I periodontally disappear for undetermined amounts of time because...life
I write wlw, but do have a few other fics from a while ago
My requests are currently closed, but i’m a big softy and if there's something you would like written then send it my way but it just might take awhile for me to get to it
Summary: Life back with the living is difficult enough without Yelena contributing r own brand of chaos to it.
Word Count: 8.2k
Warnings: swearing, mentions of past deaths, injuries, mental illness
Pairing: Yelena Belova x fem!Reader
First, you will be cold. So incredibly cold. You could feel each nerve throughout your body, and they ached. They ached with every step, every breath. Even after all this time as you sat in your chair, waiting for the next person to be brought in for help. And you were still cold.
Most of your days in the medbay were spent in long sleeves and, if it was slow enough, blankets. Gloves were helpful, if you could find the right ones. Hugs, hugs were always nice. Especially the ones from Alexei, he was especially warm. It felt like stepping into a warm bath after catching hypothermia, but it was worth the pain. Sometimes you would just stay in his arms until you couldn’t take it anymore.
“Hugging?”
You turned your head to face the doorway. Beneath your ear, you could hear Alexei’s heartbeat, loud and strong. Yelena stood in the doorway, looking entirely unimpressed. With her skin covered in dirt and bruises and the remnants of blood, you felt similarly.
“She’s cold,” Alexei said defensively. “Huggings are the cure.”
“What did you need, Yelena?” You asked.
“Walker came back with a gunshot or two.” She looked to have a few injuries of her own that needed attention. “Want him to come down?”
“Yes, send him-”
“-Not until she’s warm.”
Alexei’s arms tightened around your shoulders, holding you suffocatingly close to him. He was warm. You had blamed the Super Soldier Serum; after all, Bucky and Walker were also warmer than normal. You later concluded, through vast points of comparison, that he was just warm. Maybe it was part of being a dad.
You jumped. A second pair of arms wrapped themselves firmly around your waist, snaking between you and Alexei. Strategic. Yelena’s forehead was painfully warm against your shoulder. You didn’t care. Your arms were planted snugly between your and Alexei’s chest. The cold at your fingertips tingled painfully and your waist throbbed, but the warmth was there. It didn’t fix anything; it didn’t ease the cold. But the warmth was there.
The three of you stood there for you didn’t know how long. The longer they stayed wrapped around you, the more it hurt. You let your head drop to rest on Yelena’s. A small touch, something you wouldn’t normally let anyone else see, but you could trust Alexei. After all, he just wanted his remaining daughter to be safe.
You snaked a hand down until your fingers brushed against Yelena’s. She twitched but otherwise remained still. You had made a mistake. Why would she wish to feel your skin against hers? You made to pull your hand away, but her fingers wiggled against yours until they were as tangled between yours as could be possible.
“Warm yet?” Yelena asked softly.
No. No, you weren’t warm. You didn’t think you would ever be warm again.
You nodded.
When they pulled away, the cold felt all the more painful. Perhaps you simply needed the physical touch. Or to fill the empty hole that had situated itself firmly in the centre of whatever had replaced your soul. You didn’t know. Maybe you never would.
“I told you,” Alexei said in his booming voice. He just couldn’t help it. “Huggings help.”
Yelena reached over and held your hand by your pinkies.
Looking down at her, you could more closely see the imperfections marring her face. The shallow scratch near her eyebrow, now red and angry from lack of care. Dirt was rubbed underneath and behind her ear, and lightly coated the lobe. Blood was smeared across her face.
Your pinky burned.
“Why are you two just lookin-”
“-So can you fix Walker or not?” Yelena asked, interrupting her father. You could have laughed.
“I can fix him,” you answered.
“I’ll go send him down.”
She unhooked her finger from yours and left without a second glance. The cold rushed back through every cell until you wanted to scream. But your mouth remained closed, and you watched pitifully as Yelena walked out of the medbay door. You should have told her thank you for the hug.
“Always so cranky,” Alexei said once Yelena was long gone. “Didn’t even say goodbye.”
You patted him on his sturdy, muscular shoulder. “Let’s finish checking you over.”
Yelena would be back.
Second, you will wake up screaming. Initially, you thought it only meant when you came back; that would have been okay. It could’ve been worked with. A temporary moment of insanity, rightfully earned. It wasn’t. After every nap, every single time you woke up, you were screaming. You had worked out a way to stop rather quickly once conscious, but it didn’t prevent the screams. Your throat was eternally raw. Water was your closest friend.
Bucky understood that pain more than most. He tried giving you the most reliable tips. Don’t move too fast, keep at least three glasses of water by your bed at all times, don’t sleep around others. The first two tips were easy enough to keep up with; you already tried to drown yourself with the amount of water you consumed throughout the day.
Sometimes you would avoid sleeping. Staying in the medbay, doing whatever research you could. New breakthroughs, new advances. You didn’t need them, but you did your best to stay up to date. Not everyone knew of your abilities, and you weren’t too keen on sharing the small bit of information you had.
All those late nights inevitably lead to your waking up in the medbay. Where everyone could hear.
You heard the footsteps rushing to the medbay. You heard everything. The glass from your cup was sprawled across the floor, creating a hazardous situation for all involved. As the steps got closer, you continued picking up the pieces, being careful not to knick yourself in the process.
“Are you okay?”
Yelena slid through the open doorway, stopping herself just short of the disaster radius you had created. She looked at you (only ever at you) with tired eyes. Something creaked as she bent down to start picking up the pieces of your mess.
“I heard screaming,” she said, “and glass.”
You picked up a piece that had part of the pattern etched into it. The old Avengers logo with their signatures all around it. A little pretentious considering they already had an entire tower named after them. And cartoons. And commercials. And merch. Okay, it was incredibly pretentious. The piece was broken in the middle of Romanoff.
“Nightmare,” you said, putting the glass shards into the specified bin. “Sorry for waking you.”
“You thought I was sleeping?”
Yelena picked up the pieces a little slower. You knew she hadn’t been sleeping, you were no fool. No one in the tower could sleep soundly at any point, day or night. They would sleep when they were dead. They had too much trauma, too many regrets, to get a restful night. No, you knew better.
“What were you doing down here?” You asked. Both of you pushed yourselves up to your feet after grabbing the last of the big pieces.
Yelena handed you the broom, your fingertips brushing. “If Walker tries to impress me with his military bullshit one more time, I will kill him.”
“And my office is the better option?”
Glass clinked in the metal trash can as Yelena practically flopped onto your couch. “You know how to mind your own business.”
Right. Not for any other reason, you thought, even as her eyes never left you. That was something you… cherished about the Widow. She only came down to your office, or your suite, or met you at the little bookshop down the street because you minded your own business. It couldn’t possibly be anything else.
“Can I get you some tea?” You asked. The broom was leaned against the wall carefully so it wouldn’t slip and clash against the floor. Your hands shook.
“No.” She patted the spot on the couch beside her. “You can join me, though.”
There was no hesitation in your steps. You quickly made your way to the couch and sat down, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. It was childish; a habit you had created after coming back. Maybe you had done it when you were younger. Either way, it brought the smallest sense of comfort.
The couch shifted until Yelena’s head rested gently on your shoulder, her hair tickling your nose. You sat there silently, listening to her steady breathing. Her heart beat rapidly. Her hand stuck under your leg and wrapped around your ankle; a habit she had picked up. It was grounding for both of you.
“What was your nightmare about?” You asked.
“I thought that was you,” she deflected.
“Humour me.”
Her hand tightened around your ankle. Softly, her finger started rubbing against the little scar underneath the protruding part of your ankle bone, a scar you had no memory of receiving. If she kept at it, as she often did, it would leave a raw spot, increasing the size of the scar. You never minded.
“That girl I killed,” she said quietly, “in the Red Room.”
You hummed and let your head fall gently onto hers. The usual nightmare, it would seem. The thing that usually kept her awake and aware. You had tried to talk to her about it once. Only once. She would never say it again, and you wouldn’t ask.
“What was yours?” She asked.
“My what?”
“Your nightmare.”
Right. Your nightmare, the thing that you weren’t even sure was a nightmare. It was… the real thing, wasn’t it? Part of you felt it had actually happened, it wasn’t just some irrational fear created by your broken mind. But every time you woke up, you couldn’t exactly remember the details.
You thought of something different.
“Walker kissed me.”
“That makes mine sound like a dream,” she teased.
“Yelena.”
“I’m serious. I would rather kill myself.”
“He’s not that bad.”
“Worth kissing?”
“Absolutely not.”
“That’s what I thought.”
The malice she felt toward Walker was wonderful. It was distracting enough for both of you to get your heads out of whatever trauma was haunting you. You could laugh about him - though you felt no genuine ill will toward the veteran - and move on with your lives.
Yelena’s head stayed on your shoulder. In the distance, you could hear someone playing music on another floor. Something loud, deafening, necessary. You understood. No one was getting any sleep in the tower, just like usual. Hopefully, they wouldn’t come down and ask for a sedative. Again.
