#Bear and Breakfast Tony

[thegalleonsnest]

After watching some Bear And Breakfast, I have determined that the cast of critters is amazing. Will is my favorite :) (plus like two smaller doodles squeezed in)

[carmenized-onions]

Do the Thing! | Toilet Repair

logline; Today's itinerary: Fix the toilet, catch up with Syd, try not to cry when everyone asks you where you've been.

series history; Previous Chapter

portion; 7.1k+ (this shit got away from me man, idk what to say)

possible allergies; Negative self-talk (It's the Bear, babe, everyone's sad). I did no research on plumbing and am truly making it the fuck up-- I know for a fact I'm not using any word correctly and I simply will not be fixing it. Reader eats meat!! Specifically pork!! Your 'name' is 100% just Tony now.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns, but 'handywoman' and 'Miss' are said. Plus a chest reference).

you ever start writing and you just cannot seem to find an end so you keep going forever? yeah.

“I think my name is just Tony now.”

You sip your overpriced orange juice. You really have to fucking savour it, now a days. That’s like 25 cents a sip, and Syd’s treating you to this breakfast outing, so it’s not even your own wallet on the line here.

“You lose all sense of identity, in a restaurant.” Syd straightens her back, mocking her very own mechanical movements of whenever she steps in a kitchen. “I am Chef.”

This diner isn’t more than two blocks down from The Bear. It was probably your second favourite spot in this neighbourhood. Probably still is. Sitting in the back corner booth (your favourite) with Syd is nice but distracting. She’s been updating you on everything since the catering scene and her botched credit, and you’re absorbing all of it, you swear, it’s just hard to not remember why this was your favourite booth.

Not because it’s seats are the least worn in, not because it’s got the right amount of sun through the window without blinding you, but because of the company you kept here. You’re trying to not notice your own name carved into the table. Especially since it’s not your handiwork.

You laugh at Syd’s joke on time, thank God. No awkward pause. “Yeah, you fuckin’ are. Head, right?”

She nods. “It’s cool. It’s like, vomit-worthy stressful but also…”

“You wish you were dead when you’re there, but you’d rather be dead than do anything else?”

“Yessir.” She nods again, digging further into her pancakes. “I really fucking owe you, by the way.”

“You’re paying me off through breakfast.” You wave her off. “Plus, I was available and it was like maaayybe 5 minutes of manual labour, it’s nothing.”

“Y’know what?” She hums, “I think actually, you owe me.”

“Yeah?” You grin.” Please, let me clear my debts, Syd?”

She smiles, pointing her fork at you. “You owe me the fuckin’ Beef background I’ve apparently not unlocked. Everyone was talking about you after.”

“Good things?”

“Vague things. Shit made me even more curious.”

You laugh. No shit they’d be vague. What can they say? “When my dad was running the repairmen gig, Cicero or Fak would call him in—”

“Oh fuck.” She snaps her fingers, seemingly in realization. “Your dad’s the connection!”

“The connection?”

“Fak said he had a connection for our fire safety test shit, and then said he didn’t—”

“Ah.” You nod knowingly. “Dad cut the cord on his business phone when it transferred to me, didn’t really keep people updated. Whoops.”

She nods, taking another bite of her pancakes, speaking mid-chew. “You could’ve saved our asses way faster, and I’ll-I'll never forgive you, but continue.”

Snickering, you continue, “Well, they’d call my dad in, and then my dad would call me in as his like, like his fuckin’ Sous of Repairs. And shit broke all the time at the Beef, as I’m sure you’re well aware, so I hung out around Mikey and everyone a lot.”

“Ah. N’ then…”

“He fuckin’ died.” You laugh, because there’s no way to say it smooth, so you might as well say it bad. You stretch out your arms and lean back in the booth. “I kinda took a step back, after that, so we didn’t manage to crossover ‘til now. S’ironic that you’re the one that brought me back instead of an oldie, honestly.”

She desperately wants to ask more about Mike, but she can tell now is not the time, so she just lets it lie and moves on. “You stopped being an EMT to take up the handyman shit, then?”

“Yessir.” You nod, finishing your straggling home fries. “Just kinda made sense to trade off, and I didn’t want to see the family bizz die. Do I have to occasionally pick up shifts bartending to make rent during slow months? Yes. But I also don’t watch people die anymore, so that’s a win.”

“In a way, you’re watching people die still, just slowly.”

You bite down hard to stifle any semblance of a smile or laughter, deadpanning, just to see her squirm in awkwardness for a moment. It works with flying colours, of course it does. It’s Syd. She’s still Syd. You speak at the same time.

“Cause of the alcohol?” “Cause—Cause of the alcohol.”

You both break into laughter, she throws her napkin at you. “Can’t stand you, oh my god. Let’s go clock in.”

She pays your bill before you can try to sneak your card in, which feels all too familiar, and you’re off.

Off to fix an exploded toilet.

“How the fuck do you fix an exploded toilet?”

Your hands rub over your face, lifting your safety goggles for a second. Too fucking foggy. Too fucking sweaty. Plumbing never really was your biggest strength. You’re staring at the bane of your existence, and it’s the latrine. How far we fall.

“You good, Cousin?” You hear from behind. You don’t need to turn to know it’s Richie in the doorway. It’s a fair question, you’re sitting criss-cross in front of a toilet, head in hands.

“Yeah, Cousin, I’m good.” Your words are muffled by your hands. Fully not cousins. For the record. You would argue you're not even that close, but he'd slap you upside the head. You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “Can you like, get me a pen and note pad? I need to like, strategize an attack.”

“It’s not that bad, Cousin—” “It’s that bad.” “Just tape the—” “Fuck off with the tape!”

You click your teeth, staring at the gurgling porcelain before you— At least it’s clean, it’s just fucked. “I shut the valve and it didn’t do shit. I think I have to remove it entirely so I can see what’s going on with the underground pipe.”

“Heard.” Richie and you both know that his hotfix handiwork has absolutely contributed to this penultimate mess you’re in now, but you’re both letting that go quietly for now. “You charge by hour or service?”

“Service flat rate and then after two hours it’s by hour.”

He hums, knocking his fist on the doorway a few times before walking away. “Pen and pad, Chef.”

“Not a Chef!”

“Term of Respect, Chef!”

You tap your leg incessantly, groaning like you’ve got an 80-year-old body as you stand to your feet. Richie’s grown a lot. He wears suits now. Hasn’t even poked at you for vanishing. Though you have a feeling it’s coming. If not from him, from someone.

You step out into the hall, leaned against the wall with your arms crossed as you wait for your pen and pad. And now you just have more time and a better view to take in how much has changed.

Gutted. A few walls gone. Makes sense, you told Mikey he was getting a mold problem. He never listened. Seats are new. The booths are the all-around style ones now. Ritzy. It’s too good for this neighbourhood. Is that a good thing? Yeah, right? Despite the fact that The Bear should feel out of place, you feel out of place being in it. Could you afford to eat here? Could the people who work here afford to eat here? Syd said she’s not getting paid for the next few months, so at the very least, the Head Chef can’t.

“Strange?” Tina sidles up to you on the wall, wiping her hands on her apron. Completely knocking you out of your dissociative fugue state.

“Yeah.” You nod, a little too quickly, that felt judgey, you correct, uncrossing your arms. “It’s daunting, I think; to see it all at once rather than slowly built in. Like, I know objectively this is very cool, but—”

Tina hums with understanding. “Feels gutted?”

“Was gutted.” You nod. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like it, it’s just, I dunno. Adjustment period, all that.”

“I needed a second too, but Jeff is good. Change has been good.” You nod like you know who Jeff is. “Carmen, I mean.” Your nod is now significantly more understanding. She smiles, you’re a little surprised to see Tina’s got a lot more insight than she used to. She pulled the thought of Carmen right out of your subconscious before you even detected it for yourself. “He’s good. You’ll see.”

You nod. You know the good she means is not Michelin Star Good. You already know that. He’s Mikey good. Person good. You clear your throat. “How’s Louis?”

“Good. Y’know, he’s getting to that age, getting in trouble. S’been a while since he’s had a good influence.” She nudges you. There it is. There’s the poke. The ‘where have you been?’ The ‘it’s been a year’. The— “Y’know, Chef didn’t come to the funeral neither.”

That one you didn’t expect, your head swivels to her hard. “Carmen didn’t go?”

His brother didn’t go? Oh, who the fuck are you to judge...

She nods, practically with her whole body, she looks more amused than anything. But like, mom amused. The worst amused. “You’re both the sensitive type.”

You cock your head at her, raising a brow. Smirking slightly. “Wow, Tina, I thought you changed too but you still talk your shit, eh?”

“I’m not talking shit!” She laughs, hands up in defence. “I’m just saying, you’re alike.” You hope that the laughter makes her forget the topic but it doesn’t.

“Where have you been?” She softens. She’s not asking to be mean, she’s asking out of concern. Why does that make it feel worse?

You tuck your hands in your pockets and retrain your eyes on hers, even if it feels bad. “Thought time and distance would heal all wounds.”

“Did they?”

Before you can answer, “Pen delivery, cousin!” Richie returns, triumphantly, with a pen and pad held high in the sky. He makes you jump for it. You elbow him in the gut, not hard. “Fuck off, Rich…” He keels over enough for you to grab it. “Thank you, chef.”

You turn back to Tina, who you now realize has spent half her smoke break on you. She nods to you, and then the bathroom door. “I’ll let you get back to it.” You nod in return. When she turns to walk away, you grab her shoulder.

“Tina.” She turns again. You should say something. Something vulnerable and thankful. Words of affirmation are not your thing. But maybe they could be, “If you end up with a dead plate—” Or maybe not.

She grins, and part of you is concerned by this, but she waves you off, giggling like she knows something you don’t. Already walking off. “You’re gonna be taken care of, Terry, don’t worry.”

This is a bad new nickname scheme. The fridge guy is just gonna end up being called ‘fridge guy’ if you take all his names.

It’s maybe three hours later. 11 am ish. You’ve finally put the toilet back in place, the pipes fixed underground— Which is a huge win of progress, the problem is, it’s just seemed to open the toilet’s ability to have other problems that need to be addressed. There’s a strong chance you’ll be here until you die. And even after that, this stupid toilet will still be gurgling, outliving you.

But you seriously have to eat something, so you scrub yourself clean, set your safety equipment down, and head out of the bathroom for a much-needed stretch of the legs— And to hopefully get a plate from Tina.

On your way to the kitchen, you’re stopped and walked backwards to a booth in the corner by Richie. “Hey, Miss, happy to serve you today, my name’s Richard but you can call me Richie, how’re you doin’ this fine morning?”

They’ve yet to open front of house, so you play along, taking your seat with a laugh. “I’m doing perfect, Richie, how are you?”

He nudges the air . “Ey, better now that you’re here, ah? Can I get a drink started for you?”

“Really gonna practice your set on me?”

He shrugs, still smiling. “If you don’t use it, you lose it.”

You hum, then rub your temples, the headache is setting in— Not cause of him, just been a tough morning. “Just your coldest fuckin’ glass of water, Rich.”

“Right away, Cousin.” He slips off into the kitchen.

When the door swings open again, it’s not Richie coming with your ice water, but Carmen— It’s your first time seeing him since the walk-in. When you came in this morning with Syd, it was Nat that gave you the quick briefing on the schedule and goals for today.

“Tony.” He hums, corners of his mouth just slightly upturned. The nickname has stuck. Goddamn. He sets the water down in front of you, along with a plate— Covered by a cloche—Or the silver lid thing, whatever.

“Carmy.” You only mean to mimic his tone, but then cringe. “Is Carmy fine?”

He pauses mid slide into the booth, sitting across from you. He seemed all cool and collected and is now suddenly extremely caught off guard. Already sweaty. “Y-yeah, I’m better, thank you—”

“No, I meant—” It is so difficult to hold back laughter. You deserve an Oscar.

You’re not doing great to be fair but like, still, Oscar worthy attempt.

“I meant like, like is the nickname okay?”

The horrors just keep piling on his face, and you can’t help but feel guilty. No shit he feels like he’s starting on a lower playing field here. You knew his dead brother, you know his Head Chef, your first time meeting him was at quite possibly his lowest moment and biggest mistake— Of which you had to coax him out of, and now he’s misunderstanding every innocent question you have for a inquiry into his psyche.

He clears his throat for objectively too long of a time. “Carmy is fine. Tony is fine?”

“I’m doing okay, yeah.”

Thank God, he laughs, awkward sure but objectively amused.

You nod down to the covered plate, smiling, “Fuck is this?”

He leans forward in his seat to get a hand over the lid. “I, uh. Made you a thing. As thanks or like, an— an apology.”

Ah. That’s why Tina was laughing about you getting taken care of.

He lifts the lid, and what is revealed, if you weren’t careful, would be enough to make you cry. Thankfully, the shock registers as uproarious laughter, one that Carmen cannot help but join.

“What the fuck?”

Pork brisket sandwich. Something that Mikey made for you, specifically. Because you said one time you were more of a pork fan than beef and he absolutely lost it. In a cute way, though. Said ‘Oh, I’ll make you fuckin’ pork, alright?’ You’re not sure if he won or lost the argument, because you did find it better.

“I, uh, we had some cuts left over that we weren’t gonna be able to fuckin’ use, and uh, Tina showed me this, this recipe card, last night.” He slides over the very same brisket recipe Mikey had written down. Little doodles of angry faces and Xs over pigs in the margins.

“He was so fuckin’ mad.” You snort, looking at it. “All I fuckin’ said was I had a preference!”

“In The Beef!”

“He asked!” You quickly defend, through laughter. “And it tastes fucking good. All he did was prove my fuckin’ point— And spent hours doing it. Were you here overnight for this, slowcooking?”

He shakes his head, though there’s a hesitation in it— So you’re not privy to completely believe him. He sniffs, swiping at his nose “I, uh, just came in early. Had to fix some shit anyways.”

He’s staring at the sandwich, then occasionally you, expectantly. You look at him with equal expectance.

“Well?” You start.

“Well?” He astutely adds.

You nod down at the dish. “Do the thing.”

“The thing?”

You pick up one half of the sandwich, but you’ve got no plans of eating until he satisfies this craving first.

“The thing Syd does where she explains why she’s proud of her dish and why I should care. I know it’s Mikey’s, but you clearly made changes.”

“Oh. Uh…” He was both expecting and not expecting this soap box. “So, followed the rub to a T— Well, with a salt bed, this time. Put it on brioche instead of the old shit. And I uh, added uhm—” He snaps his fingers, staring at the sandwich in your hand. “Added pickled red onion, for acid and sweet, and garlic confit. I’m—I’m happy with my spin on it.”

You whistle as a form of praise, he flushes with a glow of pride and is desperately trying to not show it. He’s proud because it’s curated, personal. Ah, he is Mikey good. You nod and take a bite, trying to control your reaction. Worst part about having Artists as friends (especially chefs): They fucking stare so hard when you’re taking in their work. And they’re over analyzing every micro expression. He’s no different.

Fuck. It’s fucking good. Is it bad that it’s better than anything Mikey ever made? Nah, that’s how he’d want it.

“Ah fuck, that sucks—” Is the first thing you say, and his face falls, “Expensive food is worth it.” Right back up. Easy to please. “It’s really good, Chef. Thank you. Did you try it yet?”

He shakes his head, so you push the plate with the other half of the sandwich— It’s brisket, anyways. You’ll be full by the end of this one. Portions generous. He looks momentarily hesitant, which is cute, but inevitably leans forward and takes the sandwich. He nods with each chew.

He hums when he finishes chewing, pointing emphatically at you, though his voice is neutral. “You don’t like something, though.”

“What?”

“What’s wrong with it?” He stares at into the cross section of his bite. “Chewy? Texture?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” You’re quick to deny.

He shakes his head, hand over his mouth to hide the sauce on his mouth. “M’not gonna be hurt.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the dish, Carmen.” You take another bite to prove your point. Also you’re hungry. Two things can be true.

He zones in on the emphasis immediately. “It’s the plate, isn’t it? I told Syd—”

“Your tables aren’t bolted.” You interrupt, swiftly. Mouth semi-full.

“Huh?”

You put your sandwich down and swallow, taking your time with it. “Your booth tables.”

You knock on the pristine wood with the joints of your left hand. You swivel your body to look under the table, he follows suit, meeting you there. His left leg has been violently shaking, but he’s thought you wouldn’t notice it until now.

You put a hand on his knee to stop the shaking. He bristles, slightly, but you’re not even doing it on purpose. Your focus isn’t on him. It was making the table imperceptibly shift— Which, of course, you clocked. You tap your foot to the bottom of the table leg. No screws. “They aren’t bolted down.”

You lift yourself back up, moving your hand back to yourself in tandem. He stares at it for a little longer. How you noticed that, he will never know. Repairmen are a different breed…

“I just thought it was a weird choice. Nothing wrong with it, per say. Maybe you wanna test different layouts.” You shrug, taking another bite.

“The booths aren’t bolted either.” He adds, lifting his head up above the table, finally. “I don’t— we’re not gonna fuck with the layout, I don’t think.”

“Should get Fak on that, then.”

“Fak’s big-timing us.” You cock your brow, mid chew. He explains. “He’s focusing on hosting, f'now.”

You nod, swallowing, hand in front of your mouth so you can lick the sauce off your upper lip in non-humiliated peace. “This another job for me, then?”

“If you’ll take it.”

“If your fuckin’ toilet doesn’t kill me, I will.”

“How’s that going?”

You shake your hand so-so. “Ask me in two to three hours how it’s going.”

“Heard.” He sighs, leaning back in the booth. The stress is too apparent not to ask.

“How’s the second day open going?”

“I’m not in a fuckin’ freezer, so that’s a win.” Oh-ho, he’s acknowledging it. You were very comfortable forgetting that moment for his sake. “Thanks, uh, f’ that.”

You shake your head, shrugging off the thanks. You lift your last few bites of the sandwich to him. “You’re good. You’ve gifted me brisket. You relax since?”

“Not really.” He replies bluntly, taking a deep inhale. He pulls at his face from the top down, with both hands. Oof. Bad sign. “I think I’ll be good by tomorrow. Gonna get off early, tonight.”

“You don’t seem happy about that.”

“Ask me in two t’ three days if I’m happy about it.”

Back to work and this is taking so much fucking longer than it needs to take. Why is there tape there? Fucking Richie. Fucking Fak. Fucking Mikey. Godssake. Pipes are fixed. Water pressure is fixed. What the fuck is still wrong with it? What the fuck is wrong with you? Everyone is going to hate you if you can’t fix this. You’ve been here for like 5 hours and you can’t figure out what’s fucking wrong here? You’re nothing. You’re—

The toilet does you the favour of knocking you out of your episode by spraying you in the fucking face, soaking through the top of your jumpsuit. With a groan, you unzip the upper half and tie the wet sleeves around your waist. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

Maybe you just need a change in task for a second. Also, a new t-shirt, because your tank did not survive the waterworks either. This room isn’t the thing you need right now. You slip down the hall to the kitchen. “Who needs a coffee? Or water?”

There’s a chorus of orders, all of which sound like you’ve just asked ‘who wants a gift from God?’, which, you might as well have. This is what you like about being a handyman. The relief you bring. You just need a smidge of praise to get through the rest of this job. You’ve got this.

The small, but serviceable coffee machine in very back of the kitchen calls your name, but Richie sticks his arm out, blocking you from walking past expo up front.

“Hol’ up, Cousin, you look like a fuckin’ wet dog.”

“Well, what ‘ya gonna do about it?” You retort, despite the retort not honestly making any sense, you put your hands on your hips. “Do you want a fuckin’ coffee or not?”

He rolls his eyes, falling back onto the balls of his feet before walking off. “Ey, Sug, are those shirts still in the basement—”

You’ve won for now. You scrub your hands clean before getting to work. This is good. Oooh, Marcus has fresh coffee beans (that he’s willing to share!)— This is easy. You can already fix most broken things, but a machine that actually fucking works? Baby, you can make that sing.

Plus, the bartending gigs you’ve done don’t make you a barista by any means, but they certainly don’t hurt. Oooh, Marcus has syrups! Fuck it. Steamed and frothed milk. That toilet has you on your ass, you need to go above and beyond here. Make each cup personal. You need a win in the form of admiration.

You gather a tray of coffees (and a water for Sweeps, who is too fucking sweaty for a hot drink right now, so fair), all varying in milks, sugars, syrups, intensity. “Coffee run, I hand ‘em out, don’t just take! Corner!”

Ebra, to no one’s shock, likes his coffee black— But, and he’ll tell no one this, you just know it on instinct— He likes it a little too watery. “Good.” Who are you to judge? He likes what he likes.

Tina would take hers black for simplicity, if you let her, but of course you don’t. 2 sugars, foamed milk, chocolate and cinnamon syrup. “Too good to me.” It’s too worth it, when she says it like that and slaps your cheek. Balm of the soul.

Marcus, who watched you make these, did opt to let his imagination run too wild and added one of every syrup to his own cup, wanting to experiment with you. It doesn’t taste good. You switch it for a spiced coffee when he’s not looking. He’s silently very thankful.

After handing out a few more to the new cooks, you come up to Syd. “Take this one, take this one.” Then whisper, so no one knows you are displaying supreme favouritism. “It’s the one oat milk latte I made.”

She turns to you from her station, then darts looks over her shoulder like she’s making an under the table deal before grabbing it from you. She takes a delighted sip, eyes rolling just slightly in the relief of caffeine, she nods. “Fire, Chef.” Ah. This will get you through the day alone.

It also gets you through the willpower it takes to ignore Fak running by you to steal a coffee off your tray. Out of the corner of your eye, you point to the one meant for him— As if you didn’t make it for him, c’mon…

“How’s bathroom?” Syd asks, taking another long sip.

I’m going to fucking explode, not unlike your drainage pipe. “Needed a thinking break, but I’ve made a lot of progress. How’s kitchen?”

“Made a lot of progress. Auto-piloting through this prep.” She looks down at her cutting board, cracking back to it. “Latte helps, a lot, thank you. You should join for family, if you’re still here for it. Unless you don’t want more brisket.”

Fuck. She doesn’t think you’re so slow that you’re gonna be here until family, does she? “Yeah, maybe.” You look around, three coffees still on the tray. “...Where’s Carmen?”

She grimaces. Uh oh. The tension she glossed over at breakfast is still definitely there. She nods her head to the back door. “Smoke break. Or temper tantrum. I don’t fuckin’ know. Don’t tell him I said that.” You laugh, nodding. “You think a coffee would help—” “Please.”

“Corner!” Yells Richie, returning to you. He silently flicks out a shirt for you, holding it up proudly, ‘THE BERF’ stares back at you. You give it a solid five seconds to process before you say anything.

“Collector’s item...” You nod, tone sarcastically impressed. You pivot your shoulder for him to throw it over, hands too busy.

“That’s what I fuckin’ said!” He throws it over your shoulder. “No one fuckin’ listens, these days.”

You bite back laughter and nod, handing him his coffee. Hot. Dark. Two sugars. And, to his delighted surprise, a touch of cinnamon syrup. “Oh, fuck, missed your twists, Chip.”

You wince at what was a long-forgotten nickname, and so does Richie. Funny how remembering origins can do that to you. He’d just said it so instinctively, really. “My bad—”

“Chip is good.” You interrupt, rolling your shoulders back. And it is good, really. “It’s kinda—It’s kinda comforting.” It’s nice to not forget. He nods, and you give each other the ‘we are still so fucked, eh?’ smile before lovingly bumping shoulders as he returns to expo and you head to the back alley.

Carmen’s squatting, cigarette in one hand, creating a halo of smoke around him, and his phone in the other. He snaps out of his mental fog when the door opens, slipping his phone into the pocket of his apron like he’s got a secret to hide.

You hesitate at the doorway, maybe this is not the moment. “Sorry, Chef, I just wanted to offer a coffee? If you need air alone—”

“No, no, I’m good—” He’s quick to correct, then even quicker to correct himself. “I— I’ll take a coffee, I mean. You can stay, s’fine.”

He reaches for it when you sit next to him, but you pull the tray back to hand him the correct one. “Sorry, I—I like, did a thing, for yours. I dunno how you take your coffee, so I thought I’d do it weird.”

He takes the cup, eying it curiously. “Do it weird?”

“Do it like, like a Chef. Can’t make anything fuckin’ simple. The lot of you.”

He hums, amused, staring at the cup, then looks at you expectantly. “Well?”

“Well?”

“Do the thing.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Oh, fuck off.”

“C’mon, tell me why I should care.” He teases.

“Ah, fuck.” You sniff, oh to have your own words turned on you. Looking at the coffee in his hands, “I figured you’d like strong black coffee, but like, complex. So, it’s got like, cardamom and lavender n’ maple syrup. Shout out Marcus.” He smiles. “And then, I know I did just say black coffee but I wanted the aesthetic so I spooned foamed milk on top and sprinkled on some dried lavender.” You take your own cup in hand, putting the tray down. “If you hate it, we’ll trade.”

He pays close attention to your explanation. Man, his eye contact is simultaneously so soft and so scary. He takes a sip. Let’s it sit in his mouth for a second. “Excellent, Chef.”

Oh, if Syd’s ‘Fire’ could get you through the day, Carmen’s ‘Excellent’ will get you through the week to spare. You hide the way you beam by drinking your own coffee.

“How’re you doing?” It’s far too obvious that he’s had something heavy on his head all day, but you’re not going to say the quiet part loud, yet.

He takes a long time to respond. “I, uh…” And when he does, it’s weak. “I’m alright, yeah. I’m alright.”

You nod repeatedly, digesting the huge lie. “Ask me how I’m doing.”

He squints. “��How’re you—”

“Fuckin’ terrible, Carm.” You cut him off, putting your cup down next to him, standing up. You speak emphatically, gesturing with your whole body.

“I’m at my wits, Chef. Completely out of my depth. I fix the main pipe, I fix the water pressure, I triple check the tank, I fuckin’ power cycle the valve— I’m absolutely at a loss as to why it’s still gurgling— Why it shot water straight at my tits— Close your eyes, if you care, by the way.”

With barely any warning you peel off your tank top, you’ve got a bra, it’s fine. It’s very cute that he still looks away. You slip the new shirt over your head as you speak, muffling the words.

“—I’m wearing a shirt that says Berf, and the only way I can feel any semblance of not being utterly useless is by making coffees so good everyone has to praise me for them. And now I’m telling the fucking owner, my boss for the day all this.”

He nods, slowly. There is perhaps, not a single person in his life that has ever been this forthright. Someone he hasn’t had to over-analyze or dig into to figure out what’s actually going on. It is refreshing, terrifying, and for some reason, removing your walls have completely shattered his.

“So.” You lower your head to his level where he sits. “How are you doing, Chef?”

He takes a long sip of his coffee. Stews on the question before he spills his guts, calmly. “I’m sitting outside of the restaurant I started that I own, and my brother should be here, but he’s not and— And I was locked in a fuckin’ freezer on my opening night, which was my own fuckin’ fault— And the tape is wrong and the painting is stupid and that new hire did meth so now we’re down one.” He takes a deep breath.

“And we have Heinz instead of Frenchies, and it’s fine. That’s the fucked part— It’s fine. The ship did not sink without me— It went fine. Better, maybe. My problems aren’t fuckin’ problems. I’m just making it worse for myself— everyone. And I know Syd is mad at me, and I know my— My girlfriend? Is mad at me, and I know that I’m gonna break up with her tonight because I’m not meant to be— that.” He says the last part fast, more to himself than you, really. And then he finally looks back up at you.

“And I’m telling all of this to the person who saved me from hypothermia and a fuckin’—Fuckin’ meltdown, who probably thinks— knows that I’m a psycho.”

You take a beat before nodding, sitting next to him again, arms crossed. Silent. Contemplative. “I have thoughts.”

He nods, taking a drag. “Don’t pull punches.”

“Well, to start most honestly, we must remember, I love Syd. So, I’m not gonna mince about her.”

“Heard.”

You recall everything Sydney had told you at breakfast. The recap of how she got to this point. “Syd isn’t mad at you, she’s disappointed and distrustful.”

He grimaces. “That sounds worse.”

“It is.”

“Oh.”

“But in a way you can fix.”

“How?”

“Handle shit different. Actually show up to shit and make calls. Manage your priorities by urgency— Not by favourites. If I broke my fuckin’ arm and your ‘girlfriend’ had a runny nose, who are you taking to the hospital?”

“You can’t take yourself?”

“Bitch?”

“Kidding. Heard. What else?”

“You’re not gonna tell her I said this because she would rather die than tell someone she wants something.” You lean closer to him, peeking over your shoulder to make sure no one’s secretly come from the kitchen. You knock into his knees.

He takes another drag, short, choked. “Sure.”

“You were kind of a bitch about the menu.”

“The chaos menu? She said—”

“She fucking lied. She lied when she said it was fine, Carm, it does not take a psychic to read Syd’s mind.” You interrupt, taking a sip of your coffee. “She was so excited to get to build a menu, especially with—” you, “—a partner, and then you completely ditched her. And then you just made your own! Total control freak shit! Cut her out of the fun part of being head chef completely! You get to invent masterpieces and she picks out the best cheap plate? Fuck is that?”

He nods contemplatively, poking his inner cheek. “Yeah, that, that makes sense. That’s shitty.” He turns his gaze from looking ahead to face you, hand over the bottom half of his face. “What else?”

“You’re reactive.”

“No shit.”

“How long do you think you were locked in the walk-in for?”

He swallows, thinking. “Like… an hour?”

“It had been 23 minutes.”

“Oh.”

“You catastrophize, it’s a fancy therapy word,” You cannot help but be impressed by this white man writing down the word in his phone for later. “It means, basically, when something bad happens you blow it completely out of proportion into something it isn’t. Your opening night was definitely a bummer from being in a freezer— But be honest with yourself, would you have let yourself have a good night if you weren’t in there?”

“…No.”

“No. Which is also bad. Which brings me to my key point.”

He tenses up, preparing for you to rip into him further.

“You’re doing a good job, Carmy.”

He immediately swivels back to you, almost dropping his phone. Knee knocking into yours. “Fuck off.”

“I will not.”

“You just said I was a catastrophe.”

“Fully not what I said.”

“I read between the lines.”

“Carmen.”

You take a breath, putting your arms on your knees, bent over. “The restaurant is beautiful, your cooks are talented and they’re prepared— So prepared that they can handle 23 minutes without you. That’s a good thing. You’re threaded into The Bear— The ship didn’t sink, not because you weren’t there, but because you had been. Everyone had the tools they needed to succeed, even with Heinz, a Mid painting, and torn tape. And listen—” You take one last sip of your coffee. “You need to check your ego if you think you’re the first man I’ve coaxed through a panic attack while doing a repair.”

He laughs, half-heartedly. He scratches his nose. “Heard. Yeah, thank you, Chef.”

“I don’t know shit about the meth thing though, I really couldn’t tell you.” You smile when this coaxes a better laugh out of him. You’re considering a career in stand up exclusively for him because it feels like such a reward to hear it.

“And the girl?” He asks. Amusement tinging but leaving his voice.

You click your teeth, shrugging your shoulders at him. “Based purely on your hesitation to say girlfriend, I’d say yeah, probably not ready for a relationship.” You reach your hand out to his shoulder when he flops his head down. “But, just asking, is this your first relationship?”

He thinks for too long before nodding slightly. “First one.”

“First restaurant too?”

He nods again.

“Yeah.” You pat his shoulder before letting it go, opting to hold your cooling cup. “I know you’re a Michelin star fuckin’ big deal but like, me personally, I can’t name a thing I got perfect the first time I did it.”

There’s something in his eyes, when you say that. Something wistful, nostalgic, hurt? No. Something different.

“It’s not that I didn’t do perfect—”

“You’ll do better next time.”

He wrings his hands together between his knees. “Yeah.”

“You’re gonna be fine, Carm.”

“You’re good at that.” He sniffs, head down, scratching his nose.

“At what? Self-help?”

He exhales what just barely sounds like a laugh. “Kinda. S’just, when you say it, you say it in a way where I actually believe it.”

You’re getting the fuck out of here before they open for dinner. You’re not letting anyone down tonight motherfucker. The Berf shall prevail. Maybe a win here will feel like a win for Carmen, too.

You run the sink to wash your hands, as you’ve done before here— But since fixing the pipes and the pressure… Something’s… different. You pause your scrubbing, listening closely.

…

When the sink is running, the gurgling flow of water from the toilet stops. Huh. You stop and start the faucet a few times to verify this. Yeah. You stare for a long moment before connecting the dots, then punch the sink in realization.

“Fucking Mikey!”

“What’d he do this time?”

You twist around. Ah, other sibling. Natalie. Clipboard in hand, business ready. You take a beat before remembering to smile, nodding to the sink behind you. “He connected the tank flow to the toilet and the sink with one wire.”

She tilts her head, squinting. “Why would he do that?”

“I suspect to save water?” You spin around, kneeling down to look behind the sink. “I think the idea was to have the sink not function when the toilet is flushing. But, it uh, well, did the reverse, kinda. Toilet doesn’t function when the sink isn’t running.”

“Oh.”

