content: jason talks about his scars, extreme fluff
You found him in the bathroom that morning, going to check on him after he didn't come down for his morning coffee like he usually did. It was a routine with you and Jason. He'd wake you up when he went to the bathroom and you would start the coffee before he'd come down to cook breakfast while you showered, giving you time to eat together before getting fully ready for your day.
“Hey,” you call from the doorway. Your voice is soft as you call out to him, crossing your arms over your chest in the cool morning air that breezes in through the open window. Jason needs to sleep in the cold, he panics if he gets too hot. He doesn't take his focus away from his reflection in the mirror.
“Mm?” Is all you get in response. The grunt alone sounds tired. And it's not just a normal ‘didn't get enough sleep' kind of tired. This sounds like it's coming from the bottom of his soul. Jason is tired.
“You okay?” You ask before stepping into the bathroom. The cold tiles bite at the bottom of your feet with each step. “You didn't come down for coffee.” You stand behind him and he sucks in a breath.
“Sorry.” He mumbles. He's thankful you can't feel the way his heart aches or how his stomach drops. He can't imagine you feeling that type of pain.
“What're you apologizing for?” Your arms wrap around his stomach and your forehead presses into his warm skin right between his shoulder blades. You can feel his muscles twitching beneath soft skin and scars.
“Why're you with me?” He asks in a hoarse whisper, not responding to your question.
Your stomach falls and panic sets in briefly before you stop yourself from spiraling. You move your head to the side and sigh, nuzzling your cheek into his warmth now.
“Because I love you.”
“I'm being serious-”
“So am I.”
It's quiet. Tense. Jason's arms flex as he grips the edge of the countertop.
“Even though I'm-...”
“Even though you're what?”
He takes a second to answer before whispering, “Ugly” with his head hung low.
One of your hands slides up to his chest with your palm flat against a thick jagged scar. You turn your head again, pressing a kiss into a freckle.
“Jason, you're not-”
“You don't have to lie.” He cuts you off as he looks at himself in the mirror again. You let out a breath and rest your forehead against him a second time before moving.
You step out from behind him and position yourself between him and the countertop. He makes a noise of protest but doesn't physically stop you. You're blocking his view of himself in the mirror and he glares at his reflection before looking down at you.
“What are you doing?” He asks, “Here, with me. Hm?”
Your hands are on his shoulders before you answer him, stopping to cup his cheeks to force him to look at you.
“Knock it off.” You tell him in a gentle tone before you kiss his chin. You watch as he lets his eyes fall shut before locking his gaze on yours again.
“I love everything about you.” You say. Your gaze doesn't waver, it never does with him. “Everything.” You reiterate. You feel as his jaw tenses.
“The scars?” He asks. He hates how weak he feels, how he feels the need to rely on you when he's at a low point. He's been through Hell and back, experienced Death and came out the other side, he tells him, he shouldn't need you.
And yet here he is. Ripping his heart out of his chest cavity where it's been kept safe for years, putting it in your hands and trusting you to keep it safe now.
He's a fool, he thinks.
“Yes, even the scars.” You respond. And then without missing a beat, “The ones inside and out.”
“Even the-” he stops himself for just a second, “even this one?” His cheek twitches. The scar is still a little pink some days. Sensitive, thick J shaped skin spanning the length of his cheek.
“Especially that one.” You say.
“Why?” He asks. His breathing had turned somewhat shallow like he's getting nervous.
“Because it's a sign you survived.”
“Me being alive is a sign I survived. I don't need a scar to prove it.” He bites back. You don't back down.
“That's true.” You keep your voice gentle, smooth. Jason doesn't know if he hates it or wants to melt at it. “But it's part of you and your story. How you got here. With me.”
“That's cheesy shit.” He mumbles and you huff out a quiet laugh.
“But you're not denying it.” You retort. And he's not.
“And the hair?” His eyes flick up to the streak of white before looking back at you.
You look up at his hair, it's always been one of your favorite parts of him. “What about it?”
“It wasn't always like this.”
You know that. “Yeah, but I've only ever known you with it.” You run a hand through the tangles and he leans into your touch, a low growl leaving the back of his throat. He's like a purring cat right in the palm of your hands.
“‘s ugly.” He mutters again with closed eyes.
“It's you.” You remind him before your hand is on his cheek and you're kissing the corner of his mouth.
His hands are on your hips pulling you closer, he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. One of your hands is around the back of his neck while the other cards through his hair.
“You really think that?” You hear, his words muffled against your skin. The stubble of his five o'clock shadow scratches against your neck and you have to bite back a laugh at the way it tickles.
“Of course I do.” You kiss at his temple as you hold him close, your grip on him firm.
His face buries further into you like he's a child hiding from a nightmare. And maybe he is, underneath all of the masks and bullets and scars.
