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#it was snowing so maybe that was too much for my computer?

horusmenhosetix · 10 months

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My ts3 game crashed for the first time and i'm sad now ;w; Not sure what exactly caused it as well so that's fun. Going to check for mod conflicts and move them to a different world because I can't remember if this is the routing fixed version of sunset valley or not.

#ts3 why #i was having fun #it was snowing so maybe that was too much for my computer?#i had them go out to town while it was snowing

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sashi-ya · 6 months

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東京 NIGHTS mini event

𝑨 𝑫𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑲, 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑹𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑵 𝑻𝑶𝑶 ㅤㅤ 𓂃 ࣪˖ trafalgar law x f! reader

⤹˚ synopsis. would you invite your work colleague Law for ramen after some drinks at the bar?

requested by: @leftladyluminary ➡ May I request Law + A drink after work in a little bar of Shinjuku Golden Gai with a fem reader maybe a little nsfw (or completely lol) tw: MNDI. alcohol usage. nami x vivi heavily implied. abusive coworkers. law saving the night. smut with a "lot" of "plot". mutual pinning that both realized about it just now. oral. nipple play. vag sex. unprotected sex. creampie implied. did they eat the ramen? who knows. The bar does exist! it's the Bar Coo at Shinjuku Golden Gai! same as the train station (Yamanote Line, from Shibuya to Ueno) wc: 4.7k (sowwy) masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤI need sleep. I need sleep. I need sleep “(Name), come with us to the izakaya! Let’s have some beers!” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤI just want to go home… “Law is coming too, it’s a miracle!” ㅤLaw? Law? I think I can afford yet another night of barely three hours sleep…

ㅤ“I’ll be there in a minute, let me turn off my computer and grab my coat!”

It’s not new information that your jobs are overexploiting you, working for such big company as the Don Quijote chain requires a lot. It is also not new information that once in a while -almost every time- you need to go have some drinks with your colleagues and bosses… because if you don’t, you aren’t engaging enough in that “work family” nobody likes, but everyone pretends to love.

There was a certain colleague, however, who always finds ways to sneak and never get to the bar with you… and that man, precisely, is the man of your dreams. He doesn’t know, and you are sure you shouldn’t tell him, as him is no other than the boss’ nephew.

Trafalgar Law, a tall man with an unfriendly façade but definitely handsome features. Or more than that, you could say. His eyes sometimes shine golden like the earrings he wear, and sometimes silver like the winter lights in Roppongi. He is covered in tattoos, a pretty unique characteristic for being an employee but a lot more logical if you think a little further about his Uncle. Nobody can say it out loud, but all of you know… they are most probably part of the Yakuza.

Despite that, you couldn’t care a less… Law has been your crush since the day you watch him walk into the office so carefree.

It’s a cold night, winter is coming faster than expected. It always does. November ends up quickly, and the first snows begin to tint everything in pristine white. Your long coat covers your body up to your ankles, as well as Law’s black one. You watch him walk, in silence. Most of your coworkers always try to rip words from his mouth, but he is not really interested in engaging in any conversations.

You watch his tattooed fingers scrolling through his phone, as all of you walk the streets of Shinjuku. The Golden Gai awaits for you in their little old Izakayas, all packed within a narrow passage of warm lights, and flickering signs.

“You are staring way too much, (Name)” Nami, one of your coworkers whispers.

You widen your eyes… “Is it that noticeable?”

“It is, but don’t worry… we all think the same, he is hot but also out of reach. I mean, maybe not for you, that is. You are more than beautiful but remember where he is coming from… be careful” she says, being pure honesty with you. She is only trying to protect you. And Nami is completely right, you should be careful with Law.

You smile at her, and both cuddle in each other’s arm grabbing until one of your colleagues chimes and ask the rest if it would be ok to try for nothing a certain bar that looks a little… secret -suspicious, too-.

“Coo bar? It looks weird… but the painting on the door makes it look pretty interesting” you think, waiting for them to knock on that painted wooden door that reminds you somehow to Van Gogh’s style.

A little window slides open, and a pair of black slanted eyes scan you all. They close the little gate and immediately after the door opens welcoming all of you inside.

Law allows everyone to walk pass first, while his eyes scan the surroundings. You, of course, are not the exception.

“Please, girls” he says, paying special attention to your burning cheeks. Nami, who is not really interested in men, simply smile, and walks inside the bar. You, remain a little bit more lost in his golden eyes, but ultimately walk inside too.

You were mostly sure he wouldn’t even put a foot inside, and rather walk away once all of you were unaware. But tonight, it was different, he stayed.

The inside of the tiny bar looks more like an old Japanese living room transformed into a restaurant. The walls are made of wood, and there are many random things hanging from them. Old maps, old posters, photographs, even a big hamster plush that looks as old as you.

The scent of yakiniku fills the ambience, and your stomachs growl with the simple thought of tasting that salty and sweet meat grilled right in front of you.

All of you get into the biggest table you could find, but the tight will be fit nonetheless. You, who always chose to sit last, this time had to move a little to the side. The man of long legs, and tattooed hands decided to sit right next to you.

“Are you comfortable, Law-san?” you ask, trying to make enough room for him to be sitting comfortably.

“Yes, thank you (Name)-ya” he says, kindly than you have ever listened him spoke.

You smile, softly, looking down at your fidgeting fingers.

Soon enough a friendly waitress comes ready to take your order. Of course not before putting the so awaited portable grill in the middle of the table.

The more meat, the better. All of you ask for it, and a beer each… that you are sure it will turn in more than three.

The conversation bases in gossiping about the office, nothing really deep and most of the topics all end up in laughter. Law, however, doesn’t really laugh and you are sure he is not even listening… he is just pretending to.

You take swift looks at him, glancing with the side of your eye at the tattoos of his hands; at how his phone screen shines constantly with more and more notifications. He must be a very required man, and most probably has a lover already if not more than one.

Of course, you are not an unpopular woman either. And most of your male coworkers always try their -non efficient, and pretty cringey- seductive tricks with you the moment a drop of alcohol reaches the tip of their tongues.

“(Name)! here, I grilled this one for you!” one of them say, using the clamps to pass you a piece of meat.

“Oh, thank you…” you murmur, receiving the food in your plate. A thing you shouldn’t have done as that -simple smelly monkey- man, thinks you want everything from him for just accepting a piece of tiny meat. -as tiny as his dick, probably-

Most of them also offer you to serve you more alcohol, as ordering for a glass turned into “bring us the bottle, it’s faster and cheaper”. They were right, it was cheaper. But annoying.

Nami, whose blood began turning into bubbly alcohol, throws to Vivi’s arms. Yet another sweet coworker, who is married, but her eyes-only shine for the redhaired coworker that’s always by your side. The moment they indulge in alcohol, their inhibitions are set free, and what’s meant to be… it’s meant to be.

And that means a sudden trip to the women bathroom, where you were not clearly invited -unless you were into it, in which case they were more than pleased to welcome you in-. But that also means you are sitting all by yourself now. Surrounded by idiots who, as well as the ladies, wanted to end up their night on a love hotel or maybe just the bathroom of the bar with you.

Law seems unfazed, and keeps eating, drinking, and reading something on his phone. Why is he there, after all, you have no idea.

As soon as Nami and Vivi’s spot are free, the guy who offered meat slides right next to you. Thinking he is sleek, only to hit the table and make most of the drinks to spill on top of it. Yet, he is not even worried about it; he is just interested in one thing, you.

“More?” he asks, coming closer and closer, forcing you to consequently graze Law’s arm with yours.

“Uh.. I’m full thanks” you lie. You aren’t even half full, but you don’t want shit from him.

“I meant in your glass, let me serve you…” he whispers, grimacing. The bottle lets its liquids pour into your tiny glass, with the strong intention of getting you as wasted as possible.

You swallow, you won’t drink that up. Not all of it. But he keeps coming closer, and by now, your leg also touches Law’s. And then your back, until it is too noticeable for the tattooed pal to stand up in a violent, quick motion.

“How much are you going to insist on her? She is practically sitting on my lap from how much you are bending over her” Law says, looking at him with eyes on fire and disgust on his voice.

“Traf- Trafalgar-san, I-“ he stutters, he is not worried about you but about his job continuation after this.

“Get the fuck away from here, I don’t want to see you anymore” Law spits, he is not interested in fighting. He has had enough. You are not sure if it was because your body touched him, or because he was trying to defend you… but in any case, you are grateful he did.

You look to the ground, knowing your position wasn’t safe either. This will have consequences, and misogyny always finds the way to win.

Law sits back down, as the rest move away from the long wooden seat to let the bastard go away. But right before he stood up, he whispered at you disgusting words you were already waiting to hear…

“You are a little whore, and you know that. You are probably sucking his dick, aren’t you… slut. Be very careful when you walk home alone tonight”

You chose to keep quiet, as everybody else did. Because nobody would stood up for a woman, not in a men’s world.

You watch him go, drinking almost all the glass in one chug. You needed something to drown the fear and disgust you were feeling right now.

“Are you ok, (Name)-ya? Don’t worry, he has his days counted” Law suddenly says, grabbing his phone again.

“I am… thank you so much, Law-san” you shily and respectfully appreciate his help. “I am sorry for ruining the night…” you whisper, finally.

“It wasn’t your fault, at all. Men like that don’t belong in our organiz- company”

You swallow… and soon you realize what he meant when he mentioned the man had his “days counted”. You try to think of any words to spare the life of the abuser, but soon you chose to stay silent. You didn’t force him to do anything, after all.

Nami and Vivi leave the bar, without saying much. You didn’t want to tell them about the “situation”; you didn’t want to ruin their -lustful- end of the night.

As for the rest of your coworkers, most stood up to smoke outside, while others already took their leaves. Law, remained on his seat until one of the guys invited him to go smoke with them.

There is no point in staying; that drunk bastard won’t probably fulfil his threats against you as he is most probably passed out somewhere else due to the alcohol. Therefore, you pay your share, take your coat, and get outside the bar.

You try to leave without alerting anyone, but it is impossible to do so as one of your coworkers wave goodbye at you.

“Oi, (Name)? are you leaving already?! See you on Monday!” he screams; a scream that catches everyone’s attention, including Law’s.

You wave at them and begin to walk away with your keys in your hands and praying to reach for Shibuya as fast as possible to take the JR towards home… hopefully safe and sound by the end of the night.

A sudden pull in your wrist scares you and wasn’t for his fast reaction one of the keys would have ended carved somewhere on Law’s body.

“Oi, calm down. It’s me. I heard what he said on the bar, let me accompany you” Law says, putting down your hand slowly so he doesn’t get hurt by your keys.

You sigh, relived. Law is still a stranger, but if you had to die you would prefer doing it by the hand of a hot killer…

“Thank you, Law-san. But do you think is it ok? What are they gonna think? Plus, I live in Ueno” you ask, worried for future -unfortunately fake- rumours.

Law lifts his shoulders. “I personally don’t give a single fuck about that. I do, however, care for your safety”

You scoff sweetly, he doesn’t seem like one… but he is, indeed, a gentleman. A real man.

“If you don’t mind, then let’s go. I will repay the favour with some delicious ramen if you allow me. Right in front of my apartment we have the best convenience store of all Tokyo” you chime, happily. Perhaps you mistaken this by a date, but at least for some seconds you indulge on the happy thought of it.

Law nods. “The best one? What makes it so special?”

“It’s special because I spent many nights studying there late at night having the best instant ramen” you inform, proud of it.

He scoffs, and a little smirk appears on his lips. “Good, I wanna try the ramen there. As long as it doesn’t contain bread, I’m good”

You notice he can be a lot more interesting than what you thought; despite keeping the mysterious aura, he is a very talkative guy when he feels comfortable. And, apparently, he does with you.

Most of the conversation turns into a nerdy talk about his favourite comic series, that it is surprisingly the same as yours. And you couldn’t be happier, at least a dreadful night ended up better than expected.

Getting to Shibuya was easy; but the last train was about to part. Therefore, both of you, a little dizzy from the drinks -specially you- found the running a lot more challenging than expected. Yet ultimately, grabbed by Law’s hand, you were able to reach the train just in time before doors closed.

“I am so relieved we made it in time!” you sigh, sitting on one of the empty seats. “Same… I mean you could have taken a taxi but…” Law murmured, stopping his words midway. He realized that sending you home in a taxi would be the end of the time together… and he didn’t want that.

Law then proceeds to sit right next to you, crossing his long legs in such way it makes you bite your lower lip. He is a tease by total nature, he doesn’t even try. And he probably knows that too well. As the girls right in front of him gossip and giggle while looking at him.

The train ride is a little long, and the exhaustion suddenly hits you. You remember the fact that sleeping had been rather scarce the last few days of the week, plus the alcohol in your system…

The next station is Ueno. Doors will open on the right

“(Name)-ya… I think this is our station… wake up” Law’s soft voice whisper in your dreams, and your comfortable pillow suddenly takes the form of what it really was; his shoulder.

“Oh my, sorry! I didn’t mean…” you apologize, quickly brushing off the sleepiness. You notice he is not mad at you, but his façade has relaxed a lot more since the beginning of the night.

“It’s ok, you’ve been working a lot more than the rest lately. You are always the last one to leave the office” he says, helping you stand up and walking to the doors of the train.

You rub your eyes… he knows? That means he’s been watching you… but for how long, and why?

Ueno is as pretty as Shinjuku. The trees that will turn pink in the spring, now hold flowers made of silver flickering lights. There is a considerably less amount of people compared to the big city, though.

The cold air that hits your cheeks wake you up almost instantly, and you are back at having enough energy to eat that instant ramen that you promise Law.

“So, are you still up for the ramen?” you ask, shy and still ashamed for falling asleep on his shoulder. You wonder if snore or even worse… drool on him.

Law nods with a smile on his face and his eyes closed. He is also tired, but he doesn’t want to leave, and you can tell.

You guide him, and after walking a few blocks, the convenience store appears in the corner of a calm neighbourhood’s street.

“Come on, follow me” you chime, pulling from his hand inside the store.

Law follows, and for the first time both grab each other’s hands tightly. Despite gasping, you keep squeezing it… it feels like a dream…

perhaps it is, and I’m still sleeping on the train?

The cashier greets you both, and immediately after recognizing you she informs that the water boiler won’t be working until Monday in case you were there for ramen.

“We can have it in your place if you are ok with it” Law suggests, and your stomach gets full of butterflies… is this like the korean “would you like to come home for ramen?”, is this your “Netflix and chill”?

You nod. After all he did for you, there is no point in letting him go back to Tokyo with at least nothing warm to eat.

Soon he buys two packets of ramen, two sticks of cheese and two cans of sakura edition Monster. And without much conversation you two cross the street to finally reach for your apartment.

The ride on the elevator was as silent as the very beginning, apparently none of you had something further to say… both were absorbed into your own thoughts; what type were the ones inside his head, you begin to wonder.

“Here we are, my room might be in shambles. But the rest I think looks fine” you joke, opening the door and turning on the light.

You were to lie if you said you weren’t lucky; your department is tiny but still has beautiful looks towards the city. Nothing fancy, but decent and exquisitely decorated.

Law smiles, pleased. He enjoys spaces like yours.

“I like you…r place…” he whispers, right behind your back while you walk towards the open kitchen.

“Thanks…” you whisper back, biting your lower lip; sensing the high tension in the air like little zaps of energy, like counter shocks.

You receive the bag with the food from his hands and put a pot of water on the stove. It is necessary for a good instant ramen to boil the water before putting the noodles in. Or so that’s what you always thought. In any case, you needed your mind to be anywhere else but the idea of pleading him to fuck you against the counter.

“(Name)-ya, are you single?” he suddenly asks, after the last crumble of noodles fall from your hands into the bubbly water.

You turn around, slowly. Your ponder whether you should lie to him, or not. Perhaps a taken woman would be a lot more interesting to chase than looking like a lonely girl.

“Because I haven’t seen any man around you…” he continues, sitting on one of the stools and letting his elbows on the counter.

Busted. You can’t lie.

“I am single, yes. What about you, Law-san?” you ask, it is proper -and necessary for you to know-.

Law bends forward, his chin rests on his hand and his golden eyes fix in yours. You realize there has to be a hint of eyeliner on his waterline, and the dark circles intensify under the low light of your kitchen.

“Would you prefer to listen I am?” he asks, straightforwardly and so sexily.

You swallow; what…. the fuck?

“It depends, honestly. I wouldn’t like to be the other woman if you weren’t single” your words sound bigger than yourself, your eyes widen because you don’t even know who is talking right now… but it is definitely not your normal you; this is most likely, your horny you… the “you” that can’t keep hiding how much you are into your boss’ nephew.

Law stands up, walks around the breakfast bar and dominantly -yet, very, very slow- takes his fingers to your chin. You move slightly to the side, allowing your butt to hit the counter behind.

Your fingers clutch to the cold stone surface, your hips feels like magnets being pulled, attracted against the other’s.

“Is that so, (Name)-ya? Well… I am single, indeed” Law whispers, coming closer, so dangerously closer to your lips. His thumb, inked with the letter D, grazes your lower lip ever so softly. And you pout, just enough for him to be able to play with it.

Your sloppy eyelids, your separated lips, your head barely tilted to the side… like feverish, in need of medicine... Law’s lips medicine.

“I’m glad you are…” you moan, opening your mouth just enough to trap with your front teeth his thumb right after. The tip of your tongue follows, wetting his finger. And then, so that there are no more doubts, you suck on it so deliciously lustful.

Law takes a big breath, and sighs right after. He is smirking, so dark. Like you never seen him before. Like you always wish you did.

He lifts you up, helping you sit on top of the counter. Your legs, spread, allow him to come closer.

“You are glad I am gonna fuck you tonight, too?” he asks, leaving you breathless… continuing with the lack of oxygen, as his lips crash on yours.

His tongue, disrespectfully sexual, violates your mouth in pure impetuous need. With gasping and moaning in between, with heavy breathing, with desire for your flesh that seems to be unleashed after being trapped like a beast for so long.

The more he kisses you, the more he wants more. And you do, too.

His playful hands, lift the blouse that seemed to be so enticing to his eyes all through out the night. His delicate fingers crawl from your belly to your chest, squeezing your breasts with no modesty, with no decency.

When he lets your lips free, you feel them swollen, aching for more. You open your eyes, meeting his and a shiver runs through your back. The most handsome man in the earth is right in front of you, wanting to devour you… so desperately.

“So, are you glad… (Name)-ya?” he asks, again. This time with his hand on your neck, squeezing on the right spot to make you dizzy and horny.

“Mhj… yes… please, fuck me” you beg, so weak for his touch.

“Heh” he smirks, ripping your blouse, making the buttons pop and fly away. He doesn’t mind, he doesn’t care… “This damn blouse… you always wear it on Fridays, don’t you? it was making me so hard to see the way your nipples barely peeking through them with the air conditioner… heh…” he moans, with his lips pressed on the commissure of your lips.

For how long have you been watching me in silence, Law? …

Law kisses you one more time before going down to your neck and breasts. The nipples he mentioned were once and for all right before his eyes, hard because of him and not because of the a/c.

Desperately, he cups your right breast, trapping your hard sensitive button with his front teeth. Sucking, twisting, licking. Your body quivering, spasming. Your nails pulling from his messy onyx hair in response to pleasure.

A few more minutes, where you barely reached for the stove to turn it off, are enough for him to want more and more of your body.

“And then, this damn black tight skirt… were you doing it on purpose? Letting your paperwork to fall to the floor, for me to see right when you bent to pick them up, your panties through your pantyhose…? Mh? (Name)-ya?” he asks, kneeling in between your legs, sliding your skirt up, grazing the nylon tights with his teeth.

Why lie? If he was completely right? You did. You did so many times. And yet, never once you thought he could see, he could notice… you remain silent, because silence speaks louder than words…

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” he scoffs, carving with his middle finger a hole on your thighs, ripping violently down to expose your core. The view is pure art to him… to see your dripping wet panties, and the flesh of your thighs protruding from the indentations and ripped places of your panty hose...

He kisses those patches of free skin, and then bites them too. He enjoys the way the nylon material gets wet around with his own saliva; you quiver to the sensation, the cutting sharp edges, the kisses, his teeth grazing, the wetness increasing.

And those kisses, that keep going up and up, reach your core for the first time. “How much I wanted to taste your sex… you got me wanting to do it so bad” he grunts with his lips on your wet panty. The warmth of his breath against your sex, makes you flinch… a sting on your clit that felt like a bullet.

A kiss, a lick. Fine fabric getting drenched. Eyes turning white, his nose buried, inhaling your scent. Curious fingertips, moving lace away. The moment his tongue reached for your folds; your heels carved in between his shoulder blades.

Eating you out, you throw back your head, moaning loud, loudly. But you want even more… And almost like if he could read your mind, he stands up. Law uses his inked, veiny hand to clean -or rather spread- the mess you’ve made on his mouth and chin.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you… you are insatiable, I’ve always knew it” he growls, perhaps ignorant to the fact you are insatiable but only for him.

“I want you” you simply babble, ripping his yellow shirt off to discover his inked chest. The heart on his pecs that goes down until his belly button, pointing to his hardness fighting against his jeans… “I want you so bad…” you whine again.

“Then let me fuck you the way you deserve, (Name)-ya” he moans, biting your lower lip. You help him to get free from his clothes, desperately. You want it now; he wants it more than you.

Soon, his hardness blesses you with his imponent presence in between his fingers. Drippy, slightly veiny, pinkish tip that turns redder the second it passes. He pumps just enough to spread the precum all over, perhaps in an attempt to lubricate… as if it was really needed… you are sure your juices have dripped to your kitchen floor.

With not much, but only pure passion, he lifts one of your legs up until your whole sole is touching the counter. Well spread, enough for him to fit perfectly in, he pulls you closer to the edge.

“I am dying to try your walls clenching around my dick, (Name)-ya” he huffs, with his forehead pressed against yours.

“I want you inside of me, please…” you beg, taking your hips closer to his drippy gland.

Law kisses you brutally, to impale you equally after. He drinks your moans; you breathe off his grunts. His hands land on the small of your back, moving in an out of you with strong pace. While your nails carve on his shoulders, leaving marks of love.

The sound of skin slapping skin flood the kitchen, mixed with the pleasure song of your throats.

Law carries you to the table, and your body lies there until he can bend completely over you to keep fucking you while kissing and biting everything he has in front. You do the same, pulling from his lip, biting his neck, his shoulders… trapping him against you, with no way out, with your legs snaked tightly around his waist.

Nothing matters the most, than him never leaving your insides. Nothing matters the most that being bound to the other, mixed in one and only.

Filled with his release, he keeps on going. Reaching for one, two, three times the maximum climax… more, more and more…

“We can eat the ramen tomorrow… right?” “Y-yes…”

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rustedhearts · 10 months

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send her my love (boxer!steve x fem!librarian!reader)

summary: a series of letters written after your recent breakup with steve, recounting your time apart.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the king of the ring ♡ main masterlist

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, mushy-gushy-lovey-dovey love letters.

a/n: pretty self explanatory, but libby’s letters are in pink, steve’s are in black ♡

“…how it hurt so bad to see her cry. i didn’t want to say goodbye. send her my love, memories remain. send her my love, roses never fade.”

