#lifeasitis21

[lifeasitis21]

Baby Boy or Bastard Boy?

Baby Boy 🧸

Bastard Boy 🔪

Voting ended onMar 1, 2023

[asiansiren]

What are your thoughts on the woman messaging first? Is that off limits? I’ve always thought it tilts the scale the wrong way from the beginning but is there a way to do it that keeps the balance?

No, the act itself of the woman messaging first does not put you, the woman, at a disadvantage.

I am assuming here that you are looking for something substantial with someone who you see potential in (e.g. not simply sex, or to be used for emotional and mental labor), but you are unsure of how precisely to approach.

I think it’s important to consider precisely what your character is and whether or not you’re portraying yourself with authenticity.

For instance, are you naturally extroverted or welcoming?

Is it your instinct to introduce yourself first in a social situation, or are you more inclined to wait for other people to approach you first... and if so, is that out of habit, anxiety, or are you genuinely inclined towards introversion?

Do you find yourself being limited by social expectations of how a woman “should” behave - or do you genuinely feel as though those rules apply to you?

Analyze yourself and see where you are holding yourself back out of social stigma and inhibition and what is your genuine nature. The more authentic and true to yourself you are, the better the outcome.

I find in many scenarios, making a first move may be a power move because it comes across as unexpected. It’s against the norm. Many women who are expressive and open with their thoughts and emotions thereby limit themselves because they hear rhetoric saying they need to portray themselves in a certain way. Whether this is in the field of sex work or not.

I would say, if you feel as though it is pertinent, go ahead and make a first move but don’t attach any significance to it. Be fully confident. Don’t attach any feelings or meaning to it. Just see how it goes, and if the response is positive and welcoming towards you - with genuine thought, see whether you can translate this into something more.

If nothing comes out of it, there is no harm and no loss. Cut your attachment and move on to someone who demonstrates their appreciation for you appropriately.

[lifeasitis21]

“Will you just, hold my hand?”

As he spoke his fingers curled open, a twitch, as he glanced over at you.

You were older now. You both were. His hands were..different than you remembered. Now, you stared down at them as if they were things. Not your place of safety, your place of home. No longer beings which held the touch that could illuminate your entire soul. All the freckles were still there though.

His question still wavering in the brisk night air, you let out the breath at the top of your chest and placed your hand in his with a bluntness unfamiliar to you both.

You tell me how it felt. You were sitting next to a person you had bared all to. Someone you knew better than so many versions of yourself. Now, you sat next to him, your hand in his, and it felt—rather, you felt…a deep gut-wrenching sense of longing in your chest. Right at the center, like any breath you took could never be deep enough.

“I don’t want to say what went wrong. I want to leave it up in the air and far far away from where we are now. Where my heart is now. A place where it doesn't hurt as long as I don't think about it.” Is what you would have said— if if if…but it wasn’t why you were here now.

“If its not you—“ he started.

You finished effortlessly. It’s no one.

This didn’t comfort you. In truth it never had. For it to mean something meant you and him were no longer together, and beyond that, it would mean you finding solace in the idea of him never finding someone like you.

This wasn’t you. What you wanted? Maybe. What you wished for on those nights cradling your body to his back, before it all went left. Maybe. But looking down at your hand in his now, as foreign as it was, never.

Something different then.

“It wasn’t perfect. But I feel—I think that we could have figured it out.” He smiled into his words, into your eyes as what he said finally sparked something in you.

“When I’m next to you, I see it. I want to go home.” He could hear the pain in your voice and knew this wasn’t a request.

“I want to be held by you. I want to cry into your shirt. I want to feel your palm against the nape of my neck. But for now..right now..” You placed your other hand over his, “…for now, I want to sit here next to you and listen to you breathe.”

It looked so still at this time of morning. Barely a ripple. It was light but the sun wouldn’t be up for an hour or two.

He had fought it as long as he could but his eyes started to fall as the warm sea breeze drifted in. Both wrapped in a blanket, shoulder to shoulder, his head rested against your shoulder.

In this moment you thought to yourself, does it really get better than this?

Sure. Love is everywhere and in everything. But what if this love—this love was all you wanted. Not good enough, not better than, but all you could ever want.

As your back rest against the only home you had ever known to be made with love, it may have dawned on you that this was what unconditional meant.

