet inside but unlike yours, it had chocolates of every kind. You did read its card and cringed when it was for Grace, bothered not by the deed but by the doer.

Further inside were some animal plushies, face masks, perfumes, scented body lotions and shampoos. Your head hurt thinking about the ‘single mother care package’ delivered to you by someone you refused to acknowledge.

As Grace sat in her playpen occupied, you dared to pick your card and read its message, your heart beating unrealistically fast for someone who refused to accept the cruciality of her situation.

I can’t thank you enough in this lifetime for saving my little princess. The gift of your help is more than anything money could ever buy for me. Please accept this invitation of mine for dinner tomorrow night, 7PM at La Bonne Nuit, as a symbol of my sincere gratitude for everything you’ve done. I’ll gets the kids covered and pick you up, you just be ready and look as amazing you always do. Sincerely, Steve Rogers

You stilled as you read it over and over again.

An invitation, your ass. Even in writing his authority portrayed, there was no question and hope for you coming, he just stated that you’d come. Looking pretty as always? You just met him once, in the middle of a calamity, covered in dirt and blood.

All the red roses and gifts screamed his romantic interest but you illusioned yourself into thinking they meant gratitude. You wouldn’t be able to digest it all otherwise.

Knowing what you knew now about Steve, you understood there was no denying the dinner tomorrow. You had to get out of his clutches and distance yourself, but as Aiden had so rightfully said, cleverly.

That night you laid in bed mulling over your next course of actions. You had called the gift shop to return the unwarranted presents you received but they said it was non refundable and anonymous to trace. You bitterly snorted in their face, they put a card with Steve’s name on it for heaven’s sake!

You didn’t flinch even when you realized you never gave Steve your address, neither for mailing stuff nor for picking you up. There was no number given to call him and thank or to call him and deny. The bastard had planned it all out, and you felt like you were driving in a one way lane, going deeper into the tunnel. Somewhere among your all-relentless fretting, you managed to finally sleep.

When the doorbell rang, your eyebrows furrowed. It was just 6 PM and you weren’t expecting anybody else except for Steve. You had already begun getting ready, having developed a habit of keeping an extra margin of time now having a toddler. You still had to assemble Grace’s essential backpack, fill it with her meds and bottles.

While still putting on your diamond earring, you made your way to the door, unlocking it to find a redhead grinning at you. Before you could interact with her, a small body clung to your legs and you looked down to find the azure eyed kid that put you in this mess, Sarah, smiling up at you.

“Mama! You look pwetty!” She looked up in awe and now aware that she didn’t have a mother, you were even more so coerced into accepting this title rather than telling the kid that 'you are semi orphaned'.

“I’m Wanda, Sarah’s nanny. Mr. Rogers told me to pick her friend, Grace, up for the night?” So, this was what Steve meant. Bringing Sarah was proof enough of her legitimacy, but behind her you saw ‘Buck’ salute you from the driver’s seat of the black car. One of these days, you needed to learn his real name.

You invited Wanda inside and Sarah ran to Grace immediately, grabbing and whining while asking Grace to give her some popcorn she was munching on, her fist generously full.

In your open plan kitchen, you grabbed two plastic bowls, filled them with each with the tub of popcorn that sat in the microwave and handed each toddler one, fortunately quietening Sarah. Sarah obeyed Grace, in first thanking you, their ‘mama’ and then following her to her open playpen.

You faced Wanda again who sat on a barstool and kept on beaming. If your annoyance at her amusement showed, she sure didn’t let it falter the smile.

“Mr. Rogers told me you’d worry about your daughter, but I assure you she’d be in more than capable hands.” All you could focus on was how self-reassured she was. “I’ve served him for almost two years, the last family I served, I was there for 8 years and before them, I was employed for 3. I know the general bedtime and snacks, all I need from you is information about her allergies.”

You nodded and told her about Grace, her meds and what all you packed. When you got to know that her family owned the daycare Grace went to, you were finally somewhat convinced. After seeing them off, it was about fifteen minutes later, that the devil disguised in Prada showed up at your door.

You grabbed your purse and your keys. Wiping your sweaty palms on your dress, you opened the door. Steve stood there, a smirk lodging on his handsome face. His blue, three-piece suit perfectly paired with his cerulean eyes was impressive to say the least.

He was dressed to kill, and it appeared as if you were his first victim.

As your eyes took him in from top to bottom, his did the same lazily, taking their time, resting at certain places for longer period than others.

“You look stunning.”

You knew you did. You wore one of your more expensive dresses when you found out La Bonne Nuit to be one of the few seven-star hotels in the country. In hindsight, if you’d have dressed worse, maybe he’d have left you alone.

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?” He offered you his hand and you obliged with your palm in his. Your other hand pulled the doorknob while you stepped out, all alarms already set-in place. He waited while you locked and put the keys in and when you were done, with a soft kiss along your knuckles, he pulled you along.

The act surprised you, your stomach turning and your gut wrenching and you wondered if you’d be able to process the food after all, with your upset digestive system.

Like a proper gentleman, he opened the door for you and when you settled, he took his position at the driver’s seat. The silence was painful for you, your overthinking finally filling ideas in your head that you avoided contemplating about all day, focusing on Grace.

He was relaxed though; his humming was proof enough.

Mid way through, your thoughts were rudely interrupted when a hand housed itself on your knee. You glanced to find Steve’s palm slightly rubbing your knee. If it was meant to be assuring, you certainly didn’t feel like it.

You frowned and looked up to Steve who still had the arrogant smirk on his face, eyes straight ahead on the road, giving no indication of his inappropriate touching.

You wanted to swat his hand away but a brainwave dashed through your head and a disturbing thought made you halt, that whether he carried guns to restaurants as well, since carnivals were no big deal.

You ignored his hand and continued looking outside, pretending to ignore it as well as he did. Your scowl was a huge giveaway though.