“You're the first person to ever say that.” He tells you as he hooks his chin over your shoulder.
This time when he looks at himself in the mirror he doesn't see a fucked up monster. He sees Jason, your Jason, who might be worthy of being loved after all.
“Yeah? I better be the last person to say it, too.”
He smiles at your tease.
“You will be.”
Because for Jason - there's no one for him but you.
in an au where soulmates are an accepted phenomenon, and you only see in black & white until you meet your soulmate, sam winchester was born seeing in color.
he thinks it's just because he's not built for a soulmate, that the weird, ugly, broken thing inside of him exempts him from ever being connected to another human being like that.
he keeps books underneath his mattress, stolen from school libraries and left whenever they leave, of big dramatic soulmate revelations. of people who aren't soulmates but make it work anyway, of two widowed soulmates falling in love. a million soulmates-by-choice stories, where people carve out their own happiness.
he resents the fact that the sky is blue on the day of jessica's funeral, that he's allowed to know it.
in "faith," it's raining and dark and sam is so strung out he doesn't even notice the color leeching out of the world, a slow dial lowering the volume tick-by-tick.
it's not until dean gets dragged to hell, sam screaming no-no-no-no, that the world clicks off color like a light switch. sam crawls over to dean, and hauls him into his arms, and can barely see the blood anymore--soaked into the already-dark wood of the floor.
and sam sobs and sobs and sobs because not only does he have a soulmate--did, past tense--the entire time, but he's alone in it, because sam was hauled back into life and dean didn't mention it once.
summary: after one night with you, mattheo can't help but want more. sadly, you aren't the type for relationships: “that you no longer are, what you used to be, ever since you bared your skin for me”
warnings: suggestive, mentions of sex, angst
notes: get ready for angsty and soft mattheo riddle who is an absolute simp for you lmao, very angsty but with a happy ending :)
inspired by ‘the game’ by annett louisan
that you no longer are what you used to be ever since you bared your skin for me
"are you alright?" you were laying on the side, observing mattheo's face. he wasn't looking at you, keeping his eyes on the ceiling.
"y-yes" he breathed lowly and for the first time in ever, he didn't seem as cocky and arrogant.
"cool" you shrugged. you were just trying to be nice, he wasn't your boyfriend or anything, so his mood wasn't really your problem. you threw back the cover and got out of the bed, tapping across the room to collect your clothes.
"where are you going?" he asked, sitting up. his eyes followed your every move.
"to my room?" you wondered, why he was asking.
"oh" he leaned against the bedframe, taking out a pack of cigarettes. "do you want one?"
"what?" you laughed in disbelief "do i look like a hooker to you?"
"no" he shook his head. you watched him for a few more seconds, before you stepped into your skirt and put your sweater on.
"bye, mattheo" you smiled mischievously, before you left the room.
that you′ve lost your head in a single night and you're seeing things in another light
he didn't know yet, but that very night, you left a loneliness in him that he had never felt before. it seemed like ever since he got undressed for you, he wasn't how he used to be.
when you would see him around hogwarts he was often staring at you, thinking.
"you're staring again" theo elbowed mattheo. the classroom was quite big and you were sitting across from him, whispering with your friend.
"huh?" mattheo looked up at theo.
"she might notice" theo reminded "you're not invisible, matt"
"sure" mattheo shrugged his shoulder.
theo was the only one of his friends who had noticed the change in mattheo's character. he was acting unusal, especially because he hadn't hooked up with anyone in the last few weeks. he didn't have the courage to ask him about it yet, but he knew it had something to do with him always staring at you.
mattheo had been interested in sleeping with you for a long time. he had thought just getting it over with would stop his bubbling obsession, but it seemed to have made it worse. he wasn't used to desire someone like that, especially not after he had slept with them.
there was nothing new for him to see and still he wanted to do it again. for him it was like every single girl had suddenly disappeared. there was only you. sitting across from him. in a different light. and that scared him deeply.
during dinner theo had finally stopped making comments. mattheo was thankful for that, but he still tried to stray away from watching you, even if his eyes seemed to automatically find you.
"hey" blaise sat down on the bench in front of mattheo, successfully blocking his sight on you.
"hi" mattheo and theo chorused, before they continued eating. well, theo did, mattheo was just pushing food around on his plate.
"okay" blaise said "what's wrong with you both?"
mattheo send theo a look, who sighed "nothing"
"i should've stayed with pansy and draco" blaise muttered, nodding his head at the two sitting a few spots down. "even if they're hardcore flirting, at least that was some what interesting"
"wohoo!" enzo sat down next to blaise "the party can start!" he announced dramatically. mattheo rolled his eyes at the boy. blaise was annoying on his own, but the combination with enzo was nothing mattheo could take today.
it had been a month without sex and mattheo was feeling the effect.
"are we in a bad mood today?" enzo teased.