It wasn’t a lack of accountability, or a lack of acknowledgment, but instead, a rush of all the love in your body finally finding a place to breathe.

This, you couldn’t leave. He had found you just as life began to brighten, and you would be damned if he wasn’t there as the sun came up today.

Falling from his slumber, he stirred next to you, earnestly seeking your eyes.

“Shsh.” You whispered, fingers lining his jaw—a thing so easily willing itself into your touch—“just hold my hand. I will be here when you wake up.”

Tag List: @jaderbugz @a-girl-who-loves-disney @chillnadia @posiemax @sam  @smexy-bucky-waifu @maragaretcarter @omg-fuck-i-love-you you @peachlar @thebutterflyxd x  @loviee143-blog @ign-is is @wisdombeyondheryears-blog @maxtothemoff  @princess-of-the-fandoms @marvelouslyme96  @witchywrter @manofsteel7712 @d0ntjudgemy50shades @henrycavillworld

[lifeasitis21]

Henry Cavill/Clark Kent Masterlist

Not only has my master list been updated, but part 9 of For The Last Time will be posted tonight! Don’t miss out, and I can’t wait to hear your feedback!

Leave any reactions or questions in the comments of FTLT Part 9 and I’ll be sure to answer!

[lifeasitis21]

It’s almost time for Part 6 of For The Last Time!! I can’t wait for you to read it so check back later today and let me know what you think! Parts 1-5 can be found on my Clark Kent/Henry Cavill masterlist.

[lifeasitis21]

FTLT Mid-Series Break!!

I hope you’ve been enjoying my series, For The Last Time! I’m having a great time writing it and there is much more to come. But for now, consider this a mid-series break. 

Check my master list for the full series and much more. I really appreciate all of your wonderful comments, and would love to hear more! So thank you!

Chapter 8 will be posted August 3rd so don’t miss out!

[lifeasitis21]

Meant To Be (Part 2)

Pairing: Pietro x Reader

Summary: Part 2 of my story Meant to Be. Part One here. And for those of you waiting for this, thank you for your patience! I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Injuries

Blood was dripping down your forearms, comms were down. All you could hear was static.

You could feel yourself fading, first would be the dull pounding headache, then the blurry vision. You were losing blood, and quick.

“Fucking bastard.” You spit through gritted teeth, holding one hand to your torn abdomen and another to the wall to steady yourself.

Just a couple more feet and you’d be out, you could see the moonlight seeping through a crack in the door at the end of the hallway.

10 feet. 5 feet away now. The room was spinning. Warm blood now trailed down your thigh. Leaving puddles of it in your wake.

Your arm weakly reached out towards the handle, 2 feet away.

In front of the door now he stood. Like a prison wall between you and life.

Your legs had given out by now. On your knees, you looked down at the hole in your stomach, the blood staining your hands.

You looked up into familiar eyes. They were filled with love. It made you sick.

“Let me out.”

Your plea was met by silence.

“Let me—“ you muttered weakly. “Le’me out you son of a bitch. You son of a bitch! You did this let me out!”

You screamed it with all the strength you had left. The sounds of pain and agony intertwining themselves within your blood curdling scream.

You jolted up, the echo of your own scream fading in your mind as you clutched the sheets around you.

Your head was damp with sweat.

It took you a moment to recognize your surroundings as your eyes adjusted to the darkness.

“I’m okay.” You whispered, chest still slowly rising up and down. “I’m okay.”

It was early, probably around 5. That was when you usually woke up after a nightmare. And no matter how many times you tried you could never fall back asleep.

Whenever you were overseas and this happened, you would jog to the nearest beach, or into the deepest forest you could find. But here, the only escape was to succumb to the noise inside a city that never slept.

You rolled out of bed and threw on some jeans. Now that your identity wasn’t hidden, you felt that you had to be on edge. You hated that, but you were used to it.

You pulled a beanie as low onto your head as you could and left the loft.

This part of town was actually pretty quiet so early in the morning.

You had to go to the tower sometime today anyway and it was only about a 30 minute walk.

You just hoped someone would be awake, as to avoid awkwardly waiting in the living room until someone showed up.

The security guard saw you approaching and ran to open up the door for you. He seemed to have taken a liking to you since you showed up. He was an older guy, maybe in his 40’s.

“Good morning Frank. How are you?”

You smiled and tugged at your beanie. Fiddling with the fabric as he greeted you.