Somehow much louder than the music echoing in the vents, you heard Yelena’s heartbeat finally slow to its resting rate. You refused to move even an inch. Her finger had stopped rubbing the sore spot on your skin, and your own shoulders relaxed. Perhaps she was finally asleep.
“This is not comfortable.”
Never mind.
“The couch turns into a bed,” you suggested. “Not much comfier, but at least you can lie down.”
“Are you going to join me?”
“Propositioning me?”
Yelena lifted her head from your shoulder and held you captive with the mesmerising look in her eyes. If she ever asked you to kill for her, you would. If she asked you to live for her, you would. And the worst part of it all? She knew it.
“If I must sleep, then so do you,” she said with the smallest smile you had ever seen.
You sighed and stretched your legs, feeling the ache of the scar before standing up and pulling her with you.
“I suppose that’s fair.”
“Don’t worry,” she said as she helped you pull the bed out and get it set up. “I’ll keep Walker away from your dreams.”
If she slept next to you, you knew she would.
Third, your entire body will throb. They told you the pain would subside, but they lied. Being brought back is never a painless task, they said. You understood, you really did. Being a healer of your… particular talents, you knew how painful any sort of life-giving could be. You just wished it would go away after all this time.
If the pain was especially bad, Ava would sit with you. She’d situate herself behind your curled body and watch the medbay door. If anyone came in, she quickly directed them to one of the other medics. You tried to thank her just once, but she told you to shut up and that was that. She still showed up the next time.
“You’re getting worse,” Ava said, her hand gently rubbing up and down your curved back.
“It can’t get worse,” you argued in a weak voice. “It’s already debilitating.”
“It can get worse,” she said.
Your head remained tucked firmly underneath your arms. Your chest was pressed against your chest in a hopeless attempt to ease the pain. Nothing ever helped, not really. But Ava’s hand on your spine was comforting. You weren’t alone in your pain. Never alone.
“Shall I get Yelena?” Ava’s hand ceased its ministrations.
“No.”
“But you-”
“-No.”
In the time you had known Yelena, she had never seen you so… pathetic. Sleep deprived, of course. Angry on occasion. She had helped you clean the mess left from a rampage or two and had been your assistant for one or two emergency operations on her team. Never had she seen you in such a vulnerable position.
If you had anything to do with it, she never would.
Ava’s hand slowly started moving again. Your entire body shook at her gentle, soothing touch. Thankfully, she wasn’t as painfully warm as the men, so her skin left a subtle ache instead of a scorching inferno. Uncomfortable, but doable.
“Would you like to hear it again?”
You nodded, and Ava told her story. The story of the original Avengers, with much more reality added to it. It wasn’t a happy story, but it wasn’t depressing. Showcasing the horrors they left behind, the destruction, but also the hope. A realistic story was more hopeful than anything else.
“My sister was better than that.”
Your entire body tensed, and you shot up until you were sitting. The sudden movement shocked your nerves, shooting lightning across your skin. Yelena was standing in the doorway, eyes wide and looking down at your spot on the floor. Ava’s hand shifted until it gripped your shoulder.
“Then tell your own story,” Ava said.
“Are you okay?” Yelena asked, still looking directly at you.
“What do you need?” You asked through gritted teeth.
“Are you dying?”
“Why would she be dying?”
“Is she?”
“I know you’re not stupid enough to believe pain equates to dying.”
“You’re in pain?”
“Both of you shut up!”
Your voice was rough and unkind. Both Ava and Yelena froze, looking at you with something akin to pity. They knew you never yelled, especially not at them. Walker, perhaps, but not them. Yet you had done just that, and you didn’t even feel the least bit sorry.
That was a lie.
“What do you want?” You asked again.
“It can wait.”
“Just say it,” you growled.
Yelena stared at you. Not at Ava, at you. You hated it when she looked at you that way. It left an uneasiness in your stomach that wouldn’t go away for days at a time. She knew you inside and out, whether you wanted her to or not. And you didn’t. You didn’t want her to know you at all. It was safer.
You raised a brow.
She glanced at Ava. “I was going to ask if you wanted to get food.” Her eyes fell back to you. “But we can go another time.”
No. That’s what you should have said. You should have told her no. It wouldn’t be wise to get lunch with Yelena Belova, the infamous Black Widow. Danger was attracted to her, and Death was attracted to you. If anything happened to her, you wouldn’t fight the inevitable any longer, because what would be the point?
But you couldn’t help yourself.
“Let’s go.”
“You’re sure?” Ava asked, but she was already helping you stand. Your hand gripped hers while her other hand rested comfortably on your hip, steadying your shaking body.
“Only if you help me,” you told Yelena.
Her eyes narrowed before she got the hint and lunged to your side, taking over for Ava, who hesitantly handed you over. It was humiliating, but what could you do? The pain was nearly overwhelming, every breath sending a new wave through your body. Yelena’s hands burned on your skin.
For more than one reason.
“Nothing too crazy, Belova,” Ava said.
“We can take the car,” she answered.
“Drive carefully.”
“I’m not an invalid,” you snapped. They fell silent.
You ripped your hand out of Yelena’s and walked out of her grasp. Each step sent a shock up your legs. It didn’t matter. You kept walking out of the room, knowing Yelena would follow after you. She always followed after you. You waited in the elevator for her, and she quickly took her place beside you.
The floors ticked by at a steady pace.
“I can order food,” Yelena said softly. “We can eat at my place.”
“Shut up,” you said just as softly.
You reached out and wrapped your arm through hers, leaning on her slightly. It eased the pain in your hip just enough not to be miserable. She stiffened before quickly regaining composure, steeling herself to keep you steady.
Walking out of the elevator was much easier with her by your side.
Fourth, you will try to return. Death does not let go of her wards so easily. She’s a possessive one, that Lady Death. From the moment she wrapped you in her arms, she never wanted to let go, and you were content to let her keep you. Each moment is a struggle to remain with the living.
You didn’t exactly want to die again. It wasn’t so much a conscious thing, at least not to your knowledge. You found comfort in spending time with the team you had become a part of. Yelena made things easier, even as you both navigated the unusual relationship between you.
The lack of desire did not stop you from subconsciously running into danger.
Explosions rocked the ground beneath your feet. Each step was calculated to prevent tripping or, worse, falling on your face. How many times had you asked them not to blow shit up? But oh, Bucky and Alexei loved it so much, how could they ever stay true to their word?
You grumbled and held your ears as another explosion went off to your right. They were going to make you deaf, and you were going to make them suffer for it. Slow healing for the rest of their fucking lives, mark your words.
Bunch of assholes, you thought.
They were talking over the comms that you also unfortunately had lodged firmly in your ear. Every comment, every snarky reply, every swear and groan and injury, both given and received. All the while, you remained silent. You weren’t dumb enough to clog their communications with your little internal dialogue you had going on.
“Civilian to your left,” Walker said. “Behind the fire hydrant.”
You looked to your left and sighed.
“The broken one?”
“Roger that.”
Of course it was.
Bullets whizzed past your ear, and you fell to the ground. Your sleeve caught in the small fire next to you. It burned, and you didn’t bother pulling yourself away until the bullets ceased. When you crawled forward, the water raining down from the broken hydrant put the fire out, and you were left with singed, aching skin.
The “civilian,” as Walker so politely called her, was nothing more than a teenager at best. Blood pooled underneath her, originating from what looked to be shrapnel stuck in her left leg. You pressed down around the wound until you felt what you were looking for.
“I’m sorry,” you told her, even though you were sure she couldn’t hear you.
You put your hands completely over the wound and pressed down. The girl groaned but didn’t wake up. Warmth flowed from your palms into the open skin. Energy leaked from you like an open faucet. Your eyes fluttered, but you remained focused. The wound slowly stitched itself back together, taking its sweet time before closing completely. Blood trickled from your nose.
It left a scar; it always did. You found that more people were okay with scars as long as they were still breathing. The girl moved, her head shaking back and forth across the rubble slowly. Good, it was working. You never should have doubted yourself.
“Come on,” you said as you slipped your hands underneath her arms and pulled. Her feet dragged across the ground. The muscles in your thighs pulled tight; perhaps you needed to take Yelena up on her offer of training.
Hidden behind a half-standing wall, you laid the girl back to the ground. It was out of sight, out of danger. Or so you thought. Bullets slammed into the other side of the wall, blasting dust into the air. It tickled your nose. You didn’t duck, staying upright and listening to the warfare going on around you.
Something exploded overhead. Debris rained down, clipping you in the shoulder. You shifted away out of reflex, but otherwise remained still. Across the street you saw Her. She held your gaze, drawing you closer until-
“-Move.”
Yelena slammed into you like a train, knocking you onto the ground. Her body covered yours; her weight pressing down on you was a comfort. Your face pressed into the rubble - unintentionally, of course - and you felt the tiny pinprick of splitting skin on your cheek.
“Do you want to die?” She asked harshly.