—send her my love, journey

december 1992—march 1993

♡ ♡

12/05/92

Dear Libby,

Dear god I hope you open this. My hands are shaking so bad around the pen that I’m sure it’ll be all scratchy and shit, but I hope you know that I’m trying. I know how much you love letters, and after you stopped picking up my calls a few weeks ago…I figured this was the best way to reach you.

It’s been almost a month since we last saw each other. I hate thinking about that day. I hate thinking about you crying, and crying because of me. Because of something I did. I want you to know that I take full accountability for what I did, my love. That’s a word they said I should use more often. Accountability. “They” would be Big and Mikey. When they heard about what happened…I don’t think I’ve ever seen either of them so mad. I think, for a moment, Big thought about coming out of retirement just to kick my ass into next year.

I patched up the wall myself. It was my mess to clean. The house seems so big and empty without you. I never realized it echoed before.

I don’t blame you for going home, baby. I know you’ve been wanting to go for a while. I know I drove you away. Pushed you away. I was so terrible to you and I see that now. I’m so sorry it took something so awful for me to see it. But you were right. I’m just like my father. And I needed someone to tell me that so I could realize how fucking stupid and awful I’ve been.

I hope you don’t mind that I used some of your stationary to write this to you. You left it on the desk downstairs. The shelves came in for your books and I put them up. Maybe when you come home, we can fill them up. I’ll buy you all the books in the world, my girl.

I’m sorry. Please know that.

Love,

Steve.

♡ ♡

12/10/92

Steve,

I was surprised to receive your letter. When I stopped answering and your calls stopped coming, I assumed we were done for good. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Despite my every want to feel the opposite, I’m still so terribly in love with you that my head hurts every waking moment of the day. I ache with it. Now that we’re apart, it bleeds. It has nowhere to go. I have nowhere to put it. But this was your doing, Steven. I don’t want you to forget that.

We both said terrible things that day, but what you did was unforgivable. You promised from the start to never raise a hand against me in anger. You promised to never become the thing you hated. I took your word as bond, and perhaps that was my mistake. Perhaps that’s my grievance to regret.

I miss you terribly, but this time apart will be good for us. It’s what we need. I’ve been away from home since I was 19. My brother stands taller than me. His voice is so much deeper than when I left. They’re getting computers at the library soon. Everything is so different, yet it all still seems the same. But even these tiny differences make me realize how long I’ve been away.

It’s snowing here in Hawkins and I helped mom put up the Christmas lights. Nick and I had a snowball fight. I felt ten years old again. Mom made hot chocolate and we watched Charlie Brown. I know how much you love Charlie Brown’s Christmas. But in that moment, I felt wonderfully calm. I felt okay. I felt happy.

And it made me wonder…were we happy, Steve? Or have we been pretending for too long?

I’m glad my shelves came. Use them for your trophies.

XO,

Libby

♡ ♡

12/14/92

Libby,

I can’t tell you how happy I was to get your letter in the mail. I’ve been scared to open it for the past two days. But the thought of going a moment more without knowing what you said would kill me. I can hear your voice so clearly when I read your words.

I’ll never forget what I did that day, Libby. It will always be a reminder of how awful I’ve become. And it will always be a reminder of who I don’t want to be ever again.

I know it doesn’t mean much now since I’m a few months too late, but I’m talking to someone. A shrink or whatever. Big recommended him. Apparently he specializes in “anger issues.” You know how I feel about sitting down and whining about my problems, but…I don’t know. Maybe it’ll help. If it turns me back into the man you loved then I’ll sit on that couch and talk for days.

You asked if we were pretending, and for me at least, I never pretended for a moment. There wasn’t a second that went by that I didn’t love you with every ounce of my being. I’m sorry if you felt you had to pretend. I’m sorry that you weren’t happy, and if you give me the chance, I’ll do my best to make you happy this time around.

No amount of trophies or champion belts in the world could make up for the loss of you, my angel. Please know that and believe it.

Yours,

Steve

♡ ♡

12/22/92

Steve,

I hate the way your words make my heart pound. All that love is still so strong, and it’s all still festering in me. But the heartache is just as powerful. The heartache is just as real.

I cannot give you a second chance just yet. I don’t think we’ve quite earned it. I don’t think we’ve yet reached a point where we’re both okay—on our own. I want to be okay even without you. I fear I’ve become so reliant on you to tell me where life will go, because my life has revolved around your own. I’ve never found my own path to wander. I want that opportunity now.

I went to the Hideout tonight. A Christmas party with some friends. I haven’t felt that young in years, Steve. I’m only 22.

Merry Christmas, Steve. And happy New Year.

XO,

Libby

♡ ♡

1/3/93

Libby,

Christmas was lonely without you. Mikey invited me to his "bachelor pad" in L.A for a "booze fest" (all his words). Gargling gravel sounded like a better time. For a minute, I thought maybe it might be good to get out. To be my own person, like you said. But everything just feels so dull now.

I thought about mailing your present, but I figured you'd just get upset. I want to respect your space and our time apart. My shrink says I have to find more time for other people's wants and needs instead of just prioritizing my own. Is that what I've been doing, Libby? Is that what I've always done?

I guess I kinda did. Took you away from the library and your home. I just wanted you with me all the time. I couldn’t imagine getting through that first string of fights without you. I don’t think I’d be the fighter I am today if I didn’t have you there.

I guess I’m talking about “me” a lot again. I’m sorry I do that.

I hope your Christmas was nice. Hope it snowed the way you like.

Love,

Steve

♡ ♡

1/28/93

Libby,

I haven’t heard from you all month. I thought I’d reach out again. For a few days, I had myself convinced my letter got lost in the mail. I waited for a “return to sender” to come. I think I would’ve preferred the honest rejection to your silence. It’s been so quiet here, my girl. I miss the sound of your voice in our home.

The fights mean nothing anymore. I won the Russell fight last week and felt nothing. Ever since you left, victory tastes stale. The referees declare the winner and I just hear static. Jesus, I miss you so much I started reading some of your sappy literature last week. It’s clearly having an affect.

I hope you’re okay. I hope you’re good. I miss you more and more with every passing day. I miss you more than I thought was ever humanly possible for one person to miss another. I never thought this deep of a feeling could exist. This “break” has taught me a lot.

Been talking to the shrink more too. He says I have an issue with authority and always need to feel in control because of how my dad was. Big fucking brain on this guy, huh? Must’ve went to school in Dumb Fuckville.

Sorry. I’m trying to be kinder. Not swear so much. Wish they made patches for anger like they do for nicotine. Something to ease the ache. But it’s hard to quit something you were born into. The Harrington rage doesn’t just disappear over night. But I swear I’m trying. I promise, cross my heart and hope to die, baby. I’m doing my best to be better.

I hope I hear from you. I hope you’re alright.

I love you.

— Steve

♡ ♡

2/3/93

Steve,

I meant to write. I’ve been so busy now that I’m at the library full time again. I forgot how taxing it can truly be, but it’s like riding a bike. The smell of the books, the feel of the paper, the conversations you have with readers who don’t know where to look, or the ones who do and are searching for more. I forgot how important I feel between those stacks of books.

My girlfriends and I have been going out. They never got to celebrate my twenty-first with me, so we had a belated celebration a few weeks ago. We went to a bar in Indianapolis, took a bus the whole way there. The bar was loud and hot and sticky, and someone spilled beer all over my purse. I know you would’ve hated it, but part of me wished you were there. Bodies were pressing against each other on the dance floor, touching and smearing sweat—but all I wanted to feel was yours. Your familiar frame, right next to me. Only with you have I ever felt so secure.

Anyway, I got my first hangover, and that wasn’t fun. Especially because I’m still staying with my parents and they still think I’m seventeen. Nick tried to get me to buy him beer for his friends. I wish I could be this ‘cool’ older sister for him, but right now he doesn’t like me very much.

I watched your fight last week. There’s something so different in the way you move now. Your punches seem heavier, harder. You take more hits before you hit back. I wish you wouldn’t do that. You know I always worry, Steve. I worry about what might happen if you take too many hits. All those concussions can’t be good. I’m no doctor, but I figure eventually, they’ll catch up to you. I don’t want to see that happen. I can’t fathom the idea of losing you like that. No matter what happens between us, I always want to know you’re well. Selfishly, I always want to know you're out there if I need to call.

I’m glad to know you’re trying, and that you’re still going to therapy. I think it’s very healthy, Steve, and I appreciate and value your honesty. And….I miss you too.

Yours,

Libby

♡ ♡

2/12/93

Libby,

There hasn't been a moment that's gone by since you left that I haven't wished I was with you. In whatever way that might be, all I've wanted is to feel your body next to mine. I miss your touch, your smell, your smile. I never want to know another kiss but yours. I never want to hold another body in my arms that isn't yours. I don't think I could stomach the thought of never having that again.

The longer the time between us lasts and the further the distance grows, the worse I ache for you. God I sound like a fucking dope. It's all those novels you left me, I swear I'm not this sappy. But I guess with you I am.

Please forgive me. Please come home. All I can do now is beg, and show you how hard I'm trying.

I love you, angel. There's nobody and nothing but you.

Love,

Steve

P.S. You're the best big sister. Nick will see that one day when his brain isn't full of beer and Playboy.

P.P.S. Happy early Valentine's Day, baby. I hope the flowers are okay.

♡ ♡

2/17/93

Dear Steve,

I loved the flowers, and I loved the sap. Reading your last letter brought tears to my eyes, and for the first time in a while, they were blissful. I cannot begin to describe the size of the welt in my chest. It feels bruised by your absence and my longing.

Despite every bone in my body yearning for you, I cannot come home. Not yet. I'm not ready. I don't think you are, either. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and while it pains both of us to endure it, I think they're right. Whoever "they" are.

In the spirit of all this honesty, I have to admit: Tom Marrow asked me out for Valentine's Day. And god damn you, Steve, I said no. I said no because I'm wilting without your sun shining on me, and I'm lost without you by my side. I said no because I'll never be able to look into the face of another man without wishing it was yours.

I said no because I know, one day (maybe soon, maybe not), I'll come home to you. Don't let that get to your head.

Love,

Libby

♡ ♡

2/22/93

Libby,

My heart has never suffered as many palpitations in all my high-risk athletic career as it did reading your letter. I hate the way the paper crumpled in my fist when I read about fucking Tom. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to abandon the jealousy that fills me when I think of you with another man. But I can admit, it reached a point even I don't like to think of. I was letting it control me. I'm trying not to do that anymore.

The paper smelled like you this time. You don't know how badly I've missed that smell. I sort of feel like a hound-dog, tracing for more of it in the ink. That's what you've reduced me to, my love. An animal searching for you in the earth.

Please come home. Please come back to me.

Yours,

Steve

♡ ♡

3/2/93

My darling Steve,

I'm coming home to you. Please unlock the door.

Yours always,

Libby

♡ ♡

523 notes · View notes

myslvtwritings · 10 months

Text

Playing minecraft headcanons with the uppermoons (+Muzan & Enmu)

this will be a modern!AU (they’re still demons tho)

•

(this is also my first post lmao)

Muzan

okay it takes a HELL ton of convincing to have Muzan himself play with you.

he views any sort of game as ‘dumb’ or ‘childish’

you try to remind him that it’s not in the slightest but it doesn’t do anything much (bro is stubborn)

he’s the demon king? why should he associate himself with the idiotic games mortals play?

eventually he goes give in (bc he loves you in his own weird demonic way..)

strictly on survival mode. doesn’t care what you do but he sees creative mode as a ‘easy way out’ and he wants to be a hard ass (no surprises here)

kills any mob in sight and any mob that comes near you (claims he does it because he’s the demon king and wants to overpower everything and everyone but in reality he just wants to look out for you)

loses his SHIT when he gets dies in the game (triggers his fear of death lol)

you made a joke about him being like the mobs in minecraft because they burn in the sunlight (like him)

he doesn’t play with you after that but he secretly enjoyed spending time with you! (shh, you’ll never hear it from him)

Kokushibo

doesn’t take too much convincing (thank god)

he lowkey enjoys trying out new things with you! you’ve always done everything for him so the least he can do is return the favor.

probably doesn’t really understand it at first so you gotta explain the game to him

gets frustrated easily in the game but it’s more of a silent rage. you take notice of it because his body language changes so it’s not exactly difficult to spot.

like muzan he’ll kill anything that goes near you. (he’s protective even in the game)

most likely will envy your game abilities. (it’s okay you’ll teach him!)

you find it cute that he’s so serious about it sometimes

The both of y’all share jobs in the game and end up creating a lovely little house!

spoiler alert he burns it down after he finds out you can burn things in the game. he did it for no reason whatsoever.

you don’t really mind all that much though. you’re just grateful you got to play with him!

Douma

douma loves and i mean LOVES playing with you!!

this man is bored. (like all the time) so doing something like this will definitely keep him occupied! but he may grow bored quickly because that’s just how he is.

he still adores playing with you though and wants to do it again!

he’ll praise you for how great you are at the game. literally head over heals for you<33

the type of mf to pick up a flower (specifically a rose) and drop it at your feet in the game.

pouts like a toddler when you don’t notice it:((

“Y/N?! didn’t you see the flower i dropped right in front of you!”

he’s clingy even in the game and will follow you around EVERYWHERE.

he is jealous of your building skills and begs you to build him a house💀

Douma’s fav biome is probably the ice plains spikes biome. anything that has to do with snow or ice!

he too also gets frustrated in the game sometimes and SUCKS at hiding it. he doesn’t have outbursts though (surprisingly)

most likely will rizz you up even in the fucking game😭

then after like a few hours of playing he gets bored and either wants to eat (women) or cuddle with you. (maybe both)

Akaza

Akaza is the most interesting to play with out of them all (because he’s just so goofy when playing)

the only thing that’s annoying is that he’ll chase danger quite literally for fun. he will fight anything. I MEAN ANYTHING.

i pity the mobs who (tried) to attack you..

game rage? it’s in his veins. (it’s semi-amusing to witness him get pissed off)

make sure he doesn’t punch a hole in your TV or your computer (whatever you play on) that shits expensive.

like during his battles bro uses only his fists to kill everything. weapons? nah. pro is anti-weapons. uses his fists for quite literally everything and will throw a fit when he dies.

he’ll praise you whenever you kill anything though! (he’s a sweetheart like that)

he’s like a guard dog even in the silly game. (over protective is an understatement)

he attempts to build you a house (it isn’t too horrible, surprisingly)

one time when the two of you were mining deep within the caves for diamonds Akaza found some and broke/mined it with his fist. (you got so pissed)

he apologized and found you some new ones though! thankfully, he didn’t use his fists to break the block this time.

overall, Akaza really does enjoy playing with you! he grows fond of it and now playing minecraft with him is one of y’all’s favorite things to do together<33

Hantengu Clones

(i’m writing the four of them all together because i’m lazy)

want to know what’s more than chaotic? playing some challenging game with 4 very emotional demons.

At first Sekido immediately rejects the idea of playing the game with you and his three other brothers (the hantengu clones are brothers in this AU)

After a shit ton of persistent begging from you and Karaku and Urogi he only submits in the end and plays (mostly because of you)

Karaku and Urogi literally are beefing the entire time (Sekido’s rage is at it’s boiling point because of those two jackasses)

Aizetsu cries like a baby whenever he accidentally kills anything (except for the mobs)

whenever he sees a mob his scaredy-cat ass sprints away in the opposite direction.

Urogi and Karaku bully him RELENTLESSLY for this. (Aizetsu is a victim)

Urogi is the type to secretly go into creative mode grab a shit tone of diamonds or netherite and is like; “Heyy, lookie what i found!!”

no one falls for his bullishit.

they all protect you in the game and show off in front of you. (it’s embarrassing)

Karaku is surprisingly good at the game but like Akaza he’ll chase danger for fun.

Aizetsu only feels safe around you so he’ll follow you around and cling to you in the game so his two brothers stop harassing him.

Sekido only plays for a few minutes before getting aggravated and just abandoning the game as a whole.

(he is the type to punch everyone playing the game. even you sometimes but Karaku and Urogi mostly fall victim to his attacks)

Sekido surprisingly leaves Aizetsu alone.

the five of you try to create a world where it’s just peaceful (Keep on dreaming, kid. that ain’t happening)

everything goes downhill, half of the world is ENTIRELY demolished and all of you died over 1000 times.

playing with all of them is too chaotic. you can’t really take it seriously. You only can when you’re playing with one of the clones one on one.

y’all didn’t play again after that madness. 😭

Gyutaro

now Gyutaro here is the only chill one to play with. (finally a normal one)

like Kokushibo, it doesn’t take that much convincing! in fact, he agrees to it almost immediately.

at first he is confused and doesn’t understand how to play minecraft but he is a quick learner and figures it out on his own.

Gyutaro doesn’t have a preference for survival or creative mode. He just does whatever you want.

Whenever y’all play in a survival world you two share tasks and duties and actually create a pretty decent looking world!

he still has your back though. Will kill any mobs that interfere with his little home he created with you.

he enjoys building houses and is surprisingly really amazing at it! he finds comfort in building.

however, whenever you, Daki and Gyutaro all play together it’s mostly him and Daki arguing and being all competitive. It’s mostly Daki’s fault because she’s the cause for half of the mayhem that happens in the world.

sometimes Gyutaro plays even without you. (he grew fond of the game quickly and likes the game)

the both of you play together everyday and go onto the same world every time because y’all created a beautiful old-fashioned city on there. (he cherishes it immensely and is insanely proud of the masterpiece of a world the two of you made as a team)

Daki

Daki is infuriatingly annoying but also entertaining to play with at the same time.

she is a giant rage quitter like Sekido and Akaza.

throws tantrums frequently over the smallest things that go wrong in the game.

she will be jealous of any item you get that’s better than hers.

this lil shit steals everything you earn that’s better than what she has. (you notice every time)

you confront her about it and she has the audacity to lie. (like girl yk damn well)

you end up taking your stuff back and she will BATTLE you for it. (you win these matches every time. that alone only adds to her angered state😭)

she will deliberately quit whenever something doesn’t go her way but later come back and declares she wants to try again.

it’s like a endless loop because this happens every. single. time.

(she’s such a brat istg)

will always steal your diamonds and put them in her chest and say she found them first.

while you’re asleep she will secretly go into the world and take all your shit and you’ll wake up back at square one.

(lowkey you want to stop playing with her)

y’all barely even work as a team but when y’all it’s always ha fight (mostly her fault btw)

once she notices your frustrations. She’ll level it down for you so no need to worry! (this earns your respect)

but whenever y’all are in creative mode shes so much more fun and enjoyable to play with!

you two usually build big ass mansions together and with y’all’s godly building skills you two make an incredible looking house and live in it together!

Enmu

Enmu absolutely looooves doing everything with you! he says yes immediately when you ask him to play with you.

after all he’s your personal simp. this fucker will gladly do whatever you say w/o any hesitation.

Enmu has actually heard of the game ‘minecraft’ before but never actually played it and barely knew what it was really about.

oh boy, but when he does he becomes OBSESSED.

I kinda feel like he dislikes survival mode and prefers to be in creative mode! but if you like survival mode he won’t mind trying it out with you.

he likes killing the animals for fun.. will randomly slaughter anything even if it has a family (bro is a sadist after all)

you tell him it’s not necessary to be doing that but he doesn’t care nor listen.

his love language is building you trains in the game. (you love them very much)

Enmu is usually very calm when he’s not on a mission so playing this game only soothes him further and he doesn’t act overly crazy and zesty like he usually does around Muzan

Builds trains every time y’all play and is somehow INSANELY skilled when building them (??)

Similar to douma, he’s the type to rizz you up in the game.

Sulks when you don’t notice him when he attempts to.

He constantly nags you to play with him some more and gets a lil upset when you become tired.

“Oh, Y/N!, how can you be tired? we’re having soooo much fun!!”

forces you to stay up just so he can introduce you his own train world he made for himself. (he named all the trains)

you’re out cold after playing with him every time. High key finds it adorable when you pass out after hours of playing with him. He’s so amused how humans can grow tired so easily.

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steppin-on-the-last-train · 5 months

Text

Happy Xmas (War Is Over)

Natasha Romanoff x Taskmaster!Reader

Summary: Settling down within S.H.I.E.L.D hasn't been easy, but Christmastime is here, and Clint Barton extends an invitation that seems too good to be true. You follow him to his farmhouse where you're met with a few surprises. With Natalia by your side, you try to accept your new life in America, and maybe find some holiday spirit along the way.

Foreword: Happy Holidays everyone! This is a beast of a fic (14.5k words) so strap in. It's also very much an original character just written in second person, but I hope you enjoy.

You sat slouched on a sofa in the common room of SHIELD headquarter’s residential wing. You weren’t sure why the designers had felt the need to include this room. Spies weren’t well known for their extroverted nature. But the holidays had left the area quiet, rather the entire building seemed to have wound down with the slowing nature of the cold and snow outside. You found the space to be useful when you became sick of staring at the same four blank walls of your standard issue apartment. Having recently defected from Russian ranks you and Natalia weren’t allowed to leave campus without an escort, which left you exactly three places to spend downtime. Your room, Natalia’s room–which looked exactly like yours save for a book Barton had given her–or the common area.

The two of you were working on the latest mission report. Well, you were supposed to be working on the write-up, but the end of year evaluations had been released and yours begged to be raked over. So Natalia worked on hers, fingers diligently tapping away at the keys. She was sitting sideways along the couch, legs lounged over your lap and back to the armrest. You didn’t know how she found the position comfortable. You narrowed your eyes at your computer screen and the unkind words it harbored. “Do you think I am uncooperative and have a tendency to disobey the orders of superiors?” You asked the redhead.

She looked up from her laptop, eyes searching your profile. “Where is this coming from?”

“The end of year assessments,” you frowned. “They are out.”

“I thought we were working on the reports for the Minsk mission.” She raised a reprimanding eyebrow.

“I was,” you said, dragging out the second word ever so slightly. “But they are just so tedious now. Why do they need to know the amount of bullets I used? I miss when all we had to do was take a photo of the dead guy for proof of accomplishment.” Natalia nudged your ribs with her foot. “Ow,” you complained.

“We do this because it’s the normal thing to do. Because what we do in the field is necessary, but the violence has to be justified so we can continue doing our jobs.” She tucked a strand of hair that had escaped from her braid behind her ear. “We’re with the good guys now,” she reminded gently. “The world may still be brutal, but we don’t have to be anymore.”

“So we count the bullets,” you concluded.

“So we count the bullets,” she stated. A moment of silence passed, only the sound of Natalia resuming her typing filling the air. That was something you were still getting used to. Silence always preceded something terrible, the inhale before you faced hell on earth. “You are uncooperative.”

“What?” You asked, turning to face her indifferent expression.

“Your question from earlier. I’m answering it.”