“It’s pretty early Y/n. I didnt expect to see anyone.” He said, convincing you that he was emotionally invested in whatever your answer would be.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

That was enough for him. You were a person of few words, and he understood that you didn’t mean any offense by it.

“You have a great day then miss Y/n.”

You got off the elevator on the fitness level. Maybe if you got your blood pumping, it would tire you out enough to pull your mind from that stupid nightmare.

At Clint’s suggestion, you’d left a bag with some clothes and toiletries in one of the lockers. If you ever needed to crash here you could, but for now you changed into some workout clothes and put in some headphones.

The gym was empty, only lit by the early rising sun. You kept the lights off and headed for the punching bags. It always felt good to release a little tension by beating the crap out of something that couldn’t fight back.

It had been a couple minutes and you were beginning to lose yourself. Which is what you’d hoped would happen.

A few yards behind you entered Pietro, he wanted to get in his workout for the day before the gym got crowded. But to his pleasant surprise he saw you across the room. Your back was to him, and he could see the wires of your headphones swaying back and forth as you moved around the bag.

In the blink of an eye he was standing right behind you. Unwisely, he placed a tentative hand to your shoulder. It took you no time at all to grab said hand and pull it down over your shoulder, followed by his entire body.

He landed on his back in front of you with a thud.

“Jesus christ. Pietro, what the fuck?!” You shouted.

“Ugh, la dracu pe mine.” Pietro took a moment before standing up. “Good morning to you too Y/n.”

That brought a smile to your face, you bent down and grabbed his arm to help him up.

“I’m sorry about that. You–just surprised me.”

A grin formed on his lips. “If that’s you surprised, I don’t want to see you angry.”

You returned to your bag and threw a couple more punches, expecting him to walk away and do his own thing, he didn’t.

“So, what are you doing here so early? I know you didn’t sleep here,” You shot him a sideways glance as he continued. “So you must have come from your home.” 

He waited patiently, like a child waited for a present on his birthday. 

“Sometimes I like to work out. Get some of my energy out when I can’t sleep as well.”

“Who said I couldn’t sleep?” You said, jabbing a few more times. 

“Well, excuse my assumption frumoasa, but if you could sleep, wouldn’t you be sleeping?”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little, finally taking the bait and giving him your full attention. 

“I go back to sleep, just happens sometimes. And when It does, the only thing I can do is go somewhere or do something, so I came here.” You rested one of your arms around the bag and watched him watching you. You found the way he looked at you strange. Most looked at you like a puzzle. Minds buzzing to try and figure you out. You hated that. But Pietro, he looked at you like a painting hung in a museum. Something that was in and of itself complete and whole. He was just a bystander lucky enough to see it with his own eyes.

A jingle began to play in your headphones, it caught you off guard and you jumped a little. Your phone had begun to ring, when you pulled it out a silly picture of Clint with his tongue sticking out popped up on your screen.

You glanced up at Pietro before taking a few steps away and answering.

“Hey.”

“Y/n hey.” He sounded in a rush, “How fast can you get here? I need your help.”

“Well here as in the tower? I’m already here. Downstairs.”

Pietro felt a little out of place listening in on your conversation, but as you’d turned to talk, he couldn’t help but notice how much your workout gear was doing for your curvy figure.

He stopped himself, of course…But every time he did he couldn’t help but glance again. One thing he couldn’t risk was you catching him. After strike one with that young recruit, he didn’t want you thinking he was a jerk. Did he find it easy to seduce women, yes. Did he flirt with them often, yes. But he didn’t want you to know that. And maybe that meant something.

“Uh, Yeah. Okay I’m my way up.” You turned to Pietro, who seemed to be very interested in something on the top of his shoe and said, “Clint needs my help upstairs, says he’s in over his head? Do you know what that’s about?”

“In over his head?” His head tilted to the side ever so slightly. His accent did something to you, you couldn’t deny it. You loved hearing him talk. “It may have something to do with him agreeing to host some national leaders for dinner tonight, promising they would enjoy a home cooked meal, and then forgetting he doesn’t know how to cook.”

Sounded like Clint.

“We better go then.” You said as you turned. You hadn’t even thought before you simply expected Pietro to join you, but he didn’t say a word about it, just followed close behind you all the way upstairs..

“Oh–my god.”