"fuck off" mattheo shoved his plate away and crossed his arms, bending his head down.
"hey" a soft voice made the boys look up. you were standing next to mattheo, who quickly scrumbled to his feet.
"hi" he said "how are you?"
"i'm fine" you smiled, sending an irritated look to enzo, whose eyes grew big as he recognized you. "is your friend alright?" you asked mattheo.
mattheo turned around and knew immediately who you were talking about. enzo was flailing his hands dramatically, hitting blaise on the shoulder over and over again, as if that would be enough to transfer his thoughts. "ignore him" mattheo tried his best to smile at you effortlessly, but was nervous about the reason you were talking to him in the first place.
"okay" you stretched, focusing on the boy in front of you again. "you forgot your notebook" you held it in his direction and he tried to hide his disappointment.
"oh" he nodded "thank you" you send him a last smile, before you turned around and walked back to your table
"that was horrible" theo muttered in mattheos direction, when he sat down again. before he could answer anything, enzo broke into a giggle.
"what's going on with you, you moron?" blaise looked at enzo in disgust and slid a bit to the side, rubbing his arm, that was probaly blue now after enzo had hit it multiple times.
"that's the girl!" enzo blabbled "from the party! the one you took back to the dorm!" he pointed his finger at mattheo. it seemed like enzo enjoyed knowing something secretive for the first time. normally he would be the last to hear about his friends flings.
"and?" mattheo shrugged, acting nonchalantly.
"yeah" blaise shrugged "she isn't the first and probably won't be the last, am i right?"
mattheo nodded relucantly and theo wiped his face with one hand, trying to hide his expression.
"hey mattheo" annie, a slytherin mattheo was sitting next to in potions, slid in on the bench next to him. he had been pursuing her for a few weeks, before he had slept with you.
"hi" mattheo replied absentmindedly.
blaise and enzo exchanged a confused look. theo shrugged. and mattheo? he seemed to be utterly uninterested in talking to annie any further. he turned his head away from the girl and she opened her mouth, but before anything could come out of it, blaise entered the non existent conversation.
"i'm good at sex too, sweetheart" he send her a smug smile, followed by a wink, while wiggling his eyebrows.
theo tried to hide his face, ashamed at what his friend was babbling and annie wrinkled her nose, looking at blaise disgusted.
"what?" she asked and then turned to mattheo "aren't you going to say anything?"
mattheo shrugged and took a sip from his water. annie shook her head outraged and got up. "arrogant asshole" she threw her head back and walked off.
that because of me you would leave a love and now I'm all you're dreaming of
"what was that?" enzo asked and even he seemed to be irritated now.
"what do you mean?" mattheo acted like he didn't have a clue what his friend was talking about.
"annie" blaise exclaimed, pointing in the direction the girl had just left. "you wanted to tap that ever since the school year started"
"you just ruined your progress" enzo added.
"i don't care" mattheo got up. his eyes caught yours across the hall. you smiled at him, before you continued your conversation with a boy, mattheo had never seen before, who was obviously flirting with you "i don't want her anymore"
blaise and enzo turned around. blaise clasped a hand over his mouth as soon as he realized what was going on.
"the girl from the party?" enzo asked confused, he was a bit slower.
"y/n" mattheo corrected, burying his hands in the pockets of his trousers
"what about her" blaise elbowed enzo. hard. "ow! blaise!"
"just look at him" theo muttered and mattheo didn't even hear his friends talking anymore. he was too focused on you and that boy, focused how you touched his arm and threw your head back from laughter. a month ago it had been mattheo talking with you like that. now you were the only thing that mattered to him and it seemed he couldn't be more irrelevant to you.
"shit" enzo mumbled as he realized. mattheo took that as his cue to leave and do something about his pathetic situation.
"can we talk?" he asked and you looked up at him confused.
"we're sort of in the middle of something" the unknown boy said. mattheo ignored him, sending you a pleading look.
"sure" you agreed, excusing yourself and following mattheo out of the hall and into an abondened classroom.
"so, what did you want to talk about?" you crossed your arms, leaning you back against one of the tables.
"you're driving me crazy, y/n" he quickly said and you raised your eyebrows. "i can't get you off my mind, ever since that night"
"oh" you simply said "i didn't want to mislead you, mattheo"
that dismal to be when every now and then someone else i′ll see again, it wasn't planned that you now feel like one of many
he sighed, his hand running through his curls. he stepped closer and the worried look on your face was making him go feral, the way you looked up to him through thick lashes, your hair, your smell, everything about you. his hand cupped your cheek softly, his thumb brushing along your lip.
"mattheo" you muttered. you didn't know that he was thinking more of that night "i thought we both agreed that this was just a simple hook up"
"it's not simple anymore" mattheo whispered and his breath fanned over your skin, making you perk up and inch closer. but you had to control yourself. it would be different for you than for him, you didn't want to take advantage of his feelings. "i want you to myself, all of you" he said and confirmed your worries.