You didn’t know that, but when your eyes found their way out, his finally rested on your face, the smirk growing even more.

Thankfully, apart from the incongruous touching, the dinner went okay-ish. The food and wine were impeccable, perfect even, the restaurant on the hotel’s top floors was so picturesque. You tried to savor your one-time experience there, knowing you’d no way be able to come back there.

Well, you tried to relish as much as you could while your mind still sat there, wary of the human in front of you. If you’d ignore your journey here, Steve was nothing short of a true gentleman, often making you wonder if you had imagined his hand on you.

This ‘friendly’ date you were having was probably one of the best you have had, he had left no expenses. He appeared to be interested in your work, about your childhood and about Grace’s but you swiftly avoided his questions about her father. He was growing a tad bit too comfortable for your liking and you still refused to entertain the idea that this was a ‘date’ date.

When you were finally onto dessert, the last course of your meal, your table was shadowed by the broad frame of a brunette and his date. He clapped Steve’s shoulder and Steve rose to hug him, you awkwardly smiled.

“It’s been far too long since you’ve been here, Cap. Why don’t you and your gorgeous date stop by my penthouse for a bit? We could finally go over the papers you sent me, in person?” He winked, they discussed something more and then went away, his date bowing and trailing after him as well.

Steve claimed his seat again, and finally told you about the interrupter. “That was my good friend, Tony Stark, always in a hurry. I’ll introduce you to him when we meet him later.”

“I think I’ll be heading home; you need not worry about my introduction, I hardly think we’ll ever run into each other again.” His eyes narrowed and you clarified, “Me and Mr. Stark, I meant.”

That’s good, don’t associate yourself with more of his kind.

“He was so kind in inviting you though, it would be rude to refuse.”

“It’s already late, Steve. And I’ve never left Grace alone for a night yet. What if she’s antsy? What if she is bothered? What if she feels unsafe? She's only used to very few people, and after last week, I-” You had started the sentence hoping to use Grace as an excuse but every word of yours succeeded in making you more apprehensive.

The carnival night flashed in your mind, along with the nightmares and you started panicking even more. Your hands clammy, your dessert spoon fell in your lap as sought your phone in your purse, hoping to call Wanda for an update. You felt like a terrible mother, who left her child with a stranger, only a week after she suffered trauma, just to go on a date with a mobster.

Steve reached across the table and grabbed your fidgety hands and as you wriggled to get your hands free, he softly called your name. Voice stern but vocals gentle. Your blurry eyes snapped to meet his while he guided you to breathe deeply, in and out.

His firm hold convinced you to listen to him, you’d never free yourself of them otherwise.

When you had calmed a bit, he withdrew his hands and fetched his phone. Your thoughts slowed down, and you wondered if anyone here was judging you. Your little scene, mercifully, went unnoticed by the other affluent people dining here.

Steve handed you his phone where four colored frames rested, the screen showing you Grace and Sarah cuddled in a frilly, pink four poster where Wanda sat too, her lips moving.

The feed was live and the screen muted, both the toddlers’ eyes fluttering close slowly, on the bridge of sleep.

You handed the phone back to Steve and drank your water while he rubbed circles on the back of one of your hands. You never freaked out like you did right now, always collected and never giving into anxiety. What had happened to you?

Well, In your defense, you had never experienced a disaster either.

“The kids are safe; I’m never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

Your mind did catch the plural in his statement but you promised yourself you would not let it get that far and continued drinking your water, emptying the entire glass.

“The HD image you just saw was by cameras Tony recently developed. His technology is amazing, I’ll take you to his lab sometime.” You appreciated his attempt to redirect the topic but you also focused on how tech-savvy his friends were as well.

You hummed and agreed, trying to be ambiguous with your answer.

When you finished your dessert, you hoped he’d forget about his ‘friend’ Tony but to no avail.

“His penthouse is two floors above. He owns this hotel as well in case you didn’t notice.” He led you to the elevator as you recalled the Starks Group logo you saw earlier sometime.

Some AI named Jarvis opened the elevator doors for you in the living room of Tony’s penthouse. It was even more magnificent than the restaurant earlier, the place illuminated by several hues of different colours. Steve chuckled and strung you along, introducing you to a ginger-head named Pepper, who was Tony’s date earlier and went to search for his acquaintance.

She offered you wine but you politely declined, opting for water instead. She brought your glass to you from the extravagant kitchen and you both sat on the barstool there instead of the living room. Too anxious to say the wrong thing, you stayed quiet until her voice filled the deafening silence.

“So, Steve almost never brings dates around. You two serious?” She questioned, leaning towards you, waiting for some gossip, no doubt.

“Oh no! We aren’t dating. He just invited me for a friendly dinner. We merely met the other week.” You deliberately left out the part where there was bombing by crime families and attack on the common man.

“Honey, in the mob life, you don’t just introduce random people to the fam.”

Oh, she wasn’t being shy about the whole mob ordeal. It seemed weird to hear it from her, since you and Steve hadn’t used the word yet. Maybe he figured you already knew considering the circumstances you met in or how famous he was.

“We really aren’t romantically involved. This dinner was just a gesture of gratitude if I’m being truthful.”

She chuckled, as if you were a kid making stories and quizzed, “Gratitude for what?”

You trapped yourself into that one. You didn’t know how to answer her and your brain downright blanked. Surprisingly,, Steve came to your rescue and two voices interposed your conversation.

Steve called your name and as you turned to the men, he continued, “She’s the one who saved Sarah the other night. You know the story, Wilson probably got it printed.��

“Impressive, really. Hey, I’m Tony and I see you’ve already met Pepper, my fiancée.” He shook your hand and kissed your knuckles, much like Steve did earlier in the day. You bowed, smiled and mumbled a ‘nice to meet you as well’. They escorted you to the elevator and Tony continued.