As you and Pietro approached the kitchen you could smell it before you could see it. And when you did see it, well. It was bad. 

“Oh thank god you’re here. Y/n I may be a little fucked right now.”

“No shit.” A blood splatter like pattern of flour littered 4 of the 6 cabinets. At least two eggs had either fallen to the floor or just cracked right there on the counter. 

“So we have some guests coming for dinner. And I decided to cook up some of my famous double chocolate brownies…I may have forgotten a few steps of the recipe so–”

“A few?” Pietro chimed in. “I’m pretty sure you don’t own a fucking cookbook, much less follow the steps of said cookbook.”

You walked towards Clint and used your thumb to wipe a clump of…maybe egg whites, from underneath his eye. 

“What about the dinner part of this dinner?” You asked.

Clint rolled his eyes. “That is going to be provided by one of Tony’s finest caterers. I told him my only job should be dessert. Then he told his caterer to make a cake, so my job is the dessert that people will have the option of eating.”

“Just tell us what you want us to do old man.” Pietro laughed. He grabbed an apron and tied it around himself, and then he handed another to you. “I think you might need this prinţesă.”

You took the apron from his hand and tied it around your waste. You were starting to grow found of his little nicknames. 

“Okay Pietro, whats the next step?” You held your flour covered arms over a bowl full of what you hoped would turn out to be a good cookie dough. Pietro had gotten assigned instruction reader after Clint asked him to crack an egg into his bowl and he had just crushed it in his hand, shell and all.

“Stir the cookie batter until it is wet enough to stick together.”

You looked down at the bowl, which at this moment only contained dry ingredients. “Yeah I don’t think that’s gonna happen.” You looked over your shoulder at Pietro, who had an open bag of chocolate chips that he was pouring directly into his mouth.

“Pietro. You didn’t tell me any of the wet ingredients yet.”

A devious grin formed on his face and he pushed off the counter he was sitting on and leaned in towards you. “Well dragă if it’s wet you want, leave it to me.” He was close enough for you to feel his breath on your neck, and holy shit were you okay with that?

“Okay, my god kid just read the directions!” Clint interrupted.

You laughed when you were embarrassed apparently, you didn’t know that until now.

Things were actually coming along. It was almost 5:00 and you guys were on your last batch of cookies. The caterer was supposed to be there at 6:00 for the party which began at 7:00. 

“I think we’re going to pull this off.” Clint sounded very surprised. Way too surprised for someone who agreed to this in the first place.

“And Y/n. You two still have enough time to get ready for tonight.”

You looked at Clint for a moment and then up at Pietro, hoping he understood what Clint meant.

“You know, for tonight, the thing we’ve been cooking for all day.”

“Hmm, yeah no. You didn’t say anything about me going so you know I’m not..going.”

Now both Pietro and Clint looked at you like you were crazy. 

“Y/n. Please.” When he said your name your eyes found his. “Don’t make me spend my evening with a ton of pretentious assholes. I mean, if you don’t go I will most definitely be the only.. interesting person there.”

By this point Clint had trained himself to automatically roll his eyes anytime Pietro talked.

You on the other hand, couldn’t help but notice the stall before Pietro said ‘interesting.’” 

You were really doing this. Knowingly walking into a room filled with people who would run if they knew even half of the things you had done.

Luckily Natasha gave you access to ‘anything in her wardrobe that you wanted.’

You chose a strapless black midi dress with floral print on the corset. 

You couldn’t even remember the last time you wore heels, and as soon as you put them on your feet began to hate you. Only a few hours of polite smiling while you pretended to know or care about what anyone was saying. Not too bad. You could do that. 

 A floor below you, you could hear the chatter of arriving guests. You didn’t want to do this, not even in the least bit. A quiet knock at the door startled you out of your trance. You opened it a crack to reveal two green eyes leading up at you. It was Wanda. 

A disarming smile graced her lips as she placed a tentative hand to your door, encouraging you to open it. 

 “Are you ready yet Y/n? I don’t want to walk down alone.” Her voice was sweet, very motherly. 

As you pushed open the door you saw the deep red of her long ball gown. Her hair was pulled up tight into a bun and that same smile was still on her face.

 Without a second thought, she weaved her arm through your own and guided you towards the stairs. “You look absolutely gorgeous Y/n.” 