“You too?” You shook your head. “You are supposed to take my side, not Fury’s.”

“You are the person who let themselves get captured by the enemy after you heard they’d gotten to me. And,” she paused, “if you finished that report you’d get to the part where you chose not to listen to Agent Riley.”

“I had it handled,” you said, reaching for your coffee cup on the side table.”That man thinks he knows what is better just because he has fifteen years on me. I think he is too cautious. That is why the Americans are leagues behind us in intelligence. They do not have the guts to do what needs to be done.”

“We are Americans now,” she reminded. You wrinkled your nose. “I mean for all intents and purposes, you get that.” She put her laptop on the coffee table and sidled next to you. You could feel her warmth bleed into you where your bodies met. Her knees pressed into your legs, her shoulders turned into your chest. “You can do it, I know you can,” she whispered, taking your hand.

“Do what?” You asked dubiously.

“Beat them. Unlearn what they taught us. You just have to make an effort.” She put a hand on your cheek, fingertips caressing the side of your face. You almost swore she wanted you to kiss her. You swallowed down nothing but a bubble of air and desire. Not today.

You looked at her, gaze narrowing. “I am here, am I not?” Two large windows allowed the morning light to stream in behind Natasha and wash her in a fresh aura. The blue sky shined bright as fat snowflakes whirled down to meet the pavement of the U.S. capital. Far below, pedestrians hustled from building to building, jackets pulled tight against the cold. Your heart began to pound when you thought about calling this place home. Everything was just so wrong. “I think fighting the urge to run is about all I can manage right now. I believed in the cause, at least I think I did. Turning my back on the Red Room, on him any faster and I think I might break.”

“I know, and I see you. But you have to show them that,” she said, tapping the now black computer screen.

“Like you do? Do not tell me you actually trust anyone here.”

“I don’t,” she said carefully, as if there might exist an exception. “But you have to cooperate, to let someone else take the reins for now.”

“I do not know if I can.” You bit your lip and traced the room with your eyes. The clean, modern furniture and the off-white walls. You knew you shouldn’t but you missed the familiarity of the old wooden mansion. “I am not like you Talia. I cannot see the good in people.”

“And I’m not asking you to. Do you trust me?” She asked, eyes that reminded you of the dawn of spring boring into yours.

“Always,” you breathed, not missing a beat. “You are the only thing in this world that makes sense to me.”

“Then follow my lead. I’m worried about you. I don’t want you digging a hole you can’t climb out of.”

“Okay, I will try.” You were not sure you meant it. Humanity given too much freedom would eat itself alive. A familiar mantra marched across the back of your mind like the incessant buzz of an insect. Correct and control. Correct and control. Correct and control. Correct–

A noise from down the hall caught your attention. Quick footsteps heading your way echoed into the room. You looked at Natalia. The two of you had thought everyone else had left the building for the holidays.

A frazzled Clint Barton walked into the room, looking about to take off in a full sprint. He wore faded blue jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. A duffel bag hung over his shoulder, storing a fair amount of his belongings if you had to guess. He glanced in your direction, but refused to slow his stride. You watched him go, when suddenly he dug his heel into the ground and spun around.

“What are you guys doing here?” He asked as if just now processing your presence.

“Working,” Natalia answered. You liked Barton well enough and there was no question that you owed him an unpayable debt for sparing Natalia’s life. He looked unassuming, quick to smile and kept a short crop of hair as blonde as a field of wheat. You weren’t quite on casual speaking terms though, not because he bothered you, no. It’s just you weren’t keen to talk to anyone except the girl still halfway sprawled across you.

He furrowed his brow and adjusted the strap across his shoulder. “It’s Christmas Eve,” he stated plainly, as if that in itself was explanation enough.

“It is,” Natalia agreed.

“Well you can’t sit in here all day.” He made a sweeping gesture about the room and all of its bareness and almost surgical detachment. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, silent surprise weaving its way across his face. Feeling off put, you fixed your posture, spine straightening and causing Natasha to slide away. You had yet to encounter him outside of a professional setting, but here you sat wedged into the couch and rather at ease. You wore sweats, albeit SHIELD issue, but still something you’d normally not be caught around in.

“And why is that?” Natalia asked, tone laced with faux confusion. She blinked at Barton, eyes doe-wide.

He shifted his stance and rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re really going to make me say it?” He waited, looking at Natalia indignantly. “It’s sad. You can’t stay at work during Christmas.”

“What would you suggest we do?” She asked, still playing her one-sided game. Bemusing to you, but not so much to the Hawkeye.

“I don’t know. Go home? That’s what I’m doing.” Home, you thought. If you ran back to the place you still called home, SHIELD would call for your head. Even still, the house beckoned out to you in your dreams; not warm, never safe, but structured and oh so familiar. Come home my child, a gruff voice compelled. Come and take your rightful place as my sword and shield.

Something behind Natasha’s eyes flickered for a moment before disappearing behind a wall of apathy. “There’s not exactly a home for me to go back to.”

“Oh. That’s right. Erm,” Barton stammered. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget.”

“Forget that I’m an outsider?”

“That’s one way to put it I suppose. I mean, you’re one of us now, right? We all come from different places so in a way we’re all outsiders. Most of us have pasts we’d rather forget. You don’t do the kind of thing we do because you grew up with two loving parents,” he said.

Natalia tilted her head, hair brushing against your neck. “And where did you come from?”

He smiled, one side of his mouth pulled slightly higher than the other. “Nice try Romanoff. Put a couple of beers in me first and you might have better luck.”

“Oh that’s right, I forgot. Fury found you wandering around the sewers,” she teased. You didn’t know who she did it. How she joked and spoke so freely. How she saw a friend and ally where you saw a threat and a future enemy.

“Ha ha,” he said dryly, lips still curled in a smile. “You’re actually not too far off.” He waited before saying more, eyes flicking to you as they often did when the three of you gathered together. Patiently offering a chance for you to join the conversation, but never calling you out. You were running out of excuses to mistrust the man. “Even still, you guys ought to get out of here. Drive to New York or something. They put up a giant tree in Times Square. I’ve never seen it in person, but,” he raised an arm for emphasis. “Huge.”

This time Natalia’s expression fell for long enough even Barton picked up on it. She turned away from him and stared down at her hands. “I’d love to see that,” she murmured. “We can’t leave though. Not yet. Not without an escort from an authorized superior.” Technically there was nothing stopping you from leaving the building. You’d picked up the nasty habit of prowling the streets in the dead hours of the morning after a nightmare left your hands shaky and your heart clawing its panicked way up your throat. Natalia however had not made one move even remotely close to toeing SHIELD’s strict line. A fact made clear when she’d caught you sneaking back in as the sun rose one morning. You’d promised not to do it again with an overwrought frown on your face. You went out again the very next night and left a mugger to bleed out in an alleyway.

“Oh, that’s right.” It was Barton’s turn to look away. “You know what?” He asked, lifting his chin and pulling out a cell phone. He let the duffle bag down from his shoulder and onto the ground, putting the phone to his ear. Natalia looked at you and you shrugged. She knew him better than you anyway.

“Hey honey,” he said, not bothering to turn away or lower his voice. You didn’t know he had a girlfriend. Between the way you had only ever seen him consume pizza and his obsession with trying to make the most difficult shots possible on missions you had assumed he was single. “I’ve got a pair of stragglers here at the office.” He paused, sucking on his teeth for a moment. “I know, I know I was just about to get on the road I promise. I’ll still be home by five. No, I’ll be careful, I won’t get a speeding ticket this time.” He adjusted the phone and flicked his gaze in your direction. “Yeah, Laura, it’s them. You know me. They don’t have anywhere to go and I thought.” He paused. Slowly, a dopey grin curled onto his face. “Yeah, I do. You know I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t.” A final pause. “Okay. I’ll see you later. Love you.” He stuffed the phone back in his pocket and looked up with new excitement sparkling in his eyes. “Have you guys ever been to Iowa?”

Natalia shook her head. “No. I’ve got a soft spot for the Midwest though.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Go pack for a few days. Laura’s going to kill me if I’m another minute late,” he said, hoisting the bag over his shoulder.

Natalia’s eyes went wide and she opened her mouth, speechless. Even you were taken aback. Was Barton really inviting you to his home? Certainly he didn’t trust you yet. You hadn’t even been at SHIELD for a year, the first six months of which you spent firmly locked in a cell. Yet there he stood, hands in his pockets and waiting for you to move your ass and follow him out. “I didn’t,” Natalia started. “When I said we couldn’t leave I wasn’t asking for you–”

“Nope. Don’t do that. I want to. You guys are never going to be comfortable here if you’re not extended some freedom. Trust me, I know.” You watched the other man with suspicion, waiting for the trap to spring. The SHIELD agent who had spared Natalia’s life when he had explicit orders to put an arrow through her heart. The American who believed in the good in people and making the world a less gruesome place in the small way he could. The person who extended a hand to others in a time of crisis. “I used to spend Christmas alone and cold without a home. Then I got Laura and I couldn’t be happier. But it can get lonely just the two of us out there. If you really would rather stay here I won’t force you to come,” he said matter-of-factly. “But I would really appreciate the company, and I know Laura would love to meet the two of you.”

Natalia shifted, putting one foot on the floor. She looked at you and you knew she wanted to go, but wouldn’t if you said no. But oh, you would do anything for her. Subtly you nodded. You didn’t care how much you were struggling, you’d pull yourself together for the weekend. “We’re in.”

You pushed yourself off the couch and went back to your room to pack what little you had. All of your clothes were plain which you didn’t mind, but something about knowing they were SHIELD issue left you feeling claustrophobic. You gripped a black dress shirt in your hand a little tighter than you needed to. To you it screamed, you are not free. We own you now. You threw your toothbrush and toothpaste in alongside the clothes before stopping at the bedside table. Carefully you pulled open the drawer and snagged a little necklace from inside. Tucking it into a side pocket you jogged out to find Natalia and Barton waiting in the lobby.

Barton’s truck was nowhere near extravagant, but it held a sort of coziness that only came from years of ownership. Natasha sat in the passenger seat while you took the back, wincing when you found the lack of legroom. The interior smelled of old air freshener, dirt, and worn leather. “Strap in,” he said. “We’ve got a long ride ahead of us.”

Barton tuned the radio to play Christmas music and introduced you to his atrocious singing as he belted along to ‘Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town’. As you left the thick jungle of Washington D.C. and moved west across Virginia the city whipped away as the sun traveled across the sky. When you reached the interstate proper and were well away from the prying eyes of the urban center you finally allowed yourself to relax a little. Natalia began to hum along to a new song, a small smile on her face. Barton turned the volume up a notch and you leaned your head against the cool window pane, eyes tracking the snow covered countryside.

At a gas station in Ohio Natalia asked to switch seats with you. She curled up in the back using a sweatshirt as a pillow and closed her eyes, pretending to sleep. You checked the rearview every few minutes and eventually she had fallen asleep for real, lips parted slightly and breathing slowing down.

Barton had given up on his singing endeavor and had reduced himself to whistling and tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the radio. As you passed a sign welcoming you to Indiana he spoke up. “Okay, truth time,” he said, stealing a concerned glance at you before staring back at the two lane road before him. The truck's wheels ate up yards of the sun bleached asphalt. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Yes,” you said.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but you’re not gonna kill me in my sleep tonight, right?” He asked, trying his best to clear the nerves from his voice.

“No. I like you, Barton. And even if I did not I owe you a great debt,” you said.

A crease formed on his brow. “A debt?”

You looked back at the woman sleeping soundly in the back of the truck. Her feet were tucked up on the seat, head laying on a sweatshirt stuffed in between the window and the headrest. You thought it might have been the most at peace you’ve ever seen her. “Yeah,” you breathed. “For giving her a better life.” One that I never could, you thought.

“I didn’t do it looking for any favors. Not from her, and certainly not from you or Fury,” he insisted. “Fury was pissed of course. He knew who I was when he hired me, but I still think he underestimated my loyalty to my gut. And you,” he said, nodding in your direction. “You were a wildcard no one saw coming.”

“Good or bad?” You asked, already sure of the answer.

“To be honest, I’m not sure yet. I think that’s still up to you,” he said.

You held a groan back. Moral dilemmas made your head ache. You’d wanted a straight answer. Tell me how to be good. “What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his hair, spiking it up in three different ways. “Well, you’re good out in the field. Like scary good, and I know you’ll watch my back. That’s the most important thing,” he said. “But then we get back and I see you pacing around the compound like you’re stuck in a cage. I guess I’m just not sure what’s going through your head.”

You clenched and unclenched your fist, overcome with the urge to tell the other man more than you’d told any of the SHIELD shrinks in a year. He felt safe and genuine, but you knew that was an impossibility; you knew people to be horrid pretenders. You opened your mouth anyway, Natalia’s urges for you to try ringing in your ears. “I can follow orders on a mission no problem. Shut off my brain and listen to authority. Protect your team, take the shot, retrieve the files. That is what I was built for,” you sighed, eyeing Barton warily. Waiting for him to snap at you. “But when the job is done, and I have time to sit and think on it…I feel like I have just ripped myself in half.”

“That’s, well, that’s some intense shit,” he said, tipping his head. “What I can tell you though, with absolute certainty, is that General Dreykov is a bad man. For me, for SHIELD, for her…” Clint said. You knew very well who he was referring to. “There’s no gray area there, man. We’re going to shut him down.”

“I know," you said, short and quick. You knew that's what they all said, but Dreykov had protected you for a long time. He had raised you. He had loved you as his own. You didn't want to see him in a cell, or worse, in a grave. “I cannot get it straight in my head. Everyone has been telling me that working for SHIELD is a step toward being better, to making something of myself. If that is true, then how come the longer I am here the more I feel like I am betraying everything that makes me me?” You knew why. Something inside you was broken and twisted beyond repair. It made you see the world backward. Everyone around you could smell the festering rot of the mangled heart inside your chest. They just needed an excuse to put you down for good.

“Well, you are just about the most Russian person I’ve ever met,” he said. You tried your very best not to glare at him when he looked over. “Before about five minutes ago the only sentences I’d ever heard you speak were two word acknowledgements in the field. And the accent. You’re playing it up, right?”

“Maybe a little.” You were more than capable of fixing it and putting on an American one, but you felt entitled to keep this little part of yourself. To remind yourself and everyone else where you came from. The pressure to conform was a constant torrent but you refused to let them win, for better or for worse.

“As for actual advice…I would say don’t look at it from a good versus bad perspective. In this field, none of us are really good. Not even at SHIELD. I don’t care what some of those righteous assholes think. Forget what anyone told you before and what anyone tells you now,” he said, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel. “Take a step back and compare the before and the now. How did it make you feel?” He asked, stressing the you. “What cause do you believe in? Tough thing is there’s not a right and a wrong answer. Took me a hell of a long time to figure out what I thought about it all. I used to operate strictly outside of the law and now I’m a fed,” he said, shrugging. “Just know I’m rooting for you.”

“And if I come to a conclusion you do not agree with?”

“I’ll make sure to give you a headstart,” he said, winking and throwing you a playful smirk.

“Ah, I am grateful Barton,” you said, cracking a smile. It felt good, like feeling the sun on your face after being inside for a long time. You reveled in the feeling while it lasted.

“No. No more of that Barton stuff. It’s Clint.” He said, shaking his head. “Unless we’re on a mission. Then it’s Hawkeye.”

“The infamous Hawkeye. Tell me, Clint. Where do you get a name like that?” You could tell he was fond of the alias.

“Would you believe me if I told you it’s from the circus?”

A million questions crowded your mind. You looked over, mouth hanging open. You didn’t know much about circuses. They had shown you all a cartoon once about an elephant that had giant ears and could fly. It led the other circus animals in a rebellion against the human handlers. In the end the ringmaster cut its ears off and strung them up as a lesson against exceptionalism. “You were in the circus?” You asked.

“Even better,” he answered. “I was raised up in one.”

“Did you have elephants?”

“No,” he scoffed, chuckling. “We were classier than that. All acrobats and good old fashioned theatrics. I used to sharpshoot. Struck apples off of people’s heads. That sort of thing. Although when I wasn’t on stage I was running through the audience, taking wallets out of pockets.”

You squinted your eyes at him. “Baby Barton raising hell. I can see it. And it would explain the mess in here.” You scuffed your shoe on the floor, stirring up bits of dirt and dried mud. Items crowded the backseat next to Natalia. A winter coat, a pair of sneakers, a hunting knife, handle worn from use. The cupholders were stuffed with old receipts and loose change, and something rattled in the glove box everytime the truck took a left turn.

“It’s messy in here?” He asked, glancing about the cabin. “I don’t think it’s too bad.”

“You are funny.”

“No, I'm being completely serious. Doesn’t everyone’s car kinda look like this?” His bewilderment would be slightly endearing if you weren’t such a neat freak.

“No, not really. I will help you clean over the holiday,” you said, leaving no room for protest. “I cannot stand the ride back like this.”

“If you insist. Just don’t throw anything out without running it by me. I promise everything in here is important.”

“Whatever you say,” you said, eyeing a stack of coffee cups wedged in the door.

“Can I ask something? I mean, I don’t want to overstep.” You were learning Clint did not do well with silence.

“Go ahead.”

“What’s the deal with you and Natasha? Are you dating? It’s been killing me trying to figure the two of you out.”

“No, uh, we are not,” you stuttered. “We are friends.” Even that label seemed to hold too much weight. You weren’t supposed to have friends. And to befriend one of the Widows no less. You were above them, primed to not only serve the Red Room, but to be the embodiment of its crusade. Dreykov’s right hand. The Taskmaster.

Clint had the nerve to scoff. “I’ve seen you just about butcher an entire compound of enemy combatants without batting an eye. And you can never ever tell Fury this but you intimidate the other agents more than he does.” He took one hand off the wheel and stretched it out, flexing his fingers. “And as far as I can tell the only person who can get you to listen to anyone but yourself…” He pointedly stared at the rearview mirror. “I didn’t even recognize you earlier back at SHIELD. You looked so, unagitated. Like you finally managed to dislodge that stick up your ass.”

“Ha, ha,” you laughed dryly. “You know, I am going to find something to shove up your ass.”

“You were letting her lay on you like a cat. You can’t tell me you guys haven’t slept together.”

You glared at his profile until he got the hint and faced you. “That is none of your business.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry I crossed a line,” he said. Your chest twisted with an unfamiliar sensation. One that made its way to your face in not quite a smile, but certainly an expression of gratitude. You bit down hard on the inside of your cheek. Apologies were new for you.

“It is alright,” you said, vehemence leaving your voice. “It is just complicated. We had,” you hesitated and took a deep breath. “We had more than we should have in, um…before. They tried to keep us apart, make me think she was as heartless as the rest of the world.” You stared out the windshield, not willing to risk eye contact with Barton. A bug came flying at the truck and splattered green guts right in your eyeline. “And for a while I believed them. I hated her. But I was wrong. It is actually the opposite. Natalia is just, she is good. She stupidly stuck by me and dragged my head up from the sand when I was intent on suffocating myself.”

“I’m no expert, just a guy with a wife and a couple of kids, but that sounds a damn lot like love to me,” he said.

A choir of sardonic voices roused to action in the forefront of your mind. What do you know of love? You bite the hand that needs you, do you understand? You bite it clean off. A bitter laugh lunged from your throat before you could stop it. “You are wrong. Love is a fantasy to hold over the heads of the masses.”

“Wow.” Clint blinked dramatically, twice. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you just got even more Russian.”

“Fuck off, Hawkeye,” you said, grinning freely.

“Seriously though, I’ll never understand what you guys went through. Not in any way that counts, but the fact you made it out together tells me how fucking strong the both of you are.” He flicked his gaze to you. “There’s something there for you to think about too, but you gotta find it on your own.”

But you would rather take a knife to the chest than admit to harboring any sort of four letter words for Natalia. “Wait, you have a kid?” You asked, turning the conversation back on Barton.

“Yeah,” he said, smile reaching up to crinkle the corners of his eyes. “I have two now, if you can believe it. My oldest is Cooper. He’s a little over three. Lila is the baby. They’re why I was a little nervous about bringing you out. My number one priority, before SHIELD, before the mission, before myself are those kids.”

“And you were driving me all this way worried that I would turn on you? That I might hurt your kids?”

“Well, you know. Don’t trust anyone, especially other spies. Especially Russian spies if you’re American. I was fairly sure, but there was a voice in the back of my head asking ‘what if,’ and I had to ask,” he admitted.

You wanted to tell him you’d never hurt a little kid. That he shouldn’t have worried. Except you had, so so many times before. “How do you feel now?” You asked instead.

“A lot better. Glad to know you’re not a robot.” Silence grew as the radio paused in between songs. You laid back against the seat and watched the plains rush by outside. The speakers came back to life and a new sickeningly cheery jingle began to play. “I love this one,” Clint said, turning the volume back up. He hummed with contentment and drummed his fingers on the wheel, looking over at you. “I am going to teach you all about the joy of Christmas music, just you wait.”

“Oh, great,” you remarked wryly. The small grin on your face however betrayed your stark tone. Maybe this place wasn’t so bad after all.

—

The old Chevy fought its way up the snow covered path toward the farmhouse in the middle of the field. White and red lights hung from the roof and wrapped the pillars of the porch in heartwarming hues. A little plastic snowman stood ambassador to the front door, waving a mittened hand and welcoming the incoming entourage. Clint parked a couple dozen yards from the house, grumbling about how he’d have to dig the truck out before he left again. Natalia hopped out, eyes wide as she took in the home. Your breath puffed out in visible clouds, but you hardly felt the cold. You were raised in the deathly Russian winters.

The front door cracked open, a woman standing silhouetted in the warm light behind her. “Clinton Francis Barton! You better get inside right now,” she said, a wide smile brightening her voice.

“Clinton?” Natalia asked, walking close behind Barton up to the porch.

“Yeah, yeah. Now you know my biggest secret.” He trudged up the stairs, snowflakes dusting his shoulders and hair. Laura met him in the doorway with a kiss. “Sorry we’re a little late,” he said.

“You’re excused this time, but only because you brought guests,” she said. Up close you could see she had big brown eyes and brown hair that fell to her shoulders. The inside of the house beckoned, the haze of meat and pine wafting outside. You dragged your feet along the stairs. You didn’t belong here. “Get inside now, you’re letting all the heat escape.” She patted Barton on the butt as he trod inside, fondness lacing her eyes as she looked after him. Natalia stood at the entryway, not yet stepping up into the house. “I mean you two as well,” Laura insisted, ushering you through the door.

“Daddy!” A little boy came barrelling around a corner, wrapping his arms around Clint’s leg and staring up at him with a toothy grin. The house immediately opened up into the living room, a worn brown couch facing a fireplace and an evergreen tree adorned with ornaments and twinkling lights. To your left a staircase spiraled upward and disappeared to a second floor. You stomped your shoes off on a welcome mat, watching the slush melt away.

A drumbeat of footsteps pattered your way and suddenly the child was wrapped around your leg, his fingers digging into your calf. Your muscles tensed and you began to lift your leg to shake him off, heart in your throat.