"mattheo" you pleaded again. you touched his cheek. and his skin felt like it was burning under your touch. "i don't want to be someone's girlfriend" you muttered and you could see the hurt in his eyes.
"i can't bear to see you with him" he admitted "not with anyone"
"i didn't want you to feel like one of many" you said softly. he let go of your cheek and you took his face in both of your hands. "we can do it again" you looked into his eyes "but it's not like that for me"
"i don't care" mattheo crashed his lips to yours. he lifted you up on the table behind you, deepening the kiss and opening your ponytail with a quick gesture. he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours. you stroke his cheek and he smiled, tears shimmering in his eyes. "be mine. just for now"
"okay" you said and you felt worse at the smile that appeared on his face.
he nodded. "okay"
that you fall in love, because we do it. that it affects you so much i did not know that
mattheo climbed on top of you, pushing you down on the table and both of you knew that this was a volatile arrangement. you would keep your promise, but he knew you weren't his. he ignored that as he opened your bra and littered your collarbone with kisses.
you looked up to the ceiling and felt the guilt bubble inside of you. this felt wrong. and you were scared that mattheo was confusing lust with love. after all you weren't the type for relationships and you had thought he wasn't either.
you both parted ways after that night in the classroom. you kept out of his way out of guilt. and he kept away from you in the hope that whatever he was feeling was finally going to disappear.
halloween came and went and mattheo felt himself indulge in meaningless hookups, just like before he had been with you, but it wasn't the same. it felt wrong, like a duty he couldn't fulfill.
you weren't able to forget the feeling of the touch of his skin. the way it burned under your hand. they way nobody elses skin had ever burned under your touch. not like that atleast.
it took less than a week for a note to find you and for you to return to the abandoned classroom during nightfall. it made your heart burn to see him like that. desperate for your warmth. that night he took you out of the castle and while you were laying on the grass and watching his features shine under the stars, you had almost wanted to cry.
the sight of him saddened you and made you wish to give him all he was longing for. but you couldn't and mattheo knew that, but that night you were his for a short time once again.
you decided that this was going to be the last time. you would break it off the next time he would send a note. seeing the hurt in his eyes broke you more and more. especially when he tried to advert his eyes from you around the castle. as if he was constantly telling himself off for liking you the way he did.
leave it be, i can't deal, i have too much respect for how you feel
he was waiting for you when you arrived the next night. the glint of hope, any time you came to your secret meetings made everything so much worse.
"we have to stop doing this" you got right to the point.
mattheo's face fell. "what?"
"this isn't doing you any good" you admitted "i can't bear to hurt you"
"okay" he said "then don't go"
"it will hurt so much more if i don't go now"
he shook his head "you don't know that"
"i do" you assured unwillingly "it's not the same for me, matty"
"you don't feel anything?" he muttered, gently touching your face "does this do nothing to you at all?"
"not in the way you would want" you looked to the ground, trying to avoid his eyes. "i don't do commitment"
mattheo stepped back from you and nodded bitterly. "yeah" he shrugged. "why would you?"
you saw the tears glistening in his eyes. "i have too much respect for you and the way you feel than to play with you like that"
"don't say that" he shook his head and adverted his eyes.
"i'm sorry, matty, i truly am" you tried to grab his hand, but he moved backwards "but what did you expect? i told you the truth from the beginning"
"i know" he pushed his hair back, looking from the ground to your eyes "i thought, maybe, if this was going on for longer, you would eventually like me like that"
this was it. this was the moment your heart broke. he was looking at you and a single tear slipped down his cheek. in that moment you truly regretted ever coming close to him.
"you don't want that" you promised "you don't want to know me in a way that's more than for a night"
"i do" he argued "of course i want that"
"i will just let you down, matty"
"don't be ridiculous" he grabbed your shoulders
"loving me is not easy" you said loudly, trying to escape his hold.
"i know" he admitted "it's fucking hell"
you looked up at him in surprise. "you don't know what you're saying" you turned your body away from him with a sudden movement. "you don't love me. you can't love me"
"you'd be surprised at how much" he said softly. you turned around and looked at his face. you had known that he wanted more from you than you were able to give him.. but love? you had initially thought that whatever it was that made him dream of you, would be forgotten in less than a week. at least that was what had happened with any guy that claimed to like you before.