“Well, it’s not everyday Steve brings brave and extraordinarily attractive women around. Welcome to the family, sweetie. She’s a keeper, Cap.” He winked while saying the last sentence and before you could correct him, Steve ushered you inside the elevator, bro-hugging him. As the doors closed, Pepper winked at you from behind Tony and a shudder ran through you.

Okay you had to make it clear, get on the same page.

As the elevator music filled the silence, you started, “Steve, look we aren’t-”, “I served in the army, that’s why Tony calls me Cap, short for captain.” And crudely got interrupted.

“I never wanted to get into the army, I thought people were fools to sacrifice the one life they got. But I went to make my mother’s dream a reality, I really loved her, you know? Sarah is named after her, my mother.”

His voice broke at the end and as much as you wanted to redirect onto your former topic, you couldn’t. This amiability of yours would be the death of you.

“She died alone in her bed; I was dispatched too far away to even make it back for her funeral.” He mumbled but you heard him clear as a sunny day, and he leaned back onto the wall for support while you awkwardly rubbed his shoulder to return the support he provided earlier during your mental breakdown.

He closed his eyes and gathered himself, taking deep breaths. As the elevator dinged, his eyes opened and he gave you a strained smile.

The car ride to his mansion was painfully silent, his mind too sidetracked to focus on harassing you again. With all that you went through today, you almost forgot about that.

His mansion was enormous, twenty guards stood outside and even more patrolled the lawn. He took you inside his house, the interior even more detailed and scenic than Tony’s temporary residence.

You just concentrated on swiftly getting Grace and Uber-ing back. As Steve showed you earlier, Grace and Sarah hugged and slept and it was a meticulous task to untangle their limbs without waking either of them up andnd get Grace with her back-pack. You thanked Wanda on the way out, hoping to avoid Steve but somehow he stood outside before you, leaning on his sleek black car. He opened the door for you before you could refuse the ride. You settled with Grace in the backseat itself, trying to be smart.

He just summoned one of his guards to drive and sat alongside you in the back. You didn’t let the annoyance at his clinginess show though. You just focused on Grace who drooled over your shoulder.

Hopefully, there won’t be any point of exposure to him ever again, your circles didn’t match, both social and professional. Your Venn diagrams didn’t overlap anywhere. This should be reason enough to avoid meeting ever again.

He didn’t try anything even this ride around. You doubted it was hardly because of the toddler or because of the driver. He did as he pleased, if he wanted to he could very well grope you. Luckily, he wasn't in the mood.

When you reached your dwelling, you stepped out hastily, thanking him in a whisper. You fumbled to get your keys out, but since everything you held slowed you down, he caught up with you without even trying.

He took and held Grace’s bag while you drew the keys out, Grace still on your hip. He handed you the bag back, “So this is it, I guess?”

“Yeah, tonight was a total delight. Thanks for the dinner and everything, really.” You put up your best façade, hoping to convince him.

“It was, thanks to you. The company matters the most.”

You awkwardly chuckled and you sensed him leaning in, his eyes flickering shut. Your eyes closed as you turned your head to avoid him, so that his lips would peck your cheek.

They never came.

Your eyes opened to find his and he chuckled, leaning in once again swiftly, catching you off guard this time. He didn’t meet your lips though, he kissed the corner of your mouth, lips overlapping for a fraction of skin.

“In due time, baby.” He stepped back and strolled to his car leisurely, content in his own world.

You opened your door and slammed it shut, the peck feeling wrong on so many levels. It felt more sensual than a lover’s kiss, leaving room for intimacy and longing.

Your thoughts ran a hundred kilometers an hour, the most absurd but nauseatingly true being, this was a date and it was not your last encounter.

Steve smirked outside in his car, the dinner an absolute success in his opinion. Tonight just made him feel that you both were more than compatible for each other. You needing him during your mental breakdown, him relaxing under your shy touch, Tony’s approval, not that important though, and your anxiety for Grace was the best part, because he, more often than he’d like to admit, fussed about Sarah the same way, agonizing and fretting her well being.

A text lit up his black screen and his grin widened even more if possible.

‘The Stark cameras are up and working, Sir.’

817 notes · View notes

leqclerc · 2 years

Note

(i'm gonna save the reblog for the next time i actually post a ~real fic), but in the meantime, for the fanfic ask meme: F, G, K, N, & U (streetlightsky)

You 🤝🏻 me putting stuff until we've posted a ~real fic

F: Care to share a favorite hurt/comfort fic?

Oddly, this was actually harder than expected? Going off of tags alone I came up empty, but in an unconventional way, I think green gloves by tetrapod could be feasibly considered a hurt/comfort fic; as in, two lonely, increasingly troubled people finding some semblance of solace in each other, however briefly. I'm in love with the introspective nature of the piece and all the descriptions of emotions. It feels incredibly raw and vulnerable and intimate, and it's unlike anything I've read in a long time, so, yeah. Also an unlikely candidate but replica by thermocline hits some of the same beats for me.

G: Care to share a favorite crack fic?

This is even harder because crack fic isn't a very popular genre in this fandom; or in general, across fic, I think? So I'm just gonna go with this one. Worth checking out for the unconventional format alone. Also, tabloid fodder.

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

Oh god 🙈 I share a lot of unhinged and/or angsty ideas in DMs but I'm not always committed to writing them - some are barely more than throwaway "hey imagine if..." kind of remarks that never really go anywhere.

Out of the ones I kind of started privately dabbling in in Docs...one of them involves gaslighting, drugging, abduction, and generally shitty behaviour from work colleagues and higher-ups. Another one deals with kidney failure, organ donation and transplants. Oh, and there was also a vaguely Orphan Black inspired AU in which Charles assumes his recently-deceased-in-tragic-cirumstances clone's identity as part of a con, becomes romantically entangled with Seb, and unravels the mystery of why (Perceval) ended his seemingly perfect life. So. Yeah. It gets...interesting sometimes.

N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?