“So uh,” You shut the valve under the sink. “Your water bill should go down a little after this, since it won’t be running into what is an essentially a second trap pipe.”

“Oh!” Did she get what you said? No. But she doesn't need to. She heard ‘bill should go down’ and that’s really all she needed. “Thank you!”

“Not a problem. S’my job.” You stand, shutting off the valve to the toilet as well. As you kneel down to work again, you feel her gaze burning into your back. You don’t turn to face her. “You have questions.”

“Oh, ah… Am I so obvious—?”

“Yes.” You’re too quick to answer, unbolting the wires where it attaches to the toilet and the ground. You sniff with a panicked, “Ah, uh, it’s endearing.”

She’s quiet, for a moment. She doesn’t ask you what she actually wants to ask you, and you know that. “Well, I’ll need to exchange info for your invoice.”

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout that, your brother already covered it.” You stand once more, before going to the sink to undo it’s valve, you fish through the deep pocket of your jumpsuit, pulling out a crumpled business card and handing it to her.

“But it’s good to have my info on hand, for sure. It’s ah… Kinda old.” Kinda is an understatement. Your dad’s name is still on it, scribbled out in pen and replaced with yours. The dead business line is also scribbled out in exchange for your personal cell.

“It’s uh… I usually only work for friends and family, these days, so I’ve kinda stopped trying to keep up appearances.”

She smiles at it. Thank God, she finds it charming and not sloppy. She tucks it into the clasp of her clipboard. “That’s fine, we are friends and family.”

All you can do is nod, pivoting to the sink. There's a beat of peace.

“Didn’t see you at the funeral.”

Ah. There it is. For a Bear, she sure knows how to poke one. You stutter in unscrewing the bolt.

“Would’ve been nice to meet you, then.”

You clear your throat, it's strangled. “Yeah, I think I was trying to avoid introductions, honestly. Grief comes in different ways, eh?”

“Does it?”

“Mine does.” You swallow, unbolting the wire. With it free, you can just yank it out of the wall. God, forgive your brain, but Mikey was right, she does like to fight. Too bad you don’t.

She just hums in reply, watching you pull the wire from the wall. “You’re a real lifesaver.”

Fuck. Fuck. Lifesaver? Is she fucking with you?

“That toilet sprayed me right in the face, yesterday. And you saved Carmen.” There’s an amused lilt to her voice. She’s not fucking with you. “There’s something about a handywoman that Fak cannot match.”

You can hear a faint ‘Hey!’ through the walls. You laugh through an exhale.

“Again, s’my job. I do my best. Did uh, what was it, Terry come by for the walk-in? I wasn’t looking when I was there.”

You sort through your tools, deciding caulking the holes closed is probably the best option.

“He came over basically overnight to fix it, bless him, still don’t know his name.”

You laugh, it’s a little strangled. So Carmen did stay overnight. He must’ve. You smooth out the caulk with your thumb and a palette knife. Blending it into the grout as best as you can. “Good. Good.”

You dust yourself off. Standing. “Well. That’s uh. That’s my job done. Carmen asked me about—”

“Bolting down the booths?” She nods, checking the time on her watch. There’s not enough time before lunch to do it now. Plus you don’t have the screws. “You’re free to come by in the morning tomorrow—”

“But?” You interrupt, throwing your tool bag over your shoulder.

“But?”

“You said free like you’ve got a preference, what do you prefer?”

She chuckles, slightly. There is something about you that feels familiar. “If you could come after close tonight around 12, that would be nice—”

“It’s done. I’ll be there.”

“Lifesaver. I'll give you the code.”

Fuck.

Always gotta give the reader/mc some sort of mysterious background that even you don't have all the info on. Always.

Hehehehe, again, we're slowing this burn so much. Strangers to Friends to lovers but they're both so comfortable in friends it's hard to move !!

Forewarning, btw, if you've already sunk 10k worth of words into your brain for me (thank you!! I hope you've enjoyed!!), I've never written smut before and I feel like I probably will not build up the courage to do so by the end of this series, but I could prove myself wrong, I dunno. But warning in case that's your thing!! I might blue ball you babe!!

Pretty please tell me your thoughts or I'll eat my Berf shirt. Collector's value!! Thrown away!!

Next Part

[mrs-dr-reid]

Scary Dog Privilege

(A Wolverine Fic)

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader

Summary: The reader practically begs Logan to be her fake boyfriend at a gala, but ends up getting more than she bargained for

Genre: Fluffy throughout, a teensy bit angsty near the end, and a dash of "oh my god, just KISS ALREADY!!!" sprinkled in pretty much everywhere

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive language, fake boyfriend trope, friends to lovers, oblivious idiots in love, more than platonic touches, tw food/alcohol, crying, protective!Logan, the image of Logan in a tux (yes, that's a warning), Tony Stark being... himself, a Hugh Jackman-sized Wolverine and an average/small reader (size difference, yaaaaay)

A/N: Big thanks to @snixkers for being my designated Wolvie Beta Reader, as well as a handful of buddies in my writers discord for helping me turn the head words into page words (you know who you are).

Word Count: 4419

———————————————————————

This is going to be a disaster, Y/N thought as she stared hopelessly at the event notification on her phone: Superhero Gala tonight!!!

It was her least favorite day of the year, even though on paper it was a good thing. All of the Avengers and all the X-Men getting together and hosting a gala fundraiser to raise money for a different cause every year, as well as “celebrate the spirit of collaboration among heroes” or whatever preachy bullshit Charles is always on about.

She just knew that she’d inevitably be stuck getting hit on by drunken aristocratic strangers in a dress she didn’t want to be wearing, just like every other year. She’d much rather be honing her abilities or reading a book, but attendance was mandatory for every adult living at the mansion, much to her chagrin.

Y/N paced the length of her bedroom, worrying about her certain doom, when she got an idea. It wasn’t a very good idea, but it was better than no idea at all. She stuffed her phone in her back pocket, then ventured down to the kitchen where she was hoping she’d find who she was looking for, and she was right.

Logan was sitting at the island munching on a piece of toast and nursing a flask of what she assumed was whiskey, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. She said, “Howlett, I need to talk to you in private.”

Logan looked up from his breakfast and said, “Good morning to you too, L/N,” mostly unbothered by her request.

Y/N rolled her eyes and said, “NOW, please.”

He raised a hand in surrender and said, “Alright, Bossy Pants,” before following her into the other room away from the prying ears of Jean, Scott, and Ororo.

Once they were out of earshot, Y/N said, “Okay, I’m gonna ask you to do something kinda weird, but I promise if you do it, I’ll never ask you for anything else ever again.”

Logan raised a questioning eyebrow at her. “Okay?”

She took a deep breath. “I need you to be my scary dog privilege tonight at the gala.”

The request hung in the air between them as Logan tried to process what the hell she just said to him. “You need me to be your what?”

Y/N sighed exasperatedly, then elaborated. “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend so the sleazy rich assholes leave me alone!” before steepling her hands and giving him her best puppy dog pout.

Logan wasn’t swayed, and he crossed his arms. “Why me? Couldn’t you ask McCoy?” Y/N glared at him, annoyed that he was being so difficult.

“Yes, I could ask Hank, but Hank is a teddy bear! You’re tall, you’re intimidating, it’s somewhat believable that we’d be together, and you have claws. And if you don’t do this, I promise you that if even one slimeball approaches me, I will use the ‘what not to do’ section of the Geneva Convention as a to-do list! So will you be my fake boyfriend or not?!”

Both of Logan’s eyebrows went up at this, and he said, “As entertainin’ as that would be, Chuck would probably ground you for committin’ war crimes against a civilian,” before starting to walk back to the kitchen.

In a panic, Y/N blabbed, “I’ll smuggle in cigars and booze for you for a month!” which stopped him in his tracks. Gotcha, Wolvie.

He turned back around, let out a groan in the back of his throat at the hopeful smile on Y/N’s face, then said, “Fine. But just this once,” before sticking out a hand to shake. She grinned, then shook his hand, trying her best to not think about how his hand completely engulfed hers or how warm and rough it was.

That evening, Logan was waiting at the bottom of the stairs alongside Scott for Jean and Y/N to come down, both men in sharp black tuxedos.

Scott said, “So, you’re L/N’s date tonight, huh?” with a shit-eating grin on his face, so Logan rolled his eyes, tugging at the collar of her dress clothes slightly. “She made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Literally. If I refused, she was gonna kill the first stranger who told her she was pretty.”

Scott chuckled. “Yeah, sounds about right.” Then he fell silent, so Logan followed his gaze and tried to ignore the weird tug in the pit of his stomach when he saw Y/N trailing behind Jean. She looked like a completely different person than the woman he bantered with every day.

Her hair fell in a halo of perfect waves around her shoulders, her makeup was done to perfection, diamond studs decorated her ears, and her dress… oh, that dress.

While its rhinestone-encrusted fabric covered every inch of her body except her collarbone and her hands, it hugged every curve like it was made especially for her (and it probably was). The slight padding of the shoulders and the emerald green hue made her look almost ethereal, and the matching shoes he could see peeking out from under the hem with every step she took added to the effect, though he wasn’t sure why.

Y/N stopped in front of him. “Well, you clean up nice, Howlett,” and adjusted his tie (which just so happened to match her dress). That snapped him out of his reverie before he cleared his throat. “You too, L/N. Shall we?”

He offered her his arm, and she took it. “Let’s get this over with,” before letting him lead her into the ballroom.

After he had initially agreed to this admittedly crazy scheme, Logan and Y/N had gone over different forms of PDA that they were each comfortable with. Y/N had told Logan that he could do whatever he needed to do to sell it, whereas he was more hesitant to give her carte blanche, only allowing lingering arm and shoulder touches or a kiss on the cheek if the situation desperately called for it.

Logan instantly clocked the bar the second they stepped foot inside, and before he could say anything, Y/N quipped, “I need to be drunk half an hour ago, let’s move,” and started pulling him towards the bar, causing him to let out a snort as he allowed her to drag him along.

He ordered a whiskey on the rocks while she stuck with a vodka soda, and after they were given their drinks, Logan said, “Say what you want about Stark. At least he has the decency to spring for an open bar, and it’s the good shit,” while swirling the liquid in his glass.

Y/N snickered and said, “I’ll drink to that.” She held her glass up for cheers, and Logan clinked his glass against hers, then downed about half of his whiskey in one swig.

Y/N had to blink to rid the image of his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed from her mind, then she downed her drink as well. “Well, we better go find Charles and the others.”

He nodded in agreement, then put a hand at the small of her back as they ventured into the center of the room. Y/N spotted Charles amongst a circle of Avengers and X-Men including Captain America, Black Widow, and Iron Man as well as Hank, Scott, Jean, and Rogue. The two of them approached the circle, and Y/N said, “Partying hard or hardly partying?”

Charles looked away from the tall, blond man Y/N recognized from last year as Steve Rogers at the sound of her voice, then said, “Ah! There you two are! Logan, Y/N, I’m sure you remember Captain Rogers, Miss Romanoff, and Mr. Stark from last year’s benefit,” and gestured between them.

Y/N smiled and said, “Of course. It’s great to see you again,” while shaking each of their hands, earning a “Likewise” from Steve, a nod from Natasha, and a smirk from Tony. He was surely about to say something lewd, but Logan stuck his hand out to shake just in time. “Mighty nice of ya to foot the bill on some decent booze, Stark,” his arm snaking protectively around Y/N’s waist.

If Charles and the other X-Men didn’t clock it, which was highly unlikely, they thankfully said nothing about it, but Tony recovered quickly enough that it wasn’t necessary anyway. He shook Logan’s hand and said, “Of course. Only the best for the best, amiright?” before shooting a wink in Y/N’s direction.

Logan bristled slightly, so Y/N took that as an opportunity to place a hand on his chest and say, “Lo, I believe I was promised a dance?” raising her eyebrows pointedly at him.

He said, “Right, yeah, absolutely, Doll Face. Nice seeing you again, but duty calls. Boyfriend duty, that is,” nodded at Steve and Natasha, then shot an almost gloating wink in Tony’s direction before giving Y/N his arm and whisking her off to the dance floor.

As they left, Y/N swore she heard Scott whisper incredulously, “‘Boyfriend’’?!” and Jean smack him in the chest, which made her stomach flip slightly at the thought that only Scott questioned the arrangement.

As they reached the dance floor, Y/N took note of the string quartet a few paces from the floor. “Open bar, and live entertainment? That Stark sure knows how to throw a party.”

Logan rolled his eyes and huffed, “If he took hints as good as he threw parties, then we’d be in business,” before he remembered that he wasn’t actually Y/N’s boyfriend, and there was no reason for him to be that pissed. So why was he?

Y/N said, “He’s the outlier in this situation. I’ve clocked at least eight different guys that have made to come talk to me, but immediately backtracked once they noticed you standing right next to me. I should bribe you to be my scary dog privilege more often!”

He just scoffed. “Yeah, yeah, don’t hold your breath,” but there was still a hint of a smile on his face as they joined the other couples waiting for the next song.

The musicians took up their instruments and began playing again, so Logan extended a hand to Y/N and said, “May I have this dance?” while raising a teasing eyebrow at her. She smiled, then took it and replied, “You may.”

He grinned before spinning her into his arms, a peal of laughter escaping her as she collided with his solid chest in a very ungraceful manner.

She giggled, “Logan!” He shrugged and said, “Gotta keep you on your toes somehow, don’t I?” neither of them acknowledging that she used his first name.

They kept dancing, Logan periodically making comments about the people around them just to hear her melodic laughter, and to any outsider, they looked just like any other couple; young (or seemingly young in Logan’s case) and in love, even though that wasn’t the case.

When the song ended, Y/N let out a breathless sigh and said, “I’m gonna go get a drink. Do you want anything?”

Logan held up a hand and said, “Nah, I’ve got all night to drink Stark outta house and home. Thank you, though.” Y/N nodded with a smile, then went to head for the bar, but Logan stopped her with a hand on her waist.

He said, “Hang on a sec, Doll,” then held her chin in place with his first two fingers and brushed some rogue strands of hair away from her face before murmuring, “There we go. Perfect.”

Y/N fought to keep a blush from staining her cheeks as she thanked him, then she scampered away to the bar after telling him she’d be back soon, hoping to god he didn’t notice the spike in her heart rate.

She reached the bar and ordered another vodka soda, somewhat breathlessly. As she waited, she ended up overanalyzing all that had transpired thus far, and she couldn’t make sense of any of it. Logan’s protectiveness around someone he knew wasn’t a threat? Going out of his way to play the Boyfriend Card in front of their teammates and collaborators? The pet names? The way he’s been looking at her since they stepped foot inside the ballroom?

As she was going through all of this, an unfamiliar man sidled up next to her at the bar and tried to strike up a conversation, much to Y/N’s dismay.

“Hey there, I’m Jeffrey. Did they give you a name to go with that pretty face?” and she just barely contained a gag/cringe combo before telling him her name. He smiled a bit too wide to be genuine, then said, “Can I order you a drink?” so she said, “I already ordered. And I promised my boyfriend I’d come find him as soon as I got it, so…,” and craned her neck to search for the bartender.

Jeffrey scoffed.“Some boyfriend he is, letting a lady like you wander off by herself.” That made Y/N inhale sharply. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, and he’s well aware of that,” she said curtly, silently daring him to say one more stupid thing so she could knock him into next month.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak again, his voice faltered and his eyes trailed up to someone much taller than her. She didn’t have the chance to turn around before the familiar scent of pine, whiskey, and tobacco filled her nostrils and a pair of lips pressed a kiss to her jaw.

Logan husked out right next to her ear, “Hey, Baby. Thought you were gonna come find me once you got your drink. Dinner’s about to start.” One of his hands slid around to rest against her stomach protectively, so she placed a hand on his arm and said, “I was! It just got busy, I guess. We had the home-front advantage earlier,” trying to pretend like she wasn’t silently losing her mind over what he’d just done and praying to whatever deity existed that he couldn’t smell her body’s reaction to what had just occurred.

She turned her head to look at him, and he smiled at her before nodding his head in Jeffrey’s direction and saying, “Who’s this punk?”

She shot a quick glare at the man in question, then looked back up at Logan. “Just someone who is very lucky you showed up when you did,” she said with a smile before going up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

The bartender arrived with her drink not a moment too soon, and as she grabbed it, said, “It was nice to meet you, Jeffrey,” and then let Logan lead her back to their designated table, choosing to ignore how Logan looked over his shoulder and snarled at the man as they walked away.

Dinner thankfully went off without any hitches, but since Y/N and Logan were seated next to each other, the constant whiffs she got of Logan's unique (and intoxicating) musk whenever he so much as shifted in his chair were driving her insane. Not to mention the absentminded circles he was drawing on her leg under the table, which he didn’t need to do since nobody could see.

Just as she thought she’d be able to beeline it to somebody’s office or the bathroom or anywhere else to hide, Jean pulled her aside while asking to talk to her in private, making her think a string of expletives that she was well aware Jean could still hear as she allowed herself to be dragged to an unoccupied corner of the ballroom.

Once they were away from listening ears, Jean said, “Okay, what is going on between you and Logan? Yesterday you were threatening to shove him off the roof, and now you two are all over each other! And don’t even try to lie,” while raising a questioning eyebrow. Y/N let out a petulant whine, but Jean shot her a look that Y/N liked to call “The Mom Glare”, so she let out a loud sigh and explained everything, her voice growing more hysterical with every word:

“Okay, I bribed Logan into being my fake boyfriend for the night to keep the creeps away, and I told him to do whatever he needed to do so people would believe it, but I realized that I like what he’s been doing way too much for us to be just friends, and I’m losing my goddamn mind, Jean!”

Jean put her hands on Y/N’s arms to ground her and said, “Whoa, calm down. What exactly has he done that’s got you so worked up?” Y/N let out a mildly panicked laugh, then said, “For starters, if he was within arms reach of me, his hands were on me. He was being super protective of me in front of Tony even though we all know he could snap the Tin Man like a toothpick if he wanted to. He kissed me on the jaw earlier when some sleazeball was hitting on me by the bar, then snarled at him as we walked away. And to top it off, he was drawing circles on my leg under the table at dinner, and I’m not convinced he realized he was doing it, because I did nothing to stop him. Ugh, this is so complicated!”

Jean made a confused face at this. “Why does it have to be complicated? You two clearly have feelings for each other that are more than platonic. And if I may, he agreed to this crazy scheme of yours, didn’t he? At least some part of him feels the same way about you.” This earned another whine from Y/N.

She started rambling, “I don’t want this to change our relationship! I mean, yeah, I’ve had a crush on him for years because I’m not blind, but we’re just friends! And we’ve always been just friends! We bust each other's chops, we affectionately threaten each other with violence, we smuggle contraband into the school for each other even though Charles absolutely knows we’re doing it, so there’s literally no reason for us to be so secretive about it. I can’t just throw that away because I’m in love with him!”

Unfortunately, she didn’t notice Jean’s face pale or her attempts to get her to stop talking until a familiar deep voice said, “You’re in love with me?”

Y/N’s blood ran cold, and she turned around to see Logan standing there with a confused expression on his face. Her stomach clenched, and she said meekly, “How much of that did you hear?” hoping he wouldn’t say what she thought he was going to say, and bracing herself for the worst.

“Everything after ‘complicated’.” Fuck.

A whimper escaped her throat, and she heard Jean scamper off behind her. She sighed and whispered, “Shit,” squeezing her eyes shut in embarrassment. Logan made to move towards her, but Y/N recoiled from him and said, “Don’t!”, before side-stepping him and sprinting out of the ballroom as fast as her wildly impractical attire would allow her, ignoring the concerned calls of her name from her fellow X-Men.

Y/N knew Logan would catch up to her eventually, but for the moment, the only thing on her mind was getting as far away from the ballroom and him as possible. She ended up in the hedge maze, and she fell onto a stone bench to catch her breath, but all too soon she heard Logan yelling her name.

She ignored him, then proceeded to bury her face in her hands and cry due to the sheer irony of the situation: She was hiding in a stupid hedge maze from the only man she’s ever wanted because she can’t bring herself to face him.

Logan rounded the corner a few moments later, and the second he saw her on the bench and heard her sniffling, he knelt before her. “Hey, don’t cry, Sweetheart.” He gently pulled her hands away from her face.

Y/N just shook her head and whispered, “I can’t do this, Logan,” through her tears, making Logan’s eyebrows furrow before he said, “Can’t do what, Darlin’?” and went to wipe her cheek with his thumb, but it was too much for her to take.

Y/N flinched away from his touch and sobbed out, “This! The pet names, the tender touches, you looking at me like that! I can’t go back to just friends after everything that’s happened tonight, I can’t! If you’re gonna let me down, please just let me down gently because it’s the only way I can bear losing you!”

A fresh flood of tears blurred her vision enough that she couldn’t see his face, and she tried to get up to run back to her room or anywhere else where she could lock the door and try to pretend like this whole night was just a bad dream, but Logan’s hands shot out to hold her in place. “Y/N, who said anything about letting anybody down or losing me?”

Y/N startled at the sound of her first name coming out of his mouth, and she blinked back her tears to find him looking at her so tenderly she thought she was going to melt into the grass below her. Logan cupped her face in his hand and said,

“From the day that I met you, I knew I needed to find a way to keep you in my life. For a while, that was by being your friend. But only being your friend isn’t enough for me anymore. I need you more than I’ve ever needed anyone in my entire life.” His thumb stroked her cheek comfortingly as he spoke.

Y/N giggled through her tears, and she said, “That’s a long ass time, Wolvie.”

He chuckled back and said, “My point exactly, Doll,” squeezing her knee for emphasis. Y/N looked down at the ground and said, “You’re gonna get grass stains on your pants.”

Logan raised an eyebrow challengingly before bracing his hands on the bench on either side of her and purposely grinding his knees into the grass, pulling a shocked laugh from her. “Logan Howlett!”

He chuckled at her admonishing tone, then leaned in to press his forehead against hers and murmured, “It stopped being pretend for me the moment you came downstairs in this dress,” as he ran a hand down her leg to fiddle with the hem of her dress.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, and she whispered, “You had me at ‘hey, baby’.” For a moment they just stared at each other, but Logan’s resolve broke when she breathed his name, and he surged forward to capture her lips in a desperate kiss that said everything words couldn’t then.

His tongue ran along the seam of her lips, and she let him in without hesitation as she gripped the back of his jacket and he held her against his chest like she’d disappear if he let go. Y/N could have stayed in his embrace forever, and Logan could have kept her like that indefinitely.

Unfortunately, humans need oxygen to live, so Y/n pulled her lips away to at least attempt to catch her breath, but Logan had other plans.

He trailed his kisses down her jaw to her neck, and his hand started roaming around her back to find the zipper of her dress, but Y/N put a hand to his chest to stop him and said, “You better take me on a real date before you try something like that, Howlett.” He buried his face in her shoulder and groaned disappointedly.

Y/N giggled, then said, “As far as I know, the gala doesn’t end for another few hours,” to which Logan leaned back so he was sitting on his heels.

“I think I like where your head's at, Princess,” a smirk crossing his face before he jumped to his feet, scooped her up bridal style, and started jogging back to the mansion, his heart swelling at her squeal of laughter and how her arms tightened around his neck.

Logan set Y/N down outside of the ballroom, then held out his hand and said, “Ready, Darlin’?”

She smiled and said, “Always, Big Guy,” before lacing her fingers with his and walking into the room, where seemingly every Avenger and X-Man was standing and waiting with bated breath.

Y/N bit her lip and looked up at Logan, who let out a resigned sigh and said, “Ahhhh, fuck it,” before sweeping her into a dip and kissing the life out of her, an eruption of shocked laughter, wolf whistles, and applause coming from the gathering of heroes, making Y/N smile against his lips and cup his face in her hand.

When he pulled his lips away, Logan murmured, “I’m in love with you, too. Didn’t get to say it earlier,” making Y/N snark, “Oh, really? I never would have guessed,” before giggling and reconnecting their lips, Logan chuckling as he held her even closer.

Scott hollered teasingly, “Hey, lovebirds! Mind wrapping it up?! We’ve got places to be!”

Both Logan and Y/N simultaneously flipped him off while they stayed engrossed in each other.

“Yeah, fair enough,” Scott said, making Jean laugh at him. Logan eventually stood Y/N up again, then said, “Hey, Stark, is there any good shit left? I don’t know about you, but I finally got the girl, and I feel like celebrating.” As he spoke, he shot a wink at Y/N solely to make her blush.

Tony said, “Absolutely!” A waiter came over with two glasses of champagne, and even Y/N could tell that it was high-quality stuff just from the smell.

Logan held his glass towards her, then said, “To you and me, Darlin’.” Y/N clinked her glass against his in cheers and said, “You and me, Bubba,” everyone cheering as Logan kissed her temple.

As an avid romance novel reader, she probably should have seen this coming, but she couldn’t really bring herself to care about anything else besides the comforting feeling of Logan’s arm around her waist and the knowledge that he was all hers for as long as she wanted him, which was forever.

———————————————————————

MCU Taglist: @libraryofloveletters

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added

[amethystarachnid]

LAZY DAY

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.2k

ᯓ★ TW(s): Too Hot To Handle is mentioned because that shows makes me laugh so much, also y/n is on her period, mentions of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix so Sirius' death

ᯓ★ Timeline: not in a defined timeline, just after the Avengers where formed

ᯓ★ Request: If it's still possible, I would like to request one too! For Tony with "grumpy x sunhine" I am the most grumpy girl in the morning 😂 and it would be amazing to have Tony to cheer me up with his amazing beauty and by giving me lots of kisses, cuddling in bed in the morning, making me breakfast and spending the day with me in bed 💗 ( @little-angel-oc)

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The sound of the blinds whirring open stirs you from the fringes of sleep. You grunt, pulling the blankets over your head, already dreading the day before it even starts. Mornings have never been your thing, but today… Today is different. Today, you woke up with the telltale ache in your lower abdomen that screams it’s here. And as if on cue, you feel the heavy lethargy that comes with it—your period.

It doesn't help that you woke up to Tony Stark’s penthouse, basking in the golden sunlight streaming in through the windows—because, of course, he’s already up, cheerful as ever.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Tony’s voice rings out, way too chipper for your mood. You can hear the smug smile in his voice, and it grates at your nerves, even if you know he means well.

"Mmrf," you mumble incoherently from under the blankets, hoping he'll just take the hint and let you brood in peace. But no, Tony is… Tony. And subtlety isn't exactly his strong suit.

His weight dips the bed as he climbs back in beside you. You feel his presence hovering, the warmth of his body coming closer. Then, soft kisses. One on your shoulder, another on the nape of your neck. His stubble tickles your skin, but you’re too grumpy to be charmed by it. Not yet, at least.

"Come on, don’t hide from me." His lips trail up to your temple, and then another kiss, right on your cheek. He’s relentless. "I made coffee. Just the way you like it."

You groan again, burying yourself deeper under the covers. “Not now, Stark.”

“Aw, come on, I thought we were past the last-name thing,” Tony teases, his voice filled with playful hurt. “You’re killing me here. I come bearing gifts.” His hands smooth over the blanket that cocoons you, and despite your mood, his touch is soothing.

You’re not sure why it worked—him breaking through your defenses. Maybe it’s because he’s the only one who ever tried.

You met Tony a little over three years ago. Not at one of his infamous parties or on a whirlwind trip to Europe like you might expect, but at a quiet charity event. You were the kind of person who kept to yourself, volunteering quietly behind the scenes. Tony, of course, was the star of the evening, charming everyone in his path. Everyone except you.

He noticed immediately. You weren’t fawning over him, and that caught his attention. He was used to people gravitating toward his magnetism, and for you to seem completely unimpressed? That intrigued him. So, naturally, Tony being Tony, he made it his mission to get a smile out of you.

It took weeks. Weeks of him sending flowers to your office, dropping by with coffee, and pestering you with texts that ranged from the utterly ridiculous to oddly sweet. He was insistent, and even though you found him exasperating, something about his relentless positivity started to wear you down. You were the storm and he was the sunshine, determined to break through your clouds.

Somewhere along the way, you fell for him. Hard. But it was mutual. Tony fell for you, too. For the way you saw the world, for how you never let him get away with his usual antics. You kept him grounded, and he showed you it was okay to let the light in.

Now, here you are. Grumpy as ever, in his bed, while he’s trying to shower you with affection despite the fact you’re ready to bite his head off.

“I know you’re awake in there,” Tony murmurs, his voice softening as he slips under the covers with you. His hand finds your waist, tugging you gently against him. “I’m not going anywhere. You can hide from the day, but not from me.”

“I’m cramping,” you mutter, finally poking your head out from the blankets. Your face is probably scrunched up in irritation, but Tony only smiles, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

“Ah, the monthly monster strikes again,” he says sympathetically. “You should’ve told me earlier. I would’ve whipped up something better than coffee.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a tiny smirk playing at your lips. “Tony, you’re not even allowed near the stove. Remember last time?”

“Hey, that omelette was edible,” he defends, making you snort. “Barely.”

“I’ve got just the thing,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “First, we’re going to stay in bed all day. No meetings, no Avengers nonsense, nothing. Just you and me.”

You hum, the idea already starting to sound more appealing.

“Second,” he continues, his fingers brushing through your hair softly, "I'm going to give you approximately one million kisses. It’s scientifically proven to improve your mood.”

A small, reluctant smile tugs at your lips. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” Tony replies, grinning as he leans in and starts peppering your face with light, playful kisses—on your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, and finally, your lips. It’s impossible not to laugh, and the sound escapes you before you can stop it.

“There it is,” Tony says triumphantly, pulling back just enough to catch your eye. “I knew I could make you smile.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no bite behind it. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“And yet, you love me,” he shoots back, his voice teasing but laced with affection. His arms tighten around you, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

You bury your face in his chest, hiding the small smile that refuses to leave your lips. “Yeah, yeah. I guess I do.”

Tony laughs, a soft, warm sound that vibrates against your cheek, and he presses another kiss to the top of your head.

“Now,” he says, reaching over for the tray, “how about breakfast in bed? Then, we can cuddle and watch whatever cheesy rom-com you’re in the mood for.”

You lift your head slightly, giving him a skeptical look. “You hate rom-coms.”

Tony smirks, handing you a piece of toast. “I hate bad rom-coms. But I love you, so I’ll suffer through it.”

You snort, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I know,” he says, settling back against the pillows with an exaggerated sigh. “It’s part of my charm.”

Tony snuggles in closer, his arm wrapping tighter around your waist as he carefully balances the tray on his lap. You sit up a little, taking a piece of toast from the plate, though the idea of eating doesn’t really appeal to you right now. Still, you know he’s trying to make things better in his own way, and that’s worth something. You nibble on the toast to appease him, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He strokes his fingers through your hair absently, the simple act soothing in a way only he can make it. The room is quiet, aside from the distant hum of the world outside Stark Tower and Tony’s soft breathing beside you.

For a moment, it’s peaceful. Then Tony breaks the silence, unable to help himself.

“So,” he says, voice playful, “what’s the plan after we finish breakfast? Want to binge some terrible reality TV? Or,” he raises his eyebrows suggestively, “we could finally finish that puzzle we started. You know, the one that’s only 90% done because someone”—he pokes your side—“gave up and declared it was impossible.”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “I’m not finishing that puzzle, Tony.”

“But you were so close! Just a few more—”

“No.” You turn to glare at him, but there’s no real anger behind it. Just exhaustion. He notices, his teasing smile softening into something more concerned.

“Alright, alright,” he relents, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “We’ll skip the puzzle. Maybe just… rest, then?”

“Maybe,” you murmur, sinking further into him, suddenly too tired to care about anything other than the warmth of his body next to yours.

Tony’s hand moves to your lower back, massaging gently. It’s as if he knows exactly where the pain is the worst, his touch deliberate and comforting. You close your eyes, letting the tension in your muscles melt away. Despite the grumpiness that’s been clinging to you since you woke up, you can feel yourself softening against him.

He tilts his head down, his lips grazing your temple. “How about this,” he says softly, “we take the day one hour at a time. No plans, no pressure. If you want to just lie here, we lie here. If you want to nap, we nap. Whatever you need.”

You sigh, appreciating how much he’s willing to adjust for you, for the person you are on days like this. “You’re really okay with just doing nothing all day?” you ask, even though you know the answer.

“With you? I could do nothing for the rest of my life and be happy,” Tony says, his tone surprisingly sincere.

You laugh, shaking your head. “You? Not working for a whole day? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He grins, his fingers tracing circles on your arm. “Okay, okay, I might check a couple emails. But only a couple. Maybe one phone call…”

“Tony.”

“Alright! I’ll leave the work alone for the day,” he promises, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “Scout’s honor.”

The warmth of his kiss lingers on your skin, and despite yourself, you feel some of the irritability start to slip away. Tony has always had that effect on you—making even the worst days feel just a little bit more bearable. It’s one of the things that drew you to him in the first place, how he could see through all your sharp edges and somehow make you feel seen, cared for.

You shift slightly, finding a more comfortable position in his arms. He takes the empty plate from your hand and sets it aside, his arm slipping back around you without missing a beat.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” you ask quietly, unsure where the question comes from. “Taking care of me when I’m like this?”