“Coop!” Laura scolded. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s usually pretty shy around strangers.”

But Cooper didn’t listen and you didn’t kick him away. This kid was not a threat. He ogled up at you with wide eyes the same shade as his mother’s and hair somehow blonder than his father’s. “Hi. I’m Cooper,” he said with the grace of someone just learning to speak.

“Hi,” you said, heat rushing to your cheeks at being startled by a three year old.

“Who are you?” He asked.

“I am a friend of your father’s,” you said, also telling him your name.

“Looks like you’ve been replaced, Clint,” Laura teased. “Come on, buddy, let’s get up. Daddy’s got to show them upstairs.”

But he only sank down further, sitting firmly on your shoe and jutting his lip in a pout. “Walk with me.”

You looked at Natalia, a tender smile on her face. “It’s alright,” you told Laura. “I can take him upstairs.”

“Are you sure?” She asked. “I can make him get down.”

“Yeah.” You couldn’t explain the tight feeling in your chest whenever the boy smiled up at you. “Are you ready?” He nodded eagerly and you took a step, following Clint up the stairs. Cooper giggled the entire time, clinging on with little hands.

“I hope you guys are okay with sharing a room. We’ve got Coop and Lila in their own rooms right now. Lila keeps you up at night, doesn’t she buddy?”

He nodded against your knee. “Lila cries a lot.”

“This is great,” Natalia said. “Thank you.” You and her still slept in separate rooms, but at this point you would have been willing to sleep out in the barn if he told you to. You hadn’t realized how crazy you’d been in that SHIELD compound. The wind whipping against your face outside had been like finally breathing deeply after having your head held underwater.

“The door on the end is the master bedroom,” Clint said, pointing left down the hall. “That’s Coop’s room, then there’s the nursery, the bathroom, and finally,” he stopped, opening a door to the right. “Here’s the guest room. I’ll let you guys get settled. Take your time. I’m going to help Laura get the table set.” He knelt down, scooping Cooper up under his arms and lifting him high in the air. The toddler shrieked as Clint settled him on his shoulders and stomped downstairs.

You set your bag down as Natalia moved around the room, running her hand over the nicely made bed. You cleared your throat, nerves and a foreign feeling clashing in your mind. “I can sleep on the floor.”

She turned to you sharply. “You know I would never ask you to do that.”

“I know. But I am offering.” You walked over to the window, pushing the curtain open and peering outside. You couldn’t see much of anything, even with your enhanced eyesight. Even still, the countryside was a refreshing landscape after being firmly locked in the city. But the wilderness sheltered different threats. The red dot of a laser sight burned your retinas, and glowing yellow eyes stared blankly back at you.

Natalia pulled your hand into hers, lacing your fingers together. “We’re okay here,” she mumbled into your shoulder as if reading your mind.

“Do you really believe that?”

“I do,” she said, coming to stand in front of you. You wrapped your arms around her and rested your chin on top of her head, imagining you could shield her from all harm this way. “Listen.”

You strained your ears, searching for alarming sounds. The wind outside stirred quietly, enough to flurry the falling snow, but not so aggressive as to rap the window pane. Beyond that there was only quiet. No footsteps prowling around the back of the house. No click of a rifle’s safety being switched off. “I do not hear anything,” you said.

“You’re listening for the wrong things,” she said.

You frowned, glancing around the quiet room. Through the closed door the lazy tune of an American Christmas song made its way to your ears. You recognized the singer. Elvis Presley. The King of Rock and Roll. Laughter charged the music with a warm undercurrent. The infectious snicker that belonged to Barton mixed with the high-pitched giggle of his son to create a different kind of melody. You dropped your shoulders and let all of the air out of your lungs. Natalia pulled you closer until her spine pressed flush into your front. Her hands felt like ice, but you didn’t mind. You had always run hot.

“Barton asked me if we were a couple on the ride up,” you said.

“Oh yeah? And what did you say?” She asked, watching the snow swirl in arcs outside. The wind rushed down, only for the next gust to excite the flakes into the navy sky again.

“I told him it was complicated. And that we are friends.”

“And what if we made it less complicated?”

You pulled away to tug off your sweatshirt, feeling feverishly warm. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what if we gave it a shot? We can call it what we want, we don’t have to call it anything at all. You could stay in my room some nights, or I could stay in yours. Maybe I’d let you kiss me,” she said, scrunching her nose and lifting one eyebrow.

You laid the shirt on the bed, folding it into a tight little rectangle. The offer dangled in the vanilla scented air, taunting you. There must be a candle burning downstairs. You wanted so badly to say yes. To give yourself over to Natalia completely. Somewhere in between your heart and your throat the words got caught. A dark entity snagged what you wanted to say in its rows of jagged teeth and ripped it to shreds. “I think our friendship works,” you said.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she sighed. “I was being selfish.”

“No, you were not. You could never be selfish. I am sorry,” you said, kneeling beside your bag and placing the sweatshirt inside. You would slit your own throat if Natalia Romonava asked you to. How cruel was it that you couldn’t tell her you cared?

She crossed the softly lit bedroom, coming to rest by the door where you hung your head in defeat. “There’s nothing you need to be sorry for,” she said. Her voice washed over you and carried away some of the pain in your chest like the sea’s cool tide. Her fingers combed through the short hairs at the base of your neck. You leaned into her, resting your forehead on her leg. She smelled of the air after a storm and the beginnings of a fresh wound. “Come on. Let’s get downstairs before they put out a search warrant.”

You pushed yourself from the ground, an all too familiar action, and followed her into the greater expanse of the house.

“There you are,” Clint greeted, pulling cups out of a cabinet. “Just in time.”

“Hi,” Laura smiled, crossing the kitchen and offering a hand. “I didn’t properly introduce myself before. I’m Laura.”

“Natasha,” Natalia said, shaking the woman’s hand.

“Cooper, come wash your hands!” Clint called. The boy ran in from the living room, making a beeline for the sink.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Barton,” you said, clasping her hand. Her palm held faded callouses.

“Oh, please. It’s Laura. You come to my house, you call me Laura. Gosh, Mrs. Barton makes me feel old,” she said, smiling good-naturedly. “You two make me feel old. How old are you?”

“Twenty one,” Natalia answered.

“Oh, wow,” she blinked widely. “Clint, you’ve got a run for your money. You might have to retire soon.”

“Tell me about it,” he said. “You should try sparring with Nat, hon. I’ve never been more sore in my life.” Clint scooped Cooper up and set him at the table. “Alright buddy hang tight, I’m gonna go grab your sister.”

“How are you guys doing at SHIELD? Fury not giving you too much grief I hope,” Laura said, grabbing a couple of plates and handing them over.

“You know Fury?” Natalia asked, recalculating the other woman.

“Oh, yeah. I knew Fury before he was such a hotshot. I knew him when he was still an ambitious agent gunning for the reins.” She scooped a bunch of mac and cheese into a bowl and carried it around to Cooper. “Feels like yesterday I was in the field though.”

“You were a SHIELD agent?” You asked, interest peaked.

“Yep. Had a fancy codename too. People used to call me the Mockingbird.” The three of you settled at the table, plates filled with turkey and potatoes and sauteed green beans. “Don’t tell Clint I told you this but when he joined he chased after me for months before I’d even look in his direction. Don’t let him ever fool you, he’s always been a big dork.”

“Don’t tell Clint what now?” He asked, walking in with a baby in his arms. She couldn’t have been more than six months old. Natalia’s eyes went wide, her mouth parted open. She looked as if she were about to spring from her chair. You knew she had a soft spot for kids, but didn’t know it ran this deep. You looked from her to the baby and back again, head tilting. She’d never looked that excited to see you.

“Just sharing your most embarrassing moments,” Laura said.

“Great.” He took a seat, cradling the baby in one hand and picking a fork up in the other. He pointed the utensil across the table at you and Natalia. “Just remember I’m still your superior,” he said.

“The food is great, Laura,” you said in between bites. You forced yourself to slow down. You guessed you hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you sat down. SHIELD cafeteria food was certainly less than subpar.

“Thank you. Clint, you better take notes from this one. The kid has better manners than you.”

“I’ll have you know that you chose to marry me,” he retorted.

“That I did,” she conceded, dipping her head. “And I’ve never had cause to regret it…so far.”

“So far? Clint asked. “How could you ever say no to this face?” He jutted his bottom lip out and pouted.

Laura shook her head and grinned, almond eyes sparkling. “You are a child. I’m raising three children.” She turned away from her husband. “Anyway, I was asking you two about SHIELD. Clint told me you’ve taken the place by storm.”

“It’s been good,” Natalia answered carefully. In the face of two senior agents, you had to choose your words carefully, even if one of them was retired from the organization. She donned a coy smile you recognized as one reserved for when she was chasing an objective and dipped her chin, peering up at the couple. “Everyone’s just been so great. We’ve been getting along perfectly, haven’t we?”

You took the signal and nodded in agreement. “I have found SHIELD to be an exceptional establishment.”

“I honestly think Fury would take that as an insult,” Clint said. “There’s no penalty for criticism. There’s a reason we’re spies and not soldiers.”

Natalia tilted her head, listening. You knew she gave the archer’s words considerable weight. “I think the director would agree that it’s considerably better than where we came from,” she said. “Which makes it near perfect in my eyes.”

Your leg bounced underneath the table, on the verge of taking off. To hear Natalia sing the song of American praise grated on your nerves. The worst thing was that she sounded genuine. She liked working under Fury. To you SHIELD was a pit stop on the way to a new life. For the woman who everyone underestimated and no one but you could decipher however, there was no escape plan, no next step. She’d convinced herself this was home.

“I’ll drink to that,” Clint said. “I’m where I am now because of SHIELD. And I wouldn’t trade this for the world.”

Laura practically beamed. “You sweet talker. I love you.” The feeling like you didn’t belong here roiled over you like a nauseating fever. You snapped to attention when you heard your name. “How are you adjusting?” Laura asked, eyes far too sympathetic.

“Fine,” you grimaced. You couldn’t help but think back on the lengths SHIELD had gone to glean information from you and remold you to a proper agent. In the end, they had been weaker than you. You were cast iron forged in the backwoods of Russia. You did not adjust. You did not yield.

“What does Fury have you working on?” She asked. “I know I can’t have the details anymore. I don’t think I’d want them anyhow, but...He’s getting you guys back out there all right?”

“Yeah. They call us Strike Team Alpha. We have been working with Agents Coulson and Hill to–,” you cut yourself off. You had been working to track down the Red Room and formulate a strategy to take out Dreykov. You complied enough to be deemed cooperative, but kept vital intelligence to yourself. Even still, time trickled away like sand in an hourglass. They’d have him before long, and you weren’t certain you could stick around to see it through. “We have been busy,” you pivoted. “We work with Clint a lot. Your husband is a good man.”

“That he is,” she agreed. “But don’t discount yourself either.”

“Do not worry,” you said. “I know exactly what kind of person I am.”

“We all think we know who we are,” Laura said. “But most of the time it’s not as simple as we think. Lives are multi-faceted and it’s impossible to understand every part of ourselves as we should.”

“She’s right, you know,” Clint added. “I never thought I’d work for the government, much less ever be a father. But here I am.” He looked down on the sleeping baby tucked in his arm, running a thumb over her chubby cheek.

Under the table Natalia tugged on your pinky finger, intertwining her finger with yours. She squeezed softly and the action sent a current all the way to your heart. She had a smile on her face when you looked over, cat-green eyes glimmering with hope. “See?” She asked. “We can be whoever we want to be now.”

You nodded, even if it was just to reassure the woman beside you. Without order, without someone’s heels to follow you didn’t know who you were. And the prospect of discovering you weren’t worthy of all you’d been given...well that scared you more than the thought of a bullet carving a neat hole through your brain.

Clint cleared his throat and stood, walking to the counter and grabbing more food. You stared at your now empty plate, stealing a glance back at the countertop with the dishes of food. You stamped down on the flare of desire in your stomach, sitting silently and stacking your hands in your lap. “You can have more,” Laura said gently.

You shook your head quickly. “I am alright.” You were to never take more than what was allotted.

“I’m serious, we’ll never eat all of this food. Please, take more,” she insisted.

You nodded, slowly getting up and slinking away from the wooden dining table. Natalia picked up the conversation. “So, you don’t work for SHIELD anymore then?”

“No,” Laura said. “I opted out of field work when I got pregnant with Cooper and when we decided to have Lila I took myself out of the game completely. Even being a deskbound spy has a way of taking over your life.” She picked up a napkin and wiped Cooper’s cheesy face off. “At that point I knew I had greater priorities than to SHIELD. Being a parent wouldn’t be everyone’s first choice but it was the right decision for me. We moved out here from the city a little over a year ago.”

“What do you do now?” Natalia asked.

“I’m a counselor for military personnel and veterans,” she said as you sat down again. Your foot caught on one of the legs and the table jumped a few inches.

“Sorry,” you cringed, gingerly pushing it back into place.

Cooper’s eyes went wide and he clapped his hands together with little coordination. “Again.”

“The table is pretty dense,” Laura explained. “We had trouble moving it in here and now Cooper’s made a game out of trying to push it around. Clint won’t touch it though, he’s worried he’ll hurt his back.”

“Ah,” you said, staring down at your lap. You didn’t like people knowing how strong you were. Nothing good had ever come from it. The serum was a fear tactic, a killer’s tool. The doctor’s at SHIELD had been practically drooling with questions when they found out, needles armed and ready behind their backs. “Must be lighter than you remember.”

“I’m done,” Cooper announced, slamming his spoon down.

“Cooper Barton!” Laura chastised. “What do we say when we’re done?”

The toddler grumbled, pushing his empty bowl away. “May I be excused?”

“Yes you may,” his mother answered.

He jumped from his chair and ran around the table back to the living room. Clint ruffled his thick brown hair as he sped past. “Attaboy,” he saluted.

Laura carried the dishes over to the sink, running the water and filling the basin. You stood abruptly, snapping to attention. “I can take care of it.” You’d been sitting around for too long and letting people work for you. You needed to do something with your hands. She waved you off, not sparing a glance. “Please,” you said, ants crawling beneath your skin.

She turned to you and something on your face must have given you away. “Okay. You’re not going to hear any argument from me.”

You gathered up the rest of the plates from the table and scraped the food scraps into the trash. Chore rotations had been part of the routine growing up and the repetitive nature of scrubbing plate after plate calmed you some.

“Let me help,” Clint offered, handing the baby off to Laura and joining you in the kitchen.

“Why don’t we go out to the den?” Laura offered to Natalia. “Let the boys clean up in here.” She whispered into the redhead’s ear as they left the room. You couldn’t make out the words.

You handed a clean plate to Clint for him to dry. “Thank you,” you said. The kitchen was cozy, all wooden floors and off-white countertops. The fridge stood across from the sink, decorated in crayon drawings and various magnets in the shape of dinosaurs.

“You’re welcome. Laura gets on me all the time for forgetting to clean up anyway. Figured I could earn some points while I’m home.”

“I meant for bringing us here,” you clarified. “It has been, nice.” Nice was a safe word. “You have a nice home. You were right. I think I was–hm, what is the term? Something crazy. Like when you are stuck inside for too long.”

“Stir crazy?”

“Ah yes. I was being stir crazy,” you said. “I am glad to be far away from the compound, from the job, all of it.”

“You were going stir crazy, not being stir crazy,” he said.

“Ah. I do not struggle with languages too much, but the figures of speech are always difficult to follow.”

“I’m glad you’re comfortable here. It’s nice to be able to share this with someone,” he admitted. “Fury is literally the only other person who knows about this part of my life. It’s kind of exhausting walking around pretending it doesn’t exist.”

LIttle footsteps came pounding around the corner and into the kitchen. Cooper crashed into Clint’s leg, tugging on his shirt to get his attention. “Mama said I have to help. Lila is sleeping,” he panted.

“Why don’t you dry this off for me, bud?” Clint handed him a rag and a plastic cup.

You watched the boy as he cleaned the cup, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth. “I will protect your secret, Clint. I know Nata-” You caught yourself before finishing the second half of her name. “Natasha will too.” The sound still felt awkward on your tongue.

“Thank you,” he said, laying a warm hand on your shoulder. The muscles in your back tensed, pinching your shoulder blades together. You inhaled and counted to five. You didn’t pull away. “I’ve made a lot of dumb decisions in my life, and I mean a lot. Taking a chance on the two of you though…that I don’t think I’ll ever regret.”

Part of you preened at the praise, no matter who’s lips it fell from. The other part reared at the fact you responded to someone other than your designated handlers. “You are welcome,” you said.

“Done!” Cooper announced, handing the dry cup back to his father. “Can I go play now?”

“Yeah, sure bud. We’ll be right out.”

You put the last plate away and drained the sink before joining Natalia and Laura in the living room. You froze when you rounded the corner and saw Natalia. She held Lila in her arms, the most tender smile on her face as she watched over the baby. Laura knelt by the fireplace, stoking the logs before shutting the grate. The mantle held little framed photographs of the Barton family and red and green stockings hung over the fire. A Christmas tree stood in the corner, yellow lights shining like halos. A star topped the tree, inches away from scraping the ceiling. Natalia sat on the couch cradling the baby as she played with one of her fingers.

Cooper slid onto the bench at an upright piano, mashing away at the keys. “Not right now, Coop,” Clint said. “You ought to be winding down for bed. We all have to be asleep for when Santa comes, remember?” You blinked at the instrument, starstruck. Longing filled your chest like air in a balloon.

“Fine,” he whined, but listened and scooted from the bench.

Natalia swiveled her head, careful not to shift and disturb Lila. “Does one of you play?”

“I used to when I was little,” Laura said. “The piano belonged to my grandparents originally. I don’t think I could play much of anything anymore.”

“I can play.” Clint piped up.

“Twinkle Twinkle Little Star does not count, babe.”

“You know who can play?” Natalia spoke up. You imagined the expression on her face, one eyebrow raised and mouth poised in a smirk.

“Who?” Cooper asked, rounding the couch and sitting on the coffee table.

“I’ll give you a hint,” she said. “They’re in the room with us right now.”

“Is it me?” He pointed to himself, little eyebrows furrowed as deep as he could make them go.

“Nope,” Natalia answered, voice sing-song sweet.

“Is it you?” He twisted his head to the side and pointed at Natalia. She shook her head and Cooper looked around the room, eyes catching on his mother and father before landing on you. “Your friend,” he said.

“Yep,” she said. You could hear the smile in her voice.

“I knew it. I knew it,” he insisted.

You tore your gaze away from the piano as attention fell onto you. “Oh.” You waved them off. “I would not say I could play. I posed as a pianist in a hotel lobby for a mission once a long time ago. Memorized some music that is all. I am not classically trained.” You crossed your arms to ward off the unease that accompanied so many eyes on you.

“Do you still know it?” Laura asked.

“Yeah, I do.” Your peculiar memory would never allow you to forget. And you’d never tell a soul, but sitting there at a piano all night long had made you feel alive in a way nothing had before. But that couldn’t be. Musicians were jesters, and you were no fool.

“We’d love to hear it,” Laura said, picking Cooper up and settling down with him on her lap. “If you’re comfortable. I hate the thought of the piano just turning into decor.”

“Okay,” you said. You were never one to shy away from a task. “I am afraid I do not know any Christmas songs.”

“That’s all right. I’m sure whatever you know will be beautiful,” Laura encouraged.

Clint stood in the corner, eyes upturned to the ceiling. He perked up, springing into action. “I’ll be right back,” he said, jogging upstairs.

You took a seat on the polished wooden bench, stroking the keys and marveling at the instrument. You warmed up, playing a couple scales and conjuring the music in your mind’s eye. The patterns were as fresh as the day you had played them. The notes from the aged piano were by no means comparable to that of the expensive grand you’d used before, but somehow the music sounded sweeter here. As you struck the opening bars of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata you craned your neck to find Natalia’s gaze. She smiled at you and you couldn’t help but mirror the expression. Your heart picked up its beating and your head buzzed with a strange feeling. You felt as if you might explode with it.

You took to the music like you took to fighting, or dancing. You didn’t struggle with movement like other people did. Ever since you could remember you could watch and replicate. Eventually you learned to mimic a fighter’s strategy so that you could predict their next moves. Flay their neck into a gushing fountain before they could touch you.

Your foot pumped the pedal in time with your left hand and when you closed your eyes you could see the notes weaving into the dark. You liked how the music elicited harmony instead of chaos. Music didn’t scrape the skin from your knuckles or leave you lying on the floor with the world spinning around you. You changed the song, easing into Chopin’s Nocturne in E Flat.

Clint came marching down the stairs, CD player in one hand and a disk in the other. He stayed quiet for a moment, busying himself with finding an outlet to plug the player into. Finding a natural way to end the song prematurely, you slowed your hands and lightened the force with which you struck the keys. Clint stood near the other end of the couch, doing his best to look patient.

“Barton?” You asked.

“I told you earlier that I was going to teach you the joy of Christmas music,” he said. “Well, here you go. Now you can play along and really appreciate the music.” He knelt down and pressed the play button.

An easy tune filled the living room, bathing all in attendance in a sense of peace. Time seemed to slow, and for a moment, you forgot about the world outside of the farmhouse. All that mattered was the family reaching out in embrace, two parents and a little boy. Their smiles shone brighter than the blazing fire in the hearth. You watched the woman settled on the couch, absorbed by the baby in her arms. She looked up at you as you traced the curve of her jaw with your eyes. Natalia’s pupils were wide when she met your gaze, and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. You looked away first to stare at the piano instead, focusing on the music instead of the way your cheeks warmed in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature.

You caught onto the song as it began to repeat, taking a shallow breath before following along. Just like with anything else music obeyed a pattern. Once you unlocked the way the parts fit together, the rest of the song revealed itself to you. All you had to do was continue the line of code. The next track played, prompting Cooper to sing along. Imperfection had never sounded so flawless.

The CD turned out song after song and you let yourself get lost in the game. You didn’t recognize any of the pieces, but Christmas music had a distinctive charm to it. Some might call it magical. You sat back for the first thirty seconds of each song, picking out the tempo and key. The notes charged your hands with energy which you poured out into the latter half of the song. Each one was unique, a victorious smile forming on your face when you pulled together the entire arrangement in your head.

When the tracklist ended you took a breath, feeling lighter than you had in a long time. Laura took Lila from Natalia, holding her tight against her shoulder. Her hand, a mother’s hand, rested on the sleeping baby’s back. “I’m going to put her down,” she said, just loud enough to be heard.

“Hey bud.” Clint gently shook Cooper awake from where he’d fallen asleep on the couch against his leg. “It’s time to brush our teeth and go to bed.”

The boy only turned further into Clint’s body, refusing to be stirred.

Clint stood and picked him up. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

Only after his footsteps had receded upstairs did either one of you move. Natalia pushed herself from the couch and stretched. Her arms extended toward the ceiling with a dancer’s grace. She took a seat next to you on the bench and laid her head on your shoulder. “That was amazing,” she said. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“That is all you,” you said. “I did not know you were so good with babies.”