All of them? 👉🏻👈🏻

My current main WIP, set during ~the initial lockdown from March to about June of 2020. I think it's a really interesting, bizarre period of time and I love the idea of exploring Seb and Charles's developing relationship through long-distance - they end up calling, texting, Zoom-ing. Then on top of the isolation and lack of racing and uncertainty about the season Charles also has to deal with Seb's contract not being renewed and the guilt and helplessness that stems from it and, you know, his own growing feelings for Seb; Seb, whose departure from the team is now both inevitable and imminent. I'm still really attached to the idea but struggling with the execution since it's so introspective, there's not a lot of action since it's just a lot of Charles being stuck indoors and going about his life in a really mundane way, the tediousness of everyday life occasionally punctuated by an online race or an interview or whatever. I'm trying to find a way to find a way to convey the loneliness and lack of direction without necessarily making it feel like a chore to get through the fic, so, yeah. Also, that one babyfic I really, really want to write and put out there but I'm struggling with how to...formulate it in a way that does the idea justice, especially considering it's a trope people generally don't care for at best, and actively dislike at worst.

U: A pairing you might like to write for, but haven’t tried yet.

As bizarre as it might sound...I'm kind of intrigued by the idea of Charles/Xavi? Okay, so I've found I'm an incurable monoshipper in this fandom and I sort of have a one pairing per driver limitation in my head - let's be real, nothing really captivates me the way Sebchal does, so it doesn't feel right to pair them off with other people; then again, I'm not really invested enough in other drivers to write about some of the other existing pairings out there, so it's all a bit of a stalemate. Anyway, the relationship between drivers and their respective race engineers are definitely very intriguing, just the whole nature of it, the dependence, the trust that's needed - the race engineer is the only one that's "in the car" with the driver, and they rely on information from them to race as best as they can, so the potential for tension and pining is there. They also spend a lot of time together - during team briefings, in the garage, before the race, etc. So there's a lot of "excuses" for alone time, growing closer, becoming more and more familiar with each other. After a win, when emotions are running high, they share in the joy together. And yet there hasn't been a "big" driver/race engineer ship recognised by the fandom since Felipe and Rob way back when. Lewis and Bono have a bit of a following and I've definitely seen some fics, but still not anywhere close to the popularity of driver/driver ships. For Charles/Xavi in particular I could see them sort of...falling into it. Maybe Charles is frustrated with the way his season is going; maybe this is 2019 and he's frustrated by Seb's "unavailability" and the way they're dancing around each other, and Xavi's there, and he's soaking up his joy and his anger and his disappointment, and he's dependable and he's kind and, well. Maybe it's one-sided, maybe it means more for Xavi that it does for Charles, who is still pursuing Seb - both emotionally and physically, on track, following like a shadow. But Charles still cares for Xavi, still considers him a friend - a close one, at that, someone he can be vulnerable around and put his trust in - even if he doesn't realise the depth of Xavi's feelings. So it all ends up being this tense emotionally messy love triangle-but-not-really. Or maybe they just sleep together because it helps Charles keep a "clear head", especially in a season where they're blessedly competitive and he's actually fighting for something. I don't know, there's a lot of ways this could go, but it's a niche little pairing that I think could be worth mining and exploring a bit. Will I ever commit to writing it, beyond an odd drabble? I guess we'll see.

#replies #streetlightsky #thanks for asking lovely <3 #fic tag #writing tag #.longpost

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may-day-voice · 3 years

Text

Haunting Sour Notes

Denki Kaminari's Timeline | 172732014

please do not repost, but you have permission to reblog :)

• Watch/ Listen on YouTube: https://youtu.be/iGM2u8mraCY

• Read on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1059472971-denki-kaminari-pro-hero-au-172732014-haunting-sour

"Why won't you tell me?" questioned Kaminari, following you around his apartment while you paced with heavy steps. "You've been showing signs lately."

"Signs?" you retorted with a derogatory smirk. "Me being scared of storms is a sign?"

"No, I mean, Mon Ange-"

"Kaminari," you interrupted, your tone stern. "I messed up yesterday. Tell that to the Head Agent."

He watched as you slumped onto one of his armchairs in the large space, looking away from him while you stared out from one of the large windows overlooking part of Endor Docks. The morning was calm while you slept, but as soon as you woke, he found you distant almost immediately. You refused to say a word, not a peep, as if you were still mute.

And then, this argument, empty of reason.

"I'm going to report all that I know from last night," explained Kaminari, soft and calm. "And I know you didn't mess up, but you have to tell me these things about you. Things that I still have no clue about."

"It's better you didn't know," you replied, still with your eyes away from his.

"Why? I can't help you if you keep blocking me out."

"Then take me back to the Commission. Put me under arrest. What good am I if I'm not helping your case?"

"You're a good person, I know you are!" yelled Kaminari in retaliation, his frustration growing.

"How do you know?"

"You took that blow for me back when we first met. Not any villain would do that. You may have your reasons, but that shows me that you are willing to put yourself on the line when it counts. And here I am, trying to understand you outside of the fame and the secrecy, and you-" Kaminari stopped himself, holding his tongue while he stared at your upsetment, seeing the glint of tears that forced their way in the corner of your angry eyes. He could see you holding back before he was about to spill, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves.

"You told me back at that golf range-"

"Putt-putt."

"- that you wanted to make amends. Why won't you let me help you do that?"

You looked into Kaminari's eyes, filled with confusion and anger while the frustration in his voice was evident. Of course, anyone who would be treated this way would have every right to feel these waves of emotions, but this was your life. A life shouldered with the haunting memories of your actions, and of the people you surrounded yourself with. At the time, you thought nothing of it, but now, these memories were not even worthy for someone like Kaminari to hear.

"They're not yours to shoulder," you answered. "And I'm more afraid of you getting involved further in the matter."

"What do you mean? I'm already involved," explained Kaminari. "I know enough to understand that you're trying to stop the Front, and that this General is someone to be feared."

"But you don't know the implications of knowing her. I don't want you to get hurt."