Tony’s brow furrows slightly, but there’s no hesitation in his response. “No. Never.”

You give him a skeptical look, but before you can argue, he continues. “Hey, we’ve been through worse, haven’t we? You’ve put up with me for years now—there’s no way I’m letting a few grumpy mornings scare me off.”

You bite your lip, feeling that familiar wall start to rise, the one that tells you to brush off his concern and hide behind sarcasm. But Tony’s looking at you so earnestly, with that mix of affection and stubbornness that’s impossible to argue with. So instead, you let out a breath and nod, resting your head back on his shoulder.

“I guess you’re stuck with me, then,” you mutter, though there’s a hint of warmth in your voice.

Tony presses another kiss to your head. “Good. Because I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

For a while, you just lie there together, the sound of his breathing steady and calming. You close your eyes, letting the dull ache in your body fade into the background. It’s not gone, not completely, but with Tony beside you, it feels manageable. It always does.

“Tell you what,” Tony says after a while, his voice soft and laced with mischief. “Why don’t we make this a thing? Once a month, we do nothing but stay in bed. No meetings, no saving the world, just us. I’ll even bring you breakfast every time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Once a month? You’d get bored after the first hour.”

He shrugs, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Maybe. But I could think of a few ways to keep us entertained.”

There’s a glint in his eyes, and despite your grumpiness, you can’t help but laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” he quips, his arms tightening around you as he pulls you closer.

You don’t reply, but you don’t have to. The way you relax into him, the way you let out a soft sigh of contentment, says enough.

The afternoon sun casts long, lazy shadows across the room as you lie nestled into Tony’s side, still wrapped in the cocoon of blankets. The tray of breakfast long since cleared, the only remnants of your morning now are the occasional crumbs you both keep brushing away. The TV in front of you flickers with the unmistakable chaos of a reality show, and despite your initial protests, you're several episodes deep into Too Hot to Handle.

"Okay, seriously," you groan, watching one of the contestants dramatically storm off after another contrived argument. "How are these people real? There’s no way."

Tony’s laugh rumbles against your back, his arm draped comfortably around you. “I know, right? It’s like watching aliens try to figure out human emotions.”

You snort. “Pretty sure aliens would handle this better.”

On-screen, another contestant confesses that they’re “not here to make friends,” to which Tony rolls his eyes dramatically. “Ah, the classic line. When are they ever here to make friends?”

“They’re not even here to find love,” you mutter. “They just want the prize money.”

Tony clicks his tongue. “And the Instagram followers.”

You half-laugh, half-groan as a new couple starts having a heated conversation about trust—again, for the third time in the episode. “This is torture. Why did I let you talk me into watching this?”

“Oh, I talked you into it?” Tony teases, giving your waist a playful squeeze. “Because if I recall, you were the one who said, ‘Anything, as long as it doesn’t require brain power.’ This show? Zero brain power required. It's perfect.”

You glare up at him, but the smile playing on your lips betrays you. “I hate that you’re right.”

He grins, planting a kiss on your forehead. “It happens more than you think.”

You turn your attention back to the show, shaking your head in disbelief as the contestants participate in yet another ridiculous challenge. “They’re literally just being forced to sit on a beach and not make out. How is this a show?”

Tony chuckles. “Human willpower, baby. People love watching others struggle.”

“That’s not willpower. That’s just people being dumb,” you mutter, shifting against him to get more comfortable.

He shifts too, adjusting the pillows behind him, making sure you're completely settled before draping his arm back over your shoulders. “You know, if we were on this show, we’d be dominating,” Tony says, nodding towards the screen.

You shoot him a look, one eyebrow raised. “We wouldn’t even be on this show. This is exactly the kind of thing I’d avoid at all costs.”

“Hypothetically, though,” Tony continues, a mischievous glint in his eye, “if we were on this island or retreat or whatever… We’d walk away with all the money. Zero slip-ups. We'd be a power couple.”

You roll your eyes. “Please. You’d be the first one to break the rules.”

Tony gasps in mock offense. “Excuse me? I am a gentleman. I can control myself.”

You snort. “Yeah, right. You can’t even make it through a whole episode of this without making some comment about how ‘ridiculous’ it is. There’s no way you’d last.”

Tony leans in, his lips grazing your ear as he whispers, “I’m very good at following rules… when I want to.”

A shiver runs down your spine, but you don’t let him see how much his words affect you. You shove him playfully, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “See? You’d crack under pressure.”

“Never,” he insists, though his grin gives him away. “But you? You’d be the real rule-breaker.”

You tilt your head, amused. “Me?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tony says with a nod, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You act all tough and grumpy, but deep down? You’ve got a soft side. You’d cave the second they throw a romantic dinner at you.”

You scoff. “I’m not that soft.”

“Uh-huh,” Tony says, completely unconvinced. “You’re not fooling anyone, sweetheart. I’ve seen you cry at dog videos.”

You nudge him with your elbow, but you can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up. “Shut up.”

Tony grins, pulling you closer, his nose nuzzling into your hair. “Face it—we’d be the most entertaining couple on the show. The producers would love us.”

“Because I’d be constantly yelling at you to follow the rules?” you quip.

“Exactly,” Tony says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You shake your head, laughing at the absurdity of the conversation, but there’s something about it that feels… nice. Even on a day like this Tony still manages to make you laugh, to make you feel lighter. It’s ridiculous, but it’s exactly what you need.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you say, leaning your head against his chest.

“I am, actually,” Tony says, his tone suddenly softer, more genuine. “Every day.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you forget about the ridiculous show on TV. You look up at him, seeing that familiar warmth in his eyes—the same look he gave you the first time he told you he loved you, the same look that reminds you why, despite all his quirks and chaos, you fell for him in the first place.

You reach up and press a kiss to his cheek, lingering for just a second longer than usual. “I’m lucky too.”

Tony smiles, the kind of smile that makes you feel like everything in the world is right, even when your body aches and your mood is sour. “So,” he says, voice light again, “do we keep watching, or do we switch to something less… terrible?”

You glance back at the TV, where yet another argument is brewing between contestants who probably won’t last past the reunion episode. “Let’s keep watching,” you say, surprising yourself.

Tony’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? You’re getting into it, aren’t you?”

You sigh, leaning back into him. “No, it’s just… if I have to suffer, I’m dragging you down with me.”

Tony laughs, that infectious sound filling the room as he pulls you even closer, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And just like that, the afternoon drifts by, with the two of you lost in the ridiculous drama on screen, but more importantly, lost in the warmth of each other’s company.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting the room in a soft orange glow, you’re still comfortably tucked into bed, your legs intertwined with Tony’s. The reality show marathon had finally come to an end—mercifully—and now the two of you are lounging in the blissful silence of the early evening.

Tony, ever the thoughtful partner, has already ordered takeout for dinner. You didn’t even need to ask; he knew you wouldn’t feel like cooking, especially today. “I got McDonald’s,” he announces with a proud grin as he taps away on his phone, tracking the delivery.

“Comfort food. Nice touch,” you say, stretching your arms above your head with a yawn.

“You’re not gonna complain about all the fries I ordered?” Tony teases.

“Not today,” you mutter, rubbing your eyes as you sit up. “I’m going to hop in the shower. My body feels all… ugh.”

Tony’s eyes light up, his grin widening as he sits up too, resting his chin on his hand. “Oh? Shower, you say?”

You immediately catch the playful tone in his voice, and you shoot him a look, knowing exactly where this is going. “Tony—”

“Come on,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. “It’s been a lazy day, and I think we could both use a nice, hot, shared shower. I promise, I’ll behave.” He gives you an exaggerated wink that’s so over-the-top, you can’t help but laugh.

You shake your head, sliding off the bed. “Absolutely not.”

Tony pouts, shifting onto his knees as he watches you walk to the bathroom. “Why not?” he protests, though there’s no real weight behind his argument. “We’re in a committed relationship. There’s nothing wrong with—”

“I’m on my period,” you interrupt flatly, raising an eyebrow as you lean against the doorframe, arms crossed.

Tony pauses, his eyes narrowing in consideration before he stands and follows you, leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door, refusing to let the conversation go. “So?” he says, shrugging. “Not like I care. I just want to be near you.”

You roll your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the exhaustion. He’s persistent, you’ll give him that. “Tony, I love you, but this is my one chance to have five minutes of peace.”

His grin softens into something a little more affectionate, though his tone remains light. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you have your ‘me’ time. But if you change your mind…” He leans in closer, dropping his voice into a whisper. “I’ll be right here. Ready.”

You can’t help but laugh, shoving him playfully toward the bedroom. “Go wait for the food, Stark.”

He gives you one last, overdramatic pout before retreating with a sigh. “Fine. But only because I love you.”

Shaking your head, you finally close the door, the sound of Tony’s soft humming fading as you start the water. The hot steam begins to fill the small space, and you let out a contented sigh as you step under the showerhead. The warmth helps soothe the dull ache in your body, and for the first time all day, you feel a little more like yourself.

When you finally emerge, your hair wrapped in a towel and a fresh pair of pajamas on, the scent of fries and burgers has filled the room. Tony’s already settled back on the bed, the food laid out neatly on the tray between the two of you. He’s wearing one of his worn-out band t-shirts, the kind that’s been washed so many times it’s practically soft enough to sleep in.

“Look at that timing,” Tony says as you approach. “Hot shower and hot food all waiting for you. I should win some kind of award for this.”

You smile, climbing back into bed and settling next to him. “You’ve really outdone yourself today.”

He grins, popping a fry into his mouth. “I live to serve.”

You grab a burger and unwrap it, savoring the familiar comfort of the greasy food. There’s something about McDonald’s that hits differently on days like this, and you let out a satisfied sigh as you take the first bite.

Tony reaches for the remote, flicking through the movie options. “Okay, your choice—Harry Potter marathon or Lord of the Rings marathon? I’m letting you pick because I’m a generous, loving boyfriend.”

You tilt your head thoughtfully. “Harry Potter.”

“Good choice,” he nods approvingly as he navigates to Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. “Though I may regret this later when you start crying.”

You roll your eyes, though you know he’s right. Sirius’s death always hits hard, but today, with your emotions running higher than usual, you know it’s going to hit even harder. Still, there’s something comforting about watching a movie you’ve seen a hundred times, where you know every scene, every line. It feels like home.

As the movie starts, the two of you settle in with your food, occasionally exchanging bits of conversation and laughter between bites. Tony sneaks a few of your fries, even though he has his own, and you flick a stray piece of lettuce at him when he teases you for getting emotional over Harry’s reunion with Sirius.

Then the fateful moment arrives. As Bellatrix’s spell hits Sirius, sending him tumbling through the veil, your heart clenches. You feel your throat tighten, and before you can stop yourself, tears well up in your eyes.

Tony, of course, notices immediately.

“Oh no, here it comes,” he says softly, putting down his burger and wrapping his arm around you. “Come here, sweetheart.”

You sniffle, leaning into him as your eyes stay glued to the screen. “It’s just so unfair,” you mutter, your voice thick with emotion. “He finally had someone. He was going to have a family again.”

Tony nods, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I know. It sucks.”

You curl into him more, the sadness of the scene mingling with your already fragile emotions. The tears start to spill over, and Tony just holds you tighter, rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “Let it out. I’ll cry with you if you want.”

You laugh through the tears, wiping at your eyes. “No, you won’t.”

He grins, squeezing you gently. “Alright, maybe not. But I’ll be here while you do.”

For the rest of the scene, you cling to him, the sadness ebbing and flowing as you mourn the loss of Sirius for the hundredth time. Tony doesn’t say much, just holds you close, his presence warm and reassuring. He knows better than to try to fix it—he just lets you feel what you need to feel.

As the movie moves on and your tears subside, you pull away slightly, wiping your eyes and letting out a long breath. Tony reaches over to hand you a napkin, and you smile, taking it gratefully.

“Thanks,” you mumble, dabbing at your face.

He leans in, kissing your cheek. “Anytime, babe. Anytime.”

With the worst of the tears behind you, you settle back into the comfort of Tony’s arms, the two of you snuggled up under the covers as the movie continues. The food is mostly forgotten at this point, but you don’t mind. The weight of the day, the grumpiness, the cramps—they all seem a little more distant with Tony by your side.

I'm sorry I just love Sirius so much that I had to put him here even if it's about his death...If you liked the story don't forget to like, reblog (that's what keeps Tumblr posts going) and maybe leave a comment or a follow if you want! <3

Ivy Rose

[neighbourscat]

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄 , spencer cassadine

EVERYONE HAS A QUIET ESCAPE.

𓈒  ˙ ꪆৎ   ꣹  ۫  𖨂 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 . .. . estate owner!spencer c. X estate chef!black!fem!reader. || second person ( you, yours, you’re ) + lowercase intended.

+ synopsis. making breakfast was your way of reaching out, of letting him know, wordlessly, that he wasn’t alone. it wasn’t about the food itself but about giving him a moment of comfort, a pause from everything weighing on him .. a quiet escape.

+ cw. mature language! & indications of social status difference between spencer cassadine and black!reader. || other than that, no warnings! ( a lot of italics! & sorry if my writing of spencer cassadine is poor and inaccurate, i haven’t watched general hospital enough. the storylines are so confusing to follow /: )

+ nali’s notes; food is a love language! reader is heavily inspired by ayo edebiri || sydney adamu from the bear! reader is three flowers tall! so gen-z, so hilariously awkward, so silly, so dorky, so sweetie & so patient with cranky spencer cassadine. such a doll! reader loves sza & chappell roan & beabadoobee! i love writing a reader who rambles a lot. wordcount :: 4.0k+

+ more; short does not follow any specific plotline of general hospital!

+ to be played: normal girl, sza. || alternative: there she goes, the la’s.

EVERYONE HAS A QUIET ESCAPE.

LAWRENCE, NEW YORK || DECEMBER 4, 2023

the king’s market stood at the very edge of lawrence; a small town within a big city .. . where the paint peeled off old brick buildings, and faded signs creaked in the december wind. yet, despite its weathered exterior, the supermarket was lawrence’s unexpected gem ( as was shawnda’s boutique, toni’s kitchen, minnie’s nails, the sullivan community college, that dunkin’ on mccarter road, brunch box, and express deli ) — a place that managed to thrive against all odds. its large windows glowed warmly under flickering neon lights, as if the store itself were proud of what it held inside.

you skid to a harsh stop — your brother’s old navy blue bicycle croaked with each pedal, it practically begged to be thrown into a junkyard — and immediately lose balance. you caught yourself before the tumble could come; the bottoms of your ragged, black vans scraping at the concrete and your thumbs accidentally brushing against the bike’s bells . .. . the scratchy ringgg alerted the cluster of pigeons, causing them to flap away, and made the mother pushing her big-enough-to-walk-on-his-own toddler side-eye you.

“mornin’ . ..” you raised a shy hand in apology, leaning your brother’s aged bike against king’s dried bike rack. you snatched up your bundle of reusable tote bags from the screwed-on basket and dug into the jumble for the bicycle’s lock; the new one ordered from amazon. “o .. kayyyy,” you sung to yourself, wrapping the chain link over a rack pole. hearing it click and seeing that it remained in place, you let out a deep breath .. relieved.

king’s market is quiet, but it’s a comforting quiet, broken only by the hum of old refrigeration units and the faint rustle of a distant shopper. sunlight filtered through the small, high windows, casting a soft glow over the shelves and illuminating specks of dust floating lazily through the air — king’s market was different from what was expected. though the aisles were narrow and the checkered linoleum tiles were cracked and crumbled and lifting out of place, each row and shelf was organized perfectly.

a faint scent of earth and herbs drifted from the produce section, where vegetables sat stacked in bright, fresh columns. local greens glistened with a crispness that rivaled any high-end market over in port charles ( you believed ), their colors vivid against the worn wooden bins. tomatoes were perfectly ripe, their skins taut and glowing, and bunches of parsley and dill leaned together like old friends, filling the air with a sharp, green fragrance.

in the far back, there was a small bakery nook filled with golden loaves, round bagels, fluffy croissants, beautifully-decorated cupcakes and soft cookies made with old-fashioned love, managed by antonella cardenas. beside it, a mini flower-shop section . .. . you’ve made it your business to circle by during your early morning grocery-runs.

you ripped the bud from your ear and let the wire hang down your front, dangling and brushing against the puff of your dark-green winter jacket. “tev?” you gave the worktop a knock, not too loud but hard enough to be heard throughout the mini-kitchen. tevin’s butcher counter was simple but spotless, manned by an old man who knew every cut by heart, arranging steaks and chops with the precision of an artist.

“tee-tee?!” still, nothing or no one came to you — you knew the mini-kitchen was open. the lights were on and the faucet was running. “i’ve got some .. fucked-up, jacked-up, cracked-up shit to tell you, tev.” you were careful with your curses, not giving them their regular intensity and over-exaggeration. “tevi?! it’s work shit!” crickets. that usually worked. you stopped knocking on the cold counter and dropped back onto your heels. “i know you can hear me, tevin,” spoken under your breath and while you were unraveling your wired-headphones.

and you started onward . .. realizing that it might’ve been a good thing tevin wright hadn’t come out to the register. you weren’t the best at lying on the spot. you had a little tell of it; while for many, it was laughing or evasive smiling or rapid blinking or coughing and clearing their throat, avoiding eye contact; like looking up at the ceiling, or those self-soothing gestures or being too fidgety with their fingers and clothing, you overused defensive phrases: like “honestly,” “to tell you the truth,” or “believe me”.

with sza’s ‘sweet november’ playing faintly in your ears .. you stand in the center of a narrow, softly lit aisle; shelves of hand-drawn packaging designs, others in plain jars that let the rich red or green hues of their contents do the talking. your hands hovered over two jars — one labeled locally-made marinara, the other a small-batch pesto. your fingers grazed the cool glass of both as you considered them, your full brows knit in thought. it’s just .. fucking pasta sauce, you could hear your mother’s grating voice. pick up a jar and go.

you lifted one jar, squinting at the label, as though weighing the memories each flavor might stir up. a faint smile tugged at your lips as you remembered how your father would make a whole affair out of selecting ingredients, debating over spices and sauces as if it were a high-stakes decision. are you kidding me? this is ridiculous. you are just like your father. half-insult.

you set it back down, you reached for the other choice, your gaze thoughtful as you further debated which would give your evening dish that extra something — sza’s song of past experiences fading into chappell roan’s love me anyway — you set that jar back into place and grabbed the third option. the one with the hand-drawn design. it was cute and you made a mental note to peel the wrapping off before use.

PORT CHARLES, NEW YORK || DECEMBER 4, 2023

the kitchen of the cassadine estate was a masterpiece of traditional russian design, combining rustic elegance with a sense of historic charm. the kitchen was a vast, open space dominated by an enormous central island, topped with dark, veined marble that has been polished to a mirror-like finish. cabinets of deep, rich wood line the walls, their surfaces gleaming under the sparkle of hanging iron chandeliers with exposed filament bulbs that cast a golden light over everything.

every detail exuded craftsmanship: the hand-carved moldings, the wrought-iron handles on each cabinet, and the aged brass fixtures that gave the room a touch of vintage grandeur. pots and pans of shined copper hung in neat rows from a ceiling rack, their warm glow offset by the cool, tiled walls in muted creams and grays, which add a subtle neatness.

a massive stone hearth sat against one wall, its archway adorned with intricate, hand-laid tiles. within, a wood-fired oven emitted a faint, smoky scent. to the side, a marble-topped counter held a selection of oils and aged vinegars kept in glass jars, each label handwritten in russian script.

large windows near the farmhouse sink overlooked the estate’s gardens, letting in natural light that poured across the butcher-block counters and casted shadows on the tiled floor. this floor — worn but immaculate — was ice cold underneath your soaking wet polka-dot socks. in one hand, your pair of vans ( fiona mccall, the estate’s lead-housekeeper, and her team were stern and meticulous in ensuring that the grand halls, ballrooms, libraries, staircases, and more importantly, the floors remained pristine ), your phone with the letterboxd app still open and dropped into a shoe, in the other hand; your grocery tote-bag you were to keep in the employee mini-fridge.

you faked a bad cough, in attempt to fake clear your throat — “sorry, goodmorning .. mr. cassadine.” — still, you grabbed his attention. spencer cassadine stood at the central island with his elbows resting on the chilled surface, his head lowered, lost in thought. the weight of family expectations pressed heavily on him, and the stillness around him offered a brief moment of respite .. before hearing your voice, of course.

your presence filled the room with a sense of . .. . play and awkwardness. spencer studied you: your winter jacket over a simple, faded-once-graphic t-shirt, wrinkled mom jeans, hints of gold jewellery, your box-braids loosely tied back with baby pink crochet yarn, giving you that .. ‘relaxed’ look, he guessed you were going for. it wasn’t effortless, it was messy. spencer’s gaze switched to your shoeless feet .. as did your own eyes — you took one large step to the left and landed behind a counter, only letting your upper half show.

“fiona-ms. mccall, i mean,” you began, your shoulders tense and your arms cramping from the hanging shoes and bags of groceries, “and those-sorry, your floors, sir. she’s serious ‘bout ‘em, that one. i mean, her team too. they’re like .. so serious about th’ floors .. i had’ta walk around in my socks-“ you stopped before continuing on. seeing him stand there with that signature blank, cold look on his face only shut you up ( you opted not to speak on how you dropped your dunkin’ coffee on the way here ) and drove sickness deeper into your heart.

you looked away from a moment, taking a shaky breath. “i should, uhm ..” you faced him again, “sorry, mr. cassadine .. my arms are, like, getting ready to snap off. like, actually.”

spencer watched you waddle off into the shared-employee closet. he straightened a bit, his fists carefully drumming at the marble surface as he waited for your return — though, he wouldn’t admit to anyone that he had been ‘waiting’ for you. after a moment, he took a step aside and tilted his head slightly, giving himself a clear view into the employee closet; with its array of lockable, highschool-style cell phone lockers . .. . you were shoving your winter jacket into the available top shelf, struggling on your tip-toes.

when you landed on your heels again, spencer took his previous position; leaning against the central island — “so, um . ..? sorry, but why are you back here, anyways?” you called out, but gave spencer not even a second to process the question. you peeked your head out of the employee closet, braids no longer tied back but cascading over your shoulder. “sorry, this is your family’s kitchen. you have, uhm .. every right to be back here. sorry.” you disappeared into the employees’ closet again, leaving spencer to be alone and to .. somewhat try and understand you.

“you apologize a lot?” he asked, his voice steady and even. not a question, but more so a statement.

dropping your hands from your braided bun, you moved away from the wall mirror and out of the closet saying: “trauma response,” unapologetic and freely, fixing your white button-up and fresh apron, “i can’t help but feel bad for a person literally every-time i-“

“what?” a deep grumble. too forward. he’s not one of your friends, you reminded yourself. you can’t speak to him like he’s on your level — rather, like you’re on his level. “sorry, mr. cassadine.” again with the sorry.

spencer huffed and in a low tone, “you can stop with the ‘mister’.” not a request, but an instruction. unsure of what to say next, in bad habit; “i’m sorry?” his eyes narrowed and you bit down on your lower lip, stopping yourself from the ‘m’ word and the ‘s’ word. “i actually get asked about that .. like, a lot. the ‘s’ word, thing. i’m kind of working on it. kind of.”

“kind of?”

“mhm-yeah. takin’ it day by day . .. . kind of. you know what i mean?” no comment, no further movement. your shoulders drooped, but you were okay. you were in an okay mood this early, december morning even after dropping your dunkin’ coffee. you had on new, warm socks and had beabadoobee in one ear — “you still use ..” with a hand, spencer gestured toward his own ear, “wires?”

you stared down at your phone, the adapter snug in the charging port; ‘pictures of us’ by beabadoobee at its first full minute. the slander on ‘wired headphones’ was so unnecessary and so childish. without thinking: “i’m sorry?” you paused a moment to recollect and what looked to be a smile began tugging at spencer’s lips. “i mean-who doesn’t? .. who doesn’t like wires?”

“many people.”

a weird chuckle, “what? literally so many people like wires. i don’t-? what is so wrong with wires?”

“what isn’t wrong with wires?”

“i don’know? that’s why i’m asking you ‘what’s wrong with wires’?

“everything.” and that was that. spencer had the last word, though your disagreed completely. silence fell for eight seconds, maybe nine, before he asked; “what are you, uh ..?” shoving his veiny hands into the front pockets of his dark jeans, “who are you listenin’ to, anyways?”

“beabadoobee.” you paused the song. “her beatopia album. it’s so good, seriously.” a part of you considered sharing the unused earbud, but that would require closeness and sharing wired headphones was an intimate gesture, a chance to bond with another — that couldn’t be done with airpods or those chunky beat headphones. “i’ll come over to you-you just stay there.”

spencer met you halfway around the marble island, going against your statement without a second thought. the gap between you and spencer was intentional, on both ends. he kept himself from standing too close, as did you. “okay, so, if bea’s not your cup of tea, or, uhm, you don’t like her sound or somethin’ .. justttt, uh, don’t say anything-y’know?” spencer listened intently, hands at his sides and the soft skin of his fingers rubbing the stitches of his dark jeans. “sorry, that wasn’t exactly ‘polite’-“

“play the song.”

“mhm. yeah.” your index finger tapped down on the rewind button .. pictures of us started, the acoustic guitar entrance soothing and inviting — “the words take awhile to, um . .. actually begin, sor-nope.” spencer smiled faintly at your effort, giving a light thumbs up. you appreciated the gesture, warmth slowly growing within your chest, causing you to chew the inside of your cheek.

with the pad of your thumb, you dragged at the progress bar, watching the thin line skip forward in small jumps, stopping at the right mark. you let your finger rest, satisfied as bea’s lyrics finally filled the air.

“i’ve watched that.” right under the music widget had been a notification from letterboxd: w-katie02 liked your review of the elephant man ( 1980 )! “it’s one of my favorites,” he continued, almost hesitant. “yeah?” a little, genuine smile as your fingers brushed the edge of your phone. “yeah.” spencer ended there, seemingly restricted; as if he’d just given something away he hadn’t meant to.

“do you have letterboxd?” just the most important app on your cellular device. well, one of them, certainly. by the glint in your eyes, spencer could feel the unmistakable love you held — because for you, it was so much more than just a platform; it was like a never-ending journal of emotions, insights, and memories. your perfect profile was filled with entries — some thoughtful and delicate and passionate, others scattered and messy and raw, like snapshots of your silly life in film. you’d spent many hours logging your thoughts after each movie, capturing how it made you feel, who you’d watched it with, what kind of day it had been . .. . you never missed a detail.

“what’s a .. letterboxd?” you unlocked your phone in under a second — “it’s like goodreads, but for movies,” you said as you clicked the app open. spencer, though confused and having never heard of goodreads, kept his lips locked and waited for your explanation: “letterboxd is immediate, like no other platform.” you held out your phone and he took hold of it; mindful of the need to avoid physical contact.

“social media in a way that’s like-“ spencer’s finger swiped up and you inched inward, lifting onto your tip-toes to watch as he did so. “-ultra safe and super cuddly. there’s no politics, close-minded straight men, or mentions of global crises, the sad stuff essentially, y’know? .. well, okay, actually-i guess, if you’re on the wrong side-“

“there are sides?”

“so, it’s . .. . yeah.”

“mm.” — pictures of us faded into don’t get the deal — your gaze shifted between his working finger and his face. you didn’t know what he’d been doing exactly, but you paid attention to how his eyes zipped side to side under his eyelids and how his brows lightly scrunched and how he sniffled softly every now and again and how his tongue darted out to bring moisture back to his lips. and in this very moment, this quiet moment of, what you assumed was nothing, he looked . .. . approachable. it surprised you how easily he fit into this small moment, his attention focused on something so trivial.

spencer cassadine — extra polished, effortlessly confident, someone who belonged to a world you’d only ever seen from a distance — handling your phone as though you and him were two equals. the four fingers of his right hand nearly covering every collected sticker.

to you, he really was someone you had heard about in passing, the kind of person with a surname people spoke of in hushed tones, heavy with history. he seemed so different up close, less like a distant idea of wealth and reputation, and more like just .. a person, with his own subtle quirks and quiet intensity — it felt like a rare glimpse beyond his guarded expression, easing the image you’d carried of him.

you tried not to overthink it, letting yourself just be here, grounded by the purr of the kitchen and beabadoobee in the background and the heat of his presence . .. .

then came a muffled ping; spencer returned your phone and retrieved his own from his back pocket. that dry, somber demeanor was back and whatever that quiet moment was, was long gone. you clicked off beabadoobee — your eyes searching his face for a hint of what could have been troubling him. “can i make you something?” a sweet offer. a sweetness that spencer cassadine had not known, or been at all familiar with.

he blinked up from his screen. “what?”

“have you eaten breakfast yet?”

spencer shook his head.

“food always helps.” just as you pivot and circled the counter, he spoke: “i’ve already taken too much of your free time. i’ve interrupted your routine,” clearly trying to brush off your sweet offer, though his stomach growled in response to the idea of food.

“it’s fine.”

“i can’t let you ..”

“seriously?” you stopped in your tracks, barely smiling. “come on, seriously. c’mon. i can prepare somethin’ quickly. i don’t mind, really,” you reassured. and spencer felt a flicker of thankfulness at your inclination; you weren’t offering to impress him or because he was who he was, but out of the kindness of your heart. “thank you.”

with a nod, you moved to the large refrigerator, opening the door with purpose. you pulled out a few eggs and some vegetables, your movements deliberate and calm. the rhythmic sounds of your chopping and sautéing completed the kitchen.

as you worked, spencer was leaned over the counter .. having just downloaded letterboxd and putting together his own movie lists. he found your account, remembering the username in the top left corner, and added a few of your saved movies to his new “to watch” list. “how long have you been cooking for?”

“mom put a knife in my hand at five, so i’d say since then,” you replied, glancing up briefly and laughing seeing the concerned look on his face — you weren’t joking. “it’s therapeutic,” you said then, eyes down again. “i find real comfort in it-a quiet escape, like my letterboxd. plus, feeding people is a nice way to show you care.”

your words struck a chord with him. he could see how the kitchen was your sanctuary, just as it had become a momentary refuge for him. “i can understand that,” he admitted, his gaze wandering to the window, where the light falling snow touched down and melted. “i’ll find my ‘quiet escape’.”

“you don’t have one now?”

“unh-unh.”

“that should be impossible. what do you look for when you need a moment?”

“i walk around and sit in silence.”

“that sounds awful.”

“it’s not the worse thing ever.”

“no, i guess not. but what do you love to do? like really, truly love to do-imagine, ‘kay, it’s your very last hour alive .. ‘nd you’re trapped in a dome with only th’ materials needed for your number one hobby, what is it?”

spencer’s mind went blank for a few seconds. he didn’t write, he didn’t read, he couldn’t draw, he couldn’t paint — “i like the gym.”

“okay .. cool.” you smiled and scratched at an eyebrow, “um, but seriously. what’s the hobby?”

“.. nothing.”

“-shit.”

“yeah.” a hopeless shrug. “i never got into an art or instrument. nothing that requires serious skill and talent.” spencer turned off his phone and held his hands together, fingers interlocking.

“well . .. a hobby doesn’t have ‘ta require serious skill or talent. and it doesn’t necessarily have ‘ta be an art.” you told him, matter-of-factly; knowing and practical. “like bird-watching. don’t have’ta be in your sixties to do it.” dropping your spoon onto a paper towel, you went for one of the five spice cabinets and dug inside. “i collect cool things.” you were a collector of very fine whatchamacallits, doo-dads, and trinkets; which ranged from mail stamps, pink paper clips, buttons of all shapes and colors and sizes, unique beer bottle caps, and stickers — your junk-sticker phone case is evidence.

“what-like rocks?”

“sometimes. marbles too.”

“marbles?”

“marbles.” firmly, “mancala pieces.”

“what’s a mancala piece?”

“y’know ..? mancala?”

“what’s mancala?”

“what’s mancala?” in disbelief, you released a defeated sigh and shook your head. “i have a mobile version, i can explain the game after this.” yyou stretched your arm over and with a knuckle, tapped down on your phone screen; you had little over an hour left. “jus’ta confirm, i will be explaining the game.”

no objection.

“but back to hobbies-“ spencer heard your voice and instantly flipped his phone back over. “-what’s an instrument you’ve wanted to play?” piano, there was no need to think about it. the first time spencer had heard a piano, the melody was soft and almost a whisper, beckoning him away from the clamor of the gala crowd. he drifted toward the sound, drawn in as if by a spell —

— he saw the grand piano in the corner of the room, its sleek black body gleaming under the warm lights. a man was seated there, his fingers gliding over the keys with such fluid grace that spencer could hardly believe it . .. . and in that moment, he felt an overwhelming urge .. not just to listen, but to touch the keys, to know how it felt to draw out a sound so moving and pure. but he was only a child, and the instrument seemed impossibly large, as if it belonged to another world.

and years passed .. life had filled up with other obligations and distractions, and the closest he’d come to a piano was brushing his fingers over the keys of one owned by a close friend or at another sprawling event. but every now and then, when he heard the low throb of a piano in a restaurant or wherever, he felt that same pull, that longing that had begun in the corner of a crowded room so many years before, waiting patiently for him to return.