Her weight disappeared from your back, and you sat up. She was giving you the look that made your hands shake. Something within you started stitching itself back together, slowly. You looked over her shoulder, and Death looked back. She smiled.
“Listen to me,” Yelena said, shaking your shoulders roughly. It felt like your brain rattled in your skull. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“No,” you said quickly. Your eyes looked over her shoulder again. “I thought I saw-”
“-You didn’t,” she interrupted. “You didn’t see Her.”
You did. You saw her, the same way you saw her any other time on any other day. In the reflection of the tea kettle in your suite. In the always-empty booth at the cafe down the road. In the shimmer of the scalpel down in the medbay while you were patching everyone up. Sometimes even in the dark hallways when you couldn’t sleep and you were desperately trying to run yourself ragged in the hopes of blacking out.
Something screamed past your heads. Yelena pulled you down to the ground again. You met her eyes and immediately started crawling across the ground until you were both behind some sort of wall. As one, you both sat with your backs to the wall, breathing hard as it shook and rattled with each hit.
“Can you shoot?” Yelena asked.
“I’m a healer,” you pleaded, but she was already holding out a gun for you to take.
“But?”
She dropped the gun in your lap, and you fumbled it. You didn’t like it, it was a weapon. You didn’t remember ever taking the Hippocratic Oath, but Valentina’s records said you did. A gun went against everything you stood for. Now Yelena wanted you to use it? Against other people?!
You sighed. The gun was heavy in your hands, but you at least remembered how to hold it. Hopefully. You took three quick, ragged breaths before kneeling and turning around. Your finger squeezed around the trigger until you heard a *click* and you dropped back to the ground. You looked at Yelena.
“You missed.”
“What?” You cried.
“Every single shot.”
“Oh my god.”
“I’ve never seen someone shoot that bad before.”
“I told you I was a healer.”
“The two are not mutually exclusive.”
“Are you getting us out of here or not?”
“Hold on.”
You didn’t bother looking as Yelena stood up and started shooting. It would’ve been humiliating, and you couldn’t handle it. Even before that moment she had jumped at the chance to tease you over the smallest of things. Now she could add “horrible shot” to the list and you could never get that reputation back.
As Yelena continued to shoot and duck, you saw Death standing across from you, hand stretched in your direction. It would be simple to take it, to let her walk you back home. Her cold hand would be a comfort; one of the only things to not contribute to the burning pain in your skin from every touch. There would be a comfort in it, a feeling that nothing could compare to.
A scalding hand grabbed your shoulder and yanked you back to the ground.
“Suka,” Yelena growled.
A hole formed in your chest as you watched Death step backward, disappearing within the dust and chaos. You were alone.
“Why would you do that?” You asked. It took too long for you to realise what you had asked; your mouth snapped shut.
“If She wanted you so badly, She shouldn’t have let you go,” she answered harshly.
You just stared at her.
“She kept my sister,” Yelena said in a softer tone. “She doesn’t get to keep you too.”
You could have said something snarky. You should have. ‘I didn’t know you liked me that much.’ Maybe even ‘Tad possessive, are we?’ Nothing came out of your mouth, not when she couldn’t even look at you. She just looked where Death had been standing, almost as if she could see Her too. You knew she couldn’t; it was just as well.
Instead, you reached over and grabbed her hand, linking your fingers between hers. She flinched. You could feel every injury that littered her body, from the big gashes to the small bruises. With the slightest effort, you let your energy flow between your hands, healing everything along the way. Yelena looked at you in horror and tried to pull away. You held on tight.
Her entire body shivered when you were done; you didn’t think you had ever done a full body heal before. Warmth trickled from your nose and over your lips. It tasted coppery. You licked your lips clean - very coppery - and looked back at Yelena.
“That was weird,” she said simply.
“I… will ask first next time,” you answered.
She squeezed your hand once. You squeezed back three times. It was the closest you could be. For now.
Fifth, you will only remember how you died. Every waking moment is spent with the fear that you will return to Death at any moment. Each night as you slept, you dreamt of the moment you died. Each ounce of pain and fear filled your body and soul until you woke. The images would never leave. That is the only thing you remember. Not even your own name.
Not knowing anything about yourself was an unusual feeling. Sure, you made new memories, but you couldn’t recall a single moment of your life before you came back to the mortal plane. It was unsettling, and left you disoriented. Even hearing how the others had awful childhoods left you envious for something you would never relate to.
It never occured to you that some things were worth forgetting. Walker wanted to forget the death of his best friend. Ava and Yelena wished to forget their childhood trauma. Bucky wished to forget just near everything. And Alexei… well, you didn’t know what he wanted to forget, maybe it was nothing. He seemed to be in pretty chipper spirits most of the time.
You were reading through your file when Yelena stormed into your suite. She threw her keys against the wall, chipping the paint where it made contact. You frowned. It was impossible to colour match in the Tower, you were going to have an off-coloured spot for the rest of your tenure.
“Where were you?”
Your mouth snapped shut. What did she mean? You looked around your suite. The empty tea cups littered the kitchen, leaving tea rings on the counter and wooden end table. A half-eaten donut was on a paper towel in front of you, now probably stale.
“Here?” You questioned. Where else could you have been?
“We needed you and you weren’t there.” Yelena stepped closer, staying a few feet away from you.
“I wasn’t called,” you said with a small, humourless laugh. Yelena wasn’t smiling.
“People died,” she said, “and you didn’t save them.”
“I wasn’t called,” you reiterated, standing up slowly from your spot on the couch. “On top of that, I maybe could’ve saved one or two, not-” you gestured vaguely in front of you “-however many there were.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not a miracle worker, Yelena.” You huffed and gave her an uncomfortable smile. She stared at you with hard, angry eyes.
“Then what good are you?”
She spat the question like a curse. If the couch hadn’t already been pressing against the backs of your knees, you would’ve put some distance between you. Yelena had never questioned you before. Initially she had questioned the lengths of your ability, sure, but never you.
“I’m sorry?” You asked quietly.
She doubled down. “What kind of a healer are you if you can’t even keep people alive?”
“A normal one?” You paused, head tilted at her. “I’m not an endless source.”
“Then you need to do better.”
All the blood in your body seemed to freeze, leaving your skin feeling colder than usual. You hadn’t heard her right. She was angry, understandably so if the mission had gone wrong. Angry Yelena was a force to be reckoned with, but she was never overly cruel. Just honest.
“What did you say?”
“You need to do better.”
“I need to do better?” Your frozen blood flash boiled in your veins until the anger bubbled over. “How about you keep them alive instead of calling me all the time to clean up your mess?”
Yelena held your eyes as she ripped the gloves off her hands and threw them to the floor. They had resided on your floor a lot the past few weeks. Some small part of your brain dedicated itself to finding a proper spot for them later.
“Why?” She asked. “So you can run away from your responsibilities?”
“What responsibilities?” You asked incredulously, extending your arms to envelope the room. “In case you forgot, I was hired to fix your team.” She blinked. “Anyone else is on a first-come, first-served basis.”
“You’ve saved plenty,” she said, stepping forward to tap her finger against your temple. “Did this 'first-come, first-served’ belief come before or after you failed?”
Her finger burned a hole through your temple and deep into your brain, searching desperately for the memory that wasn’t there. Failure. Your failure. Holding the girl’s hand, listening to her scream and beg for help that wouldn’t come. Help that couldn’t even hear her under the rubble.
You shook your head and averted your gaze. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Yelena repeated. “Then what do you know?”
You shook your head again and looked at the folder sitting on the small table. It housed only a handful of papers, each giving you the most minute insight into what you couldn’t remember. Maybe you should have talked to her about this before.
“What do you know?” She asked. Her frown remained.
No answer came to your mind. Nothing. What did you know? Nothing. You knew nothing, remembered nothing, felt nothing. There was nothing to say, and every atom of your body screamed to run, to escape the torrent of questions. Your hands shook.
“Because it seems more and more like you don’t know anything.”
A dam burst deep within your chest.
“You want to know what I know?” You asked. She took half a step back. “You want to know what I-” you snatched the folder and threw it at her chest “-read it!” Her brows furrowed. “Everything I know is in this fucking folder!”
Yelena stood there with wide eyes.
“What?” You asked. “You don’t want to read it?” She looked at you with something you couldn’t understand; she didn’t make a move. “Here,” you said, forcing the papers into the folder and holding it up, “I’ll read it to you.”
It was childish on your part, you knew. You could understand that much. That didn’t mean you could stop yourself from flipping through the papers to find the beginning; a meager beginning that answered nothing.
“Born to two surgeons in redacted. Possesses the ability to heal physical injuries at the cost of her own energy and body function, discovered after redacted. Graduated salutatorian at redacted before attending redacted. Completed a residency at redacted before moving on to redacted. Was working at redacted during the redacted, where she was killed in a building collapse caused by redacted.”
You ignored the way the look in her eyes had your stomach turning. It wouldn’t fix anything, it didn’t matter, you were angry. Her lips were pressed tight, and she just looked at you. Always looking at you.