"So, it's a she?" he asked, only earning an exasperated sigh from you.

"I've said too much," you mumbled under your breath, turning your eye away from him once more. You held back the tears that you felt pricked your eyes, spotting the murkiness cloud your vision a little. You rubbed your eyes in an attempt to rid them, but they only continued to spill.

Kaminari hesitated with his next few thoughts, eyeing your expression and the cross look on your face.

"Speaking of which, aside from all of this, there was something else that bothered me," he started, keeping an eye on your reaction. "Last night, you wouldn't say a word. Or, you couldn't. Can you tell me what that was about?"

You bit your lip, hoping the sharp pain would hold off the tears that spilled from your eyes. Every word he spoke felt like a knife in your chest. You recalled last night, almost vividly, innocently writing those words in paper. The fear returned, like it did long ago. You turned your eye away from Kaminari knowing that the overwhelming sadness rippled under your skin.

"Are you sick?" He asked.

"Non" you whispered.

"But last night-"

"Forget last night. I was a kid, I didn't know any better."

"That's not true."

"Will you stop?" You turned to face him, your eyes cross and your anger now swelling inside, replacing the pain and guilt. "Stop the questions."

Kaminari stared into your eyes, fueled by hurt and anger as if he had done an injustice. Confused by your sudden outburst, he slowly approached you, his hand out to reach yours until you violently pulled it away.

"Just go," you ordered. "Leave me under house arrest and go do your job." You turned your back on him, your eyes now staring out towards the docks, watching boats in the distance.

Kaminari said nothing. You heard nothing before the sound of footsteps made their way towards the sliding front door, shutting in the empty apartment. You held onto your arms, trying to comfort yourself before you sank into one of his chairs, head on your lap, silently weeping.

Kaminari made his way to his car, seating himself in the driver's seat before he turned the ignition. He was silent, still processing your reaction and how distressed you were with him. He sighed heavily in exasperation, recalling his treatment of the situation beforehand when he slammed his palms into his driving wheel.

"Dammit," he cursed under his breath.

RING

"Hello?"

"Hey Kaminari, catch you at a bad time?" Asked Sero on the other line.

Kaminari eyed his front door, still his mind on you. "No, was about to head to the Public Hero Commission building."

"I need to talk with you about a few things first. Meet me in the city's park in half an hour?"

Kaminari thought about his request for a moment. He hadn't heard anything from Sero since the mission last night, recalling his sudden leave of absence. Perhaps something had happened during all the mania. Maybe another clue in this mess of a situation.

"I can be there in twenty if you can," advised Kaminari.

"No rush man, but yeah, gotta talk."

Kaminari pulled his car out before taking it off from the docks, heading straight into Musatafu. If he wasn't going to get to the bottom of this one way, he hoped he could find success through other means instead, even if that meant not involving you in the process.

Besides, there was a lot he and Sero needed to talk about, he thought.

——

Hours had passed since the argument and you had filled your time reading books for who knew how many rounds you had given them the light of day. However, none of them took your thoughts away from Kaminari's concern. Yes, you lashed out violently at any mention of your past - a thing you had tried to bury many times before, and thought had succeeded. Yet the events of last night, of your fears, your illness, your childish reactions to everything Kaminari was able, it felt hurtful.

The guilt returned knowing of your spiteful tone. And yet you heard nothing from Kaminari. He only left you alone. The thought of this morning replayed in your mind like a broken record, as cliche as it felt. It only made that knife sink deeper in your chest, one made by your own doing.

You knew Kaminari was right, that you had to tell him one day why you did what you did, with the secrets, the charade, and your insistent need to run away. The pain of knowing how many souls you had harmed along the way seared in your mind, like a branding that had scarred the very nature of your life. You were a thing, a tool to be weaponized, even so that whatever goals and purposes you thought were true, were now a stain.

This bodyguard business wouldn't last forever. The Commission would have their way eventually, leaving you with nothing left. Leaving the warmth and comfort of Kaminari's hospitality, patience, and determination, despite his almost goofy and dorky disposition.

Sunlight had now passed over the docks, casting a small shadow along Kaminari's apartment. The skylight itself created a spotlight of the sun's rays in the centre of his lounge. Everyday you've stayed here, you would often stand in the centre of the skylight, pretending it to be centre stage, twirling in its radiance. However, it burned your eyes today, still sore from the tears that sprung after Kaminari had left.

A moment of clarity cleared your mind, as painful as it felt, before coming to the conclusion you needed for yourself and for the sake of Kaminari; a man who had offered you a home despite it being under the Commission's jurisdiction; a man who had only accepted you for who you were, regardless of the actions you had taken in your dreadful past.

A man who comforted you, who tried every means to understand you.

"Sorry, roi de la fee," you whispered to yourself, swimming in your head from all of the painful thoughts-

SMASH

Glass shattered onto your skin while your arms shielded you from the shards that sprayed from the windows. It happened all so sudden, immediately taking to your feet to flee from the now destroyed windowpane. Outside on the docks, a group of men stomped into the apartment, rushing towards you with open hands.

"Grab them!" Yelled one before you felt their hands clutch onto your clothes and skin, grabbing hold of you while they slowly dragged you outside, fighting against your resistance.

"Let go of me!" You yelled, slapping one in the face, while kicking furiously in the air.

"Quickly before someone spots us!"

Amongst the chaos, you pulled against their strength, your flailing limbs swinging violently in the air hoping they would hit anyone nearby. Mid-swing in your violent resistance, you elbowed your assailant in the gut, enough that winded him to release you from his hold. You didn't think, you just ran, scrambling back into the apartment while being chased by the men behind you. You huffed and panicked, pushing any large object in their way to slow them down, whether it were chairs, lamps, or anything of the sort. You only had eyes for the front sliding doors, crashing into it before you pulled against its weight to slide it open.