“piano,” he answered. though he had no idea what happiness looked like for him, he was sure that starting with piano would make that discovery easier — he was so incredibly detached from himself and the more you spoke to him, you could tell.

“i know you can learn,” you said, kindly.

“i don’t have the time.”

“not even five minutes? you can download an app and start slow .. memorize piano stuff.”

“you have a piano app?”

“no, but i can find one for you.” his dark eyes brightened imperceptibly. “i bet there’s a lot. there’s an app for everything .. unfortunately .. kind of.” you mumbled the last bit, plating his breakfast with care. “.. here. simple, but it’ll help.”

in grabbing himself clean silverware — for the first time, he felt the possibility of letting someone in, even if just a little.

[star-xxx1]

Can you do a Wanda and nat fan fic with a female reader??

Can it be a fluff at the start and then slowly an angst, then a good ending ❤️❤️

Their words and touch hurt like hell-

WandaNat x Avenger! female reader

Maria Hill x reader (for a mission)

Carol x reader

First fic, I have proof read this multiple times but im so sorry for any mistakes that may occur, please ignore them!

Summary : You loved your specials girls so much, but when a Agurment takes a turn and leads to a nasty break-up, you completely change for the worst, now they are trying there best to get back.

Warnings: Heavy angst with a happy ending, Self-violence, servere anger issues, accusations of cheating, slapping, self-neglect, swearing, allusions to smut, fluff, reader getting hurt, toxic relationships, Physical and verbal fighting, insults, depression, Insecurities being heightened, and more fluff...

These are some nicknames that the readers uses just so your not confused, the other nicknames used this fic are quite distinct: Mia (Maria), Care bear (Carol).

A alarm sounded thoughout the spacious, dimly-lit room. You stirred slightly, slowly you opened your eyes to be met with the beautiful sight of your girlfriend, Wanda, Dead asleep. You let out a small giggle.

You felt a pair of strong, familiar arms wrapped around your waist tighten signalling that she was wake to, you knew that was your other goddesses of a girlfriend Natasha.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y turn off the alarm in room 6" you requested with a groggy voice.

The annoying sound soon stopped.

You tried to turn around in Natasha arms to face her only to be met with soreness shooting through your body, reminding you of the sensual advents of last night, you stopped in your tracks ending up on your back and let out a pained whine.

"You okay dekta?" Natasha Inquired worried.

"Yes, sweetheart, just really sore" you were able to say through gritted teeth to suppress further whines, completing the full turn around in her arms.

"Morning, love" She said with a huge grin plastered on her face from your pervious statment but that sneaky grin soon turned into a warm smile, Dam that smile you loved so much.

You blushed, burying your face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet scent.

"Morning" you replied back muffled, hugging on to her for dear life.

You knew what was happening to day and you hated it, you hated it with a burning passion.

Your girlfriends where going on a month long mission.

"Hey, what about me?" sounded a heavenly voice from behind you.

"Wanda!?" You questioned pulling back for Nats neck, looking back in excitement.

"Yes, honey" she landed a peck onto your lips making you smiled.

"Morning, Wands" Nat said smiling.

"Morning, Natty" Wanda replied back, you watched as she learned you over to steal a kiss from her.

Natasha soon sat up and pulled you onto her lap. You whinned again from your achy body being moved.

"I have training with Steve in 30 minutes" she said kissing your forehead as a silent 'sorry'. "Wanda can you please take care of our special girl"

"Of course babe" she said getting up and walking around the bed until she reached you, picking you up.

You wrapped your legs around her waist and her arms around her neck and closed your eyes basking in the warmness and soothing scent that radiated off her.

Wanda moved go to get ready for the day with you. She thought warm shower would help soothe your tight muscles, Leaving Natasha to go get dress and make her way down to the training floor off the compound.

You guys agreed that, you and Wanda would go meet Natasha after getting ready and making breakfast.

-------------------------------------------------------

After Nat had a shower and got dress for the day and she made her way down to the compound kitchen/living room. There she saw Tony and Thor bickering over something stupid, Clint on zoom with Laura, Steve reading a book, and Sam and Peter screaming over a game. She was pulled out of her trance when the mixture of your beautiful laughter and The smell of mouth-watering food hit her.

She looked over to the stove to see Wanda stirring soup and staring daggers into something or someone. Wanda sensed Nats entrance and met her eyes, soon gesturing with her head over to you and Carol.

Natasha's face soon dropped to, the sight of you laughing and hugging Carol infurates her.

Natasha and Wanda were Extremely possessive of you. Most of your Agurments were caused by this. Wanda and Natasha recently found out that your childhood best friend, Carol had a big crush on you. They didn't mean to find out but when Wanda powers when haywire from stress during an agurment with Natasha, she started accidentally reading everybody's mind including Carol who was then, currently comforting your crying form in her arms.

They had told you after everything had calmed down and apologises had been exchanged, you brushed it off not wanting to cause anymore stress during this time. They said to 'say away' but you couldn't you love her to much she was your best friend after all.

She moved to sit down at the kitchen counter, soon accompanied by you.

"Hi, baby!" you said, she pulled you into a tight hug and kissed your cheek. "Natty?" You aksed as she pulled away, she just stared at you, a mix of love and rage potent in her eyes.

"Foods ready!" Wanda shouted, making everyone drop everything there doing and run to the kitchen.

"umm okay let's just eat" you awkwardly mumbled.

Carol tried to sit next to you but was blocked by wanda, who when sat gave her a death glare. Wanda then pulled you on to her lap and Natasha moved into your pervious seat, gesturing for Carol to sit in her old one instead of next to you.

"But I want to sit next to Care bear!" You protested only to be met with the cold glare of the ex- assassin. That immediately shut you up.

After breakfast Wanda picked you up and took you to your room, followed by Natasha.

Natasha opened the door, soon you were met with the softness for your king size bed as Wanda threw you down, you looked up to see your girlfriends either side of the bed.

"Okay, why are you guys being like this?" You questioned.

"For a start you and 'Care bear'" Natasha mocked "Need to break what ever this is up"

"Okay? " you agreed.

"Good" Wanda smirked.

"Now, let's give our girl some cuddles before we leave" Wanda grined, as they both climbed in next to you.

-------------------------------------------------------

40 mins later and it was time, You felt distraught, watching them like a hawk as they moved around the room packing there mission bags and getting changed.

You let your tears free fall, once your girlfriends stood infornt of the bed with there suits on and bags tossed over there shoulders. You shot up and flung yourself into they're arms and they happily allowed you to just stand there holding them closely.

"Okay dek-" Natasha was cut of by you pulling her in for a deep long kiss only pulling away once you were completely deprived of air, taking a deep breath you turned to Wanda repeating your previous actions.

Once you pulled away you brought them into a tight hug once again

"I love you both so much, be safe"

"I love you too" they both chucked in sync.

Once they were out the door and up to the quinjet bay you flopped down on the bed and sobbed.

You cried until the lack of sleep from last night caught up to you.

-------------------------------------------------------

One week into being with out the loves of your life and your a total mess, you just miss you girlfriends so so so much. You miss waking up to them, you miss there touch, you miss the fun, you just miss everything about them. On top with that you had to break up your friendship with Carol which didn't end well.

During the nasty agurment, in the middle of a lot of insults, she told screamed at you that she thinks that Nat and Wanda were to possessive and you knew that well, to well, hell last time you hugged Carol for to long an agurment rose and it when all to shit. You really did ponder why the rest of the team didn't notice your fresh bloodshot eyes from crying because of the harsh words the two reheads unleash on you, especially with the severe anger issues the both hold.

One wrong move and all hell would break lose, thank god they only ever hurt you Verbally, you wouldn't stand a between the both of them physically.

You always felt a bit safer during the screaming matches with the promise they made a long time ago. "We would never do anything to hurt"

Hell you were wrong.

F.R.I.D.A.Y broke you out of your focus on tv, you were comfortably bundled up laying in bed with Natasha's grey hoddies and Wanda's black sweatpants.

"Miss y/l/n, Director fury would like you at meeting room 13 in 30m minutes"

"Okay, thank you F.R.I.D.A.Y I will be down soon"

"Nope problem miss y/I/n"

-------------------------------------------------------Once you got to the meeting room, Fury ushered you in. You took your seat waiting for the others.

Maria soon came in and your face lit up to see a close friend but soo dropped when Carol soon followed, closing the door behind her.

Maria took a seat next to you and Carol distanced herself from you choosing the seat furtherst away, which made you frown abit. You still are vexed at her but you still miss her.

Maria noticed your change in facial expression.

"You okay, Y/n/n? " Maria asked.

"Yep, Mia!" you quickly fixed your face, turning to her and nodding.

"Okay, ladies" fury proceeded to talk as you turned to face him

"I need you guys for a new mission, a dangerous, long one, are you guys up to this?"

All three of you nodded in agreement.

"This mission is about saving inhumans from a common enemy Hydra, You must inform no one about this mission even your closest of friends or family, once we put you on the list for the housing, which will done be once you reach your neighborhood, eyes and ears will be watching and we can't risk anyone else getting hurt. We are dealing with seriously dangerous people here. Do you understand me? "

"Yes" you all three answered.

"Good, now Maria and y/n you will have to act as a married couple, when I mean act, I mean acting full out, dates and public affection are mandatory. The only place you can act normal is the safe house's. It will be the only safe place and for you Carol you will be they're best friend and next door neighbor, you guys will watch the operation because Hydra Intel will be passed through during the waiting period until the inhumans arrival. Once they arrive you will storm the place and bring the inhumans here to safety" He then went on about other information, like your fake names and the apartment's addresses, and the date you guys well be returning.

You would be returning same day as your girlfriends, leaving today.

Once you had finished the meeting you had left the bland room and made your way up to your bedroom to pack and change into a different outfit.

When ready, you met Maria outside the compound and waited for Carol inside the car.

The whole drive you talked to Maria about the characters you guys would be playing. you both decided on a couple who couldn't keep your hands of each other.

God how Carol wished to be Maria so bad, so she could feel your lips on her and could be around you 24/7.

Once you arrived to the apartment's Carpark you felt uneasy. Exiting the car you pushed Maria against the car door and gave her a deep kiss you knew eyes where on you as soon as you passed them white, pearly gates and you knew you would have to play by this role to perfection.

-------------------------------------------------------

Once you had finally settled in, around day two on the mission you started introducing your self to the neighborhood including the Hydra agents, you got 'along' with them well, you thought Hydra was your biggest enemy but no your didn't know that the your biggest enemy would be the person you just fake - lovingly hugged in the lobby of the apartment complex, 5 minutes ago.

Carol.

Carol who loved you so deeply so deeply that she would kill for you. she knew about the toxic relationship between you and your girlfriends 'whom you loved so much' the thought of them with you especially in bed made her feel violently sick and oh how she wanted you all for herself.

This mission gave her the perfect opportunity for just that. She knew that you and Maria would go on a fake date today.

After getting ready and changing into a stunning red dress, you waiting for Maria in the lounge, around 15 minutes Maria came out in a lush, Royal blue dress.

"You look stunning Mia!" You remarked with a soft tone.

"Well thank you y/n/n, you too" Maria complimented back.

"let's go 'babe'" you joked and reached out your hand for her to hold. She glady took it and you both way down to the car park.

When you eventually got to the restaurant you notice that hydra agents had followed you here, clearly suspicious not falling for your married couple act yet, but you you didn't notice Carol there to.

Carol's big break happened when you asked whispered to Maria fake finger you under the table, you thought it would help knock of the agents. From the angle she was in it looked fake, but when she moved to an empty booth, it looked real. Maria moved her hand under the table and you pulled certain faces to Make it seem realistic. Carol snapped some pictures, a creepy smile stuck on her face and crept out to her car, once the hydra agents realised what you where 'doing' they soon left and you both laughed at there disturbed faces. After finishing your meal and paying the bill you and Maria headed back to the safe house, tried and wanting to sleep.

Maria eagerly guided you through the lobby and into the hallway, pushing you up against the door putting her lips against yours, making out with you. Carol snapped more pictures smiling to herself. 'Oh this gonna be so good' she thought to herslef.

When you finally got into the house after Maria struggled to put the keys in the hole, because of the steamy make out session, you whispered 'goodnight' which she replied with a friendly smile and off you went to your room to get ready for bed.

-------------------------------------------------------

It was last day on this long mission, Carol seem really happy despite the fact you guys where still ignoring each other, you didn't know why.

It was time to storm the hydra base after watching over it constantly. You had alerted the both of them about the arrival for three inhumans, all had power damping cuffs on which made your job more easier. After getting your suit on and breaking down the door it was action time.

-------------------------------------------------------

Misson failed..

You were so upset with yourself, you completely ingored the fact that you were bleeding out. You had gained a massive wound on your leg where a hydra agent stab you.

During the raid, many other hydra agents appear from a secret room that no one had eyes on. You where out numbered and were only able to get two out of three inhumans.

In your head you replayed the screams of terror and fear that came frlm the girl that you weren't able to save as she was roughly pulled away from the situation by other hydra agents.

Carol sped back to the compound hoping to get back to you back in time, Maria sat next you in the back seat applying pressure to the wound, rambling on to keep you focused and in the moment.

Looking at the two inhumans one seated at the front and one next to maria, you felt terrible for them they looked so tense and stress. This situation definitely didn't help them in any way.

The three of you had to sneak pass everyone, since the team and other agents been told that you all had taken time off. By the time you made it to the medbay You were unconscious. Maria wanted to stay but couldn't risk getting spotted it would make people suspicious, especially if she was seen in the medbay.

-------------------------------------------------------

You woke up to Dr. Cho walking around near you bed.

"Ah, Dr. Cho" you said ammused with a slight rough voice, one the many sideaffects of waking up.

"Hello y/l/n, before you can ramble on with a lot of questions -I know how you act as soon as you wake up in the medbay- you are now stable and will be out soon after I check your some of your vitals"

"Thank you"

"No problem" she asserted with a small smile.

-------------------------------------------------------

When you were in the med bay Carol sneaked through the halls of the large compound and into yours and yours girlfriends room. She carefully set pictures of you and Maria on the bed.

She did feel bad for doing this when you when hurt but she wanted you and wasn't going to wait any longer.

She snuck back out to the car, waiting for you with Maria. After a bit off hesitation you finally got up wincing slightly and snuck out to the car, furry had set up another safe house, immediately after he heard about the incident that had occur. letting out a big sigh once you were seated in the car, a wave of relief washed over you that other agents had picked up the inhumans and that they were safe now.

And with that Maria drove off.

-------------------------------------------------------

Once you made it back to the compound you faked entering as if you had just come back from a sunny holiday, and greeted everyone holding back your limp.

You dumped your bags in the lounge and made it the training area to fake the incident of your wound with Maria, just wanting to get it out the way. After training with Maria you limped over to medbay.

Staying in the medbay bathroom for around 20 minutes for a you shuffled out and made your way back to your room.

In there you saw your girlfriends, screaming you ran to them not caring about the pain. You wrapped your arms around them but when then didn't hug you back you pulled back and looked at them confused, seeing their red eyes, tears rolling down there cheeks "why are you guys crying? "

All of the sudden Wanda slapped you hard making to fall to the ground, you laying there in utter shock, tears rolling down your red cheek .

"What the fuck!?!" you scream out getting back to your feet.

"You cheating, lying bitch!" Wanda snapped at you.

"What are you talking about!?!"

Natasha held up the pictures of you and Maria and your stomach dropped know that this was a big misunderstanding.

"That's not what you thi-" you were cut off.

"I don't want to here it y/n!, Did you enjoy your 'hoilday'?" Wanda yelled, her tone showered with vemon, air quoting the word holiday.

This soon turn into a intense screaming match filled by the most foul, vile insults from your partners well, now ex partners as they had declared that 'they want to break up'.

You sobbed and cried but also started screaming things back to the women infornt of you.

Something you said about Natasha past triggered something in the ex -asssassin, she saw red and all the sudden you were down again but this time it wasn't and slap it was a hard, heavy punch.

Your lip was busted and your forehead was bleeding, you tried to get up but the ex - assassin jumped on you making hit your head on the floor she straddled yor legs unintentionally putting weight on your wound which made everything more painful.

You looked into her eyes, while she moved a hand to your chest to keep down, still screaming insults at you, offending everything about you.

She was trying to break you, and you would be lying if you said that her words didn't hurt like hell, you witness so much anger and hurt brewing in her eyes, she didn't mean this, they didnt mean this, did they? They were clearly blind-sighted by the pure rage they were feeling, right?

You didn't want to hurt the woman that once loved you but when she started punching your face, with no signs of stopping you knew you had to get her off.

You wiggled beneath the woman but was held down by Wanda's powers. You kept on trying to push Natasha off, but to your avail you had no luck.

finally you had an adrenaline surge between the sobbing, the pain caused by the harsh insults and the punching made it almost impossible. With the new found strength you push her off and was able to break through Wanda's powers, Natasha went flying onto the ground landing near the desk, her head starting bleeding form the impact with the floor, Wanda rushed to her side.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y open the door in room 6" you shouted.

You crawled to the door using the doorknob to help you get up.

Your face bloodied and battered up you started to limp out the door only to be met with a huge shock of suprise sharp pain.

Wanda had thrown a pair of scissors with her magic full force into your side.

Your mouth fell agape, almost falling to the floor you were able to catch yourself. A hand went up to the wound clutching it. You stumbled out the room and down the hallway.

You didn't even care to knock, opening the door Carol's head whipped up from her desk. When she saw the state of you she came running.

You partically fell into her arms.

"Y/n! " Carol Blurted out as she caught you. "We need to get you to medbay!"

"No" you breathed out shakily, slowly losing to the strong force of darkness that pulled you closer by the second.

You still loved them whole heartedly and didn't want them to get in trouble, even after doing this to you, you still put them first.

Eventually you lost the challenging battle and fell into unconsciousness.

Carol immediately grabbed her first aid kit and got to work knowing the basics form training.

-------------------------------------------------------

Once you were patched up, stable and comfortable in her bed, Carol stormed out her room and in to your ex- lovers room.

As she burst down the door and seeing wanda tending to Natasha head.

She didn't waste any time and started screaming at the two women, who were still quite angry, Natasha stood up and start Aguring with Carol.

After an other screaming battle, Carol threaten them and told them to stay away from you, as if they wanted to talk to you right now. Packing your stuff she retreated back to her room to take care of her love.

She did feel absolutely terrible to make you suffer, she didn't mean for you to get hurt, but at least you were hers now and she was there to sweep up the pieces of your broken heart and mold you into her little prefect, pretty doll.

-------------------------------------------------------

You woke up, Pain engulfing your body soon followed by the rememberance of last night making your heart drop into your chest grief filling it up to the brim but you noticed a comforting warmness next to you, that gave you hope that is was one of your girlfriends and that everything that happened was a way too realistic nightmare. You turned your head over to see Carol.

That snapped you back into reality harshly.

"Carol?" You groaned, her eyes fluttered opened and she let out a small smile.

"Hi sweetie" her tone welcoming.

"I'm really confused, what happened to the pair of Sisscors lodge into my sid? and-"

She cut you off.

"Shhh,It's okay sweethart I patched you up and dealt with your ex's" she said as she brought and hand up to your face wiping the tears away "I will take care of you until you feel better "she pressed a kiss on your cheek.

"Thank you, i- I'm so sorry" you wept.

"It's okay, honey I'm sorry too" she apologized. Putting her arm around your waist and shuffled next to you, holding you close and as you sobbed.

"Hey, princess can you please try to explain to me what happened so I can get a better understanding of what happened and so you don't have anything lying on your chest, if you do it now you won't have to do it to ever again, promise."

you caught your breath and started explaining "okay... "

-------------------------------------------------------

After explaining to Carol the situation and venting, she gave you more comfort that you desperately neede right now, however it did deepen her guilt but you were here now and that's all that mattered.

After some more cuddling and kisses on the head she left to make breakfast for the both of you.

Walking down she saw Natasha and Wanda acting all lovey like nothing even happened between the three of you, However Natasha did look a bit dazed out, seeing that made Carol's hatred for the women grow.

After making the food, she brought it up to her room and softly woke you up. Eating with you while watching your favourite tv show in bed.

Wanda and Natasha notice her taking two plates up to her room, assuming you were in there, it made them hate you even more for going to the one person they said not too, but hey you weren't with them anymore. After all they wouldn't want 'a weak bitch like you.'

-------------------------------------------------------

After around month of Carol taking caring of you to started making appearances around the compound explaining to the rest of the team that you were still alive and that you 'were in training and you got hurt badly so Carol took care of you for a while'

Everyone had sus-ed out that you, Wanda and Natasha broke up form the way you actively avoided and ignored each other.

During, the period of recovery you fell into great depression, you were so hurt and mad, they didn't even let you explain you thought daily. You also had the burden of that failed misson on your shoulders. you needed to put that hurt and anger somewhere.

Who Knew that, them two advents would mixed and fuel the person you are now.....

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"No! " Wanda screamed at natasha, they were Aguring once again, they missed you so badly but also hated you guts for what 'you did to them'. They weren't the same with out you.

When Natasha left the room in a fit of rage, Wanda started losing her mind, well quite literally her it filled with other people's thoughts and serects. The stress for so many agurements with the other red head during the week, caused another power malfunction.

Wanda found out about Carol's big scandal.

She fell to floor clutching her chest after realising what she did to you, she threw them Scissors at you, you she cause you grand pain mentally and physically, she broke the promise, she Let Natasha beat you mercilessly infront of herself, she let you suffer.

She sobbed aggressively on the floor, hours until Natasha came in. She immediately ran to Wanda, pulling her into her lap

"Wands, what wrong?!?!" She was worried. She knew it wasnt about the agurement because she usually wouldnt cry over an agurement of that scale.

"S-she didn't cheat"

"Huh? What yes she did?"

"Carol set her up, she was on an mission, one that she couldn't tell anyone about, Maria and y/n had to play a married couple it was all fake, everything, the misson failed and y/n got hurt, she almost bled out Nat!, she is assigned to revist it soon, we hurt her badly!, she was innocent all along, we didn't even let her explain"

Natasha bursted out crying at Wanda's words.

They held each other in sorrow and despair. They thought you deserve all the pain but you were innocent.

They were going to get there you back.

-------------------------------------------------------

After calming down they quitely got ready for bed, they miss the cuddles you would smother them with and your sweet laugh. Huddled up in bed wanda explain every little detail about the mission and the together they devised a plan to get you back that they would start tomorrow and with a goodnight kiss the lights when off.

-------------------------------------------------------

In the morning Natasha and Wanda woke up determined to make you Theirs again. They woke up a bit more earlier to run into you, since it was one of your tactics to wake up earlier to prevent running into them. Today they would just watch you form a far to see how you are doing.

After getting ready they made there way to down the kitchen where you sat on island, phone in hand, Carol's hoodie on,hood up. You tensed up at sight of them almost throwing up in fear. You quickly grabbed a bottle of water which was your breakfast and quickly moved back to your girlfriend's room. Yes that's right girlfriend you Carol had started dating after she finally confess and you can't lie you caught feels to after wanda and Natasha left you. You thought wearing Carol's hoodie would be bad idea because if you happened to run into the women again you feared it would anger them.

It made they heart drop knowing that Carol currently had you. They hated it but they would get you back no matter what.

-------------------------------------------------------

You went to get ready for training.

Training was more like self- torture that you inflicted on your self. Carol helped easing some of the pain, but there was still so much left, so you decide to throw yourself into work, especially training for the revist, that little girls screamed taunted you and your dreams.

You always train early so you can avoid everyone especially Wanda and Natasha.

You made your way down to the training floor and started a 2 hour long torture session in a private training room. Pushing yourself pass your limits and still didn't stop. Carol finally came in and was able to get you stop, she carried you to her room while whispering sweet nothings into your hairline, placing you down o the bed to rest.

The two red heads watched this scene with you and Carol unfolded. Wanda noticed how you always cover up more then you used to this started to make her to suspect that you were hiding two things...

-------------------------------------------------------

The ex-spy and witch watched you for a week and were mortified by the out come of their actions. You had changed a lot, you didn't get any sleep due to nightmares of the incident, and wanda was right you stopped eating,you were also trying to actively hide your body since to them you were and 'slut and whore' only drinking water they since insulted you about your body, you tried to change your appearance due to them coming at you for that to and you also became very cold hearted to everyone around you but not towards Carol, no, you were angel towards her.

Today was the last day before the revist and you wanted to train like crazy to make sure you were going to succeed this time.

To your despair you woke up late today because of Carol. She thought that you deserve a rest and turned of your alarm after you fell asleep, drained because of a certain thing you and your girlfriend did.

When you woke up, you realized you where behind scheduled and shot out of bed rushing to get ready for the day.

More frustration was added to your pitiful day when you noticed all of your less revealing training outfits were dirty or in the wash. You had to settle for and training bra and shorts. You grimaced looking in the mirror looking, the two big scars on show.

Wiping your tears away, you made your way down to the training rooms.

However to your horror all the private rooms where in use. Upset you trudged down to train with the rest of the team. You walked into the lagre room you haven't been seen in a while, you felt eyes upon you making you more uncomfortable, wanda and Natasha heart both skipped a beat seeing you, a wave of guilt wash over them as they're saw the large scar on your side and the little scars littered now and again on your face.

"Holy, shit it's Y/n! " Sam shouted out, cheers of excitment filled the room.

You gave everyone a deadly glare avoiding the eyes of your ex-girlfriends and moved to the blue punching bags and put a of pair red, soft gloves on and started the extensive day of training.

-------------------------------------------------------

The team were extremely impressed by your stamina, as you punched away for what felt like hours on end, you felt a pair of arms wrapped around your waist.

"hey, baby, can you maybe take a break, at least from this?" She whispered in your ear as you continued on, completely ignoring her question.

"Please" she asked, stretching out the e.

"No"

"Pretty please"

"Ugh fine!" You Shouted causing the team to look at you.

You broke free form her arms, quickly taking off the gloves and throwing them onto the floor. You moved over to the fight simulator, it was a big glass box that spawned matter- holograms for you to fight.

You stared at the control panel, looking at your options, easy, medium and hard, most people couldn't even make past medium but you wanted to succeed.

After selecting hard, you stepped in starting mentally preparing. You moved into a defense pose, waiting for the countdown to get to zero.

Zero. A buzzer sounded and the fight begun. -------------------------------------------------------

Around 30 minutes, your grunts started getting heavy causing them to escape the glass box and into the main room.

This drew attraction towards you. The whole team stopped what they were doing and watched in pure amazement as you never stopped, you body litter with bruises and cuts, hands bruised and abused, As you mindlessly kept on flipping, punching, kicking, and defending yourself. You never stoppped moving. pulling tricks they had never seen before or didn't even know was humanely possible, it was you vs a lot and you were wining. Around 5 minutes later, the team started getting worried was there notice the tears in your eyes, you refused to let yourslef stop moving. You were like a zombie that couldn't break free.

You hand been in there for around 2 hours now.

"Some turn this off! " Tony ordered, worried about you. Carol ran over to the control pannel and rapidly typed in the pin, pressing the bright right stop button.

As soon as simulation stopped and the the blue holograms fadded away with a zapping sound you fell on your knees started hysterically crying. Carol tried to come in but you screamed no.

That's when Wanda and Natasha knew they had to help you even if you didnt want them to, they were the only one's who knew how to calm you down during times like this.

As they entered the room you didn't notice them until Natasha scooped up your crying form, you fought and screamed more, realising that it was her, hitting her chest over and over again, trying to get out of her grip. She starting walking out the door and into the hallway towards the elevator. Carol rush after the two women.

"Hey, shes mine! " Carol screamed out still rushing after them.

"No!" Wanda whipped around, blasting Carol with her magic making her soar back and tumble to the ground.

Once Wanda joined Natasha in the elevator you had calmed down a bit slightly snuggling into her chest as she held you bridal style, missing her and her scent.

------------------------------------------------------

When Natasha sat down on the bed you guys used to share. She tighten her grip around around you and as Wanda kneel down infornt of you with putting both hands on your thighs. She began talking.

"Im so sorry Dekta, we're so sorry, we know your innocent, Carol framed you" Your eyes widen, and brows furrowed, Carol did this? "We miss you, please come back to us, well didnt mean to break our promise, I know it well take time for you for to trust us again, but let us work on that as a couple, please Dekta come back to us." She said holding eye contact, pleading with her eyes. You nodded.

"Im Sorry, and also sorry for all the insults too" Natasha added, kissing your forehead.

"I forgive, Sorry too for the insults too" you replied.

"Dont be, we deserve it" Wanda said getting up.

"Will you come back to us dekta? " wanda asked.

"Yes" you uttered out.

Natasha immediately showered your face in kisses, cheering you up.

"I'm delighted hunny" Wanda said as she took you out of Natasha arms and into hers. "let's get you cleaned up".

-------------------------------------------------------

Wanda carried you to the bathroom, and set you done on the counter, Natasha helped you get undress as, Wanda turned on the shower and set aside some of her's and Natasha's clothes for you to wear for when you finish.

Once you were undress, Wanda had return to you and Natasha.

"Do you mind if we join?" Wanda asked with a smile.

"I don't mind" you returned the smile to her.

After Nat and wands got undress they helped you into the shower.

Natasha stood behind you as she washed the grime out of your hair as Wanda lathered up the loofah as softly washed your body. Natasha and wands soon clean up each other, scrubbing off the thin layer of dirt from training.

The ex - spy soon left, soon coming back wrapping you, herself and wands a up in big white, fluffy towels, giving you both a big kiss.

After Nat blowdried your hair and braided it.

Wanda helped you get dressed leaning down and kissing your scar.

"I'm so sorry"

"It's okay" you empathized cupping her face, she leant into your touch, happy to have you back.

Once you were all dressed, you were thrown onto the king size bed, then suffocate by the two redheads. You were devoured by there beefy arms, happy to die this way.

finally you felt safe and happy again, ready for the revist. You could take on the world with your special girls.

-------------------------------------------------------

Nat and Wanda held you as could as they physically could, they watched you as your chest rised and fell over and over again. Happy that you finally were getting a good night's of sleep. They soon fell into slumber too.

They loved you so much, they would get Carol back for making them hurt and break you, they were going to make it painful and torturess, Ruin her and her life but they didn't want their little angel to know about the pure pain that there were going to inflict on this women, especially not when you had had a big day tomorrow...

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Hiii :) I Hope you enjoyed this, it took like 3 days!!!

Part two here

[zilabee]

Living The Beatles Legend:

After a lifetime of self-doubt over body issues and inveterate shyness, he simply couldn’t control himself. “Big Mal was a demon for sex,” Tony wrote. “[...] Like sacrificial virgins, a lot of the girls willingly accepted that they would have to do it with Mal to get to John, Paul, George, or Ringo, and Mal knew it.”

“A couple of newspaper friends put on a private show involving several prostitutes for our entertainment, one of them being very pregnant.” As Mal recalled, “It was a little unnerving to have these ladies performing before our eyes with each other in one room, with Brian, George Martin and Judy, and the rather more staid members of the press in the adjoining living room.”

“I was being entertained by a young lady late one evening,” Mal wrote, “when George rushes into the darkened room, stoned out of his mind, tearing the bedclothes off, shouting, ‘My turn next—come on, give us a bit!’” Mal gave way to the Beatle, concluding that “apart from that, I was the one that got screwed.”

By this point, [Lily] wasn’t just finding “silly groupie letters” in his suitcase, but also the occasional stray pair of knickers and other telltale signs of infidelity. She recognized that Mal was being seduced—and had been for some time—by overwhelming forces, impulses with which she could hardly begin to compete.

After her brother returned from the States, June recalled that “Malcolm came home knackered, absolutely shattered from that tour.” [...] Her brother and the Beatles were living in a “totally unreal world—an extraordinary, horrendous, wonderful, terrible place that they were all existing in during that period. And they were all damaged by it. They suddenly could have anything they wanted.”

After sharing a convivial dinner with Victoria’s father, who retired early, Mal (31yo) and Victoria (16yo) returned to the hotel and went up to the twenty-seventh floor. [..] “Mal was very sweet,” she recalled, “and we talked and we talked, and we sort of made out.” And while she was unable to meet the Beatles the next morning to do an interview, she exchanged contact information with Mal. And later that year, the letters from her new pen pal began arriving, elegantly adorned with “this beautiful British handwriting.” *

Eventually, Mal would develop a vital relationship of his own with the Scruffs, although he had his detractors—namely, Carol Bedford, a peripheral member of their scrum and a George aficionado who later claimed that Mal tried to put the moves on her. Apparently, Mal had continued to approach women in the Beatles’ universe in the same transactional manner in which he and Neil had “auditioned” willing fans during the band’s touring years. Another Apple Scruff recalled a similar instance when Mal’s attempts to cozy up to the Scruffs went terribly wrong. Apparently, he had crawled under one of the girls’ blankets and “touched something he shouldn’t have.” With that, the offended Scruff came flying out from under the blanket yelling, “Who do you think you are, Paul McCartney?” **

Since leaving the hospital, [Arwen (21yo)] had reared Little Malcolm in her cramped lodgings in West Hampstead. At some point, around the age of six months, he was put up for adoption, leaving her care lock, stock, and barrel, with Mal’s teddy bear as the baby’s only consolation. Mal’s diary would enumerate lunches and telephone calls with the young woman at various points across 1969, but eventually, Arwen chose to move on, putting the whole painful episode behind her. ***

[For his son's birthday] Mal made a cassette recording in which he offered his sincere wishes for the coming year. [...] But any goodwill Mal hoped to deliver was quickly undone that morning as Gary listened to the recording over breakfast with his mother and sister. To his incredible pain and embarrassment, the tape didn’t end with his father’s birthday greeting. Apparently, Mal had recycled the cassette, and as Gary and his sister prepared to go to school, they heard the unmistakable sounds of Fran fellating their dad. The boy’s only solace was the knowledge that his eight-year-old sister didn’t understand the sounds emanating from the tape player.