“Does that clear things up for you?” You asked. “Or would you like me to read it again?”
Your voice cracked on the last few words; it was humiliating. You opened your mouth to try and say something, anything that would distract her from your weakness. Yelena was quicker. The air was knocked out of your lungs as her arms wrapped too tightly around your shoulders. You didn’t have enough mobility to hug her back.
The rubble pressed tight against your chest. Each exhale gave it milliliters of space to press tighter, and it did. Every time. Every breath. You couldn’t move and if you could have afforded to lose the space, you would have screamed from desperation. Panic. The girl kept yanking your hand as she futilely tried to escape.
Yelena squeezed tighter, and the panic dissipated. Oh. It was just a hug. A safe hug. One that didn’t trap you but instead kept you grounded. She… could do that? You did your best to hug her back with the limited space you had available for movement.
She pulled away, her eyes locking with yours. You let yourself fall to the ground, pulling your knees up tight to your chest. Behind you, the couch remained a stable constant. Yelena hesitated, standing in the spot you had left her, before following your lead and kneeling down to sit beside you.
Her arm curled around your leg and rested on your ankle. She rubbed the scar.
“You don’t remember anything?” She asked quietly.
You shook your head. “I remember holding a little girl’s hand,” you said. “I remember giving her my literal life.” She struggled more as your eyes went out of focus. “I remember she didn’t even make it.”
Her fingers rubbed the skin harder; it burned.
“I’m sorry.”
The suite was silent. All the anger chomping at your heels had dissipated, leaving nothing but a hollow cove in the middle of your belly. But it wasn’t all bad. The hole was slowly filling itself up with the warmth from Yelena’s hand, and her head resting on your shoulder. She was so close you could feel her steady, controlled breath against your knee.
“Tell me about your sister,” you said softly, pouring vulnerability into the very essence of the words.
Yelena’s fingers stopped rubbing your scar for a fraction of a second, but it quickly resumed its ministrations.
“You really want to know?”
You shrugged and rested your head on top of hers.
“My folder is awfully empty,” you said. “Plenty of space for some new memories.”
Almost instantly her voice started filling the empty space, telling tales of her sister from youth to adulthood. And you sat there, shivering underneath her warmth, drowning in every word she had to say. Yelena would make for some nice, new memories.
Sixth, all your emotions are borrowed from who you used to be. You will fake laughter and comfort, not for yourself, but for the sake of those who knew you. All except anger; that is yours. The anger is made up of all the pieces of Death that still cling to your soul. The anger is yours because Death has nowhere else to go.
Unlike most of your… teammates (you use the term lightly, they’re acquaintances at best), you’re more than capable of controlling your anger. You clamped your mouth shut and separated yourself until the feeling subsided. It always worked. That didn’t mean you didn’t feel it, but it worked.
Up till now, that was.
It shouldn’t have made you upset. You knew most of your triggers and this hadn’t been one of them. At least, not that you were aware of. It was unusual. Why did it make you so upset? There was nothing more pathetic than becoming irrationally angry when someone was just talking with you!
Your hands left sticky, dirty tracks down your face over and over again. Pacing wasn’t helping, and you had nothing to throw or bite on or distract yourself with. You were simply left alone, taking the stairs up to the top of the tower where no one but your thoughts could find you.
Or so you thought.
The pool was empty, as predicted. You stood at the edge of the deeper end, looking down into the water. Death was left laying at the bottom, looking up at you with that skeletal grin. All the anger bubbling up in your throat evaporated. With clothes on, you let yourself fall into the water.
In the water, everything was manageable. The pain across your skin eased and the emotions - or lack thereof - vanished. Weightless, you could just exist. No thoughts, no fears, no anger. Just you and the water that surrounded you, enveloping you in a consoling, suffocating embrace.
Your lungs burned from the strain of holding your breath. With how little time you could stay underwater, you were left to assume you were never much of a swimmer. Deduction was becoming your best friend, and if you hadn’t been in the water, it would’ve made you mad. Borderline furious.
A warm hand gripped your bicep and yanked. Death reached out to you in a final gesture; your fingers brushed Hers before you erupted from the water. You laid on the edge of the pool, nothing more than gasps and heavy clothes.
“I’m always dragging you out of things,” Yelena’s voice forced itself through the water in your ears. “It’s becoming a bad habit of yours.”
Your breath still came out in gasps and shallow pants. The water of the pool was almost entirely settled, leaving little evidence that you had even been swallowed by it in the first place. You craved it, and the absence left you, unsurprisingly, angry.
“I know Valentina was boring but I didn’t think she was that bad.” Yelena stopped and thought. “By Valentina standards.”
Valentina. Her. Your fingers dug uselessly into the concrete surrounding the pool, leaving no mark except the blood that welled from the freshly grated skin. She had said that… that word, and hadn’t felt the least bit of remorse. She hadn’t cared! The woman was shameless!
“What was the final straw?” Yelena asked, letting herself practically drop to the ground beside you.
She looked wonderful in the dress she was wearing. Nothing flashy or overly vulnerable, but classy. It suited her, truly. You always enjoyed seeing her in such clothing, it was a wonderful break from what she wore on missions. That alone always set you on edge; you knew what could happen on missions.
“She,” you huffed. “She- she said- she called me a- a mutant.”
Yelena remained silent. Her knee rubbed against yours lightly.
“I’m not- I’m not a- why would she say that?” Death looked at you through the water, but you turned to face Yelena. “In front of all those people?”
“Does it bother you that bad?” She asked. “Bob is a mutant, no?”
“Why would she say that about me?” You asked quickly. “I’m not Bob, I’m not some- some mutant.”
She was right to keep her mouth shut. You felt a certain way about Yelena, and you would’ve hated to yell at her. It had only happened a handful of times and that was enough for you to feel the ghost of guilt. You were still haunted by the evening you threw your file at her. Not your best moment.
“Which part are you upset about?” She asked. “That she said it, or that she said it in front of people?”
“Both,” you said without giving yourself time to think of the proper answer.
“So instead of talking it out like we’re all practicing,” Yelena heavily emphasised, “you decided to come up here and drown?”
“Yes.” You looked down at the water and pulled your knees up. “No.”
You weren’t a mutant, of that you were fairly sure. Or, you weren’t sure at all, but it didn’t feel proper. No one really knew what you were, and that was okay, but Valentina was out there spewing her unfounded beliefs for the media and populace to hear.
It was such a small thing in the grand scheme of things. The anger was still there, lingering underneath the surface of the water, waiting to erupt. But Yelena had a point; the entire time was learning to talk about their feelings instead of hiding them. You weren’t part of the New Avengers, but you were part of the team in some way.
“We can work on it later,” Yelena said.
You reached over and grabbed her hand, linking your fingers between hers. Death looked at you through the glassy water; you were content to let her wait. Maybe Yelena could help you get rid of Her anger once and for all. Maybe there was another feeling leftover from your past; something other than anger.
Seventh, your eyes will be wrong. You’re the only one to notice. The irises were the wrong colour, and your vision was perfected. Seeing through different realms did that to the human body. No one will understand what it’s like to look at a stranger in the mirror.
The mirrors were covered; every single one. You only kept the mirrors in the medical wing left untouched seeing as the others found it unusual to keep them covered. They enjoyed seeing the scars left behind after their mighty battles. Or at least, Alexei enjoyed it. Everyone else seemed to look out of morbid curiosity.
There was nothing morbidly curious about what you saw in those mirrors. It was horrifying; it wasn’t right. You passed mirrors on occasion, mostly when you were out with Yelena and Ava. Standing in club bathrooms, trying to steady yourself by gripping the sink, focusing on the person in the mirror that was supposed to be you.
If you had lost all your memories, you wish you wouldn’t have been stuck with the overwhelming feeling of Other. You weren’t sure who you had been before but this all felt wrong. The hands gripping the sink were connected to your body, but they didn’t grip properly; they were weak and soft. Your clothes fit weird and your face… it was wrong.
You found yourself in that same bathroom now; looking at yourself in the cracked mirror of some rundown club that you hadn’t bothered learning the name of. On the glass were lipstick drawings, numbers, and sweet sayings that were honestly rather inspiring. There was something comforting about the homeliness of it all. Maybe you should start doing the same in the tower.
A group of girls stumbled into the bathroom, looking far more put together than they had any right to be. They looked stunning and just the right amount of disheveled. Yelena could manage looking that way and still looking good. Clearly it was a skill that you needed to improve upon.
“The sink isn’t gonna run away, honey,” said the lone girl who didn’t go into one of the stalls.
You instantly let go of the sink and stood there awkwardly.
“What’s got you so bummed in the club?” She asked. Her eyes narrowed, almost as if she was focusing. You knew she wasn’t; you could see it in her eyes how incredibly drunk she was. “Wait, you’re her!”