“Me neither,” she admitted. “When Laura asked me to hold her I was so nervous at first. I thought I might drop her or pinch her or that I’d make her cry.” She lifted her head, her gaze soft as a lamb’s. You wanted to preserve it so that no one may ever taint it, including from yourself. “But she was okay.”

“That is because you are a good person. They say babies have a sixth sense for that sort of thing. Like dogs.”

“But, I’ve hurt so many people,” she said, voice fragile like a twig in a storm. “I’m afraid…I'm afraid I’ll never be able to redeem myself.”

“No. Do not say that, Natalia. You are the best person I know. The fact you care so much means you are already there.” You huffed a quick exhale. “I think you are the only person who cannot see how big your heart is.”

“They say the holidays are for spending time with the people you love the most,” she whispered, tracing the lines on your palm with her finger.

You stayed quiet.

“I’m glad that I’m here with you,” she said.

Another window, another chance to dive off the deep end. I think I’m in love with you, you thought. The laws of society had been drilled into your head by the Madames and reinforced by what little exposure of the world you’d received. Natalia stood in defiance to all of them. She was a sapling in a field of ash, and refused to be uprooted. She turned to grace like you turned to anger. She was infecting you, and you couldn’t push her away.

Footsteps sounded down the stairs and you shut your previously parted mouth. The words scattered into the recesses of your throat. “Hey guys,” Clint said. “The kids are down and Laura and I still have a lot of Santa’s work to do. You’re more than welcome to stay down here and watch TV or whatever. We’ll be around. Just holler if you need anything.”

“Okay,” Natalia said. “Thank you.” He turned to go. “And Clint. Merry Christmas.” She smiled.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, giving a sharp nod.

You yawned. Between the food and the warmth and the music, tiredness had snuck up on you. “Let’s go upstairs,” Natalia said.

“Okay.” You left the piano behind and made your way upstairs. You brushed your teeth and splashed water on your face in the hall bathroom. The shower curtain was adorned with colorful flaming monster trucks and a little blue step stool gave height before the sink. Cooper must have primary use of this one.

Natalia sat on the edge of the mattress in the bedroom, untangling her braid with deft fingers. You stole a pillow and dropped it on the floor on the other side near the door. “What are you doing?” She asked.

“I am going to sleep.” You didn’t meet her eyes.

“Why are you being weird? We’ve slept in the same bed before,” she said.

“That was different,” you insisted.

“How so?” She asked, infuriatingly patient.

You crossed your arms over your chest and rolled your shoulders back, shadows of old handlers and teachers flickering behind your eyes. “Because…because there were lines before. Ones we did not cross.” Emotional ones. “It was survival. You were a warm body.”

A smudge of hurt clouded over Natalia’s bright eyes. She blinked and it disappeared. “You don’t mean that.”

You paced the length of the room, wishing you could run farther. You meant it and you also didn’t. “Of course not. I am sorry,” you breathed.

“Then come here. All we’re doing is sleeping. I’m not letting you stay on the floor like a dog.” She combed through her hair, waves of red cascading down past her shoulders.

Except it wasn’t just sleeping. If you indulged in this vice once you’d never want to quit it. You’d paw desperately at her door every night. You shook your head and backed away like a spooked horse. “I have slept in worse places.”

“Is it me?” She asked, shoulders slumping with the words. “Do you not trust me?”

“No. No, it is not you.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

You shook your head as if to fling the question away. The problem was that you weren’t cut out for relationships of any kind. Didn’t she know how dangerous you were? Shouldn’t she know that you bit? “There is no problem.”

“I know you well enough to know when you’re not telling me something.” You started to get the feeling this wasn’t really about where you slept anymore.

“Can we talk about this in the morning?” You tried, rubbing furiously at the back of your head.

“No. I hate feeling like you’re not comfortable around me,” she said. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“No. I trust you with my life. You know that.” Your voice cracked at the end. It was never her fault, and you hated yourself for not being able to be what she needed. To reassure and support her. To be normal.

“Then please, tell me what’s going on.”

“I–”

“What are you so afraid of?” She asked the question at barely more than a whisper, but the words lit a spark in you like a gunshot.

“Leave it Natalia,” you commanded in Russian, spinning on your heel. You fixed her with a cold stare, no longer seeing her as you should be. Perched on the bed sat the Black Widow, and she had broken rank.

“No,” she scolded, rising to meet the challenge. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. We are not in the Red Room. Do you understand?” Anyone else and you would have seized them and smacked them clean across the cheek. Anyone else and they’d have a dozen fresh bruises to remind them of their place. But this was Natalia. And you’d never hurt Natalia. You clenched your jaw and drew your lips back, fighting the urge to pound the wall in.

“I hate you.” You felt as if you’d just barely outran an onslaught of attackers, and they were still watching.

“No you don’t,” she said, face still as marble and expressive as a wall of stone.

“Why are you here? Why will you not leave? You are the reason I am like this,” you said, voice cracking as a growing child's did. If it wasn’t for her you’d be perfect, you knew it. Instead she tempted you down a path of distraction, convinced you to embrace weakness.

“I’m here because I will always stand beside you. Always,” she said as if it was all too simple.

“But you left. You were going to die and leave me alone.” Defecting to SHIELD had not been her original plan. Letting them kill her was. Lucky it had been Clint Barton behind the trigger that night. “And now I am stuck here because of you and I hate it.”

“You feel stuck?” For a second the wall slipped and a flash of hurt escaped Natalia’s gaze.

“Yes,” you said. “I do. You ruined my life.” Red hot anger ignited itself within you. And it was all aimed at the woman before you.

“I didn’t make you do anything. I never have,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re here because you know deep down that the Red Room is an awful place. A place that takes little children and beats them into weapons.”

“It made us strong.”

“It broke us.”

You grimaced and kicked aimlessly at the ground. “I still cannot stand it here.” The wrath began to dissipate. Shame swelled to take its place.

“We are safer now than we ever have been.”

“I cannot trust you. You are a Widow. You–You are lying to me. You always have been.” Paranoia twisted smiles into smirks, kind words into carefully crafted scalpels. She’d learn all of your weaknesses and leave you gutted on top of her rotting pile of victims.

“I am not a Widow. Not anymore. Do you understand?”

You grunted an acknowledgement.

“Markov.” She called your surname. “Yes or no.”

“Yes,” you ground out. “I understand.” Regret pooled in your belly like bile. She had asked what you were so afraid of and you’d gone and shown her. The closer Natalia became the less control you felt you had. Emotions twisted together in a whirlwind inside your head, mutating into a throbbing mass of anger. Natalia handled her emotions, always choosing the correct words and wearing the face she wanted people to see. Dreykov had taught you that pretty words were for the Widows and the women. Unchecked, the rage festered until your hands shook with it. “I do not want to hurt you,” you said, switching back to English with an accent hanging heavy over the words.

“I know,” she sighed. “But you do, you know. When you lash out at me it hurts.”

A dozen excuses ran through your head. None of them even came close to making it up. You were just a bad person. “This is why you have to let me sleep on the floor.” You felt as though you’d finally been allowed to regain control of your body after some raging force had overtaken you. It left you dizzy with the shame of your words.

Natalia didn’t say anything. Her green gaze bore straight through you. Vulnerability raked at your spine as if she held your bleeding heart in her fist.

“Please,” you added. You did not beg.

“You can sleep on the floor,” she relented. The cool release of relief soothed your aching mind. “But you have to promise me something.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me that when we get back you’ll work on talking through whatever’s going on in your mind. If not with me that’s fine. But you have to talk to someone.”

The offer was steep. The urge to shut it all in was more than an instinct. Being guarded was the key to your survival. “Fine.” If tearing yourself apart meant Natalia could find peace, you would rip the flesh away yourself. “I can do that.”

She blinked as if she hadn’t expected you to agree. “Here.” She held out a blanket that had been folded at the end of the bed.

“Thank you.” You shut off the light and laid on the floor. For a moment before your eyes adjusted you couldn’t see a thing besides pitch black. Your heart thundered in your chest as shapes began to fall back into focus. The rectangle dresser, the thick bed frame, the moonlight filtering in through the blinds on the window. Covered in the rather large blanket and supported by the carpeted floor you fell asleep.

You dreamt most nights. Vivid atrocities doused in blood and the screams of pigs to the slaughter. The tip of a sword, plunged through the hearts of the guilty and innocent alike. A metal fist, knocking you sideways and ramming you in the face until your eyes swelled shut. Never stopping until its master called it off. Faceless bodies behind surgical masks, watching as you writhed under a spotlight like a bug under a magnifying glass. A burn beneath your skin so violent your jaw locked with the pain and you felt as if you couldn’t even draw the tiniest of breaths.

None of them held a candle to the nightmare that cursed you tonight. It had visited since you were small, and it came often. Not just the feeling, but the memory of being suspended in limbo.

Your limbs froze, even your neck refused to lift your head as you stared at a single spot on the popcorn ceiling. The walls, the fear-soaked smell of your own sweat, the buzz of a lamp to your right all closed in on you. You couldn’t cry, you couldn’t speak, it took everything you had just to breathe.

Time stretched on and all you could do was lay there and stare at the ceiling. You tried to focus on the drone of the lamp instead of the heavy panting a foot away from you. But you never could completely. Your chest constricted with every breath but never reached the point of constriction. Your stomach crackled with repulsion, but bile never rose into your throat. You forever hung teetering on the edge, violation wrapped around your frail body.

I’m trapped. I’m trapped. I’m trapped. I’m–

Your eyes flew open and you sat up, knocking skulls with someone else. A strangled noise leapt from your mouth into the silent air. No buzzing lamp. No heavy breathing besides your own. Your limbs had become tangled in a blanket and you thrashed to free yourself.

Your head snapped up at the sound of your name. The word lassoed your mind and hauled you to the present. Concerned green eyes peered at you in the dark. You knew those eyes. For a second you imagined they belonged to a child no older than thirteen. She wasn’t supposed to be in your room. She wasn’t supposed to see you like this. “What are you doing in here?” You thrust your hand out to keep her away. “Get out.”

“Hey,” Natalia said, voice as gentle as the evening breeze. Her kindness would get her killed. She spoke your name again and the illusion dissolved some more. “You’re safe. You were dreaming. We’re at Clint Barton’s house in Iowa.”

You got to your feet on shaky legs, looking through the woman in front of you. The room around you was not the one in the lingering dream and not the one you grew up sleeping in.

A cool hand found your cheek and tilted your gaze down. “Come back,” Natalia said.

The shadows fled, no match for her. Not truly gone, but subdued for now. “I am sorry I woke you,” you said.

“Don’t apologize.” She drew a breath. “I was awake anyways.”

“I guess sleep is not especially kind to either of us.”

“No. I guess not.”

She pulled away, stepping into the splash of moonlight on the wall. You thought she looked like an angel, or maybe a ghost. Either way she looked ethereal, as if she might turn to smoke if you reached out to touch her.

“I thought you said you’d grown out of them,” she whispered, facing the light, and away from where you hunkered out of its reach.

Your jaw twitched. “I lied.”

She nodded to herself. Disappointed but not surprised. You thought she might berate you for it, present a list of the consequences until they were seared into your brain. Instead she just extended a hand and said, “Come here.”

You fell into her and let her pull you onto the edge of the bed. You sat there, feet planted on the floor. “I hope I did not wake anyone else,” you said.

“You didn’t,” she said, settling down beside you. “You were so quiet. I almost didn’t notice something was wrong.”

“What happened?”

“I just…had the feeling something was wrong. That I needed to check on you.” She turned your forearm up and traced her thumb over the pulse point on your wrist. “Your forehead was all sweaty and you were breathing super fast. You seemed so scared.”

“I am okay,” you said.

“It’s okay to not be sometimes. I think I’m starting to learn that.”

“I really am.” You wanted to say more. You chewed on your lip, staring at the door as if it could tell you what to do. Natalia, so small yet stronger than you in a million ways. She deserved to know how much she meant to you. “I am always more than okay when you are with me. You make me feel safe.”

“Do you mean it?” Her eyes met yours, pupils blown amidst the fern green iris. You wondered if it was because of you or the dark.

“Yes,” you said. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I think…I would go through all of it again just to keep you.”

“I don’t know if I’m worth that much.” You wished she could see herself through your eyes so that she understood.

“Natalia Romanova, you are worth the entire world.” Hesitantly you leaned over and kissed her temple, lips just grazing the soft skin. You pulled away, scanning her face for any sign of reproach. “Was that okay?”

“It was more than okay,” she said. She leaned her weight against you, shoulders pressing into each other.

You sat like that for a while, listening to the sound of her gentle breathing and basking in the peaceful moment. Maybe if you could remember how you felt now you could summon the strength to serve SHIELD. You allowed your mind to wander to places you normally didn’t entertain. Someday you and Natalia would have your own place like this. A bubble no one else could touch where you could sit just like this every night. You would never have it though, only the filmy mirage of pretense.

Natalia moved to the other side of the bed, laying down on her side. “Come lay down with me,” she said.

You didn’t want to return to the floor, but you weren’t sure you could stay on the bed either.

“Please.” Behind you the best dipped and a pair of arms slid around you. One of her hands came to rest right above your heart. She tucked her chin into the space between your neck and shoulder and involuntarily, you dropped your head against hers. “It is Christmas after all.”

Natalia tugged you down and you let her, lowering yourself until your back was flush against the mattress and your head lay in her lap. You refused to move your legs, leaving them draped over the side. “I am so sorry for the things I said earlier. I did not mean it.” Shame stabbed at your lungs and behind your eyes. Your jaw ached with it, and your tongue was sour with traces of your own bitterness.

“It’s okay. I understand,” she said. You didn’t deserve her tenderness.

“You should not have to, Natalia. It is not fair for you to deal with.”

“Remember when we promised each other we’d never leave the other one alone?”

You huffed a dry laugh. “We could not have been more than fourteen years old.”

“So more than old enough to know what we were saying,” she countered.

“It will happen again,” you said, tone darkening.

“And I’ll be there when it does.”

“I cannot control it. Sometimes things happen and I feel everyone is out to get me.” You flicked your gaze away from her face. “Then the shouting and the hateful words and the rage comes. I do things I cannot take back.”

“That’s why you need people who know that that isn’t really you. Who know you’re kind and loyal to the bone. Who will help you heal.”

“I am not sick,” you insisted.

“I know. But we need to understand whatever this is,” she said. “Before it gets you into trouble with the wrong people.”

You took a deep breath, ribs shuddering like the bars of a rusted cage. “I am scared,” you whispered.

Natalia ran a calloused hand across your cheek. “I know,” she said. “Just know you’re not alone. We’ll figure this out together.”

You nodded your head, afraid that speaking might reveal the lump in your throat.

“Come on, let’s get some rest,” she said, tugging on the collar of your shirt.

“You are unbelievable,” you mumbled.

“What happened to me being the best person ever?”

“You can be both.”

She peered down at you, eyes alight with mischief. “I haven’t heard a ‘no’.”

Exhaustion had broken down your resolve, and you’d have a better chance of sleeping through the rest of the night in the bed. “Okay.” Your agreement had nothing to do with the way Natalia blinked slowly at you, nor the way she had taken to sifting her fingers through your hair.

“Finally,” she said, lips quirking up in a victorious smile. “You’re almost as stubborn as me. Not quite though.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you said, pushing yourself fully onto the bed. “Do not make me change my mind.”

You laid down and Natalia settled her head on your chest. “You’re so warm,” she said.

“Is that why you wanted me up here? Cause you were cold?”

“No,” she said as she pressed her cheek further into your collarbone. “Go to sleep.”

“Goodnight Natalia.”

“Goodnight.”

You woke in the morning not to the terror of memory infiltrating your mind but to sunlight illuminating the space before your eyelids. You blinked rapidly, clearing away the morning bleariness. You couldn't recall the last time you had started your day after sunup.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” Natalia said, still buried into your side. Under the sheet her legs tangled up in yours.

You yawned, stretching your arms above your head. “Have you been awake long?”

“No,” she said. “Just a few minutes maybe. I think we should get up though. I imagine Cooper will be awake soon. It would be cruel to keep him waiting. I remember how exciting Christmas morning was.” She said, sounding far away. “It wasn’t real, but…there is something really magical about this time of year.”

You rubbed gentle circles on her upper back in between her shoulder blades where you knew she held tension. “It is real now, no? For the Bartons and for us, Christmas means something?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, crinkles around her eyes when she looked at you. “This is real.” You had a feeling she wasn’t referring to the holidays anymore.

“Before we go downstairs I have something for you,” you said. You palmed the thin silver necklace that had been stored in your bag. “Turn around and close your eyes.”

“Should I be nervous?” She asked as she faced away from you.

“No, no.” You clasped the chain around her neck. “Okay you can look now.”

Natalia examined the charm, cupping it in her hand. “I um—I didn’t get you anything.”

“And you do not need to,” you said. “You are all I could ever want.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“Clint took me out. I was saving it for the right time. Now seemed perfect.” You looked at the little silver sword strung hilt to blade tip along the necklace. Your signature weapon. “Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you,” she said, smiling up at you in a way that made your head go empty and quiet. You felt as if everything might be okay when she smiled at you.

“It is, uh…It is to remind you that I am always on your side. That I am always with you even when it may seem like I am not.” Your heart pounded with fear she may reject the gift. She would cast it aside, and you with it.

“It’s perfect,” she said instead. “You’re perfect.”

“Merry Christmas Natalia.”

“Merry Christmas.”

A/N: The drive from D.C. to Iowa is definitely NOT doable in the time they make it in the story.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader

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mybworlds · 1 month

Text

CHAPTER 10

status: ongoing

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: your life is full of 'must'. You live with your overprotective mother who controls every aspect of your life. You have a dream, to write romance novels, but love - real love - you haven't found yet. Your mother has even decided what you must do in your free time: play music. One day, however, when you go to your music teacher's house, you will have an unexpected encounter and from that day on things change…

Masterlist

rating: 18+ explicit (minors, DNI)

Before to start... Thank you for your support, for your likes and reblog, thank you, thank you, thank you ❤️If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging and leaving comments 🫶 if you don't like it don't be rude and keep going. 😉 Please remember English is not my first language, so please be merciful! 🙏

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner and thanks @saradika-graphics for the divider.

Joel shortly after invites you to close your eyes and you obey by covering your eyes with your hands, when you feel his bed fold under his weight and he tells you that you can open your eyes, you see in front of you in his hands a brand new computer with a small rosette on it.

You widen your eyes and in a whisper you say, "Joel, but…today is not my birthday…I…I…don't…" you are totally speechless, you stare at that appliance as if it is one of the most precious things you have ever seen, then you stare at the man sitting next to you who knows how to warm your heart even with these seemingly trivial gifts, but not for you.

"Sssh, it doesn't matter 's not your birthday," he says putting the computer on the cover "you told me you had a computer and I thought you didn't have it anymore to talk about it in the past and then I know you want to write. And so I thought…" you don't let him complete the speech because you throw your arms around his neck feeling your eyes pinch with joy.

"Oh, Joel. I…" you don't know what to say, this gift is totally unexpected. You hide your face in the crook of his neck for a few seconds as he lays his hand on the nape of your neck in a sweet gesture, then you look at him, "Thank you-- I don't know what to say. But, how…when…?"

He smiles lowering his gaze for a moment "Remember when I wrote ya I was still in the other city and wouldn't finish work until 5?" you nod "Well, actually I was already here, but I was deciding which model to buy. Actually I know nothing 'bout computers and I hope I got ya a good model."

"Oh, Joel," you squeak, "you know I can't take it home with me, though," you remind him regretfully.

He shrugs his shoulders, "Leave it here, he'll be our little secret."

Thankfully it stopped snowing, slowly snow and cold are giving way to sunshine and beautiful days. It warms your heart to feel nature reborn and blooming again. Although there is a constant gray cloud over your head: your mother and her behavior. Indeed, going back to your home, expecting to be the same as before, acting the same as before, praying with your mother before meals and before bedtime causes cramps in your stomach. You are no longer the little girl who used to submit to your mother's will to please her, that obedient little girl who did and said whatever her mother wanted is no longer there. Of course, you have respect for her and her role, but many things you no longer tolerate or want to do: it's unbearable. Before for you to do everything she told you seemed almost right, almost normal, today for example having her drive you to work and feel her look at you until she sees that you are inside, has become too much. You'd like to let her know that it's probably time for her to let you fly away, but you already know what her response will be: honey sooner or later you will, but as long as you are under my roof that will not happen. Maybe it would be time to think about getting away, leaving your home, but to go where? It's true you work, but you don't earn that much, sure you put some money aside, but you could never afford rent, not yet. Also because you haven't worked for many months. You could go to your friends, but for how long? You don't want to be a burden to either sweet Kristen or feisty Gina or that meddlesome Helen, you couldn't stand the look in their eyes of someone who can't wait to have their freedom back.

"Excuse me can I have this coffee!" a customer blurts out rolling his eyes and shaking his head "These kids today!" he adds in an exasperated tone.

"Yes." you say. Today, all these thoughts only make you go in slow motion or get your order wrong.

The customer finally leaves. It's almost 1 p.m. therefore not many people come anymore, and so you have the luxury of sitting mournfully on one of the bar stools. You look at the incoming e-mails, hoping to find the e-mail sent for that job as an assistant librarian, but there is nothing but e-mails containing advertisements or requests for shipments of supposed packages. You block the phone.

Joel is out of town again, apparently there is some new construction to be completed, he told you about this other job that will take him out for about three weeks, then come back and then leave again. He has told you he will be back a few days just for you, and that can only please you. You are not a couple it's true, but he makes you feel as important as if you were his other half and you like the idea of being someone's other half, the idea of being his other half makes your heart beat fast for joy. Since he showed you how to touch yourself, you do it often. When your mother is away of course, you tremble at the idea that she might find you with a hand in your folds pleasuring yourself and moaning the name of a man she knows is your music teacher only. You never would have believed that day almost three months ago, when you first met each other on Tommy's doorstep, that he would become so important, that slowly he would become a fixed thought in your days. You love him, very much. That's for sure. If you thought so that day in his parents' cabin, today you are certain. You don't want and cannot do without him. At the same time, however, you feel guilty toward Jack; it's true you are not often seeing each other, but you call each other every night and often write to each other. You are very confused about what you should do and how you should behave toward both of them, but you know that sooner or later you will have to choose.

Jack, that day, gives you a surprise and picks you up outside at the bar. He greets you with a bouquet of red roses and a big smile. He kisses you tenderly on the lips and then wraps his arm around your shoulders.

"How was your day?" he asks you.

"Fine." you reply, smiling at him, "And yours? Still in the library?"

"Yes, but now I've come to pick you up to take you out to dinner," he replies, giving you a kiss on the tip of your nose.

You look at him blinking, looking puzzled. It's a gesture Joel always makes. You swallow.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asks you, noticing your expression.

"N - no, sorry … it's just that I'm very tired. I hope this place is not too far away!" you exclaim, changing the subject by smiling at him.