"i love you" he said, more clearly. "so much"
you couldn't allow yourself to hope. you couldn't take his words seriously. you shook your head and his smile died once again. whatever part of him had hoped to convince you was crashed and burning by now. "it will go away"
he watched in dispair as you silently left the room, without looking at him. he sank down on the table behind him, burying his face in his hands. what he didn't know was that you were doing the exact same right outside the classroom.
the next morning during breakfast you felt burned out by how much you had cried that night. your eyes felt puffy and your voice was hoarse. you ignored the conversations your friends were having around you, even if you got talked to. instead your eyes were fixated on the empty spot next to theo nott.
theo, who had noticed your look, send you a sympathic smile and shrugged his shoulders, making it obvious that he knew as much as you about mattheo's absence.
you got up from your seat aprublty, leaving the hall quickly and ignoring your friends questions. you took the fastest way to the astronomy tower you knew. you couldn't sit at the table and act like everything was normal. you wanted to be alone.
you let you legs dangle, the pole inbetween them securing your seating.
"seems like we both had the same idea" a sudden voice pulled you from your thoughts. you looked up. mattheo was standing at the stairs. you got up from your place.
"i'll leave" you assured him. after yesterday, you felt like it was your duty to give him space. he wasn't the problem, you were. and you didn't want to cause him any more harm.
"you don't have to" mattheo shrugged and you noticed that he was lying. he would rather have you leave again then look at you while knowing you would never reciprocate the way he did it.
"it's fine" you smiled, but it wasn't genuine. you walked past him, but unintentionally stumbled and almost fell down the stairs. he reacted quickly and caught your arm.
he let go of you after he had stabilized your footing.
"thank you" you mumbled
he ignored it. "maybe you should go to madam pomfrey, your arm is burning hot"
you perked up at that. "what?" you whispered.
"your arm is burning hot" he repeated, assuming you just hadn't heard him.
you looked at him in disbelief, remembering how his skin used to feel under your touch, and how the reason behind it all had been simple and plain love.
but you had to know for sure. you pulled your blouse from your skirt, quickly unbuttoning the last buttons. you pulled it up, so that your skin was bare. "can you touch me there?" you asked and mattheo's eyes widened.
"what the fuck?" he wondered.
"can you just do it, please?" you asked again and he sighed, but softly touched you. "is it hot?"
"your skin or this situation?"
"the skin" your face reddened.
mattheo nodded and frowned. "alarmingly, actually"
"open your shirt" you directed and to your surprise, he did like you had asked without the slightest hesitation.
you pressed you hand against his chest quickly. his skin was burning underneath it. you smiled.
"touch my face" mattheo cupped your cheeks. he nodded silently, confirming that your face was as hot as the rest of your body.
your smile grew even bigger and mattheo smiled back hesitantely, still confused at what was going on. "can i hug you?" you asked.
mattheo nodded and opened his arms for you to step in. for the first time you were doing something that didn't involve sexual lust. you breathed in his smell of nicotine and perfume and you wondered how something so simple could be so special. you stepped back and you knew that you were now seeing things in a different light, everything, even him.
"i'm probably not good at it" you admitted "but i think i'm in love with you"
mattheo smiled at you and laughed. "you were teribble at it, yeah" he grinned "so there is much room for improvement"
you giggled, but quickly grew serious again "i'm not good at being committed"
"me either" he said and stepped closer, taking your face in his hands once again. "but we will manage, we can learn together" he promised and kissed you softly. both of your lips were burning up.
"that sounds like a plan" you smiled, touching his cheeks with your fingers "but it will be hard to love me" you looked down.
"i don't care" mattheo crashed his lips to yours. he drew you close to his body, deepening the kiss and squeezing your waist in a way that made you squeek in surprise. he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours. you stroke his cheek and he smiled, happy tears shimmering in his eyes. "be mine. for longer than now"
"okay" you nodded and you felt butterflies errupting at the smile that appeared on his face.
I believe Simon Riley would be a great communicator. He has no issues with speaking his wants and needs out loud, or making things clear. He's a decorated lieutenant and is part of an elite task force who regularly has to write reports about field missions. He can't afford not to be good at communication. But the brain worms have demands that I must write.
Simon Riley, who instead of just saying directly that he wants you to move in with him, just starts adding to his flat and hopes you notice. The bed that was previously pushed against a wall in the bedroom is moved out the next time you spend the night- an extra nightstand with a lamp of your own and some of things you keep in the nightstand at your flat in the drawer. Blankets thrown over the back of the couch because you get cold and refuse to turn the heat on, pillows tucked into the corners because you fall asleep watching tv too much. A basket of toiletries in the closet in the bathroom, and hair and makeup accessories kept under the sink. He's emptied half the dresser and half the closet so you can add clothes the next time you stay over. He's even filled the fridge and pantry with your favorite snacks, as if to tempt you into staying the night more and more so maybe you'll get the hint and just stay permanently. Simon Riley who's making space in his life for you and just expects you to notice without him having to say it, because his love language is acts of service and quality time, and how better to achieve both of those than you just being with him 24/7?
How do you think tony would react to nats death? (In an ironwidow world ofc)!