At the sound of yelling, all the other girls rushed to finish what they were doing and burst out of the stalls. You stood there like an animal in a zoo as they crowded around you, talking amongst themselves so quickly it made your head spin. More than it already was; a few more drinks and you’d be able to match their buzz.
“You’re with that blondie hottie,” one of the girls said.
They gave you no time to answer.
“What are you hiding in here for?”
“If that hottie was mine, you’d have to pry me off her with a crowbar.”
“Listen to me,” the first girl said. She held your face gently between her noticeably sticky hands. “That Yelena girl has been raving about you all night.” Something tumbled around in your stomach. “You’re going to go out there, and you’re going to kiss her.”
“I don’t think-”
“-You’re gonna kiss her so sloppy and so heavy that you’re both gonna go home and have the most bangin’ night of your life.”
Baffled, you could do nothing but smile. All the girls mumbled their agreements that yes, that was exactly what you were going to do, trust us. And honestly? You did. Why not? You couldn’t remember if you had any experience with the phenomenon, but you weren’t dumb; you knew drunk girls in club bathrooms were the most trustworthy people in the universe.
“Go,” the ring leader said softly. “Rock her world.”
She gave you a gentle, sticky kiss on the forehead before letting go and following the rest of her posse out of the bathroom. Well. That happened. You turned back to the sink and looked in the mirror, taking note of the lipstick mark that now stained your skin.
Would the person looking back at you be bold enough to kiss Yelena? You didn’t know; you weren’t entirely sure the original you would have done it either. Perhaps you would have, and it would’ve been wonderful. For now? You didn’t know this person’s limits, and you weren’t convinced you would be able to test them.
You sighed. This was humiliating.
“There you are.”
There was no point in seeing who had come into the bathroom; you would know that voice anywhere. Yelena was quick to lock the door and sidle up next to you, meeting your eyes through the mirror. Did she see the you who used to exist? Or did she also see the differences, take note of the things that were Other?
“Who kissed your head?” She asked, pushing aside any belief that she was thinking deeper. Why would she? She was out at the club having the time of her drunken life.
“Some girls came in and gave me some,” you hesitated and exhaled harshly, “life advice.”
“Was it any good?”
“Don’t know,” you answered.
The girls’ words echoed in your head, and you quickly turned to face Yelena. Even if she was drunk, you wouldn’t have known. She was masterful at her craft, hiding any sort of weakness even on a typical girls’ night out. But you could see a softness in her eyes, and that was vulnerability enough.
“They said some things that got me thinking,” you said. She raised her brow for you to continue. “There are rumours about us.”
“I know,” she commented as quickly as you had finished. “I spread them.”
“You did?” You asked.
“Yup,” she said, popping the “p” loudly. “I needed to get your attention somehow.”
“Liar,” you said, bumping her with your hip. Where that move had come from, you had no clue. “You’ve always got my attention.”
“Then quit hiding in the bathroom and come dance,” Yelena said.
She reached out and grabbed your hand. It wasn’t the first time she had held it; you both reached for the other like a lifeline. But her hands were painfully hot, and you didn’t mind. You liked the pain if it was coming from her.
You looked back in the mirror one last time, taking note of the differences. The colour of your eyes was wrong and you weren’t too keen on the shape of your mouth. But looking at your reflection standing next to Yelena… you fit. A smile teased the edges of your mouth and you allowed Yelena to pull you out of the bathroom.
Perhaps coming back from the dead would open the way for some rather new adventures. And maybe rediscover how to feel along the way.
Summary: Astrid hasn't visited her mother's old house in a while. She wonders if someone new has moved in by now. Maybe it'll be a "ghost," like her mother claims used to live there. Ha. She would be so lucky.
Word Count: 3.3k
Warnings: mentions of death, Tim Burton style tones
Pairing: Astrid Deetz x Reader
A/N: I know absolutely nothing about this movie, only the original, so I'm just gonna have some fun with it
Being a Deetz was one of the most irritating parts of life. At least, it was in Astrid’s opinion. Even without her own uncommon interests, she was held to the standards of her mother. Because her mother was weird, everyone assumed she was too. Which she was, but it wasn’t fair she couldn’t make that statement for herself.
She used to have a friend. You had been new to town and hadn’t known anything about her mother. It led to a wonderful friendship. Her favourite classes were the ones you had together, and eventually, she invited you over outside of school. Everyone thought you were crazy to agree, but you never faltered.
Even her mother and grandmother liked you, saying you were a “good kid.” Astrid knew better, you were trouble. Always in detention or being scolded by teachers in the hallways. You were anything but a good kid when it came to following the rules. But she wouldn’t deny, you definitely sweet talked your way into her mother’s and grandmother’s good graces.
You had done the same to her, pulling her in until she didn’t want to leave. The first kiss had been under the bleachers at a football game; disgustingly cliche. You had tasted of the cigarettes you stole from your mom. A disgusting taste, but it was good on you.
But as soon as she really started to like you - a little more than like, she would admit - you disappeared. You hadn’t been at school that morning, and when she went to your mom’s work, she had said she didn’t know where you were. Said it was no surprise you left; you could do better than this town.
That had been two years ago. Your mom had left town not long after your disappearance. Everyone assumed she had done something to you; a suspicion that came from the simple fact that your mom was, as the town called it, “trailer trash.” She was a nice person, Astrid had always liked her. She didn’t blame the woman for leaving.
Even Astrid had left for college once school was over. What else was she going to do, stay put? No, she wanted to get started somewhere else. Somewhere she wouldn’t be saddled with the name Deetz like it was some kind of curse. She loved her mother more than she would ever care to admit. But she wanted to do something for herself.
It was winter break before she came back home.
“Leaving already?” Her mother called from the porch when she grabbed her bike and started walking it to the street. “You haven’t even been here for three hours.”
“I’m going to check on the house,” Astrid said with a shrug. “I heard the owners moved out.”
“They did, thank god,” her grandmother said. “They did that house no justice.”
Bold coming from you, Astrid thought but kept her mouth shut.
“Don’t stay out too late,” her mother said.
“Lydia dear, when you were her age, you were almost marrying a ghost,” her grandmother said. “Consider it karma.”
“Mom,” her mother sighed.
Astrid had already hopped on her bike and started down the street. The path to the old house was well-worn; everyone knew it. The old owners had tried their best to convince everyone the house wasn’t haunted, but most of the town didn’t believe it. At least none of the school kids. They had jumped at the opportunity to have a haunted house in town whether it was real or not.
You had always liked that old house. No one had ever fully convinced you that ghosts had lived there, but you liked the thrill of it. I don’t think they’re real, but what if? You had asked one night after sneaking in through her window. We should check it out one day. After you disappeared, she had avoided the house like the plague.
But Astrid knew the path by heart. Snow had been plowed from the streets, and the dutiful citizens had shoveled the bridge. When she approached said bridge, she slowed until she could get off the bike, walking it across instead of riding. Her mother had made it clear that under no circumstances was she to ride or drive over the bridge. It was a silly rule; she followed it anyway.
The house was more run down than usual. It shouldn’t have upset her as much as it did. After all, it wasn’t like she had really ever lived in the house anyway. But it was still part of everything she had known growing up. To see it practically falling apart was… well, it was nothing short of devastating.
Without taking her eyes off of the house, she propped her bike up by its kickstand and slowly made her way to the front door. Step by step, each stair creaked under her weight. The house was a little creepy. Maybe it would be best if she just didn’t go in. After all, the door was practically falling off the hinge, if she actually knocked it would-
-the door swung inwards.
And you were standing there in the doorway with your eyes wide. You looked like you had seen a ghost.
“What are you doing here?” Astrid asked quietly.
You exhaled harshly, shoulders sagging with the movement.
“Want some tea?”
—---
Astrid looked as beautiful as the day you had left. Well, no, you hadn’t exactly left but… no, that was something you would face later. For the moment, you were going to enjoy seeing her again. It hadn’t been long, but she had grown into her own. Beautiful as always, too.
And way too quiet for your liking.
“Chamomile okay?” You asked when the kettle was near screaming.
She nodded once, not removing her eyes from you. It was unsettling; you had used to love it. Astrid wasn’t like normal girls, and not in the “too cool for school” kind of way. It was more of an “I’ll be me whether anyone likes it or not” kind of way. If she wanted to be weird and goth then she would and no one could stop her!
But you didn’t like how she was looking at you.
You placed the teabag in the mug and slid it in front of her. The kettle was only seconds away from screaming when you pulled it off the stove. No need to burst anyone’s eardrums. There was no point in being careful with the scalding water as you poured it into her mug.
“You disappeared,” Astrid said while you were mid-pour.
“About that,” you hummed.
“Does your mom know?” She continued. “That you’re right back where you started?”
Your mom. Momma. She had been left all alone after… how had she fared? Were the townspeople nice to her? They had better be, or you would personally bring hell to every single one of them.
“What does she think happened to me?” You asked as you turned around and placed the kettle back on the stove. You didn’t turn back around.
“What everyone else thinks,” Astrid said, “that you ran off.”
“Was she okay?”