He barely squeezes his hand on your shoulder "No, it's a block away. All calculated for my princess."

You smile at him. He also gives you nicknames. Can life be even more unfair?

"Are you okay?" he asks once you get into the car, "You look a little absent-minded. If you don't want, we can go to my place or yours, order a pizza, lie down on the couch, and if you want I can give you a massage." he proposes.

You look at him, "You are so sweet. No, dinner is fine," you say rejecting his proposal unable not to feel guilty. He's so sweet, he's attentive, he loves you, he's handsome, but you never went further with him, you never wanted to see him in secluded places. He'd like to, in fact he pushes to see you at his home too, but you always declined. You don't want to.

"Do you know how many exams are now left until the end of my studies?" he asks you, starting the engine and moving away from there.

"No."

"Only six. Do you understand? S i x. Six!" he exclaims happily, the smile lighting up his face making it even more beautiful.

You can't help but smile, "I'm so happy for you."

Jack has a reservation at a very nice, upscale little place, you've heard great things about it from some of the customers at the bar, but until that moment you had never been there. At the entrance there's a very small flight of stairs with tanks-aquariums filled with fish, lobsters and crabs on either side. A little later two waiters greet you with a big smile as they escort you to your table, which is in a dimly lit room. You take a seat and then enthusiastically look around: all the tables have two seats, there is a central sea-colored blue runner, soft pillows with two starfish on each chair alternating with others that are completely blue and still others with little drawings of seahorses on them.

"It's beautiful here," you say looking at him dreamily.

"For my princess this and more," he replies, smiling at you.

You smile and lower your gaze.

"Please." a young waitress says bringing you menus.

You thank her and then she leaves. You decide to get a seafood appetizer and an entrée.

"You know, Jack maybe there's something about me you don't know," you tell him.

"Tell me." he replies in curiosity, laying his phone down next to his plate.

"I like to write." you decide to confess to him hoping he understands how important it is to you.

He smiles "To do what?"

"What do you mean?" you ask him wrinkling your forehead.

"Why do you write? What do you plan to do with it?"

You don't know what to answer suddenly, you have all the words and reasons on the tip of your tongue, but in this moment everything freezes inside you. You seem to hear your mother's words again when she found out that you had enrolled in a writing class and had your own computer on which to write your stories.

"Don't get me wrong, it's great to write, but if you don't take course after course after course, if you don't have specific preparation," he says waving his hands as he speaks, "you're just wasting your eyesight and risking carpal tunnel before you're 35, honey." he concludes with an annoyed smirk.

He has offended you. You feel offended. You look down feeling your eyes tingle, suddenly wanting to run away and tell him to go to hell, not to say those words to you.

"Think about serious things, for example you told me you are waiting for an e-mail as an assistant librarian, now that's an important thing. So you quit that degrading job of yours as a bartender." he comments using an abrasive tone that hurts you.

"That degrading job, as you call it, is who I am, it's part of me." you say using a firm tone even though you feel deeply hurt "Frankly, I can't understand how you can be sweet and then be such a jerk at other times." you add, only then realizing that you're trembling.

"Come on, princess, I'm only talking like this because I know you can have so much more and you deserve better," he says, spreading his arms wide as if to say he wasn't saying anything bad after all.

"Jack, you are studying psychology." you retort feeling your cheeks on fire "Yet you are saying so many horrible things."

"But what's my study got to do with it now?" he asks you with an annoyed air "If you want to quit your bartending job fine, otherwise it's okay. I'm not imposing anything on you, that's all right." he says looking at you almost offended "Excuse me bring us the bill!" he adds turning to a waiter.

You don't talk anymore and honestly better that way. You have nothing more to say to each other. He leaves you in front of the house, you get out of the car without saying goodbye without looking at him and leaving the flowers in his car.

You are mad about what he said to you, at the tone he used, almost as if he from his seat could not bear to see the girl he hangs out with dedicated in doing such a normal job or devoted to activities he says are so unsuitable for you.

"I'm home," you say as you enter and slip off your shoes. When you are in the kitchen, you find a small post-it note "Out with some friends, see you at 11:30."

You drop into a kitchen chair looking despondent, totally despondent. The more time passes, the more you notice the differences with Jack, you close your eyes and think you were a fool for believing he wanted you despite your social, cultural disparity. It saves your phone from a total meltdown. It's Joel.

"Hey babe, 's me," his tone of voice is firm, confident, but happy.

"Hi." you say without any enthusiasm.

"Did something happen?" he asks you, immediately hearing the tone of your voice cracked.

"No, it's okay." you strive to maintain a normal tone of voice.

"Doesn't sound like that to me." he replies.

"Don't worry." you say again, but this time your voice trembles a little and you know that you haven't convinced him and that this time - unlike other times - he will insist.

"Will ya tell me what's going on?" he insists.

"Oh, Joel…" you tell him everything and finally you break down, you never wanted to confide this deep discomfort of yours to him over the phone, but you can't take it anymore just cashing in, you can't take it anymore. It's not fair for you to feel this way. You know he can't do anything given the distance, but you wanted to talk to someone who would really listen to you and not judge you like everyone else does.

"If I could, I would come and get ya right away." he says as you try to control your breathing and strain to control your voice so that you can be heard and understood on the phone "Look, I'll do my best to come to ya in two days, okay?" his tone of voice is concerned and you are really sorry about that. You want to be strong, don't make him worry, but you're exploding.

No, you don't have to do this for me, you want to tell him, but you find yourself saying, "Yes, please, Joel, I feel like everything is falling apart and the only good thing I have is you," you confess to him.

You hear him sigh heavily, "Please don't say that. Listen to my voice, okay, honey?"

"Yes."

"Breathe deeply with me. Inhale and exhale, inhale and exhale." he tells you, you swallow slowly feeling your heartbeat slow down to its normal beat "Now go to the bathroom and rinse your face, I'll stay with ya." he says trying to calm you down.

You do as he told you by feeling guilty for having this breakdown with Joel. Not because it's him, but because for him you would wanted to be different, a grown-up and instead you proved yourself immature and foolish once again.

"What's up, baby?" he asks you after a few minutes of total silence from both of you "I'm sorry ya have to go through this alone." he continues "Why don't ya vent to those friends of yours, maybe they can give ya some advices." he adds.

"That's better now, Joel. You don't have to. I already know what they'd say to me." you say, opening the window facing the street a bit "They'd say stop letting your mother demean you and leave Jack."

"If they make ya feel that way…" he comments "Forgive me, I know your mother is important to ya however I think there have to be limits. She can't make ya feel that way, not at the age of 30! About that other guy… well, I don't know what ya see in him…" he sighs heavily "No, forget 'bout it, I didn't say anything. I'm just sorry you're feeling so sorry for someone who doesn't deserve your torment." he adds.

"I wish you were here now," you tell him deglutinating feeling suddenly pathetic.

"Forty-eight hours and I'll be there, promise." he replies.

"Joel, if it's a problem for you though, I don't want to be a burden or put you in trouble!" you exclaim, your tone of voice slowly becoming less shaky and calmer.

"Babe," he interrupts you, "don't say that. For me to see ya is just a joy. I wish I could be there with ya and hold ya close to me." his deep tone of voice conveys confidence, tranquility.

"Joel, I…" you breathe heavily "sorry, maybe I shouldn't have thrown my fears, my anguish at you, but you are the only one who listens to me, who really cares for me, who doesn't judge me and indeed sometimes even speaks against his best interest." you say going to your room and throwing yourself on the bed, you sigh "I just wish I could be worthy of you. To be strong and…"

"Worthy of me? Hey, hey, babe, ya don't have to think about these things at all. I told ya once before, you only hurt yourself." you hear him sigh "I thought about ya today." he adds "A lot. My mind was somewhere else."

You smile with your eyes closed. "And what were you thinking 'bout me?"

"I was thinking about your eyes, your incredible sweetness despite the fact that life has been so hard on you. I admire ya." you hear him smile, or so it seems from his tone of voice.

"Really?" hearing Joel's opinion of you makes you feel special and it's the first time in the span of a day when someone's words make you feel good.

"Yes. God, how I wish I could be with ya there in that bed and hold you to my chest! That'd be two of us being peaceful." he confesses to you in a slightly cracked tone of voice.

"Why? What's going on?" you ask him wrinkling your forehead and sitting in the middle of the bed.

"Nothing." he only replies, but his tone of voice is no nothing. You know him a little by now, though he stubbornly keeps everything to himself. It's like he has put up a wall so thick between him and the world that talking about it seems impossible for him. You wish you could figure out what it is, whether there is a way to break it down, whether it has something to do with his daughter or his wife or both!

"Joel, please talk to me," you beg him, you hate not being able to help those who help you, you hate not knowing how. Joel has always been there for you, held you, reassured you, helped you come out of that subservient state you were living in, is helping you understand who you are. You'd like to do the same for him.

"Babe, don't distress yourself, just bad thoughts," he tells you.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" you invite him.

"No." he replies dryly, "Sorry. Just used to keeping it all inside. 'S not because of ya, honey." he adds "I trust ya, but I can't talk about it."

You nod, unable, however, to help but feel disappointed at this persistent closure on his part. On the one hand, however, you tell yourself that he probably just needs time. You wonder again how much he has had to suffer for being so secretive, you wonder how terrible his experience has been.

"Please don't be hurt," he adds, not hearing your response.

"Yes, yes, of course. Don't worry." you say quickly, maybe too much, who knows maybe he sensed that everything is not all right as you just told him, but you can't help it.

"Will I see ya in two days?" he asks you in an uncertain tone, as if his lack of openness to you will prejudice your next meeting.

"Sure." you answer him, "I look forward to seeing you." you add, reassuring him immediately.

The next evening at dinner, your mother peers at you for a long time, you look at her, but say nothing. You eat in silence.

When you clear the table and wash the dishes, your mother finally speaks. "Mrs. Bixby stopped me this morning to give me my mail and she also told me something interesting," your mother begins, using a strange tone.

You look at her, "Such as?"

"She told me she saw you in an SUV with some…strange guy."

You swallow, but without showing your face.

Mrs. Bixby is the usual busybody who as soon as she notices something different or peculiar she has to immediately report it. In fact, she must unfortunately have seen you with Joel and immediately told your mother about it.

"What kind?" you ask, playing dumb.

"A man, an adult. Definitely older than you." she is silent for a moment "You have nothing to tell me? You know, I don't want you getting into strangers' cars or hanging out with guys that much older than you."

You shrug your shoulders, "Mom, I'm not dating anyone, don't worry."

Lie, but what choice do you have?

Since your mother started listening to that man's words during her prayer groups, she left that man with whom she was having an affair, she goes to confession every day and demands you do the same. You discussed this point at length as well, but your mother became rigid on this position and won't listen to reason. Sometimes you accommodate her, but other times you respond with categorical no's that lead to more arguments between you.

"Then why did Mrs. Bixby tell me you two seemed very close?" your mother insists.

Your stomach contracts in a painful grip, "Don't know," you only reply.

"Missy, look me in the eye," your mother says in a firm tone.

You turn around and she stands there in the doorway with her hands on her hips, her icy gaze fixed on you. When she does that, it scares you.

"Tell me the truth," she insists again.

"I see no one," you reply.

"I don't believe you, child," she says in an icy tone.

You shrug your shoulders, "I can't help with," you dare to say.

"Who was the man you hugged in front of our front door?" she asks you. Shit, but she wasn't there, but how…?

Your expression must have changed because your mother's expression changes as well, she reaches over and grabs you by your wrist with such violence that you are surprised and let a plate slip from your hands that crashes at your feet, she yanks you with a force you didn't even think she had and starts insulting you and giving you epithets you didn't even think she knew or had ever dared to address to you, she drags you to your room and then locks you in.

"MOM?! MOM?! MOM OPEN!" you scream, clapping your palms against the door, your mother no longer responding. You stand there, your face pressed against the door and your eyes filled with tears.

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kitashousewife · 2 years

Text

staying in

an: yahoo! it's my first piece for my cuffing szn event! im currently under three blankets AND it snowed today so i felt inspired to write

pairings: husband!nanami x fem!reader

warnings: stress mention, food/eating mention, alcohol mention, nanami is a really good husband, pet names (love, darling, sweetheart) fluff, lowercase intentional

every friday night, nanami takes you out on a date. some nights are small; dinner, dessert, and home right after. some are bigger; cooking classes, pottery classes, plays, dinner parties, or even catching a drink at one of the fancier bars. since it's friday once again, he spends the last hour of work deciding where to take you.

he doesn't want to give in, but a large part of him doesn't want to go out at all.

today has been freezing. the wind's been blowing non-stop, and it even tried to snow during lunch. of course, the students loved the few flakes that fell, but nanami was not as excited. snow meant dangerous roads, traffic, power outages, and that deep chill that sets into your bones.

to distract from the low temperatures, nanami scrolls on his computer, looking up different restaurants, shows, and events going on. the two of you have been busy for a while; the last two weeks of dates were spent with take out and heading to bed early. he doesn't want the same thing to happen this week.

as soon as the clock hits five, nanami walks out of jujutsu high as fast as he can. he has it all figured out; he will take you to the new restaurant that just opened up, then afterwards stop at the bar on the way home for some cocktails, and before the night is over; stop for whatever dessert you'd like.

but, with every passing minute driving home, nanami is fighting the urge to throw all of those plans out the window. it's beginning to snow again; the closer he gets to your shared home, the more the flakes begin to stick. by the time he pulls into the driveway, the roof has a light dusting of snow stuck to it.

the scowl on his face grows with each footprint he leaves behind, the crunch of his shoe against the snow tempts him to stay in. but, he won't give in that easily.

"i'm home," he announces, voice dripping with irritation as he shakes off his coat. he puts it away, along with his shoes, before walking into the kitchen. his sour mood sweetens almost immediately when he sees you, pouring yourself a cup of tea.

"hey ken, how was your day? are you loving the snow?" you grin, the last part thick with sarcasm. he rolls his eyes and you snort.

"no, not particularly. the kids enjoyed it, though," he mumbles, loosening the tie from his neck. "it's friday night."

you blink at him from the rim of your mug. 'it is indeed. what are your thoughts?"

he walks over to you, wraps his arms around you and dips you, earning him a laugh and a smile as the two of you dance.

"well, i was thinking about that new restaurant that opened last week, maybe some drinks, some dessert," he lists, dipping you further and further with each word until you're squealing. he pulls you up once more, brushing the hair out of your face. "what do you think?"

you smile and nod, but he can tell you aren't too thrilled.

"what? did you have something else in mind?"

you wince. "don't hate me, but i kinda want to stay-"

"in? me too," he sighs. "but i haven't taken you out in weeks, love."

"ken, i don't mind. let's stay in, yeah? besides," you glance out the kitchen window and smile. "everything is covered in snow." nanami groans, and doesn't need any convincing after that.

"i'm going to change, then. i'll be right back," he shuffles towards your bedroom. you can't help but smile. this week was shit, it's freezing and you would much prefer staying in than having to get dressed up. nanami works so hard, and you could tell this week was wearing on him too. you knew he was tired and wanted to rest, especially after he had a surprise mission to attend to earlier in the week.

"so," nanami's voice cuts off your thoughts. you turn to see him in what you would say is his best look: sweatpants, sweatshirt, and his round "at home" glasses, as he likes to call them. you love when he looks like this because you know that it means he is ready to spend the evening at home, with you.

"so," you mimic. he smiles.

"what would you like for dinner? we could order take out, but i don't want to make anyone drive in this weather more than they need to."

you hum and walk towards your pantry while nanami looks through the fridge. "we have pasta? but we don't have any sauce,"

"we have a bottle of wine in here, do you remember where it's from?"

you peek your head out of the pantry. "wine for dinner?" he rolls his eyes.

"okay, so no wine for you," you stick your tongue out at him and return to your search.

"it was from gojo, by the way," a small ahh comes from behind the refrigerator doors. "finding anything good, ken?"

"well we do have the ingredients for sauce. i can make it, if you would like."

"i would love that. you are the best cook in the relationship."

nanami chuckles as he grabs ingredients for the sauce, placing a kiss on your lips after he has what he needs. you watch as he goes around the kitchen, grabbing the tools needed for the job.

"darling, would you mind turning on some music? maybe even the fireplace?"

"not at all. any requests?"

he lights the the stove and turns to look at you over his shoulder.

"surprise me."

you feel very special, because your sweet husband just so happens to be very particular about his music. the vintage record player that sits in the living room is rarely touched by you, save for a few special moments like this. the vinyl sits in their cases, organized by genre of course, making it easy. you drop the needle in the groove of a slow jazz record, and nanami nods from his place in front of the stove. before joining him you flick on the fireplace and then walk back to his side.

"i have another job for you," he says, focused as he measures out another ingredient. you sigh at the smell, the sauce already looking better than anything you would've ordered tonight. "what's that?"

he stop stirring momentarily to pick you up and set you on the counter next to him. "well i need a taste tester, of course."

it's your turn to place a kiss on his lips, this one lingering for a bit longer than the last. he's made this sauce a hundred times, so you know he's just using this as an excuse to have you close by.

your hungry stomach is grateful that nanami works so fast, finishing up dinner quickly and plating it for you two at the table. he pulls your chair out for you, even pushing you in before grabbing the wine out of the fridge. before he sits down he pours your glass, then his own.

"thank you, ken. this is better than anything we could have eaten tonight."

he kisses your head before taking a seat. "we'll see about that. you haven't even tasted it yet."

the next few hours is full of laughter, mostly from you, as the two of you swap stories from the week. nanami's tales of the students have your stomach hurting just a touch, wishing you had seen things for yourself. after dinner the two of you clean up together before sitting down on the couch, enjoying the warmth of the fireplace.

"what would you like to do tonight, sweetheart?"

you nuzzle into his chest, curled up in a blanket at his side. "whatever you want to do."

he chuckles. "unfortunately i need to catch up on some new information the higher-ups sent out this week that i haven't looked at yet. you want to do that?"

"nope, i'm good," you tease. "i think i'll read while you do that. is that okay?"

he kisses your cheek before grabbing his computer. "i would love that."

you don't mean to, but the soft jazz that continues to play, mixed with the warmth of the fireplace lulls you into a light sleep. nanami realizes you've fallen asleep when he feels you lean into his side. his heart swells, looking at your beautiful face, peaceful and coated in a golden glow from the fire. he tries to be as quiet as possible while reading through, not wanting to disturb you after the week you've had.

"ken?"

"i'm sorry, love. did i wake you?"

"no," you voice is groggy. nanami finds it adorable. he shuts his laptop and pulls you close, smiling to himself at your sleepy sigh.

"ken?"

"yes?"

"i want something sweet,"

he fully laughs at that, shaking his head. you can't hide the smile playing at your lips either.

"are you really my wife if you don't want something sweet, shortly after eating?"

you sit up and gasp dramatically. "shortly? it's been," you glance at the clock. "two hours after we ate dinner! come on ken, i know you wouldn't say no to cookies."

"you're absolutely right, i wouldn't," he agrees.

"well," you say, standing up with a stretch. "i can make some cookies for us. it's only fair. maybe i'll make some for our neighbor while i'm at it," you slowly shuffle into the kitchen, grabbing ingredients of your own and turning the oven on.

while you work, nanami leans back on the couch and begins to drift into a sleep of his own.

"ken, come here!" he groans in question, and you laugh.

"i need a taste tester, don't i?"

"oh, obviously," he sits up immediately, coming right by your side with a happy grin on his face. you give him a kiss on the cheek before scooping him some dough. he eats it quickly, sighing the second it touches his tastebuds.

"i'm so glad we stayed in. best idea you've ever had," he says, words slurred lightly as he cleans off the spoon you gave him. you look out the window once more, eyes widening at the amount of snow that blankets everything outside. when you turn back and see your husband, sitting on top of the counter just like you were hours earlier, peace melts through your body.

you're glad the two of you decided to stay in, too.

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento fluff #nanami fluff #jjk fluff #jjk imagine #jjk scenario #nanami kento #nanami x you #kento nanami #jjk x you #jjk x reader #heidswinterevent

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notenuffbees · 7 months

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I have many responsibilities in my personal and professional life, so naturally I used my valuable time to create this rating of every single one of Dick Knubbler's outfits. I know next to nothing about fashion, so naturally I'm the most qualified person to make this list. Bold fashion choices and wrong opinions under the cut. Let me know what you think!

"Pre-Accident" Outfit. Appears in Dethwater. What an iconic look to start the series with. Songgu Kwon's concept art that's available online has Knubbler in a traditional suit, so I wonder when they made the switch to this style jacket. It's a shame he never wore this exact outfit ever again. Maybe it doesn't go with his robotic eyes? Do you think Dick had to get a whole new wardrobe after his eyes exploded since he stopped being blue eyed? And what do you think happened to his collection of different shaded glasses? 9/10

"Award Show " Outfit. Appears in Dethwater. It's a suit. Boring. And it's just the same color scheme as the first outfit? Extra points for the bowtie and the pocket square. I just realized while making this list that he's not wearing shades in this outfit. 6/10

"Prison" Outfit. Appears in Dethwater If there was any justice in the Metalocalypse universe, Knubbler would have spent the rest of the series in this outfit in a jail cell. Not much else to say about this one. I like the red-rimmed glasses. 3/10

"Disco" Outfit. Appears in Dethwater.

Hideous. The bell bottoms, the clashing colors, the star patterns, whatever the hell kind of dance moves he's trying to pull off. Absolutely iconic. I would rank this outfit higher if it didn't physically hurt my eyes to look at it. 6/10

"Magazine" Outfit. Appears in Dethwater.

It's the same as the "Pre-Accident" Outfit, just with a green turtleneck. For some reason I don't like this outfit nearly as much. Maybe because the green matches the eyes? But aren't you supposed to match colors in fashion? I don't know. Again, I'm probably the last person in the world that should be judging clothes.