Anon you've caught me in an ironwidow mood, and also a writing mood, and also an Endgame mood thanks to @queeenpersephone's excellent scene rewrite. So, it seems like the stars have aligned to make me answer this ask ;)
----
"See you in a minute." Natasha had smirked and brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth, a quick goodbye like she was going to to pick up cat food from the store down the road. Tony had barely laid a hand on her waist, hadn't even begun to hold her close for a lingering goodbye before they went off to different corners of space and time, when she stepped back lithely and slipped out of his reach.
He'll see her before too long.
But a minute later – after he took a life-changing trip to the past and laid some daddy issues to rest – Clint returns alone to the here and now. Drenched and weaponless, he collapses onto all fours, an orange jewel clutched in his hand.
The Avengers stare at him in trepidation, waiting for an explanation, when all he can offer is a grief-stricken look on his face. A black holes opens up in Tony's stomach and swallows his pounding heart.
"Where is she?" he demands, his voice shaking.
The bow-less archer turns his eyes to him. A look of profound sorrow carved into the lines on his face.
No. Tony swallows the despair that threatens to swallow him whole. "Where is she?!" He repeats, using anger to mask the immense fear that yawns inside him. He steps forward and kneels down to grabs Clint by the shoulders. "Tell me, you coward!" he snarls, at once a demand and a plea. Tell me she's right behind you. Tell me she got left behind. Tell me there's still time to save her. Tell me… tell me… anything except –
Clint shakes his head, unshed tears in his eyes like the alien stars he has just witnessed. "She's gone." His voice cracks.
"No – you're lying." Tony's voice comes out far harsher than he intends. "Tell me you're lying, Barton. Tell me where she is." He's pleading now, all desperation.
"Clint?" Steve prompts, his voice even and calm and Tony hates it, hates how he can be so fucking composed when Natasha isn't here. "Tell us what happened."
"The stone demanded a sacrifice," Clint says. "I tried to stop her, I really did." A sob wrenches its way out of his throat. "I fought her so that she wouldn't jump but she…" His laugh is a broken thing. Something inside Tony – the last remaining shard of hope – shatters at the sound. "She was too fast, too strong for me." He sinks his forehead onto Tony's shoulder despite the other man's aggressive hold. "It should have been me."
"No. No, that's not true, that's not…" Tony stumbles over the words. His head spins, light particles and dust molecules and oxygen swirl around him, taking no shape. His lungs don't work properly anymore. He sees her in his mind's eye, on some barren cliff on an alien planet, and the image doesn't make sense, it simply isn't possible. That she no longer exists somewhere in the world, that the universe isn't warmer for her presence, living and breathing, as certain as the Earth spinning on its axis. Tony wants to look out the windows because surely, surely without her the sun would crumble into ash and the atmosphere disappear and the world fall into smothering darkness because a world without Natasha – is not a world that can exist at all.
Clint raises his head and the grief in his eyes is as fathomless as the pit that yawns within Tony. A black hole to swallow them both and the world with them. Part of Tony wants to put his arms around Clint, hold onto the only person who can possibly understand this terrible, apocalyptic grief and emptiness. But the other part of him wants to push him away, to curse and scream, to fight time and fate and the universe itself.
That angry, resentful part wins out. He shoves Clint off and gets to his feet. "You're right," he snarls. "She's not the one who deserved to die."
"Tony!" Steve gasps in reproach, grabbing Tony's shoulder. But Clint only hangs his head in shame. "That was out of line," Steve reprimands.
"Out of line?" Tony echoes angrily. "Natasha is –" /dead/. He can't bring himself to say the word, to make it unbearably true and final. If he doesn't say it, he can pretend that maybe, maybe in another minute he'll see her again, and this time he'll wrap his arms around her, holding her properly so that she can't slip away again.
"She's gone," Steve says with sombre finality. The lines between his brows betray that he's already admitted defeat, and it makes Tony want to punch him in the face. "We've got to move on." The look of sympathy in his eyes, that implies I know how you feel, makes Tony sick to the stomach.
Tony's voice is freezing cold. "With all due respect, Cap," which is none, he adds silently, "Natasha isn't Peggy Carter. She didn't get to live a full life and achieve great things, and grow old, and die in her own bed surrounded by her children and grandchildren. She has so much life left to live!" He's vibrating with rage, and it's all he can do to stop himself from throwing hands with Captain America.
"She did," Steve agrees, squeezing Tony's shoulder in a way that's meant to be comforting but comes across as a pressure. "But she sacrificed herself for a cause, and we'll honour that. Make the price she paid worth it. We'll save the world. It's what she would want."
Tony glares, his anger freezes his veins and burns him from the inside out. "You don't get to tell me what Natasha would want." He pushes Steve's hand from his shoulder. "For someone who says he wants to save the world, you're awfully quick to give up on the people you love."