“Honestly?” She asked. “She said she was glad you got out of this little town. Said you were too good for it anyway.”
Well that… that almost hurt worse than knowing she never knew the truth. Your momma hadn’t been perfect, but she had done the best with what she had. Time and time again, she had told you in her drunken stupor that you were destined for great things. You had always taken it to heart.
You need to tell her.
“Hey, Astrid?” You asked with a weak voice.
She hummed for you to continue.
“Remember in school when we would say we didn’t believe in ghosts?”
“Yeah, why?”
With a sigh, you turned to look over your shoulder. Astrid’s head was tilted slightly in that way you always found cute. It didn’t click just yet. She just kept looking at you, waiting for you to continue. You raised your brows at her. She was almost there, you could tell by the slight crinkle in her nose, and- ah, there it was.
“You’re joking,” she said.
You gave her your best tight-lipped “white person” smile but otherwise didn’t answer.
“You saw one?” She asked.
Oh. Oh, no, she didn’t get it.
“Well, yes,” you said, turning your full body so you could lean back against the stove and look at her, “but that’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are-” there it is “-oh.”
There was something in her eyes when realisation dawned. Her eyes, while a gorgeous dark brown, were usually so bright. So happy, even when she was trying to act like she didn’t care about the world around her. But this was different. Any brightness dimmed to practically nothing.
“How?” She asked.
You shrugged and looked away. “The football team pushed me off the bridge.”
It wasn’t a fond memory, that was for sure. The icy layer covering the river had been rather sharp. But even that hadn’t compared to the pain of inhaling freezing water deep into your lungs. From what you could remember, it was slow. A memory you didn’t enjoy having, but maybe one day it would go away.
“You were murdered?” Astrid asked incredulously; horrifically.
“I mean listen, it’s not too bad,” you attempted to play it off. “It got me out of taking winter finals, which we both know I would’ve failed.”
“But it’s-”
“-I know, Astrid,” you interrupted.
You liked Astrid. You would even go so far as to say you loved her, mostly probably. Were you young? Sure. A little stupid and naive? Absolutely. High school sweethearts? You would say so, yeah. But she instigated a little too much, and she wanted to know everything, but this just wasn’t really something you wanted to indulge her in. Not yet, anyway.
Astrid was quiet for a moment. The gears were turning in her head, you could practically smell the smoke coming off them. What was she thinking, you wondered. Was she dwelling on the fact that you had died, cold and slow and alone? You certainly hoped not, it wouldn’t change anything. You were dead, you were now a ghost, and long-distance relationships weren’t that hard any more thanks to technology, so you could both still make it work!
If she wanted, of course.
“I thought my mom said her ghosts were stuck in the house for, like, a century or something,” she said instead.
You laughed. That was much easier to answer. “I told their caseworker I’d take their place. You know, let them rest in peace, or whatever,” you waved your hands vaguely.
“Caseworker?”
“It’s a long story.”
“So you’re why the previous owners left?” She asked.
“Guilty as charged.” You wiggled your fingers in her direction and smiled.
For the first time all day, she smiled back. God, you missed her smile.
“If you really are a ghost,” she said with a tilt of her head, “how can you pick things up?”
“Ooh, we’re getting to the fun questions,” you said with a smile.
The look on Astrid’s face was perfect. Curious, distrusting. The best mix of emotions; you loved when she was uncertain. It was a more genuine look for her, instead of trying to act like she knew everything and always knew what to expect. Always made her look super cute, honestly.
You walked over to where she was sitting at the run-down table. She turned to keep facing you until you were standing directly in front of her. It was going to be a risk, but one you were very much willing to take. Worst case, you stay stuck in the stupid house forever. No different from your current predicament.
“Took me a few months to really get the hang of it,” you said. Her eyes sparkled again. “You just focus on what you want to touch,” she blushed, “and voila.”
Her blush vanished when you picked up the mug beside her. What you really wanted to do was touch her. Gods, you wanted to know if you could still feel her warmth, the softness of her skin. But it wasn’t time. No, she was probably still worried about the fact that you had… well, you know. Died.
“It took you months to figure out how to do that?” She asked with a cheeky smile.
“Shut up,” you huffed, placing the mug back on the table. “It wasn’t like I had much to work with.”
“Why didn’t you ask my mom’s old friends how to do it?” Astrid asked before leaning back against the table. “I’m sure they would’ve helped you.”
“Never actually had the pleasure of meeting them,” you said with a shrug. “I only got to meet the other guy.”
“The other guy?” She asked, looking away in thought for a moment before looking back at you. “Oh, you mean Beetlegeu-”
-you slapped your hand over her mouth before she could continue.
“Don’t say it,” you whispered.
She nodded once, and you pulled your hand away.
“Was he really that awful?” She asked, matching your tone.
“He was that annoying,” you grumbled. “God, I swore the guy would never shut up.”
Astrid did her little crooked smile and laugh. The one that you would always try your best to force out of her during class to get her in trouble. Wait, that sounded bad. You didn’t want her to get in trouble, you just would have enjoyed her presence in detention. With you.
“So what else did you take two years to learn?” Astrid asked. She leaned forward until she was so close you could smell her shampoo. “Anything exciting?”
Wait. Wait, this could be your chance. You might be able to do something about it, this could be your shot. Two years in limbo, sitting in a run down house that did nothing but remind you of Astrid with everything you saw. It was her family’s house. You couldn’t leave her even if you had wanted to.
“Well,” you said, “there is something I’ve been wanting to test out.” You looked up to meet her eyes. “May I?”
“Let’s see what you got, ghosty,” she said.
You nodded to yourself and focused. Focused on her body, more specifically her face. Her stunning, beautiful, gorgeous, smiling face. Day after day, you had been thinking of her, and you had hoped time and time again that somehow she would come back to the house.
One deep inhale, hold your breath. Your hands were shaking so badly you would have dropped everything had you been holding something in the first place. And yet, Astrid didn’t budge when you lifted your hands and placed them on either side of her face. Exhale.
Her body was absent of warmth. Astrid had never been an exceptionally warm individual to begin with but this was… different. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell her that you couldn’t feel her. Sure, you could touch things, but you couldn’t feel any of it. It wasn’t something you could describe, except calling it surreal.
“May I?” You asked again.
You could feel her breath on your lips even as she nodded. It was all you needed to pull her into a kiss. There was still no warmth, but there was a… a comfort in it. In feeling her lips against yours again after so long. To feel her breath mix with yours, replacing everything you didn’t need but you so desperately craved.
Her hands attempted to settle on your hips but fell straight through. In turn, you felt her shoulders sag as she placed her hands on your knees instead. That was… not a nice feeling. Maybe you could learn to focus enough to let her feel you back. That was possible, right? Surely it was.
You pulled away slowly. If you could have stayed kissing her for the rest of your century in that hellhole, you would have. But unfortunately, Astrid still had to breathe, and you had to give her the space to do it. Earlier you had questioned if you had really loved her or if it was a puppy love?
Oh no. It was the real deal.
“You can’t leave at all?” Astrid asked. “Not even for an hour or so?”
“You mean the haunted house isn’t romantic?” You teased.
“What do you even do in here all day every day?” She asked.
Once again, she reached out to touch you. Somewhere, anyway. You looked down at where she was attempting to hold your hand. Maybe if you could focus really hard, it would work. As far as you knew, you couldn’t materialise. At least, you didn’t think you could. But if you really concentrated.
Her fingers slipped between yours and, for the first time in two years, you felt her squeeze your hand. Physical touch. Real physical touch.
“I, ah,” you stammered, looking down at where she was still holding your hand. “It’s in my contract to scare people.”
“Contract?” She asked. Your arm moved as she pulled you closer. Okay, maybe physical touch was a bit unfamiliar to you after so long, you would need to get used to it again.
“My caseworker says I have a quota to meet,” you said, finally looking back up to meet her eyes. “So many people each quarter, you know?”
“So you need people to scare?” She asked. “On a regular basis.”
There was a sparkle in her eye. Something dangerous; scandalous.
“You have something in mind?” You asked with a tilt of your head.
Her smile was vicious. And attractive.
—---
The house looked beautiful in the daylight. The paint was fresh, the inside was cosy, and when nighttime fell? Rumour had it the ghosts came out to play. That was why most people rented out the house; their own private haunting for a night. The listing said if you could survive the night, the stay was free. So far, no one had lasted long enough to even give it a good shot.
And as you stood at the end of the bed watching the young couple sprint down the stairs screaming, you knew they wouldn’t be the winners either.
You walked over to the window and watched as they threw their singular bag into their car and peeled out of the dirt driveway. It hadn’t even been any fun, they hadn’t given you any time to actually scare them. Hell, all you had done was stand at the bed! You hadn’t made any faces, hadn’t pulled any jumpscares, you had simply stood there.
Were you really that scary?
“Gone already?” Astrid asked in a sleepy voice as she walked to stand beside you at the window.
“Didn’t even stay long enough for me to have any fun,” you pouted.