 If you were honest, you really felt it too. Looking down at Wanda on your arm, you felt safe. Which is something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

 As the two of you got closer to the stairs, the noise grew louder. Between the music, and the crowd of people you now saw, the first thing on your list was a drink. Apparently Wanda had felt the same way because without a word she led the two of you to the bar. 

 As you all but glided across the room, eyes fell upon you. You could feel them staring. And the twinge you started to feel in the pit of your stomach was not a good one. Beside you, Wanda squeezed your arm a little, pulling your attention to her. 

 “I know what you are thinking. A life on the run will do this to a person. But I guarantee you, the stares are not ones of malice.” 

 As the two of you arrived at the bar, Wanda ordered for the both of you. When your drinks arrived, her choice surprised you. 

 “Whiskey neat has always been a favorite of mine.” She swirled the amber liquid in her glass and took a sip. 

 Not wanting to be fully aware at this party for much longer, you did the same; savoring the feel of the alcohol warming your insides. 

 From across the buzzing room, Clint caught your eye and smiled big. He made his way over to the two of you with a glass of champagne in his hand, his cheeks beet red. “Ladies, great to see you this evening. And may I say Wanda, you look amazing.. and Y/n.” He turned to you with what seemed a confused look. “I don’t know if I should be a ‘proud older brother’ or a ‘protective father figure’ right now but either way you look beautiful.” 

 “Holy shit,” You laughed, “that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He stayed by the two of you and talked your ears off about the multiple high class attendees that made it to the party. In all honesty you could care less, but he seemed excited and you were proud of him.

You felt a presence at your side and turned to see Pietro. He’d kept it simple, just dark blue suit and white shirt, but god did it catch your eye.

As he stood beside you he shamelessly looked you up and down. 

“Măiculiță Y/n.”

This caught Wanda’s attention and she whipped her head towards him. “Watch your mouth brother!” She hissed.

Pietro only caught your eye.

“Not too bad huh.” You said, giving him a half a twirl.

“Breathtaking.” Was all he said, eyes wide. But the way he said it; the honesty in his voice, the captivation in his eyes.

A grin began to pull at his lips. “I didn’t know you had been so worried about trying to impress me Y/n, but rest assured, you have.”

Aaand he’s back.

The rest of the night was increasingly better after Pietro had found you. He made you laugh like you hadn’t in a long time. His personality changed a bit after he’d had a few drinks. But it was a good change. Like he was beginning to let his guard down.

“Don’ worry. I’m not embarrassed to say. My first time was…less than satisfactory.”

You almost spit out your drink as Pietro continued. Was he really about to go there?

“…there was chocolate everywhere by now. She was saying something about not liking the feeling of it. I was confused as to what went wrong, until the next morning..when I saw that the chocolate I bought was the kind that doesn’t uh..tu stii, stay soft?”

It took you a moment to understand what he meant. 

“You mean the chocolate that hardens–”

“Yes! Thats it!” He laughed and took another sip of his drink. The joy in his eyes shone bright as he watched you.

“So what about you? What was your–”

“Absolutely not.” You said with a smile. “You aren’t as bad as I thought you were..but still no.”

He parted his mouth a little and tried to look offended. “Well thanks for that. I’m glad I’m not as horrible a person as you thought I was.”

That made you laugh and feel a bit guilty at the same time. “Oh, no! That’s not what I meant. I–” The smile that had been stuck on his face faltered as a woman approached the two of you.

He glanced over first, pulling your attention from conversation.

The girl you’d seen in the training room approached Pietro with a grin on her lips and a twinkle in her eye. She’d gotten much more confident and much more familiar very fast. She draped her arm around his shoulder and stared at you head-on. Obviously secure enough with Pietro to do so without even acknowledging him.

“Y/n. It was such a pleasure to learn from you today. The way you and Pietro went at each other today–” Pietro tensed up just like he had the other day, but Jordan wasn’t giving in so easily this time. “To be honest, it made me a little jealous. After last night though,” She said, leaning close to his ear.

Before she could continue doing, whatever the fuck she thought she was doing, you stood and grabbed your drink. “I didn’t think recruits were allowed on this floor.” You glanced down at her, and for the first time all night you were grateful to the heels.

She stuttered moment before responding. “They are if someone invites them.” She glanced over at Pietro as she spoke, but he was now on the offensive and physically removing her arm from around his shoulder. 