"You can't change the past, Tony," Steve urges, but Tony brushes past him roughly.
"No," he says with icy conviction. "I refuse to believe that. I didn't figure out time travel by admitting defeat. You might be able to move on, Steve," he adds scathingly. "But not me."
He marches to the console of the time travel machine. A cold fire burns at the edges of the black hole inside him, the only thing keeping it from engulfing him in despair. He's figured out time travel once, he can do it again. Especially when it's the life of the one person he loves more than anything else that's on the line.
He looks around the tense, grief-stricken faces of the gathered Avengers. Everyone Natasha loves – everyone who loves Natasha – in one room. Steve's arms are crossed and he frowns in disapproval, but Tony can't give a rat's ass what Captain America thought. "We want to save the world?" He puts it to the team. Bruce and Thor offer tentative nods, and that's good enough for him. "Good. We start by saving one of our own. It's only a victory if we all win together."
A spark lights up behind Clint's eyes. A glimmer of hope. Wordlessly, he gets to his feet and offers Tony the orange gem that sits in the palm of his hand. The Infinity Stone that Natasha gave her life for. A singularity of the birth of the universe, but a trinket compared to the singularity, the complexity, the paradox that is Natasha Romanoff.
As Tony takes the Stone from Clint's hand, a silent understanding passes between the two of them. They would trade all six Infinity Stones, a hundred times over, for Natasha's life and think it a bargain.
"New mission, team," he announces. It's a side quest in the grand scheme of the fate of the world, but it's also the only quest that's ever mattered. Because what good is saving the world if Natasha isn't in it? He adjusts the coordinates on the time travel machine and sets a course to Vormir. "We're gonna get Natasha back." Or he would die trying. Either way, he promises silently, I'll see you soon, honey.
a/n: I know I said that I want to write some reader inserts but I couldn't keep it for this one. This is something more wholesome so please bare with me qwq
summary: If Lailah only listened and trusted him for keeping his promise. Luckily Bael did this time, otherwise she would have been in danger.
cw: Implied sexual content, mention of alcohol and drugs
Ship: (Implied Beelzebub x MC x Bael), Bael x MC
word count: 1607
“I’m almost done, Lailah… I promise. You can go ahead, I’ll catch up to you as soon as I am done with all the paperwork.”
An empty promise again. Lailah paces around in the bedroom she shares with her boyfriends. Even though it’s mostly her and Bael since Beelzebub never really is in Abyssos. Anger bubbles up inside of her as his words continue to echo in her head.
“He should just tell me if he doesn’t want to spend time with me…” she mutters to herself but then Lailah stops in her tracks as she looks out of the window, watching the illuminated city streets as an idea pops up in her mind.
“He’ll catch up… Then he should act on it…” the female whispers angrily, blinded by her emotions.
Without any other thought, she leaves the bedroom and heads for the front doors of the palace. He said he’ll catch up to her, right? So it wouldn’t be too bad if she goes ahead into the city, right? Oh, how wrong she is.
Roaming the back streets of the city, Lailah is incredibly blinded by her emotions so she doesn’t notice some Devils following her. As the Daughter of Solomon she is some kind of a celebrity in Hell, but being a celebrity loved by everyone still has its dangers.
“Ah fuck… Where am I? I have been here before but can’t remember where to go now.” Lailah concludes. She stops abruptly and looks around. Abyssos is dangerous even without the angels attacking and she knows that, but her irrational thoughts got the best of her and now she regrets it.
“I hope he won’t be mad at me…” she murmurs nervously when she turns around in order to go back to the palace only to find herself cornered by the Devils that followed her.
“It’s a rare sight to see the Daughter of Solomon alone in the streets of Abyssos. Let us treat you to a drink.” One of the Devils says in a cheerful manner.
Well fuck.
“Would you like to try some high quality drugs as well?” Another one asks and holds a bag with some purple powder out to her.
Lailah tries to swallow that lump in her throat, that has built itself up due to the increasing anxiety. If stranger danger has a personification, it is Lailah.
With a nervous smile she shakes her head, frantic eyes look for an escape route. She knows those Devils wouldn’t want to hurt her, they are drawn to her because of her heritage. They won’t hurt her, right?
“That’s a very kind offer, but I’m afraid I have to decline. I have an urgent appointment.” Lailah claims with a shaky voice. Cold sweat runs down her neck. She shouldn’t have left the palace on her own. She should have waited in the bedroom for Bael, instead of running off alone into the streets of Abyssos, knowing that others would try to get to her, even though if they are nice.
“Are you sure you don’t have some spare time? Solomon always tried to make time for us.” A third one presses and gets a little closer to the female.
Solomon did, but Lailah is not Solomon himself. Her breath hitches in her throat, unable to speak up again she backs away slowly, her body shaking slightly, until she bumps into someone behind her. She turns her head and sighs in relief when she sees Bael standing right behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist.