The spill of the sunlight caught your eye first, blinding your already sore eyes from your tears until a silhouette painted against it, blocking your exit. The height caught you off guard until you recognized the man's long top hat and soon his mask once your eyes adjusted to the light.

"Long time no see, Sirene," he cooed playfully before a glint of something caught your eye in his fingers. You heard the smirk in his voice, turning around to flee from him. But as if time had slowed, you felt your body pull into a void, sucked into the familiar glass marble before you crashed into its glass surface.

"Let me go!" You yelled, your voice bouncing off from the walls, slamming your fists against the thick panes. "Laisse-moi sortir!"

The large shadows skewed by the glass shifted every so often while you felt the inertia of Compress' movements holding onto the marble you now resided in.

"So Dabi's little pet was right after all," he commented, his voice loud yet muffled by the glass. "I should congratulate them on their deduction skills. It's not often we find defectors."

You still slammed your fist fervently against the glass, hoping that you could break through, though you knew it was futile to try.

"Ne me ramène pas!"

Your cries were ignored when it suddenly went dark. Surrounded by the black, the sound of shifting and crunching glass echoed loudly before the rumble of a car's ignition reverberated through the glass space.

You felt truly lost.

How did they find you? What went wrong? In the dark all of these questions found their way to your head, recalling the few times you had carefully managed to keep yourself under wraps. Hiding in plain sight, behind a moniker and a pre-generated face. Making use of the fame to counter every move the Paranormal Liberation Front would possibly be able to exploit. Yet in turn, you exploited others in order to right your wrongs.

And then, there was Kaminari. The few times he had been warm and welcoming. The times he had shown his vulnerability, and his strength. The times he had trusted in you by sharing a part of his life with his friends, all Pro-Heroes to a degree. Everything about Kaminari was like a home, now only realizing this in the dark.

You felt your tears return, trapped wherever Compress had held you captive. The car ride was a one way trip, back to your past, back to the Front, back to the cold table where the General would examine you again, and again, and again.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... Please forgive me, Kaminari."

——

Kaminari stood by his warehouse apartment, staring blankly at the shattered glass and rummaged furniture inside. Police tape surrounded the building while crime scene investigators carefully traversed through the mess, numbering evidence after evidence of the now labeled crime scene.

His meeting with Sero was more a cross-reference of notes on a few topics of discussion - Sero's current predicament with the thief as well as his encounter with Seek, at least before either of them would report it to their agencies and the Commission. However, Kaminari's eyes loosely scanned the floor, eyeing the fallen armchair, the glass and the open front door on the other side across the way, but you were nowhere to be found.

"I'm sorry dude," slowly spoke Sero, eyeing Kaminari sadly and unsure what else to say.

"No, don't say that," he retorted with a shaky voice. "This is my responsibility. I should've put the anklet back on. I didn't think." He stared into the apartment, spotting the device still sitting on the corner of his kitchen counter inside. His body trembled with anger and regret, holding back tears of his own while he recollected the argument this morning.

"Chargebolt, thank you for your cooperation in this matter," spoke a fellow agent, her voice calming. "I'm sorry about-"

"No, what have you found?" Interrupted Kaminari, his eyes straining from spilling tears.

"We've retrieved your surveillance footage for what it was able to capture and came across this during the invasion." The agent held a pad, its screen revealing the front end of Kaminari's apartment while the event played. He watched you run through the floor towards the front door, disappearing out of frame until moments after a familiar silhouette appeared, his top hat clearly recognizable.

"Wait a minute! That's Mr. Compress," he exclaimed, grabbing the pad from the agent, glaring at the screen.

"When did you ever have a surveillance system installed?" Questioned Sero beside him.

"We arranged it when we hired him for his services," answered the agent. "It was... precautionary."

"Right."

"How did the Front find out about this?" Questioned Kaminari, his voice shocked.

"We're trying to determine that now," immediately replied the agent, taking the pad back from Kaminari. "But it would be worth noting that we also spotted this onscreen as well." Taken back by the agent's words, she rewound the digital footage on screen, playing through the end of Kaminari's argument up until the moment the anklet began blinking a light. "Someone switched on the anklet's tracker."

A silence was shared between Kaminari and the agent, however Sero looked between the two, confused on what revelation occurred amidst the conversation. "What's so strange about that?" He asked. "Kaminari would've wanted to know where they were."

"I didn't turn it on," explained Kaminari. "Because that mechanism doesn't work unless the anklet was already attached to the person in question. Why would I turn a tracker on if it wasn't on their ankle?"

A multitude of thoughts ran through his head, his eyes darting while he mulled over possible reasons before-

"Who else knows?" he asked, his eyes stern while he stared at the agent.

"Um... only the three of us," she replied, a little taken back by his forwardness.

"Good, keep it that way. This may be an internal affair. I want you only to report to me about this and no one else, got it?"

"But sir, I can't-"

"Please, just trust me," reasoned Kaminari. "If Red Riot and Persona trust your judgement, then I do too." He held his golden gaze on the agent before she nodded, taking the pad and leaving to continue the investigation. His thoughts mingled about, hoping it wasn't the worst case scenario that he imagined in his head. By instinct, he reached for his phone, searching on speed-dial to immediately bring it to his ear.

"Wait, who're you calling?" Asked Sero, slightly anxious of Kaminari's sudden burst of energy.

"Shinsou, we need to speak with his partner about this. They've been following that guy's trail this whole time, right?" explained Kaminari, still waiting.

"Yeah, but how is that going to help?"

To be frank, Kaminari didn't know how to answer that question, but his anger needed to be redirected somehow. He felt the guilt weigh heavily on his shoulders, imagining all of the scenarios that could have played out if only he had made these seemingly available decisions. But time was now against him.

"What is it, Kaminari?" spoke an exhausted tone on the other line.

"Shinsou, we need to meet up. Sero and I have some information that may be important to your case," explained Kaminari over the phone call, his eyes on Sero only to notice his reaction, slightly fervent to quiet Kaminari's request.