“Well, you’ve hit your quota,” she said. She grabbed your arm and pulled it over her shoulder before tucking closer to your body. After a few months, you were finally starting to feel a bit of warmth from her.
At least, you thought you did.
“Your mom is coming by in the morning?” You asked.
She hummed her confirmation.
“Maybe I can try to scare her, then,” you said.
Astrid pulled you away from the window and started walking you toward your shared bedroom. Not that you really needed the sleep, but it was nice to be able to lay next to her. It was exhausting to keep a more physical form, but for her? You would do it all day every day.
“Good luck scaring her,” Astrid said as she pulled you onto the bed. “She practically grew up with ghosts.”
“I’ll scare your grandmother then,” you said softly, but she didn’t move.
Astrid was already asleep in your arms, just like you had always imagined. Maybe being dead really wasn’t as awful as everyone had always made it seem. After all, it got you your dream girl.
I'm not back for good but I needed yall to know that THIS BITCH @hopingforromanoff got COVID and is now living here rent free, threatening me with covid, for an EXTRA WEEK
I’m getting pretty close to 1k, so I just wanted to get on here and say thank you to every one of you, and I plan on doing something when I hit 1k, I just haven’t decided what I want to do yet, but something is coming!
Summary: Game night awakens something in Kate she never expected.
Pairing: Kate Bishop x reader
Warnings: smut, 18+, minors DNI
Word count: 3.5 K
Read on AO3
Author's note: This took me longer than I expected, but here it is. Thank you all again for the comments, likes, and reblogs, y'all make me want to write more often. midnight love by girl in red on repeat for this one, because we are gay and we love it. Let me know what you think!!
Despite your busy schedules, you and your friends had agreed to always make time for your most sacred friendship tradition, game night. Yelena would always cook dinner, shooing you all out of the kitchen–her sanctuary, as she called it–whenever anyone offered to help. America was usually in charge of the board games, which had accumulated since she started the tradition with you back when you were in high school. Peter picked out the snacks, Kate brought the drinks and you made the necessary songs for the occasion, Taylor Swift’s “…Ready for it?” at the top every time, only for that one line in the hook.
Now his official girlfriend, Peter had brought MJ along, and they were deeply enthralled in an intense Battleship round with America while Yelena worked on her new recipe for the creamy Tuscan chicken she was cooking for the evening. You were sandwiched on the couch between Kate, her dog Lucky, and Fanny, Yelena’s dog. Lucky was sitting across Kate’s lap with his head on one of your legs, wagging his tail happily while you scratched behind his ears. Fanny laid her head on your other leg, the rest of her body sprawled on the couch, softly snoring. As for Kate, she had her head on your shoulder, her eyes focused on the mindless scrolling on her phone, trying to pretend she didn't have her other hand on your thigh, her fingers inching closer to the space between your legs like you were not sitting in her best friend’s couch.
"Stop it," you mumbled under your breath, trying to remain as still as possible. "Not in front of the dogs."
"What are you talking about?" Kate inquired, the picture of innocence if it wasn’t for the knowing half-smile on her lips, not even bothering to look up from her phone. "I'm just liking posts on Instagram, Y/N."
You huffed in feigned annoyance, and she fully smiled, dragging her nails across your thigh before finally moving her hand, a soft whimper almost leaving your lips. You exhaled heavily to drown it and Kate licked her lips, clearly aware of the effect of her actions.
Your agreement with Kate was probably one of the best things you had ever agreed to. It was all the fun and none of the complications, which was quite refreshing after years spent in a whirlwind of a relationship. Kate was fun, adventurous, completely unafraid to push limits yet caring enough to only give what you took willingly. You felt comfortable with her, in a way that you had never felt with anybody else before. It had been easy to let your guard down, forgo sleep on some nights after sex to confide your deepest hopes and dreams in her, a far cry from where this whole thing had started. Used to keeping her cards close to her chest for most of her life, Kate took a bit more time to get there, but the more time you two spent together, the more she unraveled. You were at a point in your relationship where sometimes all it took was one look, one touch, one gesture, to know exactly what the other needed.
"B5."
Completely unaware of your secret exchange with Kate, Peter scratched his chin and squinted his eyes, the crease between his brows prominent in concentration. MJ mirrored him, whispering something in his ear to help him with his strategy from time to time. Across from them, America eyed them attentively, a haughty look on her face that suggested she had figured out their every move, making the couple nervous.
"Ha! Another miss," America exclaimed triumphantly, making Peter and MJ groan. "You're so gonna lose, guys."
A bellow of laughter was heard in the kitchen, catching everyone’s attention. The wooden shutters on the half-wall that separated the kitchen from the rest of Yelena’s apartment were folded back, and you could see Yelena continuing to chop vegetables with an amused smile on her face as she said, "Careful, Mer, last time we played Battleship, Peter almost flipped over the table when he lost."
MJ gaped at him, so very entertained by this new information. “You’re joking.”
"I did not," Peter said at the same time, pursing his lips, unable to hide the pink hue covering his cheeks.
"Yeah, you did," You interjected, earning a glare for Peter. You ignored him, your attention on MJ. "He got so mad he almost threw the whole game out the window."
MJ cackled. “Somehow, I believe that.”
America clicked her tongue, amused. "Damn, Pete, that’s some next-level shit. I’d expect that from Kate, not you.”
“Hey! I heard that!” Kate scowled, and America stuck her tongue out at her. You threw your head back, laughing.
“Now, now, let's not give the state champion over there fuel to beat our asses, we need to humble her," Yelena declared, throwing her ingredients into a pot. “She was unbearable last time she won at Monopoly."
“I don’t know, I like my chances tonight,” America shrugged, a teasing tone in her voice. “If rumors are to be believed, Kate is gonna let me win because she's just so happy jumping my best friend's bones.”
Peter and MJ couldn’t help the snort that escaped them, and you could hear Yelena trying to disguise her chuckles by pulling out dishware from the top cabinets of her kitchen. You immediately tensed up, a feeling of warmth crawling up from your neck to your face.
Tournament season had begun and, as expected, Kate was at her very best, breaking her own school records in the process. In years past, the archer had been known to be at her most active after competitions, basking in the endless attention she'd get from the girls that would only show up to see her, but this time around, the first thing Kate would do after getting her picture taken for the trophy cases was heading your way to wrap you in a tight hug, words of praise immediately coming out of your mouth between giggles. Yelena, Peter, and America would hype up her accomplishments immediately after but unfortunately for you, people noticed the change.
Soon enough, rumors started floating around campus that Kate Bishop had finally fallen and, out of all people, you were the lucky gal to steal her heart. Their words, not yours.
Obviously, your friends loved to tease you about it, especially when you were in public. They would behave like five-year-olds, making kissing sounds and humming the melody to Careless Whisper whenever you and Kate arrived together anywhere, cracking up when you told them to knock it off with a blush on your face.
"And why would I let you win? In any case, I'd let Y/N win," Kate responded, completely unbothered. "Not that she needs me to."
"Ooh, rooting for the girlfriend. I like this Kate Bishop," Yelena snickered walking into the dining area, a stack of dishes and silverware on top of it in her hands. "Truly a step up from Carter, Y/N, well done."
Kate found the whole situation amusing. She used it as an excuse to keep her hands on you in public, claiming she was just messing with the masses when asked about it, and although the multitude of prying eyes made you uncomfortable, you couldn’t say you didn’t like walking down the school grounds with Kate’s hand on your lower back. You really couldn’t say that you didn’t have a stupid dopey grin on your face for the rest of the day whenever Kate kissed the corner of your mouth as a goodbye when dropping you off for class.
"Who's Carter?" MJ asked, genuinely curious, and you groaned, already dreading what was coming.
Yelena whistled, leaving the dishware on the table. “How much time do you have?”
Peter huffed out a laugh. "Sharon Carter, Y/N's ex. They dated on and off for two years."
"And she was the worst, MJ." America's eyes glistened, delighted to have an opportunity to do what she did best–shit-talk her best friend's crappy ex. "She was always hot and cold with Y/N, the most charming person on Earth one moment and a total bitch the other. An absolute nightmare."
That sparked a furious rant you had listened to more times than you cared to count on the many reasons to avoid Sharon Carter at all costs, all three of your friends taking turns giving MJ the full picture of how bad things have gotten between you and your ex. From Sharon forgetting your birthday to unfounded accusations that you were flirting with other people and full-blown dramas in restaurants, listening to your friends spew fiery words of hatred towards someone you had once thought to be the one made your stomach drop. The only one that seemed to be entirely uninterested in the subject was Kate, who had gotten up from her seat as soon as Sharon’s name was mentioned. She set up the table for dinner and disappeared into the kitchen when she was done, the sound of the refrigerator door opening and closing a couple of times the only indication she was still there. You just stayed where you were, ready to sink and disappear right into your seat.
"Yeah, I don't think she liked us very much," Peter pointed out after a while, grimacing. "We invited her to game night one time and she definitely didn't have fun at all."