[..]for the first time, Fran found herself afraid of her boyfriend, whose darkness had never been more acute. It all came to a head one night when Mal, drunk to the gills, began threatening her with his Colt Woodsman pistol, at one point placing the gun against her head before discharging it into the washing machine. When he sobered up, Mal couldn’t have been more apologetic, swearing to mend his ways and be the boyfriend she deserved.

____________________________________

Another quote under the cut, with trigger warning for rape and attempted suicide - and a few notes about some of it.

____________________________________

June 1964 - New Zealand

At the time, the official story involved a twenty-year-old female fan who, having secreted her way into the hotel, chose to slash her wrists in Mal’s room after being unable to talk her way into the Beatles’ suite. Fortunately, police caught sight of the young woman through a window and broke down the locked door with a battering ram. She was subsequently taken to a local hospital and discharged that same day.

[There are then some bits about how Derek tried to ensure it didn't link back to the Beatles in anyway, and the way the press reported it as "Girl Tries To Die For Beatles", and someone else claiming she'd actually had sex with someone and then got 'hysterical' because she realised he wasn't going to get her in to see the Beatles... but eventually it cuts to the quote from Mal's diary below.]

“On arriving back at the hotel at two in the morning,” he wrote, “I was greeted by a crowd of police and detectives as the elevator doors opened at my floor. On verifying that I occupied a particular room number, they very solemnly escorted me there, where to my horror on opening the door, I found the bathroom and bedroom covered in blood. Apparently, what had happened [was] several people had gang-banged her in my bedroom. She was so distraught, she took a razor blade from my razor and slashed her wrists, but was discovered in time and recovered in hospital. Obviously I was a prime suspect, but I had the best alibi in the world—I was drinking tea with her mother.” ****

____________________________________

* Victoria was 16, and Mal was 31. He wrote with her for a few years and met up with her again several times, and there's a quote where she says she "thought she was in love with him", and another where she was surprised to find out he was married. He's a grown man with a family and it's creepy as fuck that he was leading on/grooming a 16 year old girl - although I think according to the book they never had sex.

** I've bolded a lot of the wording which fucks me the fuck off in that passage about apple scruffs, what a fucking weird piece of writing. Apparently apparently apparently - I don't even think he's using it to suggest it might not be true, I think he's just using it to make it sound a bit casual, oh turns out he was just treating them like shit like he used to! Oh he was just 'cozying up' ??????? The last bit also feels like the girl being able to fight her corner and tell him off is being used to suggest it therefore didn't matter - not to suggest that there were probably lots of other girls who didn't want his hands on them but didn't know how to say no. It's also quickly followed by a quote of another apple scruff saying he took care of them like a big brother and they all loved him. Which is fine. But teenage girls feeling as though the creepy guy who is being nice to them in order to take advantage is just being nice to them, doesn't mean much. It's creepy that he was trying to befriend the young vulnerable girls that idolised anyone who worked with Beatles, you've literally just said he was doing it in a 'transactional manner'.

*** The author used a pseudonym for Arwen - a young woman that Mal had an affair and a child with. He wrote in his diary when the child was born, and visited them, "gifting the boy with an oversize teddy bear from Harrods". Personally I think 'chose to move on' covers an awful lot of pain very glibly. Imagine having to give your baby away after six months, imagine what she went through. It is not a small thing that he carelessly got a young woman pregnant and then offered her nothing.

**** I think we all live in Beatles fandom knowing that the people we enjoy did awful terrible things, but sometimes it's good to confront how bad it was, even if we'll never know who was involved in this particular incident. Or how often it happened to other women. Whether Beatles were involved here or not, they were around this, they were inside it. They were influenced by and friends with horrible people. Imagine writing that in your diary like it's a good joke that you were having tea with her mum while she was going through that, and not how awful that would actually feel if you had a heart. The author adds that this incident affected Mal, saying, "His “demon” persona was still alive and well, to be sure, but there would be perceptible shifts in his outlook as the group’s touring days moved forward." I didn't really pick up on these, so I'm not sure how so.

[xxdoompatrolxx]

INTRO POST!!!

Hello! I'm Kaleigh but you can call me Kay if we are close :) she/her any are fine though (16) Bisexual Favorite things: Video games (OLD GAMES ESPECIALLY), Horror/Comedy movies, True crime cases, Poetry, Anatomy, Old things, Fanfiction, Cards, Weapons, Video game Emulators, Music, Animals, and TV shows. you can ask for my socials if you want to become friends I mostly use Discord, but my messages are open. I don't have really any dni's but one I have is don't be racist or I'll just block you if you don't take to my liking. FAVORITE GAMES: Postal, Doom, Playboy Mansion, GTA, Tony Hawk's Pro Skater/Underground, Sally Face, South Park: The Fractured But Whole, Emily is Away, Half-Life, Scribblenauts Unlimited, Roblox, Nintendogs, Pac-man Party, etc TOO MANY. FAVORITE SYSTEMS: Nintendo 64, SNES, NES, Every PlayStation But PS2 is amazing, Xbox 360, Xbox 1, WiiU, and Wii. FAVORITE MOVIES: Natural Born Killers, Almost Famous, Every American Pie, Every Jackass, Every Austin Powers, Buffalo '66, Texas Chainsaw Massacre 1/2, Scream, Bride of Chucky, Butterfly Effect, Saw, The Sandlot, Stand by Me, The Breakfast Club, Dumb and Dumber, and My Friend Dahmer. FAVORITE SHOWS: Eastbound & Down, Daria, Clone High, Malcolm in the Middle, Hamtoro, Family Guy, Breaking Bad, South Park, Aqua Teen Force, King of the Hill, Fallout, F is for Family, Big Mouth, Friends, Wonder Showzen, Full House, Moral Orel, That '70s Show, Freaks and Geeks, MTV Cribs, Rock of Love, American Horror Story, Beavis and Butt-head, Saturday Night Live, The Tom and Jerry Show, We Bare Bears, Powerpuff Girls, Dexter's Laboratory, Johnny Bravo, and Pokemon. FAVORITE MUSIC: Nirvana, KMFDM, Rammstein, Prodigy, Nine Inch Nails, Descendents, Seether, Beastie Boys, Korn, Etc. Spotify: neon.dogg SHOUTOUTS TO THE BEST FRIENDS: @contraculture and @nyaturalbornkiller and @scoutingout5 :3

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

MARTHA'S IS PRETTY ROMANTIC - CHAPTER TWO: JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY

summary: a lot can happen over two days, but the stand-out event just had to be that time you went to that restaurant and discovered that you didn't really enjoy seeing tyson flirt with other people. also: who the fuck is jamie?

warnings: awkwardness, mentions of anxiety, swearing, alcohol consumption, meddling, sexual tension, jealousy (both parties), tyson kind of being a dick

word count: 9.9k

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Mat and Toni, respectively, were on a mission. Oddly enough, neither of them had actually discussed their missions, because neither one was aware of the other’s mission. Mat didn’t know what Toni had been chatting about with you, and Toni didn’t know what Mat had been talking about with Tyson on the boat the day before.

But they each had a plan.

Both involved leaving you and Tyson alone at any possible opportunity. Take now, for instance, Toni was completely set on wringing the truth out of Mat about you and Tyson – but only after she’d insisted that she and Mat have a wander around some shops by themselves. That way she could kill two birds with one stone: talk to Mat and leave you and Tyson alone. (She had every intention of talking to Mat after tea, but as soon as the door shut…)

It was how you found yourself sitting at the window of yet another cute cafe, Tyson’s hat askew on your head after he kept complaining about it itching his forehead (he’d patted you rather condescendingly on your cheek when he placed it on you), the man himself at the till ordering your breakfast. There was a gift shop opposite, and it had taken approximately three people to walk out, all bearing paper bags for the idea to come to you.

“A cappuccino with pancakes, milady.” The tray was placed in front of you, as was a glass bottle with am orchid poking out of the top, and you looked up to come face to face with a grinning Tyson, who, after sitting down opposite you, rubbed his hands excitedly, “Fuck me, I’m starving.”

Your eyes wearily scanned over the heads of people in the near vicinity, a little worried that some kid had overheard, but everyone seemed consumed in their own company – no children in sight. You sat up a little straighter.

Martha’s was pretty romantic, wasn’t it?

You swallowed, trying to clear your mind, and almost as soon as your eyes landed on the food in front of you, you felt your stomach rumble loudly, “Me too.”

Tyson nodded, mouth full of his own stack of pancakes, and you stifled a laugh at his impatience, taking a sip of the coffee. 

It had been less awkward than you’d initially expected – waking up next to Tyson – considering the comments you’d so thoughtlessly said. He’d actually not even been in bed when you’d woken up, and it took you getting dressed and wandering downstairs to find him also dressed, sitting on the porch swing with a glass of juice as he watched the water peacefully.

(You would have gone back inside after finding him, had he not spotted you and patted the place next to him – but you decided the extra time with him couldn’t hurt. And anyway, you’d both mostly just sat in silence, not really having anything to say.)

It wasn’t until you’d finished eating your pancakes, both your cups of coffee half-empty that you started talking, his eyes instantly snapping to yours, “I think I’m going to get something for Mat and Toni as a thank you for letting me crash their vacation, d’you want in on it?”

Tyson nodded, “Sounds good. You got any ideas?”

You shook your head, “There’s a gift shop across the street, I thought we could start there?”

“That’s fine by me.” 

You offered a small smile, wondering if you were imagining the tension as Tyson averted his eyes back out of the window. 

And you also didn’t know if he noticed your lingering stares, or if he purposefully chose to ignore it altogether. In fact, you were sure you’d rather it be the former, but you weren’t exactly being subtle. It was always pretty easy to notice when someone had just looked away from you when you looked straight at them – and each time Tyson caught you, you could almost draw the look on his face as he pressed his lips together to muffle a smirk.

“You done?” Tyson leant forwards across the table, peering into your empty coffee mug.

“Yeah.” You nodded, grabbing your bag from the back of your chair, a little distracted by something as your eyes scanned every person sitting at the table.

There were flowers on each table, as well as a few candles, and above the door were more flowers, and everything seemed to be a shade of pastel. The entire cafe seemed…lovey. Ribbons were wrapped around the cakes, and when you thought about it, even your pancake had a heart drawn out in whipped cream.

You hadn’t noticed you weren’t paying full attention to your surroundings until Tyson’s hand shot out to move a chair out of your way, knuckles protecting your leg from an inevitable bruise.

“Are you okay?” He mumbled, and you met his eyes, nodding a little overwhelmed.

His eyes were flickering across your face, no trace of a smile on his lips as he opened his mouth again. You waited for him to say something, but instead he stayed put and silent. It wasn’t until he raised his brows, more out of concern than amusement, that you remembered he’d asked you a question and you hadn’t answered.

“I’m fine.” You said weakly, flashing a tight smile.

He clearly didn’t buy it, but he nodded and continued the winding journey around the tables to get to the door, you at his heels, where he held the door open for you.

It was almost a relief to see the pavement and breathe in non-baked-treat air. It seemed to calm your raging mind – from where that little thing had come from, you didn’t quite know, but it was weird. 

It wasn’t until Tyson was stepping up next to you, a strange look on his face that you realised quite what it was.

It was panic. 

What for?

You didn’t quite know.

“You sure you’re good?” He asked, “You look a bit shaken up.”

“I’m fine, I just didn’t realise how…cutesy everything was here.”

He tilted his head, “What do you mean?”

You swallowed, looking right to avoid his stare. It felt insignificant and a little embarrassing to be admitting it out loud, but this was Tyson.

You’d passed him neon dino undies last night.

“Martha’s is pretty romantic, you were right.” You mumbled, crossing your arms protectively.

His face didn’t waver one bit, and you were glad, “Thought you said you weren’t allergic to romance?”

Your shoulders shrugged before you could stop it, “I wouldn’t really know.”

Tyson swallowed, a little confused by your words. You still looked distracted, eyes bouncing everywhere, cheeks a little red. If he didn’t know better, he’d have assumed you were about to bolt back to the house, but you stayed cemented to the concrete beneath your shoes, completely unmoving. 

And he was about to inquire as to what you meant by that, because his mind was running around pretty quickly.

You wouldn’t know if you were allergic to romance? He had some serious questions, and if his hunch was right, he was about to get pretty pissed with some specific people that you—

Your eyes had settled. They were still moving, but the motion was less hectic and stressed. He followed your gaze, mouth parting at what you were looking at. It was an elderly couple walking down the other side of the street, hands clasped together, and bright smiles plastered on their faces as they conversed with each other.

Oh.

“You…” He started, trailing off. If he was being honest, he wasn’t quite sure where to start that conversation, or if he should start it.

But he knew what you were trying to say.

You turned to him, brow raised and a sigh leaving your mouth, “The gift shop?” 

He just nodded.

***

You and Tyson were the first ones back at the house, feet sore and legs a little achy, immediately seeking out the comfort of the soft sofa cushions, deep sighs of satisfaction released from your very souls. Neither of you said a word to each other as Tyson took one end of the sofa and you took the other, feet stretched and overlapping in the centre, eyes glued to the TV screen.

There were much better views to be had in the house alone; the porch swing you’d both sat at earlier was wonderful, but once you’d walked through the front door, all of that logic had just vanished the moment the sofa was in your eyeline. It was comfy – much too comfy to even consider the thought of having to haul yourself up and walk back outside.

By the time the front door opened and the sound of Mat and Toni’s voices travelled through the corridor, Tyson was asleep, head resting uncomfortably on his shoulder, and you were blinking sleepily, the bags by the side of the sofa just out of reach.

“Oh, they’re here–”

You widened your eyes, a finger pressed to your lips as you pointed at Tyson’s sleeping form. His arms were folded against his chest, and it took Mat to lean over his head to see his closed eyes for him to believe you. He pulled a shocked face, disappearing into the hall where Toni was lining up their own bags at the bottom of the stairs, and dragged her out into the living room to laugh at Tyson.

“He’s gonna be so sore when he wakes up.” Mat whispered, once again eyeing Tyson’s positioning, “What did you do to him?”

You shrugged, “Nothing, we just walked around all day. We actually got you guys something, but I’d wait until he wakes up first.”

Toni silently cooed, a hand over her heart as she rounded the sofa to get a look at Tyson, “How long has he been asleep?”

“About twenty minutes.”

“Can I get a photo of you two?” Toni asked, already pulling out her phone, and you hesitated, eyes drifting to the way Tyson’s curls seemed to hang over his eyes with the low angle of his head. 

He looked kind of adorable, actually. It wasn’t until Toni was encouraging you to look at the camera that you realised it was the first time you’d actually seen him asleep – he’d woken up earlier than you in the morning, and you’d both slept back-to-back in bed, limbs almost hanging off the edges because you were both too conscious of accidentally touching each other.

In fact, now that you were thinking about it, you weren’t sure he even slept a full eight hours. You’d both gone to bed pretty late, and he’d woken up early – you thought at the time the puffy-eyes were because he’d only just woken up, but now you were looking at him so completely out of it, that it had you wondering if he actually got any sleep at all.

You smiled as best as you could, though after Toni had lowered her phone, it dropped instantly. Mat fidgeted from the doorway, bringing bags of groceries through into the kitchen and shooting you a questioning glance.

“Should we wake him up?” He asked, wandering back into the living room, something else hidden in his eyes. It felt like you were missing something, but you weren’t well-versed enough in the ‘looks’ of Mr Barzal to catch onto what he was trying to ask.

You shook your head, “I don’t know if he slept properly last night. He went to sleep after me and he’d been out of bed a while by the time I went downstairs.”

“When did you wake up?”

“Eight-ish.”

Mat nodded, swallowing, before nodding, “Leave him until we’ve done dinner.”

You agreed, your attention going back to the TV until Mat and Toni had left the room. Then you turned to Tyson, where his feet were by your head, him pressed into the back of the sofa and you on the edge. If you moved or got out, you weren’t sure if he’d wake up at the lack of warmth, or if he’d be disturbed by the sofa dipping. 

So you decided to stay put until Mat and Toni started cooking. Then, and very carefully, you peeled yourself off the cushions, cringing everytime Tyson seemed to twitch or move in his sleep – which was more or less successful, especially when you dared to risk putting a cushion between his head and shoulder, attempting to alleviate the inevitable neck cramp he’d experience when he’d wake up later.

And even though none of you were trying to be quiet, pottering around in the kitchen or conversing (the TV was also still on), Tyson still didn’t wake up. In fact, he seemed to slip further from the arm of the sofa until he was laid horizontally on the cushions, rolling over at one point to face the back. 

It would have been endearing if you weren’t so worried about him.

And even after all the food had been cooked, and even after you’d filled him a plate up, not even the smell could wake him up.

“You gonna wake him up? Yeah, thanks.” It was Mat, escaping quickly out of the back door and joining Toni on the patio, leaving you alone in the kitchen, your sole focus still glued on the curly haired brunette curled up.

For some reason you’d expected Tyson to snore.

You stood at the front of the sofa, arms crossed. Waking people up was always a tricky thing to do, especially because it was always strangers you had to rouse; people were fussy and mardy about being woken up, but some people were impossible.

And you had a feeling Tyson belonged in the latter group, with the way he’d slept through the noise and commotion.

“Tys?” You asked, rather awkwardly trying to avoid touching him.

Nothing.

You sighed, reaching down to his jean-clad knee and shaking it. When that didn’t work, you contemplated tickling his feet, but the risk of getting kicked in the face was a little off-putting, and then you found yourself poking his cheek. Judging by the warmth radiating off him, you gathered he was pretty snug.

You threw a cautious glance over your shoulder, checking to ensure no one was watching through the window into the back garden, before kneeling down in front of the sofa, by Tyson’s head, and – rather nervously – reaching a hand into his hair. If nothing else worked, head or back scratches were always a pretty good shot.

“Tyson?” You murmured, nails gently scratching his scalp (his hair was softer than you’d imagined), and getting caught in his curls.

It took you using your other hand to flick his earlobe for a sign of life: he hummed, rolling onto his back and simultaneously forcing your hands off him. His eyes were still shut, face half-screwed up, and you held back a small laugh at his sleepy state.

“Tys,” you started, voice soft, “dinner’s ready.”

He slowly blinked awake, eyes immediately squinting at the lights above, before yawning and rolling his head towards you and scratching the beginnings of his facial hair on his chin, clearly a little confused.

“What?” He mumbled, a crease between his brows as he pushed himself up onto his elbows.

“Dinner. We’re eating outside.” You stood, pointing to the back door, where you knew he’d be able to see the outside lights from where he was laying.

“Already?” He asked, swinging his legs over the side and lifting his bare wrist up to his face, “What time is it?”

“Six.” 

His eyes widened, and he stood up next to you, stretching and groaning at the relief in his joints. A rough palm cupped the side of his neck and he frowned at the dull ache, “How come no one woke me up?”

“We weren’t sure how much sleep you got.” You said, a little uncertain.

He nodded, though, but didn’t say anything else on the matter, “It takes a day or two for me to be able to sleep in a bed that’s not mine.”

You nodded, your gaze sympathetic as you led him to the back door, where Mat and Toni were sitting at the outside table opposite each other, drinks in hand and pasta bowls full, two empty seats next to them. When Tyson followed behind you, Mat cheered and Toni made a joke, but Tyson only shrugged, taking the seat opposite you, immediately digging into his food.

You snuck glances at him throughout the meal, noticing he had a little more colour than earlier – which wasn’t something you immediately noticed – and that the bags under his eyes looked less severe. Letting him sleep had clearly been the right idea.

“Right.” Mat clapped his hands together, before pointing to the conservatory behind Tyson and Toni, “Pool tournament anyone?”

You froze, mid-sip of your G&T, a pebble of dread settling in your stomach. Automatically, your eyes flickered to Tyson opposite, hoping he’d provide you with some reaction, but he was looking straight at Mat, a competitive gleam in his eye as he grinned, “I’m down. What’re the teams?”

And because you were still looking at Tyson over the top of your glass, admiring his almost childlike excitement, you missed the look Toni shared with Mat.

“Me and Tyson?” Toni spoke up, twirling with her earring as her attention focused on you.

In fact, after you’d swallowed another mouthful of your drink, all three pairs of eyes were on you, and you hastily turned to Mat, finding yourself nodding before you could even dare to protest.

You’d expected Mat to go with Toni considering their relationship and all, but you were probably in pretty secure hands if Mat was your teammate too (besides, you got the impression he’d probably be a little more honest with you than Tyson).

It was how you found yourself in the conservatory thirty-seven minutes later, holding a pool cue and dreading your turn. 

You hadn’t played pool in ages, and your skill wasn’t that great then, so you’d prepared yourself for a game of failure and maybe a little embarrassment, but the alcohol would hopefully give you the confidence to embrace that fact.

Only, it seemed you didn’t have to worry too much about your ability, because everyone else was a little too inebriated to concentrate on hitting the ball accurately, and by the time it got to your turn, the only thing you couldn’t play off as the alcohol was actually holding the cue in your hands. You placed a hand on the table, mindful of the nearby balls, and lifted your palm onto your fingertips, slotting the cue between the crevice of your thumb and pointer finger. 

Now for the aim: you looked down the cue, lining it up with the cue ball, which was also straight on and in line with a solid ball. If you slammed the cue ball into the solid ball, you’d knock it against the side and…more or less near a pocket.

In your peripherals you could hear Mat and Toni muttering to each other, shoulder to shoulder – clearly no love lost even despite the competition – and you inhaled, steadying your hands, before pulling the cue back and smacking the cue ball; only your angle was a little off, and the ball landed…just shy of the pocket.

You stood up, unable to help beaming to yourself. It wasn’t as bad as you’d initially predicted. 

“Boom.” Mat stepped forward, knuckles bumping against yours in celebration.

“You can do the next one.” You mumbled, taking a step towards the shelf on the wall and drinking a mouthful of your drink.

When you turned back around, the first thing you saw was Tyson. He was standing on the opposite side of the table, both hands clasping his cue, and his eyes were trained on you. He caught your stare, pointedly glancing back at the table before mouthing ‘you’re going down, fucker’.

You stifled a grin, and if it were months earlier, you’d have probably teased back something along the lines of ‘on who, you?’, but this was now, and something had admittedly changed the entire dynamic of your friendship – probably for the worse, because as much as you tried to deny it, with all the odd tense moments, there was something beginning to nag at the back of your mind that nothing good could come of it, and you were downright petrified of even the thought of not having Tyson in your life.

So you stuck your middle fingers up at him in playful competitiveness, a dead serious look on your face, ‘in your fucking dreams’.

The smirk and adamant shake of his head in response did nothing to change the fact that you and Mat absolutely thrashed Tyson and Toni. So much so that Tyson pushed you into the pool after teasing him too much, though not before you could grab his shirt and pull him in after you.

You both went to bed with aching cheeks after that.

***

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you looked up at the owner of the shadow that had darkened the printed words in your book significantly – not that you needed to look at him; you would have recognised his voice through a fucking whisper – and faced an extremely familiar silhouette, blocking your strip of sun on the lounger. His chest was heaving a little and his entire upper body seemed to be glistening with sweat, even to the edge of his curls as they caught the sunlight, and he stood before you with his hands on his hips, looking undeniably and frustratingly attractive, “where were you this morning?”

You blinked, finding some semblance of safety and solace behind the dark lenses of your sunglasses, eyes secretly roaming…everywhere. You weren’t aware of the phenomenon of someone getting unbearably more attractive by the day, but you were absolutely certain the person standing in front of you was experiencing it in real-time.

Like the day before, you’d woken up by yourself in bed. The sting of disappointment was still there, but you’d managed to get yourself used to it; your expectations were lower and a part of you seemed to acknowledge the fact that his hockey schedule had his internal clock waking up about two hours earlier than you. According to Toni, the same went for Mat, too.

His broad shoulder shrugged, “I went to the gym with Mat and then we both went on a run for a bit. Why, d’you miss me?”

“I just haven’t seen you before ten in the morning, yet.” You excused, moving your hand to shield yourself from the onslaught of the sun – to say it was late morning and the back garden at the house Mat had rented was facing away from the sun, it wasn’t half blazing.

Tyson raised his brows, his cheeks still a little red from the exercise, “You mean you want to see me before ten?”

In truth, somehow you felt as though things between you and Tyson had eased a little – despite the fact this was the first time you were even interacting with the man since last night; something had just been sorted. It felt as though a squeaky joint had been oiled, though you felt partially that it was the buffer of one day separating you from the awkward comment you’d made about dressing him.

Nevertheless, you welcomed the previous ease with a smile and a fluttering heart. After all, he was standing in front of you perfectly tanned and sweaty and with a glorious smile on his face as he looked straight at you. There wasn’t really anything you could complain about.

“I mean,” you started, “I’d like to at least wake up with you in bed.”

He swallowed, “Oh, really?”

“It’d make me feel less like a lazy-ass.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“No.” For some reason, you were gripped by a sense of boldness that had never really shown itself, “I bet you look cute in your PJ’s.”

Even in the ensuing silence you didn’t take your eyes off of him. It felt like a pointless exercise at this point.

Except, what he answered next seemed to just blow your mind into smithereens.

“I only wear boxers.”

The shorts he’d gone jogging in weren’t all that long compared to the usual sports attire you’d seen him in and the tease of imagining him in only boxers – like the night you’d made that god-awful comment – sent your mind spiralling and your cheeks heating in misplaced anticipation. You knew he looked good in boxers; anything that highlighted the bulk of his thighs and the muscles in his chest and abs seemed to do the job, and knowing that each night so far he’d been sleeping in so little couldn’t help but render you into speechlessness.

Still, you feigned indifference, “I stand by what I just said.”

“I wear a PJ-based outfit nearly everyday,” he excused, swiping a hand across his face, “I’m gonna go shower and then I’ll come back out. Where’s Mat and Toni?”

“Toni’s wandering around and Mat’s in the shower I think.”

“In that case, I’ll be back down soon.”

“‘Kay.”

And Tyson remained true to his promise, returning not even ten minutes later wearing a pair of swimming trunks and a smile as he plopped down on the empty bed next to you, a bottle of sunscreen in his hand. Your eyes remained loyally on the book in your hands, even as he began lathering himself in sunscreen, his skin almost shimmering in the glint of the sunlight.

At least, you didn’t look until his struggle became a little obvious.

“Do you think you could get my back? Please?” He asked, twisting from where he was sitting, the bottle still in his hand but within reachable distance.

In all honesty, you never even had the thought to say no. Why would you?

“Sure.” You tucked your bookmark into the crease of your book, placing it on the bed before swinging your legs over the side of the lounger, choosing to spray the suncream onto the palms of your hands first instead of straight onto his back.

It was no secret that Tyson, along with the general hockey population, had broad shoulders. It was hard to miss; sometimes the seams on his t-shirts stretched a little too much for comfort, or sometimes the seams just simply weren’t aligned with the angles and joints of his shoulders. It wasn’t something you hadn’t noticed before, but it was a whole other thing to experience when your hands were touching him.

He was warm, and his skin was deliciously soft. 

It was actually the first time you’d ever touched him skin-to-skin, and he seemed to remember that fact entirely when he shivered, bending his head to his feet to hide the planes of his face from your suspicious eyes. Only, once you’d touched him, it seemed to leave an uncomfortable tingling in your palms.

“Hang on, I think I missed a spot.” You mumbled, squirting some more lotion into your hands.

The relief seemed to kick in when your hands were back on his skin once more, and the confusion of that realisation seemed to send your heart hammering so forcefully against your ribs that it was almost painful.

Tyson’s back was so covered in suncream by the end of it, you’d be shocked if he even got any tanning done in the first place. 

He cleared his throat when you clicked the lid back on the bottle, but when he turned back around, there was a little extra something in his eyes when he looked at you. His eyes usually were softer with you, but there was something else hidden in the depths of the dark pools; something you couldn’t quite translate, because you’d never exactly seen that specific kind of look directed at you.

Ever.

You swallowed, trying to ignore the immediate and instantaneous flush of your cheeks as you ducked your head, tucking some hair behind your ear just to give your hands something else to do to distract yourself from the dissatisfaction at not touching him still.

You thought the idea of losing Tyson was the most terrifying thing you’d ever imagined, but it was nothing compared to the devastation you could experience if it meant you’d never be able to do…that. 

And that seemed to send you spiralling a little.

Until, of course, he intervened.

“Do you want me to do your back?” He posed, an empty hand held out.

You nodded, swinging your legs over the other side of the lounger. If anything it gave you time to stall and reorganise your own face so that when you inevitably looked at him again, you’d at least appear somewhat normal.

This is what Tyson had meant when he’d told Mat your relationship was complicated.

His hands were like an antidote to the thoughts swirling in your mind, and for a brief moment, everything went silent. He took his time, hands even smoothing under the strap of your bikini, yet not straying into disrespectful territory. You wondered if he was having the same internal monologue as you, but even though you tried to ignore it, there was a small part of you wondering if this was something he had come to terms with a while ago – especially if he’d told that to Mat so long ago.

Nothing seemed to quieten your mind when, not even five minutes later, you turned back to your book. Your eyes were skimming pointlessly over the words, but nothing was quite registering, the main voice heard being the one in your mind, practically screaming mindless and senseless theories at you whilst Tyson laid peacefully next to you.

***

The rest of the day seemed to go by like someone had held in a fast-forward button: nothing but a blur of light and colours or a cacophony of sound. You knew nothing extensively productive had been done; mostly just relaxing by the beach and pool respectively, trying to recuperate the energy everyone had burnt and spent yesterday.

And naturally, after a full day of lounging around, you’d all pretty much agreed dinner out was the best way to go: you’d yet to go to a local restaurant, and no one could really be bothered actually cooking after the barbeque yesterday (there was also the washing up, and absolutely no one was willing to stick their hands in a scalding tub of water in this hot weather).

It took about ten minutes to decide on which restaurant to choose that’d cater to everyone’s tastes, and you were pretty glad at how it had turned out. The place wasn’t too busy, and by the time you’d all sat down at the table and already managed to work your way through two rounds of drinks, the role of ordering the next round had miraculously fallen to you.

It was how you found yourself leaning against a sticky bartop, forearms aching slightly at the pressure of leaning against the wood. The drinks you’d had so far hadn’t kicked in yet or provided you with some relief to get away from Tyson’s burning gaze and dim the sharp awareness you seemed to have developed in the last twenty-four hours, but even so, you didn’t notice the figure next to you until he’d shuffled close enough for you to smell his cologne and feel the material of his shirt against your bare upper arm.

“Woah.” You muttered, taking a sidestep to avoid getting shoved into.

Luckily, the guy didn’t follow your movements, but when you turned to see what had happened, he was wearing a friendly smile and holding his hand out for you to shake – not only was it a little creepy, probably trouble, but it was entirely inconvenient considering the fact that you could still feel Tyson’s searing stare on you from the other side of the room.

Your skin prickled with it, and you felt kind of glad you’d been told to get the next round because at least it was an excuse to get some fresh air without feeling so on edge all the time (and it wasn’t even like Tyson had done anything – that was all you, which made it all the more difficult to deal with).

“Sorry, I tried getting your attention but I don’t think you heard me.” The man explained politely, his hand still suspended between you both, “I’m Jamie.”

You tilted your head, taking him in. There was something about him that was vaguely familiar, like you’d either met him before or he just had one of those annoying faces that reminded you of someone you couldn’t put your finger on; he had thick blonde hair that curled under his ears and seemed to fall in layers on the top of his head, and very clear sea-green eyes. There was a rugged handsomeness about him, and whilst you pasted a polite smile on your face, you shook his hand.

And almost as soon as you made the move to do so, his face seemed to crumple as his brows furrowed and his lips parted – all attempts at possibly flirting flying right out of his head.

“Do I know you?”

“Have we met before?”

You spoke at the same time, both now wearing equal expressions of confusion, and unable to help laughing a little awkwardly, minds racing.

You introduced yourself, wondering if your name might ring a bell, but he shook his head, the creases on his forehead deepening. 

“Nothing.” He said, “I do know you, though.”

It was a blunt thing to say to a stranger, and if it weren’t for the way your brain seemed to also be spinning you’d have probably run the opposite way, but you felt glued to the spot. It was like your brain wouldn’t let you move until you figured out just what significance Jamie had in your life.

“Where did you grow up?” He asked, tapping his fingers against the bartop, his eyes momentarily leaving you to flicker to the front of the line.