5/10

"Court" Outfit. Appears in Dethkomedy. Interesting color choices. This is why Knubbler's outfits are so great. You've got a basic suit-and-tie that becomes a fashion win/disaster with the lilac coat, black shirt, and pink striped tie. The stripes on the tie make it a little too busy for me though. 7/10

"The Knubbler" Outfit. Appears in Dethkids, Dethrecord, Dethrelease/Black Fire Upon Us, Dethhealth, Doublebookedklok. Step away from your phone/computer for a second. Close your eyes. Take a few breaths. Then picture Dick Knubbler. What outfit is he wearing? I bet you pictured him in this. If you didn't, well then it's what Murderface pictured him wearing in his gay crisis fantasy. So yeah. There's a reason this outfit is the one they put him in over three seasons. Knubbler wore this style jacket before and since these episodes, but the plum really makes this version of the outfit shine. Absolutely perfect. No notes. 10/10

"Recording on Water" Outfit. Appears in Dethvengeance, the cancelled Metalocalypse video game. Again, I love how Knubbler spices up a classic suit and tie with wild color choices. My personal preference for warm colors has me wishing the colors were a bit bolder than forest green and purple. But I gotta give love to any outfit with a pocket square. 7/10

"White Dethmas" Outfit. Appears in Dethmas, Fertilityklok, and in issue 3 of the Dethklok comic book. This one's great. It takes a brave man to wear an all white outfit, and he pulls it off. My only issue is that it's kind of weird that he also wore it to Toki's birthday party which, according to the calendar in Fertilityklok, is late summer or early autumn. I assume they made this Dethmas outfit all white to go with the snow/winter/Christmas theme, but apparently Dick will just wear it whenever. 8/10

"Christmas Special Host" Outfit. Appears in Dethmas. Perfectly average. Just a tuxedo. The red bowtie/pocket square with the green vest is a nice Christmas-y touch. Loses points for being so boring otherwise. 6/10

"Nativity" Outfit. Appears in Dethmas. I don't know if I've ever been able to watch this clip all the way through without having to pause due to the secondhand embarrassment. Sometimes I think about how there exists a 30 second clip of this man screaming in agony as the blood vessels in his face swell and his eyeballs eventually explode, but this is the clip that makes me cringe myself inside out. I can barely look at this outfit long enough to rank it. The necklace is pretty cool though, even if I can't tell what the charm is supposed to be. It kind of looks like Facebones? Or the old DeviantArt mascot? I don't know. Let's just get the hell away from this picture. 2/10

"Dealing with a Murderface Tantrum" Outfit. Appears in Dethsiduals The first of two suit-without-a-tie outfits. The purple and black go well together, and the pocket square makes another excellent appearance, although it pairs with the dress shirt this time rather than the ascot. Heh. Ascot. That's a funny word. 7/10

"Season 4" Outfit. Appears in Writersklok, Goingdownklok, Breakupklok. I'm disappointed that he had so few outfits in season 4. That sours my opinion on this suit a little. But I love that there are three completely different colors with this outfit. Someone teach me how color coordination is done so I can understand why this outfit works.

And we've got another pocket square paired with the ascot! So I get to think about the word "ascot" again! 8/10

"Flawless Disguise" Outfit. Appears in Writersklok. I love the running joke of a tracksuit and a baseball cap being the ultimate disguise in the Metalocalypse universe. Leave it to Knubbler to turn a tracksuit outfit into a capital L Look. I like that his baseball cap has a blue star on it like the pink shirt from the "Disco" Outfit, and that the suit itself is lavender like the "Court" Outfit. 8/10

"Clergy" Outfit. Appears in Army of the Doomstar Another boring outfit compared to what he wears for most of the series. I wonder why they picked green for the color. Because that was the color of his robot pupils for most of the series? Because it's the same color as the nuclear seahorse from Dethwater? Because it makes him look more like Yoda? I'll give bonus points to this outfit since he was probably free-balling under that thing. Or should I take away points for that? Honestly my least favorite part of these robes is that Dick didn't get to die in a zazzier outfit. Hopefully in the Metalocalypse universe, ghosts can pick what outfit they wear when they haunt the shit out of the band. 6/10 And that's that! Please tell me how wrong my ratings are and where you would rate them instead. I need fashion lessons!

#metalocalypse #dick knubbler #army of the doomstar #long post #army of the doomstar spoilers #aotd spoilers

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spacequokka · 5 months

Text

Kookies | Day 20

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Genre: Roommate AU, Fluff Rating: PG Summary: Your roomie needs help in the kitchen. Word Count: 0.7k Warnings: Language.

Gray, cloudy skies loomed over the city, heavy with the promise of snow. Festive lights twinkled on every corner, but the threat of a winter storm brought a sense of unease to the bustling streets. Amidst the revelry and holiday cheer, you'd been focused on finishing up an article for a client. Just as you'd submitted it for review, a knock on the door drew your attention from your computer. "Yeah?"

Your notoriously mischievous roommate, Jungkook, poked his head in. "Hey. Um, how busy are you on a scale of one to 'please help me?'"

You turned in your chair toward him. "What have you done now?"

He pursed his lips like he wanted to defend himself but thought better of it, settling for "It's not what I've done, but what I need to do."

Now he had your attention. "O-kay. What do you 'need' to do?"

With a straight face, he said, "Bake twelve dozens of frosted sugar cookies."

You waited for him to crack a smile, laugh and say "sike", but he didn't. When it was clear he was waiting on your response, you nearly choked. "I beg your damn pardon?"

He pushed the door open. "Okay, so Jimin said I can't cook to save my life. I wasn't gonna let him talk shit so," he took a deep breath, "I bet that I could and he put me in charge of bringing cookies to his Christmas party tomorrow."

You blinked a few times. "The only thing I've ever seen you cook without burning it is ramen."

"That's something I like to eat!" He threw his hands up. He'd clearly heard that retort already. "But that's not the point. I can bake the cookies, but I need help decorating and packaging them good enough to make the trip." He gave you his best puppy eyes. "Please help me. I know I can't mess it up if you're by my side."

"Why do I feel like the Shego to your Dr. Drakken?"

"You know what--I'll take that. Just say you'll help me, please? I'll do anything you want for a day."

"Just a day? That's over a hundred cookies--"

"Okay, a week! A whole seven days of whatever you want."

"Hm." You pretended to think about it. He dropped to his knees and put his hands together, poking his bottom lip out. "Meh, okay. I'm in."

"Oh, thank fuck." He stood up and grabbed your wrist, pulling you out the chair. "I got the premixed stuff because the YouTube short I found called for too much shit." His words ran together worse than in your room as he led the way to the kitchen. Everything you needed was laid out on the kitchen table. "The first batch is cooling here and the second batch is in the oven. You can start bagging the icing and I'll start on batch three."

"Holy shit." You picked up a piping bag. "You're actually on top of this." You grabbed a spoon and scooped vanilla into the bag. "Do I get music to work to, boss?"

He preened at the compliment and nodded with a grin. "Of course!" He dug his phone out of his pocket. A few swipes later, "Jingle Bell Rock" started to play. "Good?"

"Yessir." You nodded as you swung your hips to the song and added red food coloring to the icing. "Any particular request for the decorations?"

"Nope. Go wild or be as basic as you want. I just want them done so I can shove them in his stupid face."

"Aye aye." You saluted him. You both fell into a production line with him baking and you decorating the cookies.

Jungkook watched in amazement as you effortlessly piped intricate designs onto each cookie. "You're really good at this," he commented as he attempted to decorate a snowflake with blue frosting.

"It just takes practice," you replied with a smile. Once all the cookies were cooled and frosted, you packaged them in festive boxes for tomorrow's event. As you finished up, Jungkook thanked you profusely for your help.

"It was actually kind of fun," you admitted with a grin. "Much better than dealing with bananas."

"Yeah? Maybe next time we can bake something more challenging together," Jungkook suggested with a mischievous glint in his eye.

You laughed and shook your head. "We'll see."

But deep down, you knew that spending time together like this was becoming one of your favorite things about living with Jungkook. And as the snow began to fall outside, creating a winter wonderland scene, you couldn't help but feel grateful for having such a chaotic yet fun roommate.

#kvanity #kchristmas #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios

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silvakristiina · 22 days

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Questioning my life choices here 🙈 Why did I ever try to fix my game in the first place? I should have known it'll never work any better 😔 I've been tweaking my worlds lots without Seasons and rebuilt one of the two lots that went missing. I just never found their back up nor previous uploads anywhere. Luckily they were the smallest ones of the lots. My EiG finally works (woop woop! 🥳), but I don't do much with it, as I can't install any worlds for an unknown reason. The game crashed when I checked the dive lot (Oooh the world has a dive lot...), so I went to decorate the island hotel. Turns out Ctrl+Shift now crashes the game, so I can't set up custom hotel rooms. Maybe I just reverse the lot to a regular community lot 🤷🏼‍♀️

Oh, it's been snowing a few days and the temperature is below zero, so the Spring is yet again cancelled 🥶 The greenhouse is covered in snow and I have my 21 dahlias and 40 ranunculus indoors. We all can't wait to get out and the Spring to come!

I'm being too lazy and spending my days on the computer, which gets a bit boring when I get so little done because nothing really works and everything is a fight, and my sugars are too high 😬

I really should go out, but nothing fits me anymore. I look like a huge sausage in my new (big), long winter coat even with the pockets open 😂

Stir crazy, not drunk.

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kywaslost · 1 year

Note

Hawks has me soft for him after all he went through. I was wondering how it would go his first time tasting/eating home made food.

You Made This, For Me? - Hawks

A/N: I love this idea! I hope you don’t mind that I made the relationship between Hawks and Reader platonic. I feel like I write him better this way.

You had just begun working with Hawks not too long ago at his agency. You were a student at UA, working with him and Tokoyami during your work studies. The three of you got along really well and enjoyed spending time together. Hawks would often take the two of you out for dinner during your off time on patrol.

But tonight, plans changed. A huge snowstorm began halfway through your patrol with Tokoyami and Hawks, the winds and snow so cold that it forced the three of you to return back to the agency. The number 2 pro hero could do many things, but flying through an aggressive snow storm was not one of them.

By the time the three of you made it back to the agency, the roads were too bad for you and Tokoyami to be picked up and taken home, and it was way too cold for you to fly home. SO you resorted to staying overnight at Hawks’ agency. There were certain rooms throughout the agency dedicated to interns and heroes who were too tired to go home to sleep, filled with beds, pillows, and blankets. Hawks set you and Tokoyami up in one room, making sure the two of you were comfortable.

Once Hawks had shown the two of you around he had to return to his office to finish up some hero work, leaving you and Tokoyami alone in the small lounging room on Hawks’ floor of the agency, It wasn’t anything much, a small kitchenette, a sofa, a few lounge chairs, and a tv. You peeked through the cabinets in the small kitchen, searching for something to make. Due to the snowstorm, dinner plans were canceled and you hadn’t eaten since lunch.

“Hey Tokoyami,” you called over your shoulder to the boy sitting on the sofa. “There’s enough ingredients in here for me to make (favorite home-made dish), would you eat some if I made it?”

“Of course,” he answered, looking up from his homework that he’d brought with him. “Would you like any help?”

You turned to him and smiled, shaking your head. “No thank you. I’ve got it.”

It took a while, you finally finished your home-made dish. You dished out servings onto three different plates, carrying one over to Tokoyami. “Here.” You held out the plate to the boy, watching as he took it with a smile.

“Thank you,” he said. “It smells amazing.”

You blushed slightly at the compliment. “I hope it tastes alright. I’m going to go give Hawks some, too.”

When you arrived at the hero’s office you knocked on the door, awaiting a reply. The door opened on its own, revealing Hawks’ cheerful gaze behind his computer monitor. “Hey birdie, what’d you need?” You watched as one of his feathers flew out from behind the door and back to him.

“We missed dinner, so I made (home-made dish),” you responded, stepping into his office and over to Keigo’s desk. “I thought maybe you’d like to try it?”

“Aw, you didn’t have to do that!” Keigo laughed lightheartedly. “It smells amazing!”

“Thank you!” you handed him his plate and stepped back. “My grandmother gave me the recipe before she passed.” You watched as Hawks took a bite of your dish, awaiting his response. “How is it?” You could have sworn Hawks’ eyes filled with tears. “Oh. God, it’s terrible isn’t it?”

He sniffed, sat his plate down, then wiped at his eyes. “No, no, dove. It’s amazing.” He chuckled softly. “I love it.”

“Than why are you crying?” you asked wearily. “People only do that when the food is terrible and they’re lying.”

“No, no,” Hawks laughed, standing. He spread his arms and wrapped you in a big hug, causing you to giggle. “We both know how I became a hero, yeah?”

“Of course,” you responded. “You told us that one night we were out super late.”

“Yeah, I did.” Hawks sighed and pulled away from you a bit. “So then we both know I never really had anyone to cook for me.” He patted your head. “I haven’t had a home-made meal in a very long time. That’s why I’m crying, dove. I’m happy.”

“Oh,” you huffed. “You should have told me!!! I’d have made you something sooner!” You smacked him lightly. “SO it doesn’t taste bad?”

Hawks sat back down in his seat and took another bite from his plate. “It’s wonderful, dove. Thank you.”

#comfort #bnha #bnha comfort #x reader #platonic #hawks #keigo takami #bnha fluff #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #bnha keigo #keigo takami x reader #keigo imagine #keigo #hawks bnha #pro hero hawks #boku no hero academia hawks #hawks imagines #hawks x reader comfort

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bullet-clubs-bitch · 3 months

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can you please write an Christian Cage X Fem Reader Story, (age gap couple 22 years apart)

Reader is fighting insomnia and he recognized that her bed side is empty and when he's looking for her, he finds her on the living room windows sill watching the rain and he asks what's wrong and she tells him she's fighting insomnia from time to time and she didn't wanted to bother him, he guides her back to bed let her know that he is there for her every sleepless night and tug her under the blanket and let her lay on his chest and make sure that she feels comfortable and she hugs him tightly listening to his heart beat and she's slowly drifting of to sleep while he holds her tight in his arms, after she thanks him for always being there for her

Insomniac

Christian Cage X FemReader

Christian Cage Masterlist Main Masterlist

One thing I hated about the spring was the weird in between weather we got. It was too warm to snow and not cold enough for the rain droplets to form into ice. The past week had been nothing but rain, all day everyday it rained. I was never one for the rain, it was cold, it was wet and it was miserable. Y/n loved the rain, she loved the way it felt on her skin, the way it smelt, the way it sounded as it hit the roof she adored it. So it made me happy when I saw how happy Y/n was with the rain.

Sometimes I worried about her, she was one of those people that were always so happy and kind to others but you knew deep down inside something was wrong. I knew she had depression and anxiety, I knew she had sleep problems but she always hid it from the rest of the world. I was one of the few fortunate people to know of this. I remember when I met her for the first time when I joined AEW, she was a writer for the show. I remember thinking she was a bit young for such a professional job but she was quick to show that her age didn’t define her skills. The ideas she came up with, the creativity she had was truly amazing. Maybe that’s why I fell in love with her.

I knew it would be scandalous, people would talk. How would you feel knowing that the two of us shared a 22 year age gap as she was 28 and I was 50. I knew how wrong it was, I knew I was too old for her but she was unlike anyone I had ever met before. We didn’t need to have a romantic relationship per say but I needed to get to know her, I had to know every detail about her. Somewhere along the line we fell in love and here we are, together in our shared home enjoying the rain on a miserable Tuesday night.

I could tell something was up from the moment Y/n and I returned from last week's episode of Dynamite. I offered for the two of us to go on a mini vacation since there was no Collision this week but Y/n claimed she had to get work done for Revolution. That was fine, I knew she had a lot of work but sometimes I worried that she was doing too much. Y/n had all her paperwork spread out on our large dining room table as she sat working on her computer and sorting paperwork all day. She would have the fireplace on for warmth and had the calming rain in the background as she worked nonstop. It got to the point where she was up before I was and went to bed after me. Some nights I don’t even think she went to bed. Tonight was no different, as I twisted and turned in my sleep I rolled over and felt the familiar empty cold spot next to me. I checked the time and it was around 3am, how is she still up? As I slowly crept down the stairs I assumed Y/n would be in the kitchen still working but when I checked she wasn’t there. I searched the house and was starting to get scared when I couldn't find her.

Just then I noticed a pile of blankets sitting on the window sill. “What’s wrong honey?” I asked Y/n gently as I carefully sat next to her. “I can’t sleep” “Why don’t you come up to bed and just lie down” “I can’t” “Why not honey? What’s the matter?” I knew not to push too hard in this situation but In order for me to help her I needed more details. I noticed the open computer and knew that this was due to all the stress she was under. “How can I help? Tell me what I can do to help you. I need to know what’s wrong in order to help you!” “I just can’t” “Can’t what honey?” “I can’t do this. I’m so tired but I can’t sleep, I have so much work and everytime I finish one thing five more new things show up” Y/n was now facing me and I could tell how tired she really was. Poor thing looked exhausted and I knew with Revolution being two weeks away this would only get worse.

“Do you want me to talk to TK-” “NO!, no ...sorry, I shouldn't have said anything Christian. I’m sorry I woke you up. It’s nothing really…I…” “Don’t ever apologize alright. That’s what I’m here for Y/n. I don’t care if you wake me up at 1am or 3am, I will be there for you during every sleepless night alright. I love you so much, I can’t even explain it. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I promise you I will be there for you for every second of it okay?” I noticed a few tears fall from Y/n’s face and I was quick to wipe them away. “You alright?” I asked her “I’m just so tired” I hated seeing Y/n like this but unfortunately this is part of the job. “I know baby, I know. Let’s go to bed” “Can you carry me?” How could I say no to that? I carefully carried Y/n upstairs before tucking her securely under the sheets. I held her close as I waited for her to fall asleep before even attempting to fall asleep myself. “Thank you Christian” “Anytime my love, now get some rest. We have a flight tomorrow”

#bullet clubs bitch #all elite wrestling #aew smut #aew #aew fanfiction #christian cage x reader #christian wwe #christian cage #christian cage imagine #christian cage gif #christian cage smut #christian cage fanfic #christian cage x you #christian cage aew #christian cage is so hot #christian cage oneshot #christian cage x femreader

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riahlynn101 · 6 months

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Just wanted to say how much i appreciate your art and works. You write really, really well, and I’m no expert on that, but yes I can surely say this even as an amateur. You’re able to characterize the ones you write just in point, it’s as if you know them in real life, as if they were your friends or something. Please, keep doing what you do, I’m pretty sure there are a plenty of other people that enjoy your writing as much as I do. It’s so rewarding when I go to bed after a hard day and have one of your one-shots to read, it’s like I’m in another reality. Sorry if that sounds weird, I’m afraid I might sound a little crazy but I really like to encourage people, especially when it’s art related. Your art does touch people! And forgive me for any grammar mistakes, as English isn’t my first language

By the way, if that’s possible and if you would want to, would you ever do an schmelly one-shot about an “only one bed” prompt? It’s my favorite, I’d really like to see how they’d act. I know you don’t write smut, and I don’t want it either, so as long as you’re comfortable writing it, I’d really appreciate it 🥹

(AWWW <33 THANK YOU :D!! I really do appreciate that. I know I say it in a lot of my author’s notes, but I am really, truly grateful for all your guys’ support!!)

Sometimes I worry that my writing is trash. The plot makes no sense, or there are too many grammar mistakes, or the characters are…well….not in character. So, hearing that you like my writing makes me super happy :))

And it’s super kind of you to support/lift up artists and writers. There are too many people in this world that like to tear others down, so kudos to you for continuing to be kind and supportive <33

(And just as a little extra note: I think your English might be better than mine, and I say that as a native English-speaker. I mean that positively :D!! And I 100% guarantee that you write/speak English better than I could write/speak in your language, so take pride in that :))!!)

As for your request……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Word count: 1,417

Trigger warnings: implied/referenced kidnapping, implied childhood trauma - but both of those things aren't the focal point of the story.

Summary: What do you get when you add a snowstorm, a (nearly) booked out hotel, and Mike and Vanessa needing a room?

Answer - a hotel room with only one bed!

Snow as far as the eye can see. It comes down in clusters and catches on the wind, blanketing the ground in white. This isn’t abnormal for this time of year, and usually Mike and his sister waited for the first snowstorm with great anticipation. Her because it means Christmas is right around the corner. And Mike because it reminds him of Christmas’ past.

This year, however, he’s stuck driving in it. A last-minute trip a few hours away and a surprise blizzard don’t really mix. Maybe if he would have checked the weather channel one more time this could have been avoided.

“We should stop for tonight,” Vanessa says, always the voice of reason (for the most part). “I think I saw a sign for a hotel just up the road.”

Mike squints his eyes, leaning forward. He’s going ten under the speed limit, and that’s the only reason his pile-of-junk car hasn’t slid into the ditch. “Okay, I think I see it.”

Somehow, they make it in one piece into the motel’s tiny parking lot. It’s crowded, and it takes him a solid five minutes to find a spot. Apparently they aren’t the first people to need a room for the night.

“Do you think they have any rooms available?” Mike asks, gripping the steering wheel. The thought of bearing the cold is already making him chilly.

Always optimistic, Vanessa smiles. “I’m positive they can squeeze us in somewhere.”

-x-x-x-

“You two are in luck,” the receptionist-the stereotypical midwestern soccer mom-says, looking at her computer screen, “we have one room left.”

Both of them sigh in relief. The idea of trekking back out into the cold was daunting, and the idea of finding a different hotel is downright scary.

“We’ll take it,” Vanessa pipes up.

“Okey-dokey then. I just need you to sign here and date there.”

As Vanessa signs the logbook, the receptionist passes over a key for the room. “Are you two married?” She asks, conversationally. Though, Mike knows growing up around these types, that she’s just being nosy.

Vanessa shakes her head. “Oh, uh…no. Just friends.”

The woman laughs. “That’s what they all say.”

Face turning red, Vanessa scurries away from the desk, keys clutched in her hand. Mike follows behind her, not trusting himself to not glare at the woman.

They step into the elevator. “You okay?” He asks.

Vanessa’s face is still red, but she seems otherwise calm. But he wouldn’t be a good friend if he didn’t at least try. She clears her throat, shrugging her shoulders.

“I’m fine.”

The elevator doors open.

“So, what’s our room number?”

Vanessa holds the key up. “Uh….says 204. And judging by the positioning of the light, the direction of the wind, and my knowledge of the polar vortex it’s down the hallway to the right.”

He stands there, dumbstruck. “Wow, you actually know our room number from all that?”

She stares at him for a solid minute, not saying anything. “Yep. I definitely didn’t listen to the lady downstairs, and didn’t read the sign right in front of our faces.”

Mike turns slightly, and sure enough there’s a sign directing people to their rooms on the wall. 200-220 to the right and 221-241 to the left.

“Huh,” he says. “Well, I never said I had good reading comprehension skills.”

Vanessa smiles at that, but quickly turns away. “C’mon, I’m really tired.”

Thankfully, the rest of the trip to their room is uneventful. The hotel is eerily quiet, which is weird given that it’s full tonight. But with their luck, the minute they try to get some sleep, everyone and their mother will be causing a ruckus.

“This is it,” Vanessa says, indicating to a number plate on one of the doors.

Mike sighs. “Thank god. It’s been a long day.”

The room is pleasantly warm and smells of mothballs. It’s kind of small, not that they were expecting much. A bathroom that lacks a shower or bath, a closet that’s full of cleaning supplies, and a TV stand that lacks an actual television.

But the thing that gives them pause is none of those things. Instead, it’s the bed in the center of the room. The single bed.

Single as in only one.

They stand there in complete silence. Standing and staring. And then, staring some more.

“Well…” Mike starts, “I can…take the floor.”

Vanessa shakes her head. “No, the floor’s probably filthy. I’ll take the chair over there, and you take the bed.”

He scoffs. “I’m sure I’ve slept in worse places. Besides, you paid for this room. So, you get to sleep in the bed.”

“But….you drove us all the way to Utah and back, so really I owe you.”

They face each other.