"Oh, yeah, I remember!" Yelena exclaimed. "We played Jenga that day, she pushed the tower and made it fall because Kate was gonna win."
"And then refused to play Pictionary, claiming the game was dumb," America added, rolling her eyes. "That woman has a stick so far up her ass I'm surprised she can walk."
"Okay, I'm sure MJ got the picture," you finally interjected, covering your eyes with your hands, sounding slightly irritated. "Thank you very much."
"I'm so sorry you had to go through all that, Y/N, that must have sucked," MJ lamented with a comforting tone in her voice. "I don't know how you did it."
"A question we asked ourselves every day!" Peter spouted.
America turned to you, eyebrows up to her forehead. "How did you stay with her for so long?"
You opened your mouth to respond, but Yelena was faster. "She must have been really good in bed," She suggested nonchalantly. "Otherwise, I truly don't understand it."
“Now that you mention it, I think I have heard stories about her. My friend Ned and I share a class with these dudes, Steve and James, and they’re always talking about a Sharon.” MJ added.
"Oooh, it totally makes sense, I did hear Y/N and Carter once or twice and–"
"Okay, enough." Kate emerged back from the kitchen, her voice sharp and loud, making America immediately shut up. The rest of them looked as if they had just gotten scolded by their parents. The expression on her face was unreadable, her eyes defiant and a darker shade of blue. "Let’s eat, shall we? I’m starving."
The subject was dropped, and the night carried on without a hitch. MJ fitted right in with your group, and Peter was so happy about it that he didn’t care how many games he lost to America. Yelena, on the other hand, did care about losing and she was on a mission to best America on something before the night ended. All four of them were laughing and screaming so much that they didn’t notice the change in Kate’s attitude, who was uncharacteristically quiet. The brunette only spoke when spoken to, laughed half-heartedly when everyone else did, and peeled the label off every beer bottle she drank with her nails. You sat next to her, placed your hand on her thigh multiple times to make her look at you, and silently questioned her about it. She would only respond with an almost imperceptible shake of her head.
You could not ignore the feeling that something was wrong, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss whatever was bothering Kate away.
But she wasn't your girlfriend, and even if you had gotten close, that would probably be crossing boundaries. What you had was casual, and if she didn't want to share what was troubling her, that was fine.
Even if you couldn't think of anything else for the rest of the night.
~~~
After her husband's death, Eleanor Bishop spent a lot of time shutting down romantic propositions from wealthy men that genuinely only wanted to get their hands on Bishop Security. Love is a distraction, Eleanor would say, and I am far too busy for any of those. Kate heard her mother say that exact phrase more times than she could count as a child and, at some point, she started believing it, too.
Truthfully, up to that point, she never felt like she was missing out on anything. Her life had been perfectly fine without it. She had seen what love did to people, how it stripped them of all rationality and made it so easy to give others the power to break you. Kate had consoled enough broken hearts, lost enough friends to jealousy, and watched enough relationships crash and burn to know it wasn't worth the effort.
Needless to say, it caught Kate by surprise when she felt like something was pressing on her chest the moment Sharon Carter's name was mentioned and she saw the pained expression on your face. As if it still mattered, as if the words Peter, America, and Yelena were saying about your ex still hurt you.
Kate hated the way that knowledge made her feel. She wanted to leave right then and there, to escape that feeling that moved to the pit of her stomach and was expanding all through her body.
She couldn't quite pinpoint what it was but the feeling was big, powerful, with sharp teeth tearing up her insides and demanding all of her attention. Her mind was going a thousand miles per hour, every single thing you had ever told her about Sharon running through it, how you still loved her, how you still lamented how things had ended between you. Then, Yelena had to add fuel to that fire by making that comment, what you said about Sharon having skills burning in the back of her mind, and as irrational as it was, she saw red, because Sharon never deserved you, and she wanted nothing else but to make you forget your ex. Kate wanted nothing but you to want her.
And that was the first time she admitted it to herself.
Panic settled quite fast. A voice inside her head–one that sounded an awful lot like her mother–started screaming at her to run away, call it quits with you while she still could without ruining your friendship but she knew it was a bit too late for that. Your concern didn't help her, and neither did the comforting touch of your hand on her thigh. She didn't know what to do, so she pretended everything was fine.
Peter and MJ left first, clearly wanting to spend time alone together before calling it a night. They left holding hands, looking at one another like they were each other's worlds, and Kate's chest twinged because, for the first time in her life, she wanted that. And she hated how it came crashing on her just like that.
Yelena convinced you and America to sleep over, saying something about being long overdue for a girls' night. Kate originally said no, wanting nothing more but to go to bed and sleep off that intrusive sensation she couldn't shake but Yelena and America were not taking a no for an answer. After Kate agreed to stay, Yelena and America disappeared behind the door of Yelena's bedroom to get sleepover supplies and get changed into something more comfortable, and Kate quickly took that as her opportunity to slip into the kitchen and gather herself.
But you didn’t give her the chance. Kate was leaning against the kitchen counter, a beer bottle between her fingertips, clearly lost in her thoughts when you walked up to her. You placed your hands on her hip and she flinched at your touch, her gaze falling into yours.
You looked at her the same way you did that first night you slept together. Full of wonder, confusion, anxiety. Full of tenderness. And she knew she was doomed.
"Are you okay, Katie?" You asked her, and Kate told herself she should have known the effect you had on her the moment she let you call her that. She hated when anyone else did, but your voice dripped with honey every time you said it, and it felt safe in your mouth. "You've been awfully quiet tonight."
"Yeah, I'm just tired, I guess," Kate lied with a tight-lipped smile you saw right through. "We didn't get much sleep last night."
You nodded, and she could tell you didn't buy it. But what was she going to say to you? I just realized I want more of you?
"Are you sure it's just that?" You tried again, taking the bottle off her hands and putting it on the counter. You rested your hand on her cheek right after, the coldness of the bottle that lingered on your fingers making her shiver. Or maybe it just was your touch, Kate wasn't sure. "You can tell me anything."
You were pulling her towards you and, just like that very first time, she was too weak to not let you. Your breath was on her mouth, soft and warm, and she closed the gap between you, her entire body immediately on fire when your lips were on hers. Kate instinctively parted her mouth open, and your tongue brushed her lips, letting you take the lead. She placed her hands on your waist and flushed your bodies together, the feeling of pressure on her chest disappearing instantly, replaced with electric waves through every single one of her bones. You let out a quiet moan that Kate felt in the deepest part of her core, her mouth immediately leaving yours and settling on the skin of your neck. You bit on your lip, trying to conceal the overcoming desire Kate was filling you with. Her hands slipped under your shirt lightly scratching at your stomach, and her lips returned to yours to drown the mewl threatening to come out from the back of your throat with her tongue.
Her fingers moved further down and undid the button of your jeans, slipping inside your underwear and between your folds immediately. You gasped, not expecting for Kate to do that when your respective best friends could catch you but while she pressed you against the kitchen counter and made hurried circles on your clit, you couldn't seem to care.
"I'm gonna need you to be real quiet, baby girl," Kate whispered against your skin, leaving a trail of kisses from your cheek to your jaw and back to your neck. "Can you do that for me?"
You nodded frantically, the thrill of getting caught already pushing you closer to the edge. Kate rapidly sunk two fingers inside you, her thumb continuing to give attention to your clit.
"Fuck, Kate," You grumbled quietly, holding onto her hair for some stability. "Don't stop."
You didn't have much time and Kate knew it. Her fingers thrust in and out of you ruthlessly and you bit on your bottom lip so hard that pink skin turned white. A third finger entered you, the coil feeling in your stomach tightening, the stretch and rhythm making your head spin. She stopped kissing every inch of exposed skin she found to face you, committing to memory every single one of your features as you tried as hard as you could to contain yourself.
"Y/N, look at me," Kate muttered. "I wanna see you come undone."
Your eyes fluttered open, and the look in the ocean of her eyes tipped you over the edge. You whimpered softly, your legs turning to jelly, and the pleasure flooded you. Kate wrapped her arm around you, holding your weight for you, and pressed her forehead against yours. She kissed you again, murmuring a soft I got you against your mouth, repeated again and again until your ragged breathing returned to normal. When you finally could, you kissed her back.
And you kissed her so gently, so sweetly, that everything became clear to Kate.
And It was an unnerving revelation. Scary and unfamiliar, against everything she had ever known. So overwhelming that breathing suddenly felt more difficult.
The swinging of a door opening broke the silence, quickly followed by the joyful voices of your respective best friends coming out of Yelena's room. You quickly pulled Kate's hands out of your pants and fixed your clothes, taking several backward steps away from her. Your need to maintain what you had as a secret made Kate's chest hurt again, regardless of being what you both had agreed to. You gave her a smile that clearly said this isn't over, before walking away and pretending nothing had happened.
Kate took a big, deep breath, and felt the full weight of her brand new feelings, of the distraction she avoided all her life, in every inch of her skin.