“The Daughter of Solomon has an appointment with me, so please excuse us.” He tells those Devils while his arm tightens around her waist. The Devils look at each other in confusion and without any other words, the substitute King picks the female up bridal style and leaves the scene with her. His grip on her is tight as he carries her wordlessly back to the palace.
Lailah on the other side fidgets with her hands, unable to read her savior’s face. Is he mad? Is he relieved? He could be anything but happy with how her little stunt went.
“We talk about that at home, Lailah…” Bael announces with his voice being firm as he doesn’t even look at her, his eyes are focused on the busy streets of Abyssos.
He sounds disappointed but not mad, which is not so bad but not so good either. She imagined something better like cuddling or getting laid instead of getting scolded for her reckless behavior which is his right after all. Since she knows how dangerous Abyssos is, especially around this hour. The streets are packed with all kinds of people and not only the nice ones.
The dissonance of the city is far from enough to drown out the silent tension between Bael and Lailah. The dead air between them remains the whole way through the city and into the bedroom. The Devil places her carefully on the bed before he settles down next to her and pulls her close.
“I know you were mad at me for telling you I need to finish the paperwork, but I can’t have you to going out alone at this hour. I know others don’t want to potentially harm you but the city is dangerous… Lailah, you already have a damn target branded on your chest because of that bastard Seraph Gabriel… I can’t have you in any more danger than you already are…” Bael explains in a half lecturing way as he holds her close, his arms are wrapped around her waist and his head is resting on top of hers.
“I know… I’m sorry… I didn’t want to worry you because you have enough stuff to worry about. I was just… mad and felt a little bit neglected though I know you don’t neglect me in any possible way. “ The female whispers and snuggles up to her boyfriend for comfort. The comforting feeling of his arms wrapped around her makes her feel safe and sound. She closes her eyes and hums contentedly, breathing in his calming scent. A long period of soothing silence follows.
“I don’t know why but I really appreciate to have you all to myself once in a while… But I don’t want to come across as selfish. We are three people in this relationship after all…” Bael whispers into Lailah’s hair, breaking the silence, while he draws circles on her skin with his gloved fingers.
Lailah can’t help but chuckle about that, smiling to herself a little and opens her eyes again.
“Treat it like a reward for doing all the hard work that isn’t actually yours… You’re doing great, Bael… but you need to take more breaks, you workaholic idiot.” She states sternly reaching up to pinch his cheek, but giggles as he grabs her wrist and plants a soft kiss on it. This little gesture reminds her that he treats her like a princess whenever they get to spend time together.
“I know… I know, but I want to get the excessive amount of work finished… Though it becomes more instead of less…” Bael mutters and falls backwards into the pillows with his girlfriend and kisses her forehead briefly, earning himself a sweet giggle of her that makes him smile warmly at Lailah. He relaxes a little further and plays with a few of her purple strands of her silky hair, moving her bangs out of her face so he catches a good view on her mismatched colored eyes.
“You know how much I hate it when you do that…” Lailah complains and blushes as he does so, breaking eye contact with him but as soon as she feels his hand on her cheek, she looks at him again shyly. His soft smile sends a warm feeling to her stomach before she leans forward and steals herself a kiss from him.
“I just love looking at your eyes… I think they compliment each other… the dark blue that reminds me of the sea, the yellowish gold that almost matches my own eyes. I know you hate them for their mismatching color, so I have to love them and I am required to love them for you as well…” the Devil confesses with a loving smile on his face and leans in closer to her, his lips almost touching hers.
They keep looking at each other for a while, seemingly minutes, before Bael finally closes the distance between them and kisses her softly, his eyes closing slowly to let himself fall into the comfort of their tender moment. Lailah does the same, letting out a soft sigh and her hands are pressing against him to steady herself a little and to maintain this little moment between them as innocent and civil as possible.
“Only making out tonight? Nothing more?” Bael asks as he pulls away a little with a smirk on his face. His voice is husky and it appears like he is left breathlessly. He pulls her tight to his body by her waist before he takes the initiative to pin her down beneath him, causing her blush to grow bigger.
“As long as we don’t break the bed again, I- I don’t mind us getting at it…” Lailah stutters out while she stares up at him along with a certain sparkle in her eyes, her cheeks have a bright pink hue to them. A smug smile is tugging at the corners of her lips that are sealed with those of her boyfriend as soon as the sentence leaves her mouth, therefore they can finally indulge into their small moment of intimacy.
The line had dwindled down and the couple stood in the shade of the umbrella, Agustín sharing his stories of just that morning after she’d left for the town square. He’d managed to fall down every stair in Casita on his backside and bruised his tailbone. “I’m fine of course, having used my personal emergency stash of candies that mi bella esposa made for me.”