No one had budged: there was only one bartender, and apparently everyone ahead of you in the queue had also been designated to buy the next round and was ordering drinks for their groups, because each person was taking a while to be served. 

“Minnesota.” You answered, “You?”

This was fucking weird.

“Fort Mac. College?”

“Penn State.”

“UBC.” He sighed, scratching the scruff on his chin and letting out a sound that was somewhere between a frustrated huff and a psychotic cackle.

It made you smile a little.

“Where do you live now, if you don’t mind me asking?” You asked, raising a brow.

He could be a friend’s ex? Or an old work colleague? A family friend? A neighbour?

Jamie swung his gaze back to you, and there was a flicker of something that seemed to click in your mind. A fragment of a memory – it was a split second of a frame of something, but the face in it was younger: his cheeks were a little fuller and he didn’t have any facial hair.

But before you could grasp onto it, the flicker of recognition seemed to dissipate completely, leaving you just as clueless as before.

“Fuck.” You groaned, “I thought I had it, then.”

Jamie laughed, it was a deep, gravelly sound that seemed to resonate in your bones, and from where you’d put your hand against your head in frustration, you turned to him.

He was actually quite pretty for a man. It was a realisation, sure, but with that also came the knowledge that when you thought that thought, you felt…nothing. There was nothing. 

Oh no.

You swallowed, risking a glance back at your table to see Tyson chatting to Toni about something, and almost instantly the symptoms seemed to kick in: your hands got clammy and your pulse picked up. Your eyes caught Mat over all the customers, and he flashed a concerned thumbs up, clearly hinting at Jamie, and you offered a smile, repeating his action, before turning back to the man at hand.

You must really like Tyson.

Like a lot.

You cleared your throat, trying to distract yourself from the way your thoughts seemed to take a spiral down and remove you from your present being, but before you could even conjure up something to say, Jamie had gasped – as far as a man of his stature could do such a thing.

“I know.” He stuttered, pointing a finger at you with a wild look in his eyes, “I live in Vancouver right now, but you live in Buffalo, right?” He asked, talking quickly as though he was afraid he’d lose his train of thought mid sentence.

All you could do was nod.

“We met before at a hockey game in Vancouver, it was against Buffalo, and you were in the drinks line with a friend and you guys overheard me tell my buddy about something–”

Tyson felt off – only he knew the sole reason for the off-feeling and also knew what the off-feeling was: it didn’t take much guessing or analysing on his behalf. All he had to do was sneak a glance at you out of the corner of his eye (Toni was still talking to him, but every so often he felt like his eyes were just pulled in your general vicinity), and the reason for the prickle of his jealousy was staring right back at him.

There was a guy talking to you. Tyson wouldn’t have minded at all if it didn’t look like you two knew each other, or the fact that as the line grew shorter your conversation seemed to get more animated. You’d been laughing, the guy had been laughing, and Tyson wasn’t unaware of the fact that he was attractive.

No, that was a fact he was painfully aware of.

And he knew the whole jealous thing wasn’t necessarily a possessive spirit, because instead of feeling the need to walk over and interrupt, all he felt was a vague swell of panic that had been slowly building under his sternum and had spread out across his ribs. He felt his heart rate pick up and his mind disconnect itself from Toni’s conversation (she wa a little tipsier than everyone else, and Mat was involved in the conversation too, so he assumed Toni wouldn’t be able to pick up on his lack of presence), and he had to swallow the rising lump in his throat.

He’d never been affected by you like that before, and a part of him knew it was because whenever you two would see each other outside of hockey fixtures, it’d just be the two of you, which meant he was blissfully unaware of other people’s intentions with you. In fact, when he thought about it, he didn’t think he could ever remember feeling threatened by someone else that could hurt his chances with you – although at the time he hadn’t had any kind of hope that you’d reciprocated his buried feelings, so things were a little different.

Even so, he still wasn’t sure about how you felt, and he was far too much of a chicken to outright ask you.

Something drove against his shin under the table, pulling him out of his thoughts. He turned straight to Mat, who was shooting him a pointed glare and subtly nodding his head in Toni’s direction and Tyson had the horrid feeling as though he’d just been caught ignoring her.

He cleared his throat, turning to Toni with an apologetic smile, “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Toni took a sip of her drink, trying to hide the knowing smile on her face. Tyson might have unintentionally not heard what she’d said, but one glance at his eyeline gave her all the answers she could ever need, and for that, she rather found Tyson getting distracted amusing (even if she repeatedly said his name to get his attention – Tyson could do little wrong in her eyes, ever).

“I was asking if you had any ideas on what we could do tomorrow?” Toni repeated gently.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. Tyson was thinking, but his mind was blank. All he could picture was the word and Toni’s face as she waited patiently for an answer.

He cleared his throat, “I don’t know, what’re you guys thinking?”

“We were thinking we all do our own thing and then have a movie night?” Mat proposed, shrugging as he kept one arm over the back of your empty chair. And like there was some magnetic pull towards you, Tyson flickered his attention over to you.

He wished he hadn’t. 

The guy was scribbling something down on a piece of paper, and you took it from him with a smile.

Tyson ducked his head, staring into the bottom of his empty beer glass, a little despondent, “Yeah, that sounds fine by me.” He mumbled, completely missing the shared look between Mat and Toni.

“You okay, Tys?” Mat asked, and though he was somewhat amused by his friend’s lovesick symptoms, he was equally as concerned for his quietness. Tyson wasn’t usually so silent; most of the time he was always engaged in some kind of enthusiastic conversation – and it was pretty rare that he wasn’t smiling.

He just nodded, changing the subject, “Why don’t you guys use those spa vouchers we got you for tomorrow?”

“Oh,” Toni hummed, looking at Mat, “That sounds like a nice idea.”

“Yeah, we can do that.” Mat agreed.

“Sorry it took so long, the queue was pretty slow.” You retook your seat, the previous conversation coming to an abrupt end – causing you to raise a curious brow.

Your eyes swept right over Mat and Toni, both of whom eagerly took their drinks off the tray muttering their thank you’s, and came to rest on Tyson. He took his drink all the same, but there was a weight and heaviness on his face – it looked like concentration with the way his mouth had twisted to one side, but he hadn’t even acknowledged your presence.

“Is everything okay?” You directed the question to the group, but your eyes slipped unintentionally to Tyson, who shrugged.

“Yeah, we were just talking about tomorrow. Mat and I are gonna use those spa vouchers you got us.” Toni explained, and you nodded.

“Sounds like a plan.” 

And with that, the conversation started flowing again – but your attention was still somewhat tied to Tyson, who still hadn’t said anything.

You tried to get his attention by sneaking unsubtle glances at him in the hopes he’d look back, but it worked to no avail. 

“I need the bathroom.” He excused himself quickly, not making eye contact with anyone at the table before he’d turned on his heel to make his way to the bathroom. There was a patterned divider screen paving the short corridor before his figure completely disappeared from view as the door shut behind him.

When you turned back to Toni and Mat, the question of whether he was alright or not died on your tongue at the way they were both looking at you.

“What?” You questioned, your hand immediately going to rest against the cool glass of your drink. 

They were both looking at you with identical expressions of something on their faces, but you couldn’t quite place the meaning of it.

It was Mat who took the liberty of answering your question, “He saw you talking to that guy at the bar.”

Oh.

“So?”

Toni laughed softly, “So he got jealous.”

You felt yourself pull a face at her words, almost scoffing in disbelief, but no words came to mind. 

“You two did look pretty cosy.” Toni continued, arching a brow in your direction as she elegantly took a sip of wine, peering at you over the top of her glass.

“We weren’t flirting.” You excused, shaking your head as your eyes went back to the divider near the bathroom.

“Josty didn’t know that.” Mat said, “But he did see you guys laughing–”

“And he saw the piece of paper he gave you.”

“There was a piece of paper?” Mat’s eyes widened, before he winced, “Ouch.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes, “His name is Jamie and we met a few months ago at a Buffalo-Vancouver game and he gave me his number, yeah, but it was because he mentioned his company had a position in his Buffalo office–”

“He offered you a job?” Mat tilted his head in your direction, shock clearly written across his features.

You shook your head, “He told me about a job; it pays better than my current one and it doesn’t involve a fifty-minute commute. I think I’d be pretty crazy not to consider it.”

They were both silent.

“So he really wasn’t flirting?” Mat double-checked, and you sighed, a little frustrated.

“He tried to, but I told him I wasn’t interested.”

“Why?” Toni shot back, interest in her eyes.

You huffed, and maybe if you weren’t already a little tipsy, you’d have said something about not knowing why, but the alcohol currently in your system as well as the sips you’d taken from your new round made you a little less self-conscious of being honest…at least to a certain extent, “Because he’s not my type.” You shrugged.

“And your type is what, exactly?”

And then you went silent. The hand clasped around your glass seemed to react before you could register what you were doing, but you raised the glass and took a mouthful.

Mat, however, seemed to have the opposite reaction. He slumped comfortably in his chair, a lazy smirk on his lips, “Your type is Tyson.” 

And if you were being honest, the thing that stung you most wasn’t necessarily the truth: that perhaps the pinnacle of ‘your type’ was Tyson after all, but the fact that other people had caught on. You weren’t entirely aware your recent not-so-subtle crush on Tyson had been obvious – mostly considering it was a realisation that you’d come to within the last few days.

“Come on, you guys have liked each other for months–”

What. The. Fuck.

“What the fuck.” You breathed, unable to help the comment slip out of your mouth in shock, “No.”

Mat frowned, his brows knitting together as he shook his head in your direction, an adamant expression on his face as he seeked out Toni for reassurance, “Yes.”

You inhaled sharply, hand now pressed against the table, “No, I didn’t figure that out until literally two days ago. I’m only now realising that I’ve been crushing on him this entire time. Some fucking denial…”

Once more, a shroud of silence seemed to envelope the entire table. Mat remained frozen, crazy eyes fixated on you (not that you blamed him, you weren’t entirely sure you weren’t making this entire conversation up in your own head at this point), and Toni’s mouth had dropped in shock.

Then, something seemed to crawl across your skin. It was a prickle of foreboding, something that could have been easily mistaken for anxiety had you not had the displeasure of experiencing said emotion firsthad, but this kind was unfamiliar.

Again, like your body was trying to tell you something, your eyes circled back to the divide near the bathroom.

Something sour immediately seemed to collect in your stomach, and you swallowed harshly, tearing your eyes away from the scene with a curl of displeasure fogging your brain, “Looks like you were wrong on his behalf, though.”

In his defence, Tyson was ambushed. He was wholly and honestly ambushed right from the second he stepped out of the bathroom door. He hadn’t seen it coming; though who could? She’d been blocking his path back to the table completely and he couldn’t even say he’d ever seen her before, and the second she introduced herself with that sultry smile he knew what was about to happen. It was something that had happened numerous times before, and not something he could say was exactly convenient in that exact moment – especially if you were to look straight over, because from your seat he knew you had a pretty solid view of the doors, kind of like how he’d had a pretty solid view of the bar not even ten minutes ago.

Perhaps it was karma. Maybe it was a coincidence. Or maybe it was an opportunity to get back at you, to see just how you’d act when he sat back down at the table. If you were completely normal, he’d know for certain you weren’t even the slightest bit interested, but if you weren’t? Well, he’d definitely take note and then have to ask Mat how to proceed because he wasn’t that good at stuff like that.

Though, he tended to be good at it when you were involved, but that was riding on a major ‘if’.

It was why he (rather cruelly) entertained himself in the conversation with the lady clearly waiting for him. She was bold, he’d give her that, but she wasn’t you – could never be you.

“Are you liking Martha’s so far?” She asked, tilting her head seductively in his direction, and Tyson physically restrained himself from sneaking a glance in your direction.

“Yeah, it’s pretty incredible. Good views, and all. What about you, you having fun?” He couldn’t ever say he was good at talking to people he didn’t know, because if he did he was sure he’d be branded some kind of world-class liar, but he attempted it, at least for appearance’s sake.

“I mean,” She laughed, placing an unwanted hand on his bicep that he’d luckily kept covered with a blazer, “I could be having more fun, if you get my drift.” She raised an eyebrow, and to be polite, Tyson shuffled out of her grip subtly, and although she dropped her hand, the smirk on her face remained pretty steady.

He laughed a little awkwardly, something between a grimace and a smile on his face, “I do, but I’m taken.” He lied easily, this time momentarily making direct eye contact with you for a brief second. He couldn’t decide if his heart simply stuttered or actually stopped beating, but he swore when you looked away he’d never felt so aware of what he was doing.

He was being a dick just to get a reaction out of you.

“Oh.” The girl’s expression dropped and she took a respectful step back, “I apologise.”

“No need, I...” Tyson shrugged, trailing off pathetically.

Then she turned around, clearly able to focus on exactly who had stolen his attention for that brief moment, and when she looked back at Tyson there was a gleam of understanding on her face, “She’s beautiful.”

“I know.” There wasn’t even a debate about it, the words had just flown so freely out of his mouth that he couldn’t ever really imagine saying anything with such confidence in his entire life.

The girl flashed a soft smile, the kind that had Tyson wondering if she ever really had the true intention of really flirting with him, and simply wandered into the ladies bathroom next to him.

He remained rooted to the spot, his mind reeling. Really, he was flattered, but other women flirting with him had never felt so uncomfortable. He felt the awkward desire to apologise to you for some reason; it wasn’t as though there was anything tying him to you on any kind of level. There’d only been a  few moments but not enough for him to hate it when it wasn’t you flirting with him. Surely?

He cleared his throat, hand over his chest as he looked up. Straight in your direction. The food had arrived, the plate in his empty place steaming, but it was the look on your face that had him moving. You’d bitten the inside of your cheek and there was a thoughtful, vacant look in your eyes – something was up.

Only, when he’d returned to his seat, you ignored his questioning glance and instead offered a tight, clearly irritated smile.

And something dropped in his stomach: it felt an awful lot like guilt.

***

Somewhere along the lines it was decided a walk back to the house would be a good way to end the night. Mat and Toni were walking ahead of you and Tyson, hands intertwined and hushed conversation flowing easily. It couldn't have been more opposite than yours and Tyson’s current situation.

There was at least an arm’s length between you both, and neither of you had spoken a single word since the restaurant. 

It was awkward.

He had still given you his jacket, though – but even that went without words other than your concerned glance to his bare arms (he shrugged), and a muttered thank you.

You wanted to ask if he was okay, there was just something nagging you in the back of your mind, but you pushed it down. It wasn’t even fair of you to be a little pissed at him, but you were. In fact, you were more pissed at yourself. Perhaps if it hadn’t looked as though you were flirting with Jamie, Tyson wouldn’t have flirted with the gorgeous girl outside the bathroom.

Then again, you had learnt a lesson from tonight, so you’d chosen to take that presumption with a pinch of salt, because if you didn’t, you’d be a whole hypocrite.

You just needed a breather, and the only way you could process everything in your head and everything your body was telling you about the man next to you, was to process it in silence. In your own head and on your own terms. 

Hopefully the processing wouldn’t last too long, though.

“Excuse me.” You stopped, twirling around at the sound of a soft, delicate voice. Your arms immediately uncrossed from against your chest, coming to rest at your sides as you flashed a polite smile at the elderly couple that had stopped you.

Your eyes automatically flickered down to their chained arms, and that slow sense of panic from yesterday began to tease at your insides again.

“Is everything alright?” You asked.

The sound of footsteps getting closer registered somewhere in the back of your mind, and your skin seemed to erupt in goosebumps when a subconscious part of your mind registered it was Tyson that had pressed himself closer to you. Again, he wasn’t touching you, but you could still feel his presence and warmth.

You’d never really been this in-tune with him before.

The man smiled back up at you, and you ignored the way his wife’s curious eyes slipped to Tyson behind you, “It is, but we’re just a little bit lost, and we were wondering if you could point us in the right direction?”

You nodded instantly, automatically turning to Tyson, who’d already read your mind and was pulling up maps on his phone, “Where do you need to be?”

The man – Eric – answered, and you nodded in understanding, curling your head to look down at Tyson’s phone. You felt your heart start to race at the closeness: he was still standing a little behind you, but he’d placed his phone in a position you could also see his screen, so all you had to do was turn your head a little to the right, his curls ticking the top of your head. 

Neither one of you made a move to inch away.

“I’m really sorry if I’m overstepping here, but you two make a lovely couple.” The lady – Freda – said a little sheepishly.

The breath in your chest seemed to still, and you felt your mouth form a shape, but no sound came out. Luckily, Tyson seemed to take the lead, his media training and prep for keeping a straight face and calm demeanour (all of which you were failing ridiculously in) being used to–

“Thank you.” 

You inhaled sharply, head snapping back to him in surprise. Of all things you’d expected him to say, a simple thank you was most definitely not on the cards – at all. In fact, you’d fully prepared for him to shoot it down with a smile, but here he was, accepting it with a smile.

And you misjudged exactly where he was, because in all the heart-stopping seconds you’d just experienced, it hadn’t even occurred to you that he’d also turned to face the couple. So when you turned back to him, chest aching with something that had recently come into fruition, you turned into him.

The proximity of your faces was so close that even with a small breath you could feel it fan across your cheeks. His nudged your cheek, and almost as though it was rehearsed, both of your gazes instantly went to the other’s mouth.

Before flicking back up to the eyes, and when you did, something seemed to crack. Or click. You couldn’t quite determine which, but there was a heavy vulnerability written there clear as day: he was just as taken aback by the sudden closeness as you were, though he seemed to have mastered the ability to hide the rest of his emotions pretty well.

As for you, you were sure he could see just about everything on your face.

Before the moment could be ruined, you took one daring look back at his lips, suddenly struck with the strength of the magnetism between you both. You felt compelled to kiss him then. The thought had the corner of your mouth twitching up fractionally and your breath hitching in your chest, because that idea wasn’t at all as petrifying as you thought it would be.

You wanted to kiss Tyson in a way that if you did, it’d just screw you both up.

He must have been on a similar wavelength, however, because his cheeks seemed to colour and his tongue darted out to wet his lips, almost testing you, a hungry glint in his eyes.

And then it was over as quickly as it had happened.

The couple got their directions and you and Tyson all but speed-walked home in the exact same situation as before the interruption: maintaining a safe distance and in an awkward silence, though this time for a slightly different reason.

“I’m going to bed.” You announced immediately after walking through the front door, needing to sit in silence in the dark for a while longer.

Tyson.

Your brain just seemed to scream his name, and although you knew exactly what it meant, it didn’t mean you weren’t a little intimidated by the prospect of it. Only, when he came upstairs twenty-minutes later, you were laid on your side facing the window, and he didn’t bother to be quiet, probably assuming you weren’t asleep anyway, and threw a piece of screwed up paper onto your bedside table with an audible, resigned sigh.

You felt him hesitate, and you cracked your eyes open a little to see him with his hands over his face before they fell down to his sides in resignation. There was a hardness to his jaw and he looked…devastated.

It wasn’t until he’d gone into the bathroom that you unfurled the piece of paper, nerves haywire at what exactly could have caused such a dramatic change in demeanour.

Fuck.

Jamie’s number.

You placed the paper back where he put it, anxiety crushing through your system when there was a muted sigh from inside the bathroom, followed by a muffled bang.

[crazyunsexycool]

My little love

Chapter 11

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x enhanced!reader

Word count: 5.9k

Warnings: threats toward reader and lottie, use of gun, canon level violence, death of a minor character, baby written smut, unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving), implied oral (f receiving), lil itty bitty bit of a breeding kink if you squint, lil bit of dom!reader at the beginning of the sexy times… I think that’s it.

A/N: it’s finally happening you guys!!! Let the badly written sexy times begin! Also don’t poke mama bear or you’ll die!

Series masterlist

Ch 10

It was just a recon mission.

It should be easy, those were Bucky’s words. But you hadn’t been out on a mission together since Charlotte was saved. You were dreading leaving her behind although you knew Steve and the others would take amazing care of her. She was your baby, your sweet Angel and you wanted to be the one to keep her safe. But you knew how important this mission was so you settled for watching her sleep for a few minutes before getting ready to go. She looked so peaceful and content in her new toddler bed. You and Bucky had decided to change the crib into the toddler bed version since she figured out how to get out of it. After fixing the blanket covering her, you give Lottie a kiss on the cheek and slowly and quietly start walking out. You jump when you turn and find Bucky leaning against the doorframe.

“How long have you been standing there?” You whisper yell in his direction.

“Just a minute or two. I guess we both had the same idea.” He answers once you’ve walked out of Lottie’s room. The door was left ajar and he looked back to see his baby still sound asleep.

Bucky follows you into the third room in your apartment. You had turned it into a sort of closet. It stored your uniform, weapons and some pre-packed medical gear in case you needed to leave quickly and couldn’t head to the medbay first. The door was kept locked with a code so Lottie couldn’t get in, especially now since Bucky kept his weapons in there too. Both of you quietly go over your bags to make sure you have everything you need. Tony had provided you with a small box of metal discs that you could manipulate and turn into whatever weapon you wanted. Hands find your hips and lips connect with your shoulder.

“Do you have everything you need?” Bucky asks as he peers over your shoulder.

“Almost. Weapons, medical supplies and clothes but Fury said there was a small change in the mission so I have to go get whatever equipment they want to give me. How about you?”

“I’m packed.”

You turn in his arms and close your eyes as Bucky’s lips meet yours. The door to Lottie’s room creaks open and you pull apart. Bucky winks at you and steps outside to meet his daughter while you finish up.

A few minutes later you walk into the kitchen. Music from the 40s filled the room while Bucky moved through the space making breakfast. Lottie sat in her booster chair at the table and bopping along to the music. Her hair was still sticking out in random places.

“Good morning my sweet Angel.” You coo sweetly. She looks up at you and gives you a sleepy smile.

When you smooth out her hair she leans into your touch and then she returns the kiss you place on her cheek. The three of you share breakfast together and before you know it you have to go change to head into the last briefing and then on to the jet.

“Hey guys.” Steve says as he walks in.

“Steeb.” Lottie says happily.

“Good morning sweetheart. I missed you so much.”

Lottie walks to him and lets Steve pick her up. Her head immediately rested on his shoulder. She pats his cheek gently and yawns. It’s a miracle she’s even awake considering it’s so early in the morning. You wouldn’t be surprised if she fell right back asleep, especially while Steve held her.

“We’ll meet you at the hanger.” He says when both you and Bucky head to the door.

“We’ve had a minor change of plans but we think it will be better in the long run.” Fury announced as soon as you walked in. He looked down and back up. “What no more little Barnes to disrupt the meeting?”

“I can go get her if you want Fury. All you had to do was ask to see her.”

“No, no we have very important things to do.”

You bite back a smile as you take a seat.

“We have found and intercepted an invitation to someone from the Romano family.”

“Aren’t they the crime family based out of Jersey?”

“Yes, and it just so happens that you have a very striking resemblance to Grace Romano.” Tony adds as he pulls up a picture of the woman.

“I’m going to have to talk to my dad after this is over.” You joke as you look over the photograph. They were right, the only difference was really the eye color and the height.

Tony places an invitation and a contact lense case on the table.

“We want you to infiltrate the auction as Grace Romano. It will give us a better idea as to who will be there and who will win the bid.”

“Absolutely not. Over my dead body.”

“Why don’t we just make the highest bid?”

Both you and Bucky spoke at the same time. He glared at you and you stared right back.

“Those people are the worst. I can’t let you go in there if I can’t be right by your side.” He argues.

“The contacts are also cameras so you can see what she does. You’ll be set up in a van just outside. It will be placed at the entrance closest to the room the auction will be held at.” Tony says, trying to ease the tension.

You look at Bucky who shakes his head no and you give him an apologetic smile. “I have to. We need to help whoever hydra is using.” You take the invitation and the contacts.

“Good. The auction itself starts at 10:00 pm but it would be good if you were there earlier to mingle with the other guests. We’ve already sent a copy of Romano’s file to your tablet and clothing is already in the jet.” Fury informs you.

“Well I have some studying and you have some flying to do.”

Bucky mutters something under his breath. It had been a long time since he had been grumpy with you but you just smiled and headed toward the jet. He followed behind and complained the whole time. It wasn’t until he saw Lottie that he calmed down a bit.

“Hi, dada.” She said and waved happily. “Hi, mama.”

“Hi my sweet Angel.” You stopped in front of Steve who was holding her. “Can I have kisses?”

Lottie pushes away from Steve and clings to your neck as she gives you quick pecks on your cheek. Bucky is quick to reach out for her and she happily gets passed between her three favorite adults. He starts talking with her and steps away from both you and Steve.

“I heard about the change in the mission.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty pissed. Doesn’t want me to go in there by myself.” You say as you look over your shoulder where Bucky is smiling at Lottie.

“Everything will be fine. Just make sure that if you run into trouble you call him in. Don’t think you can handle everything by yourself.”

“Yes sir.” You salute.

“Be careful you little shit.” He chuckles as he brings you in for a hug.

“Take care of my girl. And if something comes up my dad’s number is on my fridge and he can come up to watch her.”

“You got it.”

You give Lottie one more goodbye hug and kiss and head into the jet. After a few more minutes Bucky walks in. He sits in the pilot’s seat and starts the plane. Once it’s safe to do so Bucky puts the jet in auto pilot and turns his seat around. You had been studying the person you were supposed to imitate.

“Why did you agree to go in there?” He asks, clearly still upset with your decision.

“Because it’s our job, what was I supposed to do, say no?”

“Yes. It’s dangerous, you could get hurt.”

You look up at him and you can see the worry in his eyes. Putting the tablet down you make your way to him and stand between his legs.

“Baby, I know you’re worried I could get hurt but you have to trust that I’ll make the right calls when I’m in there. We have to help this person that hydra is obviously using to replace you. I’m not worried because I know you have my back.” You told him while your arms rested on his shoulders.

“I know. But you can’t blame me for worrying. It is hydra after all. And the thought of anything happening to you.”

“Don’t do that to yourself. Now, do you want to see the dress I was given to wear to this thing?”

You go to the garment bag that was left with the rest of your things. There was a strapless champagne colored dress in the bag. The top looked like a corset and the tulle skirt ended above your ankle.

“How the hell am I supposed to fight in this or carry a gun?”

“I’m not sure but at least you’ll have your bracelets right?”

You smiled as you thought of how you could sneak in as much metal as possible.

“I have a better idea.”

The auction had been changed. Fury, Tony and Steve assured you that it was normal for something like this to happen in order to keep law enforcement agencies off their trail. So instead of having a day to prepare, you had a few hours. It didn’t help that Bucky went back to his grumpy muttering that he didn’t want you in there alone.

You kissed him deeply before saying your goodbye and walking into the suite that had been booked for you. Appearances were important is what Tony said. You shook your head in disbelief at the over the top hotel room. Especially since you wouldn’t get to really use it. There were only two hours left until you had to leave for the auction and you spent that time getting ready.

********

The hotel lobby was bustling with guests and staff, both from the hotel and the ones running the auction. You rolled your shoulders back and held your head up high, your expression almost bored. Your movement through the room was elegant and eye-catching, just like your dress. It moved with ease even though you had added metal all throughout, making it look like it was sequin. Bucky was in your ear, pointing out who you needed to stay away from and who was hydra.

You move toward a closed off hallway guarded by two burly men in matching black outfits.

“They’re hydra if you see them anywhere other than guarding a door you get out of there.” Bucky’s voice comes through your ear piece.

They both looked down at you and the one on the left stuck his hand out. You pulled the invitation out of the clutch you brought with you and he all but ripped it from your hand. The other waves you in and you take your time looking at the art work that had been hung up throughout the hallway.

“These are all replicas. They let you take a good look at them so you know what you’re bidding on. The real artwork is kept under lock and key.” Bucky informs you.

One item though wasn’t a painting, it was a tv with a video feed. The room it was showing looked empty except for a chain on the floor and for a moment you thought it moved. You risked it and spoke up.

“Are you seeing this?”

“It must be the asset. I doubt hydra has them in the building though.”

“Miss,” a man walked up behind you. “This way please.” He ushers you into a large room set up with a bar and tables as well as a stage toward the back. There was a microphone and a podium.

The room was already full, with people of influence preparing themselves to outbid each other.

“What a lovely surprise to see you here tonight.”

You recognized the accent immediately and turned to look at who had just snuck up on you.

“King T’Challa, I could say I’m the one surprised to see you here.”

“Please, there is no need for you to call me king. How have you been Y-“

“Grace Romano.” You whisper and he nods in understanding.

“Grace, it’s been a while since you visited Wakanda. How is our friend doing?”

“He’s doing well. A bit grumpy but what else can you expect from an old man?” You say as you discreetly signal that you have bucky in your ear.

“You know I can hear you right.”

“Well that is good to hear. Now what are you here for?” T’Challa asks as you both move further into the room with Okoye following you both.

“An asset, hydra is looking to rent them out for missions or jobs. I’m trying to get information on who the biggest bidder is and go from there. You?”

“There are some priceless Wakanda artifacts that were stolen. Made of pure vibranium, I’m here to get them back. But if you need my help, I will gladly assist and Wakanda is always open to help them heal.”

“Thank you.” You smile before you leave his side.

“Well now I feel better knowing T’Challa is there.”

“You and I are going to have a conversation about you doubting my fighting skills. Need I remind you that I’ve been training with you and Nat for the last two years?” Bucky stays silent on the line. “Thought so.”

“If everyone will take their seats the auction is about to start.” A blonde woman announced.

It felt like hundreds of items had been shown and yet the one thing you were here for wasn’t being put on display. There’s a light tap on your shoulder and you turn to see one of the guards from earlier behind you.

“Ms. Romano, the other auction is going to start. Please follow me.” He doesn’t wait for your response, instead he straightens up and starts walking toward a different door then where you came in.

You get up and follow him after looking over at T’Challa and Okoye, both of them had their eyes on you. The former gives you a quick nod in reassurance. The guard leads you to one of the empty banquet halls. Your gut is telling you that something is wrong, your earpiece has been too quiet. Bucky surely would have thrown a fit if he had seen you walking away toward a secluded section of the hotel with a hydra agent.

“Good evening Ms. Romano.” A tall, blond and sickly looking man steps out from within the shadows. “Or should I say agent Y/L/N.”

“Who? I don’t know anyone named Y/L/N. I’d like to go back to the auction .”

You turn to leave but are stopped by the guard that brought you down. He grips your upper arm, fingers digging into your flesh and turning you around.

“We have the item you so desperately want right here.” He says and out from the shadows walks out Bucky, completely restrained and with guns pointed at both him and now you.

You don’t react, instead acting unfazed by the fact that Bucky had been brought out like that. As you try to keep up appearances you look Bucky up and down, you see a few cuts and bruises, before looking at the blond man.

“Who is this supposed to be?”

“Tsk-tsk-tsk. I don’t like being lied to. You know very well who this is.” He pulls out a phone and shows you a picture of you and Bucky running a course on compound grounds. A picture of the date night you had planned, when you were laying in the back of the pick up truck. “How sweet that the winter soldier thought he could have a normal life, with a girlfriend and a daughter.”

Your stomach drops when he shows you multiple pictures of Charlotte running around happily. His smile is vile and what’s worse is that glimmer in his eyes as if he enjoyed it.

“You will do as I say or I will kill her slowly, in front of you.” He spoke in your direction while shaking his phone at you.

He turns back to Bucky and your eyes meet his. He’s livid, you could see it in his eyes. You both freeze when you hear your captor speaking Russian, specifically the words used to trigger and control the Winter Soldier.

“солдат?” (Soldier)

“я готов отвечать.” (Ready to comply) Bucky’s voice was monotone, his face neutral and his eyes looked empty.

“Kill her and then bring me back the child.”

The men that guns pointed at you lowered them and let Bucky go free. That was their third mistake, the first was asking Bucky to bring Charlotte to him and the second was for them to have Bucky kill you.

Bucky’s whole demeanor has changed but you don’t worry, you know those words can’t hurt him anymore. You look up at him once he’s standing in front of you. He brings his hand up around your throat and his thumb finds your pulse. It’s steady and even, you’re calm because you trust him and his eyes soften just a little. Bucky moves his hand from your throat and cups your cheek and all hell breaks loose.

He lunges at the guard behind you while you manipulate the pieces of metal on your dress. In Steve fashion you create a shield and stand in front of Bucky to protect both of you from the rain of bullets. With more of the metal on your dress you create small throwing knives which Bucky grabs and begins to use. You work in sync with Bucky, both of you fueled by anger at the thought of any harm coming to Charlotte. As you work your way through the room the man that had used the words against Bucky ran away but it didn’t stop either of you.

Once you’re done with the hydra agents you run out trying to find where the other man went.

“Are you looking for a sickly looking man?” You turn to see Okoye.

“Yes.”

“T’Challa is already chasing him, here.”

She hands Bucky a bracelet made of beads before she races off. You follow, there’s no way you can let that man live. Bucky grabs your hand and you both run to a motorcycle that’s parked nearby. You don’t have time to worry that you're in your dress, you hop on the back and hold on to Bucky who is using the beads to help him navigate.

Bucky weaves through traffic both to avoid innocent bystanders and the bullets of the hydra agents behind you. You throw spikes back which catch some of their tires, forcing them to drop out of the chase.