From what you could gather, he was explaining to her that he’d told her that her presence wasn’t a good idea. But you didn’t hear much more as you walked away.

Your body went cold as you left. Behind you Pietro ached as he watched you, but you weren’t going to do anything about that.

Whatever it was he did with her last night was banging at the door to your mind but you were doing everything in your power to keep it out. 

As you made your way to the stairs you passed Natasha who you hadn’t even seen all night. 

She beamed up at you as she saw you and you felt guilty passing her after she’d lended you her own clothes. 

“Y/n, you look amazing! I’m so happy you made it.” Her eyes were glazed, a big smile on her face.

“Of course I made it. I had to show off this beautiful dress you lent me.”

Her mouth fell open as if she’d just realized that was hers. 

“O’my god! You have to keep that. Please, I won’t take it back. It was made for you.”

Drunk Natasha was apparently extremely nice, but you glanced behind you and saw Pietro surveying the room, most likely looking for you, so you said your goodbyes and made your way towards the elevator instead. The only place you wanted to be right now was not here.

You made it onto the elevator before Pietro saw you, but not before Clint had followed you on.

“Quiet the party if I do say so myself. I spent half the night watching the dessert table and surprisingly, a lot of people went for the brownies I made. I mean, that is–”

Your silence caught his attention and he looked over at you. The quietness of the elevator as it carried the two of you downstairs was deafening.

Clint was the only person who ever saw you cry, he was there for you at your weakest point, but it had been so long since you needed him like this. You hated that you did.

Without another word, Clint followed you out of the tower and just stayed beside you as you walked. He knew you were headed in the direction of the apartment, but he knew if he wanted to get anything out of you he would have to wait for you to talk.

And you didn’t until the both of you were inside the loft. 

“Should I pour us a drink?” Clint asked as you walked up stairs.

“Better bring the whole bottle.”

He waited for you downstairs as you changed into something more comfortable. As you walked down you noticed him swirling his drink, waiting for you to join him.

As you did you took a big gulp of the bourbon he’d picked. You could feel his eyes on you. You had to give him something.

“I have these, nightmares now.” You started. “Almost every night now. I’m hurt, bleeding out. And I’m trying to get out of this building. I don’t know where I am, it’s always so dark.”

“I push myself to the end of the hallway, and every night it’s the same. Someone is standing there, blocking the door.”

“Someone, or…”

You glanced up at him, but the moment you caught his eye you looked back down.

“It’s Mark.”

He started to become uneasy now.

“Y/n you know what this could mean. All of that sounds painfully familiar and it seems like you are purposefully ignoring it.”

You hated how right he was. 

“Tell me this then. All those years ago, when we met. I found you close to death.  And that son of a bitch was nowhere to be found.” 

“Oh, fuck Clint.” You yelled, standing from the table and walking away.

“Honestly, have you never thought that maybe the faceless person who shot you in the dream was you remembering that it was–”

“Clint, please just stop.” You warned.

You ran your hands through your hair, tears covered your cheeks.

“Y/n. I know it’s hard to think about someone you love, betraying you. But maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought. I know I didn’t know him but you have to consider that he may have been the one who–”

“Mark couldn’t of shot me because I killed him okay!” Your chest rose and fell sporadically. Clint was rendered speechless as he watched you.

“When you found me we’d been on a mission. I–I told him we shouldn’t of gone in alone. He told me to trust him and I did and it got us both caught…They tortured us both. Mark had information they wanted. Things he hadn’t even told me. There was nowhere else for us to go.”

Clint stood and slowly walked over to you. You were shaking as you spoke.

“He knew I wouldn’t get out with him. I could see it in his eyes. He’d given up. We both had but he-h wouldn’t let me…after forcing him to watch as they tortured me, they shot me and pushed me over into a corner. The minute they left the room I forced myself up and I picked up a gun…The last time I looked in his eyes was the day I, killed him. I..I killed him. I left him there–”

Clint held you close to his chest as you sobbed. He held your weight for you. You could barely breath through tears, much less move.

You repeated those three words to yourself. The reality of Mark sinking in.

“Y/n. You didn’t kill him. Do you hear me? You did not kill him.”

He placed his hand on the back of your head and wished he could take your pain away. 

“You saved him in the only way you could Y/n.” 

Clint lifted you up and sat with you on the couch. He stayed with you all night.