“But the reason we went to Utah was for me, so really I owe you.” Mike hates the idea of sleeping in the chair or the floor for that matter, his back has enough problems without adding to them. But he also has the advantage of being imbued with an unholy amount of stubbornness.

Unfortunately, his opponent is Vanessa.

“Well, I’m not sleeping in the bed,” she says, throwing her hands up. “So, if you don’t, then I guess it’ll just go to waste.”

“I guess so,” he shoots back.

Vanessa rounds the bed, presumably to go sleep in the chair. (Another thing that there’s only one of.)

“What if…” he pauses, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the idea. Vanessa looks at him. “What if we shared the bed?”

“Share the bed?”

“Like I sleep on this side.” He points to the side closest to him. “And you sleep on that side?”

“Would you be okay with that?” Vanessa asks.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, waving off her concern. “I’m more worried about you.”

“I’m fine. It’s not a bad idea, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Mike shrugs. “I mean as long as you’re okay with it, I’ll be fine.” And he would be. A lot of his discomfort comes from sleeping somewhere unfamiliar. Sure, he’s slept in a lot of different places, but never this far from home. After Garrett was taken, he grew to fear being away from his parents (and later Abby) for long periods of time.

“Okay,” she says, slipping off her shoes and climbing under the covers. She looks up at Mike expectantly. “Well?”

He takes a deep breath. “I have to call the house. The babysitter is probably expecting me back soon, and Abby will be upset if I don’t say goodnight.”

She nods, snuggling deeper into the covers.

-x-x-x-

Mike slinks back into the room. Thankfully, both the babysitter and Abby understood his predicament. Abby told him goodnight - which was sweet. And then, she started teasing Mike about his apparent “crush” (like he’s in middle school or something), to which he hung up.

He loves his little sister, but sometimes she drives him up a wall.

He slips into the bed, curling up. The blankets are scratchy and the pillows are lumpy, but Mike would be lying if he said he wasn’t half-asleep by the time his head hit the bed.

Next to him, Vanessa giggles.

“What?” He mutters, eyelids drooping.

“Nothing. Goodnight, Mike.”

“Yeah….goodnight to….” Before he can finish his thought, Mike is fast asleep. And not long after, Vanessa follows suit.

For the first time in a long time, their dreams are pleasant.

-x-x-x-

Mike is used to waking up with someone hanging off him. It’s a natural part of being a big brother. First with Garrett-who he shared a room with-and then with Abby, who always preferred his company, even before mom died and dad left.

What he’s not used to is the other person being taller than him, and having their chin rest on his head.

He panics, jerking backwards. Sadly, the bed's not big enough for the amount of panicking his sleep-addled brain is doing, and Mike very nearly tumbles to the floor. At the last possible second, a pair of arms save him, pulling him back.

Vanessa looks at him. He turns on his side, staring at her.

Without another word, they go right back to snuggling. Sure, it might be awkward in the morning, but that would be the future-them’s problem.

They fall asleep, curled up right next to each other. If their fingers wind up intertwined, or they end up snuggling in their sleep, well then, that’s no one else’s business but theirs.

#mike x vanessa #schmelly #fnaf au #fnaf fanfic #request fulfilled #requests open #Thank you so much for your patience <3 #cross posted on ao3 #mike schmidt #vanessa shelly #one bed trope #fnaf fic

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helyiios · 7 months

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Imagine Ethan seeing the rope burns and bruising on Benji's neck soon-ish after Kashmir and assuming that Benji had attempted to kill himself.

What he likes the most of about Kashmir is the weather. It's cold, yes, but it's also always bright and sunny, and the blue of the sky helps making his recovery less boring. When his ribs allow him to walk around the medical ward he does so, and he likes to take in the view. The mountains were nicer to see when he wasn't strapped to a helicopter and dangling off the edge of a cliff.

It's not all wonderful, though. Mostly, he's worried about Benji, whom he doesn't see much. Which is odd, because he's their technician, which means he should be debriefing with them almost all the time, but, well. He isn't. And that worries him. A lot.

Which was leading him to that particular moment, standing right outside his friend's small house in the snow, barely knocking. Maybe he was sleeping ? Maybe he should come back. Maybe he was imagining things, and it wasn't that bad, and he was being too overprotective like what Julia'd told him, and he should give him space, maybe—

"Yeah ?"

Benji's standing in the entrance, skin visibly paler than usual, with bright purple stains under his eyes. His beard is unkept, and his hair is a mess of locks, falling freely in his forehead. Had he been napping ?

"Hey," Ethan kind of lamely replies, waving awkwardly. "Can I come in ?"

"Oh. Yeah, sure. I guess."

His friend moves to the side, allowing the door to open wider and lets him inside the small barrack, where the bed was undone and multiple computers were laid on the covers. Not sleeping, then.

"It's pretty cold, huh ?" the older of the two remarks, "you should come 'round the foyer sometimes. They've got a nice fireplace."

"Huh ? Yeah, I guess," the other distractedly says, tugging at this scarf. That was his new fashion choice, from what Ethan could've noticed in the fast few weeks. That, or a turtleneck. "Did you need anything ? I'm...huh, a little busy, I guess."

"Oh, no, I just...I wanted to check up on you. See how you're doing, y'know ?"

"I'm fine," Benji retorts almost immediately, and his tone is barely snappy. "You know, same old."

"I mean, what happened with Ilsa was..."

"Nothing happened with Ilsa. Didn't you read the report ? We just knocked Lane off. More fright than hurt."

"No, I know, but still, I mean, we both know Lane and you have—"

"Have what, Ethan ?"

He pauses, visibly taken aback by the bite in his voice.

"Well. You...he doesn't like you, so I wanted to make sure that seeing him again wouldn't..." Ethan trails off, trying to find the right words, "wouldn't mess with your head."

"It hasn't," Benji replies, still tugging at his scarf, almost like it was choking him. "Was that all ?"

"You don't look comfortable in that thing," he points out, "maybe you should take it o—"

"NO !"

The yell rings out loudly against the four walls, and Ethan takes a step back in shock.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I didn't mean to..."

He stops himself, frowning in that way he did when something had just dawned upon him.

Not good, Benji thinks. Not good at all.

"Why are you always covering your neck ?"

"I don't want to catch the flu."

"It's not that cold."

"Okay, well, maybe not for you—"

"Benji," Ethan's voice turns serious, accusatory, even. "What's under the scarf ?"

"Nothing," the other horribly lies. "I told you, I'm fine."

"Alright. Then take it off."

"No."

"Benji, please."

"Why do you care so much ?!"

"Because you're my friend, and I haven't seen you in weeks despite us living in the same quarters, and you're acting all—all suspicious with it, and I'm scared something happened to you ! And I'm scared you're hiding it from me !"

"Oh, fuck this," Benji sneers, almost tearing the fabric from his neck, letting it drop harshly on the floor. "There. Happy, now ?!" he almost spits, face contorted in a mask of pure disgust. "Congrats, you found me out."

Ethan's breath catches in his throat, and he's pretty sure he felt the floor move oddly under his feet. Instinctively he wants to reach out to touch, but a flinch from the other man reminds him to know better.

The scars are ugly.

There's no other way to put it.

They're purple, yellow, red and black at the same time, and they spread around Benji's neck like twisted vines, almost cutting his veins in half. They're patches of pain and a testament of struggle, and they seem to be burning still, under the freezing air of the barrack. There are open wounds too, and they shine more crimson than they should.

"Wh..." he swallows harshly, trying to compose himself, "what happened ?"

"Nothing."

"This isn't nothing, Benji !"

"It's just scars. They'll fade eventually. This is all my fault anyway."

A beat.

No.

"Did you do this to yourself ?" Ethan manages to ask, voice small and in pieces, "Benji ?"

"What ?"

He'd heard that Benji had gone to several therapy appointments, after London. He knew, deep down, that his friend had never quite recovered from what Lane had put him through. How could he have, anyway ? God only knew what had happened between his capture and the restaurant. Had he gotten tortured ? He never talked about it, and it scared Ethan.

Because what else had he kept for him ?

"Did you—“ he chokes out, feeling ugly tears swell in his eyes, going to grab his friend's shoulders, "oh God, Benji, I'm—I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I should've known, I'm so sorry, I should've been there, I—"

"What ? No, I didn't—"

"I didn't realise you were in that bad of a place, I'm sorry, I—I wish you would've told me—"

"I didn't try to kill myself, Ethan !" Benji manages to yell, raising his hands defensively, "I didn't—this isn't self inflicted."

A silence.

"Really...?"

"Look, I—" he shakes his head, a bitter laugh coming out of his mouth, and Ethan hates it, because never should Benji sound like that. It didn't fit him. "It was Lane. I went to help Ilsa, Lane was waiting for me and choked me, and then hung me to the ceiling. Ilsa cut the rope right after I passed out. That's it. That's the story. Alright ? There's nothing more to say. It's my fault, and I'll assume the consequences."

"Lane hung you."

"Yeah."

"Wh...why didn't you tell me ?"

The other man shrugs.

"You were busy with recovering. Didn't want to bother you with it."

"How would that be bothering me in the slightest ?!" Ethan screams out frustratedly, "Benji, I was worried sick !"

"Alright," Benji snorts, looking still as angry, "well, now you know. All good ? Can I go back to my coding ?"

"Don't do that."

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're isolating yourself from me."

"I'm not. Look, I just...I'm tired. Okay, Ethan ? I'm tired, and my throat hurts, I've been eating soup for 11 days straight, and I can't cough, or laugh, and I'm—I'm just sick of it. And to top it off, all of this is my fault."

"No it's not," Ethan protests, voice now soft. "Please. Let me help you."

"I like your confidence, but you're not good enough to make rope burns disappear overnight."

"No, I'm not. But I can help with reminding you to apply cream, and do it for you, and stay with you if you need to talk. I—I want to. I want to be here for you. Please."

Benji's eyes finally meet his, and he breathes out. His shoulders slump, like tension had left his entire body.

"Okay. Can you...God, I—"

"Yes," his friend earnestly replies, impossibly close, "I'll do anything. Just ask."

The other man nods against his shoulder.

"Can you hug me ? Just a little."

Ethan smiles. Benji is warm against him.

"Yeah. I can do that."

#mission impossible #mission impossible fic #benthan #snovyda #I LOVE THIS KEEP EM COMIN

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chaos-bringer-13 · 2 months

Text

Tumblr deactivated my account but I am back. And I brought you some chaos.

Now, hear me out. Danny Phantom x Frozen crossover.

Just Danny being somehow teleported to Frozen world and meeting Elsa. They bond over royalty problems and ice powers (and their initial struggles with controlling their powers), and Danny uses his Phantom form to match Elsa's white hair, and they complain to each other about how they were hunted for who they are, and Elsa says something about how she's scared that her powers can hurt people after that time when she froze everything and Danny goes "Me too! A version of me once destroyed the world and I had to prevent that from happening!", and Danny's reaction to Olaf is just "It's like when hotdogs come to life in my house but friendly, so cool!"

* runs out of breath, pauses *

And Danny and Elsa both have red-headed sisters who at some point dated not-good-for-them guys. And Anna was frozen before being brought back to life and what if she's a halfa now? She had her hair turning white like a ghost, and she sort of died, right? She should be at least liminal! And Elsa actually could be some kind of Infinite Realms entity, with that whole fifth spirit thing from the second part.

And then Danny shows this cool new world to Jazz, and Elsa introduces Danny to Anna, and now Jazz bonds with Elsa over having chaotic younger siblings who want to save everyone. And when Dani joins, she immediately goes to explore and cause chaos, and she meets that giant snow monster (did you know that his name is Marshmallow? Adorable) and for no particular reason they form some kind of friendship, so now people can see Dani being carried oh so gently by this living mountain. Well, when she's not out of kingdom, of course. She might be starting a revolution in some authoritarian country, don't mind her.

Danny thinks that Sam probably wouldn't like Anna and Kristoff much because they're just such naive sunshines and Sam is, well, goth. Sam tells Danny that if she hadn't liked naive sunshines, she wouldn't have befriended him and Tucker, and proceeds to have a long conversation with Anna about how being from a rich family sometimes makes having any relationship so much harder. She then starts talking with Kristoff about animals rights, and Danny thinks that maybe he unleashed a power he wouldn't be able to stop.

Tucker probably doesn't find anything that really catches his attention in this world because there's no cool tech, but maybe he tries to apply his tech knowledge to magic and gets some crazy results (what do you mean you can't use "water has memory" thing for phone/computer memory? Well, watch him make this new cool computer that can make pictures out of ice and is even capable of making 3-dimensional ice sculptures images! How? Well, some ecto, some runes that Dani found for him in this world, some science... He's just that smart, yes.)

There are unconfirmed sightings of very confused Dan surrounded by trolls. They might have accidentally adopted this sad angry boy to show him love and affection.

#danny phantom #danny phantom x frozen #frozen #dp x frozen #fifth spirit Elsa has to have something in common with those embodiments of stuff spirits #halfa!Anna #possibly #maybe just #liminal!Anna #Anna: our parents are dead :(#Danny: ours are alive but they were just never there ya know #Anna and Danny the lonely children #Elsa: I just had to protect her no matter how hard it was for me because she's my younger sister #Jazz: I know right? It didn't matter that I didn't get to be a kid I had to protect Danny!#Elsa and Jazz the self-sacrificing elder sisters (in different yet similar ways)#danny: and then I died because of my stupidity but I was revived immediately haha #anna: oh me too!#very confused Dan: so what am I doing here exactly?#trolls: your heart may be frozen but true love will make it thaw

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runner5anna · 5 months

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Christmas Cactus

Heyo @kodessa ! I am your ZR secret Santa. Here is a festive fic for you.

Thank you @notforconsumption and @delucadarling for organising this !

It's Christmas day in Able township. It's icey, it's cold, it's not very festive. But, Sam is quite determined to at least make something warm out of the bad day.

There is no spoilers, its SFW but there is discussions of grief and cussing. Also cringe pick up lines.

"Shit!" Bellowed Sam, along with a cacophony of clattering coming from downstairs. Five sucked a lungful of cold air in, kicking the many layers of blankets off of her, grabbed the knife from under the bedside table and ran downstairs. She shoved open the door, shouting “who the hell is there?” and slashing at the air. Her chest heaved with adrenaline and fatigue. The cold air pressed on her bare feet, and her pyjama trousers were halfway up her legs.

‘Uh - just me?” Answered Sam. He was hunched over the side, which was covered in cocoa powder and parts of a mug. The forest green hoodie he wore to bed was covered in water. “Wait - is that another knife, 5? I thought we talked about this. You don’t need to keep knives under the bed side table.”

5 grinned and placed it down on the side. “I don’t know what you mean.” She slid it into the drawer, intending to pick it up later. “Need a hand?”

“No - I think I’m ok.” he sighed. He picked up his foot, inspecting it closely. “I stubbed my toe and dropped the pink mug. I found the cocoa powder at the bottom of the drawer in the comms shack. Happy Christmas, I guess?” he sighed, dusted the reminisce of the brown powder off the base of his foot, and placed it down - deciding that it wasn’t broken, just sore. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Oh shit - that day already?” 5 ran her hands up her face, pressing her palms into her eyes. She really needed a shower. Her face felt slick with sweat and grime from the night. Maybe she’d treat herself later to a lukewarm one.

“Yeah. Snuck up on me too. I looked at the clock on the computer last night and it was the 24th! I wanted to surprise you with some hot cocoa but I pigged that one up pretty badly.” He sniffled, and the tears welled like little gems in the corner of his large brown eyes.

“Oh - bless your heart, Sammy. You’re too kind for this world.” 5 opened her arms, inviting him in for a hug. He placed his bristled chin on her head and sighed, relaxing into her touch. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I know. I’m the best.” He grinned. “But - I wanted to. So I did.” He pulled away from 5 and picked up the brush from the side. “I need to clean up. Snow isn’t brown. Unless it's mixed with mud. Or zombie parts. But I suppose I’d quite like chocolate snow.”

“How’s about I make us hot chocolate with what we have left over? And we can do…” Five pressed her tongue against her teeth in thought. “...festive things.”

“What can we do? Really?”

5 lent down to scoop up some more powder back into the pot. If she grabbed a collider, she could at least filter out some of the dust. It was salvageable at least - and there wasn’t much of this stuff left in the world so they should at least treasure it. Somewhat disgusting, yes, but it was the apocalypse. If you could be disgusting, it was now. It would be good for her immune system development, her mother would say. “I’m not actually sure. It’s not like we have a big dinner we can make or gifts.”

“Janine has given us the day off - for those that want it.”

“I might head out eventually, then.”

Sam slowly turned around, and pleaded. “Please don’t. It’s -6. It’s freezing. The ground is solid. You’ll slip. Plus it’s Christmas. Let’s just have a day together - It’s been too long.”

5 pulled a hair from the powder. It was short, brown and blunt - one of Janine’s. Her hair managed to get everywhere. It was a nice reminder that she was there somewhere - a dependable figure even in the hardest of times. “I don’t know what we can do, really.” she tutted. “We don’t even have a tree.”

Sam gave a little gasp, and quickly shuffled over to the window where he held up Cedrick the Cactus. He was a medium sized fluffy plant - whose fuzz were actually tiny spines which Sam found out rather painfully. 5 wasn’t quite sure why she grabbed it off of the shelf, but she didn’t regret it. He kept 5 and Sam entertained, and it gave them something to talk about outside of the insanity of work, how tired they were and whoever had died recently.

“Let’s decorate Cedrick!”

“Won’t I be pulling spines out of your hand for the next week again?”

“No.” He pouted. “Get your crochet, I’ll get a pen and paper. Let’s make some Christmas clothes for him. It will be fun!”

5 felt her belly rise with giggles that Sam could only bring from her. He was a ray of sunshine - everything good in the world. When 5 was with Sam, she felt like the best version of herself, like the world was lighter and the breeze was fresher. Her heart fluttered and her cheeks began to flush with how much she realised she was smiling.

“Let me go get dressed and I’ll be with you.”

“Ah ah ah!” Sam grabbed her hand, gently pulling her back and wrapping his arms around her waist. “Absolutely not. No one gets dressed before midday on Christmas.”

“If you say so. But I need a shower later. I’ll get dressed then.”

“I’ll give you one of my shower tokens. My treat.”

“Don’t you need them?”

“Nah. I’m clean enough. And I don’t go running multiple times a week. They’re upstairs, I think in my jeans pocket.”

“My crochet is upstairs as well - I’ll grab them on the way. And who knows. If I’m feeling generous later I’ll let you share the shower later.” 5 purred as she slunk out of the room, leaving Sam blushing a deep shade of beetroot red.

5 plodded down the stairs, still in their faded plaid pyjamas as promised, crochet hooks and wool in hand. She turned into the kitchen to see Sam was doodling, colouring and shading. He held the paper happily up - on it was a bundle of red berries and green leaves. “Mistletoe!” he announced proudly. “You know what that means?”

“No.” Five teased, leaning across the table. She softly held his gaze. Usually, Sam’s eyes darted everywhere, like he was avoiding eye contact with everyone while gaining as much information around him as possible. In moments like this, his eyes - beautiful pools of watercolour brown - held steady and calm.

“It means you-” he poked 5 on the nose with the paper. “-have to give me a kiss.”

“Ugh. If you insist.” 5 joked. She placed her hand on the base of Sam’s neck, pulling him across the table and into a kiss. It was deep and long, as the two relaxed into each other. 5 inhaled a smell she’d grown to love so much of marmite, washing powder and ink. Before he pulled away, Sam nuzzled their noses together, grinning from ear to ear.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

“You’re welcome.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Five sat down, pulling up a chair and setting her crochet on the table. “What do you think I should make?”

“A little scarf, or a hat maybe. I think a tiny scarf will be easier. If your hand starts to hurt you can help me with the decorations.”

“All right.” Five started with a quick slip not, starting to make the first chain. “I always feel a little startled when I need to relax. I’m always so on edge that when I set time aside to be quiet and have time to myself I’m always waiting for the proverbial hat to drop.”

Sam hummed in agreement. “It is hard to relax now isn’t it? With the grey wandering outside the walls and regularly staring death in the ugly maw.” He finished colouring in a little robbin and began to cut around it with the scissors.

“I thought you were banned from using scissors by Maxine after the great finger slice event.”

“For your information, that ban was temporary. How was I supposed to know that Maxine had just sharpened her scissors? Who has scissors that sharp anyway?” he subconsciously ran his thumb over the scar on his finger.

“Who uses massive scissors on such a tiny thing?”

“Oh, be quiet!” He threw the roll of string at 5’s head. “Can I have that back please.”

5 leaned down to grab it, and spoke while she slid it across the table. “Events always feel so odd now. And I never quite know how to feel. I’m happy I survived another year I suppose.” She finished off a row and started another. “It’s such a tiny scarf, I’ll be done soon.”

Sam stood up and boiled the kettle. “I’m just letting the glue set - I won’t spill the hot chocolate powder. Close your mouth runner 5 I can tell exactly what you’ll tease me about.”

“What do you mean?” She scoffed mockingly.

“You were going to make fun of me for sticking my hand to my head with aeroplane glue.”

“I was not.”

“Yes you were.”

The two went back and forth, squabbling in good spirits while Sam made the hot chocolate.

“Oh - Sam look! Cedrick has a little flower. He's bloomed.”

“He reminds me of you in a way. You thrive in the harshest times, and you are very pretty.” He passed a mug over to 5, giving her a gentle kiss on the head. “You’re my little pretty flower.”

“Thank you, darling.” 5 pulled the final thread through, finishing off the tiny scarf. It wasn’t great, considering she’d not spent long on the thing, and the colours didn’t quite match the decor that Sam made. “It looks so bad.”

“What? I think it looks good. Christmas trees are not supposed to look good.”

“Cedrick is a Christmas cactus, and we made this in about 45 minutes. It's more ironic than anything - I don’t think they’re supposed to look good. But, y’know, I like him more because we raised him together, and we decorated him as well.” Sam wrapped an arm around 5’s shoulders, squeezing them comfortingly. “I want to make another one next year. I think it would be a good tradition.”

“I think…I’d like that. Christmas is so traditional - and now for the first time in ages we can’t do all of them. I’m so used to being with everyone at Christmas that it feels almost positive to create new traditions.”

“I don’t think Christmas will ever not be hard.” Sam mused between sips of hot chocolate and blowing on too hot marshmallows. “I cried one year because I put out 6 sets of cutlery for dinner even though It had been 2 years since my grandad died. No - three.”

“It will be hard - but with you I feel I can handle it. Thank you, for being there for me Sam. I appreciate you.”

“I appreciate you too, 5.” He placed his head on top of

“I think it’s just all been a lot. Even if we are a few years into the apocalypse, Christmas will always feel different. But I am happy I can spend it with you.”

“You know what I really want to do?”

“What? Remember it’s not midday yet, so there's no getting dressed. It’s the Christmas law.”

“No - I follow Christmas law. I want to cuddle and watch the Doctor Who Christmas specials in bed. Do you have them on your laptop?”

“Do I ever! I thought you’d never ask. That is a new and old Christmas tradition I can get behind.”