“I have eyes on your target Sergeant Barnes.” T’Challa’s voice comes over your now connected comms.

“Stop him, we can’t let him get away.”

“On it.”

When you finally reach T’Challa they already have the man you wanted restrained. The area was away from the busy part of the city which was good. No one needed to see what was about to happen. He sat on the ground with his arms behind his back. A little blood trickled and dried by his brow but otherwise he was uninjured.

“Sergeant, Agent.” T’Challa greeted you once you were close enough. His black panther suit was on except for his mask. “I believe this is who you were looking for.”

“Thank you, T’Challa.” You smiled at him.

“No need to thank me.”

“Where is the asset?” Bucky asked the man as he held a gun to his head.

He chuckles. “You’ve become such a disappointment, soldat.”

“And I’ll sleep just fine knowing I’ve disappointed you. Where is the asset?”

“He’s home of course, the same place you belong.”

Bucky looks over at you instinctively because if he belongs anywhere it’s next to you.

“How sweet, the soldat has a whore.”

“Watch your mouth.” Bucky pulls back and hits him with the butt of the gun.

The man chuckles. “The asset is a chip off the old block. He’d do anything for the people cares for too.”

Your eyes closed and the one thing you feared was true. This asset was Bucky’s child. It would be a race against time to find him and save him before hydra can either move or get rid of him for good. You see Bucky’s hand tremble slightly, he’s conflicted. He wants to pull the trigger but he also doesn’t want T’Challa to think he hasn’t changed. You step up, holding the gun you had strapped in your thigh holster to his head and pull the trigger. His body slumps to the side.

“What have you done? He could have given us more information.” Okoye lashes out at you.

“He threatened my daughter. No one gets to do that and live.”

“We had him, he wouldn’t have been able to follow through with that threat.”

“You don’t know that.” You grit out.

“Okoye, let’s go. We have done our part.” T’Challa says, he nods at Bucky and walks away.

Bucky pulls his phone out and makes a call but you’re not focused on what he’s saying. There’s a few things running through your mind. The first being Charlotte’s safety, the second was the worry for the asset hydra had, another Barnes child. You questioned how old they were and if they were now in danger.

Bucky put his hand on your lower back and guided you toward the motorcycle. Both of you silently got on just as a team of agents showed up to take care of the scene.

“We’ll have to go to a safe house for the night.” Bucky muttered over his shoulder.

“What? No, I want to go home, we have to make sure Lottie is safe.”

“She is sugar, Steve and Nat are with her.”

It wasn’t good enough but you wrapped your arms around him and let him drive you away anyways.

The safe house was a small cabin in the middle of nowhere. It had double protection thanks to Tony adding Stark security. During the drive up, Bucky had stopped to drop off the motorcycle and exchange it for a car that had your overnight bags. Neither of you said much on the ride over but Bucky didn’t let go of your hand until he parked the car.

You walk in first and inspect the cabin. Two bedrooms, one bathroom and a kitchen/living room area. Everything you would need to survive for a few weeks was available. The door closes and the sound of the lock gets your attention. The small cuts and bruises Bucky had sported earlier are already gone.

“Could you unzip me please?” You say as you turn around.

“Sure.”

You didn’t need his help, the zipper was metal, what you needed was to be close to him. You feel the warmth of his right hand hold on to the top of the dress while his left tugs the zipper down. The only sound in the room is the metal teeth coming undone, releasing you from the dress. Instead of letting you go, Bucky wraps his arms around you and places a kiss on your bare shoulder, then another until he moves from your neck to your cheek. You turn still in his arms and kiss him. Bucky’s hands move from your waist and as they roam the dress you’d been wearing slides down your body, the weight of the metal on it helping gravity. You stand in front of him in nothing but your heels, a pair of lacy panties and a thigh holster with a gun.

“You are so beautiful.” Bucky whispers as his eyes drink you in.

You pull him by his shirt until he’s standing in front of the couch and you give his chest a soft push. After quickly removing the holster from your thigh you sit on Bucky’s lap. Straddling him so that you’re face to face.

“Are you sure you want this?” Bucky asked as his hands traveled up from your thighs to your hips.

“Yes, I want you Bucky. Do you want this?”

He smiles up at you. “Of course I want you.”

One of his hands comes up and pulls you down so that he can kiss you again. You sigh happily against his lips. Hands roam as if you were mapping out each other's bodies for the first time. In one way it was, since making your relationship official this had been the last step you hadn’t taken. And in his movements you can feel the hesitancy.

Bucky wants more but he’s also worried, it’s been years since he’s been with a woman. He doesn't want your first time together to be awful, at least not for you. The super soldier is still getting used to being touched. Sometimes he still fights the urge to flinch when Steve pats him in the back or when Sam moves suddenly. But you’re gentle, you always have been. You’re doing it right now, even when he can see the desire and hunger in your eyes. You push the jacket he was wearing off of his shoulders gently and then reach for the hem of his black t-shirt. His fingers wrapped around your wrist and the uncertainty showed clear in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just,” he pops his left shoulder. “The scars. I don’t want you to feel disgusted by them.“

You kiss him softly and sweetly just like he deserves.

“I understand why you might feel like that but I’ve already seen your scars Bucky, they don’t disgust me.”

Bucky searches your face for any signs of insincerity but can’t find it. You smile when he lets go of your wrist and you tug his shirt off. Your lips trail his shoulder, kissing over the scars until they meet metal. Slowly you wander lower until you have to pull away. You stand and Bucky starts to push himself off the couch thinking you’d be going to the bedroom but you push him back down as you get on your knees. Your hands travel over Bucky’s broad chest and chiseled abs until they get to the button of his pants.

“Sugar,” his breath hitches as you undo the button and pull down the zipper. You palm his erection through his pants and he groans. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone and I sure as hell have never done this.”

You push up on your knees so that you’re in between his spread legs and you connect your lips to his again. His tongue slips into your mouth when you moan. Your tongue meets his in a dirty passionate dance. There’s a push and pull between you, the need to be closer to each other is overwhelming. He pulls back slightly as you both get some much needed air, Bucky rests his forehead against yours.

“I don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“So will you let me make you feel good?” You say as your hands move up and down his thick thighs.

He swallowed and then he nodded.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes.”

You smiled as your hands slid up his thigh and grabbed his pants, pulling them down. Bucky lifted his hips to help. His erection bobbed up against his abs and you licked your lips.

“So beautiful.” You murmured as you wrapped your hand around his impressive length.

Bucky’s breath hitches just by you moving your hand up and down slowly. You couldn’t wait to hear what types of noises he would make when you took him into your mouth.

You leaned forward and licked a long thick stripe from base to tip before swirling your tongue over the head of his cock. Bucky gripped the couch cushions as he watched you wrap your lips around his cock. Inch by inch you slowly move up and down. You started to move faster, hollowing out your cheeks as your hand moved down to cup his balls. Bucky’s hips thrusted forward and you hummed.

“Oh fuck sugar… feels good.” Bucky threw his head back as you changed from sucking his hardened length to swirling your tongue around the tip, picking up the beads of precum and humming in approval.

Just before you can take him in your mouth again Bucky pulls you up and crashes his lips against yours. His hands traveled down your sides and lower back until he was cupping your ass then he put his hands under your thighs and pulled you up so that you were straddling his lap again. Bucky made quick work of ripping your lacy, barely there panties off. He trailed kisses down your jaw and your neck until he reached your chest. With one hand Bucky cupped your beast, his thumb running over your already pebbled peak while he lavished your other breast with his tongue.

Lust blown eyes look up at you through dark lashes. You arch toward him and moan as he takes his time with your breast. Your hand reaches down between your bodies and you begin to line yourself up. Bucky has stopped what he’s doing as he looks down and watches you take all of him.

“Oh fuck.” Bucky groans as your wet heat wraps around him.

You kiss him again, softly pouring all of your love for him into it. His hands move up and down your side before they settle on your hips. A soft squeeze from him has you rolling your hips. As you continue to move you both kiss and moan. Hands roam freely but soon the urge for more takes over. You change your movements from rolling your hips to bouncing in his dick.

“Bucky.” You moan out as he moves a hand between your bodies. His thumb finds your clit and he starts forming quick circles.

“Fuck, you’re so close baby I can feel you. Are you gonna come for me?”

You nod frantically as you feel that fire deep in your belly grow until it consumes you. With a scream of his name you come undone. Bucky plants his feet and his grip on your hips tighten as he begins thrusting faster.

“I’m gonna fill you up. Do you want that sugar?”

“Yes, Bucky. Please…” Your nails dig into his back as he pushes you toward another orgasm.

“Give me one more.” He grunts as he continues his relentless pace. “Come with me, sugar.”

His words push you over the edge again, the second orgasm rips through you more intensity than the first. You fall against Bucky’s chest just as you feel his release fill you up just as he promised. He kisses your temple as you both try to catch your breaths.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Sugar.” Bucky says with a chuckle after a minute.

“Me? My legs are literally jelly right now. I couldn’t get up even if I wanted to.”

“Good thing you don’t have to.”

Bucky stands and you shriek before laughing. He heads towards the main bedroom and sets you down gently.

“It’s my turn to taste you.” He smirks before kissing down your chest.

A day later the jet lands safely on compound grounds and you can’t wait to get out and see your sweet Angel. Both you and Bucky can already hear Lottie giggling as the jet ramp automatically lowers.

“Dada. Mama!” Lottie yells when she sees you. She runs towards you with her arms open and fortunately she isn’t wearing her princess dress.

“There’s my sweet Angel.”

You kneel when she’s close enough and almost fall back once she jumps into your arms. It’s easy to forget she’s stronger than the average toddler when she looks so small and delicate. Still, you kiss her forehead and hold her tight as the memory of the hydra agent you killed the night before comes back. Lottie wiggles out of your arms and heads towards Bucky, who also wraps her up in a hug.

“Welcome back lovebirds.” Steve says as he gets closer. He hugs you first and places a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Unfortunately we have to head back out for another mission and it includes everyone. We’ll brief you on the way.”

“What? We just got here, and who’s going to look after Lottie?”

“That would be me.” Your dad walks out from the hallway that connects the hanger to the compound.

The other avengers walk out behind him and head toward the bigger jet. You however meet your dad halfway and accept his hug.

“Steve called me last night. You don’t have to worry about anything, me and my princess are just gonna hang out. We’ll be just fine.”

“Thanks dad.” You smile at him.

“Boom!” Lottie exclaims as Thor walks out.

“Lady Y/N, it’s great to see you again.” He smiles at you as he gets closer.

“Thor, when did you get back?”

“Yesterday afternoon. And I’m glad to be going into battle with my friends here.”

Bucky walked closer, a small scowl on his face as he saw you and Thor interacting.

“Thor, this is Bucky-“

“Ah yes, Steve’s oldest friend. We shall forge a great friendship on the battlefield if you are as fierce a warrior as I’ve been told.” He smiles at Bucky and then tickles Lottie. “I’ll see you both on the jet.”

“I don’t like him.”

“Bucky you don’t know him.”

“He was flirting with you, and making Lottie laugh.” He glares in the god’s direction.

Ed chuckles from beside both of you. “I’ll take my granddaughter now if you don’t mind.” Lottie happily goes with Ed and then stiffens.

The color drains from her face and you take her from your dad. You begin to pat her back in hopes of getting her to breathe. A few seconds pass before she sucks in a deep breath and then she starts to cry. Both you and Bucky take a moment to calm her.

“Bubba home.” She points at the jet.

You and Bucky look at each other concerned. Neither of you knew someone named Bubba.

“Hey, we have to go.” Sam calls from the door of the jet.

“We’ll be back as soon as possible. If that happens again-“

“I know, go to the medbay. I’ve raised a gifted child already. I can handle this.”

“Thanks dad.” You kiss his cheek and then Lottie’s.

“Keep her safe.”

“Of course I will.” Bucky nods at Ed once and then heads into the jet.

Once it’s in the air, Steve stands while a projection floats in the middle of the jet. He turns to both you and Bucky.

“We’ve found the location of hydra’s newest asset. They’re keeping him in Siberia.”

Bucky tenses when he hears the location. It’s where he was kept most of the time. Where the worst things happened to him. You intertwine your hand with his.

Bucky can only hope that the asset is hasn’t had to endure as much torture as he had.

Ch 12

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The Bear Ch 6

Pairings: Wanda x R

Word count: 5.7K

Summary: You join your uncle tony in the avengers, it wasn't your original plan but you never planned for your powers either so here you are. Now your at the avengers tower and falling for the girl of your dreams. With a haunting past and interesting abilities can you navigate your way through the challenges of being a hero? After a mission gone wrong and a cruel twist of fate the team starts digging for answers. Can tony keep them from finding out the truth?

TW: vomiting, sickness, injury, mentions of nightmares, canon typical violence (I guess? I think that’s it)

A/n Sorry this took so long (again) but this series will continue. I have no idea when it will end tbh I have no real plan lol also it’s a super long chapter almost 6k. I debated splitting it in half to post but was like nah. So here ya go…

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7

it was nearing 9am and despite wanting to stay the whole day here in the treehouse Nat and Wanda would notice soon if they hadn’t already. Grabbing your sketchbook and pencils and stashing the snacks away again you slung it over your shoulder and began climbing down the ladder. At some point it had started raining.

“great” you muttered pulling on the hood of your hoodie in an attempt to keep dry. You didn’t have a coat or anything so it was the best you could do. you shoved your backpack under your shirt and despite it being waterproof you didn’t want to take any chances when it came to your sketchbook. You hurried back, weaving the familiar path through the trees.

As the compound came into sight it was raining rather heavily. your socks were soaked, and your shoes squelched as you walked. it felt awful against your feet, and you couldn’t wait to get them off. once in the foyer you slipped past the desk and towards the lift. deciding to head straight to the kitchen for a better breakfast than chocolate and cereal you threw down your backpack and began rummaging in the cupboards.

A moment later you felt strong arms grip your biceps from behind and before you could react you were spun around and thrown into the wall. your head connected with the plaster with a loud thwack and in your dazed state you realised a hydra agent was in the kitchen with you.

He must have waited for you to leave the treehouse and followed you back. he pinned you to the walls and twisted your wrist at an unnatural angle. leaning in close you could feel his breath on your cheek. struggling in his hold you felt pain shoot down your arm from your wrist when you moved it.

All at once you shifted into a ferret and crawled through the man's legs to escape. At the same time a burst of red magic threw the man into the wall and he groaned and slumped unconscious. Natasha and Wanda ran into the kitchen.

Wanda hurried over to the man and Nat crouch down to where you were curled up whimpering behind a chair. Nat scooped you up in her arms carefully and began jogging to the lift to take you to the med bay. luckily bruce had stayed behind. you squirmed in her arms, and she shushed you whispering reassurances.

Jarvis had alerted tham you were back and in distress. Wanda and nat had been looking for you so they had hurried to the kitchen just in time to see you shift to a ferret and slip between the man's legs.

as she hurried you shift back into a human in her arms, and she stumbles slightly but stays upright carrying you bridal style in her arms. You groan and rest your pounding head against her chest and nat picks up the pace worried about you.

“How you doin there Y/n/n talk to me sweets.” She said sounding worried. You groaned again.

“Dizzy and it hurts.” you said. And Nat nodded. Your eyes were closed but you felt her move from where you were curled into her.

“Just hold on for another second love and then Bruce will take care of you.”

“Wheres Wanda?” you asked still dazed but noticing her absence.

“Shes just letting fury know whats going on and putting the hydra man in a cell. Nothing for you to worry about right now.” She hushed and you nodded weakly hissing at the pain that sparked with the movement.

“Hold on love just stay still for me.” She said as she walked into the med bay and set you down gently.

She turned you on your side. Knowing you hadn’t said you felt sick but not wanting to risk anything if you got nauseous.

She quickly grabbed Bruce who came and gave you a check-up.

She shone the light in your eyes and determined you had aggravated your concussion a bit and would need to rest for a few days. He deemed it ok for that to be done in your room and you mumbled “Great just as it was starting to go away too.” Then you thanked Bruce.

After a second of them both looking at you, waiting for you to get up and join them you suddenly lent forward and gagged. The nausea hitting you all at once.

Nat rushed to your side and lent you over the edge of the bed to avoid you throwing up on yourself. opting for the floor as a better option.

Meanwhile Bruce quickly grabbed a sick bag and rushed straight back. He handed it to nat who used one hand to guide it to your chin and the other to rub between your shoulder blades.

At that moment Wanda rushed in as you began to throw up.

“Oh love.” She said coming to stand on your other side and joining nat in comforting you. “Get it all out sweets its ok natty and I are here lovebug.” She said rubbing you back. You coughed and threw up again before leaning back against the pillows and closing your eyes.

“Sorry.” You mumbled.

“You don’t have to apologise Y/n.” Bruce said taking the sick bag from nat and disposing of it on the other side of the room.

“Let’s get you to bed.” Wanda said and helped you up supporting your weight on one side as Nat supported your weight on the other. They helped you out of the sick bay and thanked Bruce before going to the elevator and instructing Friday to go to your shared floor.

Bruce had ordered no teleporting or shifting until you're better. at some point you must have fell asleep in the lift as you registered Nat’s strong arms hoist you into a princess hold. you snuggled your face into her neck and drifted off.

when you woke it was dark. the room was dimly lit with the blinds closed and your head was pounding your wrist was in a black wrist brace and you sniffled. letting out a harsh cough that made your head hurt more you whined softly.

At that moment Wanda emerged from the bathroom with a glass of water and some pain medicine for you. you gave her a weak smile as she came and sat next to you on the bed. silently you accepted the medicine and took it.

“How are you feeling my sweet?” Wanda asked in a hushed voice.

“Bad.” you said and coughed. Wanda frowned at the rough sounding noise that ripped through your chest. With a cool hand she laid the back of her hand on your warm forehead. She clicked her tongue and shook her head.

“Love you're a bit warm.” she said, and you simply turned away and sneezed.

“Bless you Y/n.” Wanda said. “Wait here a moment.” she went back into the bathroom returning a moment later with a thermometer.

She pressed it to your lips, and you let her slip it into your mouth. after a moment it beeped, and she frowned.

“101.3 thats a fever alright my love.” she said with a sigh. with a flick of her wrist, she summoned a cool rag and laid it over your eyes.

“This cold doesn’t seem too bad, but it looks like being wet from the rain didn’t do you and favours my love.” she said, and you hummed burying yourself into her side and falling into a light doze.

Wanda sighed and scratched you head lightly. after a bit nat came in and swapped out for Wanda. the team had gotten back while Wanda had been in with you and nat had been grilling the hydra agent.

Nat slipped into Wanda’s side of the bed, freshly showered and laid a hand against your forehead and hummed.

“shes due another dose of meds soon.” Wanda said and nat nodded before shooing her out.

Wanda sighed and trudged dejectedly to the kitchen to make dinner for the team and soup for you.

after a bit Nat was alerted by Jarvis that dinner was ready. she had given you more meds and you had gone back to sleep around a half hour ago.

Deciding to let Wanda wake you she made her way to the kitchen. after sitting down the team trickled in and Wanda came and sat beside nat. nat frowned expecting you to be with the redhead

“Where’s y/n/n wands? aren’t you going to get her? Is she not eating with us?” nat asked and Wanda shook her head.

“The pain meds have her zonked and so I’m letting her sleep. Plus, I can’t eat and feed her myself at the same time. With the … you know” Wanda pointed to her wrist and Nat nodded.

“She was sleeping when i left her.” Nat agreed.

After the team had eaten Wanda went to get you from your room and she led you into the kitchen. You sleepily rubbed your eyes and curled into her side still standing in the doorway. Wanda rubbed your back softly.

The team had left now, and it was just Nat sat at the table waiting for you. Wanda settled you into a chair next to Natasha and brought out a bowl of steaming soup.

“Wands it’s ok, you go clean up ill feed her” Nat offered, and your cheeks reddened at the idea of being spoon fed by the black widow. As much as you loved Nat and she felt like a mother slash older sister even the idea of your girlfriend having to spoon feed you was mortifying on a good day.

Wanda nodded and stood. Your cheeks darkened another shade as the assassin brought the soup up from the bowl, blowing on the spoon lightly before she brought it to your mouth.

Wanda chuckled at your embarrassment and continued to use her magic to clean the plates from the rest of the team.

You were sluggish, clearly tired as Nat fed you.

You ate slowly and stared off into space. Nat took note of your glazed eyes and flushed cheeks, the red reached all the way up your ears.

After Nat had decided you had eaten enough which was more than half the bowl, she walked it into the kitchen and handed it to Wanda before walking back to you. You were still sat at the table staring off at the same point on the wall still.

As much as she didn’t want to leave you Nat knew Wanda was needed to run some errands for Tony by the request of Fury. Nothing that counted as an offical mission but some work she needed to do at headquarters.

Before she left Wanda walked back into the kitchen where you were sat as Natasha tried to get your attention.

“Y/n? Baby, Fury needs me to go do some stuff for him at headquarters my love. Natty’s gonna stay with you for a bit while I’m out my sweet.” Wanda cooed and kissed your forehead. She paused feeling the heat coming from you.

“You might wanna take her Temp Nat it might explain why she’s so distant.” Wanda said as her brow pinched in concern.

“We’ll be fine Wands.” Nat said and placed a hand on Wanda’s shoulder. Wanda nodded and began getting ready to leave.

Nat helped you up and walked you back to your room with an arm around your waist. Wanda’s room was next to yours on the left and Natasha’s was on your right.

When you walked in the door you beelined straight for the bed as exhaustion was weighing heavily on all limbs. You flopped down without an ounce of grace and Nat chuckled lightly.

“Come on Y/n/n you need to get changed first love. You have sweat through your shirt.” She said and despite her being right you whined still not fully understanding what was going on through the haze of a fever addled mind.

Nat frowned walking over and pressing her hand to your forehead.

“Dammit Wanda’s right your warmer than you were earlier.” She said more to herself than anyone else.

She walked to the bathroom grabbing a thermometer and a fever patch from the first aid kit under the sink before she returned and grabbed some clothes for you. She knew she would need to help you change after all you were not able to fend for yourself currently. Nat sat down by your legs and tapped your thigh.

“Lift your hips for me sweetie.” She said and you did, unbothered and eyes drifting shut as she slipped off your PJ shorts and replaced them before getting you to lift your arms for her as she changed your shirt as well.

After you were changed Nat took the thermometer and placed it between your lips and held it there with her hand. After a moment it beeped, and she removed it.

“Hmmm 102.7 That’s fever patch worthy babe.” She said and carefully took the patch from its packaging and placed it on your flushed forehead.

After she got on the bed with you and after a moment of shuffling you laid your head on her shoulder. Nat chuckled softly. She put on a movie without really paying any attention. Knowing you would be asleep soon she shifted you, so your head rested in her lap, and you fell asleep as she played with your hair. Making small braids everywhere she could reach. The feeling was enough to relax your tired body as you edged into sleep.

You had been sleeping for the better part of an hour, still in Nat’s lap she had found a better movie to watch while she braided and rebraided your hair over and over again.

She was now absentmindedly slipping on another hairband as she finished the plait when she noticed your face was all screwed up like you were in pain. Then you started to kick a bit and flinch in your sleep muttering soft but urgent words Nat couldn’t make out. She had seen enough nightmares from Yelena and the team to know what was going on and it was most likely the fault of Your fever.

She gently rubbed her hand up and down your arm to wake you gently. After minute you shot upright almost colliding heads with Nat who had been hovering over where you still laid in her lap.

At the last minute she dodged and watched your eyes hastily scanning the room. They were still glassy and held an edge of confusion. The fever patch had fallen off as you slept and was sat on the sheets nearby. Nat helped you steady your breathing and because you were tired and confused your emotions were overwhelming as you began to cry.

“I want Wanda.” You sobbed as she pulled you into her chest. Your head was tucked under her chin as she ran her hands up and down your back.

You still felt too warm, and she gently laid her hand on your forehead. When she had managed to calm you down, she helped you take some more medicine before laying you against her chest. You curled up with your hands fisting in her shirt as your breathing evened out again, falling asleep listening to the rhythmic beating of her heart.

Nat looked down at your sleeping form as your grip relaxed on her shirt as you slept. She carefully checked your temperature with her hand and hummed as it seemed to be going down. As she reached for the remote to resume her show Nat felt her phone vibrate beside her. Before the ringtone began and woke you up she quickly answered.

“Hello?” She asked.

“Hi Nat, I just wanted to check on Y/n/n. How is she doing?” Wanda’s voice asked. Nat sighed.

“She’s ok. I think her fevers going down. It was at almost 102 and she’s had a nightmare just before. I just got her back to sleep actually. She was asking for you. I think she’s exhausted and overwhelmed, she’s definitely confused because of the fever.” Nat explained and ran a hand through her own hair.

“I’ll try and get home as soon as i can. Thank you for looking after her Nat it means a lot and we both really appreciate it.” Wanda said.

“Anytime I love the two of your gremlins more than you realise.” Nat said and began rubbing your back again. Wanda laughed.

“Ok Nat we love you too. I have to get back to fury before he notices I’m not working. I’ll be home soon … hopefully.” Wanda said and they said goodbye before ending the call.

About two hours after her call with Nat, Wanda walked into the bedroom to see you and Nat curled around each other fast asleep in her arms.

Quietly she walked over to you and stroked the hair from your eyes, frowning at the wetness of your skin against her hand. Luckily you weren’t warm anymore, so it was most likely sweat from the fever breaking while you slept.

Carefully she roused you from your sleep accidentally waking Natasha in the process as she has always slept lightly for as long as Wanda could remember. As you blearily opened your eyes, they lacked the look of fevered confusion that he been present in hours prior. Wanda internally celebrated the small win.

“Y/n you need to get up sweetheart. You need a shower my love.” Wanda said helping you into a sitting position, in your sleepy state you missed the wet patch of sweat against Natasha’s shirt from where you had been sleeping pressed into her side. She seemed unbothered however, and slipped out of the room as Wanda helped you to the bathroom.

She sat you down on the covered toilet seat as you were still sick and exhausted. Helping you slip out of your clothes she soon shed her own and helped you into the shower where you lent against her heavily.

Wanda gently washed your skin clean of the sweat, using her scented soaps. The steam cleared some of the congestion and as Wanda helped you out and wrapped you in a towel, she began to apply lotion to your arms, legs, torso and face. You hummed, enjoying the skin to skin contact as much as humanly possible.

After a minute you were dressed again as she helped you back to the bed. Nat is sat on the bed; she had replaced the sheets and changed her clothes. Her shower had taken much less time than yours as she could do it unassisted.

Nat opened her arms to you, and you curled into her side as Wanda pressed up against your back to block you into their arms. Nat put on a movie she had been waiting for Wanda to watch knowing the young witch would enjoy it tremendously.

You were asleep in an instant and your softly breathing was warm against Nat’s neck where you face was buried in her shoulder. Wanda’s arms were wrapped around your midsection and Nat’s arm was around your shoulder.

While you were sick tony was getting heat from the team as to why you were the target of a HYDRA attack on the tower. They had been alerted to the break in by Friday when they returned, and Tony had been giving them nothing as they watched the footage from the security feed in the briefing room.

You were sleeping as Natasha and Wanda had slipped downstairs for the meeting while you did knowing you may need someone to defend you. She had told Friday to keep a close eye on you. Walking in the team sat around the table in the meeting room and waited for answers.

Tony knew he had to explain why hydra broke in and tried to get you, he hadn’t been entirely honest with the team, and he knew they needed answers and fury had told him it was time to tell the team.

He had more than enough reasons to so he would just have to rip off the bandaid. You had given him explicit permission to tell them if something like this happened. You knew it would be easier for you if tony told them instead of yourself which is why he hadn’t waited for you to be able to attend.

He begun to explain not missing the way Nat’s eyes gauged everyone reactions and took mental note of it all.

Eventually the meeting descended into arguing as most did.

“Shes a criminal and we thought she was dead” Steve said getting mad.

“So did hydra that was kinda the point Steve.” Tony huffed rolling his eyes and sipping his coffee.

“How do we know shes safe to be around now?” He argued.

“She wasn’t in control. And i know her i can vouch for her. Shes good now. And maybe if your head wasn’t so far up your ass you would see you did the same thing for Bucky.”

“Don’t bring him into this. That was different.” He shoved a finger into Tony’s chest.

“Yeah cap? How?” Tony shot back. “How was it different captain asshole?”

Just before tony could get his suit and Steve could throw a punch Natasha pushed them apart.

“Alright. Enough.” She yelled “theres enough testosterone flying around in here that my voice could drop if i breath too deep.” She said and bruce grumbled something about medical inaccuracies before retreating under Nat’s harsh gaze.

“Yes y/n worked for hydra.” Tony glared at her.

“But not because she wants to, she was forced. And whether you like it or not Steve shes similar to Bucky. Sure, they used different tech to brain wash her so it's not exactly the same. She remembers all of it which is a curse she has to live with for the rest of her life. She doesn’t need you adding to that Steve. Now shes an excellent fighter and she is an amazing avenger so both of you get your heads out of your asses and see that she needs a family to support her not a bunch of testosterone addled kids fighting over the last cookie man up and get over it.” Nat said.

“Geez nat you might have to take over the pre mission prep lectures from now on your giving Steve a run for his money.” Tony grinned and Nat glared before storming back to your room. Bruce was there having slipped out of the meeting once the arguing started. He was checking your vitals when she arrived. A nervous habit of his.

“How is she?”

“Shes fine her fevers broken which is good. Other than that, i tried to wake her for meds for her cold but she won't respond. Im worried about what Tony said about her powers coming back. I did a scan to see the proper cause of her fever earlier and its odd because there doesn’t seem to be one.”

“She was out in the rain that day and Wanda thinks it's just a cold. Maybe she’s just tired.” Nat said looked slightly worried. You were still sleeping, and it had been almost three hours now. You should be awake soon.

“I still don’t know why shes not awake yet. Something may be wrong.” Bruce said running a hand through his hair and looking stressed. He hated not have answers almost as much as Natasha did.

“Alright thats enough speculation there big guy.” Tony said walking in and nat glared at him.

“I thought i told you to cool off stark.”

“First off my niece.” He said pointing at the bed. “And second i do what i want around here.” Nat grumbled but let him stay.

“I think it's time i told you how little miss bear here got her powers. The first time they came they did the same thing, knocked her out for about a week while her body sorted itself out. Im assuming it's doing it again to get the rest back”.

“The rest?” Nat asked confused.

“Yes. She can do more than just teleport and shape-shift and i assume this”he gestured to the bed. “Happened when those came back as well.”

“What do you mean came back?” Bruce asked brow furrowed.

“Hydra suppressed them so she could only use them on their command, but the drugs seem to be working its way out of her system i don’t know why now after all this time but i assume it's because her body has finally relaxed enough after processing the trauma enough. Her system is finally rebooting fixing itself. Thats why i wanted her back here. Aside from her uses to the avengers she needs someone to keep an eye on her.”

“And you let her go out into the field.”

“She said it hadn’t happened in month we both thought the other powers wouldn’t come back, ok?” Tony said sounding slightly stressed.

“Ok it's alright tony thank you for telling us now i can look after her better.”

Bruce said placing a hand on Tony’s slouched shoulders.

“I need a coffee. Nat alert me if theres any change.” He said walking out.

“I would love a coffee thanks for the offer tony.” Nat called after him sarcastically. Bruce laughed and disappeared to the kitchen returning a moment later with a coffee for nat.

“Made a pot earlier.” Bruce said handing it to her.

“You're a lifesaver banner.” Nat said kissing his cheek and making him blush. He scurried back into his labs office stuttering something about rerunning the tests now he knew what to look for. Nat took a large sip of her coffee and sighed at the warm feeling.

“Im here y/n/n. Wanda and i are here and we won't let anyone hurt you. Now get better for me soon so i can kick your ass in training. I wanna know what cool powers you wake up with this time.” She grinned squeezing you hand. Wanda entered and sat on the other side of the bed. Brushing the hair from your closed eyes.

“She looks so cute when she sleeps.” Wanda said and Nat hummed in agreement. Somewhere in your unconscious state you felt safe. Something you hadn’t felt since hydra, your heart thawed slightly at the feeling.

Bucky had finally convinced Steve to give you a chance and the news had finally seemed to settle on the team.

Over the next few days, you were in and out of sleep completely drained an exhausted. After around three days you were awake again and fully ok. No new powers had shown up yet and you felt no different.

Sometimes it was simply a fluke. Your body may have been just reacting to the illness and stress.

You stuck to Wanda and Nat’s side. Clint was still waiting for his new hearing aids, so you had many talks with him in ASL while new ones were being made. They had to be waterproof for missions and taped into coms, so they were specially made.

Together the four of you brushed up on sign language and nat had begun to teach peter who struggled at first with the more complex signs before nat corrected him.

He was getting much better now and much to Clint’s amusement Steve seemed to get annoyed he couldn’t join in. Muttering about secret languages. He was simply annoyed at anything that kept him in the dark. The same way he didn’t like when you and nat spoke in Russian or when you and Wanda spoke in sokovian. You had picked up a few languages in hydra. Your commands were always in Russian and sometimes sokovian so it made sense.