"Really? Which one? I've got my hands full with the Tartarus case, and Kitten..." Shinsou's voice trailed at the thought, leaving the phone silent in Kaminari's ear. "Is it about that guy?"

"Yeah, it's about that guy last night," confirmed Kaminari, his eyes still on Sero who had now resigned to Kaminari's actions. "But something else has come up. I'm sure you're going to have a field day with this."

#denki kaminari #kaminari #kaminari x reader #bnha #bnha au #pro heroes #bnha angst #bnha fanfiction

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bardqueenofgallifrey · 6 years

Note

listen I don't wanna get in an argument or anything I just wanna say that you can dislike reylo all you like, no one's saying you have to like it, but when you reblog posts about it being bad cos it's abusive etc. it comes off like you're being slightly hypocritical - you've talked about liking spuffy in the past, and of course twissy. they're equally as fucked up as reylo, if not moreso. again you don't have to like reylo but why guilt people about it given your own tastes?

like I really wanna stress that this isn't hate or anything, I'm just genuinely wondering why you want to shame this one particular ship when it's clear you like some problematic ships of your own, and I'm sure you wouldn't want to have people blogging about how nasty they are all the time. it's your blog obviously, and you can totally do what you like with it, I'm just ... why shame these particular shippers?

No, I mean, it’s a good point to make, so I’m glad you brought this up.

For me, it’s about how the ships are presented.

Best Enemies is obviously fucked up, they’re presented more as enemies and the romantic reading of it is more on the fan side than the canon side - their strong friendship is canon, and the romantic hints are there, but more in a wink wink nudge nudge sort of fashion. I would not say they’re painted as a romantic ship very much at all, much less any kind of romantic ideal.

Spuffy is a bit trickier. It’s very much painted as unhealthy when it starts out - Spike becomes creepily obsessed with her and has obviously done a load of terrible shit (although I think some people forget that Spike, for a long while, doesn’t have a soul, and should really be being judged alongside Angelus as opposed to Angel, you know? I’ve always thought that the fact that soulless Spike was capable of any kind of empathy at all, let alone the rather large amount we see in him alongside his more evil and selfish traits, has rather huge implications about how theoretically good the real Spike is, but that’s a whole different discussion). Buffy also uses him in a multitude of ways, and it’s a general mess, but it’s portrayed as such! And when Spike crosses that line, and tries that really bad thing, it’s shown as fucking serious and it sends him off to atone. And he does atone, but away from her. He goes away and tries to better himself so that he might deserve her, but ironically once possessing his soul, stops trying to push himself on her because obviously now he sees that isn’t remotely okay. And his love, by that point, is incredibly unselfish and very much without any kind of expectation. So I’ve always seen Spuffy as starting off as incredibly unhealthy, and actually being a very rare case of convincingly becoming something passably healthy, if still a bit complex.

Now, of course, theoretically Reylo could go a similar path. But the difference is how the fandom and canon treat it. It’s the textbook “trash dude meets the heroine and tries to get her on his side and she’s adamantly against it and people read that as romantic potential and that this girl can fix him”. It crops up in loads of places, and I suffered several seasons of Captain Swan in OUAT following this nonsense as well, and also the Bellamy and Clarke shippers in the 100. In these cases, it’s not usually being presented as a problematic ship, in the way that Twissy and Spuffy are self aware. It’s presented as grand and sweeping and romantic when it shouldn’t be, or just isn’t.

The whole “tortured bad boy gets fixed by the golden heroine” thing is just... yikes. (I know Spuffy comes close, but Spike ultimately fixes himself.)

That’s not to say that they can’t work when the writing is good, I’ve just rarely found it to be the case. (Adrian and Sydney, from the Bloodlines book series, are a good example of it working, even though Adrian isn’t quite a bad boy, and only has one particularly bad action in his past of any significance, and again, it’s an instance of him bettering himself because he sees it’s the right thing to do, though it is partly because he finally has somebody who believes he might actually succeed.)

Obviously this is all fairly fine line stuff, and entirely my own perspective, but that’s basically how I hold the disdain for Reylo that I do while shipping other questionable ships. I hope it makes sense? Maybe I am hypocritical, a bit, but the distinction exists to me, and makes sense to me, even if maybe it doesn’t to anyone else.

Like, if the series had been written completely differently, maybe Reylo could have worked. Just like how maybe Captain Swan could have worked if they hadn’t done what I consider to be the worst written/most forced romantic dynamic between main characters I’ve seen in a TV show. But as it is, with people reading scenes of interrogation and torture as sexual tension or romance? No thanks.

#asks #shipping #anti reylo #spuffy #best enemies #anti captain swan #anti bellarke #my ships #i say shit #goldenaltar

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radreactions · 7 years

Note

Hey I love your blog!!! It's really great and I love to see what you post! Can I make a request? I don't want to sound like every body else who wants to make requests but I'm socially awkward. Can you maybe do all companions reacting to m or f SoulSurvivor proposing marriage to them? I'm sorry if you have already done it. Anyways please keep up the great work! I'm happy to see one that isn't just reblogs now days!❤️

Thank you so much! I know the blog’s been a bit dormant lately but I’m trying to find time to write for you lovelies again and encouragement like this always helps a lot so thanks friend!

Cait - She stares at them with wide eyes and her mouth slightly agape in shock. Sole is proposing to her? What the fuck? This had to be some kind of cruel joke. They could have anyone in the Commonwealth so why the fuck would they be proposing to her of all people? “Nice try, Sole. But I’m not fallin’ for one o’ yer jokes.” She goes to walk away, but immediately stops when she realises her words sparked that flash of hurt in their eyes. “Wait, are ya serious? Ya actually want to marry me?” When they nod and tell her exactly what they feel for her, she feels herself go a bit dizzy and has to kneel down in front of them to stop from keeling over face first. She stares into their eyes, seeing everything she needs to see within them, before murmuring “Yes” and immediately grinning at the feeling the amazing feeling the realisation sparked in her chest.