The next morning Pietro woke up with a dull thud in his head. After you’d left the party he pulled Jordan aside and told her whatever it was they had going on was over. It was a lot of yelling. All of which he knew he deserved.

He didn’t know how he was going to fix things with you but he knew that when he looked at you, when he heard you laugh, it was the first time in a long time he’d felt like that. And he was willing to do whatever it took to get that back. In whatever form it took.

He saw you leave last night with Clint, so he remembered to order a black coffee along with a Vanilla Chai for you. He left the drinks outside your door, knocked and then left.

Baby steps.

You were due back at the tower for a training lesson you’d promised Natasha and Wanda you’d be there for. No one knew anything about this, and you would rather go than be asked later why you didn’t. 

“Y/n, they would understand if you didn’t show. It’s not a big deal.”

The last time you saw this side of Clint was 7 years ago. So protective, you appreciated it, but after all that time you’d learned that this life didn’t leave you much time to feel sorry for yourself.

Clint was in step right behind you as you went to leave the loft. As you opened the door, you all but stepped on top of the cups outside your door.

“–what the fuck.” You took a giant step over top of them to miss them. 

“Did you order coffee’s or something?” You asked him. He looked just as confused as you were. 

“The bad planning and consistency of ignoring my actual coffee order and getting me a black coffee says Pietro all over it. He do something to piss you off?”

“Do you even have to ask.” 

It was a cold morning, so the two of you opted for a taxi to the tower instead of walking.

The streets were eerily quiet. As you pulled open the front door, the unmistakable smell of blood over took your senses. 

A few feet from you you saw Frank slouched down on the ground, holding his hand to his shoulder that was gushing blood. 

“Frank!” You yelled, beginning to rush to him, but before you could even make a move, a forearm grabbed you around the neck and yanked you hard in the other direction. 

They put a gun to your head as Clint ran in after you. His eyes fell on you before they found Frank. 

“Help him.” You were able to mutter. The arm grasped down around your neck harder with every move you made.

“Just, let her go.” He said, hands warily extended towards the gunman. 

“I did that once. I won’t do it again.”

That voice made your blood run ice cold. 

Behind Clint, you heard the elevator ding as it arrived on the ground floor. Someone must have heard the gunshot.

Pietro and Steve rushed out of the elevator but came to an abrupt stop when they saw the gun to your head.

He leaned in close to your ear, sending a shiver up your spine. Tears streamed down your cheeks. “Last time I saw you, I was dead.” In front of you on the wall, you focused on the reflection of yourself in the picture. “But don’t worry too much about that Y/n. Cause like always, you were right.” Next to your face, you unmistakably saw the face of the man you’d let go of all those years ago. 

“Mark..” Was the last word you could get out before a blunt thud hit the back of your head and your world went dark.

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[lifeasitis21]

Nothing Else

All I've ever wanted to do, since I laid eyes on you," he hesitated and a short laugh escaped his crooked mouth. "..all I've wanted to do, is hold your hand."

You wanted to be surprised. You even wanted to laugh but looking at his eyes and his fingers nervously falling over each other, you could only think 'Okay. Maybe this is what it is.' Maybe this was how it was supposed to feel. Maybe love wasn't what you imagined when you were a young kid. It wasn't the stupid butterflies or the loss for words as you stare into your lovers eyes. It was just this inescapable feeling that you could grab his hand, and laugh until you felt dizzy and then maybe it was after the two of you had fallen over in elation and let your hands fall to your side. 

It was knowing that you didn't need to be there, but you were and you didn't want to be anywhere else. It was a distant look across the room with a shy smile that read the others mind. You didn't say anything, but he grabbed your hand anyway. This was the sweetness in your coffee tomorrow morning. This was a big t-shirt after a warm shower at the end of a day. He took your hand and you felt like a child again, on the morning of your birthday. It was ridiculous, or maybe just fucking adorable that he looked ahead of himself and tried not to smile. 

You weren't doing the same. The biggest smile made it's way onto your face and it wasn't going anywhere. 

One day it might be yelling and screaming at the top of your lungs but all the while knowing that neither of you were going anywhere. It may be intense and passionate for weeks on end but even if it never is, it will always be more than that; you will never need more than that. And on days when it feels Iike you're trying so hard, you will rest in knowing that you haven't ever really had to try at all.