Pepper had taught you French as a child and you also knew German and ASL. You were easily bilingual but not many people knew.

You had taken to calling Nat mama spider as a tease since she mothered both you and peter almost always. She always muttered something in Russian about cute tragic orphans that always made you grin.

Tony and Bruce had been in the lab together for what felt like days due to the blissful peace of no bickering or science jabber.

Of course, now there was a hit out on you and your life was at risk tony had made sure there was never a moment you were alone. If your escort, usually Wanda or nat needed a break they were to pass you off to another member of the team and under no circumstances were you to be left alone. It's not that you couldn’t look after yourself but more the team was afraid to lose you. You had grown on them all.

Clint loved the way you had brought more ASL into daily life and even taught some more people at the compound. It meant Clint didn’t feel so alone and didn’t need to wear the hearing aids he hates so much all the time.

Steve was nice and kind of like a big brother.

Bucky was the same. The goofy older brother who ruffles your hair and brings you snacks. He sat with you after nightmares, one of the few that understood. You didn’t talk just simply listened to the silence and his presence was all you needed.

Wanda, your amazing girlfriend was perfect in every way.

Nat your pseudo mother was awesome.

Thor was like a confused cousin who basically came ate all your food and then left again.

Bruce was shy but kind to you and happy to get into the details of your nonverabalism and talk about science with you.

Tony was still the ever-annoying uncle you had grown to love and hate at the same time.

Peter became what you assume a little brother would be like if you had one. Minus the fighting.

And Sam was alway just around being Sam which means he was being annoying as always.

You woke each night with nightmares after it seemed your weird sleep had brought back some unwanted memories so you had taken to spending some nights in your own room away from Wanda so she could get some real sleep and not worry about you. You always found some excuse.

You liked your late-night sessions with Bucky just sitting on the roof looking at the stars. After you both woke from nightmares. You loved the way Steve would pick you up and run away when you both stole Bucky arm. Or the way Bruce always left little notes with science doodles on them around the compound for you. The way peter invited you to help him build lego. The way Thor once let you eat his pop tarts with him. The way Sam and you pranked Steve. The way Clint was happy to show you how to do new archery trick shots after finding out it was a hobby of yours. The way Nat admired your ability to throw knives and the way Wanda always seemed to know what you needed.

You had bonded with them all after a matter of weeks.

Thought back to the first time you and Bucky sat together. You had been tossing in bed before deciding to get up after a horrible nightmare. You walked into the hall freezing as you saw Bucky leaving his own room down the hall.

He saw your distress that almost matched his own and motioned for you to follow him. Silently the two of you walked up to roof and sat down together under the stars. Bucky pulled you into his side, his long hair brushing the top of your head as your ear was pressed to his chest. His arms were around your shoulders.

Silently he held you as you sobbed. Unbothered by the tears that were staining his sleep shirt. He simply held you under the stars, the cool night air grounding as he rubbed his metal hand up and down your back. The cool groves of the metal gave you something to focus on enjoying the texture against your covered skin. You had always loved Bucky arm. The metal was soothing and cold. The groves you would trace absentmindedly in meetings when he sat next to you. Your fingers sometimes tracing the red star on his steel bicep.

After a few minutes your sobs die down and you grew slightly embarrassed. You began to pull away, but his arms tightened around you.

“Don’t go.” He said softly as you realised you were grounding him as much as he was doing the same for you.

“Ok.” You mumbled and buried your face in his chest again soon you feel asleep in his arms listening to his heartbeat.

The next morning when you woke, he was gone but the softness you felt was the pillow and blanket he had used to tuck you in still on the roof in the shaded morning sun.

You stood stretching and tucking the blanket and pillow into a nearby vent on the roof, you felt this was not a onetime occurrence and you were correct.

You made your way to the kitchen feeling more rested than you should. In kitchen Bucky sat nursing a coffee. He sent you a small smile and a slight nod of his head but doesn’t say anything. The smile is genuine.

Over the next few nights, it became routine. Sometimes he puts you back in your bed, sometimes you rejoin Wanda or nat in their rooms after a bit or just sleep with him on the roof. He’s very comfortable it must be all the super soldier muscles.

Life in the compound was comfortable and you began to form a routine. You were sat now in the gym after finishing sparring with nat. You were both hot and sweaty and guzzling water. Nat swiped a hand over her brow and smiled at you flicking off the sweat.

“Your pretty good out there L/n” you said, and you nodded at the compliment.

“Not too bad yourself Romanoff.” You grinned and she shoved your lightly on the shoulder.

“Come on. Tony said he had a surprise for you. But shower first. You need to buy new deodorant because it's not working.” She joked and you lightly slapped her before heading for the showers.

MASTERLIST

[gunsandspaceships]

Proof that Tony Stark is not an alcoholic in the MCU. Part 1

So, once we determined that MCU Tony is not 616 Tony, and is not obliged to bear his features (see my “About Different Universes” post), let’s determine if MCU Tony has a drinking problem.

Let’s start by listing the levels of alcohol consumption:

Drinking in Moderation (“normal drinker”): 2 or less drinks in a day for men;

Binge Drinking: consuming 5 or more drinks (male) in about 2 hours on at least 1 day in the past month;

Heavy Alcohol Use: consuming five or more drinks on any day or 15 or more per week/binge drinking on 5 or more days in the past month.

Source: https://www.niaaa.nih.gov/alcohol-health/overview-alcohol-consumption/moderate-binge-drinking

Now, let’s see if we can find any indication of heavy or binge drinking in the primary sources (movies).

Iron Man (2008):

0:01:20 – we are starting the MCU with a glass of scotch (I guess?). Straight away. Mostly ice though.

0:09:10 – Tony and Christine have a bucket with a bottle of champagne in the bedroom. Can’t say for sure whether it was opened or not.

0:13:30 – Tony drinks sake with Rhodey on the Jet on the way to Afghanistan (1). Then we see him with a glass of champagne (2) – 0:13:50. Tony doesn’t seem as drunk as Rhodey, and Rhodey is still drinking his sake. Tony was taken to his bedroom after that (deleted scene, next paragraph).

In the deleted scene “Tony and Rhodey on Stark Jet” 2:10 we can see Tony is perfectly fine after the “night”. He’s having breakfast, drinking coffee and juice, while Rhodes has a hangover.

0:15:50 – that’s when Tony gets his scotch from 0:01:20. He’s celebrating the successful presentation of Jericho, and there’s one prepared glass of scotch with ice waiting for him in the fridge, among other drinks for the military personal. Also it’s less than half full.

1:08:35 – Tony arrived at the Charity Ball and ordering scotch. After two sips he is joining Pepper and the glass is gone.

1:11:40 – Pepper asks for vodka martini with olives, and Tony orders 2. He didn’t have a chance to drink it though, because Christine arrived.

Aaand, that’s it. No more drinks during the rest of the movie.

What can we infer from this data? During the last 2 days before the meeting with 10 Rings he had (maybe) 2 glasses of champagne, a bowl of sake and few sips of scotch. Let’s say total 4 drinks. Not enough for Binge Drinking or Heavy Drinking level. Next time he drank alcohol was the Charity Ball, and he took 2 sips of scotch, that’s it.

Conclusion: he definitely wasn’t an alcoholic in Iron Man (2008). We see the “normal drinker” level in this movie and no signs of addiction. We can even say that Rhodey drinks more than Tony (Binge Drinking).

[coffeecat1983]

Cult of the Mario Bros: pt 1

(note this story contains blood, death, mention of self harm, and spoilers for the game Cult of the Lamb. It will be done in episodic form.) Story begins beneath the cut:

Two vessels, born in shadow

Both heads, fit to bear a crown

Ones once cleansed from the land

Who will step forth and offer their soul to eternity?

"Alright, on your feet!"

The chill of the blade against his cheek brought the lamb to his feet. Beside him, his twin struggled to stand. "I said on your feet!" The robed figure grabbed the other by the neck and yanked, pulling him harshly and drawing a pained bleat from his throat. The other gasped softly, jerking against his restraints as he longed to comfort his brother. "Get moving." came the gruff voice. Heads bowed, the twin lambs walked side by side, their hooves clicking on the old stone path. The older one spotted bones scattered around the ground and he was sickened to realize some had hooves, and skulls had the same small horns he had. Glancing beside him, he was thankful to see his brother was keeping his head down, eyes closed. The path opened to a clearing in the woods. A bloodstained altar was before them, with robed followers of the Old Faith gathered round. Resigned to their fate, the older lamb kneeled, head bowed. "Don't be a-afraid, lil bro." he could barely form the words as he heard his twin kneel beside him. "I love you." "I-I lo-love you, too." the reply made his heart ache. A shuddering sigh as his own tears began again. Images, memories of his life flashed in his mind. Learning to farm with his Uncle Arthur. The smell of freshly carved wood and sawdust in his Uncle Tony's workshop. Waking each morning to his mother singing as she made their breakfast. The warmth and safety of his father's strong arms. His thoughts were broken by a quiet whimper. "Will w-we see them again?" A twisting pain seized his chest as he realized his twin had been sharing his memories. "Y-Yeah, we'll see them again. It'll be okay." he promised, fighting to keep his voice steady. Metal clinked and he looked up, his blood freezing in his veins. A giant wolf loomed nearby, axe in hand and executioner's mask over his face. Shadows fell over the altar as four forms rose from the ground.

The gods of old now stood before the two lambs. "The last of the cursed ones, it is time to spill this foul blood." Heket, with her throat slashed neat hissed out. "The prophecy shall no longer come to pass." Kallamar, ears torn from his head, burbled. "No longer will the heretic below pose a threat." Leshy, his eyes torn from the flesh said. "Old faith will live, the land always ours." Shamura, they of mind taken away, managed. "Enough!" Leshy let out a howl. "Let us be done with this blasphemy!" The two little lambs kept their heads bowed as the ground shook from the executioner's footsteps. Ma, Dad, please be there. I miss you so much. The older lamb silently prayed.

A breeze, and all was silent.

To be continued.....

[elisaphoenix13]

Always Something New

Thomas startles awake with a yelp when he rolls out of bed and lands on the floor with a thump. It wasn't the first time and it likely wouldn't be the last. He had a tendency to try and run in his sleep and wiggled himself out of bed, at least according to his brothers. Even Tony had caught him doing it and laughed all the way back down to the kitchen to tell…someone. Thomas was too embarrassed to find out.

He wiggles out of the half of his comforter that fell off his bed with him and shuffles into his bathroom to make an attempt at taming his hair. It never really worked but he always made it look a little less like he rolled out of bed.

When his bathroom door slams open, the teen startles and he looks at Stephen with wide eyes. The man looked extremely angry, but this was completely out of character for the man. The sorcerer would always calmly discuss any issue he had with him and they would work it out, but this…

“What are you doing in here?! I was in the middle of meditating until the noises you were making interrupted me! We put a roof over your head and clothes on your back and this is the thanks we get?! Inconsiderate!” Stephen yells and Thomas gulps.

“S-Sorry. It was an accident. I just fell out of bed–” Thomas starts and the man clicks his tongue in annoyance.

“I don't care about your excuses. Keep it down!”

Then Stephen left as quickly as he arrived, leaving Thomas to blink at the spot the sorcerer vacated. He could only assume that Stephen was in a foul mood from too much stress or maybe even some weird spell that backfired, but even so, it shook the teen. This was what he and William were expecting since day one. For Tony and Stephen to get sick of them or to treat them like every other family did.

Hopefully apologizing later would help.

For now, Thomas would finish quietly getting ready and head down for breakfast before he went to school with his brother and Cassie. When he got to his door to open it though, he heard a yelp and then a crash, and he was throwing his door open in time to look down to the living room and find his twin getting up from the side table that he had…fallen against? But Tony was just a few feet away yelling at him, and William was holding his face as if…

William dropped his hand and even from Thomas's distance, he could see a nasty bruise forming. Had Tony hit him? What was going on? Thomas felt like his world was completely turned upside down and all he could do was panic. He and William weren't safe anymore. They should have known living in the tower with the Avengers was too good to be true. But why did they have to tell and hit them? Why couldn't they just tell them to get out? Maybe if Thomas ran, he could grab his brother and go. Anywhere. Somewhere they would–

“Tommy.”

Thomas gasps, the small voice interrupting the panic attack he wasn't even aware he was having, and he looks down to find his baby sister. Lucy. She was tugging insistently on his pants and looking up at him worriedly.

“Bad dweam, Tommy.” She says.

“Wh-what?” 

“Wake up!” She demands.

Thomas gasps and finds himself back in his room, sitting up in his bed and covered in sweat. He looks around as he gathers his bearings, and when he finally calms down enough, he gets out of bed and gingerly walks over to his bedroom door and opens it. Instead of finding Tony yelling at William, he found Stephen reading on the couch and Diana wrestling with Harley. When he finally went downstairs to investigate some more, he actually found Tony and William cooking together. His twin was smiling. There were no bruises. There wasn't a scratch on him.

“Thomas? Are you alright?” Stephen asks and the teen spins around in anewed panic to look at him.

“I…yeah…just had a bad dream.” He mumbles.

“Tommy better?” Lucy sits up from her spot napping on one of the couches and Thomas gapes at her.

Was she actually in his dream? It couldn't be. That was impossible…right? Maybe not. He lives in a tower full of people with different powers, and even Diana was born with magic because she was born from it. Why not Lucy? Even if Valerie was normal, it didn't mean Lucy was too.

“Mom? Is…does Lucy…is it possible for her to have powers?” Thomas stammers out, garnering the sorcerer’s full attention.

“I suppose it is but she hasn't shown any signs. I assumed she was normal like Valerie.” Stephen says slowly after some thought. “Why do you ask?”

“Because the Lucy in my dream helped me wake up. She told me it was a bad dream.” Thomas explains.

“Bad dweam,” Lucy points at him and nods. 

Stephen closes his book and gets up to walk over to Lucy and sit on the couch next to her. “Did you visit Thomas in his dreams?”

“Uh-huh. He scawed.” Lucy answers.

“I wonder…” The sorcerer mumbles to himself. “Lucy, I want you to sit very still. Do you understand?”

When the toddler nods, Stephen starts to cast an intricate spell. Thomas watches curiously as the man continues to draw and summon more runes and circles that made no sense to him, and then they eventually glowed. He watched as Stephen looked at them with raised brows and then the spell dissipated shortly after Tony entered with William.

“We came in here to tell you lunch was ready but now I want to know what you were casting a spell for,” Tony says. 

Stephen looks over at him and laughs. “I can't believe I didn't think to try it before. But when Thomas asked if Lucy could have powers…”

“Honey, I came in at the end of it so I have no idea what you're talking about,” Tony reminds him.

“Thomas. He had a bad dream and said the Lucy in his dream told him it was a nightmare and helped him wake up. Our Lucy said she did it.” Stephen starts and waves toward the little girl. “So I wondered if I could discover any powers she might have with a spell.”

William straightens, intrigue clear on his face. “Does she?”

“She can dream walk,” Stephen confirms.

“That explains a lot,” Harley says after stopping his wrestling match with Diana when they heard the subject. “I've seen her in my dreams like that a couple times before.”

“I have too,” Tony winces. “They're not dreams I would like her to see but I guess it's not up to me.”

“What about Valerie?” Diana wonders. “Does she have powers?”

Stephen tilts his head in thought. “That's a good question. I could use the same spell on her to find out.”

“Topolina!” Tony looks up at the second floor and smiles when Valerie comes out of her room to look down at them.

“Si, Papà?”

“Come down please. Mommy wants to check you for something.”

“Nothing bad, I promise.” Stephen reassures her when worry crosses her features. When she carefully descends the stairs and joins them, Stephen smiles. “Stay very still please.”

“Okay.”

And once again, Stephen was casting his spell, and again it glowed. When it dissipated, the sorcerer sat staring at Valerie for a good long while. 

“Mom?” Thomas says carefully, breaking whatever trance Stephen was in.

“She…does.” He says. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Tony asks.

“It's more passive.” Stephen says softly. “She has the power of longevity.”

Everyone stares at Valerie in shock and the little girl looks at her mother curiously. “What's that?”

“It means that unless you get very hurt, you will be around for a very long time.” Stephen tells her.

“Like you and Scott?” Peter asks from his hammock in the corner of the room. Thomas had no idea how long he had been there, but he admittedly wasn't paying attention. Peter had probably been there the entire time and listening intently like the rest of them.

“Yes, exactly.”

“Ughhhh…so much for having normal siblings!” Harley groans dramatically. “You think I'll get my own powers if I swim in some toxic waste or something?” When Stephen gives him the stink eye, he sighs loudly. “I'm only kidding! Sheesh!”

“You've at least got a normal dad,” Tony points out.

“I guess.” 

“Besides, who knows what kind of effect Will has on you,” Thomas says and Tony grimaces.

“Not a thought or image I need, thank you. Now let's go eat lunch.” He says and wraps an arm around William to lead him back into the kitchen. Harley and Diana get up to follow while Peter rolls out of his hammock and fwumps on the floor before practically skipping to the kitchen.

“What was the dream about, Thomas?” Stephen asks and the teen sighs.

“It's…I don't want to think about it. I know it wasn't real now and that's all that matters.” When Stephen gives him a skeptical look, Thomas sighs. “If I keep having the dream, I'll talk about it. But what you would tell me is something we already know.”

“And what would that be?”

“You're in it for the long haul.”

Understanding dawns on Stephen and he nods. “As long as you know.” He gently pats Valerie toward the kitchen and helps Lucy down from the couch. “Let's go eat before Peter eats everything.”

“And me!” Thomas grins and rubs to the table, sitting in his chair in less than a second.

“I thought I told you no running inside!” Stephen calls from the living room.

"Sorry, Mom!"

[ash-whimsicalfanfic]

Serendipity (CH 8)

Leroy Jethro Gibbs X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 1198

Warning: Mild language, fluff, smut, angst, graphic scenes, death, murder, gore, violence, mature material…

Prompt: You have a major crush on Gibbs, however you choose to push it away as you fear he doesn’t feel the same way. Suddenly there is a bunch of chances that lead to a happy ending…

I had went out and gotten everyone breakfast and drinks. I got all my paperwork caught up and even caught up everyone else's with my all-nighter.

However, I was on a coffee high now and was organizing all my stuff in my area. I hum as I tidy up when I hear the elevator doors open.

"Y/N? Your here early." Tony notes.

I look up to see that they all must've gotten off the elevator. I smile brightly at them.

"Good morning!" I exclaim.

"You seem to be in a good mood." Tim notes with a smile as Gibbs and Ziva study me.

"Thanks Tim." I say.

"And you got me breakfast? Thank you...I owe you." Tony says and I wink at him before turning back to where I was organizing behind my desk.

"Agent Y/L/N!" Director Shepard says.

I look up to see her standing at the railing. She motions me to follow her and I look at me desk. Am I losing my job? Oh god...

"Hey, I'm sure it's nothing." Tim says.

"Your going to jinx me and I'm going to lose my job. Thanks Tim." I mumble, beginning my way to her office.

I sit and she looks at my expectantly. I bounce my knee nervously and she sighs.

"The BAU is asking for you back." She says.

"No. I don't want to go back. I'm happy here. I really am. I know that there's been a lot going on since my accident and I swear things won't be so hectic and I promise I'll be a better agent. Please tell me I'm not losing my job." I ramble.

"Calm down, Special Agent Y/L/N. I was simply telling you. I was going to let you make the choice. You have a spot here. A team...a family and I'm more than happy to go tell the BAU that you aren't going anyway and that your sticking with us at NCIS." She says.

"Oh thank god." I breathe.

"How are you doing?" She asks.

"I'm doing a lot better." I say.

"Good. If you every need anything, you know where I am. Now go on." She says.

I happily hurry out of her office and get to my desk, drinking the rest of the coffee before tossing it in my can. I look up when Gibbs clears his throat.

"Janitor clears our cans every night. I noticed you have five coffee cups in yours. I thought I told you to go home." He snaps.

"Well I was, but there was no way I was going to get sleep. My mind has been super occupied and sketching hasn't helped. I knew I had a lot to get done, so rather than going home to have a restless night, I decided to work here. Which worked out in my favor. And you shouldn't complain. Now we are caught up." I say.

"No more coffee today. You ramble when your on a caffeine rush. Your hands are literally shaking from your caffeine intake. And your going home tonight. And what did the Director want?" He asks.

"I was really nervous I was going to lose my job. And I really thought I was because she said the BAU wanted me back and I kind of freaked out and went into this whole thing that I didn't want to go back and I promised to be a better agent because I know I haven't been at my top performance since my accident and even a little before. Actually, a while before. I should go tell her that. I don't know. I've been in a weird kind of funk—." I ramble before he covers my mouth.

"Tell me she isn't sending you back." He says, before uncovering my mouth.

"She isn't sending me back. I swear. She said she's happy to have me here. Oh my goodness! Abby! Good morning!" I exclaim, hugging her.

"Y/N..." Abby mumbles and I step back confused.

"What? Did I do something?" I ask.

"Have you seen your car this morning?" She asks.

"Ugh...no. Should I? Actually don't answer that. I'll choose to ignore the problem at hand. I'm in a good mood and I can tell by your face you don't come bearing good news. I can't bear bad news today. I might have a breakdown." I ramble and she looks at Gibbs concerned.

"She's drank five cups of coffee. What's up Abs?" He asks.

"Her window was broken. I got pictures and started to study the car and found a note. A note from the man who attempted to kill her. How long has he been threatening you?" She asks, holding up the letter in the evidence bag.

"I-I was handling it. I swear. I started to stay here when I felt like my safety was compromised. However, when I stopped getting the silent calls and letters, I assumed he stopped so I let it go. It's fine. I'm sure it's nothing." I ramble, although that definitely put a damper in my mood.

"Your telling me this has been going on and you never once mentioned it?" Gibbs asks, stepping closer.

"Your a profiler. I'm sure you can tell what this means." Abby says.

"Come on Y/N/N...you should have came to us." Ziva says softly.

I close my eyes, clenching my jaw as I take a deep breath. Deep breaths. Deep breaths...I tried to ignore Gibbs who was now lecturing me, getting closer to yelling. I step away, reaching a shaky hand out to my chair and pushing it out of the way before I sit on the ground, scooting under my desk.

My eyes were stinging and I let a shaky breath out. Not now...I can't cry now. Another shaky breath leaves me, my chest beginning to move faster. Gibbs was soon in front of me, kneeling in front of my desk.

"Y/N...Y/N/N, breathe. Breathe..." He murmurs, moving under the desk and pulling me into his side.

My shaky hands grasp his shirt, trying to take deep breaths but I can't stop thinking about everything going on. He moves my head and I soon could only hear his heart beat. He stroked my hair, gently rubbing my back.

"That's it. Breathe." He murmurs as my breathing slows.

I didn't want to move once I calmed down. I just held onto him, staring blankly ahead as I tried not to think about it. Everytime I would, my eyes would start to tear up and I'd take in a big shaky breath.

He held me, not saying anything. He just comforted me. We slowly scoot out overtime until we were out from under my desk. He waited patiently for me to be ready to come out completely from under my desk to standing. It took me a few minutes to want to stand, but when I nodded, he stood up to help me up.

His hand rests on my lower back as he guided me to the elevator in silence. I ignored my team giving my concerned looks even when they tried to look busy.

[unlady-like-12-25-36]

Happy Bunny Fest? || Natasha Romanoff x f!Reader

A/n: Happy bday to our loving Tasha bear, who’s also my wife. And if it appears that I've taken down this post before, you're not seeing things, I did because tumblr hates me now 😒 so I reposted it

A/sn: This is written with Fem!reader. If that isn’t what you like do not read. And Plz be aware that it contains smutty content, but overall it's very fluffy. Read at your own risk

Contains: mild cursing, mommy kink, spit kink, a hint of exhibitionism and pet play if you squint. If there’s more, lmk

Translations:

котенок = kitten

Corazon = my heart

-------------- >

It was a bright yet freezing early morning where everything was covered in about 5 inches of snow this year, leaving all the animals asleep for the winter. At the same time, some had already shed their spring coat and grown in their winter fur. Or if it were deer, elk even moose, they would have shed off their antlers. However, for the Avengers, it was an ordinary day at the compound; for once, everyone had a day off, which meant they had the freedom to sleep in. However, with it being Natasha's birthday, Tony had other ideas that led to a lot of grumbling for not letting the rest of the team sleep in for once, except for you and Natasha. And well, someone's got to keep the assassin at bay before Nat's party. I'm sorry. Let me rephrase that, Nat's birthday bash, that Natasha nearly threatened him for weeks to call it off just for making her birthday a big deal.

For those who don't know her well, You'd say she's pretty intimidating, no matter how much you want to deny how gorgeous she is. In reality, she's just someone who's never been shown kindness, love or even just taken a chance on her that's looking past her prickly exterior. And quite frankly, once you have, you'll be able to see that loving, soft yet protective person that she is. Or what you love to call her a bear, your Tasha bear. Well, that's only if you exclude the amount of sass she expresses daily. Fortunately for you, despite the irritability you've encountered when you first met, her life has changed for three and a half years since the day she was brought into Shield., especially during the fall of Shield. And yet, two years ago to today, both of you had officially become an item that led the whole team to let out their reliefs of not having to watch the both of you constantly pinning over each other. Yup, that’s right. You not only met her literally on the day of her birthday but Nat herself scored one with you three and a half years later on her birthday again since that day.

You were trying to soak up as much sleep as possible before Liho came in. Even then, it was short-lived as you started to hear her meowing at you and going as far as lighting tapping her paws on your arm and shoulders at how urgent it was for the sweet black cat to have her breakfast at her designated time. However, with it being your girlfriend's birthday, you didn't want to get up and miss the opportunity to admire her and snuggle her until she woke up. Fortunately, thanks to Tony, he's created a voice-activated feeding machine that produces food for Liho at times like this. But unlike any other cat feeding machines, this can make fresh wet cat food that Liho needs, especially at this time of the year when she's more prone to be dehydrated than usual.

When he made that cat-feeding machine, it surprised everyone since he had expressed his distaste for cats. Little did anyone know, just like Nat, Liho could sneak her way into everyone's hearts even if all it took were her adorable green beady eyes and a soft mew. However, Stark swayed when he was in his lab building one of his inventions just like any other day when he had asked his assistant robot to hand him one of his tools on the ground that was too far for him to leave his invention unattended. Yet, at that moment, as he had described the tool for the robot to get, Liho, who was grooming herself in her little corner of his lab, Liho had picked up the small screwdriver-like tool and brought it to him. But when the robot had not registered that Liho had done the job, it informed him that it was missing. Yet, just before he was ready to fire the robot from its job, Liho tapped her paw on his leg, leaving him pleasantly surprised that the cat did something nice for him. He was even thanking her with cat-friendly treats that he secretly kept around. That is until Natasha finally found Liho in his lab, going off on him for thinking that he was making her own cat turn into one of his robots. Thankfully because of Jarvis, it had shown what happened before she stormed in to get her cat. And even for an apology, he added in his generosity of creating a cat-feeding machine that made fresh wet cat food for Liho. Since then, Liho has never been healthier, no matter how much Natasha loves to deny that what Tony was feeding her wasn't real food.

Although it would be lovely to take a trip on memory lane of everything that had to do with Natasha and her constant antics when it comes to her cat, your mind is focused on all the ways to spoil her. As you had shifted over to Natasha's side to snuggle her, she had seamlessly and subconsciously turned things around with her laying on top of you with her head on your chest. This made you lightly chuckle and kiss the top of her head while running your fingers through her soft red hair. When she finally woke up, Natasha kissed where she could before lifting her head to groggily greet you with a good morning and a passionate make-out session.

"Seems like the birthday girl had a good dream last night", you say with a touch of a smirk on your face.

"I don't know who that might be, but she did say she enjoyed the well-earned rest, especially when it turns into a wet dream," she says in a way that's teasing.

"Well, whoever it might be is a lucky woman." At that moment, Natasha didn't waste any time and crashed her lips to yours while turning you fully on your back so she could straddle you, not once leaving your lips.

"Tasha, it's your day. Let me treat you."

"You're right. It is my day. So what I want is for my darling malyshka to please me. You wouldn't want to disobey me, do you?"

"N-no mommy."

"Good girl. Now be good and let mommy ride that pretty face."

As Natasha had positioned herself just above you, you were pleasantly surprised to see just how wet she was from that wet dream she had. No, she wasn't just wet. She's dripping for you, so much that it was starting to trickle down the inside of her knee. Without hesitation, you licked all that wetness off her legs and up to her core. Yet, as you licked the lips of her core, she shivered in pleasure as if she were electrocuted, only to push herself back down to your mouth. As she did, you started to tease her, licking and sucking anywhere except where she needed it the most. Nipping at the skin inside her thighs that surely leaves marks for weeks.

"Behave котенок. Don't make me upset and punish you."

"Sorry, mommy" with that, you held onto her thighs and ass and ate her out like it was your last meal. You gave her the bonus of lightly nipping at her clit, making her moan your name even louder and gripping your hair as a way to keep you close to her as possible.

"F*ck, y/n just like that!" She says as she now entirely sits on your face and tightly grips the headboard as you deliciously fuck her with your mouth.

At the same time, your room was filled with lewd noises from both of you. And even though both of you had seemingly forgotten to tell Jarvis to turn on soundproofing, none of you seemed to care if the whole team was hearing what was happening in both of your rooms. Even at that moment, just as everything for Natasha's party was set up, the whole team thought it was a good idea to roll in a small breakfast buffet for the both of you. However, not even five feet from your door, they soon realised why it was so easy to set up the party and not constantly worry when Natasha would show up in the middle of preparing like she does every year.

"Yes! Yes! Ah -God! Right there! Rught. There!" She yells, making you plunge two fingers right inside her at a brutal pace while you lick and suck her clit. Thus making her moan even louder for you.

As soon as the team heard a tiny bit of what was happening, they decided to hold off the party until what Tony called your loving sessions, a "bunny fest", was over.

Which, you had to admit, is true. Both you and Nat did have high sex drives, making Steve a lot more grumpy today than any other day because of how much both of you couldn't keep your hands to yourself. Therefore, ruining every piece of his opportunity to have a good time with the team.

Then as you roughly bit at Natasha's clit and thrust your fingers in a particular spot, you made her cum right in your mouth. It even made her squirt all over your face. Still, that didn't stop you from continuously eating her out as you helped her ride out her high. When she had her fill of you, she got off and licked all of her wetness off your face before bringing you in for a kiss with a taste of herself in your mouth. However, before she pulled back, she bit and licked at your lip, asking for entrance. When you complied, your tongue eagerly met with hers, letting her whirl her tongue in your mouth.

"Now that's a good girl." She said when she broke the kiss. She caressed it with her hand, softly holding your cheek and told you to open your mouth. As you obeyed her command, Natasha softly let some of her saliva fall from her lips and into your mouth. And because it was her birthday, she did three times before telling you to swallow. While you had swallowed her saliva, you kept your gaze on her eyes filled with lust. Yet, she dominantly gave you an expectant look.

"What do you say котенок?"

"Thank you, mommy."

"That's what I thought. Let this be your last warning, bunny. I don't like it when my pet disobeys me."

"Yes, mommy, I'm sor-" then, before you could finish your sentence, Tony begrudgingly bangs on the door

"If you're done fucking like bunnies, I suggest not starting again!" He yells through the door, making both of you laugh at how flustered the whole team must be after hearing how good you fucked Natasha.

"F*ck off, Stark! No one told you to listen!" You yelled back.

"I planned a birthday party! Not a kinky party!" With that, he walked away, hoping that was enough to convince both of you to leave the comfort of your bed, no matter how much you were caught up in Nat's lustful gaze.

And yet, much to your dismay, both of you decided that it was best to continue your sex-crazed session later. No matter how much the both of you dreaded Tony's party for Nat, that's been planned for weeks. So before the Maximoff twins get involved again, like last time, you and Natasha rushed your asses through the door.

After the party, both of you had never felt more relieved for it to be over. When both had settled in for the night, you decided now was the best time to give her your gift. When you reached under the bed in your secret compartment, you took her present out and sat next to your girlfriend.

"Happy birthday, Corazon," you say as you hand it to her.

When she ripped the wrapping paper off, it revealed a small black box. When she opened it, it contained a beautiful eccentric pendant that she hadn't seen anything like it before.(the picture of the kind of pendant i was imagining is the one above underneath nat’s suggestive eyebrow raising smirk gif)

"It's beautiful, Detka. Thank you," making her happily cry for the first time since meeting her. While you brought her into your arms and sweetly kissed her.

"This pendant I’m giving you isn't just any ordinary necklace. It's made from my home planet, Pandora, where I'm from, and it's been handed down for generations in my family. So now, wherever you're away, you have a piece of me with you."

"Detka, I- I don't know what to say. Are you sure?"

"For someone who's never been shown love or what it means to be a person and still bounce back to be the best version of yourself, I'd say you're more than worthy of being part of my family - even if they're all gone." You assured her with a loving smile, making her peck your lips once more and press her forehead with yours, enjoying the small, intimate moment among yourselves.

< --------------------

taglist: @natashasnoodle @mrscromanoff @adi06lena