Codsworth - ERROR>CANNOT PROCESS VOICE/DIALOGUE INTERPHASE>REQUESTING CLARIFICATION “Sir/mum? C-can you repeat that please?” They were proposing. Actually proposing. To him. His optical units flex uselessly, expanding and shrinking while his metal appendages flutter at his sides. The Pride of General Atomics felt like anything but as he stared at Sole and processed their words. But before he knew it, he was already talking. “Sir/mum, I-I…yes.”

Curie - “Why are you kneeling, monsieur/madam? Are you injured?” She doesn’t understand at first, but when Sole pulls out the golden ring and gazes up at her with the cutest smile on their face and a question in their eyes, it clicks. “Oh! You are proposing to me?” Her hand flies to her mouth as her eyes start brimming with glittering tears. “Yes! Yes I will marry you, my love!” She enfolds Sole in the biggest hug, pressing delicate kisses everywhere on their face before letting them slip the beautiful ring on her finger.

Danse - He would give almost anything to have been asked instead to recite the Brotherhood’s initiation pledge, or hell, even Scribe Neriah’s biological reports on her pet specimens. But who was he kidding? He’s wanted this ever since he first told Sole that he loved them. Before answering, he’d hastily climb out of his power armour and take Sole’s hand in his while looking them in the eye. “Yes.”

Deacon - Two eyebrows raise high above his glasses as he watches Sole get down on one knee and reveal the gleaming golden ring. For the first time in his life, he’s left completely speechless. He doesn’t make a move or a sound for a few moments while he tries to wrap his head around the prospect of marrying the person he loves. But when his mind inevitably reboots, the grin on his face is all the answer Sole needs before slipping on the ring.

Dogmeat - Head tilts and a curious sniff of the ring. What on earth did Sole want him to do with this tiny, awfully shiny thing? He runs off to bring back his favourite big red ball, plopping it down at Sole’s feet and looking up at them expectantly. Now that’s a toy worthy of the pupper’s attention.

Gage - Marriage had never crossed his mind. Ever. But the prospect seems so good when offered from Sole’s sweet lips. So much so, that he can’t help himself as he pulls them up from their kneel, pulls them flush with his body and presses his lips soundly to theirs. By the way he squeezes their ass affectionately, they have his answer.

Hancock - Despite knowing that this is all he could ever have wanted in his life – a person to love, to come home to, to be his purpose for living – he’d still feel unworthy of them. Yes on the outside he doesn’t give a damn about being a ghoul, a murderer, a junky, but on the inside, he can’t lie to himself about how Sole surely deserves better than him. But they were asking him and everything Sole says and does is not without them meaning to, so he must be doing something right to have won their heart. The thought makes him smile widely and gives him the courage to lean down and kiss them softly, whispering his answer on their lips.

MacCready - He’d start blushing like a lighthouse when Sole gets down on one knee and presents the golden ring for him, their smile making him sway where he stands. For the first time in a long time, his usually steady hands start shaking like a junkie on psycho. He takes a shuddering breath, wipes at his eyes that totally are not watering, and musters up the biggest smile. “Hell yeah I’ll marry you.”

Nick Valentine - For him, everything and anything romantic died back with the human Nick Valentine so many years ago. So it was a shock when he was lucky enough to find Sole, but he’s even more stunned when they finally propose to him. On the one hand, he wants to say no – they need to find someone better for themselves than him. Someone human, someone warm and actually snuggle-able for cold nights and rainy days. But then he realised that to say no to them would be selfishly satisfying his guilt for being a synth, because after all, they already do all those things the human Nick would do and who is he to question Sole’s love for him. So with an upturn of his lips and newly brightened gaze, he’ll swipe off his fedora, lean down and whisper against their soft lips “Yes.”

Piper Wright - She gasps and freezes when she sees the ring, her hand covering her mouth as she stares at them. “Blue. Blue what are you doing?” Her voice shakes and her vision goes all blurry when they say the three words that threatened to turn her world upside down in the most wonderful of ways. Blue wants to marry her. Her. The most annoying, hard headed, troublesome person in the entire Commonwealth and they – a wonderful, beautiful, perfect human being – want to marry her? “Blue,” She forces out on a shuddering whisper. “I love you so much…but, are you sure? Like, really sure? I mean…I’m me and you’re you and…I…” Was rambling. She was rambling. Great. But the way they look at her makes her weak and when they reaffirm their feelings for her, it’s settled. “Yes!” She squeaks, throwing herself at them and enfolding them in a bone-crushing hug. But then she realises something and pulls back to look them in the eye. “Shots not telling Nat.”

Preston Garvey - Tears. Oh so many tears. He’d laugh a little, cry a little and most definitely scoop Sole up in the biggest, tightest hug he could while murmuring “Yes” over and over again in their ear. He never knew he could smile so much and he most certainly never expected the giant hole in his heart to be sewn shut just by the single most important person in the Commonwealth speaking three little, beautiful words to him.

Strong - He gets a little irritated, what with Sole trying awfully hard to squeeze on this tiny and very breakable little shiny piece of what he could make out was most likely a piece of garbage they’re always collecting. “STOP, TINY HUMAN!” After being badgered by Sole a long time afterwards, he’ll relent to wearing the damn thing around his neck. Although the exact significance him wearing it to Sole is still lost on him, he’ll make sure he doesn’t lose it.

X6-88 - When he realised just what it was Sole was doing, he’d have to bite his lip to keep it from trembling. He knew what they shared together was special, but marriage? To Sole? Only to them? Hell yeah. He had no idea how badly he wanted it until the word was out of his mouth on a barely audible breath “Yes.”

#fallout 4 #companions react #cait #curie #codsworth #danse #deacon #dogmeat #hancock #maccready #gage #nick valentine #piper wright #preston garvey #strong #x6-88

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